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Nov 4, 2014 00:43
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996 words Prompt: Autumn Water A Perfect Day I grabbed onto Charlene and pulled her through the park, our feet crunching leaves as we got closer to the bridge. She turned to me with a grin, her blue eyes as bright as the day we first met. This was, after all, the happiest day of our lives. We would go to the restaurant we always went to. Then, we would go shopping, going into the same stores that we always do. And finally, we would end the day by going into the park, standing on the bridge where I proposed to her, and watch the fish swim below us. The same thing for the past fifteen years. The leaves had turned red and brown, and they were piled on the path to the bridge. The sun was shining although the leaves were still damp from the rain that faded an hour ago. The trees were almost all barren; a few leaves hung on to the branches, but they were going to fall soon. Time has a way of getting things to let go. When the rusted bridge got into view, Charlene ran ahead of me. The river flowed underneath the bridge, splashing up and getting the bridge wet. Charlene leaned over the railing, staring deep into the water. I just watched her. It looked as if she was in a trance, her gaze never looking away from the raging waters. The river pushed and pulled against itself, as if it was trying to change direction. I touched her and broke her from her concentration. She wrapped her arm across my hip and pulled herself in closer. Her leather jacket slipped across mine. “This is my favorite part of this day.” She said. “It’s so perfect.” I looked around the park, taking in the falling leaves and smell of rain that had just started to fade away. Every year was always the same, the sun would just start to fall beneath the horizon, and we would stand here, watching the world pass us by. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wanted something new, something exciting. Every day felt the same, but Charlene was happy. She woke up every morning with a smile on her face and joy in her voice. And for a long time, so did I. I was stuck in a loop, with every day bleeding into the next, but I was happy. I was trapped, but I was glad I was trapped with Charlene. The world was so loud. The foaming water crashing onto itself. The chirping of the birds. The faint conversation of a couple a few feet away. I couldn’t stand it anymore. “I can’t do this.” I said. “Do what?” “This.” Charlene looked around the park, “What? Come here? I thought you loved it here?” “No, not this. Us.” Charlene turned back to me, her blue eyes locked on mine. “What are you saying?” “I want to end this.” Charlene turned away from me and started to cry. I touched her shoulder. I wanted to say something, but every word I thought of felt hollow. I wanted to say I’m sorry, or it’s not her fault, or something that would’ve made her stop crying, but I was tired of lying. “Why? Why after all these years you call it quits now?” She asked. “Because I just can’t live this life anymore.” “Why? What’s wrong with it? What’s wrong with me?” “Nothing. It’s me. I just don’t feel the same anymore. I just want something new.” “What does that even me?” “I don’t know, just not this.” Charlene pushed my hand off of her and leaned over the railing. Her tears feel like leaves. I stared at the tears as they dripped into the river. She was trembling and her hands covered her face. She tried to wipe the tears off, but they kept coming. It felt awful to see her like that. It felt even more awful that I was happy something new was happening in my life. “You need to leave. I just need some time.” Charlene said, still looking at the river. “I’ll see you in the car.” I said. I walked away from Charlene. “Wait.” Charlene said. I turned around. Charlene stood there, her hair golden in the sunlight, the grey specks in her hair gone. The bags under her eyes had faded away, and her jacket was replaced by a floral dress. The trees were full of life, and the bridge’s rust disappeared. A man knelt in front of her, offering her a black box. “Charlene, I love you so much.” He lifted open the box. “I don’t ever want to lose you. Will you marry me?” “Of course!” Charlene wiped a tear from her eye. “Of course I will!” The man got up and slipped the ring onto Charlene’s finger. They kissed. I closed my eyes, hoping to stop the tears from coming any stronger. “Can you just stay with me a little bit longer?” Charlene asked. I opened my eyes, and the old Charlene stood there. She wiped the tears from her eyes, trying to make herself seem strong. I walked over to her, and she took out a handkerchief and wiped my face. “You look like a mess.” She said. “People in glass houses shouldn’t be throwing stones.” Charlene smiled. We both looked across the river, staring at the sun start to dip beneath the horizon. She set her head on my shoulder and I ran my fingers through her greying hair. “I’m sorry.” I said. She looked up at me, her blue eyes wide. “It’s ok. I understand.” As we stood on that bridge, the night came and the street lights flicked on. We just stood there, watching as the waters raged below us. We were silent, just listening to the sounds of the crickets and the rush of water. Somehow, everything felt perfect, like it was all meant to be. We left and I never came back.
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Nov 10, 2014 05:27
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sebmojo posted:Odiferous judgeburps, i will do longer crits for the first three that request them. Also, in. I'd like to take one http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?story=2749&title=A+Perfect+Day
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Nov 11, 2014 09:29
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Benny the Snake posted:Hey a lot of free crits going around. Can I get one for my most recent entry?. Sure, here you go. Benny the Snake posted:My First Beer There was some examples of telling rather than showing, but overall this is an average story that doesn’t do anything spectacular, but doesn’t make me want to gouge out my eyes. It was a cute, personal story with a few problems, but not enough to make it hate it. You also sometimes use details that aren't really necessary for your reader to know. Try to cut these downs, and leave only the important stuff that your reader has to know, because it could get a little bloated and your reader could get bored about hearing how your Charmelon is going to evolve.
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Nov 12, 2014 08:50
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is located up in the San Bernardino National Forest. The lake is so high up above sea level that, while we weren't above the clouds, we were above the overcast that morning. The forest itself is comprised of almost nothing but pine trees to the point where the scent of fresh pine was overwhelming. It was towards the end of April and the lake was noticeably swollen from the rain. There was constant chattering going on, and it was coming from these dark-blue birds with feathers sticking up from their heads that made them look like they were wearing mohawks This is a very passive line, just say that the birds were chattering. The combination of their chattering and my Gameboy withdrawal strained what little patience I had to its breaking point. While this has some nice imagery, it feels a lot like a Wikipedia article, and something your narrator wouldn’t really know. If you showed what the narrator was feeling and seeing rather then telling us how the forest was, it would be a lot stronger.
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Your first sentence is a run-on sentence
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Nov 13, 2014 21:34
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Cache Cab posted:If you guys think you're better then me then brawl me Ha, you'll be a smear on the wall once I'm done with you
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Nov 14, 2014 00:55
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Sitting Here posted:Regardless of recent bullshit this brawl is still on. Broenheim, I will be really disappointed if you don't submit for this brawl anyway. You came out swingin', and if Cache Cab isn't a huge loving tittybaby he'll come back and finish what he started. Don't worry, I'll come up with something. Cache Cab, don't be a coward and face me in the Thunderdome. Only through blood and determination can you prove yourself.
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Nov 14, 2014 08:41
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The Saddest Day In The World Once upon a time, a Rhino went to Dairy Queen to get a delicious ice cream cone. But right when before he could take a lick, he dropped the ice cream. The Rhino cried and cried, and some say he even cries to this day.
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Nov 21, 2014 17:38
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The "Hey, I Should Probably Write A Story An Hour Before It's Due" Brawl Entry vs. Cache Cab (Seriously Cache Cab if you submit, you will probably win) Words: 1148 I'm Making A Killing Tonight Jeff opened up the glove box of the car and pulled out his pistol. He checked the magazine, smiled, then slipped the pistol into his waist band. “You ready?” I reached into my jeans and felt the cold steel of my pistol. I hadn’t fired it since last week, so it was full. “A gas station isn’t going to have enough, you know?” I said. “Yeah, but they got something. We don’t have enough time to stage a bank robbery or something.” “The cops will get on our rear end.” “We got bigger poo poo to deal with then cops,” Jeff opened the door and stepped outside, “Anyways, once we’re gone tomorrow, it won’t matter.” I stepped out of the car into the moist air. The rain had made the midnight ride that much more annoying, but we were getting closer to the New Orleans. We walked into the brightly lit convenient store. The bell chimed and the Middle Eastern man heading the register looked up from his magazine and gave us a smile. I nodded back. I walked along the aisles, assessing the store. There were a couple cameras, one pointed directly at the front entrance that caught our faces. Behind the counter, there was a door, probably where another employee was waiting, just in case something goes down. Shouldn’t be too difficult, all things considered. These people aren’t willing to get shot over a couple hundred dollars that they don’t get all of anyways. I grabbed a bag of gummi worms and met up with Jeff in front of the register. He was sipping on a cherry Icee, and looked at the bag. “Seriously, candy? Are you five?” “gently caress you, I haven’t had this poo poo in years.” The cashier rang up the items. “That’ll be five fifty seven.” Jeff looked at me and gave a slight nod. I moved closer to the counter, and Jeff pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the cashier. “Hands up!” Jeff said. The cashier stumbled back and raised his arms. He quickly glanced down, and I jumped over the counter. I looked underneath the counter. “What’s he got?” Jeff asked. “A shotgun.” I pulled the double-barreled shotgun out. It was lighter than usual. I cracked it open. No shells. “Now that’s out of the way,” Jeff said, “Open the register and give me everything you got.” The cashier shook his head. “C’mon now, don’t make this difficult.” “You’re not going to shot me for this little money.” The cashier said. Jeff grinned. “You know what? I like you.” Jeff pointed his pistol to the entrance. “But I got five murders on my name. I’m gonna get locked up for life if the judge spares me.” He fired, shattering the glass sliding door. “A sixth one isn’t going to change any of that.” He raised the pistol to the cashier’s head. “Now, just give us the cash.” The door behind the counter opened, and a younger Middle Eastern man appeared. I grabbed the pistol at out of my pants and aimed it at the man. “Go back inside.” I said. The cashier shouted something in a different language, and the young man disappeared into the back room. “Now then, just give us the money, and you and your boy won’t get hurt, alright?” Jeff said. The cashier opened up the register, and pulled out all the money. He handed it over to Jeff, who quickly swiped through it. “Thank you kindly,” Jeff said. The cashier stared at Jeff, probably wishing to blow off his smug rear end smile. “Let’s go.” I leaped over the counter. We ran into the car and raced out on the empty road. # “One fifty, one sixty, one seventy, one seventy eight.” Jeff said. “Better than we usually get, but still not enough.” Jeff stashed the money into the glove box. “How the gently caress are we going to make a grand in a day?” I asked. “It’s not like we can stop at the next ten gas stations with the cops probably right on our tail.” “We’ll find a way, don’t worry about it.” Don’t worry meant we were hosed. “I know someone in New Orleans. He had a lot of money back in the day. I’m sure I can convince him to give us a loan.” Jeff reached into the glove box and pulled out his pistol. He placed a single bullet into the magazine, and smiled at me. # “If I hear one shot, I’m going to assume that’s you convincing him. If I hear two, I’m running over here and kicking down the door, alright?” Jeff said. “Don’t worry about it, I can handle it. He won’t see it coming anyways.” Jeff walked down the hall. I knocked on the apartment door. I waited a few minutes, and then a voice came out. “What are you doing here?” “I need some help.” I said. The door’s lock clicked and it opened. Christian stood there, his blonde hair somehow longer than it was the last time I saw him. His eyes were sunken and he was dressed in a bath robe, although he was wearing a small heart-shaped locket. “Did I wake you up?” I asked. “Just come inside.” The apartment had an odd smell, like a mix between a wet dog and old cheese. Clothing, towels, and plastic was strewn about the floor. Christian pointed to the stained couch and I took a seat. “Want something to drink? Tea or something?” I smiled. “What, you don’t drink whiskey anymore?” “Turns out that drinking whiskey every morning messes with your liver.” “Yeah, and coke fucks with your nose.” Christian stayed silent. “You quit coke too?” “About a year ago.” “poo poo, I guess anything is possible.” Christian looked at his wrist and sighed. “So, what do you need?” “One grand.” Christian chuckled. “And you think I’m just gonna give it to you?” “I guess.” “What for?” “To get to Panama” “Why Panama?” I smiled at him. “Long story.” Christian leaned in closer. “I got time.” He said. “Yakuza.” Christian laughed and put his hands to his face. “How the gently caress did you get involved with Yakuza?” “Like I said, a long story.” Christian sat there for a while, smiling, probably thinking about how hosed I was. He grabbed onto his locket and lifted it to his face. “How’s it been without Janet?” I asked. Christian stared at the locket. “Alright, I’ll help.” Christian said. “For real?” Christian motioned for me to follow, and we walked into his bedroom. He reached into his drawer, and grabbed a small lockbox. He opened his lockbox, and pulled a small key and unlocked the lockbox. He counted out a grand, and handed it to me. “I… Thank you, so much.” “You owe me.” I hugged Christian, “Seriously, thank you.” “I’m just happy you didn’t shot me.”
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Nov 22, 2014 08:50
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Next week I'm actually going to have time to write, so I'll have enough time to whoop your rear end kid. Brawl me, for realz. (Also, I'd rather have some of my brawl wins not be wins by default).
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Nov 22, 2014 22:25
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blue squares posted:I was just kidding. Maybe I'll take you on sometime. I got assigned a goddamn 2500 word horror story for my current brawl. Your insult will not be forgotten. Be prepared, for once your brawl is done, I will regain my honor through any means necessary.
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Nov 22, 2014 22:47
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Nov 25, 2014 05:33
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Word Count: 1031 Song: Vege-tables More I cut the snow into five straight lines. I sniff them up, letting the bliss overtake my body. I look at my coffee table, crowded with magazines, razor blades, and a pistol. I lie down on the couch and stare at the ceiling fan as it whirls faster and faster. The morning sun breaks through the blinds and lights up the room. I hear birds chirping and laughter from the television. The room starts to darken and the TV’s screen turns into static. I scramble upwards and reach into my pockets. I pull out a Ziploc bag with speckles of snow lining the outside of the bag. I sniff into it hoping to grab the remnants of snow, but I get none. I rush to my bedroom and pull open up my drawers. I throw out everything, clothes, Q-tips, medicine, anything, in hopes of catching some snow. But there is none. Just empty bags. I grab my wallet and open it. No money. No snow. Nothing. The room becomes pitch black and I turn on the lights. They burn my eyes. I sit down on the couch. My hands tremble. A soft voice whispers in my ears. “Need more,” it says. “But how do I get more?” I ask. “Need more,” it says. “Need more.” I repeat. I look down and see the pistol lying on top of a pile of bills. I pick it up and smile. I grab the phone and call Joseph. “What do you want?” He says. “I need some snow.” “Can this wait?” “No. I need it now.” I look down at the pistol. “I got money. A lot.” Joseph sighs. “Alright, meet me in the usual spot in an hour.” I pull out the magazine of the pistol and put a bullet in it. # Joseph stood in the alley with a hoodie and a brown grocery bag. I walk to him with my hands in my pocket, trying to conceal my trembling hands. “How much you got?” I ask, eyeing the bag. “Depends on how much you’ve got.” I grip the pistol in my pocket. “About five grand.” “How the gently caress did you get that much?” “None of your loving business. Just give me the snow.” I reach for the bag, but Joseph pulls it away. “Not until I see the money.” Joseph says. I pull out the pistol and aim it at Joseph’s chest. Joseph stumbles backwards into a dumpster. His eyes look at the pistol then to me. “What the gently caress man? What the gently caress are you doing?” Joseph tries to step backwards, but the dumpster blocks him. “Just give me the snow and it’ll all be good, ok?” I say. “Man, you know I can’t do this. This is enough poo poo to last me a loving month. We can’t live without this. Don’t loving do this man, just don’t.” “Just shut the gently caress up and hand me the loving snow!” I walk closer to him and Joseph falls to his knees. “I can’t do that. Don’t make me do this.” “Just give me the loving snow!” I line the pistol up with Joseph’s head. “You know...” I fire. Joseph slumps over, his head landing on the side of the building, blood splattered on the dumpster. I bend down and pry his fingers off of the bag. I open it. It’s filled with plastic bags full of snow. I imagine the joy that the snow brings, and rush out of the alley. # I cut the snow into five straight lines. I sniff them up, letting the bliss overtake my body. I fall back into my couch, the sun shining through the open window, lighting up room. I see Joseph’s body slumped against the dumpster. I sniff some more snow. I see Joseph’s still eyes focused on me. I sniff more snow. I hear Joseph whisper in my ear, “Why?” I tear open the bags of snow and pour it over the coffee table. Joseph keeps asking “Why?” It keeps repeating, echoing in my head. I bend down and take in more snow, hoping that it’ll shut him up. I close my eyes but his voice keeps on talking. “Why?” “Just leave me alone, god damnit!” I shout. I sweep my hand across the table. The snow floats away and lands in piles of dust on the rug. I cover my ears, but Joseph keeps talking. He keeps getting louder. I clamor to the floor, trying to grab some of the snow. It slips through my hands like grains of sands. I sniff the rug, inhaling some snow, but his voice continues. “Why?” “Why?” “Why?” “I don’t loving know, ok! Is that what you want to loving hear?” The voice stops. I look at my hands, covered in snow. Everything is silent. No sound, just emptiness. “Joseph?” I ask. “Joseph, are you there?” # Joseph walks in to the room with his grocery bag. “Sorry I called you so late but I really needed the poo poo.” I said as I pull out the cash and hand it to him. Joseph stands still, staring at me. “C’mon man, you gonna give it to me?” I ask. “This is getting out of control. It’s loving 4 in the morning.” “Yeah, and I’m paying you extra. And who gives a poo poo? Cynthia doesn’t know you’re out, right?” “I give a poo poo.” I laugh, “What kind of lovely dealer tries to stop someone from buying?” “One who doesn’t want to see his friend to gently caress up his life.” I walk up to him, my focus trained on the paper bag. “You know I can quit anytime. It’s not a big deal.” I say. Joseph shakes his head, “I don’t know.” I pull out my wallet and grab another two hundred. “Here, I’ll make it seven hundred. That’ll be enough to pay rent, right?” I handed the money to him. Joseph snatched the cash out of my hand and gave me the paper bag. He slams the door as he leaves and I sit down on the couch. I open the bag filled with snow. I cut the snow into five straight lines, letting the bliss overtake me.
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Dec 1, 2014 05:50
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A Story About People Doing Crits I guess I'll just do it later. It's not like anyone cares
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Dec 8, 2014 08:19
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This is prompt is too good not to be in
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Dec 9, 2014 07:44
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Previously on ThunderdomeBroenheim posted:The "Hey, I Should Probably Write A Story An Hour Before It's Due" Brawl Entry vs. Cache Cab (Seriously Cache Cab if you submit, you will probably win) blue squares posted:The worst story to ever win a brawl Broenheim posted:Next week I'm actually going to have time to write, so I'll have enough time to whoop your rear end kid. blue squares posted:I was just kidding. Maybe I'll take you on sometime. I got assigned a goddamn 2500 word horror story for my current brawl. Tonight on Thunderdome Alright blue squares, you're done with your brawl. You had lovely excuse last time, but I allowed it because I was feeling merciful. So now, you better put your words to where your mouth is. Brawl me kiddo. flerp fucked around with this message at 22:28 on Dec 11, 2014 |
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Dec 11, 2014 22:25
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Im not gonna make it this week, so the dm throne will not be mine yet
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Dec 15, 2014 05:41
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Brawl Vs. bluesquares in Order to Prove My Dominance of the Porcelain Throne Word Count: 886 Black Cherries Sarah heard the front door slam close like every night. She wanted to follow her father out tonight to see how far he had gotten. She held back that desire like every night and fell back asleep. Her father would always sneak out in the night. The first time Sarah heard the door close, she went out into the night to find her dad. She found him in a corner of the park, digging. She watched him dig for a couple minutes, wanting to ask what he was doing. She never did. She woke up that morning to her dad knocking on her bedroom door, with the smell of bacon in the house and a smile on her father’s face. Like every day. That morning there was no knock and no smile. The house smelt empty. She went downstairs to find her mother throwing another napkin on her growing pile. Sarah went up to her. “Dad’s gone.” Sarah hugged her mom. She wanted to tell her where her dad went, that he must’ve found what he was looking for. She knew her mom wouldn’t understand, call her silly, or just ignore her. But Sarah couldn’t sit by. She knew she could find her father. So that night, she snuck out into the garage and grabbed the muddy shovel. She carried it to the hole. Once there, she peered down into it. A wooden door was at the bottom of it. It looked like if it was opened, it would only lead to more dirt. Sarah opened it and a powerful vacuum sucked her through the door. She slid across gravel, cutting her skin. She pulled herself up and found herself in a strange place. The sky was dark, the stars and moon having disappeared. Trees with black leaves lined a path leading to a golden tower. Sarah steeled herself and walked towards the tower. As Sarah approached the tower, she noticed that the bottom of the tower was a cell. A shivering man laid in the corner of the cell, his clothes tattered. Her father. Sarah ran up to bars and shook them. “Dad!” she shouted, but her father didn’t move. A hand touched Sarah’s shoulder. She turned back slowly to see a person standing above her, wearing a leather cap and a white mask. The cold from his hands seeped through Sarah’s clothes, chilling her bones. “Do you want to free your father?” The man asked. Sarah nodded. “Then I want you to do something for me. Go into the fields. There will be trees filled with cherries. I want you to give me a basket full of cherries. Once you have them, come back to here and I will free your father.” Sarah looked at her father, cold and miserable. She wanted to save him. “Ok.” # Sarah dragged the basket through the black dirt. She had been picking cherries for what felt like hours, but the basket was filled halfway. Sarah reached for another cherry. Just before she placed the cherry into the basket, her stomach growled. She took the cherry and ate it. It was the most delicious cherry she had tasted, sweet and juicy. She reached into the basket and grabbed another cherry. She kept eating and eating. She couldn’t stop herself. As Sarah reached into the basket again, she found none. In her trance, she had emptied the basket. Sarah looked around, and found that all the trees had been picked clean. Sarah imagined her father in that cell, freezing and confused. She could see her mother, tears falling from her eyes. Sarah started crying and her tears landed on the dark ground. A hand moved across Sarah’s face, catching her tears. She opened up her eyes to see hundreds of white spirits floating in front of her. They moved around her, trying to cheer her up. She smiled at them, but the spirits kept dancing, knowing that Sarah was still sad. “What’s wrong?” the spirits whispered together. So Sarah told them about her father and what she had to do. The spirits took off into the forest. Each came back with a cherry, filling up the basket. Sarah grabbed the basket and the spirits led her out of the forest and back to the tower. The man stood in front of the cell and Sarah offered the basket to him. He looked at it, then at Sarah, and snapped his fingers. The bars rose out of the ground, releasing Sarah’s father. Sarah ran to him and hugged him. He shook his head, losing the fog that clouded his mind. He hugged Sarah back. Together, they took the path back to the door. They left that dark world behind. When they walked through that door, the sun shined on them and they walked back home. When they stepped into their home, Sarah’s mom rushed over to them and embraced them. Sarah’s dad looked at her and smiled. The next morning, Sarah woke up to a knock on her bedroom and the smell of her father’s cooking. She went downstairs to see her mother at the table, smiling at Sarah. Sarah sat down at the table, and her father sat down next to her. “So, where did you two go?” Sarah’s mom asked. “It’s a crazy story.” Her dad said.
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Dec 28, 2014 05:37
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