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Oct 21, 2014 22:42
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| # ¿ Dec 6, 2025 21:37 |
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I'm a big stupid jerk and won't be able to submit after all. I have failed myself and shamed you and my entire family.
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Oct 27, 2014 03:32
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So, uh, do we have to say we're participating or do we just email the story by surprise when it's done?
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Oct 29, 2014 23:02
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In with a 
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Nov 14, 2014 21:57
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The Left Behind 782 words On the sixth day, once the skies cleared and the river ran down to the level of the kitchen lintel, Tom Rhodes and his daughter Lisa left off a game of Monopoly to descend the stairs and see what the waters had taken. The flood, to their surprise, had brought them a great many things. The first they noticed, of course, was the seemingly impossible amount of Mississippi river mud. An ugly brown stain worked its way up the wall to just over the pencil mark recording Lisa’s height at age 7, which meant the river had crested at over five feet, a number that would be debated and inflated beyond all believability in later years when locals discussed The Storm. But there were other things as well: tree branches, leaves, detritus that had washed in through the broken window. A large catfish, quite dead, sat in the center of a puddle of brown water in the middle of their TV room. It was Lisa that noticed the first, most important thing that was missing. “She’s gone,” Lisa said. Tom looked up from what he was working on, a boombox that had been left downstairs in the rush and now made sloshing noises when he shook it back and forth. “Who’s gone, sweetheart?” he asked. “Ruby,” she said, looking down at her toes. “She isn’t here,” she added. “I’m sure she’s alright,” Tom said. “She probably just found someplace dry to wait out the storm, like us.” “We forgot her,” Lisa said, and she looked up at Tom with eyes gone wide and watery. “We left her behind.” And it was true. It had been a frenzy of activity when the water looked like it wouldn’t stop, moving furniture and electronics, emptying the drawers of the silverwear and the cupboards of the plates. Even so, it was a near thing: they’d finished just as the muddy waters had started to pour in through the kitchen door. Was it any wonder they’d forgotten about the cat? No, no wonder, and no use arguing, either. It had never been his idea to get a cat, and even today he wasn’t fond of Ruby. He suspected the feelings were mutual, that somewhere deep in the thing’s feline heart it knew, and that it resented him. Cats could always tell who was a dog person. They were consummate survivors. Yet Lisa loved that cat as she loved all small things, so Tom still found himself up to his ankles in his sodden yard, alternatingly cursing and calling Ruby’s name. He was absorbed enough in this that he didn’t see the woman walking toward him until she called his name. He turned, his face registering his shock when he saw her. She was tall and thin and pale, and the dress that she wore was white and frilly and more than a little old fashioned. She would have looked like a porcelain, except the effect was somewhat ruined by the heavy black fishing boots she was wearing. In her arms, she held a tiny calico cat. Tom licked his chapped lips, and his throat worked like he was chewing. There were million things he wanted to say, most of them hurtful. But what he finally said was: “You found Ruby.” “Yes,” she said, after a moment. “Or, I mean I guess she found me. When the rain started I heard her scratching at the back door, just, you know, like she used to do when she wanted to be let in for food.” “You brought her back,” Tom said, scratching his chin. “Yeah, I thought… well, Lisa must be worried,” she said, pressing the cat into Tom’s arms. “She is,” Tom said. “Yes… well,” the woman said. She turned as if to leave. “Rose…” Tom said. He reached for her shoulder but stopped himself before his fingers reached her “I’m not staying,” she said. “I didn’t,” he said. “Rose, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For, well, for everything. I don’t know if it was…” “It wasn’t. Please. Tom. Don’t make this any harder than it is. I’m… I’m sorry too.” There were a million questions Tom wanted to ask. But when he opened his mouth, what came out was: “What should I tell Lisa?” Rose was already at the front gate. She turned and looked at him for a long time. “Could you, maybe, not tell her anything?” And then she was gone. Again. Tom stood staring at her as she walked away, the cat fidgeting in his arms, trying to get out of his grip, which was suddenly too tight. Through his shirt, he could feel the animal’s heart beating like a tiny jackhammer.”
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Nov 16, 2014 21:11
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In
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Nov 17, 2014 20:06
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Moved
Baby Babbeh fucked around with this message at 00:22 on Nov 20, 2014 |
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Nov 20, 2014 00:09
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sebmojo posted:The Fiction Advice thread is the place to respond to crits. Word.
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Nov 20, 2014 00:21
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In. since that seems to be the only way I can motivate myself not to fail miserably, forever.
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Dec 2, 2014 22:29
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Selfies 609 words Prompt: Screwdriver. It was half past two A.M., and the party had reached that terminal period where the voices started to get lower and the smiles started to be fewer, and the conversations began to circle around themselves in ever tightening spirals, getting closer to the things that nobody actually wanted to say. Everyone was tired but nobody wanted to be the first to leave — not tonight, especially. It was an untenable situation, one Morgan solved by getting up announcing her was going for a cigarette. He posted up at the railing of his mom’s boyfriend’s patio and stared out over the valley as he smoked. When Brett and Johnny joined him he offered them the last two Camels from his crumpled pack. “Meant to ask, how’s Amy taking it?” Brett asked, lighting it up and blowing out a long stream of blue smoke into the crisp night air. “I dunno,” Morgan said, shrugging. “She don’t like it I guess. But she’s starting at Long Beach in the fall anyway. And it’s just 18 months.” “poo poo man,” Johnny said. “You’re lucky you got someone waiting. And it ain’t like a fine bitch like her ain’t got other options.” “gently caress you,” Morgan said, punching him in the arm. “Ah, man, no, I mean it. Like, it’s special what you got, you know?” Johnny said. “Jen and me broke up,” Brett said. “poo poo man, really?” Morgan said. “Yeah,” Brett flicked his cigarette into the darkness. “Said she didn’t want to wait. Anyway, I think it’s been a long time coming. Think it’s just her excuse.” “poo poo,” Morgan said. “I’m sorry dude.” “gently caress that bitch anyway, man,” Johnny said. “You can get a much hotter bitch than her when you get back. You’re gonna be an American loving hero, bro.” “Yeah,” Morgan said. “gently caress her if she won’t wait.” “Hey, you know what. We should take a picture!” Brett said suddenly. “Not just you, the whole group. We aren’t going to be together like this again for a while.” They all of them piled together on the porch, drunk and tired and young, their skins jaundiced and unhealthy-looking in the wan glow of the porchlight, their eyes unfocused from the flash. Some of them were smiling and and some of weren’t don’t, some had their mouths open, cut off mid-obscenity by click of the camera’s shutter. Johnny still had his cigarette and it hung from his lips like a loogie — he had one arm around Morgan and the other around Brett, who had hastily run into the shot before the flash went off. --- “Please?” Morgan typed, regretting it almost the instant the word popped up on the screen. It sounded so weak, so not how he wanted to sound. In the darkness behind him there was the sound of footsteps and muffled conversations — it was nearly lights out, but a base like this never really slept. Somewhere, off in the distance, someone laughed. “I don’t know,” the response came at last, and then another right after it. “I’d feel weird” “I miss you,” Morgan typed quickly, hitting enter. “I want to see you,” he typed right after it. A pause. “It’s not weird for me to want to see you. Just one photo. I’ll never show it to anyone, I promise.” “Okay,” the response came at last. A message popped up on his screen: “Amy2487 wants to send you a file. Yes? No?” Morgan breathed out hard. He turned and looked behind him, but there was only the back wall of the comms tent, and the darkness beyond it. Hand shaking a little, he reached to click the box.
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Dec 8, 2014 04:58
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| # ¿ Dec 6, 2025 21:37 |
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In.
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Dec 9, 2014 19:01
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