|
Here's my homework from last thread. Tesla's Coil 290 words "You! Don't buy that lamp!" I nearly dropped the fishnet leg lamp as I recognized the man standing before me. It was… Me! I had lost weight, gotten beard, and from the smell it had been at least a month since my last bath. "But. But dude, it's that lamp! And it's half price!" "I know. Trust me, I know, but everything went wrong here. You meet the one at trivia night tonight. Her legs, her body, her personality. It's like she's your missing half. You spend the night baring your soul and exploring each other. In the morning she notices the lamp and it ruins everything! You fight over the lamp and she walks out. One month later she's on top of the world. She designed some amazing chair or something that sold in the millions. She's it, the ticket to the big time." "But duuuude. It's great!" Future me rolled his eyes. "Come on man, let it go. The lamp, or keeping the girl of your dreams, your job, not going to the pain of inventing time travel." "We invented time travel?" "Well, yeah I paid bums to be test subjects. After the first few tests they needed a lotta malt liquor to climb into the machine. Eventually I got it right. So you're not going to buy it right?" I sighed and turned away. "Okay, but man it's such a good lamp!" "We're making the right choice here, trust me. Now go get cleaned up for trivia night. You need to be at your best." "Thanks future me." I ran out the door with a huge grin on my face. "Pay up Tesla, told you I'm a sucker." "Very well, let's go get some bitches and forties."
|
#
¿
Jan 1, 2015 10:47
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Apr 27, 2024 14:12 |
|
|
I'm in.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 8, 2015 05:47
|
|
|
Blood on the Pampas Argentina 993 words: I woke to the smell of ash choking me. Coughing, I rose to my feet, hand clasped to my aching head. I steadied myself, looked at my hand, and ignored the scarlet dripping from it. "I was coming back into the estancia, and then… Rosa!" I watched the last pillars of what had been home collapse into a smoldering pile. It was dark, the stars overhead concealed by a dull blanket of clouds. The other gauchos, Ramirez and Diego lay near the skeleton of the house. Their ponchos had soaked through, and a brief search revealed their guns had been stripped like mine. I cut a strip of dry cloth from Diego's bombachos and bandaged my wound. The owner was dead, his wife as well. Rosa was all I had left. They had been careful approaching, but left without any effort at stealth. The trail they left was an arrogant statement, one I would make them suffer for. The horses were gone, driven off or captured, so I had no choice but to follow on foot. A few miles down the road I found signs that they had split off into three groups, with the largest one at least five strong. I couldn't be sure in the night, but the large group held a deeper set of tracks, as if it was loaded down with a passenger. I had to hope I read the tracks right. An hour or so later the sun started to rise, and I forced myself to stop. The heat soon melted away the cloud cover and near the horizon I saw indistinct shapes that had to be the riders. Dropping down to my belly I went still. An hour passed and there was no sign of movement. There was every sign that they feared no survivors. With no gun at hand and no horse I had no choice but to crawl the only relief from the sun found in the hat I had retrieved from the ruined estancia. The sun beat down and my throat grew dry, parched. Finally, after an eternity of crawling towards them, I slept. When I woke the men had vanished, concealed by the distance now between us. I rose up and began to walk. As the sun started to set clouds moved in as well. A moonless night suited me, as the light of their campfire soon became apparent. What's more the sound of cattle lowing made it clear where their meal was coming from. I began to slowly circle around until the sound of the cattle started to drown out the sound of their conversation and laughter. My path was clear and I approached carefully until after an hour I found myself at the edge of the herd. Many of them had settled down without the smell of their roasted compatriot to upset them. I wound my way through the herd, crouched down to give them no hint of my presence. Finally, with a single cow between me and their camp I stopped. One man watched over the herd while the other stood guard near Rosa. The other three lay near the glowing remnants of their fire, sound asleep. Rosa had her eyes closed, but it was impossible to tell if she was truly asleep. With one watching the herd it was impossible to make a move until the man guarding Rosa spoke. "Hey Juan! Watch this." He turned to Rosa and started to slap her. "Wake up puta! I want to play." I nearly lost it, choking with fury, but grew calm when the man watching the herd turned his back . His knife handle was clear even in the dim light of the fire, and I didn't hesitate. Crawling forward I broke into a run, and quickly fished the facón out of his belt. So engaged was he in the sick show that he failed to notice until I had buried it deep into his neck. Dying, with his life's blood bubbling out of his neck, I left him and approached the man violating Rosa. Rosa saw me and couldn't keep the shock from her face. The man turned around to see me as I brought the facón down for a killing blow. Bringing his arm up he yelled out as the blade sank deep into his arm. Reaching for the gun hanging on his hip he managed to pull it. I let go of the facón and seized his wrist managing to force his gun away from me as it went off. I punched him, knowing that my plans of quiet slaughter were so much ash. I struck him again and again until the gun dropped from his limp hand. Coming back to myself I noticed in horror the crimson blooming in Rosa's side. "Martin! You came for me." She gasped in pain as I knelt down to cradle her. "Of course. Rosa Flores, you are the love of my life." Her eyes shut, and I felt the tears scald my sun beaten face. I picked up the gun laying on the ground and turned to face the three men. "Jose." My sins from Texas had hunted me all the way to Argentina. "Martin, thought you'd gotten clean away didn't you?" "You know, I really did. Then again you thought you had gotten me back at the estancia." "I did. So, settle this like honorable men?" His eyes flicked to the man who had died next to Rosa. I leaned down and slowly hung the gun belt on my hips. I rose up and stepped away from the bodies. "I don't have anything better to do. Of course, even if I kill you, these two aren't likely to let me live." "True, but you won't turn down a chance to shoot me yourself." Jose smiled, but there was no joy in it. We drew. We fired, and I fell to the ground. "Rosa, I'm sorry," was my final thought.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 10, 2015 03:29
|
|
|
I want in.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 29, 2015 11:01
|
|
|
Scarlet Dance of Death 1393 words Trouble danced into my office. I say my office, but really it's the Resurrection Jazz bar I crawl into to end my night. "I need your help." She said as she kept up a soft shoe shuffle. The shoes were blood red, and attached to legs that went all the way up. Her dress swayed while she changed over to a tap routine. "Lady, you look like you need a dance partner, not some drunk." For as long as I can remember I've been fixing unusual problems. New Orleans breeds trouble, and not all of it can be fixed by ordinary people. "Please, ever since I slipped these on I can't stop dancing. Everyone I asked said the guy at Resurrection could help. It's been six hours." I took a closer look, she's not exactly young anymore, but not really middle aged either. The sweat was running down her face, and her eyes shined with despair. "So let's say I could help you, what's in it for me?" I might have felt bad, being so blunt, a few decades ago, but that had washed away between the whisky and that drat promise. "You can keep the shoes, and I'll pay you. Please, anything you want, just help me." She was waltzing with nobody, but I could probably turn a nice profit from the shoes. "Alright lady, just stick to the easy stuff and I'll have some kind of answer for you by the end of the night. Hey Sam." The bartender who had been consciously ignoring us looked up. "Get her something to sip on while she's on her feet, it's gonna be a thirsty night." I walked out and the funky smell of the French Quarter assaulted me. I took a few turns and then headed for an alley that's only seen if it wants to be. At the end of the alley I opened up the plain door and stepped into Gomorrah, the best little den of scum and villainy in town. I walked up to the bar and ordered a Bloody Mary. Then I headed for a corner table and sat straight down. "Jovan, so good to see you. What the gently caress are you doing here? Last time you were here half the bar was itching to kill you, and after the riot the other half doesn't like you much either." The creature that spoke wore a business suit, but with no humans to worry about he proudly let his freak flag fly. His face was covered in scales, and his eyes bulged out of his head. He flicked his tongue over his eyes as he continued to stare at me. "Erioch, I can't say that I want to be here either. A mortal got her hand on some cursed shoes though, and she's making quite a scene over at the Resurrection. So the question that came to my mind is who the hell is loving with the peace? You know the powers upstairs and downstairs don't like it when things get too flashy. So tell me who the gently caress is responsible and we can keep this from the big shots." He sneered as his tongue flicked over his eyes. "Why should I tell you when I can do a better job of cleaning up myself?" "Because you first heard this from me. Whoever is doing this is a big enough player to either curse the shoes or keep getting them quiet. Now I know demon magic, and those shoes were some powerful stuff. So tell you what, I'll do the dirty work and you can claim the glory from your bosses downstairs. How's that sound to you?" I heard something heavy approach, behind me and was up on my feet instantly. I flicked the chair up into the air and spun around driving my leg into the thick neck of a big red bruiser. Something important sounding snapped and he collapsed like a house of cards. I turned and faced Erioch. "Last chance, talk or suffer." "It's Guil, okay? I can't touch him, and as far as I know the contract is legit. As far as I know he's got approval. I think the guys downstairs are angling for a war. I don't know why though, business has been up." "Good to know Erioch, and hey, better luck next time." I walked out the door and grabbed a taxi for downtown. Guil was a bigshot, and he preferred skyscrapers to streets. As I entered the building the security guard stood up to try and stop me. I flashed a toothy grin at him and he thought better of it. Guil gives the mortals working for him a fighting chance, but that requires the intelligence to back down. I hit the elevator and smiled when it stopped between the twelfth and fourteenth floors. I like the cliches. His secretary resembled a blond bombshell from the covers of magazines, but I've seen Rodentia out of her work clothes and it ain't pretty. "Hey Rody, I need to see your boss." "You know you need an appointment." "Yeah, so I'm making one for right now. You're not going to make me ask mean are you?" She paused and it got a little dangerous for a moment. The tension vanished when the intercom crackled. "Send him on in, I don't feel like calling for a cleaner at this hour." She shrugged her shoulders and buzzed me through. Guil was sticking to the rules and appeared to be a tall, powerfully built man in a pinstripe suit. "Jovan, you've been making waves tonight." "I could say the same, those shoes aren't exactly subtle." "Well there's something about the classics. I have to say it's one of the better curses I've ever made. That girl wanted to move like a goddess, and she'll keep dancing till she's dead. Nothing can stop those shoes." "That's not what I want to hear Guil. This is way too loud for either side to really be happy, and that could mean war." "Yeah my bosses have run the numbers and have decided to give it a go. So I didn't really have much say in it." He kicked up his feet and that's when the windows shattered. Glass came flying in and I felt some of the larger pieces bite into me. Guil was less fortunate as he had a sword buried in his throat. Standing on the desk above him was a figure dressed in a black body suit. She was gorgeous, and except for the enormous white wings on her back. She turned to stare at me. "You are fortunate not to be on my list leech, but we will soon shine a light in every corner of this dark city. Run and hide while you still can." A woman like that is not to be toyed with lightly. I made my way to the elevator and let Rodentia know she needed a new boss. On the ride down I thought about what I had learned. I was clearly in the middle of something way bigger than I like. When I finally came in near Resurrection Jazz I knew what I had to do. "Hey lady, bad news. Your feet or your life, choose one." "What?" She had kept going strong, and one of the more adventurous regulars was tangoing with her. He spun and dipped her low, but when he stepped away she kept on dancing. "Lady those are your only options unfortunately." "I want to live! What do we do?" "Sam, ax me." He pulled the ax out and tossed it over. I got both her feet in a clean sweep. As she collapsed to the floor Sam brought over the bandages to patch her up. The cut was clean, and she had drunk enough to not quite understand. We were fortunate that Resurrection had only regulars at this hour, as they were aware I dealt in the stranger side of New Orleans. We carted her up stairs to one of the bed rooms, and then I got a broom and gently herded the still dancing shoes to the broom closet. I ended up pointing her in the direction of some good prosthetics and took only a nominal fee. Things were heating up and hopefully I wasn't going to be caught out in the sun.
|
|
#
¿
Feb 1, 2015 10:27
|
|
|
hey pretend that slash through is spoilers instead, or not, your call
|
|
#
¿
Feb 1, 2015 10:28
|
|
|
interprompt!
|
|
#
¿
Feb 2, 2015 10:45
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Apr 27, 2024 14:12 |
|
|
The Stache 200 Words "Oh my God sir, it just keeps growing!" "What did you say?" The commander's mustache bristled at the young man. "They keep writing stories sir, and some of them are really bad." He quavered at the intimidating mustache. "Why do they keep writing?" As he harrumphed his mustache shot out an inch. The young man stared, but kept silent. "I asked you a question. Are there any prizes?" He shot an evil look at him and his mustache shot out another inch. "No sir, you just make up the prompt for the next pile of stories. Umm... Sir?" "What is it private?" As he frowned down on the young soldier his mustache grew at least a foot. Despite this it went unnoticed by the commander. "Your mustache, sir." He said, averting his gaze as he heard the hairs bristle out to six feet in length. "Do you envy it private? It takes hard work to grow a mustache like mine." The private raised his eyes to meet the commanders and stared as the mustache kept growing longer and longer. It filled the small room, and the young man was consumed by the hairs. "Can't handle a real mustache? Oh well."
|
|
#
¿
Feb 3, 2015 10:55
|
|