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In like woah.
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Jun 21, 2015 10:08
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| # ¿ Apr 23, 2024 19:27 |
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Also take a flash rule, please.
Grrr-Krishnakk fucked around with this message at 08:18 on Jun 22, 2015 |
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Jun 21, 2015 10:18
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Sweet Freedom Garrett sipped his coffee and thought about emotions. It was a subject he’d been devoting a lot of reflection to lately. Right now, he was aware of feeling mildly anxious. It had been so long since he felt anything besides fear he was finding it a surprisingly novel experience. Even when he was drafting the plan there was nothing but emptiness. He sipped his coffee and eyed the door of the bank. A slight figure shambled into the glow cast by the streetlight outside the bank, and Garrett’s mind slipped from anxiousness to blank, mindless terror. He flinched back into the shadows where he stood and stared at the woman as she shuffled past the door of the bank in a rolling, unsteady gait. Garrett forced himself to think, pushing aside his sudden fear and silently cursing himself for a coward. He had to focus. It was almost time to go. The woman had now passed around the corner of the bank, disappearing into the shadows of the parking lot. Garrett knew that She was heading for her car, where She would get back behind the wheel and keep working on Her bottle of cheap bourbon, listening to country music on the radio and smoking cigarettes before emerging in an hour for another symbolic patrol. Garrett counted to ten before ditching his coffee and donning his latex gloves. Hefting his heavy backpack and gym bag he quickly paced around the opposite side of the bank away from where the woman had just disappeared. He reached the rear service door and pulled a heavy key from his pocket, a tiny LED lamp swinging from the key ring. As the key slipped into the lock he remembered how terrified he’d been when he stole the original days earlier to make this copy. The plan could have been discovered and destroyed right there, because he knew that if She noticed his theft then She’d force the truth from him, wringing it out in bloody pieces. Thankfully, the key’s brief absence had gone unnoticed. The door swung open and he slipped inside quickly, pulling it quietly closed behind him. His fingers danced across the number pad on the alarm panel next to the door, the sequence committed to memory from countless times watching Her enter it. He realised he was holding his breath and forced it out slowly, willing himself to try to calm down. He was in. Garrett moved from the narrow corridor into the rear of the bank’s office, weaving between the desks in the dark. From the vault door there were three windows where a passing car would be able to see any light. He set his gym bag down on the ground and pulled out a sheet of thick black canvas and a roll of duct tape. Standing on tiptoe he taped the top of the sheet to the glass of the window, letting it drape down and cutting off the glow of the streetlight. Pulling more canvas from his bag, he quickly did the same with the other two windows. The darkness inside the bank was now almost total. Now that the sheets were up, he felt safer. Further away from Her. He palmed the tiny lamp and moved back to the vault door. He knew the bank’s history, because She’d spoke of it before. Around the turn of the previous century prospectors found a promising coal seam in the low hills a few miles away. A mining concern bought the rights and miners and tradesmen were brought in. They brought with them new diners, bars and whores to keep them happy, and more cops for when they got too happy. The town’s population tripled over the course of three years. To cope with the surprising new demand, the bank’s owners had added a new extension in 1904, building it around an impressively massive new vault. The concrete walls were fifteen inches thick, the door eight inches of solid steel. The coal rush dropped off virtually overnight just months later when the seam was exhausted. The population dropped just as dramatically as it had risen, and the town had limped on in mediocrity since. As a result, the vault had never been upgraded. The owners could never justify the costs of a new vault. Or of adding an alarm to the inside of the vault itself, for that matter. Time locks were added later, but they didn’t matter to Garrett. Crouched in the tiny sphere of light from his lamp he swiftly retrieved his father’s old welding mask from the pack, wiping the visor on his sleeve before slipping it over his head. His questing hands found the hose and the regulator, assembling the pieces before fitting the cutting tool. He reached into the pack and twisted the valves on the small oxygen and acetylene tanks in the pack before setting down the lamp, sliding on heavy gloves and lifting the striker to the nozzle. The cutting torch burst into life, the actinic glare etching surfaces and shadows in sharp relief. Holding the torch to the vault door, he watched as the steel started to glow. Beginning as a deep cherry red, the spot under his torch brightened to orange and then searing yellow as the heat built up in the thick door. A pit formed under his torch as the steel starting running in steaming red globules. Minutes crawled past as Garrett inexpertly carved an opening into the vault door, about one foot above the ground and two feet wide. Sweat was beading on his forehead, less from the heat and more from the return of his anxiousness, and he paused to check his wristwatch. He’d been inside the bank for maybe 15 minutes. He had plenty of time, but he was impatient to be done and away from here. He was acutely aware that She was sitting less than 100 feet away. Garrett was terrified of getting caught. Caught by Her. He bent back to his task, willing the torch to cut faster. Finally, the rough rectangle he had sliced from the vault door fell loose with a clanging, echoing thud. Shutting off the torch, Garrett leaned back and kicked against the cut section. It fell inside the vault and slid across the concrete floor. The area he’d just been cutting still glowed red, and he pulled a can of freeze spray from the bottom of his bag. The searing metal hissed and spat as the spray hit it, rapidly dimming from red to a dull, scorched black. He reached out and dragged the gym bag closer, pulling from it the last bundle of canvas which he laid across the jagged cut at the bottom of the opening. Crawling on his stomach, Garrett entered the vault. His torch played across the safe deposit boxes lining the walls and the trolley of cotton bags, each filled near to bursting with notes and coins. Springing forward he seized the first bag, ripping apart bundles of notes and flinging them into the air. The second bag soon followed, with rolls of coins hurled against the floor and the walls, spilling their contents with merry jingling noises across the concrete floor of the vault. He continued until all of the bags were empty, the floor littered with tens of thousands of dollars. When he drafted the plan he thought he’d enjoy this part, but he remained anxious to just be away. He crawled back through the rough opening, his elbows slipping on coins as he went. An edge of excitement stiffened his spine as he quickly stuffed his cutting gear and the now-empty gym bag back into the pack, swinging it over his shoulder as he marched back to the rear door. He left the alarm off and the door unlocked as he passed through. Creeping to the back corner of the bank, he carefully inched around to peer at the single car parked in lot. In the dark he could see the glow of a cigarette flare briefly before dying again. He inched back and turned away, jogging briskly back across the road to the welcoming darkness of his alley. He’d done it. He was almost free from Her. When his interfering father had died he thought he’d be free to finally indulge his curiosities, not realising his mother would be so intractable. So short-sighted. So infuriatingly obtuse. Soon though, She would no longer be a problem. All that remained was a stop at a payphone on the way back to his car, from where an anonymous and concerned member of the public would report suspicious activity at the bank. Soon afterwards, the police would arrive and find Her sitting in Her car, absolutely oblivious. She’d certainly lose Her job, and probably Her security licence. Soon She’d have bigger problems than frustrating his peculiar indulgences. If he was very lucky, She’d kill herself. Garrett moved back into the alley, merging back into the darkness, in search of a payphone. Wordcount: 1499, because I'm a dick like that. Edit: Oh and critiques welcome if anyone chooses to provide one - I signed up so I'd be forced to actually write something and I'd deffo like to improve my style so fire away dudes. Grrr-Krishnakk fucked around with this message at 01:41 on Jun 29, 2015 |
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Jun 29, 2015 01:10
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That critique was I'm also in again because not gonna get better without actually writing. Flash rule again please.
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Jun 30, 2015 01:12
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On Sabbatical - 949 words Geraldt strode up the wooden steps and banged on the rusty screen door, trying hard to ignore the growing ache in his stomach. The sun had almost set on this crisp fall day, the last shine of its fading light turning the air to gold. Geraldt glowered at it from under the wide brim of his hat. Footsteps thumped on the floorboards and he hastily rearranged his features into an open, honest smile. The door swung open to reveal a plump matron with curling grey hair and a stained apron, her careworn face betraying her surprise at the sight of a handsome, smartly turned-out gentleman on her front porch. Geraldt knew how important it was to keep the mark off balance, and with the gusto of a veteran salesman he launched into his pitch. “Afternoon, ma’am. My name’s Gerry, and I’ve been on a bit of a sabbatical hereabouts. Y’see, I was a sinner and was laid low by my wicked ways, before I found the Lord Almighty. To atone for my sins, I’ve been tourin’ the countryside doin’ good works for the elderly. I was wonderin’ if you had any odd jobs you might want attended to.” “Well, good afternoon to you, sir.” The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly, her tone suspicious. There was a lot of that going around now, after word had spread about an old woman murdered in the next town over. “I might have some work for you, but how much is it gonna cost me?” “Naught, ma’am. All I ask is a meal.” “Well then, I suppose it couldn’t hurt none… where did you say you were from?” “Oh, here and there ma’am. No fixed address. I was a doctor down south, before I found my salvation.” He’d played the doctor card before and it sometimes paid dividends. People trusted doctors. He could feel his eyes being pulled downwards, and he forced himself to look her in the eye. “Uh-huh.” Her nose crinkled and she squinted up at him. “Say, what’s that smell?” “Smell? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, ma’am. Now, if I could tell you about some of my good works-“ “Yeah, that smell. Smells like… sunscreen? An awful lot of it too, for November.” “I’ve very fair skin, ma’am. It burns quite easily.” Geraldt could see the scepticism filter into her expression and cursed himself for an idiot. He had to regain control of the conversation. "Please ma'am, it pains me to speak of my wicked past, but if you'll just let me finish-" “And why are you starin’ like that? I’ll have you know I’m a respectable woman!” His eyes snapped up from her neck, as she jerked the neckline of her apron collar closed. “Oh no ma’am, I was just… uh, admirin' your necklace?” That was even worse. “You ought to know that it was a gift from my late husband, sir. I don’t know what you think you’re doin’, starin’ like that at a respectable woman. Are you a pervert?” Geraldt was getting frustrated, his patience eroded by hunger. His smile started to fade, and he just looked more harassed than honest. He could feel his canines starting to pulse. “Please, ma’am, I’m not after anythin’ more than a meal. Like I said, I’m a doctor and I’m takin’ a sabbatical, doin’ odd jobs for the elderly and helpin’ those as I can-“ “I think I know what help you’re intendin’, sir. And don’t try grinnin’ at me, that won’t work either.” Geraldt clapped his hand over his lengthening teeth. “Ma’am, please, even if you don’t have any work, could you let me in for a drink? My time walkin’ the countryside has given me a powerful thirst. No funny business, on my honour.” That was his trump card. It was hard for people around here to refuse that scant comfort to a traveller, with their quaint notions about old-fashioned hospitality. He could see her wavering, and in that moment he knew he was in. In the sudden vicious surge of his hunger his eyes were drawn back down to her throat, where he could just pick out the twitching of her jugular. He realised his error and dragged his eyes back up, but it was too late. He’d blown it. She stood staunch in the doorway, her course features now set in an expression of firm resolve. “You may certainly have a drink, sir. But you wait here, I’ll bring you a glass.” The door slammed in his face before he could voice an objection. Geraldt was furious with himself. He’d been so close! The door swung open again and he opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the glass thrust at his chest. He barely caught it, managing to only spill half of the water down his front. The door slammed shut again. Beside the door, the curtains over the front window twitched aside and her face appeared, peering out at him suspiciously. “Leave the glass on the step when you’re done, pervert!” Geraldt turned and stalked back down the creaking wooden steps, dropping the glass into the dust of the road. The sun had now well and truly set, and he doubted he'd be able to convince anyone around here to let him in after dark. It was looking increasingly likely that he’d be chasing raccoons again tonight. Vampirism had made a lot of progress in the modern age, especially with the advent of strong sunscreen, but the old laws of invitation into sanctuary remained as stubbornly inviolate as ever. Geraldt sighed over his rumbling stomach and kicked at the dust as he trudged towards the next house in the distance.
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Jul 6, 2015 04:38
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I forgot to ask, how do you feel about editing after posting? I know it's verboten in Thunderdome proper, but I didn't see it mentioned in the Gamerdome rules.
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Jul 6, 2015 07:25
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Assumed as much, just wanted to make sure.
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Jul 6, 2015 08:14
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Phew, awesome. I almost had to bow out too, but I was lucky enough to get an opportunity to put something together just before the deadline. Glad I did now.
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Jul 6, 2015 22:21
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In again, though I'm pretty sure I'm just going to end up embarrassing myself. That hasn't stopped me for the last two weeks though I guess. Flash rule, please. I know nothing about animes.
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Jul 7, 2015 09:26
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I forgot when I signed up that I had to go away for a couple of days. Heading back home tomorrow and I should be able to pull something together but I'm pretty sure that I'll be gunning for that losertar.
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Jul 13, 2015 13:03
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Ryuu's Game - 465 words Prince Ryuu sighed and fidgeted, He’d never been so bored! It seemed nothing would entertain The blinded little lord. He’d pinched the servants and the guards And kicked his father’s hounds But even in these favoured games No joy at all was found. “So what to do?” Prince Ryuu shrieked “I know! I’ve just the thing! Call all the boys together, Let our tournament begin!" The serving boys were rounded up And brought out to the yard, A great ring was chalked on the ground, The stones were greased with lard. Ryuu proclaimed “The time has come, To find out who’s the best! On this slippery field you’ll find You’re in for quite a test! The gem I hold here in my hand Is victory’s reward, So fight, my friends, and slip and slide So I won’t be so bored!” Tetsuo, the young and small, Was shoved into the ring “You have the joy of being first, Now let the fight begin! Remember though,” Ryuu explained, “I have been blind since birth, So shout out your attacks Before you strike, now, prove your worth!” Tetsuo never fought before, He was so shy and meek - But that tiny jewel could feed His family for a week! And so he dodged the first boy’s fist The greased stone was too slick, His opponent fell and raised his hands When Tetsuo yelled “Low kick!” The others could not hit him, Couldn't land a single blow, They’d tire and Tetsuo would shout And strike, and down they’d go. At last he faced the largest boy, Who shouted “Lunge attack!” He bulled forward and caught Tetsuo And flung him on his back. “Stomp!” the brute cried out, “Foot stomp!” Tetsuo tried to retreat A foot lashed out and caught his chin, He crumpled in a heap. Time seemed to slow for Tetsuo, As he struggled to rise, If he did not get up and fight, He wouldn't win the prize. The large boy thought that he had won, He heard Tetsuo roar, He turned as Tetsuo's "Flying punch!" Thundered across his jaw. He staggered, puzzled as his eyes crossed And rolled up inside his head, He fell down in a boneless sprawl - Tetsuo had won instead! Tetsuo was brought before Ryuu, The whole court held its breath, "Well done, Tetsuo, you've fought quite well, But the fights aren't finished yet! Throat punch! Groin kick!" cried Ryuu But Tetsuo stepped aside, Ryuu screamed and fell down hard, His blows both sailed wide. "Well fine!" Spat Ryuu, turning red, "I guess the prize is yours! Now help me up, you peasant, Or I'll see that you're whipped raw! This really was quite good, you know, This tournament was fun! All of you come back tomorrow, We're going to hold another one!"
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Jul 16, 2015 05:16
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Thank Christ that's over with. Probably not the best theme to try poetry with but there was no way I was going to manage a higher word count in the time I'd left myself.
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Jul 16, 2015 05:20
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gently caress yeah, didn't lose 
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Jul 17, 2015 11:26
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| # ¿ Apr 23, 2024 19:27 |
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Actually gonna sit this one out and catch up on some other stuff. Will be around for the next round though!
Grrr-Krishnakk fucked around with this message at 15:23 on Jul 21, 2015 |
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Jul 20, 2015 22:55
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