I found this wonderful oasis of inspiration and constructive criticism through the good samaritan C7ty1's helpful post in a seedier part of these forums.
And now that you know who to blame for the imminent gushing of blood from your eyes, I can declare that I am in.
Edit: Also, if you are one who flashes, flash me hard.
Fuubi fucked around with this message at 11:36 on Jun 3, 2016
|# ¿ Jun 3, 2016 10:46|
|# ¿ Oct 19, 2021 11:38|
Friday's rule: Wednesday's rule Anime genre (super powers/ecchi/comedy) + Tuesday's rule four words (Euclidean/Euphoric/Juxtapose/Syzygy)
Word count: 1518
"Listen, all I want is my potato." George replied to the burly Japanese man who had just barked something unrecognizable in his face. "Just let me enter this establishment and get my potato."
The guard grunted something else unintelligible and gave George a push that sent him sprawling into the cold night air. The muddy street, lit by the red paper lanterns that promised untold earthly pleasures for those who dared enter this part of the city, rushed up and hit him in the face like a scorned lover's slap.
The cold and slimy sensation of his nose and mouth filling with mud overwhelmed him even before the pain of his smashed-up face, and as the heavy rain drummed on his back he could feel his conscious slipping away...
George drifted in and out of consciousness, catching glimpses of light and an angel's voice. His body felt light, and he wondered, before darkness reclaimed him, if he had actually died and was lifted to heaven. A brief pang of guilt for his potato was his last thought.
Clarity finally found him, and the sensation of warm fluffiness told him he was off the cold street even before he opened his eyes. The bed was on the floor, and as he gazed around the room he found it traditional Japanese style, from the rough tatami mats on the floor, to the paper walls, and sliding doors.
Where am I? he wondered.
He saw a window on the other end of the room and stepped out of the bed to have a look. He had taken two steps when he realized he was in the raw, and as he stood there, mid-stride looking down at his crown jewels, the sound of a door sliding open echoed through the room. He turned his head slowly toward the sound, and his deer-caught-in-a-headlight eyes met the eyes of a tomato.
Well, a tomato covered in long, black hair. Attached to the tomato head was a body seemingly made of a silky-creamy material, with the way too voluptuous bosom starkly juxtaposed by the thin waist and legs that created a strange syzygy, partially covered by a schoolgirl's uniform that must have been at least a few sizes too small.
George felt the girl's gaze move over his body, and he himself had a hard time controlling what his eyes were directed at. He felt the heat rising, and it was the dim awareness of something warm and wet running down his chin that finally snapped him out of it. A split second later a "HENTAIIII DESUUU!" filled the air, and a hand travelling at the speed of instant transmission sent him flying through a paper wall with a slap-shaped mark across his cheek.
"I'm so sorry-desu," the girl with the long, black hair said, as she put some foul-smelling ointment on George's cheek. "I reacted poorly. I shamed my ancestors today-desu."
"My name," George informed the young woman, whose name was Hadaka Josei desu apparently, as he sat on the floor by a small table, "is George DeNalle." He paused for a second, waiting for the light of recognition and subsequent admiration to turn on in the girl's eyes. All he got was a mildly confused and curious look and a "desu?" from her tilted head.
"DeNalle. De. Nalle? The famous agricultural artist? The man who 'reshaped the look on vegetative art?' The man who 'created a paradigm shift in the sense of the essense of potato?'"
"I am sorry. I have not heard of this name before-desu." The girl replied.
"You seriously don't know me? I've been featured in of all the major news outlets and weekly magazines of worth for the last two decades. Agricultural Weekly, Farmer's News, Arts and Agriculture..."
"I can't believe I have to explain this... I'm an agricultural artisan. My life has been devoted to finding the true meaning of the potato. To distill its form into artistic perfection, if you will. And last year I finally did it." He smiled.
"That potato won me awards all over the world. People could not stop talking about it. How its euclidean shape perfectly complimented the gray-brown color, and how it seemed to evoke euphoric feelings of bliss many only thought they could find beyond this life."
George looked at Hadaka sitting opposite of him, her head resting in her arms on the table, eyes closed. She's been moved to absolute calmness by mere mentioning of my potato, he thought satisfied. Her hair, spread out like black sunrays over the table, encompassed the oval shape of her face, and for a second heat rushed toward George's head. Like a potato...
He shook his head to clear away some disturbing thoughts, and continued.
"Anyway, to keep a long story short, two days ago I found my potato missing, and the GPS tracker I embedded in it pointed me to this place."
George's face suddenly grew dark. "I must get my potato back!" He growled and slammed his cup onto the table.
"Whuzzat desu?" The young woman mumbled as she rose her head from her arms, with her obsidian hair sweeping like silk over the table. The pale smooth skin of her legs as she stood up were enough to send George into another hot spiral of confusion and potatoes.
Suddenly, a smashing sound reverberated through the room, and the paper doors came crashing onto the floor.
George was on his feet before he realized, cup in his hand ready to throw, staring at the smoke-filled hole in the wall. A huge shadow came striding through smoke. A wind seemingly from nowhere blew the smoke away, revealing an immense beast of a man dressed all in black. A huge sword on his side drew George's eyes, even before the repulsive scar across the immense jaw.
"Ah, there you are, my artisan friend." The voice was dark and full of spite. "That potato of yours, I need you to grow more. It gave me great power, and, I must say, a hunger for more. Also, it was quite... succulent."
The world froze. He... ate it? The power went out of George's legs. All his strength, gone in an instant, and he fell to the floor.
He noted a shwiiing sound and suddenly a blast of air almost lifted him off the floor. He looked up and saw Hadaka standing over him, legs apart in a battle stance, with a katana in her hands. pink, he thought feeling the heat grow again, followed by Where did she get that katana from?
"You cannot have him, evil man desu!" Hadaka proclaimed. "I am Hadaka Josei, granddaughter of Hadaka Dansei. My sword will cleanse this world of your evil-desu!"
The man seemed taken aback, but quickly recovered. "Dansei's granddaughter... Heh, this will be interesting."
The air went still, and George could only watch in horror as the man drew his enormous cleaver.
"Come then, girl. Let's dance."
The ground shook as their swords met. Fire and sparks of lightning leapt from their blades as they clanged together over and over. The evil man's strength seemed overwhelming, but Hadaka parried each blow, redirecting its energy into the floor and walls. George's mind was full of terror at what he saw. This was all so surreal! All he wanted was his potato back.
Potato... that fiend ate my potato! A rage was building up inside him. Something he had never felt before in his life! His hands stopped trembling, the terror fled and only rage and agony of what he had lost were left.
A sudden SNAP, followed by a sharp THUNK, made him look up.
"KYAAAA DESU!" Hadaka screamed as she fell to the floor, still clutching her sword hilt. Most of the blade had imbedded itself in the floor next to George after it had been cut off.
"Ah, girl. You have me a workout, but it seems your skills just weren't enough."
George looked at the blade, rage flowing through his veins. "YOU. ATE. MY. POTATOOOOO!"
In a flash he was up sword blade in his hand. Blood streamed from his hand where the blade cut deep, but George didn't even notice it. He lunged towards his opponent, sword held up in front of him.
A grunt of surprise escaped the man before he raised his sword to defend himself. The blade in George's hand felt like fire, and he fueled it with the fire that filled his very essence.
The blades met, and George felt the evil man's essence for a moment before his own overwhelmed him, and with a slash the darkness dissipated.
George stood there for a while, as a gust of wind blew some dust between them. The clattering sound of a huge sword falling to the ground followed by a lohd THUMP told him that it was over. He had won.
He fell to the floor, his vision growing dim, and as he felt Hadaka's hands on him and he saw her tears, he knew all was well.
He let darkness take him.
|# ¿ Jun 6, 2016 06:59|
Hell, last week was a disaster. This week I'm in for a catastrophe!
|# ¿ Jun 7, 2016 10:15|
Thanks! Yeah I felt I'd be somewhere in the bottom with this story...
...but don't worry! I'm halfway through the next one and it's completely not as bad as this one! (no promises)
|# ¿ Jun 9, 2016 12:35|
Legends of War
It is said, though myth is all that remain, that before the Age of Blessing, all had been war. In this era of darkness, now known as the Age of Nihil, nothing had grown but with a foulness to it. There had been no salvation for the people of this age. But then, as all seemed but lost, a light had blossomed, and a champion had stepped forth and cast the Spider King into the abyss of time.
The records of these days had been long lost, only fragments of fragments left in the wind, by the end of the Age of Blessing. No one remembered the history of the evil king, and only children's tales and bedtime stories still held some of the essense of this age long past.
So it was with great horror that one the light turned into night as the warm and gentle sun vanished behind billowing clouds of miasma, and the wind, once gentle, blew with ferocity.
A fortress, obsidian and raven, rose from the vile darkness into the sky, and the Spider King once more took rule over the lands.
There must now be said that, at the end of this age of prosperity, there were no champions ready to deliver the lands from evil's grasp. The knowledge of war had long ago been lost.
There were no champions, but there were one who, when everyone else succumbed to despair, stood up and declared "No! Darkness shall not ensnare me! I will not lose hope of salvation. I will not succumb!"
The Queen of Dragonflies, perhaps this age's answer to the cries for a champion, stood up against the forces of evil, and for a while light seemed to shine again. It was a flickering light though, a candle fighting a gale.
The war raged for a year and more, but even though they fought valiantly, the queen's armies were driven back, broken up, and destroyed one by one.
The queen was left with only a remnant of a remnant, and as a last, desperate bid, tried a covert assault on the fortress of night.
I will next present a few excerpts, translated from the Old Language, that details this dark event. The first excerpt is believed to have been written by one of the Queen's bannermen, who is said to have taken his own life shortly afterwards.
"Oh, Woe upon us! The last of the remnants, our honor is lost! The Queen! The Queen is forsaken!
Our strike upon that accursed place was ill contrieved. It was a mad gamble from the start, and now we may all suffer for our foolishness."
It would seem that the attack did not go as planned. What may have occured that would throw the Queen's plans into shambles? What did he mean by calling the Queen 'forsaken'? Another excerpt, written by one of the Queen's warriors, gives us more information.
"All is over. I have failed my Queen, and now I pay the price. This cage will be my final home, before the beasts carve me up and serve me to their king at the feast. My only blessing is that they did not take this book and quill from me.
My Queen, you were the brightest of life in this land! How could this have happened? Why did you let the darkness in?"
Did the Queen turn? Did she see her doom coming, and resolved to save her own life before her men? Did she turn to evil?
Another excerpt, this one from someone who stood by the Queen all the way into the heart of that dark abyss, will give us a better picture of the Queen's actions. The royal guard, who wrote this upon her death bed several decades after the event, speak of a dark decision.
'We confronted the beast of our nightmares in the throne room where he presided. The Queen walking under the banner of light, symbolizing our struggle and our belief in salvation.
That monster held many of our men captive, and his beastly cohorts had already set to feed on our dead. It was a sight macabre to say the least.
The evil one himself stood as we arrived, a wicked smile playing on his lips.
"Ah. My dear Queen. What a delight to see you here." He paused to stroke his long, gray beard.
"You must excuse the mess. My men can be so... unruly." He turned to the beastly beings who were ripping the flesh of our dead allies' bones.
"Now men," he started. "Is this how you behave in front of a Queen?"
His vicious laugh echoed through the halls.
"So, my Queen, what do I owe this honor?" He looked at her amusement glinting in his eyes.
The queen, may the light and love preserve her, stepped forth with an offer.
"You are a blight upon this land," she began, the fire in her heart rising and given life by her words. "And I have sought to end your foul life with all my means. I have vowed to see your lowly, miserable, husk of an existence destroyed myself!"
Her voice cooled, though the fire still shone in her eyes.
"I come to you with a proposal. You have won. We can no longer win. If you vow to let my people hiding across the lands live freely, I will let you have this land. There is enough space for your people, and you have our livestock so food is notan issue."
A gasp was head from the Queens followers.
"Do not do this!"
The banner of light clattered to the ground, as the bannerman stepped back in horror. Other did the same. With a cry of despair the ranks broke, and many of the men fled her side.
I myself felt the stab in my heart, but my feet stood firm next to my Queen.
"Your men betray you," the old man said.
"Yhey are of no consequence," the Queen responded.
"What say you? Do we have a deal?"
"A deal? Hah, I already own this land! You can give me nothing!"
"There is still one thing I can give," the Queen said. "Me."
"A union?" The wicked old man leered. "Now this is intriguing."
He sat back on his throne. "Very well! I vow to let your people hiding in these lands be. They are free if you marry me and become my queen!"
He sneered. "But those men who betrayed you... they are not 'hiding in this land' are they." The evil one laughed. "Men, we need meat for the feast! Go get some!"
The cruel men jered and rushed off after the soldiers who fled.
"Now let's get the preparations underway!"
Oh woe to us who are doomed, I remember thinking at that time, because it shurely felt like the end'
Now what happened next, I believe it is only prudent to conclude this story with the queen's own words.
The Spider King is dead. He died with a wimper, time itself the assassin.
I remember seeing him for the first time as he began his assault on these blessed lands, a young, cruel, king. It was a shock to me to find him an old, half-mad man only a year later. I surmise that something affected him when he was locked away in the timeless void, and once free, time sought to catch up.
I married him, became his Queen, and now I am the ruler of this land once more.
His hordes are in disarray, killing each other over leadership, and I am in a position to steer thim away from destroying this land.
There will still be some time of turmoil, but the war is over, and light has, by the fate of time, come out on top."
|# ¿ Jun 13, 2016 04:27|
Submission Deadline: 11:59:59 PM EST on Sunday, 12 June 2016
I thought I had more time?
Edit: I'm a dumbass. I read PST.
I deserve shaming.
|# ¿ Jun 13, 2016 06:26|
I have no idea about cereals so I'm in but flash rule me please!
|# ¿ Jun 14, 2016 09:54|
Cereal: Kellogg's OKs
Grandpa's cereals (1100 words)
The early morning chill was enough to wake Sarah up as she crept past her mom's bedroom. She was pretty sure her mom wasn't home, but Sarah didn't want to take the off chance that she'd actually come back in the middle of the night.
She paused briefly to stick her head through her brother Daniel's door, before continuing to the stairs. Her brother had, as usual, already left his room. He was probably preparing breakfast for them both she thought, as she took the stairs two-and-two with light steps.
Her brother was a year older than her, and he had taken it upon himself to care for his sister when their mom was absent, even though she was hardly a baby anymore. She appreciated his efforts though, and he did make the best peanutbutter-jelly sandwiches.
As Sarah entered the kitchen she found the subject of her thoughts deep in thoughts of his own. Daniel was sitting at the kitchen counter, head resting in his hands, staring with an uneasy look at a strange box in front of him.
Sarah walked up next to him to take a closer look.
"That's not the usual box of Cheerios, is it?"
Daniel jumped at her words, almost falling off the stool he was occupying.
"Don't sneak up on a guy like that!" he exclaimed. "People get heart attacks for less you know."
He looked at her for a second longer, before returning his gaze to the object in front of him.
"Do you... think they are tasty?" he finally said. "I mean, it looks like it's for grownups. Maybe it's a version of those Special K's mom like so much."
"I don't know," Sarah replied, as she walked around the counter. "But that man looks weird. Look, he's wearing a skirt on the backside! Maybe he's one of those 'gay' people mom's always fretting about."
Daniel thought about what his sister had said. "Nah," he finally replied. "I think he's supposed to be Scottish. They always wear green skirts like that."
"Hmm, if you say so." Sarah said, her doubts about her brother's claim thick on her voice. Her brother always made up facts and swore they were true.
If Daniel heard the disbelief in her reply, he didn't seem to care. He kept staring at the box, and once again voiced his concern.
"You think they are tasty?"
Sarah sighed. Boys! They can be so indecisive sometimes.
"Only one way to find out," She said as she reached for the box. "Where did you find them by the way? I don't remember ever seeing them before."
Daniel looked a bit bashful. "I... I found them yesterday. In the attic."
"The attic?" Sarah started. "But mom..."
"I just went up for a quick look." Daniel cut her off. "Mom wasn't at home anyway, and I just wanted to see what the fuzz was about."
Sarah put her hands on her hip, imitating her mom's favorite expression. Daniel looked even more bashful than before, and suddenly she couldn't hold back a laugh.
"So how was it?" She asked, eyes full of curiosity. "Any ghosts or monsters up there like we thought?"
"Nah, just a bunch of old junk. I think most of it was grandpa's."
"You think grandpa liked these?" Sarah asked as she read the back of the box. "There's oats in it. It says they're very healthy."
"Grandpa liked healthy food I think. He always ate broccoli I remember."
"I miss grandpa..." Sarah hung her head low. "He always made things feel right. Even when mom had to work all night, he'd be there for us."
"Yeah... He was great." Daniel suddenly sat up straight and grabbed the box from Sarah with a swift motion.
"If theese were grandpa's then they have to be good. I'll eat them!"
He opened the lid and peered in catiously.
"It looks ok," he said as he started to pull out the plastic bag containing the mysterious cereals inside.
"What's this?" Sara suddenly exclaimed. "Some kind of code on the lid?"
Daniel looked where she was pointing. "12/05/59? Oh, that's just the expiration date you doofus."
"Hey I knew that!" his sister returned hotly. "I was just confused for a second, that's all."
She thought for a moment. "Are... are they still edible? I mean, that's ooold."
"Yeah, I think so." Daniel replied. "I eat older things than that in Fallout 4. It should be ok."
"If you say so." Sarah sounded doubtful.
Daniel opened the white plastic bag and looked inside. "Wow, they're shaped like letters!"
"You mean like Alpha-bits?"
Sarah quickly went to the cupboards and lifted down two bowls. While balancing them in one hand, she dashed to the fridge and took out a bottle of milk as well. She put the items on the counter, and went to grab the spoons while her brother started pouring a big helping in each bowl.
"Aw, drat!"she heard him exclaim as she returned. "There's just O's and K's."
"Well that's too bad," Sarah replied, not without a hint of disappointment in her voice.
Daniel grabbed the bottle of milk and filled most of both bowls with the cool, white, beverage. He bent over his own bowl and gave it a long sniff. "Seems ok."
He then dipped his spoon amongst the floating letters and brought up a big scoop. The milk flowed off the edge, like a miniature Niagara Falls in ivory, as he held it up and studied the now-soggy letters.
Was holding her breath as she waited in anticipation. Her knuckles were white from her grip on the counter edge.
Finally, Daniel took a deep breath and swooped the spoon deep into his mouth.
He started chewing hesitantly, and after a few seconds swallowed with a gulp.
"Tastes funny.... Not bad though" He said looking up at Sarah.
He hesitated for a second before bringing down his spoon into the bowl for more.
Sarah shrugged her shoulders, and after one last look at the big burly man in a skirt on the box, she followed her brother's example.
Soon enough, both bowls stood empty on the counter, and the children wee off to prepare for school. Daniel stood by the door, open to the early morning sun outside, while Sarah was still putting on her jacket.
"The bus is coming!" he shouted and darted out the door. As Sarah hefted her backpack onto her shoulders and prepared to go out, she turned and looked at the box, still on the kitchen counter.
"You know," she said to the box.
"You were OK."
Fuubi fucked around with this message at 14:41 on Jun 17, 2016
|# ¿ Jun 17, 2016 14:30|
Since I've been doing so well so far, I'm in! Give me a flash rule!
|# ¿ Jun 21, 2016 11:46|
Ok time for some stylish losing! I'm in, and, since I missed a deadline a few weeks back,
(USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST)
|# ¿ Jul 12, 2016 10:07|
Ok I'm back and in with Swedish Gothic~!
Also flash rule #1 sounds fun!
|# ¿ Oct 11, 2016 17:01|
In as a customer, and, since I failed to deliver last week,
|# ¿ Oct 18, 2016 09:45|
Prompt: Voidmart Customer - Voracious devourer of entertainment
The Finding of Happiness - 1992 words
"Extra batteries?" "Check."
"That little pen flashlight aunt Martha forgot a few years back?" " Check."
"The external hard drive with the Belarusian drama comedy series you haven't watched yet?"
Brian shrugged, glancing away from the small TV-screen next to his checklist, towards his wife. "I'm still pretty sure I've watched it. Remember, I had my Eastern European phase a few years back during the Big Hollywood Drought." He shivered. Those had been a baaad couple of months.
"Anyway, let's finish the list," his wife, Betsie, said.
"Oh, come on!" Brian exclaimed impatiently. "We've been over the list two times already, and I'm losing precious minutes of watching 'Umashikahito' doing this."
Things were not so good for Brian these days. To say he enjoyed watching shows on TV would be the understatement of all understatements. Brian did not 'just' enjoy it. Heck, he didn't even 'just' love it. He could not live without it! It was as important to him as breathing, or taking a poop, and he'd rather go a lifetime without either than miss the next episode of whatever shows he was binging at the moment. In fact, he'd many times gone weeks without doing the latter, until he had a screen installed in the bathroom.
This was not his problem. No, he was completely content with his life, and he did have an active lifestyle. He kept in shape by jogging on a treadmill, and biking on his exercise bike. He met his friends regularly. He was even able to make a good living off of his lifestyle by becoming a professional reviewer for a major online entertainment site. He just did all of these things with at least one eye, and 51% of his attention, on the screen. His problem was that, after spending years watching just about everything ever produced for the tv, he was familiar with every trope, every storyline, and every unexpected twist, that it had started to lose its appeal. It simply did not entertain anymore.
At the moment Brian was in his Anime phase again,but even running subtitles for the hearing-impaired to mix things up did little to stave off the perpetual state of boredom that he felt was looming. Something drastic needed to be done, and there was only one place he could do it.
"What about the map?"
Betsie's sudden question startled him. Does she know?, crossed his mind, before he realized she was talking about the map they had plotted his route on.
Relieved, he glanced back at the screen, where Koisuki had just fired off an earth-shattering attack. It'll miss, he thought with a sigh, before turning back to his wife.
"The map is in my pocket. I have all the points charted, I know what roads are the quickest, and I have even marked the battery recharge stations. And before you say it, yes, I know your uncle Frank, the 'cop', got eaten by the cannibals somewhere on the basement levels, and no, I will not go down there, even though it's the fastest route, even if it means being stuck in the elevator lines for a week or more." He took a deep breath, and continued before Betsie could get a word out. "I got enough snacks to keep me going for a month, and I can always get something at the Hot-Dogs-and-Alternatives stands if I run out."
He took her hand, and, after making sure that the Evil Demon Lord Rampushadu was stuck in one of his long monologs, looked her in the eyes. "Sweetie, don't worry. Nothing will go wrong. It shouldn't take me more than ten days, two weeks tops, to reach the entertainment department, and a week max to find the right section and get out with as many shows as I can carry. I might get stuck in the checkout line for a week or so, but all-in-all I should be back home in a month or so. No sweat."
His wife did not look relieved, so she went back to checking the big bag of supplies. Brian turned back to his show, where Koisuke and the well-endowed hamster-lady Waruimono were gathering their energies for a final attack to save the Papier-Mâché kingdom of the Future, and he started mulling over his real plan.
Soon, he would fulfill his destiny at Voidmart.
Just the very name filled men and women of all nations with wonder and excitement, and a little dread. It was the one place where all tour dreams could come true. Literally. I mean, if you dreamt of having your own spaceship, Voidmart had a few thousand off-the-shelf products. If you wanted to start your own colony on a deserted island, you could buy a startup-kit, and lease a suitable island at Voidmart. If you wanted a device that would freeze time around sexy women (or men, Voidmart's all about equality) then that's where you'd find it.
Brian was after something slightly different. His wife had had the, quite brilliant idea that, if the Multiverse theory is correct, then there would exist a literally infinite amount of TV-shows that he had not seen yet. And somewhere in Voidmart, there would be a section with all of these shows just waiting to be snatched up. With a large enough sack, Brian could buy enough of these TV-shows that he'd only need to do this once a year.
Brian had considered Betsie's plan carefully, and then had rejected it. It was good, but Brian's biggest problem was that he was able to see the pattern of the stories, sometimes just from knowing the titles. He was at the point where he could figure out what most characters would say, down to the last inflection. Maybe shows from a different dimension would keep him guessing for a while, but sooner or later he would figure out the pattern, and then he'd be back at square one.
No, his problem wasn't the lack of quantity, or even variety, the stories. His problem was his own analytical skill.
He now stood inside the gates of Voidmart, blinking from all the bright lights and slightly impossibly shaped sculptures on display in the atrium opening up in front of him. He gazed at the walkways and floors, filled with people searching for their dreams, disappearing into the distance far above his head. For what seemed like forever he could do nothing but stare as a new wonder replaced the last, but at last he regained his senses and started thinking of the task at hand.
He took out the map he had made with his wife, crumpled it in his hand, and threw it in the nearest Void-o-matic trash bin. He then proceeded to take out the real map, showing a slightly different route through the gigantic complex. His first stop was at the Hypnosis"R"Us, which meant taking the elevators to the 32nd floor and then proceed to the D-quadrant, a mere 3 days journey away.
Brian opened his big backpack, and took out a small screen, a specially designed stand, a big battery, a hard drive, as well as the necessary cables. He connected the screen to the stand, put the stand in the holster on his belt, and connected the cables to the batteriy and the hard drive. He then put the battery and hard drive back into the bag, pressed a few buttons on the screen, now suspended in front and slightly to the side of him at eye level. Once the screen came to life, he put the backpack back on, and went off to find the store.
At the store, the helpful-but-not-quite-there clerk informed him that while they technically had the item he was looking for, it was at the moment still in the warehouse over in O-quadrant, and had yet to go through inspections. If he was willing to wait, say, two to five months, the clerk kinda groggily informed him, he could have it five percent off. The waiting area, while a bit spartan, was quite nice-looking, Brian admitted, but the fat lady oozing in her own filth who may or may not actually be dead was a bit of a turn-off. Brian declined the offer, crossed out the store on his map, and headed out again.
His next stop, after spending an afternoon at one of the Dark-Energy recharge stations to recharge his setup, was the 438th floor of the F-quadrant. With the ever-popular Home Decor department store being in the same quadrant, the lines to the elevators were a few miles long, so Brian opted to take the escalators. This was the wisest choice, and Brian found himself, after only five days, in front of Vaccuums! a vaccuum store. He went through the display section, where customers were testing out all the newest brands and models of Vaccuums. He almost lost his backpack when one of the industrial strength vaccuums got loose and tore down the aisle. He managed to throw himself out of the way just in time, and after brushing off the dust, walked up to a group of clerks chatting in a corner.
His request was a bit of a long stretch, Brian had admitted to himself, and it turned out to be a dead end when one of the clerks guffawed out a "You want us to suck out what!?"
Not one to be discouraged, Brian decided he might as well go for his final, craziest idea.
Outside the store however he made a horrible discovery. The map was gone! Brian was completely distraught. What should he do now? He didn't even know the path to the exit!
He wandered through the hallways, and over endless walkways for what seemed an eternity. His snacks ran out. The battery for his entertainment system died. He discarded each piece of equipment as he walked with heavy steps, eyes dulled, and nk hope left. Brian was completely lost, and at last he sat down on a couch to die.
"Brian?" A voice woke him up. "Brian Bradbelly, is that really you?"
Brian opened his dried out eyes slowly. After blinking away the blurriness, a familiar face took shape. "Frank?" He sat up sharply. "Is that you Frank? How's it possible? Your brother Everett told us you got eaten by the cannibals!" Indeed, it was uncle Frank, the cop uncle Betsie liked to tell stories about whenever she had a chance.
"What are you doing here? And why are you wearing that?"
Brian looked at the suit Frank was wearing. It was the one Voidmart employees wore, and it had the Voidmart logo in gold and abysmal black and everything.
"Well," Frank began. "The whole cannibal thing is true, though I got lucky and they started on my left leg, you know, the one with the metal plates I got after I kicked the hand grenade. You've heard the story from Betsie, I know." He grimaced in apology, and then continued. "They seemed to think I was a god of some sort, made me their king, and gave me this suit to wear. Later, when an ispector came to check on the cannibals' living condition and found me she took me up here and put me to work. I'm quite happy here actually. No grenades thrown in my face for instance."
Frank looked at Brian. "So, why are you here?"
"Well," Brian said sheepishly. " I'm here looking for a way to get rid of my analytical skills."
"Oh, nothing more?" Frank answered. "That would be the 132nd floor, M-quadrant. The De-Analyzer should do the trick."
"Huh, look at that," Brian sighed.
"Well, I guess I'll try it out. Try to come over for dinner whenever you are off, OK?" Brian said over his shoulder as he walked into the throng of people to find his destiny.
"There's no 'off' at Voidmart," was the reply.
|# ¿ Oct 23, 2016 23:30|
i'll do three crits, newbies preferred. pipe up if you want one.
I'll take a crit, thanks!
|# ¿ Oct 25, 2016 11:16|
The longer it takes, the longer until I'm declared loser.
I'm OK with it.
|# ¿ Oct 25, 2016 18:10|
Yeah, why not?
|# ¿ Oct 26, 2016 17:52|
He soared over the countryside, his sharp eyes seeing even the tiniest movement far below. He swooped down at a slight movement, and rose with the night's dinner in his sharp talons. He was used to the taste of raw flesh by now, and the white rabbit in his grip was still fat from summer's bounty. He would feast well this night.
The first time he found himself like this, he'd been lying in bed, watching the birds fly far above through his window, wishing he could fly away with them. His eyelids had grown heavy, and then he had found himself soaring like the birds above the clouds, feeling the wind through his feathers, breathing the cold night air.
Now he flew every night, taking to the skies to escape his father's shouts, and his mother's tears. He soared high above the hurt and the pain that always followed, when his father sought someone else to take out his drunken anger on.
He knew these were only dreams. That he was not flying high up in the sky, but asleep in his bed, his mind escaping the reality of his wretched life.
There was a shift in the air. He banked, dropping the rabbit carcass in the progress, and flew across the rooftops of the sleeping village. His sharp eyes fixed on a particular open window, and the drunken man standing above a sleeping boy.
His talons felt sharp, and he swooped in.
The boy slept on.
|# ¿ Oct 30, 2016 22:28|
Color me muffins and drink me some blue! I am in!
|# ¿ Oct 31, 2016 15:25|
Pickle Me This Doopliss Battle - Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door
Nick was in a pickle.
The pickle in question was not as salty as the average pickle, but more sweet and savory, and would work well with some paté on a soft piece of bread. That did not change the fact that he was stuck inside a pickle. He'd been in there for a few days now, and it wasn't that bad, except there was a disturbing lack of soft bread and paté. He actually felt quite at home in this sweet-smelling, moist, 'Bahia'-colored space.
There normally weren't many sounds generated by a giant pickle, and Nick had spent his time in there mostly just hearing his own chewing, and the squishing of his boots on the moist floor. He liked the tranquility, so the tink-tink-tinking sound that he'd been hearing for the last few hours were getting on his nerves. Not only was it disturbing the pickled peace he was enjoying, but it was growing larger as he ate himself forward. He hoped that whatever was making the racket would stop soon.
As Nick got lost in thoughts about how lovely this place was, he did not notice the 'Bahia' turn 'Christi', then 'Vida Loca'. It was the difference in, then sudden lack of, texture that brought him out of his reverie, and into the 'Mako'.
The ghost did not seem surprised when Nick fell through the 'Green Leaf' skin of the pickle. In fact, Nick thought as he viewed the creature from his position sprawled on the hard cave floor, the lack of sheets it was wearing made it less of a ghost, and more of a ghoul. He couldn't be sure though; it could be what a ghost looked like under the sheets. What he could be sure of was that the ghost-ghoul, with it's oversized pickaxe, was the source of the tinking that had so vexed him up until now.
Nick stood up and regarded the scene around him. He was in a giant cave, and along every wall, standing, or hanging from ropes high up, were countless ghost-or-ghouls swinging away on pickaxes, mining the different veins of carrot, nougat, pancake, fish, and all the things abovegrounders enjoy. Outside the pickle the tink-tink-tink was very much more pronounced.
The ghoul-ghost next to Nick put down the pickaxe next to its harvest of cheese, and rang a square that it produced from one of its rotten boots. Soon, more creatures approached, and they quickly huddled together and talked in hushed voices.
They crowded together for a long minute, and eventually the discussion seemed to reach a conclusion. One was un-ceremoniously expelled from the throng, and sidled up to Nick on cautious toes. It stood, poised to run away at the slightest twitch, and bent sideways to give Nick a long sniff. A trembling hand slowly closed the gap between the two and pinched Nick, not really pleasantly, on his thigh. Seemingly satisfied with what it had sniffed and felt, the dank creature swept its finger across Nicks belly before putting it in its mouth. With a small nod, it then proceeded to dash back to the rest of the pack, where the chatter soon comenced.
Nick felt that the sniff and the pinch was a bit rude, but since he didn't want to be prejudice in case it was just their form of greeting, he thought it best to let it go. He had also decided that these creatures were, indeed, ghouls, since ghosts are incorporeal, and cannot really touch things.
Looking at the ghouls also made him remember that they were the ones who had placed him in the pickle to begin with, and he also realized that they had a tendency to eat human flesh.
Now, human flesh does not, like popular belief state, taste like chicken. It is actually much more nuanced, and some would even argue, though soon ridiculed, that it taste almost like soft bread with paté. This may or may not have influenced the ghouls' decision to put Nick in the pickle, but he decided not to stay and ask.
One thing people know about ghouls is, that due to being mostly rotten flesh, and bones, they can't run very fast. Another thing people know is, that their decomposed brain make them very stupid.
Nick knew both of these things, so he walked up to the nearest ghoul, asked for the directions to the surface, and then high-tailed it out of there.
|# ¿ Nov 6, 2016 21:59|
|# ¿ Nov 8, 2016 08:36|
Major brain blockage here!
Flash me plz!
|# ¿ Nov 10, 2016 20:32|
In with T-Rex.
Also because of last weeks failure to deliver.
|# ¿ Nov 16, 2016 11:38|
Well, I'm DQ'd, but I'll post this before the toxx takes effect anyway. Sorry it's only half a story, but, eh.
A Quiet Day
Word count: 438
Ted's Gun Shop was never a quiet place. There was always some kind of noise, either from the chatter of the patrons, the gun fire from the range out back, or, on a slow day, the rocking tunes from the dust covered old radio in the corner.
Today it was quiet. There were no patrons that would chatter, no one shooting guns out back, and the radio had taken a stray bullet the day before and was silent as well.
Except for the heavy breathing from Ted behind the counter that is.
It was a slow day.
The door chime woke Ted up from his reverie, as little Timmy walked into the store.
"Hey there, Timmy boy," Ted greeted him. "What can I do for you?"
Timmy was a very adventurous boy, with lots of imagination, and he would show up at the town's different stores every time he gave his mom the slip.
"I need to buy a shotgun. Or a rocket launcher." Timmy replied.
"Whoa, that's some heavy artillery, son? What do you need it for?" Ted replied with a grin.
"I'm hunting the Tyrannosaurus Rex." Was the matter-of-factly answer.
"Oh? A T-Rex, eh?" Ted said. "Well, a rocket launcher would barely be enough for that. You should call in the military instead."
"They were here already. The Tyrannosaurus Rex ate them."
"Oh? Well, I don't have any rocket launchers in stock at the moment."
"That's why I asked for a shotgun as well. It will work if I hit it in the eyes."
"Well, true enough, but you'd have to wait until it tries to eat you. That would be very dangerous." Ted sighed. "I better call your dad and tell him you're here."
"You can't. The Tyrannosaurus Rex ate him." Timmy replied with a grim face.
"Well, now. That's a bit dark. Then how about your mommy?"
"The tyrannosaurus Rex ate her too."
"Well Timmy, that's going a bit far with this game of yours. You shouldn't be disrespectful to your parents like that."
Ted punched a few numbers on his phone and put it to his ear.
"Huh, that's strange. There's only static."
"Yeah, the Tyrannosaurus Rex knocked down the phone lines." Timmy said. "It will be here soon."
Ted rubbed the goose flesh on his arms as he tried to fight down the uneasy feeling that suddenly gripped him. Don't be silly, he thought. There's no such things as a T-Rex out there. Just a faulty line.
Suddenly, a great roar filled the town, and Ted, who wasn't the bravest person, fell to the ground in shock.
"He's here," Timmy said.
|# ¿ Nov 21, 2016 07:42|
All in with the 15th century.
|# ¿ Nov 22, 2016 12:41|
In with a
Let my viking blood sing forth and wrest a mediocre-ish story from my creative bosom!
|# ¿ Nov 30, 2016 21:45|
"When I came ere long the war troop bold
were watching and waking all:
with burning brands and torches borne
they showed me my sorrowful way."
The Ragged Man
The day the ragged man entered our town, we did not yet know our comfortable existence would soon be at an end. We had lived our lives off of those lesser than us, and we had fattened our wallets, and ourselves, on the hard toil and suffering of others.
Our town was the richest, most prosperous in our lands, and our economy fueled by export of precious metals and gems. We were a utopia in the eyes of our neighbors, with an image of clean streets and healthy children and well-mannered people.
This was all true, of course. We were healthier, better educated, and we had a rightful sense of superiority. We were simply better than the rest of the rabble that populated the world outside our gates.
Now, the source of our good favor was the mountain at which foot our town was situated. An outsider would have been amazed at the riches that were hauled from our mines daily. The gold, silver, diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones that came out by the cart load would have left them breathless. Watching this raw treasure be processed into rings, necklaces, goblets, and other immensly valuable items in our masterful workshops would have left them stupified. And then, of course, the fact that they were outsiders would have left them in chains, pulling a cart, or digging deep inside the mountain.
You see, our dark little secret, the true fuel of our economy, was the slaves that worked in our mines. Some were people that came seeking refuge from the wilderness outside. Others were people that were caught by our raiding parties that scoured the hinterland. Wherever they came from, they were never seen again.
We lived very comfortable lives, each adult only having to work a few days every month, either as slave guards, or in the trade depots, which were the only places in our town accessable to outsiders. We would trade for food and other goods that were necessary to sustain our rich lives with outside traders there. That was our only real contact with the outside world, unless you were part of the raiders.
Then one day, as the sun was setting beyond the hills outside our west gates, the ragged man appeared.
I had been lotted to work at the western trade depot, and me and my mates were sitting in the shade of the walls watching the traders unload the last of the food carts. It had been a hot day, and though the last rays of the day were shining through the open gates, the heat had not yet abated.
”hell of a heatwave,” Carl, one of my mates, said before taking a swig from the bag of crystal water. ”If those brutes won't hurry up with the unloading, I have a mind to haul them off to the mines myself.”
”Hey, exnay on that kind of talk now,” Roger, the foreman, said, taking the bag from Carl and glancing at the outsiders. ”We don't need rumors spreading.”
”No worries, Boss! They are too awed by our town to notice,” I said.
We watched the rest of the unloading in silence, and then, as Roger walked up to pay the merchants, we prepared the gates for closing. Suddenly, Carl gave off a shout, and pointed at the empty cart. Out of the back of the cart, where he had been hidden behind some barrels until now, a raggedy man descended.
The man was quickly surrounded by some of the guards, and the rest of us hurried to close our gates. The merchants started to complain, but soon got quiet as some of the guards rounded them up as well.
With the merchants and the strange man herded together by the guards, Roger stepped up. One of the merchants started shouting, but Roger gave him a hard slap that sent him to the ground.
”You,” he said, pointing at the downed merchant. ”Who gave you permission to bring an unauthorized person inside our walls?”
”We've never seen him before!” one of the other merchants shouted. ”He must have snuck on when we loaded the carts.”
”Be as it may,” Roger said. ”You brought him in, and now we have to deal with him.”
He turned to the ragged figure, but the third of the merchants suddenly piped up.
”So can we go? We did not know, and we have a long road ahead of us.”
Roger looked down at the groud, seemingly in thought. ”I think,” he started, ”that you will meet with an 'accident'. We need to explain your disappearances, and I think a pack of hinterbeasts, or maybe a raider attack, should be sufficient. Those usually won't leave any bodies to trace. Guards, take them to the slave holes.”
The merchants stood dumbfounded as they listened to roger, and something in his voice must have muted them because they did not even give a sound as they were herded away by the guards, through the throng of people that had started to gather in the trade depot.
”Now, our mysterious stranger,” Roger continued, as he stepped up to the man. ”Who are you, and why have you come here?”
At first, the man stood completely still, not reacting to Roger's question. Then he slowly lifted his head and met Rogers gaze. His voice suddenly boomed out, and as he spoke, he looked at each and every one of the crowd that had gathered.
”Your days of opulence are numbered! The Lords of the Lands and Skies have so decreed! They have sent forth their troops to free those oppressed, and to seize these lands that you strip in your greed! I am their herald! I am here, not to show you mercy, or a chance of redemption, but to give you time to wallow in despair! Soon they will come, with torches and flares to cleanse these lands of your stench! Those of you not struck down will be forever branded as the murdering filth you are! Years from now this town will only be remembered as a nightmare tale to frighten children! So have the Lords of the Lands and Skies decreed!”
We were stunned. Not just his outburst, but the command in his voice had us frozen where we stood, and noone moved a muscle to stop his proclamation. After he stopped, the silence was palpable amongst the crowd.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, a cry of rage slowly rose from the crowd, and it suddenly turned into a mob as it descended on the man as he stood in silence with his eyes closed. The people were furious, and the man was soon buried under the people as the hit and kicked over and over again.
The man did not utter a sound as he was brutaly ripped apart by the angry mob. And soon, as the people started to calm down, there were hardly a man left of him.
As the result of their actions dawned on the people, me included, as I had been just as vicious as the rest, the mob dispersed, with some cluching their stomachs, and other emptying theirs on the streets.
Such carnage had never before been seen in the history of our town!
As reason came back to us, we realised we had just dealt with a madman, and, though it had been needlessly brutal, we had been justified. As such, most of us paid no heed to the man's words, and we went back to our daily lives.
It was not long after, when the memory of our actions had started to fade, and we would joke about the craziness of his words, that the ragged man's prophecy came true.
From the earth itself came the first wave. A hellish army made of dirt and rocks, wielding massive torches that gushed with magma as they swung them at people and houses without abandon. The destruction was complete, and I was only saved from the initial carnage by hiding deep in a well with my family.
While the first wave was burning our people and our homes, a second wave of angel-like beings descended from the heavens. They were grabbing people and flying away with them, and I, too, was teken by one of these winged creatures.
My terror was complete, and I confess I do not remember much of what happened next, save for the intense pain as something was pressed against my forehead.
When I came to, I was lying in the ditch where you found me. The rest of my story, how I was dragged in front of your Magistrate, you already know. My life has been a sin, I know that now, and by the brand of a murderer on my forehead, I seek penance by your grace.
|# ¿ Dec 4, 2016 20:03|
|# ¿ Oct 19, 2021 11:38|
|# ¿ Dec 6, 2016 06:27|