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Sailor Viy
Aug 4, 2013

And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan's country, or shot over the edge of the world into some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise.

The Train Station at 10,000 A.M.
497 words

The conductor dozed at his post. The train station was cold concrete below, cold concrete above, lights few and far between. There were no trains scheduled for this shift; the chances of anything happening were minute.

He was the only conductor on duty at 10,000 A.M. There were two platforms, and his job was to manage transfers between them. To reach this distant hour, the trains had to hit midnight with enough velocity to fly off the dial completely. But it took far more energy to get to the city at Infinite Midnight, where the Achronal Empress ruled forever on her mercury throne. Thus, passengers needed to change trains here.

The conductor did what he could to keep occupied. He had his jumbo book of Sudoku puzzles, his radio, and his cat Suki, who he had found wandering the streets of the deep-sleeping city above. Every seventh shift, he received a letter from his niece who lived in the Leap Seconds.

There were much worse places to be. He could have been stationed at one of the Empire’s outposts in Day, where the lush heat slowly drove men mad. Or he could have been sent to one of the more unpleasant notionals, like Half Past Dead or Beer O’Clock.

Suddenly there came a rumbling in the tunnel. The conductor leapt to his feet. A second later, a train rocketed into the station, still steaming. It was flickering dangerously in and out of synchrony; the conductor quickly bolted on temporal clamps to make it stable. Touching the brass casing, he felt it was still warm to the touch. This train had come directly from Day.

The doors opened and two figures stepped out, masked in gold with Imperial blue uniforms. Horologers—the Empress’s elite time-explorers. The first one gave a curt salute and said:

“You have a weapons cache at this station?”

“Erm. Yes, I… yes. Right this way, sirs.”

The conductor unlocked the storeroom at the back of the platform. The Horologers went in and started pulling out crateloads of weapons: stasis grips, loop grenades, combat knives with picosecond blades (blink and you’d miss them). Meanwhile the conductor returned to his desk and checked the train’s registration against the schedule. This service was not due for another seven subjective months. And its point of origin was a place more legend than fact: Ultima Meridian. The Final Noon.

The Horologers had nearly finished emptying the weapons cache. The conductor went over to them.

“It’ll take me a while to prepare the shuttle to Infinite Midnight…”

“Not going to Midnight,” said the Horologer. “Going back.”

While his companion loaded the weapons onto the train, he reversed the signals so it would run dayward, back the way it had come.

“What? Why?” said the conductor. “At least tell me something I can put in my report…”

The Horologer loaded six slugs into his dialgun. “Noon’s haunted,” he said, and got back in the train.


Sailor Viy
Aug 4, 2013

And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan's country, or shot over the edge of the world into some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise.

that's a submission for gang brawl 2 in case it's not clear

Feb 13, 2006
Grimey Drawer
gently caress!

The sands in the hourglass have passed me by. Here’s prmpt:

Gangbrawl 3: Stare into the Monolith

Will it reveal wisdom for evolution or just stare silently back? Tell Me!

Sailor Viy
Aug 4, 2013

And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan's country, or shot over the edge of the world into some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise.

Sailor Viy posted:

that's a submission for gang brawl 2 in case it's not clear

bugger. I was like 1 minute too late. this still counts for the blood-o-meter though right?

Jan 20, 2012

Sailor Viy posted:

bugger. I was like 1 minute too late. this still counts for the blood-o-meter though right?

Sure does!

Jan 20, 2012


The Buried Megalith
500 words

Keith Olafsen was digging a trench for his new septic tank when he unearthed the monolith. Over the years, Keith had found a lot of things in the dirt: a buffalo head nickel, flint arrowheads, once he even found a fossilized leaf. This was his first monolith, though. It was early in the day, but Keith could already tell this one was gonna be a real headache.

First thing to do was get the thing uncovered. As he took up his shovel, he could hear the whine and crunch of a four-wheeler coming down the gravel path. He dug out another few inches of the monolith by the time Dean Larson's shaggy, bearded face appeared over the edge of the hole. "Whatcha got there, Keith?"

"Monolith," Keith said as he stuck the shovel in the dirt and leaned on the handle.

Dean scuttled down the side of the hole and joined him in pondering the massive stone. "Well, now, I'm never one to find joy in correcting someone, but those carvings make me think it might be more of a dolmen. Or maybe a stele? I get the two confused."

Dean had a thermos in his hand. Keith reached for it and Dean plopped the sickly green tube into his open hand. A quick sip confirmed that it was iced tea, unsweetened, refreshing in the growing heat of the day. Dean was always considerate enough to bring a cool drink, Keith thought, even if he can't keep his megaliths straight.

"What do you reckon you'll do about it?" Dean said as he walked around the stone. He placed a hand on the rock's surface, but pulled it away quickly when an abyssal rumbling welled up from somewhere beneath the dirt. "Nope, can't like that," Dean said to himself.

Keith wiped his neck with his handkerchief and shoveled more dirt out of the hole. "It can't stay here, for sure. I have enough trouble with the kids swiping apples and spooking the pigs, I don't need them pondering eldritch monuments in the night when a man is trying to sleep."

Dean nodded. "Yup. Sensible. I don't think I'd want it in my back yard either. I'll say this, it sure looks interesting. I bet you anything Martha woulda gotten a kick out of it."

Martha had her oddities before she passed, and in fact Keith had held on to a couple of her arcane tablets, just to keep a piece of Martha close. He hadn't believed in all that, but he'd gone with her to the ritual ceremony every Sunday nonetheless. A tear welled in his eye.

Dean was too polite to mention Keith's show of emotion. "Why don't you give me a call when you get it dug up, and I'll come on over with the tractor, we can haul it off to Magister Vexus's place?"

Keith nodded. "Yup. Have a good one, Dean." He went back to digging up the monolith. It wasn't gonna dig itself out, after all.

Jun 23, 2022

It's a puzzle.
Entry for Gangbrawl 3: Stare into the Monolith

The Gathering Place
373 words

Wilson hated his neighbor Cheryl and knew she was up to something stupid again. He looked out his front door to see her standing on his sidewalk. She was just standing there, staring at his house. She was wearing a Winnie the Pooh t-shirt, basketball shorts, and Crocs. Jesus Christ, Cheryl.

He grabbed his coffee, an elixir to steel himself from Cheryl’s inane babble. His mug was white with big black letters saying “Shuh-Duh-Fuh Cup”. Too bad Cheryl was too stupid to get the message.

He stepped out his front door and swung the storm door shut quickly so his cat Scabs wouldn’t dash to freedom. “Morning, Cheryl,” he grumbled.

Cheryl stared. She was looking up, at his roof maybe? No, a bit higher. “Whatcha lookin’ at, Cheryl?”

A single tear trickled down her cheek.

She was frozen in terrified wonder.

She was soaking wet. It had rained the night before. How long had she been standing there?

The smell of piss and poo poo wafted toward Wilson. She’d been there a while.

“Cheryl… Cheryl are you alright?” Wilson glanced down the street. He saw the guy from the blue house… what was his name? Greg? Probably Greg was out by his mailbox, standing and facing Wilson’s house. “Hey Greg, I need your phone! Cheryl needs help!”

Probably Greg was frozen in terrified wonder.

What the gently caress was happening? Wilson forgot he was holding his coffee and nearly dropped it. He panicked and set it randomly on the railing. He stepped off his porch and looked up the street. A few houses down he saw a jogger in very ugly leggings standing and staring toward his house.

The jogger in very ugly leggings was frozen in terrified wonder.

He looked without thinking, triangulating their gaze. He glanced back toward his house and it was… spectacular. Rising up from behind his house was a massive obsidian monolith. It gleamed in the sunlight, brilliant and electric. It held his gaze with a powerful gravity that vibrated throughout his very soul. The monolith knew him, and honored him. It chose this as The Gathering Place. Every soul was needed. It would take years, but all would come eventually. The monolith was patient.

Wilson was frozen in terrified wonder.

Dec 16, 2021

Gang Brawl 3

The Alien Warning
497 words

The group of socialites were bored. They had nothing to do and nowhere to go. So, they decided to go for a walk in the park. As they strolled through the park, they came across an alien monolith. They had never seen anything like it before. They didn't know what it was or what it did. But, one of the socialites decided to touch it. As soon as she touched it, she started to scream. Her body started to convulse and she foamed at the mouth. Then, her eyes popped out of her head and blood started pouring out of her ears. The other socialites stood there in horror, not knowing what to do. Then, one by one, they started to touch the monolith. The same thing happened to them. They all suffered the same gruesome fate.

The next day, the news spread like wildfire. People were talking about the aliens and their monolith. Some people were even saying that the monolith was a portal to another world. But no one knew for sure. All they knew was that if you touched it, you would die.

At the socialite's funeral, their families were mourning their loss. But, they were also angry. They wanted to know why the aliens had killed their loved ones. They wanted revenge.

To find the aliens, they hired the best detective in the city. He didn't believe in aliens. But, he took the case anyway.

The detective started to investigate and soon realized that the socialites weren't the only ones who had died. There had been other deaths too. All of them had one thing in common: they had all been in contact with the alien monolith.

The detective tracked down the aliens and confronted them. They admitted that they had killed the people. But, they said that it was necessary. The people of Earth were not ready for what was coming. They were not ready to face the truth.

The horrible truth that the aliens had kept secret was that there was a giant creature coming to Earth. A creature so big and so powerful that it would destroy the entire planet. The aliens were trying to warn the people of Earth, but they just wouldn't listen. So, the aliens took matters into their own hands and started killing people. They figured that if they could kill enough people, then maybe the rest of humanity would take notice and be scared into submission.

But, the detective wasn't going to let that happen. He was going to stop the aliens. He was going to save humanity.

The detective gathered all of the evidence and presented it to the authorities. They were shocked. They had no idea that such a thing was happening.

The aliens were caught and tried. They were found guilty and sentenced to death. As they were led to their execution chamber, they screamed that the Earth was doomed. That there was no hope. That humanity would perish.

Bad Seafood
Dec 10, 2010

If you must blink, do it now.
:siren: :siren: Week 520 Results :siren: :siren:

This week was a little middling, to be honest. A lot of the stories were a little awkward or muddled, not unlike someone might feel after having their secret revealed. But that's not how I feel about revealing our winner: My Shark Waifuu, whose tale of monster girl high school shenanigans both charmed and delighted. All three judges ranked it highly. Congratulations.

Following in the wake of that were three stories which, while not winners, did something right, and in a week where a lot of people mussed around the middle, I like to recognize stories that stood out. Tyrannosaurs, Thranguy, and Phantom Muzzles each get an HM. Don't spend it all in one place now.

Nobody DM'd this week, but it's a harsh mercy. None of the lower rung of stories were really memorable enough to earn the right. We do have a loser though, as we must. Tars Tarkas missed the mark in two major ways: no sympathetic characters, and not really funny enough to dress-up the obvious satire...which technically makes this kind of a screed.

Now get a bigger boat and don't forget the chum, cause it's Shark Waifuu's week...which means we say "PROMPT."

Something Else
Dec 27, 2004

to ride eternal, shiny and chrome


Weltlich posted:

Gangbrawl 3: Stare into the Monolith

The Stairs
495 words

As soon as I crested the last dune, I whooped with joy and started to charge down the final slope, my nylon hat flapping in my hand. The rest of my team and the robotic sherpa dogs that came up behind me shared my enthusiasm, but not my foolhardiness. By the time they caught up at the foot of the monolith, I had filled the first quarter of my fine leatherbound notebook with schemata.

"Look at the clouds," I shouted. "They go around it, just like on the orbital recon!"

"Great, Annie," Bill huffed as his backpack hit the sand. "Listen, there will be plenty of time to explore. Let's get the camp set–"

"No way," I interjected. "I'm at least going to find the door before nightfall."


"Yes, I imagine it's somewhere up those stairs." I pointed to the steps that curved around the base of the structure. Bill groaned.


I refused to take it slow. I would stop to take etchings or make a sketch, and then jog ahead of Bill and the two tromping robots that accompanied us. After 30 minutes we had found no door, and Bill wanted to turn back.

"Are we even halfway?" He pleaded.

In all honesty, I couldn't tell either. When I looked up the side of the monolith, it looked just as tall as it had at the base, and the stairs just kept appearing around its gentle curve.

After an hour it started to get dark, and we heard faint cries from below. Bill did turn back then, leaving me with the robots. In truth, my legs were burning, but I had now come far enough that turning back would seem like I accepted the insult that this place was trying to lay on me. I did not accept that. I turned on my flashlight and continued up.

I kept my left hand touching the cool stone wall. The carvings and signs of weathering etched onto it no longer interested me, as I had seen thousands, but I kept my notebook gripped in my right hand in case my left should find a sudden opening.

When the robot fell, I finally had to stop, sit down, and reconsider my choices. I had time to do all three before its digital wail finally punctuated in a distant impact on the ground. I decided it was time to come down. However, when I stood up, I guess my knees locked, because I briefly fell unconscious and smacked my head on the wall. I went in and out as the robot carried me down the stairs. The sun was rising when I awoke.

"My notebook?" I croaked.

"You must have left it on the stairs," said Bill. "Don't move, you need to rest."

"gently caress it," I said. "Call the evac."

"What? Annie–"

"There is no door. No mystery to be solved. This isn't a monolith. It's a joke, understand? A bad joke. And I'm the butt."

Dome Racer Alpha
Jun 9, 2021

"The self-assured leader whose swagger and aloofness makes them a very successful racer."

It’s the Truth
492 words

We walked out the church, me and my mama, and there was just this black slab towering in the middle of the parking lot. And she let go of my hand. Which was the first time I could ever remember her doing that while we was walking cuz I was real small, knee high to a grasshopper as they say.

She was good Christian woman, mama was, but as soon as her pretty brown eyes laid upon yon monolith it was like she’d been touched by an unholy spirit. She left me. Just headed straight for the strange piece of metallic rock. I was so confused I didn’t say nothing. I didn’t move neither. Which made me one of the few. One by one, adults from the congregation filed passed me like they was going to take the communion. One by one, they joined mama and got down on their knees and raised their arms and started shaking their hands and bodies. One by one, they joined in a terribly frightful howl, an animal-sound, a terror-song, like a hunting dog that’s stepped in it’s master’s trap. And I swear on the Holy Ghost that they started rising up right off the ground. Not standing up. But floating! Higher and higher till I couldn’t reach ‘em even if I tried!

I started crying. I screamed, “Mama! Mama!” My cries joined the voices of the other children cuz we was the only ones unaffected.

Mama didn’t so much as turn her head. None of the adults did. They just kept up that terrible howl. Mouths gaping. Tongues wagging. And in that moment, I knew two things: the devil was real and he was here in.

And that might have been it, you know? Not just for Mama and the church folk but for the whole world. That might have been the end of the drat world. Except it wasn’t. Through all that ghastly, abhorrent devil chanting there was the screeching of tires.

And everything exploded.

I was knocked to the ground, ears a-ringing. I coughed and waved dust from my eyes. As the smoke cleared, I saw a racecar in front of me! Bits of black stone lay shattered all around it and laying amongst the rubble was mama and the church folk. The car door opened and out stepped the driver.

I gasped. “P.P. Weiner!”

“That’s right, it’s me,” P.P., the world's most famous racecar driver, said. “But I can sign autographs later. Is anyone hurt?”

No one was, thank Jesus. Not physically. Spiritually, though, I think we was all a little shaken. Fortunately, that P.P., well, he’s just as darn charming as he seems on the TV. He was helping people stand up and shaking hands and telling jokes and I think everyone just kinda agreed never to talk about what happened.

But I know it’s the truth.

Dome Racer Sigma
Jun 9, 2021

"The Lone Wolf racer. Defies expectations."

The struggle itself ... is enough to fill a man's heart.
500 words

It all started with the high school guidance counselor, who wore a funny hat and liked to make us take personality tests with questions like “Would you rather go to the opera or build a bird house?” and somehow “neither” is never available as an option. I chose the birdhouse. Maybe that was why this happened to me?

“Wow, Corrinne, type IMB,” he said. “That’s the rarest type.”

“So what does that mean? I’m going to be an architect? mad scientist?” Those things sounded cool at the time.

“Of course not!” he said. “You’re an Insane Monolith Builder.”

“How much did Tiffany pay you to say this?” I demanded. “And aren’t these things supposed to have four letters, and like…a J or something?”

“Fine: Insane Monolith Builder, Jeeeeeeze,” he said. “And Tiffany can’t afford my rates.”

“I would literally rather die than go insane and build monoliths” I said, meaning it figuratively. “Unless it pays well?”

“You teenagers are so shortsighted,” said the guidance counselor, shaking his head sadly and folding in on himself to form a point of blackness so dark that hurt to look at, which shattered into a million pieces and blew away in a wind I couldn’t feel.
“Well, that can’t be good,” I said to the empty room.


So my last thought before I died was “at least I didn’t end up building monoliths….”

Just kidding, I died too suddenly for that. But my first thoughts AFTER I died were something along those lines. Thanks mom and dad for selling my soul to Tesla’s AI (afterlife intelligence haha) program. Having your soul shoved into a Repair Bot is not something I would recommend, but I clung to one thing: not building monoliths.

Just…repairing them. It’s different. Even if the monolith has been broken down into each of its component bricks, so I could repair it in the backyard of an rear end in a top hat billionaire.

“Wow,” said Tiffany gazing at the stunning column in front of us. “It really is something.”

“Mmhmm,” I said. I felt…unsatisfied.

Tiffany looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “Now what are you going to do?”

I just stared at the amazing thing I had repaired.

“If you’re bored,” she said, “I know this guy….”

“I’m twenty feet tall and made of steel” I said.

“Not that kind of guy,” she said. “Look, do you trust me?”

“Not at all.”

“Do you have anything better to do?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just waved her arm.

Everything exploded.

When the dust settled, a race car sat in the middle of a pile of bricks.

“P.P. Weiner!” Tiffany shouted triumphantly.

“You have to be loving kidding me,” I said. Then: “This is going to take days to repair!”

P.P. Weiner made finger guns at me. “How many days?”

“I dunno, like six, probably?”

“Sooooo….I’ll see you next week?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Definitely.”

Sep 21, 2017

Horse Facts

True and Interesting Facts about Horse

These are my immediate thoughts after reading your bad words.

The World's Most Gigantic Diamond

I liked this right up to the ending, which fell flat. I wanted to see this escalate into more and more insane attempts to tell someone, so turning to confessional as a solution felt… dull.

The story could have been improved I think by giving us more insight into why he stole the diamond, to give the protagonist a bit more character.


Elm Street South of Houston

“just outside the door, at the door” is very awkward phrasing.

I got a little confused at the start of this about who was who, but I got it on a second read. The interaction between these three is fine, but they’re all quite forgettable. Bryan in particular does basically nothing. I think this would have been more interesting if George was more motivated to divulge his secret, so we could see him struggle with whether or not to share his burden, and the others’ efforts to try and stop him.


Lake Mead

I think this is good, but I think the protagonist should have been Sophia, not Martina. My interpretation of this story is that Samual was beating Sophia, so she killed him, and now she and her best friend are involved in hijinks trying to get rid of the body. The note of satisfaction at the end belongs to Sophia, but all the action in the story has been done by Martina, which robbed it of its punch.



I thought an Americano was a sort of watery espresso? Anyway, my lack of coffee knowledge aside, I thought this was ok, but I didn’t really get it. Is everyone actually dead or is he just hallucinating or something? Just backing away from the only other living person does not an interesting ending maketh.


Official Secrets

I think this has potential, but it’s a bit all over the place. I wasn’t really sure what your protagonist was wrestling with until the end, and the unexpected arrival of the friend sort of just hands the protagonist a solution on a plate, which isn’t as interesting as seeing her reach a decision for herself.


Beatrix’s Cottage For Weary Travellers

This isn’t bad. It’s quite sweet, and the pacing, dialogue and descriptions are all good. The fact that the elves might come to take Tulip back should have been foreshadowed earlier. It’s only about half way through the story that we get any sense that anything is amiss with Beatrix’s life, which means you wasted a lot of words fluffing about before getting to the start of the story.



Hmmm, this story is good, but it has a similar problem to Lake Mead, in that the person who the story is really about - the real Danno - is off camera for most of it. Or maybe the story is actually about the other marines, but they’re not the center of attention either. Fake Danno is just being a good brother and general nice, sensible adult, which isn’t as interesting as the stuff that’s going on for the others.


Best Man

I read all of these in judge mode except this one, which I’d already read in the thread. I definitely think this is your best story so far, by quite a long way. We have a clear protagonist (Luke), who has some personality (he can be an rear end to cheer up his friend), he faces an important dilemma (whether or not to confess his feelings to Heather), and resolves it through his own action (singing a song instead), and the ending is sweet. Hooray! The story is still clunky and VERY tropey, but I cannot emphasise enough how much better a story is for having a protagonist who seems like an actual person with a clear and relatable goal.


Too late

I’m not sure I totally followed what was happening in this story, but the repetition of “too late” annoyed me, so I don’t want to go back and read it again to try and work it out.

You had some interesting things here - Marina has a lot of poo poo going on, and I wanted to know more about how the protagonist felt about her. I wanted to know more about the protagonist full stop. Weirdly, like Danno and Lake Mead (what is up with this week), your protagonist wasn’t the person to whom the plot should have happened. This should have been the story of Marina’s downfall, and your nameless protagonist kind of just got in the way.


Gourdian Not

I don’t really get this. It’s not clear to me what Kentik was after when he first approached the Priestess, so I don’t know whether getting drunk and passing out what a good outcome for him or just a dumb thing he did?



I assume this is a metaphor for the difficulties of interacting with other people who one finds difficult, but it also works weirdly well as a story about a starfish piloting a human body. Poor little bugger, just wants to go back to the sea.



Ok so the GoFundUs company in your story is very evil and three of the four characters end up dead, and nothing actually happens.


Messy Bitch

Lol. This was silly but I liked the manic teenage energy of the ending. I think it need to be more manic, with the emotional rollercoaster knobs all set to maximum, as befits school prom night.


Brass Tax

That ending is a total cop out, I wanted to know what happened. The rest of the story has a lot of wasted words basically saying the same thing over and over; you could easily have cut this down and put a proper ending on.


My Shark Waifuu
Dec 9, 2012

Week 521: Sports Day

Gosh, it's been nearly 10 years of sitting at a desk, scribbling out words? Time to go get some exercise, you nerds!

This week I want some stories about sports! Any sport is fine, from football to ulama, curling to chessboxing, darts to dressage ... you get the idea. You can even make up a sport if you don't like any that humanity has already invented. Flash rules are available on request.

Any genre is allowed. Your sport doesn't have to be the central conflict but it does have to feature a bit more than just "Grizwald the Arcane played squash on the weekends, now here's a story about wizards." Also, if all your stories are about plucky underdogs, I will be displeased.

Erotica, fanfic, the usual, are all out of bounds.

Word count: 1,500

Signups close Friday, 29 July at 11:59 PM PST
Submissions due Sunday, 31 July at 11:59 PM PST

My Shark Waifuu

Team Roster:
Thranguy - cornhole
Sitting Here
MockingQuantum - kendo
Lily Catts
Something Else
Chernobyl Princess
Sailor Viy
Bad Seafood - dog surfing
a friendly penguin
Uranium Phoenix
Screaming Idiot - sepak takraw
hard counter
The Cut of Your Jib

My Shark Waifuu fucked around with this message at 23:01 on Jul 30, 2022

Apr 21, 2010

Deceitful and black-hearted, perhaps we are. But we would never go against the Code. Well, perhaps for good reasons. But mostly never.
In, flash

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007
In for the blood and the decade unwritten

Mar 19, 2008

Look, if you had one shot
or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted
in one moment
Would you capture it...
or just let it slip?


Put me in, coach!

Jun 23, 2022

It's a puzzle.
In please and thank you

Dec 15, 2006

b l o o p


176 words







Sep 21, 2017

Horse Facts

True and Interesting Facts about Horse


500 words

"What even is a monolith?" said Briar, once Nathan had finished his monologue.

He snapped shut the leather-bound book he'd been reading from. Briar thought he looked like a dork in the long cloak he was wearing, but she didn't say anything because she wanted him to like her.

"So, do you get it?" said Nathan. "The monolith is the answer to everything! All this bullshit, school, our loving non-existent future, Mr. loving Edwards…"

Briar dragged the toe of her Sketchers back and forth through the damp leaves that covered the little clearing at the center of the park. She didn't really think the future didn’t exist, but Mr. Edwards was a dick. Plus she really liked Nathan.

"Yeah! So we just, stare at it?"

"Into it. You've got to really feel the pull, let it pull you all the way into the next dimension!"

Briar shivered. She'd nearly died of excitement when she'd gotten Nathan's text asking if she wanted to meet at the park that night, but this was getting kind of weird, and she had hockey practice in the morning.

She took a deep breath. gently caress it, she thought. I'm going all in.

"I'm cold," she said. Briar rubbed her arms for added effect.

"Here," said Nathan. He swung his cloak around her shoulders, then put one arm around her and hugged her to his side.


Then Nathan turned, pulling Briar with him, so they were both facing the weird old lump of black stone that had sat in the middle of their local park since forever ago. Briar had to admit it did look kind of different at night. Blacker, somehow, and more glowy.


Briar sighed and shucked her way out from under his arm. Enough was enough.

"Look, Nathan, I--"

She stopped. Nathan was staring into the monolith. Streaks of blue energy streamed from his eyes as the very essence of his being began to fragment. A cold wind whipped the fallen leaves around Briar’s legs and she heard a terrible howling.

“I like you!” She had to scream to make herself heard. “WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME?”

Nathan’s eyes snapped away from the monolith, but his dissolution continued, red and white from the adidas t-shirt he wore under his cloak making bright streaks that disappeared into the monolith’s core.

She saw his eyes go wide and his mouth open. “YE--” she heard, and then with a whoosh of air like someone slamming a door shut Nathan disappeared into another dimension.

The clearing went totally silent. Briar hugged Nathan’s cloak tight around her shoulders. Her boyfriend’s cloak, she realised. Night sounds crept back into the park. The rustle of leaves. The sound of tires passing on the street behind the row of trees. The buzz of the phone in Briar’s pocket.

SO????? the message from Kristy read.

Briar grinned.

Feb 13, 2006
Grimey Drawer
For capturing in story form the unique drudgery of digging a hole in the ground, MockingQuantum wins round three of GangBrawl!

Jan 20, 2012

poo poo.

Gang Brawl 4

Your prompt is: Goat Army

500 words max.

Due 11:59PM GMT, July 27th, a little less than twelve hours from this post. Sorry, you all lose an hour and a half because I sleep until a sane hour of the morning.

Go go go!

MockingQuantum fucked around with this message at 15:43 on Jul 27, 2022

Dec 15, 2021


Tars Tarkas
Apr 13, 2003

Rock the Mok

A nasty woman, I think you should try is, Jess.

Goat Army Gangfight entry

Greatest Of All Trojans
363 words

The guards watched in disbelief as the giant wooden goat was wheeled to the front of the fortress. The workers knocked on the gate lightly than ran back into the moonlight night. The Captain rolled his eyes, "The goat is full of soldiers, let's just go kill them." He picked a squad and opened the gates, creeping towards the statue. From inside, it sounded as if there was screaming going on. Whoever was packed inside was not having a good time.

The Captain tapped the pretty obvious door with his spear, and it fell forward into a ramp. Instead of human soldiers inside, a herd of goats burst forward, bleating and screaming. They started running everywhere as the soldiers just stared.

"Why would they give us a bunch of goats?" asked one guard.

"I don't know. Just round them all up, we can have goat stew tonight," the Captain replied. A chorus of cheers went up as the soldiers chased after the goats and began to drag them back inside the fortress. It was near dawn, the full moon was setting, and the cook was setting up the pots as the goats were herded in.

"Cut their necks and hang them up here!" the cook ordered.

"Uh, Cookie, this goat's neck won't stay cut!" exclaimed one of the guards.

"What in tarnation?" grumbled the cook. The latest draft had gotten troops even more useless than usual. "Let me see that. You see the proper way is to do it like this!" He gripped the goat's head and cut the throat. Blood spurted out, but then suddenly stopped. The neck was fully healed.

"WHAT IN TARNATION?" Cookie yelled.

The goat grabbed the knife. Its arms were human arms, its legs were human lets, and its head morphed into a human head.

"Thanks!" was all the man said before the stabbing spree began.

"They're were-goats!" the Captain yelled. By then it was too late, the outpost was overrun. A were-goat soldier lowered its flag and raised the army standard.

An advisor put down his spyglass. "My Lord, it worked again!" Lord William smiled, and ordered the army to wheel the goat to the next fortress.

My Shark Waifuu
Dec 9, 2012

Thranguy posted:

In, flash

Your sport is cornhole!

Jan 20, 2007


The Battle of Highway 17
390 words

Highway 17 had sat in disrepair for many years, the brush-lined and cracking pavement neglected by poor risk assessment. The local government insisted all was well. But Breanna knew: fire was coming.

She was a clever woman, given to novel solutions. Fire had powerful allies in the winds and heat of the summer and few foes that could oppose it once it started to wage its campaign against the countryside. Retaliation was a fool’s game, and so Breanna decided to strike first.

Under cover of community centres, grocery stores, and barns she met covertly with her neighbours. Highway 17 wrapped right around town, and could be an excellent firebreak protecting them on all but their East flank—if they could claim it as their own. They spoke in hushed tones about target grazing. She rounded up every recruit in the area, every one fit and eager to serve, and one early summer morning they set out to wage their war.

The goats descended hungrily on their prey. Hairy vetch, horseweed, and giant ragweed fell before them in a horrible cacophony—munch munch munch. Uneven terrain and tight thickets of poison oak failed to stop their advance. When their energy flagged, Breanna and the rest of her company urged them onwards with inspiring promises of grainy rewards to come.

As they entered the last stretch of enemy territory, they faced their toughest foe yet: blackberries. Thick, thorny, and invasive, blackberry vines grew in dense mounds that crowded out friendlier plants. Their sweet fruit belied their nefarious nature as the stalwart ally of flame.

A murmur passed through the assembled crowd, and their resolve wavered. What about jams, and jellies, and compotes? But Breanna stood firm: the vines must go. No compote is worth loss of livestock and livelihood.

The order given, the goats pressed onward, munching and tearing and chewing. The sun rose high in the sky and the earth baked underneath it. Dirt crumbled under hoof and boot. Dust rose around them ominously.

Then, with a final determined tug and a decisive bleat, the last root was extracted from the dry soil.

A great cheer went up and Breanna raised her fist triumphantly. The last bastion had fallen—the blackberry vines were vanquished at last. When fire came to Highway 17 that summer it would find no allies remaining.

Jan 20, 2012

gently caress it, I'm in. Sports flash me, Shark Waifuu!

Jun 23, 2022

It's a puzzle.
Gang Brawl: Goat Army

413 words
Jeff Probst: Next Season on Survivor…

Fourteen returning survivors come back to face the island again in Season 74. We’ve had Heroes and Villains. We’ve had Fans and Favorites. We’ve consistently brought back the most cunning, most engaging, most likeable players season after season. Now, we’re trying something different.

Every season the power players on Survivor make it to the end using their main asset: their boring, unlikeable alliances who they drag to the end because they know they can beat them. Well now is a second chance at a million dollars for one of those useless allies.

Returning this season we have:
-Matthew from Survivor Amazon. You may remember Matthew as the super intense guy that made everyone uncomfortable in a sort of abstract way. Well, he’s back.
-Will, who was designated the smelliest Survivor ever.
-Dreamz, who accepted a truck from the most likeable person in the game and then voted him out. Somehow he thought he’d still get jury votes after that.
-Monica Culpepper, whose husband sucked so much on Blood vs. Water that it made her suckier by association.
-Natalie T. Remember her? We don’t really either. Which makes her perfect for this season.
-Gervase, who waited 20 years to come back for Blood vs. Water, only to get his niece voted off because he was a bit of a jerkbag.
-Kass from Blood vs. Brains vs. Beauty. She was on the Brains Tribe but absolutely proved otherwise.
-Sugar, the pinup model. This is her third time appearing on Survivor, so maybe she’ll actually do something this time.
-Lillian, who first appeared on Survivor: Outcasts. Lillian was voted out and fought her way back into the game as an Outcast. Then she just kind of whined a bunch and was voted out again.
-Albert, who we can’t really remember other than he was vaguely a fart on legs.
-Michael Skupin- oh wait just kidding he’s definitely not coming back again…
-Sherri, the incredibly unlikeable and privileged player who somehow still thinks she stood a chance in this game.
-Special Agent Phillip, who is just like WOW.
-And last but definitely least we have Russell, an incredibly strategic player who will never get a single jury vote ever because of everything about him.

Can these thirteen returning players come back and redeem themselves for their incredible, massive, humiliating past failures? Will they prove once again to be an embarrassment to their families? Find out next season on…


My Shark Waifuu
Dec 9, 2012

MockingQuantum posted:

gently caress it, I'm in. Sports flash me, Shark Waifuu!

Your sport is kendo!

Jan 20, 2012


It was a small but fierce showing of goatly endeavors, but after some deliberation, the win goes to kaom!

Alas, with the posting of this week's prompt, the brief torch of the gang brawls has burnt itself out. Well done to everyone who took part in our rapid-fire writing shenanigans. Your contributions were impressive, and our four rounds of stories have filled the Blood-o-Meter nearly to the brim. We need only 6 MORE STORIES to meet our goal!

But, that said... do we want to simply meet our goal? Do we wish to limply surpass our goal by a story or two? Are we not THUNDERDOME?

Show your spirit! Join week 521 and barf your wordcrimes for the glory of the 'Dome! One of our brave contestants this week will be the ~First Judge of the New Decade~ and will forever be able to lord that fact over all other competitors.


Lily Catts
Oct 17, 2012

Show me the way to you
(Heavy Metal)
I'm in for sports

Something Else
Dec 27, 2004

to ride eternal, shiny and chrome

I am in

Dec 30, 2011

I wanna sing one for the cars
That are right now headed silent down the highway
And it's dark and there is nobody driving And something has got to give


Chernobyl Princess
Jul 31, 2009

It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.

:siren:thunderdome winner:siren:

in for sports

Sailor Viy
Aug 4, 2013

And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan's country, or shot over the edge of the world into some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise.

in for sports

Bad Seafood
Dec 10, 2010

If you must blink, do it now.
Put me in coach, and flash me while you're at it.

My Shark Waifuu
Dec 9, 2012

Bad Seafood posted:

Put me in coach, and flash me while you're at it.

Your sport is dog surfing!

Dec 16, 2021


Feb 13, 2006
Grimey Drawer
In for sports


Jan 20, 2007


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