tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43504576109588820222024-03-05T11:05:55.831-08:00Mireles musingsKristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-42113961598486071722017-01-19T23:45:00.000-08:002018-12-28T16:15:02.246-08:00In Space, They Actually Do Hear You Scream This week's Flash Fiction Challenge is about <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2017/01/13/flash-fiction-challenge-something-that-scares-you/">fears</a>. I had a lot of fears as a child, and there are some I've never overcome. I decided to combine them all in the following story. Please do enjoy.<br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-36c869ad-7fff-f02a-47ce-a3b9dea40d45" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">In Space, They Actually Do Hear You Scream</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></b></div>
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"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the First Annual Ultra-Extreme Mars Mud Race! I'm Terry Marks, and this is Brad Coolings, and we'll be your hosts for this historic, one-of-a-kind event!<br />
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"Today marks the first time an extreme obstacle course race will take place on Mars," Terry continued.
"It has taken many decades to perfect the technology that would allow this event to happen." <br />
<br />
Brad chimed in.
"And let's not forget the generous contributions of Martin Berkowitz, President and CEO of Ultra-Extreme Obstacle Race. Berkowitz joined forces with NASA to bring his dream to life! A dedicated team of top-notch scientists worked ‘round the clock to make this possible." <br />
<br />
The screen was splayed with high-tech graphics, segwaying to the event’s contestants.
"And now, let's meet the super-elite athletes who are the lucky pioneers in this groundbreaking event! <br />
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"First, we have Luke Jarrett from Atlanta, Georgia, USA. He is a pedigree of amazing athletes and OCR competitors, going back four generations! And here is Tracy Bemis, of Glasgow, Scotland, who spent her childhood competing in Tennis, Olympic Weight Lifting, and Cross-Country racing."<br />
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The contestants’ faces moved across the screen in time with their introductions.
"Next is Stone Parsotan of New South Wales, Australia. He is quite the specimen. This young man has won many Olympic gold medals in Track and Field, and is now ready for the Ultimate Challenge," Brad exclaimed."<br />
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And, last but certainly not least, is Mira MacDonald of Cape Town, South Africa. She grew up in several different countries, being the daughter of two military parents, and had many opportunities to participate in a variety of sports from different cultures and climates! <br />
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"And here we are, at the much-anticipated starting line for this historic event! I don’t know about you, Terry, but I’ve been brimming with anticipation for the past week!" <br />
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“Oh, I hear ya, Brad,” Terry answered. “This is going to be the single greatest moment of my career ...” <br />
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“For both of us,” Brad added. “And speaking of greatest moments, let’s go to the starting line, where the runners are about to take off.
The sound of gunshot launched the runners from their starting line in the underground caverns. Cameras seamlessly switched from one angle to another, keeping pace with the runners. <br />
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"Race footage, provided by flying drones which are controlled by artificial intelligence, will show each runner as they make their way through this event’s amazing combination of man-made and natural obstacles." <br />
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So far, so good. Martin couldn't have been more thrilled. He turned to his workers at command central. Popping the cork from yet another champagne bottle, he smiled up to his team as bubbles erupted. But there were no oohs and ahhs. Only wide eyes, dropped jaws. Something was off. <br />
<br />
He turned around quickly to see what had spurred such an upset. On screen, the horror slowly unfolded before their eyes. <br />
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The rear-view camera’s night vision showed hundreds of spiders pursuing the runners. They blanketed the walls of the cavern, traveling rapidly toward the trespassers that violated their territory.<br />
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"Sam, I thought you said there were no lifeforms there," Martin called out. <br />
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Sam hurried to the front. "Yes," he answered. "There were no signs of life at that level. There couldn't have been ... unless ..." <br />
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"Unless what?" <br />
<br />
"Unless the construction team drilled beyond that strata. I told them specifically not to, sir." <br />
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The rest of the room fell silent as the department heads all gathered to discuss what was happening. The construction supervisor stepped forward as Sam glowered at him. <br />
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"Chuck, did you drill further down?" <br />
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"We needed more water for the obstacles!" <br />
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"You needed more water, so you made unauthorized holes deeper into a planet that we are just beginning to study?" <br />
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"Well, at least we know there's life in outer space. Let's just hope they're more afraid of us than we are of them."<br />
<br />
Nobody was in the mood for Chuck’s humor. He often made lame attempts at jokes, but lightening the mood wasn’t exactly possible at this point. <br />
<br />
Focused on traversing the obstacles and miles ahead of them, the possibility of unwelcome creatures was the last thing on the runners’ minds. While the others sought out the next rest station, Tracy took off toward the next obstacle.
She sprinted further out as the others lagged behind.<br />
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Stone had fallen and sprained his ankle, slowing him down considerably. Mira and Luke helped him along, each offering a shoulder for support. Suddenly, they heard a woman screaming. <br />
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"Wait here," Luke said to the other two as he helped Stone lean against a wall. He ran toward the sound, accompanied by a flying drone. <br />
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"Heeellllpppp! Help me! Get away from me! Noooo!" <br />
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Tracy's shrill screams echoed throughout the cavern, beckoning for someone to rescue her. Martin and his crew watched as the drone camera flew slightly ahead of Luke, lighting the way and recording the surroundings. <br />
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Luke didn't notice the hundreds of tiny spiders that surrounded him. When he finally arrived where Tracy was, he realized it was too late. Tracy's body draped lifelessly, a giant, bloody hole where her face was. Yet still, her voice kept asking for help, pleading for someone to rescue her. <br />
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"Help me! Please!" <br />
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Luke then realized the source of the voice. Two spider-like creatures, each roughly the size of a small dog, were looking up at him. Their eyes studied him curiously. <br />
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"Help me! Please!" <br />
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Luke stared in shock as he asked them a question.
"What ... are you?" <br />
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The spiders looked at him curiously and repeated the phrase. "What ... are you?" They uttered their deadly mockery, with no apparent understanding of what they were saying. <br />
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Luke wasn't going to stick around for an answer. He backed away slowly, looking for a quick escape. As he turned around, tiny spiders crawled up his legs. He kicked and stomped, trying to fight them off. This only made them angrier. <br />
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They started biting him, latching on with their fangs, boring into his skin. <br />
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"Remove the live feed from this camera," Martin shouted as he and his crew watched in shock. "Keep recording, we'll need this for our files, but don't let this get out!" <br />
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The producers did as they were told, shaking and crying as they watched Luke being eaten alive.
They sent a message through the drones to Mira and Stone. <br />
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"Keep moving. Follow us. Don't lag behind." <br />
<br />
Stone and Mira followed the drones as they led them through the tunnels. They hurried to complete the race. <br />
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Finally, the two were within 600 feet of the end. They picked up their speed, not noticing the ground starting to cave in beneath them. <br />
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"Who authorized this obstacle," Martin demanded as he watched Stone and Mira struggle to keep from sliding down into the pit. "I never saw this in the race plans!" <br />
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Complete silence. The engineers all looked at each other, confused. <br />
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"No one, sir," a brave soul replied. "We tested the grounds for safety." <br />
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"Then how the hell did this happen?" <br />
<br />
Again, complete silence. <br />
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Stone could barely keep his grip on the cliff. He fought to keep from falling. Mira, being much lighter, was able to climb back up. She tried to pull Stone up, but he had nothing to hold on to. <br />
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Finally, gravity took its toll, and he slid to the bottom of the abyss. It was too dark to see.
A drone followed him down, lighting the way as he finally found the bottom. <br />
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"Can you climb back up?"
No response.
"Stone?" <br />
<br />
A sharp silence fell over the control room as the drone's beam revealed what Mira could not make out.
Martin grabbed the nearest microphone. <br />
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"Mira," he yelled through the drone's speaker. A bizarre echo came from the darkness.
"Mira, you have to get out of there. Get to the finish, and we'll get you home as soon as possible. Don't worry about Stone. We've got him." <br />
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That was all she needed to hear. Mira backed up a few feet, then ran at full speed. Being a long jump champion, she had no trouble leaping over the hole.
The finish line was just a foot away. <br />
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She started toward it, when a terrifying spider the size of a large cat leapt in front of her. She gasped, backing away, trying to calculate the best way around it. There was none. <br />
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Without warning, it leapt on to her, biting her neck as she tried to fight it off. <br />
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Screams erupted from the control room as they bore witness to the gruesome sight. The crew watched Mira throw the spider off, only to lose her balance. She stumbled over the cliff and fell. <br />
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Her drone followed her down, capturing every horrified expression as she screamed in sheer panic. She finally landed in mud, soft and deep enough to break her fall. <br />
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"Don't worry about Stone. We've got him."
That phrase kept repeating, over and over. She wondered if the drone was shorting out.
Mira turned toward her teammate's drone to see if it would help her find him. <br />
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Stone's body was floating unconscious as the drone hovered overhead.
Mira called his name. No response. She shook his body. Nothing. Finally, she started yelling. Still, no response. <i> </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> Shit</i>. She barely had time to catch her breath as her body shuddered.<br />
<br />
Stone remained unresponsive. She was about to resuscitate him. Just as she was about to cover his mouth with her own, she felt something coming out of it.
She pulled back to see a smaller version of the monstrous spider that bit her at the finish line. <br />
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She jumped back, screaming.
Suddenly, she heard her own scream echoing back to her. Mira looked around, panting with fear, when the cave started spinning. She began sweating. <br />
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Drool spilled out from her gaping mouth.
She couldn't move. All she could do was watch, and listen. <br />
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The engineers turned on the drones' manual controls to fly closer and see what was in that cave. It didn't take long to unveil the ultimate horror.
From the depths of the tunnels, it emerged. <br />
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Fully erect, it stood over six feet tall on its eight legs, all ending in sharp, jagged claws.
A pair of serrated fangs, the size of elephant tusks, opened to draw Mira's head toward its mouth. Sedated from the venom administered in the bite she received, she was unable to fight, to scream, to think. <br />
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A sharp burst of clarity finally hit her as she found her head inside its mouth. In a final cry of desperation, she screamed for help. A host of spiders mimicked her. The drones flew around, trying to distract the king spider, to no avail. <br />
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Mira's cries were soon muffled as the drones' highly sensitive microphones picked up the sound of her head crunching from the weight of the spider's mandible.
In the control room, engineers and safety experts were either vomiting or passing out. This was the greatest horror any of them had ever witnessed. <br />
<br />
Martin and his assistant, Stuart, looked at each other with equal parts shock and sadness. <br />
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"You know what this means, right Stuart?" <br />
<br />
"Yes," the assistant replied. "There go our sponsorships."<br />
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Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-19210743894412631432016-08-28T15:30:00.000-07:002016-08-28T15:30:02.948-07:00Procrastination Will Inherit the Earth This week's Flash Fiction Challenge is <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2016/08/26/flash-fiction-challenge-behold-the-idiomatic/">Behold The Idiomatic!</a> All I can say is, where has <a href="http://theidiomatic.com/">this website</a> been all my (online) life? This is <i>amazing! </i>If your actions tell who you really are, then I'm the UNIVERSAL GRAND FUCKING CHAMPION OF PROCRASTINATION! *Raises a glass to toast no one in particular.*<br />
Anywho, here's my contribution to the world of creative literature:<br />
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<b><u>Procrastination Will Inherit the Earth -- That Is, Whatever's Left of It</u></b></div>
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Leslie hit the alarm clock for what must have been the fifteenth time that day.<br />
"Ugh!"<br />
With one swift move, she pulled the covers over her head, blocking out the sinister sunshine that penetrated into her room, piercing her eyes with its mirthfully sadistic beams. <i> Just a few more blissful minutes of rest.</i><br />
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!<br />
"Fuhuhuck! I fucking heard you the first time," she whined, batting at the nagging alarm clock. Whoever decided the general public needed to work between the hours of 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. was a sick, twisted fuck.<br />
Leslie groaned as she rolled out of bed, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. As she weaved back and forth under the shower head, last night's one too many<i> </i>cocktails exacting its revenge with agonizing pressure inside her head, she realized she still had a personal day she could use.<br />
<i>Fuck it,</i> she thought, <i>I'm calling in.</i><br />
After she dried off, savoring the thought of crawling back into her warm, cozy bed and going back to sleep, a deep sense of satisfaction enveloped her like a cocoon. Leslie was not leaving the house. Not today.<br />
She picked up the phone with a barely controllable glee, and dialed the human resources extension. No one picked up. This day could not possibly get better. <br />
"Hi, this is Leslie. I'm taking a personal day today. I'll be back tomorrow."<br />
And with that, she hung up and set her phone to silent. So fucking easy.<br />
This was going to be a wonderful day. No bullshit office politics. No micromanaging middle management to hover over her cubicle. No unconscionable assholes stealing her yogurt from the fridge.<br />
The bed called to her. Its fluffy comforter, memory foam pillows, and lavender-scented sheets were so inviting. She found her eye mask, hastily tossed to the floor in her drunken clumsiness from the night before, and slid it over her eyes as she wrapped herself up in her comfy surroundings.<br />
Four hours later, Leslie stretched and yawned. It was midmorning, and there were mimosas to be enjoyed. She made herself a cocktail, logged on to World of Warcraft, and set about the business of battling monsters.<br />
Three hours and four mimosas later, she decided to get some food in her stomach. She ordered some pizza, and went to the couch to binge watch a show on Netflix.<br />
When the doorbell rang, Leslie suddenly realized she was still in her boxy black-and-white polk-a-dot pajamas. This was the first time since she graduated that she could remember being in her PJs all day, and it felt fucking fantastic.<br />
She went to the door with no shame for her disheveled appearance. <i>This must be what it's like to be a man,</i> she thought to herself. <i>Zero fucks given. </i><br />
If the delivery guy was surprised by her appearance, he did a good job of hiding it. She double-checked the pizza for accuracy, and then tipped him ten dollars.<br />
"Are you off work today?" he asked.<br />
Leslie smiled.<br />
"Uh, yeah. Is it <i>that</i> obvious?"<br />
"You're lucky you didn't have to go anywhere today," he explained. "There was a huge meteor that leveled some buildings over at highways 17 and 86. I had to take a different route to get to work."<br />
"Oh wow! Did you see which buildings? I work over by there!"<br />
"No, I'm sorry. But it's all over the news."<br />
"OK. I'll check it out. Drive safe," Leslie said as she closed the door.<br />
She turned on the news, and, sure enough, her office high-rise building was reduced to a stump, belching out smoke and flames. Eyes wide and mouth gaping, Leslie held a slice of pizza in suspension as a reporter described the scene.<br />
<i>Oh, shit,</i> she thought to herself as she watched the update.<br />
"... coming out of the building. First responders are unable to confirm any survivors."<br />
After a minute of watching in stunned silence, cheese sliding off of the hot slice she still held in mid-air, Leslie came out of her spell and took a frantic bite of the comfort junk food.<br />
Chewing slowly as she listened to witness accounts, Leslie learned that no one had survived. She felt terrible. Not so much for the loss of life, because she felt nothing. <br />
One one hand, she knew she should be devastated at the loss of her coworkers. But, really and truly, they were all just a bunch of condescending, passive-aggressive, gossiping bitches she couldn't stand. She never received an invitation to hang out with them. (But that never stopped them from discussing all the fun they were going to have on Sunday Funday, or making a big deal over their past adventures, right the fuck in front of her, as if to rub in the fact that she wasn't part of their clique.)<br />
She never cared for the bullshit. She didn't kiss up to the lead bitch, and she may have, on one or more occasions, been a little less tactful than they cared for. Apparently, in their minds, all of these social crimes warranted exiling her from their circle. She tried not to let it bother her, but being in a new city with no prior connections there made her personal life a lot more solitary than she cared for.<br />
And now, they were all gone. If her sense of duty and adult responsibility had overridden her overwhelming sense of dread in regards to that day, she would have died, too. It was eery, realizing how making a decision most people would have frowned upon, was the very thing that saved her life. As if the same instincts that tell farm animals when it's about to storm were warning her that morning that something terrible was coming.<br />
Maybe she should feel guilty. <i>That's what a good person would do at this moment, right?</i><br />
But all Leslie could feel was relieved. The cognitive dissonance was more than she cared to deal with right now. She was too drunk to think about anything. <br />
She opened up a bottle of Reisling, grabbed another slice, and switched the TV to Netflix to binge watch another great show.Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-6216664661186001882016-07-01T18:08:00.000-07:002016-07-01T18:52:09.700-07:00Things that Go Bump in the Night, Should Be the Least of Your Worries This week's <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2016/07/01/flash-fiction-challenge-insomnia/">Flash Fiction Challenge</a> is about Insomnia, something I've struggled with for decades. This is very familiar ground for me. So, without further ado, here's my contribution for the week (CW, 18+):<br />
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<b><u>Things that Go Bump in the Night, Should Be the Least of Your Worries</u></b></div>
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<b>2:36 a.m.</b></div>
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Alicia glared at the harsh light of the alarm clock, set to go off in exactly three hours and twenty-four minutes.</div>
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"<i>Fuuuuucccccckkkkkkk</i>," she whispered with exasperation into the otherwise dark and empty room. The barely audible curse floated up to the vaulted ceiling in a silent prayer of desperation, then slowly returned to sender.</div>
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It grew larger as it came back down to her, ultimately enveloping her in a shroud of silent rage.</div>
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Every moment that passed seemed like a cruel instrument of torment, each minute lingering for maximum agony, as if the gods themselves were gaining sadistic pleasure from the abject state of misery she suffered every night.</div>
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Seething with frustration, she tossed and turned.</div>
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Alicia had used every trick in the book to try to get some damned sleep. And every single damned one failed her miserably. </div>
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Counting sheep? ... <i>Nope. </i>She even tried advanced algorithms with the sheep, manipulating them to create ellipses and complex polygons. The sheep were obedient to her every mathematical whim, but still proved to be ineffectual.<i> </i></div>
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And while nighttime yoga may have been helpful for others, the only benefit she reaped was increased flexibility. Which, in turn, gave her a few new configurations for tossing and turning her exhausted body at night.</div>
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She tried bubble baths, nightcaps, hypnosis -- but nothing proved to be helpful. Melatonin and Nyquil proved to be temporary fixes which ultimately created more frustration as their efficacy peaked, then quickly diminished.</div>
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Finally, after begging for a solution, her primary physician reluctantly suggested a new medicine. </div>
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That night, her attempt at rest was a disappointment, just like every night for as long as she could remember. </div>
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Unable to fall asleep after taking her prescription sleep aid, Alicia found herself in a bizarre state of mind.</div>
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She ended up in a heated debate with her cat, Mr. Fluffaluffagus. </div>
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"I fucking told you, Mr. F! Schroedinger's Cat was <i>both</i> alive <i>and</i> dead! ... No, I <i>don't </i>know why he didn't choose a dog! ... Are you actually offended by that theory?"</div>
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"<i>Well, I just don't think it was a good analogy for ANYTHING," </i>the cat snidely replied. </div>
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The debate escalated as the night went on, and became so intense that her neighbors came to the door, demanding to know who she was arguing with. They were well aware that she lived alone, and that her love life was non-existent. </div>
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Alicia lied and said she was rehearsing for a play, and they threatened to call the police the next time it happened. She closed the door, relieved that they finally left, and turned to see Mr. Fluffaluffagus glaring at her with smug satisfaction. </div>
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<i> Damned cat, thinks he's so much better than me.</i></div>
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Alicia sank down in her wing-back chair and buried her head in her hands, shortly before passing out. </div>
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The next morning, she couldn't remember how she got there, or why her cat seemed so resentful toward her.</div>
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The rest of the day was beyond surreal. Reality and fantasy seemed to blur together, with no real delineation between the two. </div>
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She figured it was just an adjustment period for the medicine.</div>
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That night, things became even stranger.</div>
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Colors seemed more vivid, eliciting a sense of elation as she explored the depths of a particularly enchanting rabbit hole. She laughed uncontrollably as she traipsed through the wonderful land.</div>
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Nothing in this fantastical world made sense, but she had resigned to the fact that nothing actually <i>needed</i> to make sense any more. Everything that her life was before -- the string of devastating losses, the agonizing isolation that followed -- fell away as she went further and further down this hole.</div>
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All that mattered now was the journey, and the adventures she would have along the way.</div>
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After all the tension, being so tightly wound that even her closest friends couldn't stand to be near her, Alicia had found a moment of self-awareness and realization.</div>
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Deep inside, she had become like a cage that imprisoned the tiniest and cutest of animals. No one around her could see through to what was inside; all they knew was the cold, metal frame on the outside.</div>
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Before tonight, she didn't know how to show the world who she really was. She didn't know how to free all the lovable, furry creatures that dwelled within.</div>
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But now, she knew what to do.</div>
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In the surreal land, she climbed to the top of the highest mountain to reveal to the world what she had hidden inside for so long.</div>
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Alicia found the key to the cage, and as she slowly turned it, the adorable creatures were squealing and dancing with anticipation for the freedom they had never known. The more she turned the key, the more excited they became.</div>
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She never knew how many fluffy animals had been bound up inside, not until she gathered the courage to free them! And out they came: the bunnies, the hedgehogs, the sugar gliders, the baby otters, and the potbelly pigs, all so excited to finally be free, to share their unbearable cuteness with the world!</div>
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And with their emancipation, Alicia felt so light, so happy for their freedom, so happy that everyone would see her for who she was <i>on the inside</i>! She finally shared everything that had been locked up for so long! And it felt so good! She spread her arms and bared her chest, surrendering to the freedom and laughing as she slowly drifted away.</div>
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Hours later, a popular after-hours nightclub was shut down. Yellow tape with the words, "POLICE LINE. DO NOT CROSS," wrapped around the building.</div>
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As he pieced together the final parts of the puzzle, the policeman shook his head. He had finished writing down the account of the bizarre incident's final witness. </div>
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A young woman, roughly in her mid-20s, had entered the club that night, acting very strange. </div>
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This was a place where bizarre behavior -- even a disheveled woman laughing maniacally for forty-five minutes straight as she wondered around aimlessly -- went without notice as the club's patrons, too drunk and too stoned to care, would laugh it off and continue dancing. </div>
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It wasn't until she climbed into an empty dancer's cage and, in a state of pure bliss and ecstasy, gutted herself in front of the entire room of screaming witnesses, that it occurred to anyone that something was actually wrong.</div>
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Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-25054452453888519472016-02-12T18:52:00.002-08:002016-02-12T19:10:25.449-08:00The Cost of Flying Too HighThis week's Flash Fiction Challenge is <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2016/02/05/flash-fiction-challenge-the-subgenre-tango/">The Subgenre Tango</a> again! I love these! The Random Number Generator selected BDSM Erotica and Body Horror. I had a little fun with this one! Needless to say: NSFW, possible trigger warnings.<br />
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<b><u>The Cost of Flying Too High</u></b></div>
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"Ohhhhhhhh!"<br />
The crack of the whip was pure ambrosia, the sensation so deliciously painful. Lillian was ecstatic. Little ripples of pleasure shot through her body with each lash, making her bite her lip in a feeble attempt to contain herself.<br />
She tried to show some restraint, to hide her complete state of rapture. She failed miserably, writhing and moaning softly.<br />
Mistress Rita was not amused. She had no tolerance for this shit, and she made it abundantly clear.<br />
"Lillian, I distinctly told you <i>not</i> to come unless you ask me first! Did you hear me?!?"<br />
Lillian knew to respond immediately, or there would be consequences.<br />
"Yes, Mistress."<br />
Mistress Rita was quick to deliver punishment. Lillian knew this all too well. She had been very careless, and this was simply unacceptable. <br />
The dominatrix ordered her submissive to crawl on all fours to the toilet, and to scrub it with a toothbrush. She did as she was told, and to her mistress' liking.<br />
"Lillian, when are you supposed to come?"<br />
Lillian looked up from the dirty bathroom floor, now covered in filth. She felt ashamed for her lack of self control.<br />
"Only when you give me permission," she replied feebly.<br />
Mistress Rita narrowed her eyes, then a cruel smirk slowly crept across her face.<br />
<i>God, she's so fucking hot</i>, Lillian thought. She struggled to hide her lusty feelings, to show her humility toward her master. Mistress Rita stomped out of the room.<br />
"Come over here!"<br />
Lillian crawled to the parlor, where Mistress Rita was standing, hands on hips. She kept her eyes to the floor, her head low. If she dared look up, there would be consequences. She stopped right at her mistress' feet, adoring the beautiful, high-heeled PVC boots with embossed silver accents. <i>Shudder</i>. So much perfection.<br />
Lillian was ordered to sit on the floor and to choose a picture of her liking to stare at until Mistress Rita returned from her errands.<br />
"Do <i>not</i> move! If you move <i>one inch</i>, I will know. And the punishment will be even more severe than what you have just experienced," Mistress Rita stated, emphasizing each syllable to ensure the sub understood.<br />
"Yes, Mistress," Lillian softly answered. <br />
As Mistress Rita left her apartment, Lillian's eyes automatically went to <i>that </i>painting; the one she always found herself staring at when her mistress wasn't looking. She couldn't take her eyes off of it, and now, it was all she could see.<br />
The painting wasn't exactly a Rembrandt or a Monet, but there was something painfully beautiful about it. In the painting, an elegant woman, completely nude, was suspended from a ceiling over a crowd of people by fishing hooks that supported her weight.<br />
But the most memorable and impressive aspect of the painting was the subject's face -- her look of sheer bliss and reckless abandonment. She was in another world, free of all her troubles.<br />
That was what Lillian secretly longed for, all along. She had to escape, to get away from the world of unwelcome pain and anguish. The overdue bills. The controlling and meddling mother. Being abandoned by her husband. <br />
All of that went away, even for a little while, whenever she was playing the role of a submissive. The feeling of having decisions made <i>for </i>her, of surrendering to the will of another, to giving herself over completely, was something so pure and beautiful.<br />
Lillian had no idea how long she had been staring at the painting. She was lost in thought when the door opened. She could feel Mistress Rita's gaze. The pressure of being watched with so much malice made Lillian ache inside. She wanted so much to be fucked, and at the same time, she felt completely ashamed. She was so filthy. She needed to be punished. She craved the harsh treatment that only Mistress Rita could give. She anxiously waited for her mistress to speak.<br />
"Slave, what made you choose this painting," Mistress Rita asked with a hint of sardonic amusement.<br />
"It's so beautiful," Lillian reverently spoke, her trembling voice barely above a whisper. "I see the joy on her face, and I want to feel what she feels."<br />
Mistress Rita stood there, pensively. She withheld her words, knowing how much the sub wished for her to speak. Awkward silences were her specialty, and she used them as an instrument of pain.<br />
"You may look at me now."<br />
Lillian looked upon her goddess with worshipful eyes.<br />
"Lillian, I'm going out of town for two weeks. You may not contact me while I am gone. You are going to have to fend for yourself."<br />
Lillian could feel her heart sinking. This was terrible news. She listened, in complete silence.<br />
"You are going to request services from a suspension artist, and submit yourself wholly to the process. When I return, you will have completed the experience. I want pictures and video."<br />
Lillian felt her heart pounding in her chest. She was terrified of heights. And as afraid as she was of needles, the thought of being pierced with hooks was beyond anything she could fathom. <br />
And yet, her mistress commanded it. She would never go against Mistress Rita's orders. To do so would completely end the relationship, and she could not live without her.<br />
She packed Mistress Rita's bags for her, and humbly bade her farewell. As she watched her mistress walk out the door, she could feel her heart reducing to tiny shards.<br />
Those shards cut away at her insides as days turned to nights, and then to days again. Lillian couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. Without her mistress, she was reduced to nothing. Being without Mistress Rita was worse than any punishment she had ever been dealt.<br />
One morning, she wondered how much longer it would be. A sudden panic shot through her like a bolt of electricity. It shocked her into realization. She ran to the calendar, and realized it was the last Friday she would be alone. Mistress Rita was returning on Monday, and Lillian needed to find a suspension artist right away! If she didn't, she would lose her beloved mistress forever.<br />
She called around, but everyone was already booked at least two weeks in advance. There was no one available.<br />
Lillian looked up the seediest bars in town, and finally found one that suited her. Happy hour would begin soon, and she hoped to find someone who was up for the task.<br />
A Shot in the Dark was a disgusting excuse for a dive bar, and absolutely perfect for Lillian's purposes. It was, as the name suggested, very dark inside -- if not for the ambiance, then to hide the fact that it was rarely cleaned. The smell of musty leather and pickled <i>everything</i> hung in the air. Lillian was glad she dressed appropriately -- her black leather corset and denim cutoffs seemed almost like a uniform in this place. <br />
She took a seat at the bar, and ordered a shot of whiskey. After making small talk with the bartender, she mustered up the courage to ask.<br />
"Hey, I've been thinking about doing body suspension, but it seems like everyone is already booked up."<br />
The bartender raised an eyebrow.<br />
"Really?!? How soon are you wantin' to do this? Is it for a special occasion?"<br />
"No, I just want to do it before I lose my nerve. So, tonight, if at all possible."<br />
The bartender laughed and stepped back.<br />
"I'm sorry, sweetie. I don't think <i>anyone</i> would be available on such short notice."<br />
Then, a burly, bearded guy sitting two seats down motioned for the bartender. Lillian couldn't hear what they were saying over the loud music, but luckily the bartender relayed the message.<br />
"That's Sam," the bartender said as Sam raised his hand off the bar in a subtle wave. "He says he knows a guy."<br />
Lillian thanked the bartender and tipped him generously. She sat next to Sam, and he told her about an underground club nearby that he manages. They did shows on Friday nights, and one of the guys who signed up for it had "pussed out."<br />
"Now, the guy who's handling things tonight is new. We decided to give him a chance, because he's been bugging us forever."<br />
"No worries," Lillian replied, smiling. "Everyone starts somewhere!"<br />
She was just happy to have found someone on such short notice.<br />
The underground club was in an abandoned warehouse. It was even filthier than the bar.<br />
Sam escorted Lillian to the back, where a massage table was set up.<br />
A tattooed bald man was carefully inserting hooks into another man's knees. He was lifted off the table, his head swinging to the floor. The crowd cheered as he twirled and spun around. Little trickles of blood started to drip from his knees, as he spread his arms wide over the crowd's heads.<br />
Lillian could feel the effects of the whiskey wearing off. She needed some liquid courage, and fast!<br />
She looked over to the bar, and Sam stopped her. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.<br />
"Nope. Trust me on this, you don't want any alcohol in your system. This is an amazing experience, and you want to be fully aware of every sensation."<br />
Lillian shuddered with fear, but she nodded in compliance. Sam handed her a book with pictures of different types of suspension. She looked through all of them, and settled on her favorite. It was just like the woman in the painting.<br />
"Oh, that's the 'Angel.' It's really cool, but are you sure you don't want to start off with an easier one?"<br />
Lillian shook her head. This was probably the only time she would ever do this. <br />
"Go big or go home, right?"<br />
Sam smiled, shaking his head.<br />
The suspension artist studied the picture, and Lillian could sense some slight hesitation. He motioned for her to lay down. He marked the spots to insert the hooks, and proceeded to pierce her skin in eight different places.<br />
Sam took the microphone and introduced Lillian to the crowd.<br />
"Put your hands together, ladies and germs! We're popping this little lady's cherry tonight! That's right, this is her <i>first time</i> doing this!"<br />
The crowd cheered twice as loud as it did for the last performer. After the last hook was put in, and they tested the gear, Lillian was lifted off of the table.<br />
They started slowly, just barely lifting her up. It was like nothing Lillian had ever experienced before. She closed her eyes, and all her problems fell away. She was flying. She felt free.<br />
She could feel herself swinging back and forth. It was exhilarating. She wanted to go even higher. She looked back at Sam and pointed up. He made an OK gesture, and raised her up.<br />
It was amazing. She loved floating about the crowd, soaring. She wanted to go higher.<br />
She motioned, and again, was raised up. After flying some more, she motioned again. Sam shook his head. She requested to go higher again. He rolled his eyes, and finally gave in. Higher she went, until she could nearly touch the ceiling.<br />
It wasn't until a few minutes of swinging that she realized something was wrong. She was falling off of the hooks.<br />
She couldn't control it. The suspension artist scrambled to lower her safely, but she fell off completely. Her body rolled as she hit the floor.<br />
When she came to, everyone was looking at her, asking if she was OK.<br />
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No stranger to pain, Lillian mustered a smile and slowly stood up. Her body hurt like a motherfucker, but she would be OK. She was ushered to the back office, where Sam and a female bartender looked her over.<br />
"Ooh, that doesn't look good," he said when he examined her back. "You got health insurance?"<br />
Lillian shook her head.<br />
"Here. Take these," he said as he handed her a pill bottle. "Don't mix them with alcohol. I'll check up on you tomorrow. What's your number?"<br />
Lillian gave him her phone number, and he helped her hire an Uber driver to take her home. <br />
"I'm sorry I couldn't drive you; I have to shut this place down tonight. Take no more than two pills tonight, three if you're absolutely in fucking pain. But don't overdo it; these babies are pretty potent."<br />
Lillian nodded, and headed home.<br />
That night, the pain was even more excruciating than before. <i>The bruises must be setting in</i>, she thought to herself.<br />
She had already taken one pill, so she decided to take two more, keep ahead of the pain.<br />
She didn't wake up until mid-afternoon on Saturday. The pain was even worse than before. And it wasn't just on her back. The pain had spread through her arms and legs, and felt like it was searing into her like a fire brand. She took some deep breaths, trying to manage it. It was unbearable.<br />
<i>I must have a high tolerance to these pills</i>, she thought. Pain pills were a regular part of her diet whenever she was recovering from Mistress Rita's punishment.<br />
She popped some more, but they didn't seem to work. The pain just wouldn't go away. She was half-conscious, but still feeling the intense sensation throughout her body. She looked at the back of her right arm, where a particularly painful sensation was pulsating. It was black and red. <br />
<i>This can't be right</i>, she thought. She looked at other parts of her body, where her creamy, clear skin had turned horribly ugly. She wasn't sure, but she thought she was smelling something ... like decay. Her head was swirling, her body nearly convulsing with chills. She grabbed a bottle of water, and took two more pills.<br />
Within seconds, Lillian collapsed to the floor, her head rolling back. She was aware of her surroundings, but completely unable to move her body. It was moving on its own, seizing. She was faintly aware of foaming at the mouth. She was the helpless puppet of an alien force, rattling her body and thrashing it about like a dog with a chew toy. <br />
In a moment, it was over. She wanted to throw up, to expel the poison. But her body wouldn't let her. She lay immobile, unable to help herself, or call for help from anyone else. She was all alone with The Pain.<br />
All this time, she thought she was in love with Mistress Rita. Maybe the truth was, she was really in love with The Pain. It was The Pain that had delivered her from her mundane life. <br />
The Pain which had helped her find her identity. <br />
The Pain which had made her forget.<br />
The Pain which had made her truly alive.<br />
As the hours passed, The Pain made itself more and more at home inside her body. It ate her flesh alive, slowly. It feasted upon all that her life had become, and all that she ever would be.<br />
It consumed her, little by little. The Pain was gradually taking over her, enveloping her in its all-consuming fire.<br />
Its chosen vessel, the flesh-eating bacteria, had found its way into Lillian's body on that fateful night when she soared too high. The Pain had passed the point of no return; she was now completely Hers.<br />
As promised, Mistress Rita returned from her trip on Monday, with plans to reunite with her sub. She would allow Lillian to feed her dinner, then massage her feet if she behaved well enough. <br />
She called out for Lillian, even stamped her foot to emphasize the immediacy of her demands. But there was no answer. Lillian was no longer hers to abuse.<br />
The Pain, her true mistress, had brought her into Her own. </div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-90787668790656727532016-01-31T16:14:00.000-08:002016-01-31T16:14:53.575-08:00Tweet Dreams are Made of These<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> This week's <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2016/01/31/flash-fiction-challenge-yes-i-know-its-sunday-not-friday-shut-up/">Flash Fiction Challenge</a> is to write the entire story through social media. I chose Twitter, because it's been a huge platform for online bullying in recent years. Any resemblance between this story and real life events is purely coincidental. Please do enjoy. *NSFW, potential triggers*</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"><b><u>Tweet Dreams are Made of These</u></b></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"><b>Samantha Darling</b> @samanthadarling June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">Just played the new Crimesanity XIV game for the PX8. Here's my review: <u><span style="color: blue;">samanthadarling.com/crimesanity</span></u> #gamereview, #notafan, #sexismingaming</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><b style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"><br /></b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black;"><b style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> NVRCuckolded </b><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> @nvrcuckolded June 13</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> How the fuck can you say that? Crimesanity is the most successful gaming franchise in </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">PX history! STFU and get back in the kitchen!</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"><b> DeathToMisandry </b> @deathtomisandry June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> Any REAL gamer knows Crimesanity is awesome, and those are just characters! This </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">isn't real life! Lighten up, bitch!</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"><b> Annie Lux</b> @annielux June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> OMG! She just expressed her opinion about the game! Why so much hostility?</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Bitchesmustdie</b> @bitchesmustdie June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> If I ever see you, I'll do to you what Sam Stone did to that stuck-up slut in Crimesanity! </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">#showemwhosboss, #bitchesamiright</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Pssystar</b> @pssystar June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> You think THAT'S hot? Come see me and all my sexy, slutty friends on our NO LIMITS </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">WEBCAM site 18+ <span style="color: blue;"><u>www.pssystardom.com</u></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Shecomeshard</b> @shecomeshard June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> Want to make her come EVERY TIME?!? Then YOU need a bigger, harder cock! Go to </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"><span style="color: blue;"><u>www.hardcocksrus.com</u></span>!</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Themightyween</b> @themightyween June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> I'm going to find you and make you pay for what you've done. </span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b> Stephanie Leigh</b> @stephlee June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> You guys need to stop! This is beyond inappropriate!</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b> Dudisms</b> @dudisms June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> Are you sure you're not subconsciously expressing your sexual frustrations? Give me </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">you're address, and I'll come put a smile on your face.</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>BestPUAEver </b> @bestpuaever June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> Why are U playing games U don't like when U could be getting me off? </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">#itsnotgoingtosuckitself, #betteruseofyourtime</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b> Broisright </b>@broisright June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> You're an awful writer and you don't know fuckall about gaming! If you're going to suck, </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">suck this!</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b> Sluts4U </b>@sluts4u June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> Is your lady not treating you right? Our girls will do ANYTHING YOU WANT! ANAL! </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">ORAL! 3SOMES! No limits! 18+ <u><span style="color: blue;">www.sluts4u.com</span></u>.</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Samantha Darling </b> @samanthadarling June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> Really, people?!? What I wrote was just a review and a critique. These comments are </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">getting out of hand. #growupalready</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Jonesie</b> @jonesie June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> Here's a critique of your ugly face! <span style="color: blue;"><u>www.jonesie.com/itsjustagameyoustupidbitch</u></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Samantha Darling </b> @samanthadarling June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>@jonesie</b>, that's a really low blow. Do you really think that was necessary?</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Dudisms </b> @dudisms June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> What's "necessary" is your lips wrapped around my cock! Get on your knees and get to </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">work!</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Bitchesmustdie </b> @bitchesmustdie June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> Real name and address: Jennifer Logan. 24986 W. Manchester Ln. Paris, TX, 75462</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Samantha Darling </b> @samanthadarling June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> WTF?!? I'm reporting you for this! You can't post my personal info!</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Bitchesmustdie </b> @bitchesmustdie June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> I believe I just did. Go ahead, take it down. But it's already out there. And now everyone </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">knows how to find you. </span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Themightyween </b> @themightyween June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> I already have what I need. Get ready. I'm going to make you scream all night.</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Broisright </b>@broisright June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> Not if I don't get to her first. I hope you like sloppy seconds, <b>@themightyween</b>!</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b> Julie Knox </b> @julieknox June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> This has just gone beyond harassment and into the realm of viable threats. Leave her </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">alone, or I'll call the cops.</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b> Broisright </b> @broisright June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> STFU, <b>@julieknox</b>, or you'll be next!</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"><b>Hailey Mann </b> @haileymann June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">Just saw a kitten doing somersaults in the park! So effing cute! </span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-weight: normal; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #666666;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Farting Unicorn retweeted</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"><b>Snarky Sodas </b> @snarkysodas June 13</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">Why settle for mass-produced beverages when you can enjoy our hand-crafted sodas! No corn syrup or artificial ingredients! snarkysodas.com</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"><b>LBN Breaking News </b> @lbnnews June 14</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">A local video game reviewer shot and killed intruders in her home, just hours after threats were made on Twitter. <span style="color: blue;"><u>lbnnews.it/drKeyRL</u></span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"><b>Samantha Darling </b> @samanthadarling June 15</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">If you're up to date on the news, you know what happened to me. I can't take this any more. I love my fans, but I have to resign. Goodbye.</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Julie Knox </b> @julieknox June 15</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> No! Don't let them force you out! You made a difference in the lives of so many! </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">#don'tdoit</span></span><div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Broisright </b> @broisright June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> Good riddance to dumb bitches! #ftw</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> <b>Bitchesmustdie </b> @bitchesmustdie June 13</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;"> Bye, felicia!</span></span></div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-52557559205927293412015-10-24T13:18:00.003-07:002015-10-24T13:18:58.184-07:00X Meets Y ... The Horror Edition This round of Chuck Wendig's Flash Fiction Challenge is <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/10/16/flash-fiction-challenge-its-x-meets-y-the-horror-edition/">X Meets Y ... The Horror Edition!</a> The Random Number Generator selected for me: Nightmare on Elm Street meets Back to the Future! Please do enjoy!<br />
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<b><u>Back to the Nightmare</u></b></div>
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The speeding car grew increasingly faster as Nancy, Tina, Glen, and Rod banged on the windows, struggling to get out. As their screams pierced the air, Marge tried to help them, only to be pulled inside the car.</div>
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The hood started smoking as the car raced down the bucolic country road, driving the passengers to new heights of fear and panic. Nancy's eyes grew wide as she saw the earth before them caving in. Barreling toward the cliff, their death seemed imminent.</div>
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Freddy threw his head back, as he released a menacing laugh.</div>
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Suddenly, the tires popped. The car spun away from the cliff, careening into the desert. </div>
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Nancy hit her head, forcing her back to reality.</div>
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She looked around, realizing her friends were gone. She was alone, behind the wheel, and apparently had fallen unconscious while driving.</div>
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"Are you OK, M'am?"</div>
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The voice jolted her. She looked up to see a guy with a funny-looking hat. She shook her head and squinted her eyes.</div>
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"Wh-who are you?"</div>
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"I'm Marty. The fate of the world is in danger. We have to go back in time to save your friends. There's no time to explain. Get in the time machine!"</div>
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He helped her out of the car and put her into the DeLorean. Stunned, she looked around at the high-tech car's interior.</div>
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She could see how the car stopped; a string of nails stopped the car, subsequently saving her life. She rubbed her head where she had hit it, still in disbelief.</div>
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As he strapped himself in to the car, he explained what happened.</div>
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"Nancy, you and your friends are the only ones who understand Freddy, who know how to kill him. You are the only ones who can save the rest of the world. </div>
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"Doc visited the future, and saw what happens. In the future, he terrorizes teenagers and kills them, one by one. He moves from town to town, leaving a trail of murders in his path. </div>
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"For every kid he kills, he gains their life force. Ultimately, he becomes all powerful and wipes out the entire human race."</div>
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Nancy took a minute to process what she had just been told. She took a deep breath and looked up.</div>
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"Let's kill this son of a bitch, once and for all," she pronounced.</div>
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Marty set the time back and explained when they were going.</div>
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"Doc and I snuck into the Libyans' camp, and stole the rest of the plutonium to fuel the time machine. Then, we took all of their guns and ammunition. And trust me -- you'll need it."</div>
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Marty and Nancy went to the sleepover, where Tina was murdered. They snuck into the room where Tina and Rod were about to sleep.</div>
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Nancy hid battery-operated alarm clocks under the bed, and in the closet, and everywhere she could think of.</div>
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That night, as time Tina and Rod started to drift off, they were jolted awake by the first alarm.</div>
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"What the fuck is going on," Rod demanded. He and Tina looked all over to find the alarms. "Is this your idea of a joke, Glen?"</div>
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Marty and Nancy hid, watching the agitated teens bicker over the alarm clocks. It seemed pretty juvenile, but they saved lives that night.</div>
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The next day, as the kids went to school, Marty told Nancy the second part of his plan.</div>
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"You're going to have to bring him into our reality. When you originally did that, you didn't beat him. But I've watched him, and I know how we can take him down.</div>
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"We will need you, and Present Nancy, to join forces. There will be unforeseen effects on you in the future, but it's a small sacrifice to pay for saving the world."</div>
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When Nancy and her friends got home, Marty greeted them and told them he knew all about Freddy. He then told them where he was from, and introduced them to Future Nancy as proof.</div>
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"Oh my god," Present Nancy exclaimed, looking Future Nancy up and down. Future Nancy took her hand and assured her: We're going to get through this. We have to.</div>
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Marty showed them his arsenal of weapons, and how to use them. </div>
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"Future Nancy is going to fall asleep, then bring him into our world," he told them. "The second that happens, we have to kill him. The fate of the world is in our hands!"</div>
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Future Nancy got in on a group hug with Present Nancy, and all of her friends. Then, she laid down, fully aware that it was a suicide mission.</div>
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The next thing she knew, she was in a dream world again, surrounded by birthday cake and brightly colored streamers. It was her fifth birthday party, the best memory of her childhood.</div>
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She and her friends sat around a table, and the grown-ups brought them cupcakes. She excitedly bit into hers, and a copper taste filled her mouth. She looked to see blood started oozing out of her birthday cake.</div>
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She gasped in shock, and looked around to see all of her friends eating normal cake and fully enjoying themselves.</div>
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"OK, guys, it's time for presents," her mom announced.</div>
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She was excited to see what she got. Her mom brought around a big box that was too big to be carried. It was bright green, with a pink ribbon tied around it.</div>
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She couldn't wait to open it! This was the biggest gift she had ever seen!</div>
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When she pulled one of the ribbon's tails, the bow came undone and fell to the floor. </div>
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"Pop goes the weasel!"</div>
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Freddy burst out of the box, fully extending his claws. The children screamed.</div>
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"Nancy, I've come for you! I'm here to make sure you have a screaming good time!"</div>
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Nancy screamed and ran. She ran down the hallway, tears streaming down her face. She knew what she had to do, but her old fears took over.</div>
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She ran into a dead end. None of the doors would open. She turned around to see Freddy looming overhead, ready to strike.</div>
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She ducked as he swung, and grabbed him at the waist. As she tumbled, the impact woke her, and she brought Freddy along.</div>
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"Nancy, run!"</div>
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Nancy did as she was told, and ran past her friends as they pointed their guns at Freddy. They all started shooting. He laughed maniacally as the bullets had no affect.</div>
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He slashed Rod, and watched in amusement as his body fell, lifeless, to the floor.</div>
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"You want me, come and get me," Freddy sang.</div>
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He disappeared, and reappeared behind Tina. Her eyes grew big as the blade of his claw drew a red line across her neck. He disappeared again as her jugular vein spurted her lifeblood all over the room.</div>
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Marty ran, looking for Future Nancy. He arrived at the kitchen to find that he was too late. He watched in horror as Freddy carved her tongue out with a paring knife.</div>
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Freddy sneered at Marty. "Well, are ya gonna do something?"</div>
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He slit open her abdomen, letting her entrails spill out. "Or are you chicken," he mocked as he held up her liver.</div>
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A dark pall fell over Marty's face.</div>
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"Nobody. Calls. Me. Chicken."</div>
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He lifted his flame thrower and let loose on the scar-faced demon standing before him. Freddy screamed in horror, begging it to stop.</div>
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He was reduced to ashes. Marty dropped his weapons, breathing a sigh of relief.</div>
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"Glen? Nancy? You guys OK?"</div>
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Nancy called out, "Is he dead?"</div>
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"He is."</div>
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Nancy and Glen came out to see the carnage in front of them. She cried as she saw how her future self died.</div>
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Glen held her closes as she cried on his shoulder. Marty bowed his head in solemnity.</div>
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Suddenly, a giant harpoon pierced all three of them. As the teens gargled, looking around in wide-eyed shock, Freddy's laughter filled the room.</div>
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"Did you think you were free? You are all my children. Forever!"</div>
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"Freddy," Marty pleased. "That car Nancy and I came in, it's a time machine! You can go back to before all of this happened. To before you were burned. To before <i>all of this!"</i></div>
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<i> </i>Freddy laughed again.</div>
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"Foolish boy! Before, I had no power! Now, I have more power than ever! And it grows with every kill!</div>
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"I am a horrible, vengeful god! I destroy at will! And <i>nothing </i>can stop me!"</div>
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The teens gurgled up blood as Freddy laughed in their faces.</div>
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"Did you like how all of this went down, because I sure had a good time," Freddy taunted. "In fact, I think I'll keep doing this! Using the DeLorean, I can travel back in time, and kill each of you a different way each time!"</div>
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He laughed maniacally as the three watched helplessly.</div>
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As he climbed into the DeLorean, he winked at the teens.</div>
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"This is going to be fun!"</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-57258739120805117742015-07-30T21:27:00.002-07:002015-07-30T21:33:10.401-07:00Why I WriteThis week's Flash Fiction Challenge is actually not writing fiction; it's writing about <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/07/24/todays-flash-fiction-writing-challenge-is-not-about-fiction/">why I write.</a> Here it is:<br />
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<b><u>Why I Write</u></b></div>
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<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
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I can't remember the first time I sat down and wrote something of fiction. I can, however, remember the first time I had a favorite book: Golden Book's "The Pokey Little Puppy", because in my young, impressionable mind, desserts and puppies were a double-win. (And still are, as a matter of fact!)</div>
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I've always loved books, and I read hungrily and fervently from a young age. (I had serious coordination problems when I was younger. Sports were out of the question, but reading always came easy to me.) My favorite pastime was to go to the library, check out the maximum number of books, and read them all in the two-week period before they were due.</div>
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I had a lot of difficulty expressing myself as a child. My parents tell me that I took a long time to learn to talk. My brother, who was two years older, would speak <i>for</i> me. </div>
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When I finally did start talking, I had a speech impediment. I couldn't pronounce my "Rs", and had serious problems acquiring a normal speech pattern. This, combined with my lack of coordination, made for a very awkward childhood. It was very isolating; even in my family, no one else had my issues.</div>
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It wasn't until my freshman year in high school that I found my own voice through writing. Something clicked. I realized I could write the way I always wished I could speak. I learned that my family, all of whom were overbearing, could finally understand what I was trying to tell them if I put it in writing. </div>
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Through writing, I could make myself clear without being talked over or interrupted. Through writing, my thoughts, which were otherwise horribly snarled together, would magically untangle and set themselves in order. Through writing, who I really was could come through, unobscured and untainted. Through writing, I was made to be understood. Through writing, I was made whole.</div>
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Over time, I was able to work out some of the kinks in my verbal communication skills. Menial jobs that included repetitious phrases helped me to improve my speech patterns. But writing remained -- and still remains -- my most effective form of communication.</div>
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There were times in my life when I didn't write. Caught up in Pursuit of the Practical, I was ultimately unfulfilled. I knew there was something missing, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It wasn't until my last newspaper job, after a five-year hiatus from the journalism industry initiated by a layoff, that I realized why I wasn't functioning properly.</div>
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I needed to write. I needed to express myself, to reactivate that part of my brain that I had abandoned. So I blew off the dust and cleared away the refuse in that part of my psyche which I never should have neglected. I Googled writing exercises, and found Chuck Wendig's Flash Fiction Challenges. </div>
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Immediately, I knew I was back where I belong. His challenges sparked my imagination and lit a fire that I had allowed to die out. His writing inspired me. And his advice encouraged me to embrace that which Everyday Routine and Pursuit of the Practical had made me forget.</div>
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For some time, I shied away from becoming a novelist. It seemed too daunting. I didn't think I had the attention span for it. </div>
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And let's just say I was late to the NaNoWriMo party; I actually didn't even know what it was until I saw it in Wendig's blog last fall. I was afraid to start it then, but a part of me wondered ...</div>
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This past Spring, the local Nano group I had joined on Facebook mentioned a writer's conference that coming weekend. It was the single most influential weekend I've experienced in a long time. </div>
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It was more than just the sessions, which were amazing and inspiring. For the first time, I finally felt like I was surrounded by <i>my people</i>! I could sense the kindred spirits all around me, and it was invigorating and refreshing. </div>
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My entire life, I've been misunderstood. I've felt like a misfit, even in my own family. On the Briggs-Meyer's scale, I'm INFP. After researching this personality type, I've started to better understand myself. (Of course I've always been "weird" -- those with my personality type comprise only 4% of the population.) </div>
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For this personality type, writing is an ideal career. When I first saw that, I casually dismissed it, having been brainwashed for years to believe that the Pursuit of the Practical was the only way. </div>
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This summer, I finally decided to take the plunge. My first Nano of any kind, JuNoWriMo, was an eye-opener that broke major ground for me. I was challenged beyond anything I had ever done, and I realized my personal limits in writing were just arbitrary constructs that I had created out of fear. They weren't based on reality. </div>
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Breaking through those walls taught me that I could do anything I set my mind to. Before June, the most I'd ever written in one day was 3,000 words. On my novel-writing journey, I had two days where I wrote 10K words, thanks to word sprints and word wars. I completed 50K words two days before the end of the month. And in July, when I participated in (and completed) Camp NaNoWriMo, I wrote 15K in one day.</div>
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Writing can be a scary thing to pursue, when everyone around you pressures you to join them in the Pursuit of the Practical. What they don't realize is what is practical for them can be death to someone who is meant for creative pursuits. </div>
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What is truly practical for me is to embrace who I am as a writer. To stop hiding behind socially-mandated norms. To stop making excuses. To stop numbing my brain and allowing myself to be lulled into complacency with hours of television. To stop the bullshit.</div>
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Why do I write? Because I <i>must</i>. For me, to try to exist without it is to deny who I am at my very core. It's every bit as necessary as breathing. To not write is to stifle my creativity, my potential, my very being.</div>
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I have outgrown the cage that was built for me by well-meaning people in my life, and by myself. At this juncture, it's either: spread my wings and fly, or allow my wings to be clipped by limiting beliefs. In refusing to fly, I would sentence myself to become haunted by the ghosts of unfulfilled potential, and cursed to forever wonder what my life might have been, if I had <i>just been brave enough</i>. </div>
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As a certain three-eyed raven from GRRM's novels is fond of saying, "<i>Fly or Die</i>."</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-88371470411214702602015-07-17T11:42:00.000-07:002015-07-18T13:54:23.941-07:00The Corruption of Things Which Were Once AliveThis week's Flash Fiction Challenge is <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/07/17/flash-fiction-challenge-random-phrase/">Random Phrase</a>, where you visit a website that gives you a random phrase and write 1K words including that. My random phrase is "forensic souring".<br />
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<b><u>The Corruption of Things Which Were Once Alive</u></b></div>
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Lester never really loved his job. It was just something he did, on the way to finding his dreams. The economy had crashed right after he graduated college with his degree in graphic design.</div>
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He loved art and design. It was his life. In his younger years, he dreamed about working at a cutting-edge advertising firm, or designing for his favorite magazines. The possibilities seemed endless -- that was, before he got a taste of the <i>real world.</i></div>
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<i> </i>He felt like he was really good at what he did. He worked hard. He had talent. He had passion. But what he didn't have was a job lined up for when he graduated. </div>
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One by one, his friends around him were offered internships and full-time jobs. But for some reason, he couldn't seem to get his foot in the door. He sent letters to firms and businesses around the country, just begging for someone to give him a chance. But competition was fierce, and he was somehow always overlooked. He took freelance gigs whenever he could, but those were few and far between.</div>
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After three months of living as a starving artist, he reluctantly took a job as a mortician's assistant. The pay wasn't much, but it was just enough to pay the bills, and to buy him an occasional night out. He promised himself that he would keep applying for jobs, that maybe it would become easier now that the pressure was off. Maybe he would have better luck now that he wasn't so desperate. Maybe.</div>
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After about a year of learning the trade, the mortician took a higher paying job at a competitor, and he was automatically promoted. It meant a huge upgrade in his way of life. He couldn't pass it up.</div>
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Lester was perfecting his craft. Corpses seemingly came to life as he painted their faces and stitched their wounds. Sure, it wasn't his original passion, but it paid the bills. He was coming up in the world. </div>
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Over time, he was practicing design less and less in his free time. His freelance work went from being put on the back burner to being thrown away completely. His hair was greying, his skin wrinkling, and his dreams decaying, smothered by the life he created for himself. In the bustle of everyday life, working to survive the <i>real world, </i>he forgot about his dreams altogether. </div>
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That was, until Frances Englebert was wheeled into his lab. </div>
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"Old Frankie! Man, it's been a while. I'm sorry to see you like this."</div>
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He sighed in remorse, wishing for one more opportunity to speak to Frankie.</div>
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Frankie was a talented artist, and Lester's friendly rival at the art college. He looked up to him, envied him. Especially when he was offered a job at a big design firm in New York City. Lester read in the funeral program that he had made quite a life for himself. He worked his way to the top, and started his own firm. He had a beautiful family, and plenty of friends.</div>
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And now, here he was. His death was a tragedy, but his life was an inspiration. His legacy lived on through his children and his business, all of which had flourished.</div>
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Lester felt tears roll down his cheek. It was the first time he had felt anything in years. It suddenly dawned on him -- all this time, he had put all of his energy into living the <i>practical life</i>. He was surrounded by decay, spending all of his efforts trying to make death look as pretty as possible, painting an illusion of animation over the forensic souring that corrupted that which was once alive. </div>
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The reality sank in that night as he prepared his old friend for his final presentation to the world.</div>
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The next morning, the funeral director came in to see his mortician crumpled on the floor with tears in his eyes, his face puffy from hours of crying.</div>
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Lester was mourning, not just for his friend, but for himself and everything in his own life that he had allowed to die.</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-43888986671565765772015-06-27T22:33:00.000-07:002015-06-27T22:37:16.817-07:00In a Red Dress and AloneIn this week's Flash Fiction Challenge,<a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/06/26/flash-fiction-challenge-the-random-song-title-jamboree/"> The Random Song Title Jamboree</a>, a random song title from my music collection is the title for the story (although not necessarily the basis. Please do enjoy:<br />
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<b><u>In a Red Dress and Alone</u></b></div>
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She stood there, listening to the conversations around her. Alexis sipped her cocktail slowly, feeling more and more awkward by the moment.</div>
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This was a new town, a new environment altogether. A far cry from her hometown. She had been given a huge opportunity with her first job after college, and didn't think twice about leaving behind everyone and everything she had ever known.</div>
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She was excited at first when a coworker at her new job, Sophie, had invited her to her birthday party. She had hoped Sophie would introduce her to some people at the party to help her get acquainted. But once Alexis had arrived, Sophie was in her own little world, surrounded by her adoring fans.</div>
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Being the life of the party seemed to be more of a priority for Sophie than making her guests feel at home, and Alexis couldn't be mad at her for that, could she? After all, it <i>was</i> her birthday. Alexis occupied her own little corner of the room while Sophie chatted and laughed with her circle of friends.</div>
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Sophie seemed so perfect, with her full, pouty lips, her perky, firm breasts, and her hair that never lost its bounce. She was one of those effortlessly amazing girls who never had to worry about getting zits on her perfect skin, or about knowing what to do in any social situation. If there was a manual somewhere on how to handle social encounters of every kind, she had probably written all the current revisions.</div>
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Everyone was so drawn to her, and not just at this party. At work, she was always being praised for her accomplishments. Upper management would flock to her desk, falling over themselves to compliment her latest project. Alexis, who sat just a few cubicles over, would listen in as they waxed eloquent about how amazing Sophia was.</div>
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And while Alexis always considered herself to be above petty jealousy, it was impossible not to feel just a twinge of it as Little Miss Perfect was being lauded as the Most Awesome Person of the Year by practically everyone around.</div>
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And her birthday party was no different. Alexis felt like she wasn't even good enough to be in this woman's shadow. The moment she walked in the door of Sophie's apartment, which looked like it was decorated by Martha Stewart, herself, she felt inadequate. Smiling faces emanated with forced politeness, but Alexis could tell everyone was wondering who she was. Hell, these days, she wondered that very same thing, herself.</div>
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And why did she decide to wear this red dress? She had very little opportunity to wear it in other facets of her life, being neither appropriate attire for work, nor for grocery shopping. It had a vintage style to it, with a square neckline that minimized her proportionate bust line, and a skirt that flared out and stopped right above her knees. It looked so cute on the hanger, and nothing else in her closet seemed like the kind of thing to wear to this party. And her shoes -- black patent heels that pinched her toes together and made her back hurt -- just looked all wrong.</div>
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This was the first party Alexis had been invited to since she had graduated college. It was probably safe to assume that there would not be jello shots or beer pong here.</div>
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After seeing what all the other partygoers were wearing, the dress made her feel like a little girl. Everyone else wore either black or blue, or conservative neutrals. Most of the other girls had jeans on, and the ones who did wear a skirt or a dress wore something much more sophisticated and elegant than what Alexis had selected. And the birthday girl, herself, wore a dress that made her look like a mythical water nymph -- with delicate fabric in a muted cornflower blue, softly flowing down her graceful silhouette and ending mid calf in an asymmetrical handkerchief hem. Her short, graceful curls framed her beautiful, perpetually smiling face. The more Alexis looked at her, the more inadequate she felt.</div>
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The awkwardness was excruciating. She concentrated very hard on her drink. It wasn't exactly fascinating, but it was infinitely better than looking around the room and risking eye contact with strangers. Alexis hated situations like this. There were about a million things she would rather be doing. In fact, if she weren't at this party, she would have been at home, cuddling with her yorkie, and reading. It was a mistake coming here.</div>
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She decided she would wait about five minutes more, speak briefly to Sophie, and get back home to her comfortable pajamas and a glass of wine. Wading through the sea of strangers, she finally made her way to the birthday girl.</div>
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"Hey, Sophie, I just wanted to tell you happy birthday. I'm about to head out."</div>
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"OK, I'll see you at work on Monday."</div>
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Sophie barely acknowledged her, before going back to her circle of admirers. They all whispered and giggled together as Alexis stepped out.</div>
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She breathed a sigh of relief as she sat in the driver's seat of her car and closed her door. She was going back to her fortress of solitude, to bask in the glow of a new book.</div>
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Back at the party, a very shy and very awkward young man sighed as he stared into his beer. He could barely contain his disappointment. He didn't know anyone there, and he was just about to muster the courage to speak to the pretty girl in the red dress. But before he even got the chance, she quickly made her exit.</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-65845011105822477592015-06-12T17:45:00.000-07:002015-06-13T12:28:08.649-07:00Some Things, Once Smelled, Can Never Be UnsmelledI haven't done very many Flash Fiction Challenges lately because I'm doing JuNoWriMo, and writing a fabulous Texas-themed zombie novel. I decided to take a break to do this week's challenge, <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/06/12/flash-fiction-challenge-the-dead-body/">The Dead Body,</a> which involves a dead body in the very first paragraph. So, without further ado, here's my morbid tale. <br />
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<b><u>Some Things, Once Smelled, Can Never Be Unsmelled</u></b></div>
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A barely putrescent corpse, yellow and grey and crawling with maggots, lay on the cold cement of an abandoned basement. Its inanimate body seemed at home here, having already been given over to the darkness. Cockroaches, flies, and spiders had taken over, the only signs of life in an otherwise lifeless place. </div>
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Cobwebs stretched from the ceiling to the rotting, abandoned furniture that had long been reduced to rusted, moldy pieces of cushion and wood that, along with the decaying human body, served as a collective buffet for the creatures that lived here.</div>
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The smell that overwhelmed the room and seeped into every porous bit of material was a powerful mix of copper, rot, and a hint of sweetness that could inspire nausea in the strongest of stomachs. </div>
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A real estate agent named Carla gagged upon entering this room, her indulgent lunch from Panera Bread preparing to make an encore presentation to the world. The creamy, golden yellow soup of broccoli and cheese made a grand exit in the most explosive projectile manner, mixed with pieces of lightly toasted (now soggy) ciabatta bread, thin-sliced lean roast beef, and a wonderfully nutty artesian Swiss cheese.</div>
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Carla doubled over, her throat and nostrils burning intensely from the stomach acid that came up. She grabbed the rail and tried to take the next step down. Her Louis Vuitton heel hit a part of the step made slippery by the putrid sludge that had just erupted from her mouth. </div>
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As she lost her footing and grabbed on to the rail, it ripped away from the wall. She fell backwards, and in trying to catch herself, sprained her right wrist as she tumbled to the floor.</div>
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She looked up, her Nordstrom St. John Collection royal blue shift dress torn and covered in vomit and a thick layer of dust -- this room had about thirty layers of it on any given surface. She tried to stand up, and her left ankle collapsed underneath her as she screamed in pain. She looked down to see her ankle, swollen and misshapen, and a deep shade of purple. </div>
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Carla closed her eyes and tried not to panic. She took deep breaths and calmed her mind. She looked around for her cellphone.</div>
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<i>It must have fallen off of me when I fell down the stairs, </i>she thought. She forced herself to stand up, using the bookcase behind her to keep her balance. This bookcase was not bolted to the wall, and quickly came crashing down on her. A cockroach that was crawling across the top shelf fell onto her face, then quickly scurried off.</div>
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She screamed, and shook her head in a panic. Once the bug was gone, she closed her eyes and shuddered, disgusted. She kept her eyes shut and took deep breaths to remain calm. She envisioned a beach with white sands on a sunny day, matching the rhythm of her breath to the imaginary tide that rolled in and out. </div>
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Last week, this house seemed like such a good deal. She bought it at auction for a fraction of what she planned to sell it for. Including the basement, there were three stories of space ready to be remodeled. She had yet to have it inspected; she just wanted to look around and see what she was dealing with.</div>
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Carla tried to push the bookcase off of herself, but it was too heavy. She forgot that she had sprained her wrist, until she tried to use it and it hurt like hell. She groaned with pain.</div>
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She blinked back tears as she looked around the room, and finally located her cell phone. It was just a few feet out of reach. As she tried to stretch, to pull herself out from under the bookcase, she saw what was just beyond it, and what was the source of the awful smell that caused her to lose her lunch in the first place.</div>
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The cell phone was next to the hand of a dead body that was buzzing with flies. Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed to be mocking her, with its hollow eyes and a smug smile that stretched across its dead face. </div>
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She couldn't reach the cell phone, but if that corpse could just come back to life, it could call someone for help. She was almost desperate enough to ask it.</div>
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<i>No, that's nonsense, </i>she thought. <i>Keep yourself together, girl! There has to be a way out of this!</i></div>
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<i> </i>If she couldn't get help, then who would find her? No one knew she was here. On a whim, she had stopped by to check out her new flip house after her afternoon appointment had cancelled. <br />
She wondered how long it would take for anyone to find her body. If she didn't make it out of here alive, the office would simply assume she quit, and replace her.</div>
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She was single; the only one who would notice her absence at home was Melisandra, her Maine Coon. She hoped her landlord would come by to check in on her, and rescue the cat before she starved to death.<br />
Carla closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Suddenly, she could feel a huge spider crawling up her leg. Unable to move, she started to panic. <br />
Vain attempts to get herself out from under the bookcase only resulted in more pain. And the only ones who could hear her screams were the creatures that would soon feast on her flesh.<br />
A new dawn, a new day. The sun was bright and shining, illuminating a beautiful beach, covered with white sand that was gracefully kissed by clear blue water. But none of that mirthful sun made it into the dark, damp basement, where a skeleton sat within reach of a cell phone. It stared with unblinking eyes at a barely putrescent corpse trapped underneath a bookcase, yellow and grey and crawling with maggots.</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-34336851311915855462015-05-22T08:40:00.000-07:002015-05-22T08:46:44.710-07:00Toonces' Last Wild RideThis week's Flash Fiction Challenge is about <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/05/15/flash-fiction-challenge-the-car-chase/">car races</a>, so naturally I had to go off the beaten (and tire-tread laden) path. (Wayyy the fuck off.) Please do enjoy.<br />
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<b><u>Toonces Last Wild Ride</u></b></div>
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He was at the end of his nine lives. And they had all been good ones.</div>
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Toonces, the cat who was world-renowned for his unique driving ability, was reflecting on his former lives. All the female cats he loved, his owners who were entirely too trusting, and the time he went full-rebel and had to serve time in the slammer.</div>
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And then, there was Spunky, his old rival. He never knew what happened to Spunky. One day, Toonces was enjoying a spirited game of table tennis with Spunky, and then, he just left and never came back. His owners wouldn't tell him where he was, either.</div>
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Toonces had driven over many cliffs in his former lives. And they were all spectacular.</div>
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His owners, God rest their souls, died a few years ago. Toonces ran away after he saw them being removed from the house. He didn't know what would happen to him if the authorities found him in that house, what with his arrest record and all.</div>
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Alone, he walked the streets at night. He followed the smell of warm food wafting behind restaurants. Toonces caught the rats and birds that wandered in the alleyways. He even found a friend who fed him every night.<br />
The Old Lady was a kind and loving woman. She would put out warm milk and cat food out every night to make sure he didn't go hungry.</div>
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Even though he no longer lived under a roof, Toonces lived like a king. Every need the beautiful black and white Tabby had was seen to by The Old Lady. She would even let him in during nights that were cold or extremely wet. He would always be gone by morning, though. He was done living the domestic life.</div>
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Toonces was enjoying things as they were, until one fateful night. He walked down 6th Street in the early evening, as he always did, and smelled that something was terribly wrong.</div>
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He crept up to The Old Lady's doorway, and saw her lying in a pool of blood in her own living room. Death had already taken her in his final, cold embrace. Toonces lowered his head in respect for his one and only friend.</div>
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Suddenly, he heard a crash in one of the back rooms. He slinked inside to investigate further, and followed the source of the noise.</div>
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Two large men dressed in black were rifling through her things. They didn't belong there. He recognized the smell -- he had smelled them on The Old Lady's body as she lay dead in the other room. They were her killers.</div>
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Toonces hid, watching The Intruders. He knew he needed to avenge The Old Lady. And he knew exactly how.</div>
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He followed the men as they snuck out of the house. Creeping along the rain gutters outside, Toonces could hear them bragging in the alleyway a few blocks away as he grew closer.</div>
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"Man, that old bitch was loaded!"</div>
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"Wait 'til we cash this shit in! We's gon' be rich! I don't know 'bout you, but I'm gon' git turnt up tonight!"</div>
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<i>The only "turning up" this bastard is gonna do is "turning up" dead, </i>Toonces thought to himself as his eyes shifted from left to right, surveying the area.</div>
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A 2015 Ford Cobra, jet black with lime green leather interior, pulled up to let The Intruders in. The driver laughed as they told him about The Old Lady.<br />
As the car started to peel off, a beer bottle hit the windshield, causing a small crack on the passenger side.<br />
"What the fuck!" The driver screamed as he slammed on the breaks, put the car in park, and stepped out fully prepared for a fight. "Brad, if that's you, you better come out and face me, motherfucker! I'm gettin' real sick of your shit, fool!"<br />
Toonces pounced. With his jagged, untrimmed claws, he slit open the driver's jugular vein. The driver screamed and fell to the ground as blood spurted from his neck.<br />
The Intruders were too busy smoking a joint in the car and laughing at each others' jokes to notice what happened. It wasn't until Toonces started driving the car, erratically, that The Intruders noticed anything was off.<br />
"Yo, Andy! Where'd the fuck you learn how to drive? You been drinking or somethin'?"<br />
Toonces turned around to look at the pothead murderers, a menacing gleam in his eye.<br />
The Intruders suddenly sobered up and screamed in mutual panic.<br />
"What the fuck?!? What the fucking fuck?"<br />
A knowing smile crept across Toonces' face. It was like all his previous lives had been a dress rehearsal for this one. This was the one that really counted. It was time for Toonces to meet his destiny.<br />
He pushed a brick onto the gas pedal and sailed toward the edge of the neighborhood. Dodging cars and pedestrians, he sped through red lights and stop signs alike. <br />
A squad car turned on its lights and tailed the Cobra. Toonces made no attempt to slow down.<br />
"Slow down and pull off the road. This is the police," a loudspeaker blared. <br />
But Toonces didn't give a fuck. <br />
More squad cars joined in the chase. Toonces swerved through a busy intersection, barely dodging an 18-wheeler. The police car directly behind him was not so lucky, colliding into the truck at 85 miles per hour, demolishing the cars powerful chassis. The other squad cars behind it had to swerve to avoid hitting it. One ran into a nearby storefront, another slammed into a young couple on the crosswalk.<br />
Another squad car made it around and through the madness, and hightailed it for the runaway car.<br />
Toonces couldn't look back. He had to keep going toward his fate. <br />
He turned onto the road leading to his destination. The street ended at the edge of town, right before a sharp cliff. <br />
The Intruders were begging for their lives.<br />
"Please, don't kill us! We'll give you anything!"<br />
"Yeah, we got diamonds and shit! We'll give you whatever you want!"<br />
Toonces didn't have any need for diamonds, and their pleas only managed to disgust him. Begging was for dogs.<br />
Racing past a trailer park, Toonces found a NOS button under the armrest. Accelerating to a blinding speed, the car clumsily careened toward the end of the street.<br />
Toonces could barely keep the powerful car on the road. It fishtailed and burst through a barricade at the end of the street. Shards of orange and white-colored wood went flying. A construction sign that read, "Dead End," made a few aerial flips before it finally landed next to the rotting remains of an armadillo carcass.<br />
"Damn," said a man enjoying a beer outside his trailer home. He and his friend got a good look at the driver and his panicking passengers right before the NOS kicked in. "That cat can drive!"</div>
<div>
"Yes, he can," his friend replied, spitting tobacco juice into his empty beer can as the car plummeted over the cliff and exploded into a ball of fire.<br />
"But not very well."</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-36443077968970521802015-05-12T12:38:00.001-07:002015-05-12T12:45:21.574-07:00The Rising Cost of Curiosity<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> This week's flash fiction is another clashing of subgenres. The Random Number Generator selected Techno Thriller Body Horror for me! I decided to make it as freaky as possible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><u>The Rising Cost of Curiosity</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "I can only hope this message makes its way to you," he said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> It was the first time in three months Lila had seen Rick. She had all but given up on finding him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> His was the kind of job you could never discuss. She wasn't supposed to know Rick's "trips to meet with clients" were, in fact, secret government missions. (She never let him know that she knew.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> He would sometimes leave without notice on clandestine missions, but he would have a message of some kind delivered to her within a week so she knew he was all right, claiming there was a client emergency of some sort.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> This time was different. She knew from the first day he was gone. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> There were little telltale signs that indicated things were not like before, or the time before that, or the many other times. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> And this video message was full confirmation. Rick explained what his real job was, and (in details she could never repeat) that he was on a rescue mission for a Canadian dignitary who had visited North Korea to speak with the country's leaders about opening up the lines of communication between them and the Western world. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> And then, he was never seen or heard from again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Rick led the mission, but he didn't know when he would be back or what was going on. Once he was inside the border, he said, he saw things he never imagined. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> And that was it. The video ended, and Lila was left wondering what he was trying to tell her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> She knew someone out there didn't want her to see this video. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> But she had connections, and hacking skills that were well-above average. One of the connections, a fellow hacker known as Pazuzu MacNeil, had procured and sent Rick's message.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Lila took a deep breath and steadied herself. She knew what she would have to do.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> She gathered her things and prepared to leave. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> After booking her flight to South Korea, she studied the borders on Google Earth to determine the best place to sneak in to the North. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Right before she left the house, Lila received another message from Pazuzu. This time, he said, it was the full video. But she needed to sit down for this one. It wouldn't be easy to watch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> She skipped past the part she had already seen, and saw something she was completely unprepared for. Footage of videos taken inside a secret government base. The dignitary was strapped to a table, twitching uncontrollably. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> After doctors placed him under sedation, they cut into his skull and removed pieces of brain. Lila gasped as she saw the man awaken during surgery, screaming. More footage revealed the next experiment: The doctors cut off his right leg. Each video clip showed more and more body parts being removed, until the man was finally put down. In the final stages, he had some strange boils on his face that burst, splattering all over the doctors. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The protective suits worn by the doctors were no match for the infectious fluids that seeped through to their skin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> More footage showed the newly infected doctors strapped down to tables, this time, real hazmat suits were worn by the new group of attending doctors.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "I don't know how long I'll be gone, or what the hell is going on here. If I never see you again, please remember that I love you, and that you were the best part of my entire life," Rick said, right before military police broke down the door and dragged him away. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The screen went blank. End of message.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I have to find out what happened, Lila thought. I have to find out where the fuck he is.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> On her long flight across the Pacific, Lila tried to figure out what could have happened. Why did they take the dignitary? Did the infected doctors live? And where did they take my husband?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Utilizing her route and her trusty PMHD (a portable motion and body heat detector designed to sense any humans approaching within a 50-yard radius), she crept across the border, past the guards and into safety.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Lila used her GPS tracker to find her husband. (She implanted a tiny chip into the base of his neck one night after serving up a GHB-infused cocktail.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> He was inside the government base, and she had to find him before he met the same fate as the dignitary. She crept inside, and all her gadgets went dead. Damn, she thought, they must have a jammer in the building. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> She crept along the wall, listening carefully for any signs of other people. She crouched down to avoid being seen through a window, and her GPS fell, making a huge racket as it bounced several times off the floor before settling in the other side of the hallway. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The next thing Lila saw as she looked up was an incredibly smug face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Lila was strapped down to a chair as men in white coats fired questions at her and examined her belongings. They were able to ascertain who she was, and who her husband was.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "You must be Lila," said a short man wearing an officer's hat. "I'm afraid you're too late to see Rick in person. I'm afraid this will be the best we can do."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> He turned her chair around so she could view a large screen. It showed her husband getting beaten by men in uniforms as they interrogated him. Finally, a doctor entered the room carrying a large syringe. The men held Rick down as the doctor injected him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO WITH MY HUSBAND," Lila screamed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "We named it Namguhng's Disease after our first major casualty. Dr. Namguhng was an accomplished scientist and a man of honor. He loved his country, and in the end, sacrificed himself for a great cause."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Lila stared in disbelief. "A great cause?!? What cause is that?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "For the glory and praise of our supreme leader, "Kahn Jung XXVX! Kahn dreamed that it was North Korea's destiny to become the world's reigning superpower. In order to fulfill our destiny, we must create a weapon unlike anything the world has ever seen!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> He explained to Lila how they designed a supervirus powerful enough to wipe out entire nations within days of infection. However, they didn't anticipate the strength of the virus. They couldn't contain it, and Namguhng's Disease began to spread among the people.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Deaths caused by this disease were swift and terrifying. The beginning stage, a barely noticeable tremor in the hands, was something the average person could easily mistake for excess caffeine or low blood sugar.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Blepharospasm, or rapidly twitching eyes, would follow. Then, throughout the body, blood vessels would contract and tighten, causing wet gangrene and rapid necrosis. The pain suffered by the infected was excruciating.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> But the most frightening part was how the disease spread. Blisters filled with pus and blood would explode, infecting all nearby persons upon contact. The acidic pus (which the doctors learned the hard way) could seep through any pores in one's clothing, so all those within the nearby vicinity of the infected must wear proper hazmat suits, or risk infection.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "We have been very careful to keep this disease contained," the man explained. "However, a few citizens have exhibited signs. Anyone suspected of having the disease is immediately transported to the treatment facility."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "So," Lila said, "You have a cure?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "Unfortunately, no. We thought we did. We infected a group of monkeys, and successfully created an antivirus to combat the disease. However, it did not work on humans."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "So, now you're experimenting on the infected humans to find a cure?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "We had no other choice," the man answered. "We have never seen anything like this. The disease spreads so rapidly, and every time we think we're getting closer to a cure, it evolves. Still, we can't risk news of our experiments getting out to the rest of the world. We have to keep our biological weapon a secret. Our work is too important."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "You still haven't told me what the fuck you did with my husband," Lila said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "You see, we have to use every opportunity we can to find a cure. And intruders make the best lab rats, don't you think?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> He played a new video that showed Rick strapped to the table, his infection in the latter stages. His hands and feet were black, his skin covered with lesions. He writhed in pain as the doctors prepared to amputate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Lila turned her head and shut her eyes as Rick screamed in excruciating pain. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "You bastards," she whispered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "Yes, Lila. We are bastards," the man declared with a smug expression. "And you are another intruder."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Lila lowered her eyes and shuddered. She knew exactly what would come next.</span>Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-6689114770578585352015-05-01T11:46:00.001-07:002015-05-01T18:05:37.386-07:00X Meets Y AgainThis week's <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/04/24/flash-fiction-challenge-its-x-meets-y-again/">Flash Fiction Challenge</a> is to create a mash-up of two different things, using a <a href="https://www.random.org/">Random Number Generator.</a> The RNG gods are smiling on me today; I have the honor of presenting Terminator meets Lord of the Flies (but not in the literal sense -- I created my own characters and setting). <br />
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<b><u>The Horrific Things One Sometimes Encounters While On an Island Paradise</u></b></div>
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<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
Zach's parents were taking him on a cruise to the Bahamas to celebrate his grades <i>and </i>his 14th birthday. He couldn't wait.<br />
The cruise started off well enough with buffets and pools with waterslides. He even met Leslie, the prettiest girl he'd ever known. She asked him to come to the teen club with her.<br />
Zach and Leslie had a blast at the exclusive youth club, chatting and watching other kids play video games. <br />
That's when things went horribly wrong. <br />
"Hey, guys," the cruise staff member said. "I just wanted to give you a heads up -- you might feel the ship rock a little. There's an unexpected storm outside. But <i>don't worry! </i> We've got everything under control!"<br />
The teens shrugged, then went about their playtime. The boat started rocking more and more violently. Leslie and Zach held on to each other, terrified of what would happen next as they crouched against the wall. Everything went dark, and that's when the panic really began. The ship was rolling around, tossing everything around (except the furniture, which was thoughtfully bolted down).<br />
The next thing Zach remembered was waking up on a beach. He looked around and found Leslie draped over the broken remains of a chair.<br />
She started coughing and spitting sea water. He ran to help her.<br />
"Hey! Are you OK?"<br />
"I think," she rasped between wheezes. "What happened?"<br />
"A storm hit us. Hard. The last thing I remember," Zach said as he helped her steady herself," is the ship rocking back and forth. Stuff was flying everywhere, and everyone was tumbling all over the place. There was a lot of blood."<br />
"OHMYGOD," Leslie gasped. "Where are my parents?!? Where are <i>your</i> parents?!?"<br />
"I don't know," Zach admitted. "You're the only other person I've seen since I woke up on this beach."<br />
"Where are we, anyway? What is this place?"<br />
"I don't know. Let's see if there's anyone else."<br />
Days passed. Weeks passed. They continued on their search, eating whatever tropical fruit they could find, and catching water in enormous banana leaves to drink.<br />
In mid-afternoon one day, Zach suddenly took off running.<br />
"I think I see someone," he called back. Leslie matched his pace, and the two quickly arrived upon a makeshift encampment comprised of broken pieces from the ship.<br />
As they looked for signs of life, two barrel-chested teen boys stepped in front of them, like underaged bouncers at an oddly themed night club.<br />
"Whoa! Where did you two come from," Zach asked.<br />
"We didn't see either of you on the island -- where did <i>you </i>come from," asked the guard with a bright shock of red hair.<br />
"I'm Zach, and she's Leslie. We came from the other end of the mountain," Zach replied, pointing. <br />
"Oh, of course," the boy said. "We have been searching for survivors, but we haven't covered the entire island yet. There hasn't been any sign of civilization, either. No buildings, no roads, nothing."<br />
He leered at Leslie. "We also didn't know if there were any female survivors anywhere."<br />
Leslie moved closer to Zach.<br />
"Brock will be pleased," the other said with a sardonic grin. "We'll take you to him."<br />
The two guards took Zach and Leslie by the arms and let them further into the camp. <br />
They entered a large tepee made of large metal scraps with an enormous piece of carpet for a door. Salvaged sofas and tables were arranged throughout, and a tall, brawny boy stood in the center, wearing an ill-fitting bellhop's jacket over his bare chest. The guards announced Zach and Leslie's names.<br />
"I'm glad we found more survivors," Brock said, oozing with charm. "The only people who survived that storm, that we've seen at least, were in the teen club tower. It seems the structure protected us while the rest of the ship was destroyed.<br />
"The boys and I have constructed this place to shelter us. You are more than welcome to stay here. The boys are staying in the small tepees you passed on the way here."<br />
He looked Leslie up and down. <br />
"<i>You </i>can stay with me tonight," Brock said to the trembling ingenue. "I could really use some female company."<br />
Zach puffed his chest out, placing himself between Brock and Leslie. <br />
"I don't think she wants to do that."<br />
"<i>I </i>don't remember offering that as a choice," Brock sneered. A dark pall came over his face as he stood toe-to-toe with Zach. <br />
As Leslie backed away toward the door, the guards grabbed her. <br />
"What's wrong, Leslie? Do you think you're too good for us," Brock oozed. <br />
"Let go of me!"<br />
One of the guards put a hand over her mouth, whispering for her to relax as she struggled to get away.<br />
Zach pushed Brock away, then charged toward the guards. <br />
"One step closer and we kill her, right here."<br />
One of the guards kissed her cheek, sneering arrogantly at Zach.<br />
"Hey, I know you're all eager to get to know Leslie," Zach said, "but I found her first. I'm willing to share her, <i>after </i>tonight."<br />
Leslie looked at Zach with total surprise.<br />
"All I'm asking for is tonight. If I hadn't saved her, she wouldn't even be here."<br />
After a moment, Brock reluctantly nodded, and the guards released Leslie. <br />
"You can sleep in the mud hut, but after tonight, she's mine," Brock sneered.<br />
Leslie sighed with relief, and took Zach's hand as they slowly walked toward the door.<br />
"One more thing," Brock said.<br />
The two froze, nervously awaiting Zach's next words.<br />
"We want a show. You have to keep the doors and windows open so we can see everything that's going on. There isn't any porn out here, and my guys are getting a little stir-crazy."<br />
Leslie and Zach exchanged looks of apprehension, but he knew there would be no way around it. Leslie, nodded, then lowered her eyes.<br />
"It's a deal," Zach said. <br />
The guards showed them to the hut, and they eagerly sat down on the first comfortable sofa they had seen since the ship capsized.<br />
"Leslie," Zach said with sincerity in his eyes. "I know this isn't exactly what you would have wanted, but I promise I'll take care of you. I won't let them hurt you."<br />
The boys started gathering outside. Zach looked out and counted, there were about 12 of them, all armed and lecherous. He had no hope of fighting them. He and Leslie would have to escape after the rest of the camp was asleep.<br />
"I've never done this," she whispered.<br />
"It's OK, I haven't either."<br />
He smiled shyly, then gently pulled Leslie in for a kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his. The vulgar audience cheered, then started yelling explicit instructions, which Zach completely ignored.<br />
"Just focus on me. I'll get us out of here tonight," Zach whispered. "In the meantime, I'll try not to hurt you."<br />
Leslie nodded, then slowly took off her clothes. More cheers. She kept her eyes on Zach, who disrobed quickly, then held Leslie close. He kissed her passionately and lowered her down to the couch, ignoring the crude onlookers. For now, nothing else in the world existed. It was just Zach and Leslie; everything else fell away.<br />
Zach tried as much as he could to keep his promise to be gentle as he made love to her. It was over entirely too soon. <br />
Zach spooned Leslie, whispering his plans of escape as he kissed her neck. "I know this is scary, but I promise I'll get us out of here."<br />
Leslie nodded.<br />
Her quiet sobs eventually gave way to slumber. Zach stayed awake, strategizing a way to get out. A different set of guards watched the camp by night. <br />
Zach crept up behind one guard as the other walked the perimeter. He threw him to the ground, grabbed a huge rock and bashed the guard's head in, blood spattering in all directions. <br />
The other guard was making his way back. Zach hid behind a tree, holding the rock with both hands. The guard saw the feet of his friend lying supine on the ground.<br />
"Hey, wake up!"<br />
The guard moved closer to his friend, trying to wake him. It wasn't long before he saw what remained of the head. Zach prepared to deliver the same fate met by the other guard. <br />
What Zach didn't bargain for was a fallen tree branch lying in the darkness, waiting to be tripped over. Which he did. <br />
Zach fell head first toward the ground, hitting his head on the rock. He blacked out.<br />
He opened his eyes to see the boys gathered around Leslie. She was naked and tied to a tree, muffled sobs barely escaping her gagged mouth. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes met Zach, silently begging him for help.<br />
He struggled against the cords that bound his hands and feet. He, too, was gagged. The boys noticed him squirming, and started mocking him. He watched in helpless despair as Brock approached Leslie and pinched her nipples, licking her face as he looked at Zach with perverse glee.<br />
Suddenly, an explosive blast pierced through the camp. Brock stood in front of Leslie, protecting his new toy. Zach looked up to see the tree Leslie was tied to was knocked down, as Brock lay a in bloody mess.<br />
Zach looked up to see a man with a huge shotgun -- <i>wait, that couldn't be a man, </i>he thought; pieces of flesh were peeled back to reveal a metal skeleton. The boys ran toward the intruder in vain attempts to stop him. Spears that pierced his skin halted as they hit the metal beneath. The intruder staked the offending camp members. Another boy ran at him with a knife. The robot reached through the boy's chest and pulled out his still-beating heart, seconds before his lifeless body collapsed.<br />
Zach closed his eyes and prepared himself for his own certain death. <br />
A tap on his shoulder caused him to jolt and turn around. It was Leslie, wearing Brock's jacket over her otherwise naked body. She cut through the rope, freeing him.<br />
"<i>Come on, Zach,"</i> she whispered. "<i>Let's GO!"</i><br />
<i> "Did they hurt you," </i>Zach whispered.<br />
"<i>No, but they were about to," </i>she replied.<br />
<i> </i>He took her hand and they ran as fast as they could, away from the living nightmares.<br />
They crashed right into another robot disguised as a human. It stood unfazed as Zach and Leslie both stumbled back, falling to the ground. He extended his hands to help them up.<br />
"Come with me if you want to live."<br />
The good robot lifted his gun toward the killer robot and fired. The other robot was knocked off his feet, artificial flesh melting off metal skeleton. The good robot took them to a mountain with a very narrow pathway to the top, and a clear view of any intruders. A large boulder provided a hiding place, should the need arise.<br />
That night they set up camp. The good robot explained everything. It and the other robot are called "Terminators," created by a company in the future called "Skynet." Terminators are used to enslave mankind as artificial intelligence takes over the planet.<br />
What everyone thought was a storm was actually a rupture in the fabric of space and time, caused by the other Terminator, a "Z" series model. Its mission was to kill Zach and Leslie, because their child would grow up to lead mankind's revolution against the machines, and be the savior of all humanity. <br />
The good Terminator, a "T-800" model, followed the Z series in the same rift, so as to not draw attention. It told had scanned Leslie's body and determined she had already been impregnated.<br />
The T-800 would build a boat to get Zach and Leslie to safety the next day, and he assured the two he would keep guard overnight.<br />
Zach and Leslie kissed, and made love for the second time before they fell asleep in each other's arms. <br />
The next morning, they woke up to the sounds of the T-800 assembling a boat on the beach below. They couldn't wait to get back to civilization and away from the nightmares. It wasn't long before the boat was finished.<br />
Before they left the island, Leslie needed to use the bathroom. <br />
"I'll go with you," Zach said. He didn't want to risk her and the baby getting hurt.<br />
As they returned to the boat and the T-800, they could tell something wasn't right. They emerged from the foliage to see a few dead bodies strewn around on the beach, and the T-800's head severed from his body. Apparently, there were other survivors from last night's attack.<br />
The daytime guards and two other boys surrounded Zach and Leslie. <br />
"You thought you were going to leave us, didn't you?" The redheaded guard sneered.<br />
The other boys were circling Leslie like hyenas with a weak gazelle. <br />
A bullet pierced the redhead's skull. He fell to the ground.<br />
The T-800's body was still moving, and still determined to carry out its mission to protect Zach and Leslie. Just then, the Z model emerged, ready to collect his bounty.<br />
Zach punched one of the boys encircling Leslie as the others stood in confusion and shock. He took her by the hand, and they ran back to the mountain, leaving behind a cacophony of terrified screams.<br />
They held each other, trembling and crying at the mountain top.<br />
"I promised I would get us out of here, and I will do everything I can to uphold that promise, Leslie," Zach assured as he stroked her hair. "I love you, Leslie."<br />
"I love you too, Zach," Leslie said, then kissed him, holding on for dear life.<br />
Their intimate moment was over just as soon as it began. Zach could sense something coming.<br />
He motioned for Leslie to crouch down as he looked over the edge. The Z model's hands had morphed into hooks, and he was climbing up the side of the mountain. Zach moved to the other side of the boulder, using all his adrenaline-fueled strength to protect his new family. <br />
He pushed it off the side, and watched it knock the Z model off the mountain, then crush it on the ground below. Zach looked at Leslie with relief. He couldn't believe it was over. Now, they could finally leave.<br />
Leslie's eyes fixed on his with equal parts love and eagerness for the life they would share. Her expression quickly changed to complete terror. Zach opened his mouth, about to ask what it was, before he felt a presence behind him.<br />
It was the Terminator. It had liquefied itself on the way down, and survived being flattened by the boulder. Leslie screamed in horror as its hand morphed into an icepick and ran through Zach's chest.<br />
Leslie pulled something out of her pocket the T-800 gave to her the night before. <br />
"Your priority is to protect the child growing inside you," it had told her. "The fate of mankind is in your hands."<br />
Leslie's hands shook as she realized what the token was. The polyurethane-encased red button on the top was a detonator. <br />
She looked at Zach, who was fighting for his life. The killing machine had him in its grip, and would soon take Leslie's life and that of her child, if she didn't act fast.<br />
Looking into the eyes of her first love, Leslie whispered, "<i>I love you, Zach. I'll never forget you</i>."<br />
Zach understood. A tear ran down his cheek as he silently said goodbye.<br />
Leslie pushed the button, shoved the device into Zach's mouth and pushed him and the Terminator off the cliff. The mountain shook as he and the Terminator exploded in mid-air. Leslie dodged the flaming projectile that flew toward her head. <br />
Fire spread quickly through the trees, too quickly for her to stop it. It would be a matter of time before the entire island was engulfed. She climbed down the mountain to see what remained of the boat. Miraculously, it was intact. <br />
Rowing away from the island inferno, Leslie knew this was just the beginning of a war that was soon to come.Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-11051000570117668822015-04-24T00:50:00.000-07:002015-04-24T01:08:47.727-07:00The Things They Forgot to Mention in Puberty Class This week's <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/04/17/flash-fiction-challenge-pick-an-opening-sentence-and-go/">Flash Fiction Challenge</a> was to write a 2,000-word story based on another writer's sentence. There were a lot to choose from, but ultimately, I chose one from mannixk that sparked my interest the most. WARNING: Potential triggers. Also, some parts may even make your eyes bleed -- I made full use of this <a href="http://transl8it.com/">English-to-text-lingo translator </a>for realism.<br />
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<b><u>The Things They Forgot to Mention in Puberty Class</u></b></div>
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On the morning of her thirteenth birthday, the whites of her eyes turned inky black. She sat in her bed, looking around her hot-pink bedroom walls.<br />
Suddenly, in a very weird way, it had become abundantly clear to Jessica that her childhood had ended.<br />
Under the puffy, multicolored floral comforter that brightened up her sunny room, she felt something ... wet! <br />
She threw her snuggly, giant-sized Tigger across the room and jerked the covers off of herself. <br />
Her bright orange bedsheets were soaked with fresh blood. ... And so were her Spongebob Squarepants pajama shorts. ... And her favorite white panties with purple polka dots. ... As well as her inner thighs -- her <i>perfect</i> inner thighs! <br />
They were all ruined! It was so freakin' gross!<br />
She was most upset about her blood-smeared thighs. She had worked so freakin' hard to achieve that thigh gap that came so easily to all the other girls. She only kept down one meal a week, and it had to be no more than 200 calories. No cute guy would ever want <i>anything</i> to do with her if she had nasty, cottage cheese thighs. <br />
And to see all her hard work covered in menses was like seeing a dog take a piss on an artist's masterpiece<i>. </i>She felt so <i>dirty. </i>She had to become clean again.<br />
Jessica jumped out of bed and, ripping all of her disgusting clothes off, she quickly ran to the shower to cleanse herself of the nastiness that had practically gushed out of her body the night before.<br />
She scrubbed herself vigorously, as usual, putting extra effort this time on her thighs. She had to <i>make sure</i> every bit of the menstrual fluid was off of her.<br />
Her family wasn't there; they went on a camping trip without her. She had been fighting with them <i>a lot</i> the week before. <br />
Jessica sank to the shower floor and cried as she thought about how her bitchy step-mother, Jackie, told her they were leaving her behind because no one in the family wanted to be around her. On her fucking birthday weekend! Jackie cancelled the party she'd been planning for weeks, and told her they'd all go out to celebrate the next weekend, but <i>only</i> if Jessica could behave herself that following week. Her dad felt bad for her, and gave her his credit card so she could treat herself.<br />
She closed her eyes as the warm water poured over her alabaster skin, drenching her raven black hair. Meanwhile, the same dark magic that obscured the whites of her eyes had progressed, changing her irises from hazel green to jet black, unbeknownst to their owner. Jessica just sat for a minute, hugging her knees tight to her chest to stop her stomach from growling.<br />
<i>I can't eat today</i>, she thought. <i>I have to be strong. </i>It wouldn't be time to eat for at least three more days.<br />
<i> </i>Jessica stepped out of the shower and toweled off. Thankfully, her mother had plenty of tampons, and she learned in Puberty Class how to use them. She remembered back to the illustrations and teacher's instructions: Relax. Squat. Insert slowly. <br />
Still, it hurt a little going in. She took a deep breath and pushed it in the rest of the way. She hated the way it felt: this scratchy cylinder of absorbent fibers, so alien in her body.<br />
She wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror to get a good look at herself. Her eyes looked really different. She leaned in closer to get a better look. They were entirely black. It was actually ... cool! <i>I don't know how or what the fuck happened, but this looks really hot, </i>she thought. She smiled at herself, thinking about how much the other girls in school would envy her. Suddenly, her stomach growled loudly in an annoying disruption to her self admiration.<br />
<i> </i>To get her mind off of eating, she decided to clean and redecorate her room. It was time to leave all that little girl shit behind. She had been meaning to do this for a long time, and she wasn't going to put it off any longer.<br />
She grabbed the biggest garbage bag she could find, then threw her bloodstained comforter, sheets, and clothes away. She grabbed everything else that made it look like a little kid's room. The butterfly decals on the wall, the flower-shaped rug, the Care Bear collection on the shelves. Everything had to go.<br />
She texted Serena, her bestie -- who happened to be South Dakota's minimum driving age at 14 1/2, <i>and </i>have the ultimate teenage bragging rights with her very own Cadillac Escalade. <br />
"hA bitch, got NE plans 2day?"<br />
"Not unLS U count masturbating vigorously 2 pix of Ryan Gosling."<br />
"SRSLY?!? U filthy whore!!!"<br />
"U jst don't undRstNd our luv, cuz you're jst a nasty butt slut!"<br />
"LOL! feck u! cum over alredi! I wnt 2 go shopping!"<br />
"k. b rght ther."<br />
Jessica finished getting ready, applying her eyeliner extra thick with a wing at the tip to accentuate her new look. She admired herself in the full-length mirror, nodding approvingly at how her super tiny dress accentuated her super tiny waist. She especially loved the way her eyes looked, and hoped Lance would notice.<br />
The doorbell rang, interrupting her train of thought. Jessica let Serena in, and showed her the new look.<br />
"Your eyes are all black! Are those contacts?"<br />
"Nope. I woke up like this."<br />
"<i>Seriously?!?"</i><br />
<i>"</i>Seriously."<br />
"Bitchin!"<br />
"So, I just got my first period today. How's that for a birthday present?"<br />
"Congrats, you're finally blossoming into a young lady!"<br />
Jessica threw a decorative pillow at Serena.<br />
"Fuck off! You sound just like that Puberty Class teacher!" <br />
They headed off to the mall to shop for new clothes, and some new digs for Jessica's room. And, just as predicted, Lance was there.<br />
He was always exactly wherever she was, like clockwork, every weekend. And at school, he and his friends spent their free time following Jessica and her friends around. They watched her every move, and whenever she looked back, they made no attempt to look like they were doing anything else. Lance never really talked to her; he just leered at her from across the room.<br />
(To most girls, this would be either really annoying, or creepy, or both. But Jessica, a textbook narcissist, took this as the ultimate compliment. It was like she had a fan club, and he was the president.)<br />
After the desired decorations for her room were acquired, and visits to the requisite tweenage specialty stores were made, Jessica made a point to walk right past Lance and his friends, just to taunt them. She pretended not to notice them, while fully aware of their gawking eyes.<br />
Normally, she and Serena would keep walking, then laugh at the dorks once they were out of earshot. But today was different. Very different. <br />
She stopped suddenly, then turned to face him and, with a smile, greeted him for the first time in his life.<br />
"Hey, don't we have Chem class together?"<br />
Lance stood for a moment like a deer in headlights. He gathered himself enough to muster a logical answer to the goddess' question. He wasn't sure why, but she somehow looked even more beautiful than normal.<br />
"Yes. I sit behind you."<br />
Jessica smiled. If Picasso had a brilliant gift for painting, she had the same level of brilliance in wrapping barely pubescent boys around her little finger. <br />
"Serena and I are celebrating my birthday today, because my family's out of town. I have the house to myself. All weekend."<br />
She lingered on the last two words just a little, to make sure Lance got the point.<br />
"Well, ummm, I don't have any plans for the rest of the day."<br />
His friends echoed the sentiment, responding in a chorus of teenage awkwardness.<br />
She exchanged numbers with Lance, looked him in the eye and said, "I'll see you at 5! You can bring your friends, if you want!"<br />
Lance looked as if he had just won the lottery. His excitement betrayed all efforts to look cool for the goddess and her friend. He would gladly become her acolyte, even if it was only for one night.<br />
When the got back to her house, Jessica and Serena spent the next few hours painting and redecorating the bedroom. <br />
Later that night, Lance and his friends arrived. Jessica ordered pizza (which she herself would not touch), and Serena's had snuck a few liquor bottles from her parents' house. <br />
They all talked excitedly, and Lance caught Jessica eyeing him hungrily. She walked toward him, eyes focused solely on his. Lance felt the bulge in his pants growing, and lowered his plate in attempt to conceal it.<br />
Jessica grabbed the plate and threw it in the trash in one fowl swoop, eagerly viewing his appreciation of her beauty. She took his hand and led him to her bedroom, walking at a fast pace past all his gawking friends.<br />
She pulled him inside, then slammed the door shut. Taking off her shirt, she revealed two perky breasts, nicely framed by her Victoria's Secret push-up bra, a vision of hot pink satin with scalloped black lace edges and a demure bow in the center. Her matching thong was just a makeout session away from revealing itself.<br />
Lance stood nervously, staring at her chest as if it was a profound puzzle to be solved. Jessica smiled and moved in closer, taking his hands and putting them on her hips. Exhaling, he wrapped his arms around her and began to kiss her, running his hands up and down her back.<br />
Suddenly, he stopped, and backed away. <br />
"What's wrong, Lance? Are you a virgin?"<br />
Lance stammered. "Uh ... n-n-no!"<br />
Jessica grew impatient.<br />
"Then what the fuck?"<br />
"Uh, Jessica? ... Look at your back in the mirror."<br />
Jessica turned on the light, backed up to the dresser mirror, and gasped. Her back looked like something was growing out of it. She had no fucking clue what it was, but she would do something about it later. <br />
"I don't know what that is, but let's not worry about that right now."<br />
"Are you crazy?"<br />
Jessica shook her head, and to get things back on track, took off her bra. That was enough to drive Lance -- or any boy for that matter -- to distraction. <br />
He started to say something, but his hormones intervened and his hands found their way to her breasts. He started kissing Jessica again, and she pulled him close, pressing her body against his.<br />
Hunger pangs started up again as she felt her pulse quicken in time with his. But this time, it wasn't food Jessica was hungry for. <br />
With a quick motion, she grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back. The hunger inside her began to satisfy itself. Lance's weak attempt to call for help came out in a silent scream as his soul was ripped away from his body. Like a discarded locust shell, there was nothing left of him but an empty, lifeless frame.<br />
Jessica released her hold and let him fall to the floor like a rag doll. She tilted her head in curiosity at what remained of her most ardent admirer.<br />
This strange force inside her that had been awakened by her pubescent changes was fueled and strengthened, and ready to complete the transformation. Her canine teeth were pushed out by fangs that begged for flesh to tear into. The raised skin on her back started to break as black feathered wings slowly fanned out to full extension. <br />
Jessica turned to face herself in the mirror and immediately liked what she saw. She touched the fangs, feeling their sharp edges nearly pierce her fingers. She turned to the side, posing, admiring the way her wings accentuated her long legs. <br />
The hunger pangs still lingered, growing increasingly strong and intense. <br />
Flipping her perfectly straight black hair, Jessica headed back out to join the party, eager to be worshipped by the poor souls whom she would soon devour. <br />
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Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-33966637814252018092015-04-04T12:17:00.002-07:002015-04-04T12:17:39.860-07:00Wasp-zilla<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This week, Chuck Wendig wanted us to post a picture (but write about one we didn't post). I hope this one inspires at least one freaky nature-gone-berzerk story. My childhood was filled with sci-fi stories that were inspired by Hitchcock's "The Birds" -- spiders, ants, lemurs, and pretty much anything that could come in contact with radioactive materials and mutate into a giant threat to humanity. Please write something based on this that will fuel my nightmares.</div>
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<br />Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-69133090155008463302015-03-27T08:10:00.000-07:002015-03-27T08:10:47.260-07:00100 Words Only This week's Flash Fiction Challenge, <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/03/20/flash-fiction-challenge-100-words-only/">100 Words Only</a>, is exactly that: the story has to begin and end within 100 words. If writing in journalism has taught me nothing else, it's keeping my shit short and concise. <br />
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<b><u>Max</u></b></div>
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"Eeeeeeewwwww! What's that smell!"</div>
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The little boy ran to his puppy's playpen. Max, a four-week-old pit bull, was his birthday gift. </div>
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The playpen was now filled with puddles that reeked of copper and shit.</div>
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Max was going through hell. His insides burned, his head hurt. He could barely walk. All he could do was lay in excruciating pain, waiting for the next surge of vomit or diarrhea to come. Luckily, there was no more need to wait.</div>
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Death's sweet embrace came as a relief for the poor puppy. His suffering ended quickly, as his steel-grey eyes stared out into nothing.</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-39525761204048387282015-03-20T01:44:00.002-07:002015-03-20T01:44:59.603-07:00Raspberry PunchThis entry is based on the <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/03/13/flash-fiction-challenge-random-cocktail-challenge/">Random Cocktail Challenge</a>. My random cocktail was Raspberry Punch, which I've never ordered, but I'm pretty sure tastes like diabetes. #tanmuchoasucaresnobueno<br />
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<b><u>Raspberry Punch</u></b></div>
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Shelly was not your typical 20-something in New Jersey. She loathed the idiotic tropes from the Jersey Shore, and how everyone outside Jersey expected her to be some bimbo with skin the color of peanut butter who drooled all over muscle-bound shitheads.<br />
Shelly had better things to do than waste her time with these basic bitches. She went out of her way to look different -- from her long, raspberry-colored hair with platinum blonde streaks, to her body piercings and elaborate tattoos. There was no mistaking Shelly for any of these girls. Ever.<br />
She saw them every day at the gym, posing in tiny tank tops and skimpy shorts for the guys. For these girls, the gym wasn't a place to work out, it was a place to flirt and show off all the efforts from their strict adherence to drunkorexia.<br />
For Shelly, however, it wasn't just a gym. It was her church, her sanctuary from a world full of shit. Clad in a baggy, worn-out T-shirt and knee-length basketball shorts, she broke into a brisk jog on the treadmill. After her run, she stepped off, barely even sweating, then headed for the free weights.<br />
She could feel the eyes of the ridiculous <i>guidos</i> on her as she started lifting. They whispered and giggled as she counted her reps. High school may have technically ended three years ago, but these bozos clearly would never grow past that stage.<br />
Under a barrage of barely audible mockery, Shelly could feel her anger starting to boil as she proceeded to her third set. As she slowly lifted and lowered the dumbbells, Chaz, one of the asshats from the clique, came over with a stupid leer on his face.<br />
"Hey, Shelly, I heard you give good head. Is that true?"<br />
"Back the fuck off before I smash these dumbbells into your head, fucker!" Shelly gave him a sideways glare that would melt an iceberg.<br />
Defeated, Chaz went back to his friends as they guffawed at his failure to charm the resident lesbian.<br />
"C'mon, let's go. It's almost happy hour," Leslie told the group. Then, to Shelly: "I like your hair, Shelly! It makes you look like a <i>Troll doll</i>!"<br />
Shelly scowled as she completed her tenth bench press. These assholes never gave up. She had known them since elementary school, and they were the exact same assholes to her back then.<br />
Her childhood pretty much sucked. She was one of the poorest kids in school, and always caught hell for it. She also was painfully shy and socially awkward. <br />
The boys all mocked her constantly. Their favorite "game" was for one of them to come up to her and sarcastically flirt. (Of course, Shelly knew better than to buy this shit. She was constantly reminded of her place in the pecking order, lest she ever forget.) <br />
Then, the perpetrator would yell "psych" and run back to his idiot friends, where they would cackle together like a chorus of mentally disturbed chimpanzees. <br />
Shelly felt helpless and alone. She felt like the most disgusting creature on the planet. She didn't think there was anyone she could talk to about the bullying, so it just continued and progressed over time.<br />
One day, a new guy came on the scene. Blake obviously had no clue about Shelly's status as one of the "untouchables" in school; he sat right next to her on the bus and struck up a conversation. <br />
Shelly had never met anyone like him before. He was the smartest, coolest guy she had ever known. She was head over heels in love. <br />
Blake seemed to know how she felt about him; he would catch her looking at him and smile, looking right at her. <br />
One day, he walked right up to Shelly in the stairwell. He pulled her behind the stairs and started kissing her. <br />
"I really like you, Shelly. Do you like me?"<br />
Shelly was almost shocked.<br />
"Yes, I do."<br />
"Go down on me, Shelly. Please. I really want to be closer to you."<br />
Shelly had never done anything like that. Blake gave her a few pointers, then she knelt down and performed the act. After a few minutes and a lot of moaning, he pulled her head back and released his juices all over her face. <br />
"That's a good look for you, Shelly."<br />
Shelly just sat there in shock.<br />
"Shelly, I really want to go out with you. Will you come to the Homecoming dance with me?"<br />
Shelly just sat in shock at the abruptness and circumstances of the question. Before she could come up with an answer, Blake interrupted:<br />
"Psych! I would never be seen with a fucking outcast like you!"<br />
Shelly could feel her heart breaking, hot tears streaming down her face as it blushed with anger and betrayal. Then the laughter started. The entire stairwell echoed with the cruel howls. Shelly ran to the bathroom and washed her face and mouth for the next 20 minutes, then ran to the nurse to go home.<br />
Shelly never forgot that day. Blake graduated and was accepted into an Ivy League school, while most of the Guido Goons stayed behind and attended junior and trade colleges. <br />
Shelly turned to boxing to channel her anger and depression, and fell in love with her first major opponent, Leslie. Still, the memories never ceased to haunt her. They taunted her from the back of her mind. They were with her daily.<br />
As she finished her weight training session, Shelly was eager to move on to the punching bag waiting to be demolished. But there was one thing she wanted to hit even more.<br />
Shelly turned around and made a beeline toward the bar across the street, where Chaz and his asshole friends were having a good time, no doubt at her expense. She rushed up to Chaz, who was facing the bar while sipping on a pint of beer. She tapped his shoulder, and as he turned around, dealt the satisfying blow he had earned.<br />
In this very moment, all the laughter, all the cruel jokes, all the emotional torture had culminated into a ball of energy, exploding from her fist into Chaz's smug, obnoxious face. She could feel the bones shattering in his face upon impact. <br />
After she released the punch, Shelly felt a peace like she had never known. It was like all the mocking voices had finally been silenced. She smiled for the first time in what seemed like years as Chaz's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he hit the floor.<br />
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Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-36572460194993637722013-05-22T12:56:00.000-07:002013-05-22T12:59:26.992-07:00Labyrinth of Insanity<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> This week's Flash Fiction Challenge is the <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/05/17/flash-fiction-challenge-the-random-fantasy-character-generator/">Fantasy Character Generator. </a> I chose "a</span><span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> foppish oracle is seeking the Labyrinth of Insanity."</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><b><u>Labyrinth of Insanity</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> Memnin was an embarrassment to all. It was said that he was the most foppish oracle who ever lived.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> As a child, he had been proclaimed "oracle" by the elders, but he just couldn't live up to the tribe's expectations. Every time he gave a prophecy, the exact opposite would happen. It was as if the gods had created him as a practical joke. Not even his own mother took him seriously any more.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> It was on this fateful day that he was summoned to a council meeting at the sacred stones. One didn't require a third eye to see the disappointment on every face.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> The elders shook their silver heads at Memnin. Earlier that morning, he had given the wrong prophecy for a third time, and now he feared for his life. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> "The public is crying for your head. The Order can no longer protect you," said Grecon, the head elder. "We are sending you on a quest to find the Great Florchar. Only she can help you.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> "She lives in the heart of the Labyrinth of Insanity," Grecon continued. "You must pass three tests before you can reach the center. These tests will evaluate your heart and mind. Pass them, and she can correct your chakras to make you a conduit for the gods. Fail, and you will be doomed to serve as a groundskeeper in the Labyrinth for all eternity."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> Memnin gathered only what he needed for the trip, and hurried on his way, right before dusk. He knew what would happen if he was caught by a member of the angry mob. The last time an oracle angered the mob, she was torn from limb to limb and fed to the goats.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> After what seemed like an eternity of walking, Memnin saw it. The Labyrinth's doors were carved wood that featured the nine Mysteries of Spyrth. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> The doors opened with a cryptic creak as Memnin approached. As he entered, a grey fog curled around him like the grip of death. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> Memnin made his way through the corridor, sensing an impending doom creeping all around him. His heart skipped a beat as he came upon the first test.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> A skeleton held a box with an eerie green glow that penetrated the narrow opening with razor-sharp light. Memnin shuddered as he lifted the lid, the inside of which was inscribed with a riddle:</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><i>What is that which cannot be seen, but is beheld only by the eye?</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><i> </i>Memnin stopped to think for a minute. He vaguely remembered something like this in his oracle training class. He never paid attention in that class, and now he wished he had.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> He made a wild guess. Reaching inside the eye socket of the skeleton, he pulled out an eyeworm.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> Suddenly, the ground shook. The walls melted into the floor, and The Great Florchar appeared before Memnin.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> "<i>That's </i>your answer?!?"</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> Thinking he had gotten it right, Memnin proudly shook his head with a dumb grin on his face.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> "How can you be so stupid?!? That wasn't it at all!"</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> Dumbfounded, Memnin looked at the Great Florchar in shock.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> "Wha ... what <i>was </i>it?"</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> "Nevermind that now. I had a bad feeling about you, and you proved it right," she sighed as she headed to the center of the Labyrinth. "Come, come. Let's get you ready for an eternity of servitude."</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> "You mean I don't get a second chance? What about the other two tests?"</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> The Great Florchar laughed. "There's no point in evaluating you any further. You're just not oracle <i>material. </i>Some things are just meant to be accepted in life, my child.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> "</span></span><span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">The worm is never meant to fly. He only finds himself soaring through the air while gripped by the jaws of death," </span></span><span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">she said. "</span><span style="font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Just so, not all who aspire to greatness are meant to achieve it."</span></span></div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-26850385789529226292013-05-15T15:59:00.001-07:002013-05-16T05:27:50.576-07:00Space opera ... men's adventure? This week's <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/05/10/flash-fiction-challenge-smashing-sub-genres/">Flash Fiction Challenge</a> involves smashing two unrelated genres together. Using the recommended random number generator, I got the numbers 1 and 5: Men's Adventure and Space Opera. Being completely unfamiliar with either genre, I had to do a little homework on them before I could squeeze this out of my noggin. As just about anyone venturing for the first time into a middle-Eastern buffet would say, "I hope this comes out OK."<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Fantastic Journey Into Flumboskat</u></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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Chet Johnson was a specimen of a man. He was the most decorated Navy Seal in U.S. history. </div>
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He had just finished an important, top-secret mission, and he was getting ready to enjoy a much-deserved vacation in the Hawaiian Islands.</div>
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Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Chet checked out his chiseled jaw from every angle, and plucked out a rogue hair peeking out of his left nostril.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. A mailman waited at the door with a certified letter.</div>
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"Looks like my vacation's gonna have to wait," Chet sighed as he read the letter. It gave specific instructions on when and where to go for his next assignment. </div>
<b> 15:15 Hours, Tuesday, June 12, at an abandoned bus station</b><br />
<b> </b>Chet arrived, early as usual in his perfectly-pressed uniform. He scanned the area, looking for any sign of life. For a second, he wondered if this was some sort of practical joke.<br />
Right at 15:32 hours, a uniformed man suddenly appeared out of nowhere.<br />
Chet snapped into a salute. "Officer Chet Johnson, reporting for duty, sir!"<br />
"I'm Chief Officer Conner. I'm from the future, and I'm recruiting you for a rescue mission. In my time, we are on the verge of a major war with planet Flumboskat. That planet's entire economy is based on the largest interplanetary trafficking operation we have ever encountered. Women are being abducted from every planet and forced into prostitution.<br />
"We have an officer who is being held hostage there -- Officer Vanessa Luskin is the niece of Earth's planetary president, so this mission is of top priority."<br />
Chief Officer Connor retrieved a small remote from his pocket and pressed a button, disabling a cloaking device. A sleek, blue-and-silver chrome ship appeared, and he opened the door with his remote. They entered, and strapped themselves in.<br />
After weeks of preparation, it was time to set out. Armed with the finest military weaponry, Chet and his team of highly-trained soldiers flew under the cloak of night to Flumboskat.<br />
Intel had determined the exact holding spot where Luskin was kept. Chet knew the weak spots of the compound, and his night-vision goggles showed the guards' posts. One by one, they dropped like flies as Chet and his team fired their stealth guns.<br />
Once inside, a giant flengowchi monster kept watch over the main door. The hulking creature resembled an enormous warthog. It roared at the intruders, trying to gore them with its tusks.<br />
The soldiers ran to every corner of the compound, as the flengowchi went on a killing spree, stomping, biting, and goring the men to death. Chet made a dash for the door, when the flengowchi began charging straight for him. <br />
"Over here, motherfucker!" Rick, one of the best soldiers on Chet's team, threw rocks at the monster to distract him. Chet ran inside as he heard Rick's blood-piercing screams. He shuddered as he realized no one else from his team was left.<br />
Fueled by adrenaline, Chet went through the compound with expert speed, killing the rebel soldiers left and right, until the entire building was secure. He found the control room, and opened all the doors that imprisoned the women there. He called Chief Officer Connor.<br />
"We're in the clear, except for one beast of a motherfucker outside! The flengowchi killed every last one of my men. We're going to need reinforcements to help get out of here!"<br />
Chet looked through the crowd of brutalized women as they flowed toward the front of the compound. Some were human, some were from other planets, but they all had a worn, emaciated look about them. Suddenly, he found her. <br />
Vanessa Luskin was chained to the wall. Tears streamed down her face when she saw him.<br />
"Please, get me out of here!"<br />
He used his laser gun on low heat to carefully melt the shackles off of her, then cradled her in his arms. She buried her face in his neck and cried as he lifted her and carried her to the door. <br />
Outside, the rescue shuttle had arrived, and some soldiers trying to kill the monster only served as a distraction while the others ushered the women to the spaceship. <br />
"We're going to have to risk this to get to safety," Chet said to Vanessa. "Can you walk?"<br />
Vanessa showed Chet where the rebels had crushed the bones of her ankles.<br />
"I'm so sorry," Chet whispered as Vanessa cried into his neck. He peered outside to see the flengowchi destroying every soldier who tried to face it. <br />
"We can't wait any longer. We have to go," Chet shouted. He dashed off with Vanessa draped over his shoulders. The monster charged toward him.<br />
It swung its massive paw at him, knocking him and Vanessa to the ground. He and Luskin crawled backward as the flengowchi loomed over them, trying to decide which one to eat first.<br />
It went for the meatiest one first. Lunging at Chet, the monster took him in its mouth. Chet kicked the roof of its mouth, and it screamed, then snapped as it released Chet. A laser went straight into its left eye, blinding it. Chet looked behind him to see Vanessa firing away at the monster. He then looked down to see a bloody stump where his right foot once was. A darkness took over, and he passed out.<br />
<b> 15:33 Hours, Tuesday, June 12, at an abandoned bus station</b><br />
<b> </b>Chet and Vanessa suddenly appeared at the same station in 2013. They had both received awards and accolades for their service, and were honorably discharged for the wounds they received while in service. The government determined the safest place for Vanessa was back in Chet's time, to which neither of them objected. The two had been inseparable during their recovery, learning together how to walk again using prosthetic limbs.<br />
The government demonstrated its gratitude for Chet and Vanessa's bravery in service with a substantial retirement fund, enough for the two to enjoy a comfortable life for the rest of their days.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-13207535316515418792013-05-08T15:51:00.002-07:002013-05-08T15:54:44.493-07:00Five Random Sentences This week's challenge is <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/05/03/flash-fiction-challenge-five-random-sentences/">"Five Random Sentences,"</a> where we get to choose from a list of randomly generated sentences to add to our stories. Being the deviant that I am, and inspired by <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/04/30/25-humpalicious-steps-for-writing-your-first-sex-scene-by-delilah-s-dawson-author-of-wicked-as-she-wants/">Delilah S. Dawson's entry</a> a while back, I chose the one I thought was the weirdest: "The rough sex arrives by adhesive smoke."<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Close Encounters of the Kinky Kind</u></b></div>
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<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
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Jessie woke up with a throbbing headache. The bright lights pounded at her head like 14-wheeler slamming into a brick wall. She shielded her eyes and grimaced in pain.</div>
<i>Where the fuck am I, and how the fuck did I get here?!?</i><br />
This wasn't the first time she woke up somewhere strange, but it <i>was </i>the first time she woke up naked on a cold, metal table. She tried to get up, but even the smallest move made her head swim. She surrendered again to sleep.<br />
An unknown number of hours later, strange, almost-metallic voices filled the room. Jessie startled and opened her purple glitter-covered eyes. False eyelashes dangled from her eyelids like tassels from time-worn curtains.<br />
Strings of drool sparkled in the harsh light as they trickled down to form a puddle on the table. They stretched and broke as she awkwardly sat up.<br />
She looked around the room -- stark white walls were made painfully bright by stark white lights. <br />
A strange man in a white coat entered the room with another man, and asked him something about a time stamp that proved the consent form was signed before the subject was sedated. The other man nodded.<br />
The closer they came, she realized they weren't men after all. Their faces were an inhuman shade of green, like aliens. Or maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. She wasn't sure. <br />
Before she could climb off the table, the creatures stopped her, muttering something about safety, then strapped her down and gave her something that knocked her out again.<br />
When she woke up later, the lights were almost completely out. She saw no one in the room, but she sensed that <i>something </i>was there<i>.</i><br />
<i> </i>It was a matter of seconds when she realized what she was sensing. She could barely make out the strange smoke as it entered the room, and crept over her like a thick blanket.<br />
Jessie tried to scream, but the smoke filled her mouth before sound could come out. The smoke had a sedative effect, relaxing her like a warm bath as it began to flow over her body.<br />
Suddenly, Jessie realized the smoke was not just over her, it was <i>inside </i>her, and it was growing <i>hard </i>inside her like a 14-inch cock. And it felt Really. Fucking. Good. Her hands gripped each side of the table as she felt her body being taken, deliciously consumed by this barely visible force.<br />
It felt like no man -- or vibrator -- ever had. And Jessie had had quite a few -- of <i>both</i>.<br />
Waves of overwhelmingly intense pleasure crashed over her body like fierce waves from a tropical monsoon, building in intensity. Her back arched higher than it ever had as the driving force inside her went deeper and deeper. Just when she thought she had reached the highest point her body could handle, it pushed her higher. Harder and harder, faster and faster, the unknown force pounded her.<br />
<i>Oh, fuck! Fuck! FUCK, </i>she thought. Her body thrashed on the table like a flailing marionette, controlled by an orgasm whose power she never knew existed. Again, she opened her mouth to scream. But this time, the smoke released its hold on her in time for her to release an other-worldly, ear-piercing shriek that could wake even the deadest of the dead.<br />
Her body collapsed on the table like a leaf suddenly released by swirling winds. Completely spent, Jessie surrendered again to sleep, more satisfied than she had ever been in her entire fucking existence.<br />
Behind a two-way mirror, a team of scientists applauded and cheered. <br />
"Ladies and gentlemen, congratulations! Our first live experiment was a success," exclaimed the man in the coat -- who was, in fact, a man after all.<br />
A man in a suit raised a hand. "Exactly <i>how</i> does this work?"<br />
"The rough sex arrives by adhesive smoke," answered the man in the lab coat. "The subject can, of course, select the precise intensity and speed of their experience -- this particular subject has an under-sensitive G-spot, so she requires more intensity than the average person. Regardless of one's preference, this is guaranteed to be be unlike any other sexual encounter a client has ever had.<br />
"Not only can the smoke penetrate smoothly, it penetrates quickly and efficiently. And because it is, in fact, <i>not</i> solid, it can go deeper and fuller inside the subject than any solid object. It can become dense and hard, and still reach places that any human or phallic object will fail to reach.<br />
"Here at Incubus Enterprises, we strive to bring the most pleasurable experiences known to men and women alike. This is the first of many products we will launch within the next five years. Our products will save marriages, fulfill fantasies, and make the world a better place to live. Studies have shown that people who are sexually satisfied are less stressed, make better decisions, and are generally nicer people to be around. Ultimately, by ensuring sexual satisfaction to the masses, we can one day bring about world peace!"<br />
Beyond the control room, a large conference table full of well-dressed onlookers was sold. One by one, they swiped their credit cards in the machines provided, donating billions of dollars to fund the project. <br />
<i> </i>The following day, Jessie woke up on her couch, completely rested and feeling better than she had in years.<br />
<i>That was a weird-ass dream I had last night, </i>she thought. She'd had erotic dreams before, but never any that were that fucking bizarre. <br />
She ran a hand through her messed-up hair, and as she sat up she noticed something on the coffee table.<br />
It was an unmarked business envelope. She opened it hastily, tearing through the top flap. <br />
Inside was a copy of her consent form and a thank-you letter, along with a $10,000 check addressed to her. She shuddered with sobering awareness as she read the business card:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Incubus Enterprises</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>It's our pleasure to give YOU pleasure</i></b></div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-5259111637482403702013-05-01T18:20:00.001-07:002013-05-01T18:36:52.951-07:00Paved Meat: A Roadkill Romance This week's <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/04/26/flash-fiction-challenge-the-titles-have-been-chosen/">Flash Fiction Challenge</a> is to choose from a list of titles and write a story around it. I chose my personal favorite:<br />
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<b><u>Paved Meat: A Roadkill Romance</u></b></div>
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<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
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Duke had never tasted anything so good in his entire life. As he sank his teeth in the fleshiest bit of the 25-pound cat left flattened by a speeding 14-wheeler, the blood ran down his chin and dripped to the ground. He licked it up greedily, savoring the juices from the meatiest meal he'd had in a long, long time. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Ever since his people left him, Duke had been on a strict diet of squirrel and raccoon meat, or whatever trash he could find wandering up and down the road. He was dropped off three months ago in the middle of nowhere, on I-10 between Houston and Beaumont. His once-paunchy Rottweiler body was withering away, and his ribs were beginning to stick out.</div>
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This meal was a gift from the gods, and Duke was enjoying every bit of it.</div>
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That is, until <i>she</i> arrived. He smelled her long before he saw her. Duke's eyes shifted fiercely as he growled a warning at the bitch creeping toward his meal. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> It's MINE! Go find your own!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i>Rhonda was desperate. She was homeless, and the dog who got her pregnant left her to chase after another female. She needed this meal. She hadn't eaten in days, and she knew the puppies would die if she didn't get food soon. She whimpered, pleading with the other dog for some of his food.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Duke was about to snap at this bitch, but something in her eyes softened his resolve. He looked at her -- a well-muscled Rhodesian Ridgeback frame with a blue coat and Pitbull's square head -- and decided to investigate a little closer.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Rhonda stood still as Duke sniffed her butt, taking in her pheromones and learning about the puppies she carried. He licked her face, and shared the rest of the cat with her.</div>
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Rhonda devoured the remains of the cat hungrily, then licked Duke's muzzle clean. </div>
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They ran toward the trees, marking territory and wrestling together. As dusk settled in, they snuggled together for warmth in the Autumn night. A waning moon seemed to smile on them as Duke licked Rhonda's head, then nuzzled into her neck. Of all the other dogs he had come across, this one somehow seemed different. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
That special spark -- the kind that tells you <i>this is the one</i> -- hit him earlier that day. There was just <i>something</i> about the way she rolled around in her own shit. And the way she smelled afterwards knocked him off his feet. He knew he was in love.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For so long, he had to walk alone, fending off his food from other dogs, snapping at vultures that tried to descend on his skid-marked meals, braving the elements as he struggled to survive. Now, he had someone to share his life with. No matter how harsh the sun was, or how cold the storms, Duke had someone beside him.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
As the months passed, Rhonda's belly became more and more pronounced. Her nipples started to droop, and she started to sleep more during the day. Duke would spend his days finding food, and bringing Rhonda whatever he could find.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
One morning, he woke up the sound of Rhonda whimpering, He knew it was time. One tiny puppy emerged after another, squeaking a helpless greeting to a brand new world. They were so tiny, so precious with their little ears, their little paws, their little mouths crying out for food. It was the most magical moment Duke had ever known.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The fourth puppy wasn't so easy to birth. Rhonda screamed in pain as she tried to push, but it wouldn't come out. For hours, she tried, but couldn't help the puppy find the outside world. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
As the puppy suffocated inside her, she became weak and passed out. Duke tried to wake Rhonda up to feed the puppies she had birthed, but she wouldn't open her eyes. The puppies cried out for milk, but Duke had no way to help them.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i>Duke whimpered, helpless to save the mother or her pups. He tried for days to wake Rhonda, to find any way to sustain the puppies. One by one, they all slipped away.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
There was nothing Duke could do. The smell of death rose off of their bodies like vapors off a scorching-hot road. A Sadness he had never known gripped his heart.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Over time, the Sadness slowly smothered his will to live. Days passed, and the Sadness crept beside him like a deranged stalker as he wandered the empty roads, unwilling and unable to eat. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
His nights brought him no relief. Dreams of Rhonda and her puppies haunted him. Even the happy dreams were cruel, because the mornings that followed reminded him of what he had lost. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The Sadness grew bigger, eating Duke alive as he grew smaller and smaller, until one day, the strength completely left his body and he collapsed. A single tear slid down his cheek as the Sadness began to devour what was left of him.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In the darkness, a large red pickup slammed on its brakes -- too late to stop from hitting the big black thing in the middle of the road.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Shit! What was that?!?"</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Two men got out of their truck to see what they just hit. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"It's a dog. I thought it was a baby deer at first!"</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Well, if he <i>was</i> alive, he sure as shit ain't now!"</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Whaddaya wanna do with it?"</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Ehh, just push it to the side of the road. He's nothin' but roadkill, now."<br />
The men pushed what remained of Duke out of the way, then drove off into the night, leaving blood-soaked tread marks in their wake.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-67832710302917456772013-04-23T13:38:00.001-07:002013-04-23T13:38:25.436-07:00I'm wayyyyyy behind on Flash Fiction Challenges ...Due to a ton on crazyshit going on, I haven't done Flash Fiction Challenges on a regular basis in a long-ass time.<br />
<br />
I'm going to make up for it, starting today, and work backward to where I last left off.<br />
<br />
This Flash Fiction Challenge: <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/03/29/flash-fiction-challenge-the-secret-door/">The Secret Door</a><br />
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<b><u>Dream House</u></b></div>
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<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
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Before you stands an old door, hidden in an archway carved into a 10-foot-tall hedge of lush greenery that taunts passers-by with its plethora of secrets. Many times, you have wondered what lies beyond that hedge, but it has never been open ... until now.<br />
As you enter, a surreal scenery unfolds. You see a cozy craftsman bungalow with scalloped eaves in sage green contrasting beautifully with the maroon shutters that adorn its bay windows. A generous front porch with squared-off marigold pillars flank the midnight blue arched beveled double door inset with hand-made stained glass and surrounded by a bright coral door frame.<br />
As you walk around the house, you see a massive oak tree with a tire swing, hanging off of a branch thick enough to support an adult's weight, so you take it for a test drive. Suddenly, you're a child again, feeling the breeze blow through your hair as you lean back and surrender yourself to the relaxing motion of the swing.<br />
After a few minutes pass, you realize it's time to explore some more, and venture further out into the back yard. A huge dining table topped with a bright yellow and white polk-a-dot tablecloth sits underneath a vast, multi-hued chandelier and surrounded by chairs of every pastel color known to man. Some of them are wooden, some of them are cushy, wing-back chairs. At any moment, you expect to see a white rabbit scurrying about, rambling about the time. Louis Carrol would be proud.<br />
<i>Curiouser and curiouser</i>, you think to yourself. There's just something about this place that seems familiar.<br />
You decide to try the sliding back door and find it unlocked. "Hello? Is anyone here?" you ask as you look around for any sign of life. After a moment of silence, you walk in slowly, half-expecting someone to scream for help or whack you with a cast-iron skillet.<br />
No cries for help or swinging cookware greet you as you turn on the light and enter the master bedroom. Instead, you see a king-sized bed whose canopy extends to the entire ceiling like a silk tent in every shade of blue and purple. The bed is piled high with jewel-toned pillows, and the comforter is a sapphire blue, swirled with lilac purple. A plush, thick lavender rug stands out against a dark hardwood floor. The master bathroom continues the purple theme, with a royal purple contrasting with turquoise throughout. A claw-foot bathtub in purple and white is framed by darker purple curtains, and shelves on the walls feature more candles than a Catholic altar.<br />
The hallway continues the blue, purple and turquoise theme, with a cream-colored chaise lounge accenting the center. <br />
In the center of the living room is an elegant antique purple velvet hump-back couch, with a silver-plated back. <br />
The kitchen takes on a slightly unexpected French theme, with a red-and-white argyle backsplash over black marble countertops, and a black-and-white tiled floor leading to the breakfast area, where an antique white bistro sets against black lacquer walls.<br />
You wonder what kind of person lives in this bohemian paradise, and suddenly, you realize: Ten years ago, when you were a naive dreamer, you created a notebook full of pictures from magazines that resembled every aspect of this place. <br />
<i>Curiouser and curiouser ...</i><br />
<i> </i>Suddenly, a purple fairy emerges from a sparkly cloud that appears out of nowhere. <br />
Your heart skips a beat and you back away in shock.<br />
"Don't be alarmed, sweetie," she says in a soothing voice. "This is <i>your </i>house!"<br />
You stand there, stunned, with your jaw dropped to the beautiful hardwood floor.<br />
"We've been watching you for years, and we didn't like the streak of bad luck you've been given."<br />
Your mind goes over the rolling series of disappointments that has been your life in recent years. The broken dreams, the job layoffs, the bitter break-ups ... Yep, life has been quite the bitch lately.<br />
"We searched through your subconscious and found these images. We discovered they were part of this book you discarded after you lost your house," the fairy said.<br />
"Wait a minute ... who is <i>we</i>?"<br />
The fairy laughs, and you realize she's not a fairy at all -- she's an alien.<br />
"Sorry, please allow me to introduce myself. You can call me Sandy -- that's the closest thing in the English translation from my alien language. You were randomly selected for our anthropological study.<br />
"Now, I know what you must be thinking -- we've seen every movie, every X-Files episode, and we know humankind doesn't trust anyone from outer planets. Please, let me assure you, we only want to study your culture."<br />
Still in shock, all you can do is blink in response.<br />
"We don't normally interfere with humans' lives, but we took a particular interest in yours. We decided to separate you because you are an ideal candidate for our experiment.<br />
"This is where you will be spending the rest of your life. You will want for nothing. We will supply nothing but the best food, clothing and anything else you desire. We are currently searching for a suitable mate, so you can be fulfilled in your domestic life. Please let me know if there's anything else we can do for you."<br />
<i> Curiouser and curiouser.</i> Well, it's not like you had any real freedom in your former life -- always having to slave away at a crappy job you didn't like, to pay for a crappy apartment with paper-thin walls where you couldn't get any sleep, that was full of crappy furniture you picked up from the side of the road. You lived a solitary life, with no friends and no love life. You had nothing worth missing, because you had already lost everything. You shrug.<br />
"Sounds great, Sandy!" You take in a deep breath as you look around at the beautiful surroundings, and head straight for the cushy bed. Hell, you didn't even care if the aliens themselves decided to impregnate you. If this was your new prison, you were ready to do time.</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-91839962113661837432013-04-19T05:59:00.001-07:002013-04-22T15:51:32.772-07:00Flash Fiction Challenge: Choose Your Opening Line<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>A Special Place in Hell</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>by Kristin Mireles</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> <i> This week's Flash Fiction Challenge is called <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/04/12/flash-fiction-challenge-choose-your-opening-line/">"Choose Your Opening Line."</a> It reminds me of when I was a kid and I would read the "Choose Your Own Adventure" series. Those were so much fun! Anyway, here's my entry:</i></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #484340;"> </span>“You must walk three paces behind me,” she said. “And never raise your eyes to mine.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Dan thought it was a weird request, but he followed obediently. <i>Hell, why not. I'm up for anything</i>. He had never met anyone like Vickie, and he couldn't wait to get to know her better. </span></span><br />
<span style="border: 0px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> He met her after stepping out the back door of his favorite restaurant for a cigarette. </span></span><br />
<span style="border: 0px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Dan needed to get away from the tension after witnessing a woman raise all kinds of hell and flat-out refuse to pay her bill because she and the rest of her table didn't like the food -- even though they ate all of it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> He lit up, and a gorgeous, slender 6-foot-tall brunette with a little red dress came up from out of nowhere and asked to borrow a cigarette. The way she looked, she could have asked to borrow his soul, and he wouldn't have denied her. </span></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> They laughed together as they talked about the obnoxious restaurant customers, and as their cigarettes were almost completely burned out, she put her hand on his arm and said, barely above a whisper, "Wanna see something you'll <i>never </i>forget?"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> And now here he was, going down this crazy path. He thought it might be something cool, like an underground club. It turned out to be </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">literally </i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">underground. </span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "Hey, aren't you even going to give me a <i>hint </i>about where we're going?"</span></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> "I promise, Dan, you've never been anywhere like it."</span></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i> </i>She flashed a smile and said, "You know those people who are always assholes to salespersons, who run restaurant servers around like they're their personal staff, who abuse receptionists and other customer service workers? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">"Because they made these workers' lives hell on Earth, they will have a special place to serve in Hell."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> Vickie lit the pathway with her iPhone, carefully descending steps that finally came to a huge, concrete brick archway with a sign above it that read, "This will not end well."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> <i>Exactly what I was just thinking, </i>Dan thought. A chill crept up his spine as they passed through.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> Vickie stopped at a doorway that revealed a room full of terrible screams. Dan looked in to see people trying in vain to soothe screaming infants and puppies. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> "This is the first circle," Vickie said. "These are customers who -- just like colicky infants and puppies suffering separation anxiety -- were innocently unaware that their constant demands for attention made extra work for those whose job it was to help them. They will have no rest." </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> Further down, the second circle revealed people chained behind a desk, with thousands of hands grasping for them from all directions because in life they</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> selfishly acted as if they were the only customers who mattered</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> In the third spiral, </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">people were walking up steep hills carrying enormous sacks </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">because each of them became an impossible burden on society by habitually trying to work the system for discounts or free meals. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> A disturbing scene opened up to Dan when Vickie brought him to the fourth circle of Hell, full of giant, oozing globs of ... <i>people</i>?!?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> "These were those who worked in management, and never backed their employees when customer complaints came up," she explained. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> "Let me guess ... they have to go all eternity without a spine, since they never really had one in life," Dan said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> "Exactly," Vickie said with a satisfied smile.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> The circles of Hell that followed were each a great spectacle. In the fifth circle, those who would bully and yell at people in the service and retail industry were confined to a concrete cell echoing with piercing shrieks that would ring in their ears for all eternity. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> Unfortunate souls in the sixth circle were made to walk back and forth, without a rest, because in life they would constantly enter a store right before closing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> Vickie led him to the seventh circle, reserved for managers who played political games with their employees. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> "</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">Because spiritually, they were such vile creatures in life, these sinners would be forced to become one of the most vile creatures that ever walked the Earth -- cockroaches, constantly having to run away from a giant foot. After being stomped, they would black out, and wake up again as new cockroaches, running around until they are squashed again."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> Dan shuddered all the way to the eighth circle, full of people who </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">would take up a commissioned salesperson's time with hours of negotiations, only to take that deal to the competitor's business. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> "Isn't that what the salespeople were there for?" Dan asked. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> "C<i>ommissioned </i>salespeople are not paid by the hour. If I wanted you to go mow my lawn, pull all the weeds, and trim all the hedges and told you to do it for free, what would you tell me?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> "</span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">Hell </i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">no! That's hard work! I would expect you to pay me for that shit!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> "Exactly. These people are essentially stealing valuable time and labor. That's why they </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">will spend all eternity in the trenches of Hell, doing hard labor without reward."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> The ninth circle was the most disgusting. People </span><span style="border: 0px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">who would give condescending lectures to customer service personnel who didn't kiss their ass were stung by a million buzzing bees that never died, while stuck waist-deep in a steaming vat of dung. </span></span><br />
<span style="border: 0px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Dan's nostrils were burning from the olfactory assault. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> "Are you ready to go back? I think we've seen enough today," Vickie said after she looked at her watch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> Dan was relieved. He couldn't stand the smell any longer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> As Dan resurfaced, he turned around to see the obnoxious family leaving the restaurant, complaining loudly. Clearly, no amount of free food would appease them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> When he looked back, Vickie was gone. He quickly went back to the bar and closed out his tab. His bill came to $41.23.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;"> "Here, thanks for the great service. Keep the change," he said as he gave the server a $100 bill. The server stood there in shock as Dan smiled, then walked out of the restaurant, knowing he had made someone's night.</span></div>
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Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-33990754997305108462012-07-21T16:12:00.003-07:002012-07-21T16:12:32.476-07:00Somewhere back in time ... Chuck Wendig's flash fiction challenge for this week is <a href="http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2012/07/20/flash-fiction-challenge-must-love-time-travel/">time travel</a>! This will be my first attempt at science fiction ever!<br />
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<b>Somewhere Back in Time</b></div>
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Lisa Stetson always felt like she belonged in another era. Growing up, she never felt like she fit in with her classmates. While her peers danced around mindlessly to New Kids On The Block, and crooned along with Wilson Phillips, Lisa couldn't wait to get home and put on her favorite records -- Peggy Lee, Rosemary Clooney, Frank Sinatra.</div>
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Needless to say, Lisa was quite the pariah. She was an only child born to parents who were old enough to be her grandparents. She was an old soul, raised with the values of another generation, and her clothes reflected that. Her classmates wore Hammer Pants and jeans in obnoxiously bright colors, while she dressed like a librarian. Her mousy brown hair was always pulled back in a bun, and her pale skin never saw the light of day because her free time was filled with countless hours spent reading classic literature in the comfort of her own bedroom. </div>
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Lisa would spend her lunch hour in the library, taking sanctuary from the mocking catcalls and jeers of the other kids at school. In the library, she felt at home. The librarians were kindred spirits, and always welcomed her with a smile. Surrounded by those who truly understood her -- Poe, Dickinson, Hemingway -- Lisa could truly be herself, and not feel ridiculed for it.</div>
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On this particular day, in this particular time zone, in this particular hour, a strange collection of events was about to coincide. Mars and Mercury were both in retrograde, and a solar eclipse was just about to happen. The highest level of interplanetary impact was about to happen at that very library.<br />
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And on this particular day, Lisa was extremely tired, having hardly been able to catch any sleep the night before. She lay her head down on page 56 of a well-worn hardback copy of <i>Wuthering Heights</i>.<br />
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The next thing she knew, she was surrounded by a group of teenagers she didn't recognize. None of them were dressed like the classmates she knew. Lisa thought for a second that she was in a movie.<br />
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"Where did <i>you</i> come from? I've never seen you here before," said a boy who looked like Buddy Holly. <br />
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Lisa looked at him like he was crazy. "I'm from here! Where did <i>you</i> come from?"<br />
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The other students exchanged glances, looking as puzzled as Lisa was. She looked around her. The library was the same, but somehow different. Everything looked newer. The <i>Wuthering Heights </i>copy she was reading was brand new. The desk she sat at no longer had <i>Henry loves Susan</i> written on it, or any of the scratches it had collected over the years like so many battle scars.<br />
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Lisa didn't want to attract any attention, so she quietly stood up and went to the librarian's desk, where there was a copy of the daily paper.<br />
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It read, <i>October 5, 1952</i>. That morning, the newspaper was dated <i>October 5, 1992. </i>Lisa's jaw dropped to the ground. Had she somehow traveled through time? How was that even possible?<br />
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Shaking her head in disbelief, she carefully placed the newspaper back on the desk. <i>That must have been from the archives, </i>Lisa told herself. She picked up the desktop calendar. Sure enough: <i>October 5, 1952.</i><br />
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Lisa quietly went back to gather her things, and moved to another part of the library. She knew no one around her would believe she was from the future.<br />
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<i>Before I took that nap, I wished I was back in the '50s,</i> Lisa thought on the way to the back. <i>But this sort of thing doesn't just happen! This must be some sort of joke. </i>Lisa's jaw dropped again when she heard two students talking:<br />
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"My dad's voting for Ike! Who is yours voting for?"<br />
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<i>This is so weird! This is way too elaborate to be a prank,</i> Lisa thought to herself.<br />
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<i> </i>Lost in thought, Lisa didn't see the guy she was about to run in to. She crashed into him, spilling her books everywhere. <br />
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"Oh, I'm so sorry," Lisa exclaimed, her cheeks bright red. She bent down to pick up her books.<br />
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"That's OK, I wasn't watching where I was going, either," the guy grinned as he bent down to help Lisa. He had soft brown eyes and huge square glasses. "Wow, this sure is a crazy picture!" He held up Lisa's bright binder, gaping at the technicolor Lisa Frank unicorn.<br />
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"Uh, thanks," Lisa said. "My dad got it in France!"<br />
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"Wow! Coolsville! Hey, are you new here?"<br />
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"Uh, yeah! Do you know where the office is? I need to register for classes!"<br />
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"Sure thing!" The boy extended his hand. "I'm Jerry, by the way!"<br />
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"Nice to meet you, Jerry. I'm Lisa!"<br />
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"Nice to meet you too, Lisa! Mind if I carry your books for you? I'll show you where the office is!"<br />
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"Awww, thanks," Lisa said.<br />
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As the two headed down the hallway, Lisa knew her life had suddenly taken a turn for the better. Sure, she'd have to iron out a few details -- where to live, what to tell people about her family -- but for once in her life, she knew she was where she belonged.<br />
</div>Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4350457610958882022.post-78735031599206414752012-07-19T17:41:00.002-07:002012-07-20T09:36:46.288-07:00Fairy tale revampedA recent flash fiction challenge from Chuck Wendig was to write a fairy tale in modern language. I decided to write the old Norwegian tale, Billy Goats Gruff, as told by a 1980s Valley Girl. <br />
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<b>Billy Goats Gruff, or Some Junk!</b></div>
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So, this one day, these, like, three goats were all, like, hungry and stuff! They were all, like, related, and their last name was Gruff. So, that's why they were called the Billy Goats Gruff, duh!<br />
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The Billy Goats Gruff wanted to go to the side of a hill to eat some grass, because that's what goats like to eat! How, like, <i>weird</i> is that!<br />
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That totally reminds me, by the way, of last weekend, when my friends and I went to the mall! It was, like, totally tubular! I got this bitchin' green dress that I can't wait to wear on my date with Larry tonight! So, ... where was I ... oh, yeah!<br />
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So, anyway, like, on the way there was this bridge they had to cross. It was being guarded by this super-ugly guy with huge bug eyes and a big nose all covered in warts! He was, like, a total <i>troll!</i><br />
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Oh, that totally makes me think of yesterday, at lunch, when this butt-ugly guy came up to my table and asked me to go to the prom! As if! My friends and I just totally cracked up! It was hilarious! <br />
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Like, ummm, back to the story: The first goat started to cross the bridge: <i>Clip, clop, clip clop</i>! It was all noisy, kinda like when you're walking across a tile floor in a killer pair of stilettos, like, you know?<br />
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A loud voice boomed out: "OK, so, who's that walking across <i>my</i> bridge all loud, and stuff?" The troll was super cranky because the first goat woke him up.<br />
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"It's me, the thinnest of the Goats Gruff! I'm, like, so freakin' hungry right now," the skinny goat said in this, like, totally annoying, whiny voice.<br />
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God, I bet that goat thought he was hot shit just because he was the skinniest! It's like when Stephanie was prancing around at school today, acting like she was better than the rest of us just because she was a size zero! Total revelation, people: Skinnier doesn't always mean prettier! Stephanie's tiny waist isn't going to distract <i>anyone</i> from her stringy hair and horse face!<br />
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Anyway, as you can imagine, the troll was, like, soooo not amused.<br />
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"I'm, like, totally going to eat you right now, little goat!"<br />
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"Oh, no," said the littlest goat. "Please don't eat me, I'm, like, too young to die! Besides, as you can see, I don't have much meat on these bones! You might as well wait for the next goat -- he's kinda chubby!"<br />
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"Fine! Just go," said the troll. As annoyed as he was, he could totally see the little goat's point. The ugly-ass troll rubbed his hands together in, like, anticipation and stuff.<br />
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It wasn't long before the troll heard the <i>clip, clop, clip, clop </i>of the chubby goat.<br />
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"OK, so, who's that walking across <i>my</i> bridge all loud, and stuff?"<br />
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"It's the second Billy Goat Gruff! I'm, like, super hungry!" The chubby goat's voice wasn't nearly as whiny as his skinny brother.<br />
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Again, the troll was, like, soooo not amused.<br />
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"I'm, like, totally going to eat you right now, chubby goat!"<br />
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"Please don't eat me! I'm, like, nowhere near as meaty as my brother, who is about to cross the bridge!"<br />
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The troll rolled his beady little eyes. "Fine! Just get out of here before I, like, change my freakin' mind!"<br />
<br />
Just then, the, like, totally fat goat started across the bridge. <i>CLIP, CLOP, CLIP, CLOP!</i> For a second there, the troll thought his bridge was going to break!<br />
<br />
"OK, so, who's that walking across <i>my</i> bridge all loud, and stuff?" <br />
<br />
"It is I, the biggest Billy Goat Gruff! I've had to wait all this time while you've been hassling my brothers, AND I'M, LIKE, REALLY FREAKIN' HUNGRY RIGHT NOW!" The biggest of the Gruff goats had this, like, really big voice.<br />
<br />
Oh my god! You know what this makes me think of? Last week, my best friend and I were in the food court at the mall, and we saw this huge woman walking around in a miniskirt and hot pink tights! Like, gag me with a spoon! There totally should be a weight limit for those! Like, for sure! She was all, like, stuffing her face with french fries! Ewwww! So gross!<br />
<br />
So, anyway, the troll was all, "Well, guess what? I'm hungry too, and I'm, like, totally going to eat you right now, you really, really big goat!"<br />
<br />
"Bring it, you ugly-ass troll," the biggest goat yelled. "I've got these, like, horns on my head that I'll use to poke your eyes out! And under all this fat is some serious muscle! I'm going to take these hooves and crush you to bits!"<br />
<br />
So, I'll spare you the details because what happened next was totally gory -- like, gross me out! Anyway, the biggest goat killed the troll, and the Billy Goats Gruff all got really fat eating the grass on the hill. I guess that's supposed to be a happy ending, like getting fat is a good thing? As if!<br />
<br />
So, anyway, like, snap, snap, snout -- this freakin' tale's totally told out, or some junk!<br />
<br />Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507198844408437595noreply@blogger.com0