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El Zilcho
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#1

Posted 11 April 2012 - 01:13 PM

One Shots

The principle is simple - a theme or idea is set and you write a small piece on it, before posting your own word for the next person to elaborate on. Your piece can be anything, written in any style. This exercise makes writing fun and breaks it down so that the drudgery of planning a complex story or examining whether your characters are believable is momentarily forgotten. Writing for writings sake.

Remember to leave a word or two at the end of your piece so the next person can keep it going. I'll begin:

The Hotel

Mokrie Dela
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#2

Posted 11 April 2012 - 03:48 PM Edited by Mokrie Dela, 11 April 2012 - 03:55 PM.

ok lets do it!

EDIT: Zero editing, so there will be typos or grammatical errors. I jst took the theme and run with it (as per the idea?). I'm acually quite happy with it.

And guess what? It was FUN biggrin.gif



##############################################





I grew up in the most shady part of town. Some people used ocean tapes to sleep, or white noise machines, but I regularly fell asleep to the sound of sirens. Every now and then i'd hear what could only be a gunshot. It was unremarkable to me though. That was where i lived, where i always lived, and where i'd live for a quarter of my life.

Like any other kid i'd wander around after school, or f*cking about during the holidays. There was this street - Hunter street, just off the main road, by the old pier that jutted out into the river like a broken finger, unmoving, forever malleted by abuse. There was an amusement park - just a small one - but that shut down. People died there, or so i heard.
But what sticks in my mind was the hotel. That old building, a product of the prohibition era, they say. Al capone visited it, they say. Some say he still visits, once a year.

I dont know what happened there. It closed, and had been all my life. I got the creeps driving past it. It always felt like night, even in the middle of the day. The hotel was the moon, albeit emittin no light, and the only tide it had control over was the one on which my fear rode. Trepidation? Temptation.
Inevitabley, we went inside, me and Mark. The paint was faded on the outside - no one knew what colour it had been - but inside was even worse. I remember once finding damp on my window - that horrible green/black sludge that comes from moisture. Mould. The lobby - i assume it was a lobby - was covered in it. The floor - once... I don't know - was eroded by time. Whatever compound held up the visitors' feet was now crunchy. Like walking on stale biscuits.

It stunk too. Like an old river. Perhaps the smell was the old river. I don't know. We began moving through the dark, forboding building. Today, now living a hundred and thirty three miles from that place, I'm a composer for the film industry. I make music for films. For games - well, one game. Jesus, when i was a kid the only game out was Pong. Now they're virtual life simulators. I can't tell the difference between life and games....
But, looking back, one of my works always springs to mind. MY life is spent now thinking of songs to go with scenes. My memory is tied to a piece i called 'Walking'. It starts with a slow walk through the C Minor chord on a Grand Piano. Strings play the role that bass guitars do these days, and a muted trumpet plays a slow harmony, quiet.
My memory's couple with that score. The dark, dismal corpse of a once proudly standing hotel, now scared by storms, but dust and by damp - that and any druggies or hobos that sought shelther there.

Mark led me upstairs. We were scared but we were kids. We had to explore it. We rounded a corner into one of the room and Mark just disappeared. I heard him yell, i heard a crack. In my mind A guitar also joins the mix and chellos take the low note responcibility, the song getting louder. An ominous drum sounds as a crash echoes throughout time.
Mark's crying. Where the f*ck is he?!
I remember turning and running downstairs.
I never saw Mark again, and I never returned to the Hotel. No body was found and to this day I ask myself what happened. Why didn't i stay and help him - or find him?

They tore the hotel down last month. Or was it last year? It was around Christmas. I remember watching.
Then the newspaper offerend me chills, which my spine accepted. They were fitting a new foundation on that site where, buried under where the hotel stood, as a body.

I found out yesterday that it was Mark's. The curious thing? It was buried underneath where the hotel was.




Battlefield

Hecate
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#3

Posted 11 April 2012 - 07:04 PM

Nice bit, Mokrie. Aside from some grammatical errors it flowed well for something without any revising. tounge.gif This was a fun little thing, I'm glad you guys decided to try it again. Hope we get it off the ground.

__


Red curls and green eyes. No matter where I am in life I'll always have that woman to go back to. Those playful lips that hid a cute little gap in her teeth. Sometimes we'd both get the time to head out past the city limits and just lay down in a field next to an old silo. We stepped along virgin grass and pulled each other around for a kiss every five seconds, it seemed.

That old silo - with the accompanying barn, must have been abandoned since the dust bowl. There were tons of farms out here like that, left to natures devices. Katy - that was her name, moved her arms around me closer as we laid down on top of an old Dark Side of the Moon blanket I set on the ground. Her skin rivalled my own paleness, though she wore it much better than me. On those nights we'd name stars and talk nonsense like young lovers do.

Of course I'm not there any more. Neither is Katy, as those last letters told me. I understood why she couldn't do it - too many shared memories in that town. That ghost town. Katy moved on to bigger places and nicer crowds. She deserved the high life, though. And she still does. Maybe after all this I'll give her a call and we can talk about what we've been up to, although I suspect my answer will be more cynical.

You can't really help yourself when you've spent nearly five years away, fighting for lives you never meet. It's not their fault but the blame needs to go somewhere, and all the PFCs are too stupid to even realize I'm yelling at them. Most of the time those kids are more lost in memories than I am. These kids - these children aren't ready for yelling and killing and dying. None of us are. Why can't we be like those generations that went into war smiling?



Railroads

Mokrie Dela
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#4

Posted 11 April 2012 - 08:53 PM

I won't take this go (leave it open for others) but I liked that. At first I couldn't see how it related to battlefield (coming up with a decent word is hard) but then I saw
I absolutely love that last sentence!

Btw what's a pfc?

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#5

Posted 11 April 2012 - 10:57 PM

Yeah, I went with a pretty stock way of introducing it but I couldn't be bothered with using some kind of allegory like x = a battlefield. tounge.gif

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#6

Posted 12 April 2012 - 07:52 PM Edited by Ziggy455, 12 April 2012 - 09:19 PM.

What the f*ck did I just write? turn.gif

The railroads of the town hadn’t been used for years. The Earth had reached up and begun to resurface over most of the track with large weeds and upshot rows of generic planting. The town itself was the same in its state. I remember the first time I had walked down those tracks with that girl. The one with bright blue eyes that pierced each and every man-child of the high school, the girl who had spent night after night with me as her company. We would constantly walk down the railroads overlooking the huge lake that was tranquil and beautiful. It was the only thing that seemed to have life residing in it back then.

We walked down the road and I watched her in her jeans and baggy red jumper. Her blonde hair flowed down her shoulders. We walked hand in hand and would watch as the trains came by. That was when I was nineteen. We shared a kiss and a single tear came from her eyes. High School was ending and we were all to leave. We made love to each other on a lookout point, the railroads ended close by and it wouldn’t be long until a new train would come rambling by. We promised to stay in contact, to stay true.

Many years rolled by and I returned to this town. I’d hit the jackpot with my career as a writer and had sold my fair share of books. But the cash didn’t make me happy and my heart yearned to go back to the railroads and find that place we made love. I returned to the place and found only weeds and growth. The tracks had been left abandoned years ago and so with it everything had been forgotten. It was only when I’d received a call about that girl of mine, that one I never stopped loving. The caller told me she’d come back to this town, and she seemed broken somehow. Like the railroads here, they had both lost their purposes years back and had succumbed to nature.

Edit: Sorry man. mercie_blink.gif

Darkness

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#7

Posted 12 April 2012 - 09:10 PM

Um, I was going to write something but you need to make a new theme Ziggy.

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#8

Posted 12 April 2012 - 09:27 PM

I'll let ace take his turn, just posted to say I found that kinda sad ziggy. It weren't that bad smile.gif

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#9

Posted 12 April 2012 - 09:34 PM

QUOTE (Ziggy455 @ Thursday, Apr 12 2012, 20:52)
What the f*ck did I just write? turn.gif

I thought this was really good, Ziggy. You've got a strong, powerful central metaphor and in exploring it you provide us with an entire backstory and character arc; really solid stuff for three quickfire paragraphs. One thing I would say is to not make the metaphor so obvious. Towards the end you really explained in plain words what the whole theme of the story was, and with a little more subtlety it could have held a lot of power.

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#10

Posted 12 April 2012 - 10:35 PM Edited by Ziggy455, 12 April 2012 - 10:46 PM.

QUOTE (Eminence @ Thursday, Apr 12 2012, 21:34)
QUOTE (Ziggy455 @ Thursday, Apr 12 2012, 20:52)
What the f*ck did I just write?  turn.gif

I thought this was really good, Ziggy. You've got a strong, powerful central metaphor and in exploring it you provide us with an entire backstory and character arc; really solid stuff for three quickfire paragraphs. One thing I would say is to not make the metaphor so obvious. Towards the end you really explained in plain words what the whole theme of the story was, and with a little more subtlety it could have held a lot of power.

QUOTE
Towards the end you really explained in plain words what the whole theme of the story was


To be honest that really is one of my biggest flaws. I elaborate waaaay too much with things near the resolution and it just makes everything seem forced and expositional. suicidal.gif mercie_blink.gif Thankyou for the feedback though. biggrin.gif Only took a mere five minutes.

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#11

Posted 12 April 2012 - 10:53 PM

here I go.

Darkness

I reached out in front of me and waded through the darkness of the tomb. The air wasn't like normal air. It was thick and dense. I felt like grabbing a ball of it and stuffing it down my throat. My eyes still hadn't managed to adjust the light, making me bump into things. I was still clutching the keys to get down here in my. In the distance, I could hear something creaking in the distance.

"Riley!" The voice was like a pair of steel hands clasping round my neck. I spun around to see Horace, holding a candle. His aged face was rough and his beard reached his chest. I was relived and frightened at the same time. The light from the candle was blinding almost I could practically see a ghost float around behind it. It was dancing. "What are you doing down here?"

"Just looking 'round, sir" he was always disappointed when I came down here. A part of me thinks he understands, the way he looks at me during the service. I hand him the keys and he musters up the courage to speak

"Now, lets get out of here" eager to get out, I trudge past Horace, knocking the candle of his hand. It rolls down the floor to the other end of the tomb. It revealed the monster that was hiding.

While I only saw him for a fraction, he reminded me of a Minotaur, wandering round a labyrinth with no aims or intentions. He was put there specifically to stop going there and I wish I didn't venture out into the darkness. The last thing I heard was Horace letting a small whelp, before I got head butted across the room, the last essence of my soul left my body. All that remained was darkness.

Colossus

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#12

Posted 13 April 2012 - 01:37 AM

Colossus.

The mountain rose like a colossal wet, shaggy dog and the earth slid, taking trees, roads, buildings and him.

It was a hard day at work and he had vowed to make it the last. Tomorrow he'd quit. Kaput. Stephanie had mismanaged his time (again) and he was doing the work of two men and getting half the respect he deserved. Half the salary, too, if he thought about it. He chose not to. Even in the release of resignation facing all the facts at once can be painful.

He drove home (late) thinking about how he'd explain the decision to his wife but knowing that she'd be happy and perhaps they could take that vacation now and don't worry everything's going to be OK, and he started to cry. Sobs contended with bursts of laughter in his car on this lonely stretch of road at this late hour when most of his coworkers were already fast asleep.

It would be fine, in the end, he was sure of it. He had skills. He was young. He knew people. It would be fine.
The rain fell in a steady shower, gusts of wet and cold. The way ahead was dark and uncertain. He pulled over to let the worst of it pass. Would she really be happy for him? Or would she first give him that look? That fleeting glare of disappointment before she could will herself to play the good wife and console him.

The rain lifted. He released the emergency brake and fired the ignition and crept back on to the road. The streetlights flickered. Normally a flickering light is easily dismissed but sometimes, like when a shadow moves on its own accord or an animal moves in an unexpected fashion, the breaker in your conscious mind is tripped. This is not right.

Driving forward he sees the lamp at the top of the hill go dark and he muses that perhaps he could go to work for the city. Then the next lamp blinks out. No more light in the distance only a massive stretch of darkness that eats towards him. Fast. The trees in front of him are briefly swaying grass in a strong wind. It would be fine.



Adventure!

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#13

Posted 13 April 2012 - 01:39 AM Edited by TinTinn, 13 April 2012 - 01:46 AM.

AceRay, It was a good read. The idea about the darkness really represents fear and confusion. Damn, Otter posted after Ray, all well.

Okay, let me try.


Adventure

The glove box rattled continuously and created a bothering distraction. I leaned over from the free steering wheel and snapped at it with my hand, "Well that was a bad mistake," I heard a voice come from the silence that seemed so authentic. Every item in the box collapsed onto the passenger's seat in a lump, "Joe, keep your eyes lit on the road," the ghost like voice added. This spooked the young man and provoked him to get back into driving position, Joe stared over the dashboard into the open and dynamic landscape around him.

The suspension on the car was incredibly weak, "Oh no, not again, another distraction," that imaginary thought climbed back into reality, "Optimistic Voices" from 'The Wizard of Oz' began to play in Joe's head. Joe sighed as he focused on his review mirror, "Are you sure you're going to make it to your destination?" it asked again. The hay fields lapped over one another which soon formed a wheat paddock, a beautiful scenery for the drive to the hospital. "Do you feel proud, about becoming a father,"... Joe replied, "Of course," still listening to the rusty squeaks of the suspension, "Well you better stay focused, because the next distraction will be your last,"... finally, peace and quiet. Time for the mind to speak for itself and banish all negative thoughts, all negative dream characters, no more distraction.

..."So what was your name again"...

.....

Grandfathers Pipe

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#14

Posted 13 April 2012 - 01:47 AM

@Otter: Brilliant little read this was. Nicely written, a punctuation error or two but f*ck that. Marvellous, I love the way his mind flits from pessimism to optimism back and forth. lol.gif

@AceRay: Brilliant, I love how you play on what the mind sees in the darkness, are shapes really like that or is it just our minds? Brilliant little structure and I got a sort of old explorer theme from it, like 1920s but that was just probably my mind. icon14.gif

@TinTinn: Cool little piece man although adventure didn't seem to fit in with this it was still good. It was more of a psychological metaphor of perception? That was my interpretation anyway. lol.gif

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#15

Posted 13 April 2012 - 01:54 AM

QUOTE
@TinTinn: Cool little piece man although adventure didn't seem to fit in with this it was still good. It was more of a psychological metaphor of perception? That was my interpretation anyway.


It was an adventure through the mind and an adventure through the physical realm. The ending for the piece can be good or bad in the viewers description; either in the physical or mental realm.

Mokrie Dela
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#16

Posted 13 April 2012 - 10:10 AM Edited by Mokrie Dela, 13 April 2012 - 11:57 AM.

Grandfather's pipe.



The house is cold. The power's been cut off, with no one paying the bills.
I stand in the living room, with the bad decor, the mismatched furniture. Still the house smells of him. That smell of old people, but mixed with tobacco.
For years we tried to convince him to stop. He refused of course. Stubburn fool. Even when the doctors told him he still carried on. And now he's paid the price. The selfish....

It's our job to clear the house out. His will gave that duty to us. Everything i touch feels cold. I get chills up my spind.

I pick up the WWII helmet from the cabinet. As i run my fingers across it i feel the deaths of a hundred men, good and bad. Scars of war feel like little bumps and scratches. But of the hundred deaths, the most recent fatality is what bothers me.
I set the helmet back down with care as though it's a priceless antique, which in my mind it is.
Then I see it. On the coffee table. The little tin, and the pipe next to it. The fool! Why couldnt he listen to us? He'd probably still be here!
My mother of course is at home, her eyes shedding a perpetual rain of greif. My father's at the pub. He's too selfish to confort his own wife. Thankfully my aunt's conforting my mum. I take it upon myself to do the duty of the clear out. I hate it but I'm a good son. She deserves one after all.

I collapse of the chair, the pipe in my hand. I tamp the powder down and light it, smelling that horrible but missed smell. That's when the floodgates open. I begin crying, the tears of a hundred dead, the tears of oppression and revolution, of victory and defeat.
He's gone, he's really gone!

The man who'd fought for the world's freedom against NAzi Germany, who'd suffered the horrors of war, and had finally found happiness until his wife died. The man who survived that, the man who was indestrucible. Hitler couldn't kill him, the death of his childhood sweetheart didn't kill him. A house fire didn't kill him. A car crash didn't kill him.
But his pride, his foolish stubburn pride did.



Theme (How could i forget that!?)

Sports Day

AceRay
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#17

Posted 13 April 2012 - 10:52 AM

Gonna need a theme there Morkie.

Great story btw. Its sad and reflective, it really makes me feel about the main character.

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#18

Posted 13 April 2012 - 11:56 AM

Thanks Ace.

Theme's added - how did i manage to forget that!? Sorry bout that biggrin.gif

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#19

Posted 13 April 2012 - 03:07 PM Edited by Ziggy455, 13 April 2012 - 05:13 PM.

Sports Day, oh how I loathed Sports Day! Each year I’d be sat down in with the rest of the kids who were deemed too unfit to compete in the heavy races like the five hundred meters and such. I sat there pulling grass out of the field, my horizontally challenged friend, Butch, next to me. Butch has to wear a helmet on Sports day since last year when he lost the egg and spoon race. He noticed the winner of it was the same douche that had won the thousand meter sprint and the long jump. Edward Constable, the schools popular guy and ladies man.

I nudged Butch as he slumped next to me. “f*cking Constable!” he nudged me back “Does my nut in you know?” he said to me as he began to punch the grass. I empathized with the poor guy. Butch was a little strange, some would say he had autism, I just think he had the unfortunate destiny of being socially awkward, but I liked him nonetheless. And he wasn’t one to back down from a fight. “I know, but what are you going to do?” I said emptily looking at Constable being praised. Butch began to whisper to himself rapidly and I knew a little bit of an anger spout was to arise. “Butch chill it!” I said warily but he hit the grass harder. “No!” he yelled, running off suddenly and sprinting towards Edward faster than I had ever seen before. “Butch no!” the next few things that happened did so in slow motion.

Butch ran forward and head-butted Constaple head on in his chest and sent him flying backward, air barely escaping him in or out. Somebody grabbed Butch and I ran forward down the track, unknowing a race was going on. I sprinted and noticed I was beating the other racers. I yelled after Butch, crossed the finish line and was met with applause. That was when the head teacher grabbed me by the collar and slung me into detention with Butch. We suffered for months over that spectacle. Edward however never bothered to acknowledge Butch again which he had no quarrel with. Back to next year, with Butch’s helmet firmly set on his head I asked him if he was going to make a repeat of last year. He merely looked at me with a smile and told me “Whatever anybody says we both won last year, didn’t you get a first place prize for the race?”

Surprisingly I had received one in the mail and an invitation to join the track team. All thanks to my friend Butch and his head.

Lets mix it up!

Unexpected Homosexuality

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#20

Posted 13 April 2012 - 11:27 PM

The Hotel


Countless nights of silence and shallowness have gotten my feelings from calm to completely terrified of what was going to happen. Maybe it was paranoia or maybe I sensed something happening in the hotel before it happened, it turns out, guess number two was the correct answer. It was 3:15 am and I was asleep but having no dream, just multiple images going in my head. Images of horror, people dying, young children full of fear running for their lives, screams of terror echoing from down the hall and in the background was a grotesque creature in the back tracking a trail of blood towards the innocent, and next.... was me. I soon ran out of room 13 which was my room and quickly made my way to the lobby and up to the exit doors, but they were all locked. All the windows were closed and couldn't open. Everybody in the hotel was dead, families dead, the staff dead, innocent scared little children dead, and I was the only one alive. With no way out it was official........ I was trapped inside with a murderous demon loose in the hotel. How will I survive?

This is all I have, tell me what you think.

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#21

Posted 13 April 2012 - 11:44 PM

QUOTE (Dr-Mayhem111 @ Friday, Apr 13 2012, 23:27)
The Hotel


Countless nights of silence and shallowness have gotten my feelings from calm to completely terrified of what was going to happen. Maybe it was paranoia or maybe I sensed something happening in the hotel before it happened, it turns out, guess number two was the correct answer. It was 3:15 am and I was asleep but having no dream, just multiple images going in my head. Images of horror, people dying, young children full of fear running for their lives, screams of terror echoing from down the hall and in the background was a grotesque creature in the back tracking a trail of blood towards the innocent, and next.... was me. I soon ran out of room 13 which was my room and quickly made my way to the lobby and up to the exit doors, but they were all locked. All the windows were closed and couldn't open. Everybody in the hotel was dead, families dead, the staff dead, innocent scared little children dead, and I was the only one alive. With no way out it was official........ I was trapped inside with a murderous demon loose in the hotel. How will I survive?

This is all I have, tell me what you think.

The idea is to focus what you write around what the previous writer issues out. For a core little piece I liked it. I could imagine a scaly reptilian demon slowly moving towards the narrator and it'd be perfect for a little opening to a much wider story arc. But try and write something on what I've chosen.

Unexpected Homosexuality

Vercetti21
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#22

Posted 14 April 2012 - 02:11 AM Edited by Vercetti21, 14 April 2012 - 04:37 PM.

Unexpected Homosexuality


Bobby Hillcrest sat in the back of his mother's car, his arms crossed furiously against his chest. "I don't see why I have to go to school today," he complained. "It's not like I'm actually learning anything anyways..."

"I don't have time for this, Bobby," his mother said with a long sigh. She brushed on pounds of makeup in her visor mirror as the car sat motionless in the morning rush hour traffic.

Bobby looked out the window and watched the street vendors and passers-by. He liked to people watch, and he didn't care if they caught him. After all, he was just an innocent twelve year old boy.

The boy took a particular liking to the corn dog vendor.

Just as rapid as Bobby edged forward, the seat belt jerked him back. "Mom! Can we get breakfast here?"

"We'll get breakfast at McDonalds, Bobby," she replied quickly. She threw her blush into her purse and dug through it carelessly for her lipstick container. "Bobby, sit back in your seat. God, I'm going to be so late for work."

"But it'll be faster here!"

"I said no, son." His mother uncapped her ruby lipstick and pressed her lips together. She painted them and blew herself a kiss in the mirror before folding up the visor. "Besides, you can't eat corn dogs for breakfast."

"Yes I can!" Bobby protested.

The traffic inched forward sluggishly. His mother honked the horn impatiently as she rolled down the window just enough to let out a war cry. "Oh my God it's a green light! Gooooo!" She pressed on the gas pedal, but the light turned red, and their fate had been sealed. Bobby's mother pushed the brakes harder than she squeezed her husband's hand at the birth of their only son. Her life flashed before her eyes.

The car stopped. Traffic whizzed by in a blur, only inches away from the front of the car. Bobby screamed. His mother's fingers gripped the wheel.

There was a tap at the window.

"Say, you folks alright? I was working at my stand over there and couldn't help but notice how close that was."

"We're fine," his mother said, brushing her hair uncomfortably. "Thank you." Her eyes remained fixed on the traffic light.

Bobby glared into the stranger's eyes from the backseat.

"Here you go," the stranger said. Holding two corn dogs, he stretched his arms into the car. "No charge. Have a great day!"

She smiled and handed Bobby his corn dog, then promptly rolled up the window. "Don't ever trust anyone in this side of town, Bobby. These people are savages." She took small bites of the corn dog wiener as she waited for the light to turn green.

Bobby bit in to his corn dog triumphantly. His morning was off to a good start. Secretly, he almost didn't mind having to go to school that day.

The light turned green and Bobby's mother floored it. The car sped out of the surrounding traffic jam and she turned towards the entrance ramp of the freeway. Just as the car hit fifty miles an hour, the tire blew out, and the car hit the oncoming median with violent force just as Bobby took a massive bite of his breakfast. For Bobby's mother, the air bag deployed, knocking the air out of her momentarily. She would likely recover from her wounds in a hospital bed overnight. For Bobby, who had mischievously unbuckled his seat belt to grab his corn dog, the only thing stopping the impact was the massive wiener lodged in his throat.

At that moment, Bobby's deepest, darkest wish came true. He did not have to go to school that day.

Barfight

Otter
  • Otter

    sea dwelling madman

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#23

Posted 14 April 2012 - 11:50 AM Edited by Otter, 14 April 2012 - 03:00 PM.

@vercetti - I was reading along, enjoying the story and style up until the first false start, and I thought the contrivance of this fella somehow noticing the near brush (and suddenly appearing in their window) was a major giveaway, this comically overly irresponsible mother was just too much... The whole "narrowly missing a disaster then suddely experiencing it" trope....


... Then I laughed. Good job. smile.gif

Mokrie Dela
  • Mokrie Dela

    МОКРЫЕДЕЛA

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#24

Posted 14 April 2012 - 07:17 PM

I enjoyed it, also saw a spot of irony at the end. But lol what a sh*t mum!
I actually like how the subject was done subtly - almost merely hinted at.
Was a kind of light reading.

I won't post my one as I'm on y phone and (see the typo I left in?) its a pain to write on here AND I'll have to deal with autocorrect sad.gif

El Zilcho
  • El Zilcho

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#25

Posted 14 April 2012 - 07:36 PM Edited by El Zilcho, 14 April 2012 - 08:26 PM.

I'm bored. A small town like this is bad enough for entertainment on it's own. Let alone on Fridays. My weekend stretches ahead, an abyss of hollow social interactions and mandatory exchanges of plastic camaraderie. People are starting to tire me, Society beginning to grate like a pair of tight underwear. My expulsion from school last Monday very much a big disappointment to all those concerned (minus yours truly), but I found it was the most constructive thing I'd achieved all year. Most of all, I learnt a very important lesson from it - pencils can pierce eardrums.

This chain of thought brings me to a solution. A quenching of my thirst for adventure. My problems faded, my brow is warmed by that figurative thought bulb. I have an epiphany .

Standing slowly from the booth in the corner of the room, I step forward. In one smooth motion my bottle of Stella Artois is broken into a shank, and I'm swinging. Swinging at those bastards relaxing down in front. How dare they.

"hahaha!" It doesn't take long for me to realise how sociopathic I sound. But no one can hear my conscience, so I slap it quiet. The first girl in front of me starts bleeding profusely from the back of her head. Her man stands up in semi-shock as I jam my glass dagger into his jugular. It's stuck deep. I pull back with oceans of crimson enveloping my hands. I slide and vault over the table, my hands slipping on the liquid and I collapse in an untidy mess on the ground. I prop myself on the screeching woman next to me. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She shrieks again but I can't stop her, my hands are too slippery for choking.

"It's not a roller-coaster, please. I'm trying to concen-" I'm cut off by a chair breaking over my back. f*cking prick hasn't even given me time to stand up straight! God, pain isn't so fun when you're on the receiving end of it. But now I have a worthy adversary.

"What is this, WWE?"

Tilting back I see my assailant reaching for the table. My youthful vigour means I'm on my feet first, and therefore it means my feet are in his face next. He's sprawling over the broken glass, shaken but still standing. His friends bounce over. Fortunately our omni-benevolent friend God has left a knife on the dining table within my reach. He was always so good to me.

Cause and Effect . My hand flies forward, independent of thought. I jam the blade awkwardly into the First Man's sternum, making a sickening grinding noise on bone. I bite back an overwhelming urge to gip as I retract it, before diving forward, slicing like an E'd up Bruce Lee into his rugby friend. I'm not sure what I cut (I'm standing under particularly bright lights) but it's soft and falls away easily. A soft squelch is heard as it lands, making my day.

It's all too much now! The other four are stupefied, but after a moment of fearful and instinctive hesitation they charge over the scattered shrapnel and toward me. I turn and sprint, forgetting that I'm now facing the corner of the room. This error of judgement means I meet and greet a fist to the face, before clattering my head against a fire extinguisher on my way down. Perfect! I spit out a loose tooth and clutch the extinguisher, tearing it up from its holder and cracking it upon the cranium of the Third Man. What a satisfying snap that made! Next up is a jet of CO2 into the advancing denizens.

I let out a roar of victory as it chokes and slices up the mob.

In a flash I run through. The cloud of white covers my track; in a moment of adrenalin I realise that if I had a kung fu style, it would be likened to an inverse Octopus. Not long now. First table. Bar. Steps. Screams and footsteps behind me already.

----------------------------------------

"Neil? What the f-" Jack stares blankly as his friend of 3 years flies out of the Royal Oak. He's drenched in blood, left eye swollen, shirt torn and carrying a fire extinguisher.

"Not now!" Neil darts into traffic. At least 7 men follow. It's going to be a good chase...

----------------------------------------
An absurd piece, forgive me tounge.gif

Promotion

Cuban Warlord
  • Cuban Warlord

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#26

Posted 15 April 2012 - 12:30 AM Edited by Cuban Warlord, 15 April 2012 - 12:32 AM.

Promotion



Jerry Romane sat in his office dreading what was coming next. "Is this finally it? Has cutting out of work to go to lunch early or flirting with the 22 year old interns within the company finally caught up with him?" Now agitated a bit Jerry stood up in his smoke gray business suit with the red tie. “Maybe it won’t be so bad after all” Jerry thought to himself. ”Getting fired can’t be that bad can it? I hate it here and sure I make good money but I’m sure with a bachelors degree from Hampton University I could get my foot in the door anywhere.” Jerry glanced over at his desk to the picture of his beautiful fiancé with brunette hair. She was considerably younger then him and many of Jerry’s friends always wondered how he landed a bombshell like her. Beside the photo was a cup full of pens and pencils along with a calendar and his day planner. On the far right of his desk was the black telephone he used in his daily functions as a telemarketer. Outside of Jerry’s office various secretaries could be seen in white tops and black skirts (which was the dress code for females) walking about along with other members of the telemarketing company in suits talking on their phones with potential buyers. Outside the sound of phones ringing and fingers crashing against a keyboard could be heard. That sound alone could drive you mad had you worked there long enough and Jerry was almost to that point. While in mid thought Jerry’s telephone began to ring. This was the call that would ultimately change his life he thought. After 3 rings Jerry hesitantly picked up the phone. “Jerry Romane speaking how may I help you?” A soft younger female voice replied “Hey Jerry, Mr. Elroy will see you now.” Jerry smiled because he knew that the voice on the other end of the line was Charlotte, a beautiful new blonde secretary that the company just recently hired. “Ok, Ill be right up, anyway how you doing Charlotte?” After a few flirty giggles Charlotte responded “I’m doing just fine Jerry thanks for asking.” “Well what do you say me and you go get a drink some night after work?” After another flirty giggle Charlotte answered “well sure but aren’t you engaged?” Now trying to hurry the conversation Jerry replied “Don’t you worry about that, I just want to go to a bar and have a few drinks and have some friendly conversation. Anyway we’ll discuss this later, I better get up there.” After glancing across the office to where Charlotte worked Jerry hung up the phone. Outside the office he could see Charlotte with her black earpiece in and her blonde hair. He could see she had the top button undone on her top and underneath it revealed cleavage. She quickly peeked over her station wall and gave Jerry a tiny smile and a wave of the hand. Before walking out of the office and closing the door behind him Jerry though to himself ”man what I would give up to hit that?”


Now it was all business, this was the moment of truth for Jerry. As he walked calmly across the building towards the manager’s office others gave him a look as if they would never see him again. Some of his co-workers began silently betting on his future and fighting over who would get his office once he was no longer with the company. Now outside the manager’s office door Jerry politely knocked and waited for a response.“Come in” a stern voice said. Not wanting to keep his boss waiting any longer he opened the door and stepped inside. A man wearing a fancy black suit was standing inside with his back to the door glancing out the window. Mr. Elroy had been with the company 25 years and was promoted to manager of the local company not even a year ago. Not afraid to use his newly anointed power he had a reputation of showing people the door if he didn’t like the results. “So, I take it you know why you’re here Mr. Romane?” “Well no not really sir” Jerry replied nervously. “As you know Mr. Romane I’ve been monitoring your work for a while and I’ve been disappointed with what I’ve seen so far to say the least.” Jerry was now visibly sweating and knew what his fate was going to be. “Recently I’ve fired a few members of the company that were not doing what I’ve asked in we are in desperate need of a sales manager. I’ve taken a look at you sales and I must say that you’re the 2nd best salesmen and have a very loyal customer base.” “Thank you sir” Jerry responded. “With that being said I need you to buckle down Jerry and be a role model within the company. As of this moment you are the new head of sales manager.” Jerry now relieved with the news couldn’t find words to say as if a cat had his tongue. “Well sir I don’t know what to say other than thank you, and that I will make you proud.” Mr Elroy turned from the window and walked casually over to Jerry. With an outstretched palm he shook Jerry’s hand. “That will be all” Trying to let the news sink in Jerry turned around and walked out of Mr. Elroy’s office. As Jerry walked back toward the other end of the building with a grin on his face the expressions of his fellow co-workers were that of someone who’d seen a ghost. They all looked on in surprise as he walked past them in a gleeful manner. As Jerry made his way back into his office he picked up his phone and thought to himself ”I could really use that drink right about now” and he dialed Charlotte’s number.

The Casino

TinTinn
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#27

Posted 15 April 2012 - 06:07 AM Edited by TinTinn, 15 April 2012 - 06:22 AM.

The Casino

We drove into unguarding territory that night. The road lines, beamed throughout the highway and loomed into the distant horizon. The yellow patterned road lines, lightend by the cars spot lights such as a lighthouse would in the dark mornings.

I sat in the front passengers seat, smiling over at the mate in the back seat amused, telling his old town stories with joy to his girlfriend. The two in the back giggled, both genuine couples but only friends, nothing more or less, "and we walked over to Mrs Amembers lawn, and before we could even turn out backs to run..." Erine hyped the story for instense drama. Suddenly, laughter broke out in the backseat. I grined and turned back to see the driver of the car, rolling his sturdy eyes to the nights road ahead, "Will you two shut the hell up in the back!" Jack yelled, turning his head around for a split second, "It's almost midnight and I'm feeling anxious," he continued.

To pass the time, I studied the landscape. Really difficult to see in the darkness but shades and images came to view. The four of us, all middle country folks only looking to find our fortune and create good times and tracks as we moved closer to our destination. It was very quiet for some time, before Jack broke the silence by picking a tape and placing it in the tape recorder. The couple in the back were fast asleep, "This'll be good,"... he muttered, lighting his cigarrette," Viva Las Vegas, Liva Las Vegas!" blarred through the speakers of the Cappella, "Jesus christ!" Erine splattered, Samantha looking rather angry at Erine by using the lords name in vain, "I still can't belive that country kids, which the only things that excited us was home cooked bread and butter pudding, are heading to the city of sins!" I said, everyone agreeing.

I knew there was only a few miles for us to arrive to the front gates of hell, before the fuel gage began flickering, "Damn it, c'mon son, move it," Jack screamed to the Cappella. The car slowly rolled to it's stop, a few metres away from a gas station. "How are we going to catch up with the others?" Samatha worridly asked, climbing out of the car. "We can't catch up," I said, whinding down my car window for the fresh Nevada air. We all sat sombre for a while, staring at the dull gas station. It seemed crumby and run down, but just for tonight, they weren't heading into the city of their dreams, or any close to anything like that, no fancy casinos to sleep at, but for tonight, this was their casino. It may had been a gas station, but they made the best of it that night, it was the casino.


Awaken in my dream

Vercetti21
  • Vercetti21

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#28

Posted 16 April 2012 - 05:52 PM

I'm not sure I understand the new theme. Is that supposed to say "awaken from my dream"? Or were you going for something a little more Inception-esque?

El Zilcho
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#29

Posted 16 April 2012 - 05:57 PM

QUOTE (Vercetti21 @ Monday, Apr 16 2012, 18:52)
Or were you going for something a little more Inception-esque?

Go for that - a lot more potential.

TinTinn
  • TinTinn

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#30

Posted 17 April 2012 - 12:13 AM

QUOTE (El Zilcho @ Monday, Apr 16 2012, 17:57)
QUOTE (Vercetti21 @ Monday, Apr 16 2012, 18:52)
Or were you going for something a little more Inception-esque?

Go for that - a lot more potential.

Yes, inception like.




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