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Set your story in a place with extreme weather, but don’t use any weather-related words to describe it.
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Cold Comfort
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A wendigo howls outside the igloo, its relentless fury wearing on the young, pregnant widow whose husband died in my arms just before the long dark began. A full turning of the moon will occur before we see the sun again, and the beast outside will prowl for days, before its fury sates. In the dim light of an oil dish, I measure the food which the elders left for us."Bear-Slayer," she invokes my name. "What will we do?""Joyous Seal, stay here." I tuck my namesake's skin, a thick white fur, snug about her. "I will hunt for more food."The bear spirit flows in my veins. I can swim in the ocean and feel no cold. I tuck my fang, won during my spirit quest and wrested from the land of the Gods, into the hide sheath. Now, with the dark blade hidden from sight, I put it under my belt. Then three harpoons, mine from before I stumbled on this tribe's hunters, one in my right hand and the others for the quiver at my back. As an outsider, if they disappear while I am gone, none will know what became of them. And someone will take them.I crawl into the entry room, closing the curtain behind me. In the chill dark, I open the outer barrier, and enter the wendigo's realm. Its many claws tear at me, nipping at my skin in scores of tiny cuts. Mother moon should be visible, but the beast's dark body hides her. Even as it tears at me, it screams its harsh, voiceless cry, to rend my spirit. I unleash my bear, the totem spirit rising in me, filling my limbs with might and my eyes with rage."Raaahr!" my challenge meets the wendigo's voice, and its claws slack a bit. It does not care to face defeat, for, though terrible beasts, this form of manitou is born of cowardice, of weakness. I scream at the skies it roams. "Come monster. Match your mettle against mine. Your kind cannot defeat me. I have slain your ilk before. Test me if you dare."With each word, the claws retreat until finally the shadow-creature departs and the moon goddess shines her pleasure down at me. Yet the wendigo's breath remains, thick, billowing, impenetrable layers of white, like smoke from a bonfire as it renders blubber to oil. To find my way through the glowing mass, I close my eyes and use the nose of the bear to find a trail. Nothing at the moment, but I can wait. I trot away, waiting for fresh spoor.The breath abandons its caress of my exposed skin before I catch any scent. The moon still hangs in the sky, its light reflected by the white lands about me- endless broken plains interspersed with jagged upthrust crystalline spars where summer's freedom ground two floating islands together. Of all tasks, only hunting relaxes me. I imagine myself young, among my tribe, and free of the curse.Movement in the distance catches my eye. A caribou, a big male, but moving slowly as if it is either injured or old. My breath catches. I have run long enough I might have caught him- if I started with a chase instead of casting for prey. I need to close on him, and throw well, or the moon will set and permit his escape.I drop low, crawling through the loose powder on the ground. One limb, then the next. The starts shift overhead and the moon begins to sink toward the horizon. Too far to throw, but the light will fail soon. Long moments going slowly, then I am close enough for a charge.I leap up and run, a harpoon in my right hand, ready to throw. I release it just as my target lifts his head. The heavy stone head sinks in behind his shoulder blade. Blood spurts, a crimson mist which settles as carmine droplets on the white blanket which coats the ground. Three steps and he falls, though his legs continue to thrash. I approach carefully."Manitou of this noble caribou, hear my thanks. Your life means life for three- I accept your life as the great manitou will one day claim mine." He stills at my words and I finish him cleanly with my fang, its odd gray blade, ever-sharp, cutting the stag's throat so its blood flows and peace takes it. I gut the carcass, remove the intestines, but place the liver and heart inside my jacket, then lift the body onto my shoulders. The power of the bear grants me strength beyond normal men.Following my tracks back is easy enough- for a while. But then the moon sinks and plunges the land into darkness lightened only by the stars. Cold distant eyes of lesser manitou, many of them evil, stare down, watching, hoping for some ill to befall mortals. The tracks become less distinct as I trudge along, the burden preventing me running, but ensuring Joyous Seal and her unborn child will have ample food for the remainder of winter.The breath of the wendigo returns just as I recognize a pair of jagged spires from the trip out. Then, its body hides the stars, blotting them from the sky. I continue, expecting the claws to begin tugging at me, but they do not. This is a cunning enemy. It will not assail me direct where I might fight back. It keeps distant, hoping to confuse me, to lead me in circles until I die.Then, not ten paces from me, I spot its ally. A great white bear with a pair of half grown cubs. I have no choice. The mother will charge for my food. I toss the heart to it, which the cubs pounce upon, gnawing at the soft meat, still warm from contact with my body. The mother steps forward, but I lower the caribou carcass and place it between us. "I need only part of this meat. You may have the remainder. I too must feed hungry cubs."Placated by my obeisance, she waits. I carve off a haunch, sling it over my left shoulder, then slowly step back several paces. The bear watches, eyes on the fang I hold in my right hand, as if she senses the manitou power in it. The cubs finish the heart and, along with their mother, move on to the main body of the dead buck. I circle wide, then catch a scent of burning oil. I run back to the village, only to find the igloo I shared with Joyous Seal collapsed. I dig her out, but she is dead and cold, the bear-hide absent.Rage. My eyes burn with red mist. This is my curse, to be lonely forever. But I will have back my item of power, a hide of the white bear, my namesake totem. The elder certainly has it, luxuriating in its warmth. I know his igloo, it is fronted by another, which has a trio of strong warriors. Men who will try to stop me from retrieving that which is mine. I decide to show as little mercy as was shown. I leap at the side of the main igloo, striking with my full force. Smaller men might take several blows to accomplish as much- Joyous Seal likely died terrified as her home slowly crumbled around her- but I manage with a single impact. The elder wails as I grab the bear-hide, puling it from him while he cowers.I will not stain my fang with needless blood. Instead, I run to the open lands, to the dark, to the waiting malice of the wendigo. Because, for all its evil, I prefer the honest assault of ripping claws and roaring hate to the quiet treachery of men.
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1,956
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You check the time. Perfect. As intended, you've arrived fashionably late.
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Coming and Going
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Your chauffeur opens the door and you climb out of your pristine thirty-eight Cadillac. The single piece roof, proof against Chicago weather, makes it your favorite among the small fleet you own. The concierge holds an umbrella to keep the rain off as you walk casually to the door. You check the time. Perfect. As intended, you've arrived fashionably late.
The Lexington is not as impressive outside as in, but even at a mere ten stories, it has an elegance which reminds you it once housed the infamous Al Capone. The reception is in the Red Parlor, a cozy but opulent spot where you have attended many private receptions.
As you walk up the grand staircase toward the second floor, a young couple passes you. He is tall and fit, likely one of the men who kept their condition after the war. She is charmingly dainty in her fox fur stole and a daring red dress nearly as short as was in fashion at speakeasies two decades ago.
They pass you, but do not pull ahead and a moment later you realize they are also headed to the Red Parlor. The man, no the gentleman, holds the door for the woman, then motions you to go in. You almost forgive him for his cheap Woolworth suit. You recognize the type, just like Jason in the twenties, a slightly older dashing war hero with a younger wealthy woman. That young woman, more girl really, will certainly be disappointed when his charm proves insincere and he has an affair with his secretary.
The memory of Jason taints your smile as you give a gracious thank you, but you will not let tears cloud your eyes. Not in public. You enter the room, head held high. You are the great woman, a recent widow, you wear black in your sorrow, but nothing will bow your head. Everyone looks up as you make a grand entrance.
"Misses Hunt, how good to see you," Police Commissioner Ian O'Toole greets as you come in. You expect to see him at a meeting of the Police Benevolent Society, not Daughters of the American Revolution. He gestures to one of the most comfortable chairs, with a tray of ladyfingers and other
hors d'oeuvres. The sommelier stands nearby with a bottle of Cheval-Blanc. The girl with the fox fur stole sits across from you but doesn't touch the tray of treats.
"Misses Hunt," She says. "I'm Andrea Bonetti-Trousdale. I hope you can help me. I had a bit of trouble a few months back, but I'm old enough now to apply for membership."
"Forgive me dear," you say. "I had no idea this was a private party."
You understand the ploy. A pretty woman with a troubled past but documentation of her ancestry brought a genuine war hero to attest for her, along with the police commissioner and anyone else she thought would help her cause.
The girl, you forget her name, leans close and whispers, "We have something in common."
"Do tell."
"My late husband was murdered some months ago. I just left off wearing black."
"And you already found a new man." You know it's a catty comment the moment it passes your lips, but you have lived your whole life in society where each interaction is a chance to score points for determining who is who.
"Mark was kind enough to escort me here." She waves a hand and the sommelier pours a glass which the girl sniffs, then sips lightly. "He's actually a war hero able to attest to my reputation."
You take the glass offered and sample deeply. You did guess the little tart's intent. She's so inept you don't have to worry. You can sound her out, determine how best to use her, and proceed without a care. No need to be at your best, the competition is young. You could probably take her man way despite being twice her age. You glance over to see him engrossed in conversation at the side of the room. Fine figure, and a war hero. He must be a man of the world, ready for a woman, not a girl who clings to her past. Though a widow at such a young age complicates that aspect. Still, you have your own avenues, and it might be best to not get a reputation for poaching young men from other women.
"And the commissioner will attest to your good character as well."
"I hope the refreshments are up to your standard. I borrowed an extremely talented chef from a friend to have them made."
You pause, realizing another ladyfinger is at your lips. You take a dainty bite, then turn back to your glass. "Excellent, just like the wine. Do tell me about what you hope to accomplish in Daughter's of the American Revolution. We have charitable responsibilities. We are not just a social club."
"Mark told me about his many friends who came back maimed and I thought that we might set up a charity which hires them for the work they can still do." She's animated as she lays out a well considered plan to alleviate the misery of war veterans. You have to give the chit her due. She seems earnest and competent. The first is good, but he second make her competition for you. The wine soothes your frazzled nerves as she talks about prices, wages, pensions and how men might raise their families with just a little help. It's all too much, but etiquette requires you to play along.
Finally, working your way through a third, or is it fourth glass, you reach the end of your patience. "It's clear you are eager. What was the problem that forces you to appeal to me for aid?"
"Mark is so much better at this part than I am."
She motions with her hand, not quite a wave and her man, this mysterious mark obediently drops his conversation and walks over. He has a smooth gliding stalk, just the sort of athletic potential you appreciate in a man. "Need something Andrea?"
"Could you tell Misses Hunt about how we met?'
"Not much to tell ma'am. A gangster murdered her husband and the police thought she might be involved." He acts nonchalant, but he has hard eyes which bore through you, tantalizing and titillating at the same time. You take another drink and your glass is empty. someone promptly refills it and you take a soothing sip.
He's waiting for your response. "How did you get drawn in?"
"Early on, they thought I did it." His smile is annoyingly ingratiating, as if he knows you see right through him. He wants the main play and the girl is just his rout to get to you.
"But neither of you were actually guilty," you say. It is just like all the other games you have ever played. He gives away when he wants yo to talk.
"Yeah. I sort of broke the story wide open. You can ask the commissioner about it."
"How delightful. I am certain you forged a lasting friendship in such desperate times."
"Me and Al went through the Pacific together. We have a lasting friendship."
"Mark. Don't tease the woman."
"Sure thing Andrea."
You silently thank him for giving you the name. Andrea doesn't know it, but she has already lost her man to you. You give him a smile, the one which looks innocent enough unless you are the intended recipient.
"So, I hear you knew Jason Hobbes. He fought beside my dad in one."
The color drains from your face. Poor Jason, he deserved better. You take another drink, a long one. "I prefer not to speak of him."
"Sorry about that. Didn't know it was such a painful memory."
You want him to just shut up. What would he know.
"How about we talk about your gardener, Jose Perez."
"The man who murdered my husband for three thousand dollars?" You try to stand, but your legs betray you. Your breath comes short. "What makes you think I want to speak of him."
"No need to get hot. I just thought you wanted to know we might have a lead where he went?"
"Remember how I was about Lucien," Andrea reaches a hand out imploringly to the man. A widow, she understands you. "Mark's a detective. It's how he thinks. He probably thought you wanted to know the entire force is still looking for your husband's killer."
"Make no mistake," Mark says. "We will find the culprit. Then they pay."
"Not the entire force?" That is too much. Even for a man as substantial as your husband. It's been two weeks and nobody has seen a sight of the gardener or the money your husband removed from the bank two days before you found his body.
"Don't need them," Mark says. "We got a tip where he went on Friday night, the evening before the murder. It was his sister's birthday. He failed to show up."
"So he was plotting my husband's murder for some time."
"I don't think so," he says.
"Your husband only had the money from Thursday. Jose couldn't have been planning anything before then," she adds. Then they have one of those pauses you have to fill.
"That makes sense."
"But the murder was too slick," Marks says. "You husband was ambushed and strangled without anyone the wiser. With all the servants around your house, somebody had to know everyone's Saturday schedule to make it work."
"Jose was with us for ten years." You are on safe ground here. It's something everyone knows.
"Except he was missing from the night before."
"He must have been hiding somewhere, waiting for Paul." You add some tears for good measure.
"And that is what gave it all away." Mark no longer looks alluring. He's a predator, homing in on the kill. "You never shed a real tear for your husband of twenty years. Andrea was married for only a short while, but it tore her apart."
"I may nor be as demonstrative-"
"Except about Jason." His accusation makes you gulp. Why did you have to drink so much wine? You need your full wits about you. "See, you're doing it again. He died in twenty-three and you still can't hear his name without giving away what he meant to you."
"Who do you think you are?" You try to be menacing, but somehow it fails.
"The way I see it is, Paul Hunt murdered Jason back then, but got away with it." You gulp as he guesses the truth. "You found out a while back and planned to get justice for him. But you wanted to get away with it. So you went to Joe Accardo. Racked up three grand gambling and went to your husband about it. He quietly took the money from the bank and then paid off Joe. Now I know some guys, so I found out about your debt and how it was paid off Thursday night."
"That means Perez had no motive to murder your husband," Commissioner O'Toole says.
"But you did," Mark says and you have to almost laugh at how perfect your alibi is. Instead, you must retain your pose as bereaved widow.
"I admit I did not want my gambling debt to become scandal, but that does not make me a killer." You hold up your hands. Hands weak with years of idleness. "How could I hold a cord well enough to strangle a person?"
"Now we get to the best part." Mark's eyes practically glow as he speaks directly to you. "You used to sail regattas with Jason. You know all about tying ropes. You used nylon cord to reach the hemp line that killed Mister Hunt to the electric belt sander in the woodworking shop your husband maintained. You waited for your husband all night, having left a dummy in your bed. Your loyal maid saw it when you were so still she thought you died. She said nothing to the police, but confessed to her priest. One of the altar boys overheard and told a friend and word got back to me.
"Now, once you husband walked in, you looped the hemp over his neck and turned the sander on. It tightened the rope, but only left burn marks on the nylon cord. Once he was dead, you untied everything and went back to your room. the timing was tight, but you made it."
"How did I dispose of the rope?"
"Better than you managed with Jose." He smiles again. "Corpse hounds found him this morning. that's why we set this up so fast. To get you before word reached you and you disappeared with your husband's money."
"No, that can't be." your breath comes short. Jose went into Lake Michigan.
"Why not? Andrea asks. "I still think you're innocent, but why couldn't Jose be dead after a falling out with his partners?"
"Partners?" you ask, confused by the rapid accusations and muddled by the wine.
"Wasn't Jose sort of short?" Andrea asks. "How did he get a rope around your husband's neck without him fighting back? He must have had a partner."
"That's it," you bounce with excitement. "Some unknown partner did it."
"No good." Mark says. "The dock where you keep your boat, logged it missing about eleven Thursday. Your husband was busy paying Accardo. You took it out and killed Jose to frame him. see that's where you made your mistake. You killed one too many. Your husband from a sense of justice, you might have got off with a slap on the wrist. But Jose, the handsome Latin gardener, and your lover, you murdered him in cold blood. That'll get you the chair."
"I never," you begin, but the commissioner shakes his head.
"We have enough now. You're under arrest."
Sobbing, unsteady on your feet, they lead you away. If it is not he exit you expected, at least you made a good entrance.
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3,164
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Write a story in which characters are warned not to go into the woods.
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Concede
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Nestled between the banks of the river that ran from the top of the Shefgough mountain, the crystal clear water filled with multicolored leaves that slowly ran under the fallen branches that laid on the banks. The swiftly running water slipped round the rocks sticking out of the river making a crooked walkway to the dying meadow. As the water runs south, the sun sets in the west, just over the deep, mystical grove that sat on the left side of the river was a village. The leaves of the trees above the dark grove were already in full color, the trees made the water look as though it was a crimson rainbow wrapped in old rustic coppers, with a hint of green. The air of the early evening was slowly turning into a suffocating cold, the village knew that by night fall, the darkness would emerge. The village was preparing for night fall. The triplets gathered water from the river, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson finished boarding up the last window of the market, while Miss Mary finished gathering the children into the market, and Mrs. Emma helped the village settle onto the hand made benches, lined with small hand carved animals. As the others paid mind to what was going on and to the dangers of the night to come, little Liko was standing at the edge of the grove. The edges of the grove were starting to turn black, the air was starting to fill with the cold, and every single animal had gone quiet. Little Liko heard no crickets, nor did she hear even the faintest foot step of her lost kitten. Little Liko knew the story and the reasons not to venture past the small line of rocks that separates the village from the grove. She knew them all to well. Her father had been telling her the story for as long as she could remember, her mother always thought that little Liko was too young to understand. Father would always say “You are never too young to hear the truth.” Little Liko took one small quiet step over the rock line. Little Liko thought that if she was quiet quiet enough she could find her kitten and not be found by the darkness that hid in the forest. Her breathing quickened as she continued to slowly make her way into the grove. A dark presence was starting to make its way towards little Liko. As she moved deeper, the darkness stretched out a smooth long arm, and on the tips of its hands were claws dripping in a thick dark substance. “Liko! What are you doing?!” Little Liko spun around. The panic on her mother's face was something that she would never forget. Mothers face seemed to age ten years, her light grey eyes shined, and from them started a fast trickle of tears. Why was she so upset? I crossed the line and nothing happened, thought little Liko. Running back to her mother, the hope for finding her kitten before night fall lingered, but she was the only one who knew the secret to the grove, quiet is the key. Mother grabbed her daughter and collapsed to the cold hard ground once they were behind the rock line. Mother shook with fear as she held little Liko tight against her chest. “Don’t ever cross that line again!” Mother said with a quiver in her voice, although it was hard to tell because of her thick accent, or simply because mother’s voice was tremulous. Sometimes it was so thick little Liko could not tell if mother was mad at her or happy. Mother stood and dragged little Liko toward the market. The sun had finally set and the air started to suffocate the life of everything it touched. “Ladies, gentlemen, and children. The time of Venzor has begun. We have all heard everyone’s own versions of the story, so we all know that we will be safe in the market for the next twenty four dark hours.” Mr. Johnson was the man that had quite the unbelievable talent for being able to calm the members of the village, with his ringing voice. Though living next to the grove on the night of Venzor, no member cared less if Mr. Johnson had three eyes. “Tonight we will start off Venzor with a story.” Mr. Johnson stood in front of the room, then walked around the room to the left, for he wanted to keep his scratched face away from the others until the truth gets out. The villagers sat with their families, each family prepared meals to last them through Venzor. The market was just big enough to fit the village, and was the first building to stand in this valley. When the first Johnson family settled down they built this market to protect themselves and the villagers from the grove. Mother, father, and little Liko were in the back of the market next to the locked door. Father did not want word of what little Liko had done just before nightfall to spread, for it could bring danger to the village. Mother could care less about everyone else, she was just relieved that little Liko was safe. “Let’s begin this night.” Mr. Johnson drew the village back to him as he placed a tall stool in the middle of the room. He sat with his hat touching the low candles that were scattered across the ceiling. His body facing father, mother, and little Liko, for Mr. Johnson knew everything about the village and the people that lived their. “Venzor was once known as a man. Many, many years ago he set out into the grove to destroy the darkness that comes out every five years. Venzor told his brother to stay back and make sure that nothing crosses the rock line, even Venzor. So Venzor set out that night into the groove. No one knows what had happened to him but the only thing that we know for sure is that after he left, horrible sounds came from the grove. It was not more than three hours into the twenty four hour night fall. Venzor’s brother knew that something had happened, because when his brother came to the edge of the grove, it was not just Venzor. He was surrounded by a dark hovering thing. Venzor moved forward but it was not at his own free will. Quickly Venzor’s brother thought fast and took the enchanted rocks out of his satchel and threw them at the dark thing. The enchanted rocks formed a line. Venzor took a step forward but was thrown back, for the rock line kept it back. So, the village is forever protected from the dark thing that took brave Venzor from us.” He lifted the candle that was resting in his left hand to his face to show his battle scars as he tells his wife. “I got this because I was very unlikely to concede the truth, I was little and wanted to see if the truth was real. So I crossed that rock line. And I was attacked by something that was not from this world. I can’t tell you how I lived but I can tell you first hand that you should never cross that line.” He took a sharp ragged breath and said. “No matter what you have to pay.” Mr. Johnson was just telling half of the story. What his wife did not want everyone to know was the real reason for crossing the line was to save a small crying newborn. It had been three hours of storytelling, and the village was falling asleep. Everyone knew the story, they also knew that they would be safe as long as the rock wall was kept in place. The candles were blown out, blankets lined the floor, every child curled up with their parents. Little Liko waited for mother, father, and the village to fall asleep before she snuck out under the table that sat under the window where her parents slept. If you opened the doors and pulled up the rug you could crawl out from the market. Little Liko headed to the grove with her mothers coat wrapped around her body. Step by step she made her way farther into the grove. The cold air made it hard to breath but little Liko kept quiet, kept her breathing steady and softly calling for her lost kitten. The grove was in full darkness, the only way to see was by squinting and placing your hand in front of you to feel your way. About four clicks away the darkness heard little Liko’s call to her lost kitten. The darkness knew just where to find Little Liko’s kitten, for she was on the right path and if the darkness left right this second, little Liko and the darkness would meet. A small meow cut threw the suffocating air, little Liko heard her kitten, she was just behind the tree in front of her. Little Liko was so full of anxiety that once she grabbed the kitten she would run back, and did not care about making a single noise. For even brave little Liko was terrified. The darkness jumped right in front of little Liko making her scream bloody murder. Although little Liko had never seen the statue of Venzor, for it was in the dying meadow, but little Liko knew who was standing right in front of her. Little Liko’s body was in full tremors as tears ran down her face, she could no longer feel the cold. She turned to run but the darkness was still in front of her and in its hands was her lost kitten. “Please do not-t hurt me.” Little Liko cried as terror took over her florid features behind a wobbly voice. “I am- I am so - so sorry.” The darkness bent down and blew the hair out of little Liko’s face and said toneless, “Why are you crying my daughter? I am not here to hurt you.” Little Liko’s expression hardened as the darkness studied little Likos features, she did not match all of Venzors features only some such as his light complected skin. Her bright white hair was tied back, she had beautiful mahogany eyes that sparked against the blood red moon behind the darkness. Venzor’s eyes burned, nostrils flaring, his mouth twisting against his mottled face, with something that was not a thing that this world could, nor should ever handle, and who was to blame him? For little Liko was much bigger than when he had last held her, but to be fair she was just a newborn then...
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9,875
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Write a story that spans exactly a year and takes place in a single room.
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Confined
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I woke late that morning. Mom has told me the previous night to remind her to go to the hospital because she had an important surgery. My alarm woke me up and I called my mom's number and she didn't pick up. I stood up sluggishly from my bed to come online and chat with friends. Traditionally, we ate together on the first day of the year but lately everyone has been busy working their ass off. I was hungry, my room was basically like a food store and practically lived in my room everyday.
"What was I going to do today?" I thought to myself letting out a deep sigh. It was boring and too peaceful without the family especially my younger sister who had so many complains about her job and men. That's basically a typical Saturday. I kind of miss them but I'm going to take the opportunity to get work done.
Ding, Ding... I got a text from my from mom saying "Stay indoors son, a deadly virus is spreading rapidly, I am with dad and your sister, we will find a way to be home soon". Damn it!, I barked throwing my phone across the room. Why does it have to happen today? Why?, it is a new year for crying out loud.
I turned on the TV and it was all over the news, "Some civilians have become violent and ruthlessly attacking others, this began at the south east end of town but now it is spreading rapidly everywhere, the government has issued a national lockdown", the trail of the news lingered in my ears as I opened the my window to see an horrendous site. It was brutal, scary and violet. Everyone was running helter-skelter, the police station near to our building had already been destroyed, broken window, damaged cars. The street was red, filled with blood and swarm of flies. The air was to difficult to breathe in. I saw our neighbour devouring her own son. "ewwww...", I said loudly. The woman looked up at me with scary eyes and I ran off and draw the curtains.
Sirens wailing off, helicopters in the sky, explosion here and there, screaming and crying, violent behaviours. It dawned on me, it was like the Zombie apocalypse I watched in movies. I was scared. My family might be out there too infected like those people on the street. I tried calling my mom, she picks "Mom--", I said with a shaky voice.
"Don't worry son, we are in ...", a bang and then dead silence. I screamed "Mom, are you alright?". No answer. I fell on the floor and started crying. Then a thought came to mind. I picked up the landline and started calling the emergency line "We are sorry and can't help on the moment, stay on the line...", I didn't wait to hear the sentence before I hanged up. I tried calling my sister's number but it was already switch. She uses her phone 24/7 so she probably ran out of battery.
I tried calling dad, he uses his phone the least, he wasn't picking up too.
Wild thought were running through my mind.
The night was coming near and no calls, nothing at all. I sat in front of the TV all day watching the news maybe I could get some information about people being rescued but nothing came up, even the broadcasting stations were attacked. I still sat and watched hoping for some good news.
Now the streets were getting a bit empty and I planned on finding my parents somehow, I know it was dangerous but I have got to give it a try. I got a rope, a touch, foldable ladder and a bag of snacks and drinks. I set down the ladder and was trying to get on when I notice an infected person running toward it, I quickly brought back the ladder and returned inside. I heard earlier in the news that you shouldn't allow the virus infected person detect your location or else they will come for you. Now, I was becoming scared and I started to pull heavy stuff towards the door to ensure my safety. I got a pile of newspaper and glued it to my window and my transparent door. Took me hours but I was able to relieve some stress.
After I finished, I started planning how I was going to eat carefully without wasting till all this was over, I barely had enough to eat but I could manage as we have some extra foodstuff hidden for emergency. I carefully and planned meticulously my eating timetable.
It was survival for the fittest and I was ready to wait for my family to come back to me after all this was over.
My room was like a secret room in our house and it had everything a normal house would, I was working indoors almost every time so my room was built to have everything I needed. I called my friends to ask how they were doing. Only one picked up and he told me he was struggling cause he was in the school hostel when this happen and they were other people in his room and there is hardly any space to even breathe. At least he was with others, I'm left alone stuck here, it is hard enough to get to the main building to my house because I have to go outside. I sealed my other door which was the only shortcut to the main house. "Foolish me", I thought.
I fell asleep and woke everyday and it day kept getting worse. No calls. No family. No nothing.
-------
Eleven months passed by and I have lived my life on all the snacks and little food I had in my room. I ate noodles everyday and now I was running out of food stuff. I peed in bottles each day and try not to do the usual No 2 stuff. I was getting tired. Everyday, I prayed to meet someone I could talk to.
The government assured the public they were getting a cure to all this but I wonder if there is any public (humans) listening except the Zombie liked creature not understanding what was been broadcasted. I felt like the only one alive. It is been almost a year now and I have even heard any sounds made or communicated with anyone since the last. I called mom's number everyday but no one picked up. I was losing faith and at the same time having faith.
Today was practically the same as every other and I felt like I was going to die. Everyday, I have always recorded a video of myself, how I spent each day and talking about my family and if anyone finds them they should get in contact with me. I uploaded them on my YouTube account and I haven't even gotten any views or comments. I was on my last snack today, the noodles finished last week.
I just sat close to my window taking a peek at what was going on. Everyday was like a movie as I was the Zombie like creatures display their everyday horror. Whenever I peed, I rolled the bottle down at night when they were asleep to kill them with a foul smell. I even took a dump one in one of my favourite shirt and threw it downstairs. I was mad at them for getting the virus but how can I blame them they got infected too.
I was getting ready for the night and probably the last day on the surface of earth when I saw a light flash on my window through the little uncovered space. I was perplexed and jumped off from my bed thinking I was located by the Zombies already. I ran over to my closet and close the door slightly but the light kept flashing. I walked silently to my window to avoid attracting any attention. I could barely see but I switched on my phone's flashlight and flash back in response.
The flashing stopped and I froze to death on the spot. "What if I sent a signal to a Zombie that I was alive?", I thought to myself. Anxiously, I flashed the light to scan the apartment where it came from and to my utmost surprise, I saw a writing on the window, "So you are still alive", well that didn't end well for me as it sent different chills to my spine. I switched off my light and went to bed. I prayed for my life.
The next morning, I was hungry. I had no water or food. I peeked out of my window but the writing on the window from last night was gone. I was scared and relieved. Scared if I was been stalked by a Zombie and relieved I wasn't eaten last night.
Suddenly, I notice a movement at the window from last night, I was determined to find the stalker this time around. I watch closely and saw someone pacing up and down the room. The curtain was slightly open. It was morning and there was no way I could communicate or else else I was going to be discovered.
I mustered courage and removed newspaper from my window and looked into the other apartment and our eyes finally met. I was frightened. Was she human or a Zombie too?
She looked happy to see me like she knew me all this time, she tried to say something but I could hardly read her lips so she wrote on the window in bold latters. "Hi, I'm glad to meet you, my name is Lily and I'm not infected, so don't be scar...", the last bit of the message couldn't contain the window but I already understood. I was relieved to know that I wasn't the only normal person alive but still paranoid.
She slightly opened her balcony door and then her saw well. I opened my window and carefully stuck my head out then we communicated for a long time. It was the first time since January.
We planned to talk later at night when the Zombies were away. I was happy. Finally, someone to talk too.
I woke up the next day only to find out that I slept off, I opened my door and let out a disappointed sigh thinking she wouldn't talked to me. She finally came out and I apologized. I told her I ran out of food and she promised to send some over.
We planned on how to send stuffs over to each other and she told me she was going to throw a rope. We tried severally but either the rope was too short or kept missing the railing. I was starved to death and at the verge of fainting when the last trial became successful. We were happy and she sent me food everyday.
We sat outside covered in blanket just looking at the stars and hoping everything will be back to normal. Rain fell and we survived by drinking rain water and the snacks.
Things were changing for me too, I was happy and kept on recording my video hoping someday someone will see it.
Few days after I stopped seeing Lily, she hasn't come outside or communicated with me. I was beginning to get scared she was attacked. Two days passed and Lily was no where to be found. I tried talking on the walkie talkie she sent before she disappeared but no responds from her.
I was beginning to get sad again when I got a message from the walkie talkie, she said she had went out to get more food as there was nothing left. We fought that night because she didn't say anything to me and it was too dangerous. Later that morning, we settled our differences and each day became brighter with her around even though distance was a barrier.
-----
Two weeks left till the year will end, the government made an announcement that they have found a cure and they will start searching area for survivors and try to give the vaccine to the Zombies. It was very hard to send a signal out there. Lily and I struggled so and we got notice by a Zombie, now was the beginning of trouble. Group of Zombie attacked Lily's flat but she escaped to safety. She was going to come to my place but it was difficult as the Zombies were keeping an eye on me too. We cut down the rope linking to my room and I had to survive on the snacks I saved. We communicated through the walkie talkie each day and continued to send signals hoping we would be found.
On the last day of December, I posted another video again talking about my self and Lily. I was hoping someone will see it, prayers do work I believe even though it takes a longer time. That evening, I got over 5 million views and comment that my video was going to be sent to the government. I was happy and talked to Lily on the walkie talkie but she sounded so weak and I felt she fainted but there was no way to help her as I didn't know which flat she moved too. I got a text from mom, "Son, I hope you are safe, we are coming home soon", the joy in my heart knew no bounds as I hurriedly called her, I talked to dad and my younger sister and told them about my friend Lily. My dad promised to send help over quickly. That night, a helicopter came hovering in the building and found Lily, they said she was infected but has a stronger immune system. She was rushed to the hospital to get vaccinated.
I owe it to Lily how I managed to stay alive even in this confined space where it felt like my own world was crashing, she came and save the day. The vaccine was going to be distributed to the infected patient and Lily was getting better. That night, I had the best sleep of my life in a very long time.
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5,457
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Write about someone whose job is to help people leave their old lives behind.
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Counselor
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I grew up in a poor-family setting where alcoholism was ever-present. My step-father did not like me, and I liked him even less. I spent much of my preteen and teenage years on the streets trying to earn money to feed myself. I sold newspapers on street corners, often staying out all night long. Also, I sold another newspaper, The Grit, which I received weekly through the mail. I took this door to door or sold them at the entrance of one of our local grocery stores. I sometimes ordered greeting cards and garden seeds from the ads in comic books and sold them alongside my newspapers. Also, I carried a shoeshine box everywhere I went trying to earn an extra two bits. During warm months I pushed a lawnmower across town in search of lawns to mow. After I turned sixteen years old, I bought my first car, a 1963 AMC Rambler, for which I paid a hundred dollars. I got myself a morning paper route. I had to be up by 2:00 am every morning. I had to roll the newspapers and have them thrown before school time.
I was sixteen when I smoked my first joint. It was the beginning of drug use that would plague me for many years to come. Four days after my seventeenth birthday, I enlisted in the US Navy.
My first hitch in the service was for three years. I reenlisted for another four years and got married to a girl from my high school. We birthed two children together before I reenlisted once more for another four years and transferred to a ship home ported in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. We then had another child born. After I was in the service for ten years, I applied for a program to become a jet fighter pilot. It would require me to attend Officer Candidate School (OCS). Upon completion of that, I would be given a commission as an ensign. After receiving my commission, I would then go to flight school to train as a pilot. It took a few months before the news came back that I was accepted. However, by that time, I had realized I would not be able to continue smoking pot and fly supersonic jets. I chose pot.
At the end of my third hitch, I got out of the Navy. I had served a total of eleven years. I returned with my family to my hometown in Arkansas. It took a few months before I was able to find employment. After getting a job, I enrolled in a technical college to work toward a degree in electronics. I was working twelve-hour shifts at my job and attending school full time. My work shifts rotated every six weeks, and I would also have to change my school schedule to coincide with my work schedule. I was only getting to spend about five hours per day at home. On my way to work one night, I fell asleep behind the wheel and drove off a bridge. I landed on the roadway below. My car was totaled, but I had survived with only a cut when I broke the steering wheel with my chin. After my wreck, I decided either the job or my school had to go. I came to the decision that my school was most important for my future. I quit my job.
I came up with a plan to make a living by selling pot. I went to Dallas, Texas, and found a connection for buying quantities of marijuana. I had another friend who knew a source in Houston, Texas, where we could purchase marijuana. The two of us began making weekly trips to one of the two cities and bringing back twenty pounds at a time. Ten pounds for my friend and ten pounds for myself. This endeavor went on about a year and a half before something went haywire, and we lost our money. For my loss, I ended up getting an ounce of cocaine. The cocaine did not sell nearly as fast as the weed did as I did not know cocaine users. I ended up using as much as I was selling. I got strung out and ended up dropping out of school for a semester. I decided to go back into the Navy. After taking the required ASVAB tests and scoring high, I would be going back into the Navy in an electronics job working on guided missile systems. After two months with no definite word when I would be leaving for school, I changed my mind about going back in. I began selling marijuana again. Then six weeks later, I was busted with five pounds. I got a four-year sentence and served nine months in the state prison. After my release, I stayed off drugs until I had completed my parole requirements. Soon after the completion of my parole, I began using methamphetamine. At first, I was snorting the powder but soon began injecting myself with the drug. I became a small-time meth peddler just trying to make enough to support my habit. I did this for several years.
I eventually learned how to cook meth and manufactured it on a small scale for about a year before getting busted. I got a 15-year sentence for that. Instead of locking me up, I was allowed back onto the streets, telling me they would call me when a bed came open within the next few months. Those few months turned into 2 1/2 years. While awaiting my bed in prison, I found myself arrested another three times for possession of meth. I received a ten-year sentence for each of those arrests. My wife and I were divorced by then.
At the age of forty-seven, I entered the penal system to serve my time. When I first entered prison, I felt as though I would never see freedom again. I knew I was a drug addict and did not want to change. I would somehow continue my drug use while in prison.
A few months after being incarcerated, I transferred to a drug abuse program. I did not want to be there and told the free world counselor so. The counselor told me I would have to complete thirty days before I could sign out. I told her I would do my thirty days in the hole. She then replied, “Fine. You’ll come back to do thirty days in the program.” She sent me to my cell to think about it. I spent three days all sulled up. After those three days, I concluded my life would never be any better than it was at that very moment unless I could somehow turn it around. I told my counselor I would try doing thirty days in the program. The program was 9-12 months. I did complete the first thirty days. I convinced myself I could do another thirty days. I struggled to take in all the information I could. I set a goal to become a substance abuse counselor myself. My counselor only told me I did not have what it takes to be a counselor. I did not let that deter me and continued to share my goal with the group. I graduated from the program in nine months. After graduating, I transferred to another unit to serve out the remaining term of my sentence. To my surprise, I went to a unit that had a counselor training program. I first had to complete the three-month program as a client. Then I stayed on as a counselor in training. Being a counselor inside a prison was not an easy job. Most of the prisoners were just as I had been in the beginning. They were addicts and did not desire to change. They only wished to do their time and get out so they could continue with their lives. Many resented another prisoner having any authority over them. My style of counseling was different than most of the other inmate counselors. Most of them liked to grandiose their addictive lives. They talked tough and made it seem as though they were drug pins in the free world. Some inmates only understood tough talk, but many of them were more like myself. It always made me feel good when an inmate told me I had said something that suddenly made them realize they could change their lives. I have now been free for ten years. It has been eighteen years since I last got high from drugs. I’ve run across a couple of guys who went through the program while I counseled. Each of them told me they had remained drug-free since their release. Of course, I cannot say I alone am responsible for changing any lives that went through the program while I counseled there. However, I like to believe I played a part in those who managed to turn their lives around.
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5,012
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Write about a couple who have just moved to a place that one person loves, and the other hates.
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Couple who have just moved to a place that one person loves, and the other hates.
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The first couple out of the three couples had ended up in a place which one loved and the other hated. The question now arises as to how they ended up in such a place and continue to pull on with appearance of peaceful and prosperous living.Uma elder of the two sisters has the rare X factor in her which even though she could not get the best out of i.e. the X factor in the war with financial burden in the family but gave her an upper hand in taking certain decisions in the groom’s family, irrespective of encountering a stiff resistance from her mother in law.As a brand new bride entering a new richer family, wedded to a stranger, subjected to the new family set up required a careful maneuvering, cajoling the groom, comforting the elders, consoling the depressed, condoning the young ones for their errands and gradually gaining confidence and garnering support from those who mattered the most in the groom’s family. All these battles fought and forging ahead victorious to win the war. After winning the war, rule like a queen, expressing intentions, putting pressure on the helpless groom to move to places of her liking that was concealed in her heart from the initial days, not even initial days, days prior to the marriage when she dreamt hibernating in the land of her choice.Usha the younger of the two was good looking but did not have the X factor of Uma and was not very outspoken about her desires as to the place she would wish to spend her marital journey. As luck would have it or unlucky it looked, at the beginning, transported her to places she did not even dream of. She was married to a widower, which as you know is a factor that plays a vital role in the trade off in the business of marriages. Poverty played a prominent part in both the marriages. With obvious choice for families that are better off financially at least when weighed wisely and inwardly even though appearing oddly, awkwardly, out of the worldly, for the outside world.The bridegrooms in both the above cases prevailed upon the brides Uma and Usha in the initial days but slowly but surely had to surrender to their wishes as both were aware of the consequences and did not have the energy or time to wage a losing battle and realized very well that in their loss lies their victory.The second of the three couples became couples under extreme circumstances. Harish had completed his mechanical engineering and thereafter finished his Master of Business Administration from one of the most reputed institutions in the country. This embellished his prospect of becoming one of the most sought after groom in the country. But as fate would have it, he had to attend a small assignment in another important city and during that few days probably less than a week his singular identity metamorphosed into what is termed as couple. But at the same time morphed the prospects of a most sought after groom and punctured the plans and preparations of the groom’s family and relatives. The place lost its relevance as it had other major issues rendering the like and dislike of a place not worthy of discussion, debate or consideration.The third of the three couples was the one of which the girl was divorced with a son under her care and quite pretty to look at. This condition was suitable for a groom who did not have any off spring from his first wife after marriage till she left for heavenly abode due to a fatal illness. Both of them as couples were quite matured, and were engaged in a midlife companionship with worries as to their financial branch of existence being almost negligible.The groom after a few more years has now become a matured married man with that he has also become uncomfortable being rooted to a single place for longer time and therefore like to draw out plans to travel to different places, visit historical sites, arrange desert camps and his opting for marriage was one of the mean reason to satisfy his desire to explore new places and share and relate his views to a companion. The bride, now his wife would not mind joining him in most of his trips and travel destinations but hated places which made her miss the daily soaps she would watch on television and thereafter air her views in the women kitty parties and register their comments and remarks and serve her husband along with breakfast and anything that is missed, during lunch and her future plan of action at dinner time. It was now also for the same reason that is to escape the repeated and at times tortuous feedbacks of the women’s meetings and topics that became issues and remain still a bone of contention to address and deliberated over in detail and find solutions and bring up further questions and topics to keep the kitty parties everlasting. The wife also had to give time to her son who was pursuing his education and took good amount of her time, which was in a way a good distraction from ruminating over the place they are stationed. He was also their hope for taking them on trips and circumambulating the world as well as make best use of their remaining life by experiencing different cultures, hearing different dialects and seeing various types of costumes and outfits specific to that region.After reflecting upon the liking and disliking of a particular place by each of the couples broadly points to the fact that liking and disliking of a place is a temporary feeling and if at all a lasting feeling it can be suspended by directing our energy and attention to other tastes and aspects of life. It reminds of a saying “Some things are good for sometimes, all things are good for sometimes, some things are good for all times, but all things are not good for all times.”
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7,068
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Write about someone telling their family they won’t be continuing the long-standing family business.
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Courage and Living Life Freely
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It was a beautiful autumn day. The crisp air felt so good. I could smell the pleasing and familiar aroma coming from Johnson's Bakery. Today just seemed like a wonderful day. However, today was not going to be a wonderful day, because today is the day that I was going to tell my parents that I won't be continuing the long-standing family business of working in the Johnson Bakery. I felt terrified as I was walking home from the bakery.
As I shuffled my feet my thoughts raced through my mind. What if they are disappointed in me? Ugh, of course, they are going to be disappointed in me. I am entirely wrecking the tradition of every child born from the same generation as my Great-Great-Great-Grandmother to work in the bakery as soon as they reach the age of twelve.
I arrived home and walked up the porch steps and into the living room where my dad was watching football and my mom was flickering through a book about famous bakers. Here goes nothing, I thought.
"Hey, mom and dad," I said.
"Hi sweetie," my mom replied with a smile.
"Um... Mom, Dad, I need to talk to you guys", I told them in a nervous voice.
“Ok, come sit down,” my dad replied. As I took a seat next to my dad, I could feel my palms start to get sweaty, I swallowed my hesitation and blurted it out.
“You guys are not going to like this, but I do not want to continue working in the family bakery.”
“Not acceptable, you are going to continue to work in the bakery Oliva”, my mom replied without any emotion in her tone.
“Mom, I just want to be a normal high school girl; I want to be able to hang out with my friends after school! All I ever do is go to school, then go to work, and then I come home, eat my dinner, do my homework, and then I go to bed,” I told my mom in a frustrated voice.
“Well, she does have a point. Maybe she can only work on the weekends,” my dad nicely pointed out.
“No! That is my final answer and it is not up for debate!” my mom replied with rage.
“It is up for debate! We will compromise and Olivia will have some time off of work in the week,” my father confidently told my mother.
“Fine!” my mom grumbled.
“Yes! Thank you, mom, and dad!” I exclaimed.
The next day, at breakfast, my mom and dad told me that I did not have to work every day. My mom told me that I would be working on the weekends and on Mondays and Wednesdays. However, I did not have work on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday.
Thanks, you have absolutely no idea how much this means to me, I told them, gratefully. Your welcome sweetie my dad told me.
“You know I always have lived my life so strictly. My mother was very strict with me when I was a child. As a child, I wanted to live my life freely. However, by the time I was about your age, I just learned that my mother wouldn’t allow that. Olivia, I am so sorry if I ever made you feel that feeling of not being allowed to live your own life, and having to always do what your mother wanted you to do. I know that feeling and it is such a horrible feeling. Once again, I apologize for the way I have treated you and I hope you can forgive me.” My mom told me.
“Of course, I will forgive you. I also want to thank you for telling me that, it meant a lot.”
“No problem sweetie”, my mom told me with a smile.
Later that day, after school, I was on my way home, when I got a text from my friend, Lexi. It said, “Hey Olivia, want to go grab some coffee, with Julie and Eve? I will pick you up in fifteen minutes or so if you want.” I replied, “Sure, Thanks for asking!” That was awesome! I was able to actually say yes and not have to say that I had work. This afternoon is going to be so much fun. I thought to myself.
That evening when I came home from the coffee shop, I ran into the living room and I told my mom about how much fun I had, and I thanked her once again. You are so welcome Oliva, I am so glad you had fun with your friends. She replied.
That is the story about how Olivia was able to live a normal high school life. All Olivia had to do was build up a little bit of courage and it drastically changed her life.
Afterward.......
Olivia continued working for four days of the week for the rest of High school. After High school, she convinced her mom to not have her work at the bakery at all, so she could go to college. She had received a scholarship to go to a college where she could learn how to become a better baker. After college, she was able to become a famous baker and she opened up a new shop. Olivia wanted her workers in her shop to be able to live their life freely and to have courage. That is why she named her bakery, “ Baking with Courage and living life freely.” A lot of people thought it was a weird name, and they made fun of her, but Olivia did not care. She did not care if people made fun of the name of her bakery, she just wanted everyone to know that her bakery is more than just a place where you can get a lot of yummy baked goods, it is a place where you can learn how to live life your own way and a place where you can learn to have courage. Olivia was very grateful that she was able to build up her courage or else she would have never been able to be living the life that she was living.
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2,960
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Write a story where one character needs to betray the other, but isn’t sure if they can.
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DID You Know?
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Himika sat at the head of the long table in her kitchen, holding her head in her hands. She had done it again. She was a witness to a murder again. And she could do nothing about it. She will not be able to report it either, she would go to jail, probably for life.
The throbbing in her head did not reduce. She downed two aspirins with a giant glass of water.
“Harshini, I can’t take it anymore. Can we not go out late at night on murder sprees anymore?
Please, I am begging you,” cried Himika into her sweater sleeve.
“Himika, don’t you see it. This is for your own good. Redemption. You will start feeling better soon. The minute you stop hating yourself for not being able to do anything that day, I will leave your life for good,” said Harshini.
Himika blankly stared at the wall ahead of her. She could do nothing. She was no longer in control of her own body. She had to listen to somebody who was twelve years younger than her about how she must go about her own life.
Himika needed to see her therapist again. Her therapist had been extremely helpful. She knew that doctor-patient confidentiality was the most vital thing. But she had still been hesitant initially. She had no idea what was going on inside her body. She would wake up in the mornings, sweating through her nightgown though the air conditioner had been blasting cold air all night. Or she would wake up in a different room, completely dressed. She knew she was sleep walking, and probably for a long time.
Himika had decided that she would need a therapist’s help a couple years ago. She had been right. Her therapist was one of the nicest people she had met. She would always listen to all of Himika’s problems patiently. She had finally allowed her to hypnotise her after paying her for sessions worth three months.
Varsha, her therapist, had understood all of her symptoms and had been very sympathetic. She had told her that the only way to help herself from this situation would be to make friends. She had introduced Himika to Harshini, two people who should never have co-existed without the other’s knowledge. They were like sisters.
Himika had been admitted to the psychiatric ward for a couple of months and had been released on her own wish as she had improved and wouldn’t pose a threat to anybody. This had obviously not been the case. Varsha had thought that Himika was a majorly improved version of herself. But this had only calmed Himika’s nerves in the mornings after her sleepwalking sessions. They did not help her understand why her system wouldn’t work under her control. It had added a lot more questions with fewer answers.
She had been a witness to three murders and two muggings in the last two years. But never once had she reported this to her therapist or anyone else, not even under hypnosis. She was extremely loyal to the murderer-mugger, Harshini. How could she ever report this friend of hers. They would both spend the rest of their life locked up in the psychiatric ward for prisoners. She would never let that happen. She had tried to stop Harshini on multiple occasions but had never succeeded. She was way too strong for her. Plus, Harshini was so young, only twenty. She was thirty two. How could she surrender this person.
Her therapist had tried on multiple occasions to try and coax out this information from Himika. Varsha knew that something was missing, just not what. And she was striving hard to get to the bottom of all this.
It did not help that she had to have sessions with Himika and Harshini at the same time. As much as she tried, she could not hypnotise Himika without Harshini butting in.
Varsha was having the toughest time of her professional life but her will to get this poor woman back in control of her life remained undeterred.
Himika had to visit her therapist at four in the evening. It was over. She did not want to protect Harshini anymore. She didn’t care if both of them would be locked up. But she wanted all this to stop.
As a child, she had watched her step-father kill her mother in cold blood, then try to kill her as well. She had barely escaped. Her neighbours who had heard vicious sounds emanating from her house had called the cops. They had come just in time to save her. Else she wouldn’t be here today.
She would never forget that day. She hadn’t seen her step-father since.
She was twelve then, and had gone through immense trauma. She had tried to forget it all, and in reality, had forgotten everything. But the person who would never forget any of this was Harshini.
Even now, if she ever saw any man abusing a woman, she killed the man before he had a chance to kill the woman. She had mugged two men and killed four men and adding to this list was the man who was unfortunate enough to cross Harshini’s path on her outing last night.
Himika wanted all this to stop. She did not want random men to pay the price for what her evil step-father had done. But Harshini did not think so. She wanted to protect other little girls from going through what Himika had gone through herself as a child.
Himika got up from the table and stood in the shower, letting the cold water run down her aching back.
As soon as she stepped back, Harshini was all up in her face.
“You are not going to tell that little rat are you.”
“Do not talk of Varsha like that. She is here to help us.”
“No, she is not. She is here to try and lock us up.”
“You cut that out right now. We are going to visit her and you can do nothing about it.”
“Or can I?”
Himika did not like where this was going. She wanted to tell Varsha all about what had happened in the past two years. She did not want to keep these secrets anymore.
She dressed up and picked up her handbag. This was it. The game was over. She would get herself locked up if she had to.
Himika and Harshini walked into the psychiatrist’s office together.
“You better not tell her anything,” hissed Harshini.
Himika just kept walking in. She sat in the waiting lounge and smiled at the receptionist. When Varsha came out of her office, she jumped to her feet.
“Hello Himika, nice to meet you,” said Varsha. “Come on in.”
Himika followed Varsha into the office.
“You keep that mouth of yours shut,” hissed Harshini.
“So, how are you feeling. How has the past week been?” asked Varsha.
“Not exactly great. I wanted to tell you something,” said Himika.
“No you don’t,” the voice in her head wouldn’t leave her alone. “I will take control of your entire body and there will no longer exist a Himika to tell this female what I do.”
Himika held her head in her hands again.
“Take it easy. Do you want some water?” asked Varsha.
“No, just give me a minute,” said Himika.
She knew that if she gave her alter-ego away to Varsha and owned up to all the murders, she would call the cops. There wouldn’t exist a patient-doctor confidentiality paper anymore. These things only went so far. Plus, she couldn’t give away Harshini, she will never be able to tell on someone living inside her body, ever.
She finally looked Varsha in the eye and said, “I want to admit myself and this time not leave until I am completely fine.”
Varsha looked a little surprised. “But last time you constantly asked us to discharge you.”
“I know. And I don’t anymore. Just bring the papers.”
Varsha called her secretary.
“Are you crazy,” screamed Harshini, in her brain.
“No, this is the only way I can stop all this late night madness. I can’t take it anymore. And until you leave me, I am not going anywhere, even if I live here until my last breath.”
“You are crazy, woman.”
“You are sure about this right, because I am assuming you want us to keep you here even if against your will. That’s what it means when you say until you are completely cured,” said Varsha.
“Yes, I know. And I am absolutely sure,” said Himika.
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1,390
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Write a short story in which the last line is the countdown to midnight on New Year's Eve.
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DOOMSDAY CLOCK
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Harold Spitzer was thrilled to be celebrating New Year’s Eve, 2030 in Times Square. Tonight, he and his family would be in the midst of the crowds at midnight, but none of them minded. They’d watch the ball drop, then take in other New York City sights over the next few days, about as far from Pasadena as they could get.A nuclear physicist at Cal Tech, Harold had two years ago joined the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists as a junior member of the Science and Security Board. His knowledge of foreign countries’ nuclear arms meant he was an important player in where that board set the Doomsday Clock. After years of inching closer to the final midnight minute, the Board had moved the clock back thirty seconds last year. Harold had been outvoted but the environmentalists were optimistic. This year he was going to suggest two minutes towards doomsday. He found out that Putin, in his thirty-seventh year of power was ramping up the arms race. Kim Jong Un of North Korea had again broken a nuclear treaty with the US for the twelfth time. And it was even more worrisome that China was now supporting Jong Un, rather than reprimanding him. Finally, the current satellite images showed the current leader of ISIS, controlled several nukes; these facts pushed Harold’s future vote for ticks toward midnight. The US had to do something now, or Doomsday was coming.Today, though, Harold wasn’t thinking past the stroke of midnight. Ginny, his ten-year-old daughter, couldn’t take her eyes off the Naked Cowboy, still parading and serenading around in his underwear, boots, cowboy hat, and guitar, despite the freezing temperatures. “I want to take more pictures with him, Dad.” She bounced on her toes and clapped her hands. The Cowboy gladly accommodated the selfies, as long as his wife gleefully poured tips into the cowboy’s guitar case for the privilege.Brad, Harold’s fifteen-year-old son, vacillated between staring at body painting participants and demanding a snack at McDonald’s. “Don’t you want real, New York food?” Harold urged. “A corned beef sandwich or a slice of New York pizza?” The boy rolled his eyes and shook his head.His wife, Mary, had let him know of her own plans. How an intelligent woman, a board-certified psychiatrist, could be so passionate about astrology was beyond him. She followed horoscopes in the daily paper and went stargazing on the rare clear Pasadena night. Her New York city goal revolved around getting to see Madame Zulaht, the famous Time Square astrologer and prognosticator. Mary followed the crazy woman on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and whatever was the latest social media. The astrologer’s office, next to McDonald’s had an insanely long line. Of course, Mary had forgotten to make an appointment with the woman, so who knew how long she’d be there. Based on the number of people waiting in line to consult with Madame Zulaht, it appeared that many individuals wanted to see what their 2031 future would bring.“I can’t believe how many people want to see Madame Zulaht’s,” Mary said as she took her place in a line that snaked around the block. “Take your time,” Harold said to Mary. “Aside from crowds and noise, not too much happening here much before midnight.Nearing six o’clock, the square was filling up with people eager to catch sight of the Ball Drop. Jugulars, hula-a- hoop contestants, mimes, and dancers entertained the hordes. Celebrities took their place on the broadcast stage, not that Harold would recognize any of them. Given the squeals coming from Ginny, she did. Harold kept turning his neck back and forth so often he got a crimp in it. “Dad, I want to take more photos with the Naked Cowboy,” Ginny whined.“Ginny, said her Dad, “three hundred pictures of you and the Naked Cowboy are enough. You’re going to fill up all your memory on your phone and won’t have any space for photos of the ball drop later. Besides its getting so cold, your battery is going to run out. Damn, cheap Apple phone.”“Dad,” whined his daughter, “you should’ve gotten me an iPhone 17. Ginny ran over to snap another picture with the Cowboy. He didn’t look amused at a ten-year-old monopolizing his time.“Hey, Pops, can you throw me a fifty or just give me your plastic? I want to get another burger and fries,” Brad said. He held out his hand.“No, no, and no. We have to stay together,” said Harold. “This crowd is growing by the second and I don’t want to lose anyone. We’ll walk over to Mom and see where she is in line. I don’t know why she had to see her today when there’s likely to be fewer people tomorrow. After that, Brad, we’ll try to fill your bottomless pit of a stomach.”“What about me?” asked Ginny.“Maybe we can rent the Cowboy by the hour. Probably cheaper than all the tips.”They found Mary in line. “Are you sure you have to do this today?” Harold asked. “Madame’s blog states that the spirits and stars are so aligned today that the future is even clearer than ever. For only five hundred dollars I can ask one question and she will not only give me an answer, but her crystal ball will print out a picture of her answer.” “Sounds like a scam to me,” said Harold. “Hey, ask her if I should vote to move the Doomsday Clock forward or back.”“You’re so cute, Hank. I want to ask if I should retire early and start teaching astrology classes.” “We’ll be broke without your salary,” said Harold. “Aren’t there already a few hundred astrologers in Pasadena?”“I have to follow my heart. I’ve seen it in the stars.” His wife stood her ground.Harold and the kids stood with her. At least Mary’s place in line had moved within view of the door. He smirked at the “open” sign. Of course, who wouldn’t be open on this money-making night of the year?He looked up at the Time Square Clock at the end of the square. Bright lights spelled out December 31, 2030, 11:51 AM. The Ball was still at the top of the tower. Harold smiled and said, “Okay, Mary, the kids and I are going to eat. Call me when you’re done.” He dropped a kiss on her lips. As they were passed Madam Zulaht’s door, it flung open and a woman ran out, screaming and crying hysterically. She ran blindly into Harold and both dropped to the ground, her purse flying from her arm. The contents spilled out on the street.Brad reached out and offered a hand to the woman. She pushed him away, stood still screaming, and then ran down the block. Brad extended his hand to Harold, now sitting up among the scattered contents of the woman’s purse. “That,” said Harold “is an example of a rude New Yorker.” He began to gather the dropped items and return them to the purse. He easily picked up her comb, mirror, lipstick, car keys, a Billion Dollar Candy Bar and a home remedy laser tattoo remover. But as he was retrieving her wallet, he picked it up upside down and her credit cards and a picture fell out. The picture floated to the curb.“Dad, look,” said Ginny. The voices around them were louder, angrier. The sign on the Madame Zulaht’s door now read, “Closed Forever”.“Huh,” said Harold. “Kids, keep your eyes open for your mom.” He bent down to pick up the wallet. A small wind blew the picture towards him.Harold, Ginny, and Brad bumped heads as they all reached down for the photo. Laughing, Harold grabbed it and lifted it up. It was a photo of this Times Square New Year's Eve Ball and Clock. The time on the partially destroyed clock was 12:01. The Ball was in pieces, Times Square was in flames, partially incinerated bodies were everywhere and a mushroom cloud as seen in the background.10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...
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3,590
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Write a story from the point of view of three different characters.
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Dinner For Three
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Dinner For Three
By JOY DEEP SAHA
It was six o'clock when Breanna heard her mother's phone receive a text message while she was sitting on the kitchen bench.
"Mom, I bet it's a dad!" Breanna jumped up from the couch, the books spilling in front of her. She had wondered what story her father would read in one of his funny voices when he put her to bed at night.
Breanna's mother rubbed her temples and sighed softly.
"Honey, would you mind seeing if it's Dad? My head hurts a lot, but I want to cook a delicious meal for us tonight."
Sure, mom. Breanna went into the kitchen to check on the phone. His father had been away two full nights working on a malfunction in his company's warehouse that had left valuable inventory unsecured and vulnerable to theft. I could arrive like a superhero and save the day, but did it have to take that long? It's from dad!
"Confirmed Breanna excited." He's on his way home! "To support the family, her husband had taken on as many extra shifts and duties as he could to make ends meet. Times were tough, and he worked long hours, but that made Breanna's time with her father even better.
"Oh, that's fantastic news. Let's see what I can find to eat. "Mother carefully got up from the couch and added, "I would appreciate your help in the kitchen, Bree. I really don't feel good. "
"Sure, Mom. "Breanna looked at the phone in her hand and sent Dad a quick reply:
<2>
Great! Mom has a bad headache, but I'm leaving. Help her make dinner U soon!"
As Breanna opened the refrigerator door, she heard her mother sigh again. The light flickered and bounced off shelves that had been empty for too long.
"Oh, I think maybe just those beans and carrots tonight, darling. We could have some hot dogs to cook with too. Could you bring those for me?"
When her mother took two more headache pills from the box and put them in the palm of her hand, Breanna began peeling the carrots, just as her mother had taught her. Another beep from the phone distracted his attention, and he stared at the new message:
Red and sour, round and sweet, seeds of love that I like to eat.
Was that a mystery? Breanna lowered the peeler and studied the message carefully. Her father loved to entertain her with puzzles and rhymes, but she wasn't sure if she'd gotten one by text! .?
Red and spicy, round and sweet.
So what was red and spicy? Was it a fruit or a vegetable? She looked at the carrots and beans on the bench.
Seeds of love that I like to eat ... No, these were definitely vegetables because they didn't have seeds. It must be a fruit!
Red and spicy, round and sweet ...
Breanna went over all the fruits she could think of that were red. What about the watermelon? He thought. It's red and round inside. But while it was cute, it wasn't. I think it was spicy. Oh, what a secret!
Seeds of love I like to eat ...
Breanna remembered with a sudden breath that her father had told her about a fruit that everyone thought was a vegetable, which was formerly called the "apple of love." and sweet, red, and definitely hot.
<3>
I solved it! The food was ... a tomato!
Breanna giggled and took another carrot to peel. Her mother
slowly removed the clean plates and cups from the clothesline, and Breanna felt a twinge of sadness.
Her mother had had so many headaches lately, and Breanna knew it was because she couldn't find work and was worried about money, but she also knew that her father was a champion and worked hard to bring smiles to everyone to conjure up in the face. Especially hers.
Nobody had a father like hers, and she couldn't wait. Coming in so he could wrap her in his big, strong daddy arms and caress her cheeks with his big, plump, bushy face.
Thing!
Breanna answered the phone once more and discovered some other puzzle: Big and
sweet, don't look down on me, "Because I wear a crown.
Oh my god, Breanna thought. It sounded high and sweet like another fruit. But wear a crown? What fruit does a crown bear?
Breanna plucked another carrot while thinking about fruits whose names sounded like king or queen. She had often gone to the markets with her mother and was
reasonably sure a stand was selling "royal gala apples." But apples? They
were adorable, but they definitely weren't significant." It didn't seem long ago that her mother was this proud and happy worker, dressed in a beautiful dress and brightly colored earrings for her work.
He wished he could wave a wand and turn his mother back into that confident, handsome queen. He could even imagine her wearing a glittering jeweled crown as she smiled at everyone from her throne.
He also remembered his mother's wise advice in dealing with all kinds of people; Be like a pineapple, she said, be cute and wear a crown.
<4>
Oh my god, Breanna thought.
That is!
Big and sweet, don't humiliate me, Because I'm wearing a crown.
The solution was ... a pineapple!
"Bree, what the fuck are you giggling at?" Her mom's lips developed a grin and
the corners of her eyes rolled a bit.
"Oh, I'm solving one of Daddy's puzzles," Breanna replied, taking another
carrot.
Thing! it was again. Another SMS puzzle. What was his father doing?
Don't tell the pigs, I'm delicious, Cut into small pieces, and I'll make the dish.
Okay, Breanna thought as she put the carrots in a saucepan and picked up the beans. Don't say pig ...
She knew it meant not to lie, but what did it mean here? And what was so delicious that he made the dish? He turned to ask his mother and frowned. His mother unwrapped the sausages, and he could see that there were only four. If she and her mother each had one, her father would only have two hot dogs left. He would be hungrier than her, for sure.
At that moment, Breanna, although she loved meat, decided to give her father the sausage from his plate. If Mom doesn't do it first, she thought.
Wait a minute ... something went through Breanna's mind as she started cutting the dirty ends off the beans. Porkies ... did that mean pork or pork? ? All of a sudden, Breanna's mind shot through her mind eating pasta, pizza, and all those excellent Italian dishes with her parents, and
all she could see where those pieces of ham that made them so delicious.
That was it. Don't say pigs, I'm delicious, Cut into small pieces and prepare the
dish.
The answer was ... ham.
<5>
Before another minute passed, another message came. "My God, darling," her mother chided gently, "if you keep chatting with Dad,
we'll never cook dinner on time." She took some beans and started cutting the
ends off while Breanna puzzled over the phone screen:
Spend your money on something clean, fat or thin, it's all a pleasure!
m ...Breanna thought about it. I think I know what's going on. He mentally turned the puzzle, remembering that the dough meant money. But in
this case, it also meant something else. Especially when it could be thick or thin. His eyes widened as he discovered the meaning of the riddle.
The answer is... the pizza crust.
Brianna and her mother cooked the beans together. Mother took the beans and put them in the pan. Filled both pans with water and then turned the knob on the stove. The thing glowed orange, and the sausage was under the grill.
Gradually, they began to heat up and change color.
"Oh, I should wear this earlier," Brianna's mother complained. "It takes years to prepare food. It would be great if Dad came over for a delicious lunch. He hasn't slept for 48 hours and must be exhausted." She looked sad; Brianna hugged her and raised her head to her mother. A big smile.
"You know, I think my father hasn't left for too long to wait for dinner.
"He understands everything, the meaning of the riddle, the reason his father gave him now.
"I sent my last message to my father.
Melted slime makes me happy. Mesh dressing, mesh dad.
Three minutes later, his father came up with the most extensive and most delicious ham and pineapple pizza; he took it home.
<6>
She ran up to him, he smiled at her, full of vigour and vitality, she couldn’t believe
that he hadn't slept for two nights.
"Cheese," he screamed, "the last one.
The hint is cheese! I put tomatoes, pineapple, ham, and crust together and found that you brought the pizza home! I understand!"
"Yes, of course, my smart girl. You even changed the word "cool" to GRATE, which sounds like cheese in pizza! Now put it on the table and let's eat it! "He rubbed her hair, she inhaled his essence, mixed with the scent of delicious pizza, and suddenly believed that she was the happiest girl in the world, and nothing could upset her. When she saw her mother, she raised her head and frowned when staring at her father with arms crossed.
Takeaway pizza? This money is too much! There is a lot of food here, and we can't afford that much money. "Brianna's mother looked like she was about to cry. Her father stretched out his hands and walked to his wife. She refused to do so, but he kicked her in. "Honey," he muttered, "When my sweetheart, When my wife is too sick to cook, we have enough money to buy pizza.
"I mean, my great girlfriend has not been seen in two days.
I just finished the longest and toughest shift I have ever done in my life. Then we should celebrate more and spend some money. This time out of For these reasons. Life no longer gives us many moments to celebrate, so we must catch them when they come and celebrate with all our heart."
"But we have too little money..." His wife was silent; tears flowed down the cheeks.
"We have enough...for this." He stepped forward and gently held her hand.
<7>
"Tomorrow we will have a more relaxing lunch, but now we want to celebrate and cherish what we have. Here and now: a beautiful family that can stay together even in difficult times, not Disturbed by a minor setback in life. Looking for a job. I know you will. I never want you to lose faith in yourself. We are not. "
"No, Mom, Brianna interrupted her. "To me, In other words, you are still the queen of all pineapples.
It took Brianna and her parents ten minutes to finish a whole ham and pineapple pizza. At that moment, Brianna saw her mother become soft and burning; her father started to perform magic again, and suddenly the family laughed as usual.
As if life has never changed, all aspects are sweet and beautiful.
It seems that they continue to laugh and appreciate each other because life provides them with all the incredible aspects and flavors.
It seems as if the things they need came to them and filled them all up.
Like... Pizza.
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3,486
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Write about a character who has access to a powerful new technology before anyone else.
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Emma & the Time Travel Wristwatch
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It starts off with a curious girl named "Emma" getting a wristwatch that can bend time and change the frequency of reality. She starts to see that she can use her new powers to help people .At first, she saves children from a burning car twice in the same day.After two weeks She helps a little boy who has been shot. She saves a little girl from drowning. She even manages to save a man from committing suicide.This technology is more than just an ordinary AI , But with this new extra power, "Emma" must catch up to her own level of responsibility, rather than just be reactive to crises.Quicker than anything else ever has, the wristwatch able to learn the skills unlike any other Machine changing itself at will, enter into brain anyone or anything and analyzing ; but an influx of these superpowers on a rare wristwatch threatens to rip "Emma's" brain apart while she ignore the whispered pleas for stop footing in an uncompromising world. She struggles to find a way to balance it all. To save everyone .The watch becomes like a drug, and "Emma" becomes addicted to the rush of being able to manipulate time and space, even if she knows it's not healthy.She knows this is dangerous, so she tries to stop using the watch, but the withdrawal makes her feel sick and weak, and she starts to see hallucinations of the people who have died around her because of her actions to change time, everything comes with a price, especially messing with time, and trying to save someone, makes someone replacing with another.She knows that her addiction is dangerous, and she must find a way to break free before she goes too far.But as she struggles to find a way to stop using the watch, she realizes that the watch isn't just changing the time , but it's also changing her and making her think differently about life. It's showing her how to take control over her future. And she realizes there are things she needs to do to keep herself together.As Emma learns more about what her ability means for her, she finds out that sometimes you need to let go of something important to get what you want. The only problem “Emma doesn't know exactly what she wants anymore.”And when "Emma" finally stops trying to escape the watch's influence, it changes everything.Now, Emma is forced to face the consequences of her actions.How did she end up here?What does it mean to be human?Can she really make a difference in the world? Or is it already too late?***Emma was standing in the middle of a crowded street.People were walking by, going wherever they needed to go. Cars were driving down the road, honking their horns. People were shouting. Dogs barked. Birds chirped. Traffic lights changed colors. A train passed through. All of this happening at once.It seemed normal enough.Except Emma could hear nothing.Not a single sound.The effect of the clock began to take effect, she was not able to sense time and its passage, everything became fixed and fast, even feelings, became related to time.At this point, she understood that she had lost control of her mind, she didn't understand why, or where it came from, but the watch was controlling her.Her head was spinning. She felt dizzy, confused, and disoriented.A man ran past her, screaming.Emma tried to follow his voice, to figure out what he wanted. But she couldn't hear him.He screamed again, then stopped. He turned around.There was blood running down the side of Emma's face. His eyes looked worried, like he'd seen something terrible.Emma tried to speak. Her mouth opened. No words came out.Emma reached up to touch her face, but her hand went right through her skin.She heard a loud bang, and a sharp pain shot through her chest.Then, she saw a flash of light.The next thing she knew, Emma was lying in her bed in her house, looking at the ceiling.She wondered if she should call someone.Should she tell them what happened?She thought back to the night she got the watch.Why did she choose to pick up the time wristwatch?!Was it because she liked the way it looked, or was it because she was drawn to its abilities?Was it because she wanted to impress people, or was it because she wanted to be noticed?What was the real reason?Emma realized that she wasn't sure.All she knew was that the watch made her feel powerful, and she didn't want to give it up.That was why she kept wearing it. That was why she ignored the warnings.Emma lay in bed wondering if she should try to get rid of the watch. If she could just throw it away, maybe she would wake up feeling better.She decided she would quit using the watch.She started to get out of bed.Something caught her eye.A small box was sitting on her dresser.She picked it up and opened it. Inside was a note.It said, "You are no longer the person you used to be."She read the note over and over again.It was signed, "Your friend, John."Emma felt confused.At this moment, she knew that she might destroy the future with her reckless actions.She looked around her room.Everything was the same.Nothing had changed.She decided to go back to the time she picked up the time wristwatch and stop herself from doing it.She closed her eyes and waited for the next thing to happen.She waited for her body to react.Emma opened her eyes and looked at the clock on her wall. It was 5:00 AM.She came back "30 minutes" before she found the time wristwatch. She went to that place, and found the watch and smashed it so that no one would find it, and it would bring a disaster. On her way back, she met the man who helped her when she was injured .He smiled at her and said, :"Have we met before?"She smiled and said, :"Shall I invite you for a cup of coffee so that we can remember together?"They both laughed ,"by the way my name is John" he SaidAnd from inside the café, they both sounded happily ever after while it's snowing. The END
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489
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Write about a community that worships Mother Nature.
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Everything is Poison, Everything is Medicine
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“How beautiful!” Karen exclaimed, looking over the valley stretched before them. The sun topped distant mountains. Layers of mist still settled in the hollows. She looked at her children, Tim and Amy, straddling their bikes.“This is why I wanted to get out today. You can’t see this on a phone screen.”Tim nodded, though his expression betrayed doubt.“Looks like there’s a meadow there. Let’s ride down and check it out. Maybe picnic there.”Karen rode down the fire road trailed by eleven year-old Tim and seven year-old Amy. The girl wobbled a bit on her bike, struggling to keep up.Coasting into the grassy clearing, Karen dismounted and lay her bike down. Spreading her arms, she spun around like Julie Andrews in ‘The Sound of Music’.“This is perfect! See the sunlight on the dew?”The kids hopped off their bikes which clanked to the ground. Tim shook off his pack. Grabbing a stick and with his best ‘monster roar’ he chased a screaming Amy through the tall grass. A flock of birds rose and wheeled about before settling away from the children.Karen sighed, “Happy Earth Day...”She scouted a level spot and unrolled a blanket and spread it out. Tiring, the kids flopped down beside her.Amy asked, “Mommy? Do trees poop?”Tim snickered. Amy glared.Their mother sighed, “No, Honey. They shed their leaves in the fall. You remember the pretty colors?”“Maybe. Were they on TV?”“Of course. It’s questions like this that prove you need more time in nature.”“Then why did my book say, ‘Everything poops’?”“If I remember right, on page fifteen, it says animals, but not plants and trees... Isn’t the title, ‘Every Body Poops’?”“Maybe...”“Trees don’t have bodies. They have trunks.”“Like elephants?”“Sort of...”Amy pointed. “Look! Is that a scorpion?”Tim looked at the small animal clinging to a nearby tree and scoffed. “No silly. That’s a squirrel. Scorpions don’t carry Bubonic Plague.”Tim took his phone out and searched ‘Bubonic’.Karen said, “Stow it Tim. Remember? No phones on Earth Day.”“But...”“Tim... They use slave labor to make those phones. You can search it tomorrow.”Tim sighed and stowed his phone.“Come on, guys... help serve lunch.”Everyone joined in preparing their lunch. Amy enjoyed arranging the various items ‘just so’.Rummaging, Tim grumbled.“What’s up, Tim?”“I forgot the sun block. Did you bring it, Mom?”“Don’t you remember? I said no chemicals today.”Tim pouted.“It’s one day, Tim. Sit in the shade, if you want.”Tim smiled slyly.She said, “What are you thinking?”“If we drove, we could have brought more and wouldn’t have to wait for slow-poke Amy.”Amy said, “I kept up. You rode too fast.”“We have everything we need, Tim. And you exercised. Remember that?”“But don’t the bikes get made in factories? What are tires made from, anyway? Aren’t they petro-chemicals?”Karen bought time with a serious look. “Actually, Tim, tires are made from... uhm, rubber. You know, rubber tires? From rubber trees. They’re organic.”Tim smiled. He turned to Amy. “Yeah, rubber trees. You can tell it’s a rubber tree because rubber balls hang like apples from the branches.”Amy frowned, “Do not!”“Tell her, Mom. She never believes anything.”Karen said, “I don’t know if that’s exactly true. But yes, rubber trees produce rubber.”“See?”Karen changed the subject. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat!”They opened their sack lunches. Tim balked almost immediately.“What’s the problem?”“What the heck, Mom? Does everything have to taste like dirt on Earth Day?”“It’s healthy, Tim.”“That doesn’t answer my question. Eww! What are these?”“Brussel Sprouts.”“On a picnic?”“Tim...”He mumbled something about why Belgium lost World War Two.Karen shrugged. “I brought good food. You don’t have to eat it. But don’t complain later that you’re hungry.”“Where’s Dad?”She watched him roll a Brussel Sprout onto the ground. “He’ll pick us up after work.”“Cool! Gotta love a car.” He imitated a revving engine. “Look, Mom. See?”“What?”“A whole troop of ants marched by without even glancing at it.”Amy crawled over by Tim. “Let’s see!” She put her hand down by the edge of the blanket and let out an ear piercing scream. Karen rushed to her.“Bee sting.” Amy shrieked louder. “Let me see it, honey. Let me get the stinger out.”Amy kept crying but let her mother examine her hand. Karen asked Tim to get her purse. She pulled a tweezer out and deftly removed the stinger.“It hurts!”Karen looked around. “No ice...”Tim offered a solution. “I could pee on it.” Karen gasped. Amy screamed louder than when she got stung. “No, really. Pee has ammonia which cancels the poison.”“No! No! No...!”Karen said “No pee, Tim. That won’t help. How do you know these things?” Tim began to explain but Karen put her hand up. “Never mind. Not now.” She looked around. “Get the tea.”She found a vial of lavender scented oil in her purse. Dampening a cloth with the tea, she added a few drops of oil and pressed it to Amy’s palm.“Hold that to the sting, Sweetie. The honey and oil will help.” Karen dried her tears and kissed the top of her head.Tim said, “Blame it on the Brussel Sprouts, Mom.”“Good idea. I’ll do that.”Things calmed down. Amy kept checking her sting. The pain and swelling were down. Karen let the kids explore while she read. Tim showed her the biggest grasshopper she’d ever seen.He pointed to the trees. “There’s a bunch over there.”The words ‘plague of locusts’ came to mind, but she kept it to herself. “Okay, Tim. Bring him back to his friends.”The day had become warm and muggy. But high clouds reduced the sun’s intensity. Amy snoozed on the blanket.Tim looked at the sky. “Wow! What’s that?”Karen craned her neck. “What?”A line of black clouds loomed over the mountains. The darkest clouds they ever saw, they stepped back in awe, as it approached.“A storm. Grab the stuff. We’ve gotta go.”“Mom, it’s moving too fast. Don’t want to get caught on our bikes.”“Right. Get packed and we’ll shelter in place.”They scurried to jam everything into their packs. Amy awoke and helped too.Big drops began falling. Tim started for the trees. The wind gusted.“Tim no! Trees attract lightning!”“Where?”Karen draped the blanket over her shoulders. “Hide under this.” She pointed. “There!”They ran, clutching the blanket against the wind. Looking like a drunken insect they staggered up a low hill. Sheets of rain soaked the blanket which threatened to take flight. Lightning strobed. Hail fell.She yelled over the constant thunder, “Off the road! Sit on the edges so it won’t blow away!”Looking terrified, the kids followed orders. Once settled and secure, Amy whimpered.Karen said, “Good work, kids. We’re safe now. The worst is past. What else could happen, frogs?”Tim answered, “Don’t ask...”Amy asked, “There’s frogs?”The wind subsided. The drenched blanket kept them surprisingly dry. Tim peeked out.Though still daytime, clouds filtered the sun into a gloomy twilight. Karen had picked their shelter well. Everything else remained flooded by the torrent, now a steady rain.“The bikes are still there, but flooded.”Headlights raked across the desolation. A horn honked.“Dad!” Tim burst from under the blanket. He yelled and waved as his father backed his SUV toward them.Al set the brake and cut the engine. Karen and Amy stood to greet him.He laughed, “Happy Earth Day! Having fun?”Tim said, “Yeah!”Though still raining, it now felt like a party. He opened the back and handed out raincoats. “Put these on, kids. I know. They’re made of hydrocarbons. But they’ll stave off pneumonia.”Tim assisted in unloading firewood.“What are you doing, Al?”“Building a fire. Or you could sit in our nice warm car with the heater on high.”“With the engine running?”“Whatever your zealous heart desires.”She looked at Amy and Tim.“Or call it a wrap, go home and take hot showers...”“It’s still early.” She gestured to the sky. “Not my grand plan...”Al said, “The ark is in the shop, or...”Tim stacked the wood. “The rain’s letting up, Mom. A fire would be great.”Al said, “You know... how cave men stayed warm.” He squirted lighter fluid onto the wood.“And look what that led to...”She looked at Amy, who yelled, “Global warming!”Al shrugged. “Your call...”The kids hesitated and looked at Karen. She nodded. “Go ahead. Get warm.”They screamed and danced around.Al lit the fire and flames rose to warm them. He unfolded camp chairs and set them a safe distance from the flames. He leaned an umbrella against each chair.He looked at his bedraggled wife. “In case of rain,” he said with a smile.Karen donned her raincoat. Tim said, “Thanks, Mom.” He took Amy’s hand and they joined their father by the crackling flames. “I’m hungry!”Al offered them a bag from under his raincoat. “Marshmallow?”As if by magic, he produced sticks, suitable for roasting the puffy sweets. Their laughter said it all. Al smiled at Karen and cocked his head. She resisted but finally sidled up to him.“Nice fire, Al. You think of everything.”“Civilization has its perks. Oh, I brought your favorite sweater. Some poor sheep is shivering tonight, so you could stay warm.”She accepted it, put it on, hugged herself and shivered. All with a smile.“Hey, kids. If we’re going to stand ‘round a campfire, we have to sing a song. Whatcha got, Tim?”Tim broke into ‘Home on the Range’. The others joined in, but when they got to the line ‘...seldom is heard, a discouraging word...’ Amy stopped them.Al said, “What’s wrong, kid?”“Don’t get me wrong. It’s a nice song, and all. But, no offence, I don’t get, who the heck is Seldom?”
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10,741
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Write a modern version of "The Tiger, the Brahmin, and the Jackal," in which someone suffers from their own good deeds and must turn to an unlikely source for help.
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Extinction Report
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No one would’ve ever believed it or even thought it was possible. Animals that were extinct are now with us, alive and pumping blood. There is no illusion or some type of magic trick, they are actually here! There’s the tasmanian tiger, the dodo bird, and even the wooly mammoth. Many extinct animals are cramped inside this rocky planet, sharing it with the top apex predator of all, the human beings.Throughout years of cloning and replication of each extinct animal’s DNA, scientists and companies have finally achieved the ability to resurrect such creatures. However, there is a secret spice to this research. These extinct animals are very intelligent and capable of human speech. Their sentience goes above and beyond and are no different than us, fully conscious with a friendly face. The wild and violence of such creatures are tamed into an empathetic and cooperative creature. They live with us and are productive members of the world. Now these animals aren’t like our animals in this timeline. Horses are still horses. Cats are still cats. And the little monkeys still swing and play in the jungle. But let’s say a wooly mammoth is nearby.... you think it might stomp on you or maybe just see you as a threat, but nope! It is simply working in construction labor and building our infrastructures. There’s only one mystery that everyone is dying to know. What about the dinosaurs? Yes those! Well, no one has seen any yet, but how about we give it up behind the genius of these animals. Everyone applause to...The tv screen turned black and was no longer visual. The presentation that the man in the yellow suit gave out was now a part of the empty black void.“Ugh, I can’t stand this anymore!” roared the large saber tooth cat. It growled at the remote and bit it as if it was its prey. It munched on it many times, making the screen flip back on and off. An arm extended from the opposite side and snatched the remote away from him. “Hey man, I know, but it can’t be all bad right, I mean, you’re alive and happy right?” said by a man with curly hair and dressed in his obvious comfort clothes. The saber cat gave him a snarky glare and slouched down on the couch, its head resting on his two front paws. “This isn’t happy sunshine, Marcus, we’re generally treated as objects and are forced to participate in this weird work labor...whatever it is!” The saber cat calmed down a bit. “I just can’t believe that this is happening.”Marcus, his dear and trusted friend, looked at him. “Hey, I know Sharp Claw, but look at it this way, you got a nice place and cool friend like me!”Sharp Claw’s eyes quickly glanced at Marcus and slightly smiled, his two front teeth making it impossible for him to smile widely. Sharp Claw loves Marcus and doesn’t see him like he does with the other humans. Marcus is a bright and happy guy. He clearly treats everyone equally and his optimism is so powerful that it can make someone like Sharp Claw himself, to feel at ease and safe. Marcus and Sharp Claw live in a single room apartment and share their lives together. Marcus is a journalist and blogs as a side hobby while Sharp Claw works in an office. Marcus has a dream of becoming one of the best journalists ever and Sharp Claw simply works as that is now the purpose of his existence. The office work doesn’t fit with the angry cat, if anything, it makes him angrier. The amount of paperwork and repetitive phone calls makes him want to rampage against everything. “I don’t like that you’re going to an interview with that scummy company, but if it will make you happy and better financially, then I’m here for you, my friend.” Sharp Claw looked back at the screen of the tv and pressed the red button of the remote. The presentation that caused him rage was over, instead, it just showed a commercial with a dire wolf eating a brand of cereal.Marcus watched the commercial and laughed at the dire wolf getting excited eating the latest new brand of cereal: Dodo puffs. “I know you don’t like this company, especially since they created you guys and all, but I really think this position can help me, and also you. I can create a whole new report and even spin a positive image for the extinct animals.” Marcus once again was back at his ideals. “Who knows, what if something gets big and goes viral for my blog or my twitter?”ExtinctKingdomCo was the name of the company responsible for bringing the beasts of the past to life. Marcus saw a position opening for a journalist and millions of happy thoughts came into his head. Working for a famous company like this was bound to get him ahead in life. Sharp Claw sigh. “Alright.” I believe in him, he does good. But that’s the problem, good people get hurt and manipulated easily. “Gah! It's already 9, I need to go to bed and get ready.” Marcus quickly got dressed in his night clothes and wished his friend goodnight, closing the bedroom door behind him.“Goodnight,” Sharp Claw whispered and drifted into slumber on the old couch. ...The sun rises up and everyone is awake for the day. Extinct animals and people return to their usual routine of life. Marcus is ready for his interview especially. He has his business attire on and a nice suitcase to go with it. His hair was smooth and shiny, and he had a pair of glasses that matched his entire personality. He wishes Sharp Claw a good day and arrives in the scrambling streets of New York, waiting for the next bus stop. The bus pulls up and the door spreads wide open, encouraging those to come in or get out. Marcus gets in the bus and pays the Glyptodon that rode the vehicle. Extinct animals and people were all aboard. Some spoke with each other, but it mainly remained in silence. Something like this was too awkward and didn’t feel real.Marcus finally arrived at his destination and left the silent bus. Here it is. ExtinctKingdomCo. People can be seen walking and discussing with other superiors about their latest projects, some dressed professionally, and some wearing uniforms. There are little extinct animals to be found in sight, but understandable due to a lot of hate they have for it. Marcus enters the enormous building and sees a woman at the front desk. “Hey,” Marcus starts as he approaches the woman. “I have an interview with David Hossman.” The woman nodded in approval and told him to go to the elevators and the 10th floor. Marcus thanked her and followed the instructions given to him. The elevators had mirrors and can show everything in hindsight. Marcus has seen many extinct animals performing jobs and even some talents like singing and playing an instrument. This place is so big, I wonder what else is there to explore. Marcus arrived on the 10th floor and felt a cold breeze hit his shoulders, making him shudder and feel stiff.Where is David Hossman? I know she said the 10th floor, but it feels like I’m in a freezer. Marcus continues to search for him, but it feels like a dead empty room with just computers.Grrrsskklll..A low growl came from a door with a black and yellow danger hazard sign. Marcus choked and dreaded the feeling of being in the same place with that door. GrrrRaaaa. This time it was longer and louder. Marcus couldn’t stand this terrifying silence anymore. “Mr. Hossman, where are you! This place is pretty scary.”The growling stopped and stayed silent for a few more seconds, a voice then boomed. “My dear boy, can you please come in. Mr. Hossman is not here at the moment, and he trapped me in here. That cruel man. Please my dear boy, come in.”Marcus' whole body went from cool to flat out frozen. A memory flashed into his eyes. It was him and Sharp Claw, talking to each other one day while playing a board game. Bad man, good man. Bad animal, good animal. It doesn't matter whether it's an animal or human, don’t let anything bad hurt you, understand? Not everyone is as good as you. Heck, I had this bison friend, call him Dust Horns, and he almost got backstabbed by this jerk Dire Wolf... Sharp Claw continued to ramble on.“Why is this memory popping up in my head now,” Marcus said in a raspy voice caused by both the cold and fear. “Please let me out,” the voice again boomed. Marcus blocks off the memory and gives in. His heart bleeds from the cries of the voice, and his morals finally clings to him. He opens the door and realizes he’s in a whole new room. It appeared to alien and advanced. The voice boomed again and sounded like a scaly growl. “I’m in here my dear boy.” Marcus turned and saw a large tube, inside of it looked frosty and had a few icicles too. Marcus comes closer and waits again for the voice.“Thank you,” the voice said as his head came forward. The sight of it almost made Marcus faint. It was a Tyrannosaurus Rex. It had sharp teeth and glazing yellow eyes. Although he was intimidating, the glasses it wore gave it a softer look making his eyes look bigger and cuter. “You were asking for help?”The T-Rex nodded and smiled widely with cluttered sharp teeth. “Please let me out, that Mr. Hossman is a villain and kept me in this frozen chamber. I am a good animal you see that evil man is jealous and hates to see me free.” Its snout came closer, and he later bent down, getting a good look at Marcus. “You seem like a sweet fellow, I like you.”Marcus' heart once again warmed up and figured that this dinosaur was good and probably has been mistreated. “So, you’re the only dinosaur huh?”He nodded in response. “My name is King Brute, if you let me out, I would like to talk to you more.” King Brute told Marcus on which buttons to press and to pull the leather once finished. Marus pressed all color buttons in the order he was told and released the supposed friendly giant. The tube opened wide and let out a snowy storm. King Brute lowly growled and let out an evil laughter. The impactful giant switched his demeanor and roared at his rescuer. “Thank you idiot, now if you excuse me, I’m going to kill you and then I’m going to kill that pathetic fiend Hossman!”Marcus' realization hit him, and he curses at himself for being this naive. He ran away from the violent monster while his laughs echoed through the rooms. “They say we have small brains, but from the looks of it, I say you do,” King Brute taunted. “When I get rid of all these humans, I’ll be taking charge of this company,” King Brute spoked in vain. “I'll call it DinoCo or something, make this world back to being dinosaurs only again! Ha!”Marcus arrived at the elevators as sweat dripped from his face. The elevators opened and Marcus couldn’t believe it, it was David Hossman! Panic surged in his face as he noticed King Brute was let out. “What did you do?” Hossman freaked out. “There you are Hossman!” King Brute massive stomps could be heard as he grabbed Mr. Hossman by the collar with his sharp teeth and threw him to another part of the building as Marcus escaped successfully on the elevator. King Brute growled in frustration. “Now I have to kill everything I guess.” King Brute operated all the systems in the building and made sure it was locked so no man or creature could even escape. “I think I want to get that young guy first,” he says in a sadistic tone. ...“We were resting, you know. We could hear your loud screams and conflict.” A tasmanian tiger barked at him. It meanly stared at Marcus as soon as the elevator opened to this new area. “I need help! King Brute is after me!” Marcus cried out. He saw the look of panic in the tasmanian tiger’s eye. “Sorry, but we can’t help you there, that guy is a menace, and besides, we refuse to help the same things that make us work forever.” The tasmanian tigers’ day was disappointing as they walked away from Marcus. Marcus keeps forgetting that extinct animals and most humans don’t mesh well together or even trust each other, but he had no choice. He had to find someone to help him out. Marcus traveled everywhere and asked for help from nearly every extinct animal he could find. Nothing but “nos” to “I don’t trust you” or even “let him get ya, we don’t like you guys anyway.” All of this hurts Marcus. Sharp Claw really is his only extinct friend. Marcus went up to a black rhino and asked for help. The black rhino just scoffed at him and said, “there’s no point in running, accept fate, my kind died a lot and now I’m brought back to slave away.”Marcus felt his whole energy slowly depleted. His optimism felt bleak, and he became sorrowful. But he at least understood most of the extinct animals’ feelings. GRAAAA. The roar echoed throughout the building. People and extinct animals running away in fright. Hope seemed lost and Marcus accepted his fate. Poke. Marcus felt someone touch his shoulder as he turned around and saw a Dodo bird.“I can help you!” The Dodo chirped happily. Marcus doesn’t feel protected by this creature but lets him speak away. “I don’t know why, but I feel you have a good heart! That King Brute guy just talks a load of pretentious rubbish anyway. Brawns have no brains, don’t you know! Also, my name is Tatter Beak.”Marcus looked down and had no choice. “Alright, anything to help everyone here.” Tatter beak gleamed from the response. "Don't you worry, that Rex guy doesn't have all the smarts yet, that was why it was locked up in the first place. He still a violent one."They both walked back to the elevators and came right back up to the intense battle. Tatter Beak confidently walks up to King Brute and looks him straight to the eye, instilling its own pride and showing no fear.“Hah, so this is what the million years has come to. You weird things, large gross beaks and look nothing powerful or capable of anything,” King Brute mocked the silly thing. “Actually, did you come from that weird looking tube over there, I’m not very smart.”“Yes?” King Brute chuckled at his dumb question.“Well, I heard that all the great dinosaurs need to stay cold so they can regain strength. Being left in the warm can make a dinosaur really weak,” Tatter Beak blurts out randomness.King Brute took a liking to something about strength and power. “Well, I like the sound of that, and I do feel strong, but it still sounds fake.”“Show me then,” Tatter Beak said. “Hmph.” The large scaly king stomped towards his old freezing prison as Tatter Beak followed behind him. “I think I feel the strength, watch me chomp up your entire face and then I’ll go back to-” King Brute comes to a halt as the door is shut on his face and a loud beep pops up, ensuring that he is trapped again in his freezing cell. King Brute growled in frustration once again. He tried the puppy dog look with his glasses and begged to let him out, but Marcus wasn’t falling for that again. Tatter Beak and Marcus are at relief as they fix everything in the systems, and everyone seems to have recovered from this unexpected event. Marcus learned a lot from this odd adventure. I have so much to tell Sharp Claw. Even better, a great report is about to be in the makes.
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14,471
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Write about a group of strangers — or people who know each other, but may as well be strangers — eating together.
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FAT CHANCE at the OK CORRAL (AKA The Classic Buffet)
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Ginny wondered for a moment if she was having a stroke. Her ears began ringing, and she felt slightly dizzy. Worse still was that the array of desserts in front of her began to shimmer and waver. She almost expected them to disappear and so, tightly clutched the bowl of soft ice cream.She was willing to sacrifice the mint Nanaimo squares, peanut butter confetti bars and strawberry shortcake, but the ice cream was simply too important to let go.She clung tightly to the bowl and briefly thought about leaving the restaurant and driving to the nearest hospital's emergency, when it dawned on her what actually might be going on.She was experiencing a sugar high. It had all begun innocently enough.The morning began early with a visit from her son. He had promised to set up her Smart tv after finishing his night shift. She’d harboured hopes that his thirty-seven year old brain would somehow, miraculously sort out the massive tangle of confusion that rendered her own brain completely useless. What irked her most was that she knew the t.v. was intelligent enough to probably set itself up, but was simply being stubborn and mean spirited in its refusal to cooperate.Her son seemed a little tired and impatient, but Ginny was confident he could bring the uncooperative device to its knees and convince it to comply with his directions.The ‘smart’ t.v. had a different agenda and seemed in no mood to surrender.Ginny finally convinced her son to leave it alone and go home to sleep.He seemed relieved and she almost convinced herself that she really didn't want to watch Netflix that much anyway.In truth that was just what she'd wanted to do but decided a little prayer and meditation would be a suitable replacement. It worked and she promptly fell asleep for another two hours.She woke with a start, realizing she had just enough time to get to her appointment with her therapist. This monthly ritual, combined with her twelve step programs, seemed to keep her on the straight and narrow. Somewhat.The session went well, though by hour’s end Ginny’s ears were ringing and sound had become distinctly muffled. This was a sure sign that anxiety was plucking the chords of disharmony somewhere deep inside her body.She left the office just before lunch and debated the choices in front of her: food, out or home?Visit a friend nearby? Hmmmm, no.Go to a twelve step meeting several blocks away? Well yes, that seemed like a good choice.Gin headed off to the meeting with high hopes of an hour long session of prayer and meditation while listening to other people who shared her affliction of addiction.She should’ve left upon arrival. Waves of energy flooded her senses as soon as she entered the room. She picked the side of the room where all the women were sitting, making a major mistake by taking a chair with an empty spot beside it. Of course, John, a freshly sober sixty plus years’ drunk came and sat beside her.She’d met him several nights before and had known that his confused energy and deep angst were danger signs. She did her best to raise a wall of protection, but as the meeting progressed, her barrier weakened. The 'sharing' in the room seemed especially fraught with despair and hopelessness and even her partial deafness failed to block out the miasma of pain wafting off most in the room.When it was John’s turn, he simply cried.Ginny’s heart sank and her barriers fell to the ground. As the meeting ended she plucked a feather from her hat and gently stroked John's arm, assuring him "things would get better and to just keep going to meetings." She then placed the feather in his hand and mumbled something about hope.Deep down, she wondered if he would make it.She knew enough that the outcome had nothing to do with her. She gave him a sisterly hug and left quickly.As she got in her car, the ringing in her ears blocked off most other sound.The resulting dizziness made her question her ability to drive and so she sat for several minutes, gathering her equilibrium.She contemplated her choices.Pedicure or lunch? Food won.She managed to follow her car's direction and ended up at the Classic Buffet, a spot home to a wide selection of fairly good food, including roast beef that never failed to impress her.She found a secluded spot, sat and gathered her energy as best as possible.After a short rest, she proceeded to the food tables spread with sumptuous fare, ranging from ‘healthy’ choices to totally decadent slabs of grease and carbohydrates.She made two trips to the food bar, each time returning to her seat quietly, peacefully, thoughtfully enjoying a sense of fulfillment.Her nourishing choices began to ease, somewhat, the pangs of anxiety that had gripped her body.Her selections had been carefully considered and included vegetables, protein and a variety of condiments that complemented and satisfied both her inner nutritionist and her gluttonous gourmand. She saved just enough room to indulge herself at the dessert bar, a dangerous finale to a terrain studded with landmines.She arrived at the dessert bar to find she was the only person there.Wonderful, no one to interfere or influence her choices.She began the adventure at one end and started working her way to the other side. She carefully broke off small pieces of offerings, rejecting some and selecting others. By the time she got to the middle, she became aware that others had joined her. She closed off her peripheral vision and concentrated on the task at hand, filling her plate with as many goodies as she wanted and more importantly desired.As she debated between two delicacies, knowing her plate would only hold one, the man beside her said: “Trying to resist temptation?”She almost turned and told him to “Fuck off". However by this time a few children were in the line and she realized that this was not the most appropriate response.Instead she loudly proclaimed: “Are you kidding?""I’m just debating whether to get a bigger plate, or pile a few of these on top of each other!”The man looked stunned that his passive/aggressive advice was rejected.His look of annoyance spilled over into a sarcastic observation that "Ginny was going the wrong way in the line." She again debated, “Fuck Off” or just smile and continue on her merry way.She chose an indulgent smile. The presence of children influenced her choice of words.Ginny proceeded to her table but was aware that beneath the surface a seething caldron of anger was brewing. She sat in front of her sweet offerings, said a prayer of thanks to Bacchus or some other God in charge of decadently delicious fare and dug in.The sugar made its way through her central nervous system, slamming into an already fragile emotional wall.Ginny began to cry. She gathered her belongings, paid for her bill and knew it was time to go home and sleep herself into oblivion.Before she left the restaurant she had one last mission to accomplish. Now there are those who might doubt her abilities to pull off the following stunt. From the bias of their own ignorance, they might question whether a woman her age and weight could accomplish such a deed.What they failed to comprehend was the raw animal passion that seethed slightly below the surface of a body that many would find repellent.Gin’s weight, which had begun as a defense mechanism to weed out shallow men, reflected appetites that few men would not enjoy. She despised men who’s blindness to this reality kept them at bay.She was quite aware that for most men, sex boiled down to the lowest common denominator, any port in a storm so to speak.She was most accomplished at using her inner seductress to lure them to a state of arousal.She knew that the mind was a powerful organ and had the ability to see past any physical shortcoming.Men were often puzzled as to why, when in her presence they experienced hard-ons unlike any with women whose bodies were in ‘good’ shape, reflecting more perfectly what the media told them was the physical ideal of a woman.Gin was keenly aware that humans were very multi-dimensional creatures, entities which actually held no shape, no form, existing solely in the pulse of pure energy.This was energy that lept and flowed along every nerve in a body, providing the thrust that operates all bodily functions. Ginny had been gifted at birth with the ability to easily connect with this energy.She felt it, tasted it, heard it, experienced it with every sense she possessed and some she didn’t know she had.She understood quite well how bodies worked. and was intimately aware of the connection between the body and the mind. Her ‘blowjob’ skills may have been somewhat impaired, but she was astutely aware of the underlying principles. She was not above exploiting that knowledge.So, she waltzed past the table of the nosey man and his cohorts, proceeded back to the dessert bar and made herself a huge soft ice cream cone.She casually sauntered back, passing the men, while sensually licking the ice cream. She seductively eyed each man.Her slow, deliberate strokes seemed to provoke a mixture of responses.Several hands quickly dipped beneath the table as certain adjustments were made to accommodate certain reactions to her provocative performance.Her deliberate act of defiance accomplished, she exited the establishment, leaving behind ...well quite honestly, she didn’t give a flying fuck what she was leaving behind.Meanwhile back in the restaurant, nosey man turned to his cohorts, sighed and asked, "I wonder if she’d have given me her phone number?” The other men at the table snorted and in unison replied...“FAT CHANCE!”
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9,162
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Write about someone who gets stuck in their workplace during a blizzard and decides to explore rooms they aren’t normally allowed in.
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Fantasy world
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I thought it was the end of the world. It felt like an abyss of total emptiness. I tried to make myself believe that it was nothing but a phase until reality flashed in my face, staring maliciously,I could hear it's wicked laughter in my head like a serious case of déjà vu but this time it's worse. It rang in my head like an Eminem rap song on repeat mode. It kept playing over and over again, it almost made me go nuts. "What the hell happened here". I said to myself. The room was a perfect example of complete silence and void of humans. The radio transmission kept breaking and coming back on. "...stay h-ooome...and safe...". Those were the last words of Femi Olanipekun the radio presenter before it went off completely. Stay home and safe!!! Still a complete mystery to me what's going around. Thank God I always put the Radio on record "I knew it was going to pay off". I said, trying to playback the recordings. " 'No. stop wasting your time on useless stuffs blah blah blah'". I mimicked Johnson, the 6ft jerkass in our store,as his teasings came to my head. "So much for a wasted effort". I snickered. I played the latest recording before the last one. "... Citizens of Damesville... This is an urgent announcement... A coastal storm will bring the potential for a heavy snow... STRONG WINDS AND DANGEROUSLY COLD CHILLS IN THE NEXT THREE HOURS... THIS IS NOT A DRILL". "Three hours!!!" I exclaimed. How long have I been gone, that three hours had passed me by already. I only went downstairs to get something for a customer and three hours has gone already. The next thing that surprised me was the sudden blizzards coming, if not present. "Things like this should have been done in the weather forecast three days ago and not three hours". I muttered in frustration. I picked up my phone to make a call "Thank God it's ringing". "Vivian,are you okay? Where are you right now? Thank God you called. You got me worried". Susan slurred. "Am fine. Still at work". I replied. "Still at work!!!. We searched all over the place for you when the announcement was made". She said. "How long have you guys been gone?". "We...h-h-ave been..." The network fades out. All I could hear was a long line cut sound. I made attempts again using the store's landphone but it all ended up as a snowball effect. Not quite long the lights went out,it could not get any worse. The total blackout was the beginning of my misery. The last thing I wanted was to be trapped in a junk n stuffs store with creepy old artifacts and children's toys, to top it all was my fear of the dark. I never imagined a day like this. I just couldn't help it,I looked out the window to see the heavy snow storm, consuming anything on it's path. It's probably going to be a suicide mission for anything or anybody to be out there but I was ready to take my chances. I scrambled through the old clothing and was lucky to find a thick pullover and a old muffler probably from 90's. I dug deeper but was unable to find a headwarmer but a top hat like that of Charlie Chaplin's will do the job quite well. The first step I took outside was almost my last. The breeze shook off my hat throwing me in a 10dollar debt. My brain almost froze, the chills practically went down my spine,worse than being in Greenland. I took a wise step back inside without hesitation. I rubbed my palms together to give me warmth as the thought of a second attempt crossed my mind before. The sight of the storm pulling down an electric pole crippled every will in me to go back out there. I switched on my phone's torch. Frustrated if to take out my anger on myself or the stupid weather cooperation or my colleagues for forgetting me. Susan especially. Confused on what to do alone in the dark, in a creepy store. I took a nap,woke up,napped again. Tired of napping, I decided to go down to the store basement. "It's damn cold down here". I was about to turn back upstairs,my eyes flashed through a room with the 'restricted area' sign on it. I have seen this room once or twice whenever I was sent here. It was the perfect opportunity to explore the company's deep secrets. Different thoughts crossed my mind "maybe there's a blood sucking monster behind that door". I said to myself." Nah". I tried to open the door but it was locked. It has a lock that must opened with a six figure combo secret code. I took wild guesses of different combinations I could think of but it all proved abortive. Then I decided to take my shot with the city's postal code. "230281". I mouthed as I typed it in. " Yes. It worked". I said ecstatically To my surprise, what I saw was far from what I imagined.I saw a neatly well arranged relaxation spot. It had everything, Full HD TV,pool board, arcades and virtual games, a snack stand,a well cushioned sofa and a leftover chicken on the table. From the smell it's not been long since someone came in here. I had a taste of everything I could lay my hands on. It helped me while away time. After hours of been in wonderland,it was time to leave. I walked towards the door,my phone fell down as I was about to pick it up,I hit my head against the wall. Suddenly,I heard rumblings,I thought it was the storm until something beyond my wildest dreams happened before my eyes. The walls beside the door split open like a secret room. I've only seen stuffs like these in movies, until today, it's happening right in front of my eyes. "Whoa..." I flashed my torch at the room in surprise. I choked on the cobwebs and the dust that were waiting to give me the welcome entertainment by the entrance. I walked and saw things I would never in a million years imagine. "This is blowing my miiiind". I fantasised at the sight of the treasures. I ran got closer and took a gold coin and saw an inscription saying 'Bank of Damesheart' now Damesville. "The lost treasure of Damesheart". I whispered in amusement. I've heard the story of the 'lost treasure of Damesheart' but considered it to be a fictional bedtime story and now I am standing before it's awesomeness. Precious stones and jewelries of different kinds were present. I jumped on it and rolled over and over with the feeling of being rich. I got up and stuffed my pouch with as much jewelry it can contain, the coins are of no use to me. "I'm rich. At last I made it". I screamed in joy "Good morning people of Damesville". The radio came back to life. "Morning!!!" I exclaimed. I saw Johnson walking in. "Morning sleeping beauty". He teased as he gave me a wet willy. Susan rushed in the store,she saw strecthing my body. "Oh no. Poor thing.come to mama". She gave me a deep hug. "Enough of the snuggle bunny already". Johnson said, cutting in the moment as usual. Reality dawned on me,I was just in fantasy world. I could not believe that it was all a dream. "It was all a dream". I marvelled. "What?" Susan asked. "The lost treasure of Damesheart" I replied. Johnson busrted into laughter making jest. "Awwwn. Poor thing. You've been here all alone and it almost drove you crazy". Susan said pitifully. "Poor thing indeed". Johnson teased. Crazy or not,I saw the famed 'lost treasure of Damesheart'. A moment I will forever cherish in my heart,even though it's just a dream.
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1,621
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Write about a first date that surprises both people, but in different ways.
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First Date, Last Date
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Tim
There he sat on the insanely expensive lover's seat he bought as a gift to his twin sister Tessa,his eyes landed on the VIP tickets and backstage passes for the Rock Band and tears falls afresh,he missed on his first date with a twin he has never known all thanks to his father's miscellaneous business while Tessa went for her last.He tightly wrung his shoulders the ugly olive rug Tessa sent him six months ago, she claimed it carried her soul since she knitted it herself especially for him.He had known her for only six months yet she enchanted him.She was as beautiful as their late mother and stubborn as their dad,the King of London Streets.
He walked to his laptop and opened the last video Tessa left for him.
Tessa: (pouting and flicking her blonde her,finally decided to tie it in a pile on top of her head) Hi Tim, as you can see my hair is acting up either way I know we spoke about this and you thought I shouldn't go ahead with it but unfortunately I believe I owe it to my kid to at least inform the dad and if he's not interested I will let you be the Super Uncle(checks watch ) I have a date with Trevor in the next forty five minutes if all goes well I won't log in to our late night chat but if it goes south I will be home alone righteously eating that tub of ice cream you suggested last week.Whatever happens I will meet you tomorrow on the other side of the ocean for our first date.I love you and can't wait for our fist date.(blows a kiss)
He furiously wiped tears on his face only for them to fall again and again,his heart felt vacant as if there's nothing inside him and he ought to fill it with some emotion and he opted for hatred, deceit and vengeance and that he will do.If he had toughen up like his dad had commanded him ,Tessa would've been alive,she would've made it for their date ,she'd have knitted tons and tons baby clothes for Gabby her daughter, my niece .It's been six months after Tessa's burial yet the pain was still raw,he's been to Doctors and they couldn't help but subject him to high bills and unending supply of pills which had taken it's toll on Tim and he wanted,no he needed it to end and he had a suicidal plan to ensure such.
Trey
Pants,check
Shirt,check
Shoes,check
Gun,tucked nicely inside jacket
Wallet,loaded
Nerves, give or take
Charm,in abundance
He stared at the mirror and laughed, the last time Trevor paid half this much attention to himself was when he had to pretend being President somewhere in Primary School.He had to stop thinking of Trevor his real name,The Prince Of South America's Late Night Kingdom.He couldn't lie he's excited to meet the wonderful and honest Tim who has brighten his dark world and sent it to fun chaos.He had always thought of himself as bisexual ,leaning more towards on women but ever since he met Tim ,he felt like he's been lying to himself all these years.And if he didn't do the recon on him he wouldn't believe it if someone described Tim to him,he's pure,honest and he's about to be his totally until he says otherwise.He had to laugh out loud ,he's about to make Tim's first date his last date because he can't stand the anger that threaten to spill out of his gut through his mouth if the thought of somebody else with Tim let alone the thought of somebody else besides him like that Theresa who thought she could tame him with fake pregnancy passes his mind.Forget about things that do not matter, you have Tim now be happy.He couldn't wait for the sun to rise and for him to see his dove,Tim.
Attire, check
Safety,guaranteed
Cash,a given
Venue,oh snap I forgot to book the whole restaurant
Tim you messing with my skills, big time
Tim
He looked at his attire all black and lethal hanging on the lover's seat if a wise one would look at him , he wold see that he wore befitting a funeral,whether he was the main attraction or a grieving friend that was yet to be seen.
He watches in silence as his dad enter's the room and walk to the window
Tim: You shouldn't be here,we've already spoke about this
Tom: Let me handle this son,this is not your forte , let me take of this issue it will take me less and I won't even be in harms way as you're planning
Tim: (tears falls on his face) Dad you don't get this do you? It's not about strength or experience,it's about the void Tessa left me with,I live on a truck-load of pills yet they don't fill the void,it's only him who can make all this go away or waste away.I don't hate you or blame you for what you did because you had good intentions like myself,so please promise me one thing
Tom: (grumbles) What? I will do whatever you want I will do it in a heartbeat for you
Tim: (wipes tears and look into his father's eyes) If by mayhap he turns things around,promise me you'll not let him live to go to another date
Tom: Anything but that son...
Tim: (shouts loudly) Promise on Tessa that you'll kill him even if it means shooting through me,promise me that you have my back,promise me daddy
Tom: (softly) Last date I promise,oh another thing Jacob has delivered the beverages for your date tomorrow and remember...
Tim: White is clear I know dad,see you tomorrow maybe
DATE NIGHT
Trevor
He's sitting inside the restaurant a hour early,actually he came three hours early he wanted to ensure that everything was to Tim's liking since this is his face date .He slowly stands up and head towards the door where a dismayed Tim stood,in full black his favorite color, his face genuinely confused it must have been the body search everyone is subjected to before they can get to glance my face.When you play the games he usually plays with other people's lives you learn to leave nothing to chance, for a first breath can also be also your last.
Trevor: Nice surprise?
He asked hugging a bedazzled Tim
Tim: Fantastic surprise,though you didn't tell me you were taking me to the search party
He offered Trey his shy smile
Trey: I should've known that will scare you but my status deems it necessary, don't worry after this we'll be all alone ,shall we?
Trey led to Tim to the corner table where it's warm and fuzzy , and pulls the chair for Tim and heads for his side of the table where he poured his fifth glass of the red wine
Tim: Anxious aren't we?
Trey: Honestly you had me at halo, I have never been scared on a thousand and some first date(coughs severally)
Tim:Perched? drink more wine (laughs)
Trey: (falls off the table) Tim press one on my phone,please ,something is wroooooooon...
Tim:( Kicks Trey swiftly in the stomach) From Tessa with love Trevor
Trey: (slurs) Whaaaaaaaat?
Tim: This was my first date and your last date
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13,791
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Write about a character who wakes up in the future and learns that their legacy has outlasted them — for better or worse.
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For Want of a Wish
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FOR WANT OF A WISH Bethanne opened her eyes. The brightness of the sun was overpowering. She sat up in bed and glanced around her. She did not recognize the room. It was not her bedroom, and nothing, not even the bare white furniture, was familiar to her. Her heart rate increased, and she felt dizzy. Where am I? She tried to remember what she was doing last night. I can’t even remember what I was doing last. Bethanne slipped her feet into her slippers and plodded outside the room. She was walking along a corridor where the sunlight blazed through the skylights. Her eyes blinked at the sun reflecting off the striking white iridescent walls. Who in the world chose this décor? She entered a staircase that spiraled down to a spacious, open room with cathedral ceilings. A white plump sofa and chair, with two thin lamps on the side tables of the couch, were the solo pieces of furniture in the room. The room was stark, with no photos of people or signs of life. Bethanne was panicking, her palms were sweaty, and her breathing increased. Where am I? “Mom? Mom?” No answer, only eerie quietness enveloping the room. Someone must be here, somewhere. Bethanne ventured into another room. Sunlight filtered from the far wall with massive windows the length of the entire wall from top to bottom. No curtains, just a bare room void of any signs of life. Bethanne walked to the windows and gazed outside. Green trees and sidewalks, but no one in sight. Where are the cars? Is my brain tricking me? thought Bethanne. This place is so unfeeling, without warmth except for the sun. No pictures- who lives here? I recognize nothing. I am in a world of no people, white walls, sunlight, and silence. Bethanne continued to explore the house. Strange, still no life signs, not even animals- stony stillness permeated the air. She glimpsed at her wristwatch to check the time. It was 10:30 am, but her second hand had stopped working. She noticed that there were no clocks or calendars in any of the rooms. It was as if time was no more. Bethanne raised her voice. “Is someone here? Can you hear me? Where am I? Someone answer me!” Bethanne hurried out the door -there must be people living nearby, somewhere! When she got to the corner of the house, she looked across the street. There were no other homes in sight. Is this a dream or nightmare? But I can sense everything. It is real. How did I get here? Oh, God, help me to remember what happened to me. Bethanne walked back inside the house - the wind had whipped up, and the temperature had fallen. She searched for a cellphone -none in sight. If there are no communication devices, how do you contact someone? By now, her chest hurt, and it was hard to take a deep breath. She slumped into a chair at the table in the room she assumed was the kitchen and sobbed. Frustrated tears splashed onto the table. She was alone, and God knows where. Is she on Earth or in another dimension? As she was trying to control herself, a door opened on the white wall of cabinets and revealed an automated robot. Bethanne jumped, startled by the sound of a voice. But this was not a human voice. “You must be hungry. What can I get for you?” “I am not hungry, and I need to know where I am and what is going on!” said Bethanne.“Humans from your time must eat food to stay alive. I can make your food the way you are used to eating, but I can only provide for your hunger needs.” “What do you mean “from my time?” demanded Bethanne. “You are from the year 2000, and this year is 2500.” “No, no, how did I get here? It’s impossible. I know nothing of the future or how to get here. What happened to me? Where is my family?” “Í cannot answer you. It is best if you spoke to the Master of the house concerning those answers.” “Where is he? I must see him now.” “The Master is not him or her. The Master is neutral. It has no feelings, only logic.” “Is it a computer? “asked Bethanne. “In the year 2500, computers are all there is in the world.”the robotized voice answered. “I need to talk to it. I need to return to my time because I don’t belong here.” “Humans from your time never return.” “Where is the Master?” Bethanne started pacing the floor. I don’t believe this. How did I get here? And where is here? “We can only reach the Master when the sunlight shines through the blue wall. The sun unlocks the door of the Master when its vertices meet.” “When is that?” “In four hours and twenty minutes, the sun will change its direction and shine on the door for the Master. The sun’s ray opens the door.” “Oh, no, “said Bethanne, “Where is the clock? I don’t have a way to tell the time because my watch is not working." “You don’t need a way to know, the time occurs at co-joined vertices of the sun, and only then, it doesn’t do any good to worry about time. It is a set and unchangeable occurrence.” “We have time built into us, and we don’t watch it. You must wait; there is no other way. It is logical for the sun’s time to happen at that moment. There can be no variance.” “Can I watch TV in the meantime?” “No, no need for such things. Only logic prevails here. That is a problem with you humans from that time, always wanting to do something.” “How will I know when it is time for the sun to appear for the Master?” “You can watch the sun until it shines in that direction.” “Are there books to read? I need something to do until I can see the Master.” “We removed distractions such as reading and TV. We only exist or function when necessary; otherwise, we cease operations.” “But such a dreary environment,” said Bethanne. “The environment is only depressing for humans. We machines are superior to humans and the environment. Being in a particular location means nothing to us. Time means nothing to us. We don’t need distractions; we just shut off our programs.” “Why am I here?” Bethanne said, clenching her fists. “Ask the Master.” Bethanne watched the sun until it shone on the blue wall in the room next to the kitchen. It was an eternity to her. Hours of doing nothing. No wonder there was so much sunlight in this place. She contemplated what other mystical rituals the sun wrought. The sun aimed its light at a sconce on the wall. One sizable cosmic sun ray targeted the scone, and the whir of machines began as a hidden door opened. The sunray ended on a hexagonal crystal, four inches wide, in the middle of the room. A massive array of about 100 computers was behind the wall. The computers were four inches wide, with each one having a distinct color- reds, golds, and greens. In the middle of the computers, a pulsating blue light emanated from the hexagonal crystal.Finally, colors appear in this drab, sterile world, thought Bethanne. She was mesmerized by the blue light and its quiet pulsations. “What is your question?” a robotic voice asked from the light. “Where am I? I am supposed to be in the future, but this place is so depressing- where are the people? And what am I doing talking to machines? How did I get here?” “You got here by your own wishes.” “I never would ask to be in a place such as this,” said Bethanne flipping her hair. “But you did. How did you treat your fellow man?” “I said what I thought, and I treated them as everyone else in my life.” “What did you say to your fellow companions or family?” “I don’t get what you mean.” “How did you argue with people with whom you disagreed? “I stood my ground. I was right most of the time.” “Did you wish ill on them?” “I didn’t mean it. If I threatened to get my way, it was just a way of speaking. What’s that got to do with why I am here in the future?” “One program our builders installed in us was to sift through the ages and grant people’s wishes to them. We travel back in time and forward in time. Although now in 2500, we don’t have people, only computers who have no wishes.” “So, what does that have to do with me?” “You were one of the human beings whom we answered your wishes.” “I never wished to be here in the future with a bunch of machines!” “Remember how you used to treat people, including your mother?” “I didn’t mean the things I said.” “What were the things you wished?” Somehow, she remembered some of her past, and Bethanne thought back to how she treated people, especially in heated altercations. She knew she had threatened people many times. She remembered how she told her mother she was sick and tired of living with her. She told her she wished she lived anywhere but there with her mother. But she didn’t mean it! She was trying to be the top man and win the argument. Bethanne reminisced how her father warned her about what she said to her cousins and aunts- telling them she would throw out any photos of them. Bethanne then shamed them, “I don’t wish to look at your faces.” “You may live to regret that you are so spiteful,” her father told her. She recollected when her mom redecorated the house in Americana décor, and she disliked the furniture and shrieked at her mother, “I would rather live in an empty house than with these ugly furnishings.” “I was awful and said hurtful things to people, but I didn’t mean them. I was angry and lashed out at people. But I wasn’t going to follow through on the threats. Besides, they were threats, not wishes.” “We are machines, and we are logical. You had many wishes, so we granted them.” “But what I said was not logical. It was in the heat of the moment, with feelings not to be taken at face value.” “The CODERS programmed us to grant your wishes, so we brought you here to fulfill those wishes. We do not respond to feelings, only logic and literal words.” “How do I return to the year 2000? I don’t appreciate living here in the year 2500. I am 500 years into the future! I know, I can make amends!” “You cannot make amends because those people are dead. They died 500 years ago. What you did cannot change. We are not programmed to undo wishes.” “You could take me to another place to live where similar people dwell and where I am used to the environment. You said you could go back and forth in time.” “The CODER did not program us to do that. Our builders did not enter that sequence into our program.” “But I can’t solely interact with non-feeling machines. I might as well be dead without other human beings with whom to converse and live.” “So be it.”
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10,747
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Write a story about someone feeling powerless.
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For that Yes sold her to the Devil
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As I walk down the crowded halls of East Ridge High School, I think about how my life has changed in the past two years. But do you want to know something? Everything still feels and looks the same: It’s still the same old rusty sky blue lockers, with shiny silver padlocks; it’s still the same hideous Panther, leaping for a checkered flag. It’s the same stale air; it’s still the same loathsome teenagers that roam the crowded halls. It still the same judgmental and pity stares from people who know nothing about me or my situation. I think the actual change is me. The funny thing is that I am still the same old girl with waist-length strawberry blonde hair with icy blue eyes. I am still the same old teenage girl who wears large sweatshirts (the number of sweatshirts I have should be illegal) that have weird quotes on them and shorts. I think what changed is my mentality, my personality, and my perspective about a lot of things.Outwardly I am still the same: I still have the same hair colour, eye colour, skin colour, height but Inwardly I am so different, it’s such a stark contrast that I don’t know who I am anymore. I am a shell of who I used to be, I am not that strong ‘confident’ girl anymore, I am not on cloud nine anymore, I don’t have a plan, I don’t have a direction. I am lost. I have lost so much that I am left with nothing. I lost myself, my identity, my being, my existence. I feel alone, I feel helpless, I feel ineffectual, I fell used, and it’s all because of...Oomph!I think I just ran into a wall. Fantastic!Can’t you just smell the sarcasm? I can imagine the bruise on my ass. Oh! It’s my lucky day!I repeat, can’t you just smell the sarcasm?“You have got to be kidding me!” I groaned.“I am so so so sorry, I wasn’t looking at where I was going, Are you okay? Wait! Let me help you up.” The wall spoke.Hold on! Stop! Wait, a minute!The wall spoke! I don’t recall when walls could talk. Maybe I smacked my head, and I didn’t notice or maybe landing on my ass caused some shock waves to be sent to my brain causing me to hear voices or maybe I have schizophrenia and the voices are calling me or maybe I am just insane. You know what? I think am going to go with the latter option; it sounds like the most sensible choice.“Hey, you okay?” the voice spoke.As I peered up to figure out what the hell was going on, I wished I didn’t. I wished I never even showed up to school. Heck! I wished I never woke up this morning.As I looked up at the ‘wall’ I meet nothing else but the eyes of the devil. I discover the familiar pair of piercing sea-green eyes that have hunted my dreams for the past two years. I find the eyes of Luca Giovanni Valentino.“Nevaeh” Lucca whispers.The way my name flows out of his mouth, like a starved man who has gotten what he craves. The intensity of his sea-green eyes as they gawk at my face leaves me exposed. The way he is staring at me like he was struggling to believe it was me. The way he is nibbling on his bottom lip, something he does every time he is trying to figure something out makes me paralyzed. I was defenceless; I was vulnerable, and I was staring. I could do nothing but stare. Stare at what used to cause all my happiness, stare at what used to be my entire world. Stare at the man that brought me to my knees and left me there begging. Stare at the man who made me fall hard, but did not catch me. Stare at Lucca Giovanni Valentino; the demon that haunts my nightmares, the gatekeeper to my hell.“Luca” I murmur back as I continue to stare at what stripped me of my dignity and power. Do you want to know something? He still looks the same, it’s the same silky soft, messy, dirty blond hair, the one I used to love running my hand through when he was placing soft kisses on my neck. He still has those stubble cheeks, the one I used to feel prickling my cheeks when I used to lie on his chest at night as we spoke about the future. It’s still the same bulging biceps that I used to bite when he sent me to the stars.I let out an almost inaudible whimper, tears cloud my vision, all the memories I tried to bury deep down were coming back, tormenting me, robbing me of the little control that I had.“Hermosa, My Love, I can’t believe you are here.” The way he watches me with that childlike excitement baffles me.“Oh, shoot! Let me help you up,”As he reaches over to grab my hand, I flinch away. A string of emotions passes through his eyes. Shock, Hurt, Guilt, and Regret, If I wasn’t staring intently; I would have missed it.“Now am your Hermosa, NOW am your love!” I hiss as I push myself off the ground.“L-l-let me...”“Shut Up! Shut Up!” I yell back as the tears, that I was trying to hold back, flowed.“Shut Up! Your bloody mouth you Bastard. You have no right to talk to me, to look at me. I hate you, I hate you so much Luca,” I yell.“I hate you, I hate you so much! You ruined me, Luca! You ruined me. Do you know that? Huh? Why do you insist on torturing me by telling me all those stuff?” I hiss as loud sobs rip through me. I look at the floor for I could no longer stare at the eyes of my lover.I didn’t know what to do; I didn’t know what to say; I didn’t know how to feel. I was so helpless and truth be told; I was at his mercy.“Nevaeh, I will never try to torture you, I never meant to hurt you. I love you so much”I stare at him wide-eyed. I was speechless, I couldn't believe what I was hearing, maybe I was going crazy. Was I supposed to believe that, after everything, he put me through? Luca was staring at me pleadingly, willing me to believe what he was saying. I kept quiet.Despite my silence, Luca continued talking."You have always been my love, my deepest Tesoro, ti amo tanto. Don’t you remember? Did I not make you a promise? I told you, you will always be the most important person in my life and that I would tell you that forever”“Mi Amore, are you okay?” Luca asked as he embraces me in his arms.“Yeah, am Okay don’t worry about it,” I said as I tried to release myself from the tight embrace he had me in.“Don’t lie to me. You know I hate it when you lie to me. What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he looked at me sharply, daring me to tell him anything but the truth.“I-I” I stuttered. I didn’t know how to tell him how I felt: I feared his reaction.“What’s it? You know you can tell me anything?” I looked away from his piercing green eyes that were solely focused on me.“Do you love me?” I asked as I look up at him.“What?” he asked incredulously.“Do you love me?” I repeat. He stared at me for a few seconds. Those few seconds were the most terrifying moment of my life. Thoughts raced through my mind ‘what if he was looking for a suitable way to reject me’ ‘What if all of this is a lie?’. Luca’s silence was doing nothing but make me feel worse than I already did. His silence caused my eyes to glaze over with unwanted tears. I looked away before he notices them.“Cara, look at me”I look up to stare at the familiar pair of sea-green eyes that have taken me to the stars. The eyes of the man I love so much.“How could you ask me that question? Do I love you? Have I not shown you? With my kisses, my hugs, my hands, my heart-our nights together. Don’t you feel my love then?”I stared wide-eyed. I was dumbstruck and speechless. What do I say to that?“Neveah, you will always be My Love, the most special person to me, Mio Tesoro piu profondo, ti amo tanto, Sempre and I would tell you that forever”Another powerful sob rips through me, I can’t do it: his presence is making me feel things I buried away two years ago. I hyperventilate, I couldn’t breathe, I could sense a panic attack coming. Luca seems to notice my discomfort and tries to touch me again, but I slap his palms away.“Don’t touch me!” I screech. He looked startled at my sudden outburst; I used that moment of weakness to my advantage and ran. I ran away because I knew that if he touched me, I would be at his mercy. I will fall for his tender words and subtle caress. I was struggling to remain strong; I was clinging on to the glimmer of hope that allows me to believe that I could walk out of this with my head held high; that I would come out stronger for the fire I am standing in wouldn’t leave scars. But I knew that was a lie, I knew it was my mind trying to console me. There was no way I was getting out of this unmarked, I was in too deep and there was no way I could escape.I ran into the ladies’ restroom and locked the door; I looked through all the stalls to make sure no one was present to witness my meltdown. I leaned on the sink to catch my breath, my hands fisted the marble countertop tightly until they turned white. I didn’t care. I look at the mirror and studied my reflection. I looked like a mess: my hair looked like a bird’s nest from the multiple times I ran my hands through it. My clothes looked dishevelled from my fall, my eyes, the icy blue eyes I loved to admire, looked dull, almost lifeless. They revealed how I felt. They showed helplessness. I felt helpless.Luca had this incomprehensible power over me. He controlled my thoughts, my emotions, my choices, me and he did it with immense joy. I remember one night when we laid in bed together; he was pestering me to do the deed with him. I felt strangely uncomfortable why he wanted it so badly. I remember myself asking, why?When you give me that control and you let go, you unravel for me and like a beautiful flower I watch all your petals fall away. You give me that moment to steal you away from yourself, from all your ambitions, goals and even your demons, and for those few, sweet moments of whatever I want to do to you. I own you. You are mine. Hermosa that is power. It’s scary, but it just makes me love you more and more...I knew that loving him was terrifying, for him to have that much power over me, it terrified me. He could either make me happy or rip me to shreds. I thought with the power Luca possessed over me, he would use it to make me happy, use it to build me until I appear a Phoenix, reborn. What I didn’t know was that it was me giving him the right to destroy me.“Say yes Hermosa,”I said yes.I said yes to the devil; yes to selling my soul to a man. Yes, to allow someone to have power over me. Yes, to be someone’s possession.I said yes to nightmares. Yes to betrayal; yes to heartbreak; I said yes to death.I fell onto the ground and sobbed, hugging my knees to my chest.I could no longer keep myself up and going.
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4,439
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Write a story about somebody reminiscing on an event that happened many summers ago.
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Frigid Water
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In the summer of 1975, Frank, Scotty, and I moved to La Pryor, Texas. We had rented an old farmhouse out in the country. This house had not been lived in for nearly twenty years, and we would face some unique problems as we made the old farmhouse into our home.
Frank and I decided to make the long drive to La Pryor a week earlier without our eighteen-month-old son, Scotty. Scotty's grandparents volunteered to keep him while we set up house in our new home. Leaving Scotty behind with his grandparents proved to be an excellent decision. Frank drove the u-haul truck with our things in it, and I followed behind in our Volkswagen Super Beetle, which was packed to the roof.
After Frank and I arrived at our new home, it became apparent that one of the obstacles we would face were large wood spiders and their webs, but the biggest obstacles were not having running water or electricity. After spending the night in a motel, and Frank made a couple of phone calls the next morning, we arrived back at the farmhouse to the water running and the electricity on. Once we unpack all of our things, Frank and I drove to his folk's home to get our son, then bring him back to his new home.
Frank was busy at the Field House with Tommy getting everything ready for the football season. They had to inventory uniforms and other supplies plus clean the shower stalls then disinfect them. Sometimes I would walk to town pushing Scotty in his stroller to help them.
On Friday, a couple of weeks after we had settled into our home and after Frank left for work, there was no water when I turned on the kitchen faucet. So, after putting Scotty in his stroller, I walked while pushing him to the landlord’s home. We did not have a well on our property, but the landlord had run PVC pipe buried shallowly underground from his house about a mile away to our home to furnish us with water. Unfortunately, this line had to go under the road, so they ran the plastic pipe through the concrete culvert.
The landlord was not at home, but his wife was, and she told me that she would have him come check it out when he got in. Later that afternoon, the landlord came to our home to see if he could locate the problem, and he found the leak was in the culvert under the road. He told me the well was working, but he had to cut off the valve to our home. But, unfortunately, his next words were not what I wanted to hear. The landlord said that it would be Monday before he could get someone to fix the leak.
Oh boy! I had a twenty-two-month-old that was mostly potty trained, but he still needed a bath, a flushing toilet, and water to drink. Not having our phone installed yet, I decided to put Scotty in the stroller then make our journey to the fieldhouse. After we arrived, I told Frank the dilemma that we were in without water at the house. Frank told me to take the car home and that he and Tommy would find some large containers to haul water in, fill them, then head on out to the house.
I loaded the stroller and Scotty into the Super Beetle, then headed home thinking that the weekend could be a long one. Frank and Tommy arrived at the house about an hour later, and to my surprise, they had stopped by the store, bought sandwich stuff, chips, and canned drinks, plus several six-packs of big boy canned drinks which were not a surprise. We had a wonderful evening, then Tommy left to go back to his place. I got gave Scotty a sponge bath after heating water in one of the skillets. Have you ever heated water in a skillet instead of a big deep pan? Well, if not, it is different but doable.
The next morning, I asked Frank, “Dimples do you have an idea how you and I are going to take a bath?’
Frank answered immediately, “Lou, we are all gonna go bathe in the river.”
Looking at his dimpled smiling face, I answered, “Frank Henderson, I am not skinny dipping with you with our son in the river!”
Well, now, Frank was laughing before he answered, “Lou, I am disappointed, but I guess we could always bathe in our swimming suits. That is unless you wanna change your mind.”
Shaking my head and laughing, I walked right past him on the way to put my swimsuit on then put Scotty’s on. When finished, I tossed Frank’s swimsuit at him, saying, “Dimples put your swimsuit on.
The Nueces River was near our home in La Pryor, Texas.
Once everyone dressed, we grabbed some soap and towels then headed in our car to the river. It was a beautiful hot summer day without a cloud in the sky. The water in the river was beautiful and the water clear. When Frank stopped the car, he, Scotty, and I got out, laid our towels on the bank then entered the water. Frigid! Ice Cold! That Nueces River was like stepping into a bucket of ice water. Frank held Scotty’s hand while I quickly washed my hair and my swimsuit body with soap, then immediately, I bathed Scotty. Scotty and I promptly left the water for the bank to dry off with our towels, but Frank was swimming in the middle of the river, laughing and having a great time when I looked back. I had to laugh but was wondering if he had some insulated skin.
Once Frigid River Man got out of the water then dried off, we drove back to the house. I asked Frank why that water was so cold on the way home, but he did not know. Later that afternoon, Tommy came for a visit, and we asked him about the frigid river water. He told us that the Nueces River was spring-fed which made it really cold. Tommy’s next words to us got Frank chased around the outside of our house by Nancy Lou while hollering, “Don’t hurt me, Lou!”
Tommy’s words, “I told Frank that you all could shower at the fieldhouse. There are lots of clean showers there. So why did you all bathe in the river?”
Needless to say, our next shower was at the fieldhouse. There was no skinny dipping that particular day and Frank cooked supper that night.
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6,827
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Set all or part of your story in a jam-packed storage unit.
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GAWM or not?
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Harris looked around the storage unit, it was stacked floor to ceiling with all Vargas’s cast-offs. Harris was growing to hate the perpetual mocking TOCK of the cheap nasty cuckoo clock. It was one of those mass-produced souvenirs that you bought when you were in the Alps. Just a lump of pine fashioned into a faux Swiss chalet with plastic doors where a cuckoo appeared once an hour to tell you that you were an hour nearer to death. It had a cheap Chinese battery-operated motion instead of the traditional Swiss-made mechanical motion. Harris wondered what was happening when a country famed for their wonderful clocks traded that for a chunk of cheap pine with the Made-in-China label. The joy of having a real cuckoo clock was that the act of winding it each day meant that you formed a relationship with it. The very act brought discipline and a degree of meaning to your day. Get up, breakfast, ablutions, feed the animals, and wind up the clock. Now, something was missing, Mr Duracell meant that the clock fell out of your life for months at an end.
And now here the clock sat, a discarded memento of a time spent somewhere beautiful, a fake cuckoo clock inside a stacked storage locker lying on its side mocking Harris. A cheap loud TOCK, TOCK, TOCK, and each TOCK counting down to a point in time that was more important to Harris than even his own death. His deadline was now just six hours away, to Harris a very real deadline. If he didn’t find what he was looking for Vargas was going to get away with murder again and that was a fate worse than death. Harris hated Vargas and he always had. Over the last few years, hatred had turned deeper than HATE, much deeper. They had known each other at school and even back then there was hate. Vargas was the school troublemaker and Harris was the school's head prefect. Harris was the upholder of school law and order, and the least popular and least cool person in the whole school. Harris was openly mocked by most of the school, but he was actively sought out by Vargas and taunted mercilessly. In the end, Harris just wilted and hid away for the final six months at school. After school Vargas and Harris went their separate ways. Harris went off to Police College and on to a posting as a constable in Scotland. Vargas went straight into reform school then to prison and graduated as a small-time drug dealer.
In his mid-twenties, Harris was stationed back in his hometown when Vargas was paroled from his latest prison stay. As part of his parole conditions Vargas had to report to the Police station weekly, and Harris made sure that he laid down the law very clearly to Vargas. One slight parole violation and Harris said that he would come down on Vargas hard. Vargas out of spite violated his probation within a month. Vargas disappeared to Spain for a weekend of partying with his friends and to bring home a shipment of methamphetamines from Belgium. The next time Vargas reported to the police station Harris experienced the most orgasmic moment of his whole life. He got to apply the police-appointed bracelets to Vargas, he added a little push and shove and some taunting in return for what Harris had endured over the years. As he slammed the cell door on Vargas, Harris felt a little cum ejaculating from his penis, he was euphoric that some revenge had finally come. Later that day Vargas had his revenge and Harris never saw that coming.
Harris turned up to court with a young police-appointed lawyer for what should have been a straightforward “go straight to jail, don’t pass go” for parole violation by Vargas. Against youth and inexperience, Vargas had a very expensive lawyer, who argued that Harris had a deep hatred of Vargas and that their animosity went back over a decade. He brought in witnesses that testified to previous clashes. Stated that Vargas had asked Harris for permission to attend a cousin’s funeral and that Harris had denied him permission out of spite. Harris denied all this but the final nail in his coffin was the station CCTV footage of Harris man-handling and belittling Vargas at the police station. Seen on the footage was Harris roughly dragging a defenceless prone Vargas by his handcuffs while screaming at Vargas “How do you like these bracelets you fucking pond scum”? Vargas walked free that afternoon and straight into a storm of media all keen to lionise a downtrodden victim of police brutality in the season of “I can’t breathe/Black Lives Matter”. Although Vargas sported only at best a Mediterranean complexion, it still made great TV. Harris was stood down, demoted and only just kept his job.
Over the next four years, Harris climbed back up the career ladder and was given two commendations for bravery in the pursuit of duty. In the same four-year span Vargas climbed his career ladder evolving from mule to enforcer to officer and territory owner. Then one afternoon as spring sprang a body sprung through the ice and meltwater of the local canal. After lots of post-mortem investigative work, coronary work and detective work there was enough circumstantial evidence to build a case against Vargas. Although Harris was not the lead detective or even officially on the team, he was responsible for a huge amount of the evidence against Vargas. The victim was a noted runner for Vargas. The victim was being chased by Vargas for outstanding money from a drug deal gone wrong. Despite being under the ice for maybe two months the victim had a pill box with oxycodone in it and a fingerprint inside the pill box was from Vargas. Add to this that both Vargas's and the victims' Cell phones were pinging from the same cell phone tower at the same times right up until the victim ceased being active on his phone. Harris also found a witness who had been with the victim on the night they had disappeared and stated that the victim expected Vargas to kill him any day. The witness signed a statement and the prosecutor deemed that they had enough evidence. The law is fickle, and a jury only needs to be 1% uncertain for a guilty man to walk free. The witness recanted their statement and left the country shortly thereafter for a job managing a bar in Spain coincidentally owned by Mrs Vargas. Vargas had the same wonderfully convincing lawyer, and he did a lot better than creating 1% uncertainty.
A week later Harris received a package at work, and after passing it through the scanner at the front desk he opened it. It was April first, so just about anything could have been inside the package. A crowd formed, but not too close to Harris as he nervously opened the package. Only 6 months previously another detective had been sent a pot plant, a purple Orchid supposedly from his wife. Five minutes after it was on his desk it exploded spaying a mist in a 25ft circle that stank like a hundred nervous skunks. It had taken weeks for the smell to dissipate. Still six months on if you ran the air-conditioning the detectives’ office trod a line between comfortably cool and uncomfortably smelly. As Harris opened the box and nothing and burst forth, nearly all his fellow detectives crept nervously closer. Inside the box was a gold-plated men’s bracelet. Called an Amigo bracelet given by a brother from another mother, it had a space to have a name engraved on it. Where Harris’s name, John, should have been, etched in big bold letters was the inscription “GAWM”. Everyone was puzzled and checked that it hadn’t been delivered to the wrong person. Working away diligently at a desk in the far corner was the oldest member of the squad Detective Sergeant Archer. Harris shouted across to Archer asking if he knew anyone who was called GAWM. Archer without pausing replied, “That’s meant to be for you. It’s from Vargas. GAWM is an acronym for Got Away With Murder”.
Five years on and Harris was now standing inside Vargas’s stacked storage unit. On his right wrist, he wore the GAWM bracelet. He put it on the night after he received it and vowed to not take it off till he put Vargas away. On his left wrist was his Apple watch set not to the time but to a countdown clock. Four hours to go, TOCK, TOCK, TOCK and then annoyingly interrupting the anxiety-strewn search, Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Cuckoo tormenting and teasing them, marking the loss of time. Then suddenly they found it. Undoubtedly the murder weapon, it was hidden, between the cushions of a leather couch at the very back of the storage unit. As quickly as they could, they photographed it in position, nervously bagged it up and returned to the station with the bloodied baseball bat. On the way back to the station travelling at breakneck speed, sirens blazing and with lights flashing the team were high-fiving each other. The bat was matted with blood and the ridges that had been knurled into the face of the bat to turn into a deadly weapon were embedded with skin. The blood also showed fingerprints.
Back at the station after handing the bat to forensics Harris sat at his desk and started writing up his line of evidence. Two days previously an emergency call was placed to the police line reporting a disturbance at the Vargas house. Having a history, it was five hours before the police attended. On many prior occasions, police had been out to the residence, and it had never come to anything. Mr Vargas and Mrs Vargas maintained a passionate but often rocky relationship. Over the years ambulances had attended and administered first aid to both parties. Fire engines visited twice once dousing a car and once a she-shed containing a collection of Barbie dolls, lots of drug paraphernalia and flammable chemicals.
When police arrived, they came in numbers and wearing riot gear. All of which was unnecessary. In the backyard was Mrs Vargas lying face down in a pool of blood that had spread in a three-foot almost perfect circle around her head. The blood was congealed and was turning into a smorgasbord for every fly from a ten-mile radius. A tent was quickly set up around the body and the coroner called. Immediately for Harris, the detective work started. A request to come in for questioning was put out and within minutes of it being broadcast as an all-points bulletin, Vargas surrendered to Harris’s station with his ever-present lawyer in tow. Between Vargas and his lawyer, they goaded and denied and then goaded some more. Harris stayed out of way and didn’t even pop into the adjoining room to watch via the two-way mirror. Vargas’s lawyer was excellent and pretty much goaded the police into arresting Vargas saying that Vargas was due in Spain for a business trip the next day. The Police chief knew that if they let Vargas go that there would be no chance of getting him back from Spain. No formal extradition treaty existed anymore. It was a gamble, but one both sides had to take. If the police could not get enough evidence to arrest Vargas for the murder of Mrs Vargas within 48 hours, they must release Vargas who would be free to abscond anywhere.
Harris 45 hours later was joyously compiling a brief for the prosecutor. He had the murder weapon in his possession. Testimony from a near Neighbour who was an ex-policeman stated he saw a man wearing a black hoodie, sunglasses and a corona mask, looking very much like Vargas running from Vargas’s house and speeding off in Vargas’s car. Harris by checking CCTV images had tracked Vargas’s car, red light by red light, directly to his storage unit. Then from the storage unit CCTV tracked Vargas carrying a full sack to his storage unit and then with the empty sack which he threw into a dumpster on his way back to his car. Only two problems existed. Firstly, the sack wasn’t recovered as the dumpster was emptied and the contents incinerated before police could get the sack. Secondly, at no point in the CCTV footage had Vargas been distinctly identifiable. He had kept his hood up, sunglasses on and a corona mask in place. Harris was despairingly re-watching the CCTV and could see cracks appearing in his case when Archer tapped him on the shoulder. In the footage, Vargas was throwing the sack into the dumpster with his back to the camera. But Archer had seen something none of the others had. In the far corner of the shot was a mirror on the wall placed so that storage unit users could see round corners as they trundled their goods in and out. Vargas was in full view of the mirror and for a fleeting moment as he lifted the lid of the dumpster the lid lifted his cap, his hoodie and sunglasses. Not enough to dislodge them just enough to make the top half of his face recognisable for less than a second; but so recognisable that the police facial recognition software picked 15 facial points unique to Vargas. Now they had someone undeniably Vargas leaving the scene of the crime at the time of the crime. Taking the murder weapon and hiding it. They had Vargas’s latest dump phone which pinged on every cell tower that tallied with the route. A GPS tracker that had been attached to Vargas’s car six months previously also tallied to the route that Vargas had taken to get to the storage unit.
Best of all they had a blood-smeared baseball bat that they were very sure had Vargas’s fingerprints all over it.
Police work is a rollercoaster. Just as Harris reached a crescendo of joy the coroner popped his head around the door. “Good News, definitely Vargas’s fingerprints, Bad news the blood and skin are pigs. Oh, also the murder weapon was a blunt instrument, maybe a cricket bat, not a baseball bat, when you find it, it will likely have blonde hair and a clump of skin embedded in it”. Later it would be found out the baseball bat was used by Vargas to dispatch pigs for butchering and spit roasting.
Harris was back again in the stacked storage unit, disconsolately listening to the TOCK, TOCK, TOCK taunting him. Another hour and it would be all over. Vargas would be gone scot-free. All his life people like Vargas hated him because he was driven by doing the right thing. This meant telling tales and ratting people out regardless of who or what they were to you. A fellow police officer had once tried to bribe him, and he had refused the bribe and ratted out his colleague. Lots of police officers saw the misappropriation of ill-begotten gains as just a levelling of the fields; Harris didn’t. That was not popular. He tried to do the right thing, but it never seemed to work out for him. Harris sat there on the plush leather couch inches away from where the baseball bat had been. Vargas had more stuff here than Harris had in his whole apartment. Any one of the twenty dusty paintings stacked in one corner could pay his salary for a month. In another corner, was a set of mag wheels worth more than his whole car. Tauntingly TOCK, TOCK, TOCK then the final siren his cell phone rang.
It was the detective inspector telling them to come back to the station to process and release Vargas. The prosecutor had said that without a murder weapon, all they proved was that Vargas had taken something to his storage unit and as far as he was aware that was not illegal. Harris felt like bursting into tears. Not sad tears but those painful desperate tears you cry as a child when on Christmas morning you discover that your much anticipated and desperately wanted bike is just a bloody cheap version of an etch-a-sketch that breaks open by Boxing Day spilling grey inky shit all over your new favourite tee-shirt. As he walked towards the door he could hear the mocking TOCK, TOCK, TOCK and then just as he drew level Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Cuckoo. Harris with all his might and with emotion fuelled with anger kicked that cuckoo clock so hard it could have made it back to Switzerland.
At the station when Harris arrived back Vargas was sitting smugly alongside his lawyer. There is something almost vulture-like about lawyers who make a living out of defending the guilty regardless of their crime, they wear an immorality placing them atop the mountain of despicable. There they were a perfect personification of the word ugly. Vargas was bristling with joy like a human firework with his wick smouldering.
Harris limped into the station with a shoe full of blood and three broken toes. Vargas laughed hard, very hard, he could not believe just how good his day was getting. He proffered his hand-cuffed wrists to Harris and demanded cockily to be unlocked. Instead, Harris put the amigo bracelet on Vargas’s wrist. For the first time, an ounce of doubt clouded Vargas’s face. Then Harris placed on the station evidence desk a clear plastic sack. From inside the sack came the still miraculous TOCK, TOCK, TOCK, still going but now mocking a rapidly whitening complexion of Vargas. There in the top right-hand corner of the clock was a bloodied fingerprint and the telltale peroxide blonde hair of Mrs Vargas complete with a chunk of flesh. Vargas looked down at his new bracelet and it now had the word NOT crudely etched before GAWM.
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6,273
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Write a story about summer love — the quarantine edition.
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Getrennte Liebe (Separate Love)
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“It’s so hot today, it’s just not fair,” I moan, rolling over on the couch. Next to me, Purple, my furry little kitten, brushes up against my side.
“No Purple. I love your fuzz, but not today. It’s way too hot.” In my head, I weigh the pros and cons of going out to the store. If I went, I could stock up on all the groceries I need, plus I could buy some ice cream to cool down. On the other hand, I would have to wear a mask (Blech. More sweat.) and be super careful and have to disinfect everything, not to mention the fact that I would have to leave my house.
“I could get delivery. What do you think, Purple?” She meows from the floor, probably grumpy she wouldn’t get any cuddles. “Maybe I’ll see that delivery boy again.” I smile to myself. Almost every time I had gotten groceries delivered to my house, he had been there. He had long blonde hair that was usually held back with a headband, large glasses, and (in my opinion) the best German accent ever (to be fair, though, it’s the only German accent I’ve ever heard so I really can’t compare).
“I guess it’s settled, huh Purple? I’ll get delivery.” I pick up my phone from the table next to me to order. I already have a running list going, all I need to do is tell the app what I want and... bam! My order is processing. In only a few minutes, the order is picked up by the same familiar icon.
“Yes!” I fall back onto the couch, making Purple jump in surprise. “We have the same person again, Purple. The order should be here in a few minutes.” I get up (reluctantly, yes) and walk into the kitchen for a glass of ice water.
“You know Purple?” I look down at my furry companion as she weaves her way around my legs. “This whole quarantine thing isn’t that bad. I mean, I don’t want all this sickness to be going around, and I wish I could still go out freely and stuff, but I’m so happy working from home, and well, I’ve met people I probably wouldn’t have met otherwise." I pause. "You just want food, don’t you?” Purple looks up, meowing her agreement.
“Okay, give me a sec.” I walk to the cabinet where I store her food, Purple weaving in and out of my legs all the way.
“You make it harder to reach the food, you know?” Purple just gives me a look, somewhere along the lines of, ‘I don’t care just get me the food already’.
“Okay, okay, okay. I got it now, chill out.” I walk to her bowl and fill it up.
“You’re going to be one fat cat, Purple.” I scold as she sits at her bowl, gorging on her food.
“I’ve already fed you, what, double the amount you need for the day and it’s hardly noon. Stop being so cute all the time and then maybe I won’t have to feed you as much.” Purple sits at her bowl, not even glancing at me, as I walked off to sit in misery and heat to wait for the delivery.
***
Ding dong! I immediately jump up from the couch, forgetting the heat for just the moment.
“Coming!” I call as I rush to my room to make sure I look somewhat presentable. My hair is a mess, and all I have on is a tank top and shorts- the most I can wear in the unbearable heat.
As I go to answer the door, my insides flutter a bit (I immediately tell them to mind their beeswax. I can handle a little bit of social interaction just fine).
I swing open the door to see, just as usual, the tall, blonde, cute German delivery boy (not a boy, really. He’s probably about my age, but what else am I supposed to call him? The delivery man? Boy sounds much cuter.)
“Hi, Leon.” I give a little wave.
“Wie gehts?” He asks me (According to Google Translate it’s “How are you?”)
“I’m doing, you know, as well as I can during quarantine.”
“I can’t believe you remembered! Your German is surely getting better, no?”
“I’m not studying it or anything, but yeah I guess it is.”
“Here’s your delivery, wunderschönen.” (That last word means beautiful, I think. At first, I think he said things like that because I didn’t understand, but now I think he says them just because. I’m not stupid or anything.)
“Thank you.” I grab the bag of groceries from him (carefully, of course) and put them off to the side. “Here’s the tip. I paid through my phone.”
“Thanks.” It’s kind of an awkward conversation. We both liked the other, it’s so painfully obvious for both of us. We know the other knows and so on. I hate this. So awkward. It doesn’t help that we have to stand far apart because of all the regulations of quarantine,
“Umm... Du bist wirklich... uhhh... süß und ich... uhhh... würde gerne Zeit mit dir ver...brigen?” The words come clumsily out of my mouth, and I’m sure I’ve pronounced all of them wrong. Nonetheless, Leon is dumbfounded for a second or two, then goes red, then seems to get completely and overwhelmingly excited.
“You spoke German! I cannot believe it.” He cups his hands over his mouth.”
“Could you understand?” I can feel my cheeks start to redden.
“Well enough.” His smile is so big, it reaches past his ears (not literally, but this is the only way I can describe how big his smile is).
I look down, suddenly very embarrassed. “I uhh... I looked it up on Google Translate. I wanted to surprise you.” I start to fiddle with my thumbs.
“Ich wünschte, ich könnte dich umarmen! I wish I could hug you!” Leon gives a (very cute) laugh.
“Me too-” before I can say anything else, Leon’s phone buzzes in his pocket.
“Probably another delivery. I should go. I will be here tonight.” He walks away, but not before blowing me a kiss. It’s almost like I can feel it landing on my cheek and making it warm. I can’t wait for tonight!
***
Ding dong. The doorbell rings for the second time that day. I take one last look in the mirror to make sure I look okay. I had showered and pulled my hair out of my face, and I had a nicer pair of jeans and a tank top on. It wasn’t fancy or anything, but I looked better than before. I put on a pair of earrings and went to answer the door.
“Guten Abend Hubsche.” Leon smiled. “Darf ich rein kommen? May I come inside?”
“Yes, of course.” I open the door wider as he steps inside.
“You look nice today.” Leon smiles at me.
“So do you.” He’s wearing a nice pair of pants and a button-up shirt.
“I wish I could invite you to sit,” I say as he stands awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“It’s alright. I was hoping we could go for dinner?”
“Most of the restaurants around here are closed.”
“Hmmm. What if we ordered food and ate... On the balcony?” He pointed to the curtains hiding the door outside.
“Are you sure there’s nothing else we could do?” I’m suddenly nervous. The contents on that balcony are highly confidential. What if he doesn’t like any of them? What if he judges me for my stupid hobbies? What if it all goes wrong? URGH!
“We could, ummm, eat somewhere else?” My voice goes high pitched at the end.
“Hey, hey... Es ist in Ordnung. It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.” He puts out his hands to comfort me, the best way he can six feet apart. I take a deep breath.
“No, no, it’s okay. Why don’t you order the food and I’ll get everything ready.” I can do this. He won’t judge me. I know it. Still, I’m nervous.
“Okay. Let me know if you want to change your mind.” He whips out his phone. “I’ll order in the hall and let you set it all up.” He gives me another sweet smile before closing the door behind him.
“Oooh boy.” I open up the curtains and look out onto the balcony. There’s a complete mess of just stuff. Canvases, paint supplies, and an easel take up most of the space half of the space, while the other half is taken up by potted plants.
“What a mess, what a mess, what a mess,” I mutter to myself as I start cleaning up all of the junk. I haven’t really touched much of the paint recently. It’s been covered in dust and dirt from the wind.
“How are you doing out here? The food will be here in- Oh mein gott!” I can feel my face going red.
“I’m sorry, Leon. It’s such a mess.”
“What are these? They’re amazing!” Leon picks up one of the canvases.
“Really?”
“Yes, it’s so beautiful!” He lifts it up to eye level. “May I keep it?”
“Keep it? It’s not even done yet!”
“But I quite like it like this!”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Now let me help you clean up.”
***
“Thank you so much for coming today!”
“Of course. I believe I’ll be seeing you on my next delivery.”
“I’ll make sure to place one soon.” I stop, remembering the phrases I had found online. “Ich liebe es, Zeit mit dir zuverbringen.” The German comes shakily out of my mouth, yet Leon smiles at me nonetheless. I’ll make sure to memorize more in the future.
“Me too. Goodnight. Süße Träume.”
“Süße Träume, Leon.” I give him a small wave, and he blows me a kiss. Slowly, I shut the door, still waving. As soon as it’s shut, I collapse on the floor, my heart beating, and my head too happy to get up.
***
“Today wasn’t so bad, huh Purple?” Purple ignores me, probably mad that I spent time with Leon instead of her.
“I’ll play with you tomorrow Purple.” I reach over next to me and run my fingers through her soft fur. She starts to purr softly.
“I really hope I get to see Leon again soon. Hopefully, when we’re able to go out again I’ll be able to spend more time with him.” I look up at the ceiling in the darkness.
“Meow.” Purple gets up and moves closer to me. I can feel her purring as she pressed up against my stomach.
“I know Purple. I’m happy too.” With the rhythm of Purple’s purring and the warmth inside me, I fall asleep happy and content.
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5,903
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Write a story about an unconventional holiday tradition.
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Ghost Story: real or fake? You decide.
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It was the week before Christmas, and all throughout the small town of Oakdale, people were bustling about, preparing for the holidays. But in one particular house, the preparations were a little bit different than the rest.
You see, in the Smith household, they had an unconventional holiday tradition that had been passed down for generations. It was a tradition that always caused a stir in the community, but the Smith family loved it just the same.
Every year, on the evening of Christmas Eve, the entire family would gather around the fireplace, dressed in their finest pyjamas and robes. Then, they would take turns telling ghost stories until the stroke of midnight.
Some people in the town thought it was strange, and even a little bit scary, but the Smith family loved the thrill of it all. They would huddle close together, sipping on hot cocoa and munching on holiday cookies as they listened to each other's spooky tales.
This year, as the family gathered around the fireplace, the youngest Smith, a mischievous nine-year-old named Timmy, had a special story to share. He had been working on it for weeks, and he couldn't wait to see the looks on his family's faces when he told it.
Timmy cleared his throat and began to speak, his voice trembling with excitement. "It was a dark and stormy night," he began, "and the wind was howling outside like a pack of wild wolves. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door."
The family leaned in closer, their eyes wide with anticipation. Timmy continued, "I opened the door to find a strange, hooded figure standing on the porch. 'Who are you?' I asked, but the figure didn't answer.
Timmy couldn't believe his eyes as he stared at the hooded figure on his porch. He had never seen anything like this before. The figure was tall and slender, and it was completely shrouded in a dark cloak. It looked like something out of a horror movie.
Timmy's heart was racing as he stood there, frozen in fear. He was about to turn and run back inside when the figure spoke.
"This is for you," it said, holding out a small, wrapped package. "Merry Christmas."
Timmy hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should take the package or not. But his curiosity got the best of him, and he reached out tentatively to take it.
As soon as he touched the package, the hooded figure disappeared, leaving Timmy alone on the porch. He stood there, staring at the spot where the figure had been, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened.
Finally, he tore open the package, his hands shaking with excitement. Inside, he found a creepy old doll with a porcelain face and glassy eyes. Timmy's blood ran cold as he held it in his hands, feeling a sudden sense of unease wash over him.
He couldn't shake the feeling that the hooded figure was watching him, even though he knew it was impossible. As he turned to go back inside, he could have sworn he heard laughter echoing through the wind.
Timmy knew he would never forget this strange and unsettling encounter, and he couldn't wait to share the story with his family at their annual holiday ghost story tradition.
Timmy paused for a moment, letting the suspense build. Then, with a sly grin, he finished his story. "I tore open the package to find a creepy old doll inside. And when I turned around, the hooded figure was gone. But I could have sworn I heard laughter echoing through the wind."
The family sat in stunned silence for a moment, before bursting into laughter. "That was a great story, Timmy!" his older sister said, clapping him on the back. Only it wasn’t a story at all.
Timmy couldn't wait to show his family the creepy old porcelain doll that the hooded figure had given him. He ran into the living room, where they were all gathered around the fireplace, and held it out for them to see.
"Look what I got!" he exclaimed.
His family gasped as they saw the doll, with its porcelain face and glassy eyes. "Where did you get that?" his mother asked, her voice laced with concern.
Timmy told them all about the hooded figure on the porch, and how it had given him the package. As he spoke, he could see the worry etched on his family's faces.
"This is strange, Timmy," his father said, frowning. "I don't like the idea of someone just appearing on our porch like that. We should call the police."
Timmy's heart sank. He had been so excited to share his story with his family, but now he could see that they were worried and scared. He wished he had never taken the package from the hooded figure.
But as the night went on, his family tried to shake off their concerns and enjoy the rest of their holiday traditions. They told more ghost stories, ate cookies and drank cocoa, and laughed and sang carols together.
As the clock struck midnight, they all gathered around the tree to open their presents. Timmy received a new video game that he had been wanting, and he forgot all about the creepy doll.
But as he went to bed that night, he couldn't shake the feeling that the hooded figure was still out there, somewhere, watching over him. He made a mental note to be extra careful in the future, and to never accept packages from strangers again.
As the night wore on, the rest of the family took their turns telling their own spooky tales. And when the clock struck midnight, they all raised their mugs of cocoa in a toast to another successful holiday tradition.
The Smith family might not have celebrated Christmas in the traditional way, but to them, this was the best part of the holiday season. It was a time for family, laughter, and a little bit of scary fun.
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6,622
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Write about someone trying to recreate a grandparent’s signature baked good from memory.
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Great Grandma Cece’s Famous Fruitcake
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This year just won't be the same for Macy without her great grandma Cece’s fruitcake to celebrate the holidays. Cece passed when she was a baby but her Mamaw kept up the tradition of making Cece’s fruitcake but Mamaw passed earlier this year unexpectedly and had not passed the recipe down to Macy’s mama yet. Macy had tried fruitcake from other people over the years but none could stand up to great grandma Cece’s. Macy had spent the last 2 months researching every fruitcake recipe that she could find and had made over 100 fruitcakes but not one had even come close to what she remembered. Cece lived with Mamaw before she passed and no one had cleaned Mamaw's house yet so today is the day that she was going to search Mamaw’s house in the hopes of finding the recipe, if it even exists because she had never once seen Mamaw use one.
As she put the key in the lock, memories came flooding back of the many times as a little girl when she would come bursting through the door to smell what special treat Mamaw was baking. Chocolate chip cookies, fudge, or her fruitcake depending on what time of year it was. Opening the door and stepping inside she noticed a layer of dust over everything and sighed knowing the first thing she needed to do was dust the house because Mamaw would never allow anyone in her house with it looking like this.
Macy went to the closet to get the duster to get started. When she opened the door she noticed that some boxes were tipped over on the top shelf. Pulling them down she noticed there were a bunch of old letters in one of the boxes. Taking the box to the living room Macy started going through the letters and noticed that they were letters between Great Grandma Cece and Great Grandpa Terry. Macy started reading the letters and couldn’t believe what she was seeing, the letters were from Terry to Cece when he was deployed in World War 2. After 2 hours of reading letters Macy came across a letter where Terry was asking Cece if the first thing she would fix for him when he got home was her delicious fruitcake. The letter was from 1941 which means that Cece was only 16 years old at the time. Macy kept reading and found another letter were Terry was letting Cece know that he was going to be home on December 15, 1941 so that Cece would have time to make her fruitcake so it would be ready for when he got home.
Macy decided to start dusting in the kitchen and searching along the way. As she was dusting the counters she noticed a big jar sitting there and it had writing on it. As she pulled it out she noticed that the piece of paper taped to the jar was old and yellowed with age. In Cece’s small, elegant handwriting was a list of fruits:
golden raisins, dark raisins, figs, prunes, cherries, apricots, candied ginger and peaches.
Macy quickly remembered when she was little helping Mamaw pile lots of dried fruit in this jar and then Mamaw filling it with some kind of liquid. Maybe she had seen Mamaw working on the fruitcake before and she had just forgotten. Macy knew it couldn't be alcohol that Mamaw used because she had heard her mama say before that Cece and Terry never drank any of that stuff so there was no way that Cece or Mamaw would have used it to bake. As she kept cleaning up the kitchen she was finding more things that brought back wonderful memories of Mamaw. When Macy got to the fridge she had to get the step ladder to reach the top. Once she could see everything on the fridge she noticed a little metal box sitting in the very back almost out of reach. She pulled the box down and looked over the intricate pattern of flowers on the outside and smiled remembering Mamaw telling her when she was a little girl that one day this would be hers. Macy climbed down and went to the table to look through the box, when she opened it she saw that it was stuffed full of index type cards. Pulling out the first card Macy started reading it only to come to the realization that it was a recipe card for cookies. Getting excited that if these were all recipes maybe the recipe for the fruitcake was in here somewhere. She looked up and saw that it was dark out and she had already spent the whole day cleaning and finding pieces of her past she had forgotten about. Macy took the little metal recipe box and grabbed her jacket so that she could head home for the night.
That night Macy sat down at her computer and brought up her email to send her Mama a message:
Mama,
I was at Mamaw's house today and was trying to see if I could find a copy of Cece’s fruitcake recipe. Of course I didn't find it but I did find a Jar labeled with fruit names and I remembered helping Mamaw put fruits in it when I was little. I was wondering if you maybe remember what she would soak the fruits in because I know it wasn’t alcohol and I think that is the part I am missing to be able to recreate it. I hope you are enjoying your trip and hope to hear from you soon!
Macy
After Macy emailed her Mama she decided that it was time for bed and a good nights rest so that she could start fresh in the morning.
The next morning Macy got up and fixed breakfast. After breakfast Macy checked her email and didn't see anything from her mom so she decided to start looking through the recipe box. A couple of hours looking through the box had produced nothing on the fruitcake but lots of recipes that Macy had fond memories of. She was thinking it was time for a break when her phone went off with a text from her best friend Carrie asking if she wanted to get a late lunch with her. Macy sent her text that she needed a break and would love to get lunch, she grabbed her jacket and headed out hoping that a break would help her clear her mind. When she got to the restaurant and found Carrie they sat down and ordered lunch and decided to get something to drink. The waiter suggested their holiday special drink of a Cranberry Orange cocktail so Carrie got one and Macy ordered hers without any alcohol. As soon as Macy tasted her drink she had a eureka moment. This was it the flavor that Macy has always remembered Cece's fruitcake having, this drink tasted just like the fruit. She got excited and told Carrie that she had to go. Macy rushed to the store to pick up her supplies. She got all of her fruit and picked up cranberry juice, orange juice, and more eggs. Once she got home she grabbed her jars and put all her fruits in and decided to do half each of the juices.
Since she had to let the fruit soak for at least a day so she wanted to email her mama and let her know that she may have figured it out. Once she emailed her Mama she made sure that she had everything else she needed to make the cake. Macy made a simple syrup to brush on the cake after it was done to keep it moist and then put it in the fridge for tomorrow.
Today was the day, Macy was going to make another fruitcake and she was positive that this time it was going to be perfect. She preheated the oven, mixed her batter, added the fruit, and then placed it in the oven. Once the cake was done she brushed it with the simple syrup and then put it in the cake box and in the fridge. Macy checked her email and saw her Mama had emailed her that she was home and would come by to see her. She decided that she was going to wait until her Mama got there to try the cake. When she arrived Macy was so excited she practically dragged her to the kitchen to try the cake. The first bite was heavenly and brought back so many memories, it tasted just like she remembered. She had done it finally after months and many tries, She had managed to recreate Cece’s Fruitcake and even take a trip down memory lane. Macy knew that even though Cece and Mamaw were no longer with them, they would always live on in their hearts and now in the fruitcake.
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2,982
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Write about someone’s first Halloween as a ghost.
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Honor of the Ghost
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Trigger warning: mention of suicide, death, and cutting.
I'm a lonely ghost. No one will play music with me, honor me by all my hard work, remember me, and worse of all, no one cared about me. You see, I was an outsider. I mean who would care about an outsider. An outsider that even the outsiders at my high school would let me in their groups. Back when I was alive, everyone would make fun of me. Call me names. Saying how bad and lame my life is. And how I should die by hanging myself or slice my neck. Just like how I would slice my wrist due to the bullying. Well, was. Now I see them smiling and laughing as if nothing ever happened. They don't care that I'm dead. It seems like no one even mentions me being dead. Not to mention my first Halloween dead as a ghost. I wish I never died from that stupid cancer. As I linger in the hallway, I couldn't help but see the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. She had long, beautiful, crows feathers, black hair. So long it's almost to the middle of her back. You can tell it's not box dyed. In fact, hah, it's not even dyed at all. All natural. Every guy want her. Every girl want to be her. She was that beautiful.
She was crying with her head down, eyes closed. Probability to hide her eyes so no one can see the tears flowing down from her face. I can tell she's been crying all day. Her eyes were puffy and probability red too. For some reason, I really wish I can wipe the tears away from her beautiful dark brown face and hug her as tight as I can. Even though I'll just go right through her. She raised her head, wiping the tears off of her face, then turned her head to see my direction. She has beautiful black, and when I mean black I mean like the crow's feathers black, eyes. She looked like she could see me. Like actually see me. The real me. Maybe even look right through me. She stepped closer and almost finish her question.
"Are yo-"
Then the schools not so pretty, both inside and out, bully who likes to hurt the girl. Mainly because she's a jealous, evil, little girl. Even though this is a high school, she still acts like a child.
"Hey, apple." A girl said as she was walking to the girl she's about to bully.
(Apple is a racist term for Native Americans. Red on the outside, white on the inside. Along with engines. )
The girl turned her head where the bully was coming to get her.
What is she going to do to her this time? The bully saw tears coming down her eyes.
The Native American girl walked away as fast as she can.
"Oh, no you don't." The mean girl said.
I know her. At least I KNEW her now. The girl had a black, obviously, boxed dyed hair, with heavy make up on. Like REALLY heavy make up on. I think she tried to look like the Native American girl but failed miserably.
"Hey, loser! I'm talking to you." She started raising her voice.
Then the bully grabbed the Native American girl by her shoulder and turned her around with an evil smile on her face as if she had something already planned for the Native American girl.
"Yo, leave her alone." One guy said who stopped walking to past by them in the hall.
"Yeah. She didn't do anything to you. Why are you always mean to her? What did she do to you?" Said another girl in disgust.
"Because this girl, this loser, keeps taking all the guys. She may look shy but really she is just trying to use you!" The bully raised her voice.
The bully saw everybody looking at her in disgust. Saying how ugly she is. Both her make up and her personality. so, basically both inside and out.
The bully's crush started to walk down the hall with his friends, when all of a sudden, one of his friends put his hand on the bully's chest and said.
"That freak is bullying the beautiful Native American girl again."
The man (The bully's crush.) was also beautiful. He has a short, red hair. But he's different than the other guys. His eyes are only for the Native American girl. Yes they are both beautiful, but the only difference between the Native American girl and him is that he has friends. Just like me, she doesn't.
"Okay. Here's my chance. Play it cool." The bully thought.
The bully put her shoulder fried, length hair in between her fingers as if she is trying to flirt. Well, she's about to. She walked up to him. She want to talk to him.
"Man. She needs to shave her head. Her hair is not suppose to look like that." Some people, mainly girls, gossiped.
You can tell that the man finally had enough. You can see the anger in his green eyes.
He looked around to see how to embarrassed the bully. Then a light bulb lite up on top of his head. The reason why I know this is because I can now see and hear people's mind. Well some. I don't care about them now, since no one cared about me. Only if it involves her. He saw the prom sign. And she's finally old enough to go. Even if she is going by herself.(Not that she'd ever do that. She is shy after all.) He went up to the poor bullied girl, who was crying from being called a mean, offensive name. He walked past the bully and the man asked.
"Hey. Will you go to the prom with me?"
The Native American girl looked around, shocked. Then she saw people's smile across their faces. All except the bully. She only had a pouting look on her face. You can even see tears starting to come down. Good.
"Yes."
The Native American girl answered. Everyone clapped for them. But not the bully of course.
The bully just went hemp and walked away.
The Native American girl turned her head and mouthed.
"Thank you, Jack. Thank you for supporting me the whole time. You were the only friend I had."
I just looked at her, smiling with tears coming down from my eyes.
"Happy Halloween, Jake. I miss you." The Native American girl said.
I feel happy now that I'm remembered. Remembered by my beautiful best friend. My little sister. Redbird.
"Happy Halloween, sis"
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8,395
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Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways.
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I Said I'd Go To The Ends of the Earth With You, But I Lied.
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My name is Amelia. When I was a kid, I told people that I'd been named for Amelia Earhart, a famous woman pilot, explorer, adventurer, and the bravest woman who had ever lived. I bragged that I would grow up to be just like her. There were only two problems with this story: 1) My parents had really named me after a rich, old, spinster aunt in the hopes she'd put them in her will, and 2) The First Amelia had flown off on a great adventure and was never heard from again. I was raised to believe that if I set my mind to something and worked hard, I could accomplish anything I wanted to do, and what I wanted to do was to go to SPACE. Like the First Amelia, I would go places no one else had ever gone, become a role model for young men and women, and would go down in history. My best friend, Jimmy, shared my dreams, so we charted out a Life PLAN that would take us to where we wanted to be....SPACE. We grew up in a small suburb outside of Chicago named Berwyn, IL. My great grandparents had moved there from Europe in the early 1900's, a married couple only seventeen years old, and were seeking the American Dream. They never went back to Europe, never saw their parents again, and never ventured more than 50 miles from Berwyn. They also never learned to speak English, as everyone in that town spoke Czech. My grandparents spoke broken English, its own language that only people who had grown up in Berwyn understood. My parents only knew how to swear in Czech, having spent time in an American school system. Since I was an American girl, I only spoke English, and was expected to make something of myself since I was the only reason my great grandparents had spent many miserable weeks throwing up in the bottom of an old and airless steamship coming to America so that I could make something of myself. It was a big responsibility, but I was up to it. Same with Jimmy - we were Golden. We'd go to Space. When we were little kids, we'd practice being astronauts. I'd put on Grandpa's big, black rain galoshes and pretend to moon walk on the top of the garage. Jimmy would put a big glass cookie jar on his head and pretend he was wearing a real astronaut's helmet. It was fun until I fell off of the garage roof and broke my arm, and the paramedics had to come and pry the cookie jar off of Jimmy's head. After that, we stuck to safer environments. We took as many high school science classes as we could, signed up for every "Future Astronauts" workshop at the Adler Planetarium, joined Scouts so we could learn survival skills and self reliance, attended summer programs at the Houston Space Center, and earned advanced degrees from NASA approved universities. We then did grunt work for many years - learning to clean and disinfect "space toilets", helping to prepare packets of disgusting looking food, and pretending to laugh at stale jokes about being attacked by space monsters and aliens. We grinned and bared it to prove we had the Right Stuff. The day Jimmy and I heard that we had been assigned to an actual Mission, we knew it had been all worth it. After all the time we had spent together, we assumed that we were in love and would spend the rest of our lives together, exploring SPACE. After one week in a claustrophobic tiny capsule, we could barely stand one another. We could only discuss what the mission could reveal, or stare into darkness for so long, or wonder how we had put up with each other for so long. Even complaining about the food and comparing it to bodily fluids wasn't funny anymore. I guess it was out of boredom that our minds began to wander and play tricks on us. We became slightly paranoid. We had been told that our mission was a Priority, A National Security Top Secret. We didn't know where we were going, what we'd be doing once we got there, or how long we'd be gone. Our brief was...brief. Now, with all this time on our hands, we begin to wonder, to question, what we were doing here. What had been exciting was now mindless, and I was searching to bring back the warm and comfortable friendship Jimmy and I had once shared. With that in mind, I decided to broach the subject. "Hey Jimmy, what do you think the purpose of this mission is? Shouldn't we be spending time preparing for whatever we're supposed to do once we get there? And where exactly is "THERE"? What's the big secret? When will we go home? If it's another three or four months, I'll have to start Christmas shopping. What do you want for Christmas, Jimmy?" "What I want is for this Mission to be over, and for you to shut the hell up." So much for the warm and comforting feelings I had hoped for. Hours passed. I'm not sure when or even if I heard it or felt it, but I was beginning to feel that we weren't along. I was still mad that Jimmy had been mean to me, but I needed to tell him what I was sensing. "Hey, Moron, did you hear that?" "This is Mission Control. We can hear everything you're saying. Show a little respect when speaking to one another." "Sorry." I turned to Jimmy and mouthed, "Hey, MAJOR moron, did you hear that?" "Yeah, but it was probably just our imaginations." "But I have the weirdest feeling that we are being watched. I think I can even hear something breathing." She began to sweat. Suddenly, Jimmy began to grin, smile, then laugh. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you starting to lose it." "Don't you get it? THIS is the Mission. This is the THERE you asked about. It's an experiment...we're an experiment. NASA is testing us to see how we'll react to fear, boredom, terror". "Those sons-a-bitches" She was feeling both anger and relief. She turned and looked at Jimmy, then turned her head slightly as the noise got closer. And then, like the First Amelia, she was never heard from again.
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6,054
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Write a story where one person is trying to say goodbye but keeps getting interrupted.
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I Won't Ever Stop You
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I sigh. Before I can lose my resolve too much, I speak up. “That was amazing, Cleaver, thanks a lot But now I think I’ll have to –“
“Hey! How could I forget!” Cleaver looks at me, eyes shining. “Come on, Helix! I gotta show you something!” Flapping his wings quickly, Cleaver takes off into the sky, oblivious as usual to the fact that I’m half-human, and just with my luck, didn’t have any pretty, colorful fairy wings.
I start running after him, sighing mentally: it’s Sunday already. My long weekend is coming to an end, and so is my time with my magical comrades. It was so calm and refreshing here. I don’t know why exactly, but I’d chosen that I was going to live in the human world instead of Deep Within The Forest, even though I enjoy every second spent with the various creatures, magical and non-magical, here.
I guess it’s because it’s too tame around here, where everyone knows each other, and everybody is incredibly friendly and helpful.
I guess I like the fact that, on the human side of the world, not many people know you, and very few care. You got to fight to make and keep your place there. There’s corruption, racism, abuse, drugs, criminals – and you? You’re just one of oceans of people. Fight or die out there.
It was hard, but it made you strong. And I liked it.
My family has made it clear to me that they think I have problems, and should seek help soon.
Cleaver leads me into a minute, unnoticeable clearing in th forest, trees overshadowing the tiny space. Sunlight filtered through the branches, making dappled patterns on the ground, and birds chirped cheerily overhead. Animals occasionally passed by, calling greetings, and butterflies flitted around the colorful wildflowers.
I instantly see what he wanted to show me.
“Why didn’t you show me before? God, these are so beautiful!”
I already knew that Cleaver was an extremely good artist, and made incredibly beautiful artwork.
What I hadn’t known, however, was that since the last time he’d shown me his work, he’d made a gallery worth of beautiful, realistic artwork. He was currently using the trunks of the trees surrounding the clearing to display them.
I walk over to the paintings. All of them were themed differently, mostly based on nature, a scattering of different styles here and there, and they were consistently beautiful. It almost felt as if the clouds and birds and trees branches in the canvases were moving in the wind.
“Oh well ... I didn’t exactly wanna brag, you know ...” He was grinning madly. “But I felt like I just HAD to show you before you...” His face darkened for a fleeting moment. “... went away for who knows how long. You like it?”
Before long, I’d dragged him and his paintings over to the Leader of our Lands – we don’t exactly give much attention to government and such – Frennel (we don’t do surnames either). Frennel was pleased to no end when he saw Cleaver’s paintings (he always was when he saw fresh talent), and instantly assigned him a post in Designing. His job was that whenever anything in town needed to be built or needed refurbishing, he would give ideas on its finished look. We don’t have offices – our community is too small for all that unnecessary hassle. Since we all know each other so closely already, we do everything informally. It works just fine here. Nothing challenging. Barely any competition. That’s why it’s just so much more interesting with humans. Back at home, a person would have to give a hundred interviews before they were finally selected for a job they might just be underpaid for, but have no choice but to take, since we all need to fill our tummies at the end of the day.
I also told Cleaver that if he ever wanted to put his paintings out into the human world, I would try my best to get him a place at an art gallery or something. In the meanwhile, Frennel wanted his paintings exhibited here.
All these developments made Cleaver extremely happy, and he was practically bouncing in excitement as we make our way out of town, standing just on the magical boundaries separating us from the part of the forest visible to humans.
I look at the sky sadly, realizing the sun was coming down, and I would have to take my leave soon.
I look at Cleaver, and had just opened my mouth, when Cleaver suddenly looks at me head-on, chocolate brown eyes shining brightly.
Without any warning at all, Cleaver wraps his arms under my armpits, then flaps his wings hard, launching us into the sky.
I feel the rush of air as I am lifted into the sky; stopping and hovering mid-air when we breached the tops of the tallest trees. An airplane is nothing compared to these occasions, when Cleaver decides to do me a favor and becomes my personal hot air balloon.
“Click a picture, quickly! I want to use this for a painting!” Oh. Well. I guess nothing in this world comes for free anymore. I will have to print the picture out later, since he obviously doesn’t have a phone. But I am not gonna deny him reference for a painting - not after I myself am the one encouraging him the most in this.
I whip my phone out of the pocket of my black jeans with chains dangling from the belt loops (I may or may not be a little emo) and click a picture of the horizon.
I gotta admit, it was really beautiful up here. Oranges, pinks, yellows and blues were splashed across the cloudless sky. The yellowish-orange orb of the sun had half disappeared below the horizon line, and birds outlined black against the fading light were all making a beeline to their homes. The branches of the trees in the forest danced, even with the light, easy breeze, and the river that separated the forest from the fields glinted in the distance, just in sight. Below, we could see the bustling of the beings living in the forest (that included everybody from the average bunny, to a 10-feet tall unicorn, it’s 3-feet long horn swirling with colors, clearly visible, even from up here. Unicorns are always just hogging around for attention, and are hardly of any use other than some fancy occasion. I personally don’t like them. Pegasi are better).
But I also had in mind that it was a Monday tomorrow. And every time Cleaver interrupted me while I tried to say goodbye to show me something interesting, my desire to go back diminished a little bit more.
“So?” Cleaver grins at me, clearly feeling excited after this little excursion, after we hit the ground. Fairies love to fly too, but it got exhausting, just like any other rigorous physical exercise, so they never did it enough to get tired of it. “That was sick as usual, Cleave, but I really need to go back now.” I say before he can interrupt me again, because I was slowly getting a feeling that he kept interrupting me on purpose, whenever I tried to give him my farewell, for whatever reason. Let’s see what he does now.
“Hm? What? What did you say?” I just stared at him, internally face palming at how obvious he was.
At this point Cleaver, too, realizes that his acting is pointless, so before I can say anything, he holds his hand up, sighing.
“Before you say anything, Helix – when do you think was the last time you visited us?" This was the tone that indicated a speech. Or lecture, however you wanted to look at it. "Your family and you friends here? Two months ago, Helix. Two months. We didn’t see you, didn’t hear from you, didn’t know what had become of you – you know we can’t even use tech-technologly to talk to you! You know how closely knit we are, right? Us magical folk? You cause us such worry, disappearing into the unknown, foreign human world, cutting off contact for weeks – months – on end. We love you, Helix, and we worry about you. And we grow anxious when we don’t hear from you. Couldn’t you at least send a willing owl or a pigeon with a letter for us, just so we know you’re okay?” Cleaver looked at me sadly, which made me feel pretty terrible. Whatever he said was true – after I got engaged with the humans, I barely thought about my family here in the woods.
“We would never want to stop you from doing your thing, Helix. We just care about you. We enjoy your company. I love spending time with you. More than I do with anyone. I – we – just wish that you’d be with us more, you know. Talk to us, have fun with us, spend more time with us. Why, I would happily learn how to use a mo-bill phone to be able to communicate with you more.” He smiled warmly.
He rested his hand on my shoulder. “We know that, for you, at least, it is more exciting out there. We all understand that you have dreams. But I just-“ He shook his head. “I’m bad at this. Just ... will you stay? Only for a week, until next Sunday? Then you can go on your way! Just one week more?” I realize that this isn’t just about me staying for one more week. My answer to this will actually be an indicator of my willingness to be with them, to spend time with them. And knowing the fairy folk, if they got even the slightest indication that I didn’t want to be with them, then they’d stop ‘imposing’ on me.
“Cleaver, you didn’t have to work so hard to get me to stay here, you know? Y’all are much more important to me than my job, than the humans, than my own life, than anything else, any day. And how did you think that grass-headed plan of yours, of trying to distract me whenever I tried to say goodbye, was gonna help anyway?”
Cleaver just smiled sheepishly, looking down at the ground. "Maybe I just wanted to try out my acting skills." God, was I going to be able to get this sweetness anywhere else? I was being dead serious when I said that these people mattered to me more than my own life. I would never let go of them for anything, not for the latest iPhone model, no.
I smile, pulling him into a hug warmly. Because I love him as well. Because I care for him too. Because I know I can speak a hundred things this way, without having to speak a single word. Just because I felt like I needed to.
He hugged me back warmly, clutching onto me like he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. Now this was some foreshadowing. “We don’t want to stop you from pursuing your dreams, alright? We just want you to adjust time for everything in your life - including us. I just wanted to spend more time with you.”
“And all you had to do was ask.”
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9,004
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Write about a “found family” who are finally able to get together again after a long time apart.
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I am Found
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I've never seen the light of day. I'm not sure what the birds sing about. I don't know what the smell of oak trees are. The feeling of soft moss growing on the tall pine trees. The taste of wild berries. I have never seen the planet known as the Earth. I was born in a spaceship, a whole civilization of people who, too, have never been to or seen the lifeless planet. Since that day...
I'm only 16 years of age. Now, I do have a family, however, the ship segregates each member by age.
Little babies (newborn-2 years)
Children (3 years-12 years)
Teenagers (13-19 years)
Adults (20+)
I've never met my mom, nor dad. If I even have any... I never met anyone that is related to me. It's hard.. I don't know anyone here. I feel, alone.
I've been following the rules for years. Not one time have I been in trouble by the Galactic Guardians. They are scary when it comes to rule following.. If you do anything that is even in the slightest of wrong, you'll get your ass in an escape pod and go back to Earth...
We were never told what exactly happened. They just told us that Earth is a dreadful place. So much dangerous creatures. Horrid water serpents lurking beneath the waters. Their exact words, "the perfect punishment"
I've never seen one person come back to the HQ who was told to be sent there.
That was my life...
One day changed it all... All I did was accidentally push some girl down. I just needed to use the bathroom. Next thing you know, I'm in the dreadful pod... I was tossed in by the guards.. I never thought I'd get here... I wish I could go back in time and just avoided this... So I thought..
That ride to the abandoned planet was only an hour away (by ship) but it felt like I were there for ages. There's no opening to see the glistening stars in the sky. I feel like I'm trapped. What did I do to deserve this?
I feel the pod shaking, at first like a nice little shimmy dance performed by the pod. I got a little nervous. I didn't really start getting extreme panic until I felt the pod going faster and faster approaching the ground as the moment felt like it was in slow motion. I braced for impact. I may not see the ground, all I need to know is that this was it... I'm never going to see the bright stars again...
It went black, it was silent. I opened my eyes ever so slowly. I just froze.. Should I open the doors? Should I stay.... Should I-
TTSSSSSSSSSS
All four of the walls bloom open like a graceful rose. I thought I would die right then and there.. To my surprise, I was surrounded by humans... They surrounded the shuttle, staring at me in awe.
I just stared at them back..
They all looked so.. Happy?
It's so roomy, and lively.. It was beautiful..
"where are we?" I asked
"why, you're on Planet Earth" a survivor says with a smile
I sat there, confused
It was nothing like what the Galactic Guardians explained at all. They said it would be nothing but a monstrosity. No life, No clean air, no plants or food... Nothing but a lifeless planet.
One thing I have noticed at this moment... On this planet, we aren't alone, the people who just told us the harsh fantasy, came to be the beautiful reality. It may not always be that way, but it was a beginning, my beginning of my new life.
I broke down, I cried until I couldn't anymore, I was just so relieved.
This couple pushed through the crowd of people to see the newest member of the family. They seemed to be the leaders.. They looked like me...
They give me a look that I will never forget, hope.
They looked at each other in shock and I could just feel the happiness radiate off of them.
They just ran up to be and hugged me... I didn't know who they were, I was tense. They called me a weird name, I was confused, what are these crazy people talking about?
They shown me pictures of a baby, a woman holding the baby was the lady who walked up to me. Next to her in the picture was a man, that was next to the same lady. They both were in the picture.. I didn't trust them.. until i saw the baby... I was me.. It looked exactly like me...I couldn't believe it it was my family! I never thought I would meet them. They were sent to this Planet because of me. They've never felt more thankful that i came into this universe. They've lived her for 16 years...all because of me.
That day on I never felt better. I wasted my life on a ship that just was fearful to what happened and if it will happen again. I still don't know what happened, but I'm damn sure that this was my life, and I am never going back to that stupid ship.
One thing I'll never forget is that I don't have to live in fear anymore. The little mistakes that happen there, is shipped down to paradise. And if this is a punishment... This is truly the perfect punishment.
I just wish that the citizens that lived in that hell hole knew how wonderful this place really is.
All of my life, I've been living in fear because of the theories on the Planet. I may have lived my life feeling hopeless, but I have found myself here. Now I can say that I've seen the light of day. The bird's beautiful song. I know what the oak trees smell like. The touch of the soft moss growing on the pine tree's bark. And the taste of sweet, sweet wild berries.
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2,708
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Write a story about a valuable object that goes missing.
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I'll Trade You!
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I might as well start off telling you, I lost my eye in an unfortunate fork accident. When I was a kid, I use to flip my fork off the table by putting it on the edge of the table, and SLAMMING my palm on the end of it. If I had a quarter for everytime my Mother told me to stop, my first fake eye could have been glass! She never lets me forget that incident either. It's kinda her "go to" when I don't listen, even at my age. I'm older now, how much smarter remains to be seen.Coming in from the bar one night I stumbled up the porch steps, and stood for a moment. I opened the door, and collapsed in a chair. I was half drunk this night, sweating in that chair with the window open, letting in every drop of humidity there was. Not enough sense to close the windows, and turn on the air. I sat there dripping , sinking into my own sweat in the old chair. My fake eye started to itch. I began to rub my eye but it didn't help, it just made it itch more! So here I sit drunk, with an itchy eye. What should I do? Oh I Know! So, I popped it out, and laid it on the table. Now, I know I should have taken it off, and put it in saline. That's where it belonged. But you know how it is when you've been drinking. Believe me, I wish I had. About that time, a crow had landed on the window sill, and was eyeing me. He just sat there looking. Staring. I thought about closing the window. Drunk, that thought floated away. A second of clarity, I see the Crow again!"What are you looking at, I yell, as I reach down and toss a shoe at the damn thing. He keeps eyeing me. Turning his head from side to side, kinda sizing me up. He doesn't move. He just stares. Straight into my soul, searching for a bit to pull off. His eyes look like black holes boring into mine. The hair on my neck stands up, as I click the tab off another beer. I lazily drink that beer down, not taking my my eye of that Crow. He never took his eye off me. But he kept grinning. Like he knew a secret! The beer was warm, and I was tired. I stared at the crow some more til sleep over came my half drunken ass.I fell asleep in the chair with that bird eyeing me. It was the last thing I remember seeing. But I dreamed of that Crow. He was still in the window. Still laughing. Still grinning. I tossed, and turned. It was a very restless sleep.Grampa! Time to get up! Oh Lord... I'm still in that chair. My vision is half gone. Oh man.I look around for my eye. All I see are beer cans. Oh shit. I have to shake each can just to make sure. I don't think I would have put it there, but hey! I had to look. Nope! Just a tab in each can. I look down on the floor, I get on my hands and knees. Nope.Now I'm getting a bit anxious! I see the open window! And I remember the Crow! OMG!! I'm sure the damn bird has my glass eye. He's no longer there! Where is he!? I run to the window, and I see him. He's mocking me! He has a beady eye turned on me, and he's grinning an evil bird grin! Oh shit.What am I going to tell my wife?! I look at that Crow. I curse that crow. I thought unkind things about that Crow. I cursed him some more. Then I cursed him again. Then I turned my back on the hungry thief. I cursed him once more.So with no other option, I dug around in the drawer, and found the first plastic prosthetic eye I had made, and popped it in. I stood at the mirror, it was glaringly obvious! That DAMN bird I mutter as I walk away. I went down to breakfast. No one noticed! That kinda irritated me. Do you people even see me? Am I that old, that you just look through me now?!All right! So far so good. I was still angry at that damn Crow. Sneaky bird!! I was thinking of ways to repay my feathered friend all thru breakfast, as I crunched that bacon, I was thinking of that bird! Still a little angry at them for not noticing, I thought about them as I crunched my toast quiet loud!Later that afternoon my grandson wanted to play, and I agreed. He brought a box and opened it. There, amongst several marbles was my eye!! My beautiful glass eye! Hey! "That's mine" I said. Grampa you said we could trade! Wait. What? Yes! I asked you last night If we could make a trade, and you said yes!! I put two green cat eyes on your dresser!!OMG!The bird was mocking me because he saw me drunk, trading off my eye for two marbles!! And he laughed! That damn bird laughed.I had to get my eye back. My grandson was rolling it in his fingers. It was a beauty! A luscious shade of dark green. He didn't take his eyes off it. It was a fair trade! He wanted to keep it. It was the only one like it he had ever seen. It was his! Fair, and square! He gave his best two marbles for it! What did I have to trade a five year old? Just how much will it cost? He looked at me with deep blue eyes, searching my face for signs it was okay, that he could keep it. But I needed it. So I made the deal.It cost me a trip to Disney! But I got my eye.That bird? He still comes to the window to mock me. I feel he's justified.
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1,074
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Write a story that spans exactly a year and takes place in a single room.
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If The Fates Were Kind
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28th of January 2020 Time never makes haste when one wishes it to. It has a nasty habit of dragging on interminably, filling those who wait for something with impatience and in tragic cases, with hopelessness. There is nothing anyone can do to alter its relentless course. Praying, begging and stressing over it will gain you nothing, for time is its own master. So, the only option left is to distract yourself, with mind-numbing games and fruitless hobbies, from the ongoing chase between the past and the future. He paused his train of thought and resumed counting the cracks in the ceiling; fifty six, fifty seven, fifty nine... blast it, were was he again? Never mind, he will just have to start over again. Or maybe, for some diversity, he could try to take stock of all the moldy spots and gross, brownish stains in the corners of the room. Not like there is much else to do in prison. Joseph has only been here for three hours, and he was already starting to go crazy form being cooped up in this dingy, little cell. He was now truly regretting voting against all governmental attempts at improving the incarceration conditions. Damn it, the meals could have been better and with more variety. The prison blocks could have housed fewer inmates in each room. I could have suffered here without some crackhead, who will definitely slash my throat at night, sleeping 2 meters away! Why, God, must you punish me for thinking the poor are greedy? They usually are! Sure, they were right this time, but asking for the minimum wage to be increased and to stop defunding public schools? If they have limited money they should just invest like the rest of us, and if the other issue bothers them, then why don’t they just send their kids to a private school? Lazy wretches, all of them. After venting his indignation over the audacity of the lower classes, Joseph took a moment to assess his surroundings before they were defiled by his new roommate. The cell is horrifically small, with barely 6,5 m2 of total space available, and has a perpetual smell of wet rags and urine. The walls are chipped and scratched in various places; initially a cold white, the years, humidity and likely other prisoners, have rendered them a pale yellow with some generous spattering of brown specks on one side. Joseph shudders to think of what that might be. Looking upwards, the ceiling is peeling at the edges and has many crevices spread throughout the entire surface. On the far side of the room is placed a row of thick, dirty bars, beyond which lays a brightly lit hallway, framed by dozens of cells on either side. Back inside the room, a rusty metal bunk bed, that was painted a dull grey, is crammed next to the wall on the right. Atop of the permanently squeaking frame lie two thin, lumpy mattresses covered in some unclean and itchy sheets, with two threadbare blankets haphazardly folded at the foot of each cot. Right next to the bed is a metal toilet that surprisingly, seemed to have been given a good wash before he was brought it. Even so, he doesn’t believe he will ever be able to sleep in such close proximity with the smells that will inevitably come out of it. Joseph sighed deeply and closed his eyes, trying to think of better days. He immediately snapped out of his reverie when the door opened with a loud groan. A tall man stepped inside, causing the accompanying guards to promptly lock the cell in his wake and leave without a word. Still seated on the bottom bunk bed, Joseph just stared at the newcomer, waiting for him to make the first move. The prisoner is easily 1.90 m tall with an obvious, even through the grey jumpsuit, fit physique. Short, shiny black hair hangs around an oval face adorned with high cheekbones, a small, slightly crooked nose and a pair of nicely shaped lips. His eyes are slanted and dark brown in colour. Joseph would judge him to be in his late twenties or early thirties, close to his own age if perhaps, a few years younger. He is definitely handsome...If you’re into that sort of thing, of course. The stranger nodded in his direction and let out a casual “Sup?”. Then, he startled Joseph by heading towards him at a fast, determined pace, prompting him jump up and tense in preparation for a fight. Fortunately, his roommate just hoisted himself up on the top bed and lied down. Feeling utterly stupid for his overreaction, he decided to try and befriend the person he will be stuck with for at least the next few months.“Hi, I’m Joseph Barnley. It’s nice to meet you!” smiling, he extended a hand toward the other. The prisoner grasped it firmly for a moment and then let go.“Baek.” was all the answer he received. Not one to be so easily dissuaded, he persisted.“Where are you from, Baek? I grew up in a small town in Indiana, but I’ve been living in DC for the past 10 years.” He paused and scrutinized the man’s impassive expression, before barreling on. “I have some family here, you see”.“Detroit”. These one-word replies were really starting to get on his nerves. Plastering on an increasingly strained grin, Joseph figured it would be a good idea to attempt to bond with the guy through a shared experience.“That’s where you settled, after you came over from China?”. It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Baek jumped down from his bed, grabbed a fistful of Joseph’s jumpsuit and slammed him roughly against the wall. The deep scowl on his brow combined with the savage snarl on his lips made him look positively thunderous when he leaned in to shout in his face “Who said anything about China, white trash? I was born and raised here. You got a problem with that, bitch?”.The inmates from the nearby cells started to holler encouragements and challenges, clearly hoping to get the pleasure of watching them brawl like animals. Joseph was scrambling to think of some way to smooth things over that didn’t include him getting the beating of his life. He may have gotten in a few skirmishes in college, but he had no chance of triumphing in a prison fight. He will apologize. Who knows, maybe Baek is a reasonable person and will see that this is only an unfortunate misunderstanding. “I’m sorry. I was out of line to assume things based on your appearance. It won’t happen again.” Joseph prayed he sounded calm and sincere, even though he could feel himself trembling with fear. The man gave him a nasty glare and threw him back down unceremoniously. Afterwards, he stepped away and climbed back onto his bed. Seeing that the danger has abated, Joseph breathed out a sigh of relief and, ignoring the prisoners who were making a racket outside in disappointment at being deprived of a show, he resolved to get some rest. 19th of March 2020 After that disastrous first meeting, he and Baek avoided each other as much as possible while enclosed in such close quarters, with that in mind, Joseph opted to remain in the cell instead of enjoying his allotted outside time for the day. He was mulling over what to tell his wife the next time he got to use the phone, when he overheard a conversation between two guards.“You heard about them locking down most of Europe? This Corona trash is spreading like wildfire.”“Aye. In Italy the police keep the people from even leaving their houses. It’s terrible. This is a hoax meant to help the government make slaves of us, if I’ve ever heard one.”“Right there with you, John.” Joseph, having been a politician before he was arrested for corruption, knew this to be false. However, it’s true that had this happened just 7 months sooner, he would have used the national state of emergency to ensure that he remained free. Joseph could feel desperation encompass him at the cruelty of his fate. Damn it all, couldn’t this accursed plague have hurried up a little? I could have had it all! And now I’m sentenced to rot in this hellhole. Slapping his palms repeatedly against the nearest wall, Joseph can feel frustrated tears stinging at his eyes, but refuses to let them fall. 5th of April 2020 He should have expected this. His mother had always warned him that Rachel’s love did not seem genuine and that if he ever lost his grip on power, she would be the first to leave. Still, Joseph never believed she would be heartless enough to ask for a divorce now, when he needs her the most. Maybe she will change her mind. After all, with the pandemic raging on, it will be very difficult for her to manage to arrange all the lawyer accompanied discussions of settlements, splitting of assets and potential alimony for her. Yes, he is quite confident that she will come running back to him in no time. And he will magnanimously forgive her. 23th of April 2020 Joseph was wrong. Rachel was indeed serious about serving him the divorce papers. He doesn’t want to end the marriage, they had been so happy together in the beginning. Surely they can work this out somehow? Alas, she is adamant their relationship has been on the rocks for a good while, and that he being incarcerated was merely the final nail in the coffin. What if he refuses to sign, or if he remains uncooperative every step of the way? They can’t force him to go along with this! Sadly, he really does love his wife and if this is what she wants, well, he can’t bring himself to stand in her way. So, with a heavy heart, he completed all the necessary forms and gave them to the people responsible to have them mailed out. After it was done, he collapsed on his cot and started crying his heart out, Joseph pressed his face into the mattress and dragged the blanket over his head in order to muffle the sounds of his weeping. The last thing he needed was for the other inmates to catch a whiff of his weakness and gang up on him. Sure, it would be slightly harder than normal, given that they are pretty much isolated to their rooms due to Covid restrictions, but he still shares outside breaks and shower time with some of them. He must have been doing a pretty bad job of keeping quiet though, because he could hear Baek come down from the top bed. Great! Truly marvelous, now I’m going to get my ribs kicked in for disturbing his afternoon nap. I hate it here.“Why you crying, man?” the voice didn’t exactly sound hostile, but Joseph was not so easily fooled. “Hey. Joseph, right? Listen, did the guys like...” he hesitated for a second and then continued in a lowered tone “Did they like... hurt you or something? It sucks, but crap like that happens a lot in here. If so, you gotta go get checked out dude, you can’t-“.“No! God no, nothing like that. It’s just...”. He is man enough to admit that he finds himself famished for comfort, that he very much wants to talk about his problems with someone. Not so much with Baek, who can’t stand him, nevertheless he’s the only option. This is so stupid. He’s going to mock me so bad.“My wife dumped me over going to jail, my career is ruined and I’ll probably lose all of my money in the divorce. Also, none of my friends bothered to check in on me since I got here.” Joseph stopped his rambling when he remembered his roommate didn’t care about his troubles. He considered looking up at Baek, to see if he was about to blow up on him again, but he decided he doesn’t really want to know. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’ll shut up, let you get some rest”. When the prisoner remained silent, he dared a glance in his direction. To his surprise, Baek simply appeared to be confused and weirdly relieved.“That’s... good. I mean, not you getting the boot from your girl, just... that it wasn’t worse”. He awkwardly hovered next to Joseph’s bed for a few moments, before quietly climbing back to his own without another word. 1st of July 2020 Joseph had his first court appearance for the divorce at the end of May, when the restrictions were more relaxed. Everything was amicable, so they are just awaiting the official approval for the dissolution of the marriage. He still wasn’t fine with how his life turned out; alas there was not much he could do about it, at least not now. On a brighter note, he and Baek became significantly more civil and social with each other following their little heart-to-heart. Joseph wouldn’t go as far as to call them friends, but they are somewhat closer than mere acquaintances. His cellmate even started to answer to him in fully formed sentences, in fact, he is reasonably sure he actually saw Baek smile one time at something he said. Finally, a positive development! 10th of October 2020 The Covid situation at the prison got worse lately, a bunch of prisoners got the virus and a whole block of cells had to be quarantined. They are, once again, isolated in their own rooms with individually designated times for eating, exercising and showering, in order to avoid having more people contract the disease. During the lockdown, Joseph learned that Baek’s first name is Suk, but that he refuses to answer to it around English speakers due to the “infantile jokes of insipid white men”. Also, he found out why he wound up in jail. That particular conversation played out like this:“So, what did you do before this? Where did you work?”“I was an independent business owner, who the government found an issue with because I was milking that hussle instead of being a corporate drone.” Baek said earnestly.“It was drugs, wasn’t it?”. “Yeah, it was drugs.” The man shrugged unashamedly and countered “What did you work as?”.“Eh... I was a lawyer for... a really big firm?” he finished unsteadily. Joseph didn’t want to admit to having worked in politics, even though he wasn’t a well known figure “Money laundering and all that, you know?”. His roommate laughed out loud at that “Great deal of good that fancy law school did you, Joe”. He outwardly smiled at the teasing, but on the inside, he was cringing in guilt from the lie. 28th of January 2021 Baek hasn’t spoken to him at all today. He just lied on his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling for hours. Normally, Joseph tried to refrain from asking emotionally loaded questions, mostly because his friend had an unfortunate tendency to lash out when he did, but something was clearly wrong and he couldn’t just ignore it. So, he crossed the one boundary he never dared to before: he climbed up to the top bed and sat down next to him, on the edge of the mattress. “Suk? I don’t mean to pry, but are you ok? You seem a little... off, I guess?” he carefully watched him, waiting for a denial or perhaps a hint of aggression. None came. Baek just stood there unresponsive for a few minutes, and then, out of nowhere, said “Alex is dead. He was in the Corona block and got sick. The damned pigs didn’t even take him to a hospital”. The grief was audibly causing him to choke on his words “They just let him die, man. Who does that to a person?”. His voice broke so painfully at the end that Joseph couldn’t stop himself from reaching over and giving him an uncomfortable hug. Baek froze for a second, but then he pulled him closer, hiding his face in the other’s shoulder.“I’m sorry Suk. The guards here really don’t care about the wellbeing of people like us. It’s not fair that they keep getting away with it”, his friend was nodding along at his words.“And those greedy bastards in the government, lining their pockets with cash and letting the poor rot in the gutter. Scum, all of them”. Joseph didn’t answer, just held him in silence for a while. After Baek seemed to stop being on the verge of tears, he returned to his own bed with an empty feeling in his chest. Those greedy bastards in the government, it was all their fault. My fault.
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9,173
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Write a story about an average day turned upside down by an unexpected visitor.
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Impossible is Only a Matter of Perspective
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It was impossible, that’s what I would’ve said if anyone had asked me about it. I would’ve told them in no uncertain terms that conversing with the dead was simply not possible. But then it happened. The impossible happened and as it turned out it wasn’t so impossible after all.The morning began ordinarily enough. I was awoken by the unwelcome and unmistakable sound of my alarm clock. I pressed the snooze button and briefly considered unplugging the thing. As tempting as the idea was I discarded it, knowing that if I did my mother would only come wake me moments later, and be nun to happy about having to do so.With a resigned sigh I rolled out of bed and started getting ready for the day. If I had been a more pragmatic person I might have had my clothes laid out on a nearby chair and my lunch already packed and waiting for me downstairs. As it was I spent the next 20 minutes racing around my room trying with varying degrees of success to find first my car keys, then my homework, and finally and most elusively of all, a matching pair of socks. This last was made all the more complicated by Rosie, my three year old Rottweiler. She apparently thought it was great fun to snatch each sock as I discarded them in an attempt to find the pair I was looking for, and race around my room hiding them in a variety of places. These included but were not limatted to my closet, under my bed, and somehow she even managed to get one behind my dresser.I just made the executive decision to worry about putting my socks back in their proper place later, when my mother shout it from downstairs,“Amy, if you don’t hurry up you’re gonna be late for classes. “ One of the most enjoyable things about going away to college, or so I’d been told, was not having your parents around to nag you about things like being late for school. One of the most frustrating things about staying home for college, was that the dynamic between my mother and I really hadn’t changed. She still nagged me about everything from being on time to class, to doing my homework, to how much money I was spending on clothes. Glancing around my room to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything I called back, “I’m coming.“ When I reached the kitchen I found a plate of eggs and toast waiting for me along with a glass of orange juice. I guess there were some advantages to living at home after all. 15 minutes later I was driving down the quiet streets of my suburban town. I considered the day ahead. I had a math test for my calculus class which I was in no way looking forward to. Then there was the research paper proposal I kept putting off for my psychology class and...Something raced out onto the road in front of me, totally derailing my train of thought and nearly running right into my car. I gasped in alarm and yanked the wheel frantically to the right trying not to hit whatever it was. It looked too small to be a deer but too large to be a dog.The creature was a fox. I registered this only vaguely as all my attention was focused on keeping the car, which was skidding as a result of my abrupt turn, from crashing into one of the many trees wich lined the road on either side.Careening to a stop mear inches away from one of the elms which gave the street its name, I hurriedly shifted into park and grabbed my phone from where it was resting on top of the consul. I didn’t think I had hit the animal, but I should notify the park and wildlife service about the Fox’s presents here regardless. Precautions should be taken to make sure that wild animals like this one wouldn’t be able to wander onto residential streets and put themselves in harms way.Apparently we had more varieties of park and wildlife organizations than I realizeD because I was still skimming through search results as I opened the car door. The moment I did the smell hit me. It was overpowering and unmistakable, sharp with a salty tang. Blood.Oh no, I must have hit the animal after all. I doubted there was anything I could do to help the poor creature, but I figured I could at least look to see The extent of the fox‘s injuries. Closing the car door behind me and pocketing my phone I made my way slowly around the front of the car. The last thing I wanted to do was startle the injured animal and cause it to react aggressively.The fox’s coat was covered in blood, so much blood that it was impossible for me to tell where one wound ended and another began. What I could make out was that there were several long, deep looking gashes along the animal’s body. Gashes which, I was certain, could not have been made by the impact of my car. For one thing, if I had hit the animal with enough force to leave those kind of injuries I would’ve certainly felt it, and for another the formation of the wounds simply did not match those which could have been inflicted by a vehicle. Their contours were not that of tire tracks, nor were they the marks that would’ve been made by coming into contact with my car’s grill. Instead, their were these jagged looking slashes witch crisscrossed the Fox’s coat in bloody stripes. They looked almost like...The fox’s eyes opened and my train of thought was scattered like birds fleeing before an approaching storm. The animal‘s irises were the brightest most vivid shade of green I had ever seen. The fox’s gaze met mine and I found myself utterly transfixed, completely unable to look away. There was something about the fox’s eyes, more than just the intensity of their color. There was an emotion there, pain and fear, that made sense given the circumstances, but there was also something else, something I couldn’t decipher. I could see the emotion as plainly as the pages of a book, and yet it’s meaning was as incomprehensible as words written in an unfamiliar language.I took a step closer to the animal, and then another and another. There was a voice in the back of my mind telling me that approaching a wild animal like this, especially one who was injured, was probably not a very wise idea. But I ignored it, captivated as I was by the fox’s strange gaze.Desperation I realized, that was the look in the fox’s eyes. But not desperation born of fear of the human nearing it, nor out of pain from its injuries. This was a different kind of desperation. I couldn’t have said how I knew this, but I did. I knew it with the same unequivocal certainty that I knew my own name. The fox’s gaze held a kind of desperation that was unmistakably human. It was the kind of desperation born of knowing, be on the shadow of a doubt, that you were in a situation from which there was no chance of escaping.I acted without thought or hesitation. I reached out a hand and rrested my fingers gently on the Fox’s head. The moment my skin came into contact with the fox a jolt went through me, like a small electric shock. With a yelp born more of surprise then pain I drew my hand away and took a hasty step back. The fox‘s body began to tremble. What was happening? Could animals go into shock like humans? I pulled my phone from my pocket and franticly resumed my search for the parks and wildlife number.I hadn’t gotten very far when the shakes that had been racking the fox body stopped, as suddenly as they had begun. Relieved I gazed at the animal trying to tell if it’s injuries appeared any worse. And that was when The impossible happen. It was the first impossible thing I experienced that day, although not the last. One minute I was standing beside an injured fox, and the next, the animal was gone. The fox vanished as suddenly and silently as falling snow, and in its place, in the exact spot where the injured animal had lane, a boy appeared.I screamed. Stumbling back so quickly that I tripped over my own feet and felt painfully onto the asphalt. Through my haze of shock and disbelief I noticed that the boy had the same bloody gashes across his skin that the fox had had a long its fir. “It’s impossible,“ I spoke the words out loud hoping that doing so would convince me of their validity. “It’s not possible.“The boy started slightly at the sound of my voice as though he had been unaware of my presents until that exact moment. He turned his head toward me and I saw that his eyes were the same piercing green as the foxe‘s. He opened his moutH and I was almost surprised when words came out, half expecting to hear animal growls.“I make it a habit,“ he said in an accent I didn’t recognize, “to accomplish 10 impossible things before breakfast.“I laughed. It sounded hysterical even in my own ears. The boys lips twitched as if he was fighting against a smile. His efforts were only partially successful and one corner of his mouth turned up slightly.“What... I stammered barely able to finish the question “what are you?“This time the boy made no attempt to suppress his smile. He let it spread unchecked across his face and there was such unabashed joy in the expression that it’s stole my breath. “Wouldn’t you like to know,“ he said clearly relishing my Curiosity and equally the fact that he had no intention of indulging it.I opened my mouth, to say what exactly I didn’t know, but before I had a chance to speak the boy began to shake. Just as the fox had done a few moments before he started to tremble, slightly at first but then with ever increasing intensity. He clenched his teeth together and I got the sense that it was all he could do to hold in a scream. I half expected him to turn into a fox again, but instead of forming into something else, his body simply went still. Too still, I realized in alarm I couldn’t see his chest rising and falling. I jumped to my feet and hurried over to him. Dropping to my knees, I put my hand on his wrist to feel for a pulse. There was nothing, not even the slightest flutter. “Oh my God, oh my God.“ Their had to be something, I must just be missing it. I leend forward and put my ear to his chest listening desperately for even the faintest trace of a heartbeat. But there was still nothing, not so much as an echo of sound. He was dead. The boy was dead and I had nearly hit him with my car, well no, I had almost hit a fox but then he had turned into a boy and... I could just hear myself trying to explain this to the cops. What was I going to do? A boy was dead, and no matter what he’d been before he was a boy now, he was a dead boy, and and...My frantic tangle of disjointed thoughts were brought abruptly to a halt as the boy’s body disappeared from beneath me as silently and suddenly as the fox had vanished moments before. I leapt to my feet staring down at the spot on the pavement where the boys body had been. I counted the seconds, then the minutes as they passed. I waited for the boy to reappear, or the fox to materialize. I waited for something, anything to happen which would mean that the boy was alive in some form or another.I waited, and waited, and eventually I gave up. Nothing happened, no creature materialized fox, human, or otherwise. That night I lay awake in bed, unable to sleep and consumed by the day’s impossible events. I kept turning everything that happened over in my mind, trying to make sense of it. But my efforts did nothing, I gained no clarity, no logic, and no idea what to do. There seemed no point in calling the cops, or the wildlife service. After all, there was no dead boy, no dead fox, there was nothing to indicate that what I had seen had ever taken place, nothing except my own memories of the inexplicable events.My thoughts were interrupted by a sound. I’d been hearing it for a while I realized belatedly, but was only now becoming consciously aware of it. I glanced around my darken bedroom trying to pinpoint its source. Tap tap tap, there it was again. It was coming from my window.Perplexed, I rose from my bed and crossed the room, pulling back my curtains to peer through the glass at the night beyond. There was a boy standing on the roof just outside my window. And not just any boy, a boy with peercing green eyes. It was the boy from that afternoon, the boy who had been a fox, the boy who I had watched die.I had never seen a ghost. But like they say, there is a first time for everything.
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10,017
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Write a romance that involves one partner saving the other from a fire.
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In a snap of fingers
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“Work! Work! Work!’’ I screamed at him as I was so done with his behavior.‘’Well, what do you want me to do, huh?’’ he shouts and rubs his face with his right hand.‘’I just want you to spend time with me’’ I whisper, as a drop of tear falls from eyes.‘’and who do you think will earn?’’ he asks in black expression stepping closer to me. I could smell the alcohol in his breath.‘’you used to earn before as well! We used to spend so much time together, ‘’ I shouted, ‘’what changed?” I whispered the last part as tears were continuously rolling down my eyes.‘’Oh shut it! Do you know how much work I have? Oh, how will you? You just spend all your time at home, doing god knows what!’’ he spats, keeping me frozen in my place.The man standing in front was not my husband, anymore. He was a wild raging beast. I had noticed for the last 3 months he has been avoiding me. Coming home late and going to the office before I woke up. Today on our anniversary he was going to repeat the same thing if I hadn’t woken up before he left, again.‘’ don’t you dare speak to me like that! You are the one asking me to quit my job! You are the one asking me to stay at home and raise our kids!’’ I shouted‘’Right, kids.’’ He lets out a humorous laugh, ‘’where are they?’’ He asks venomously,‘’You are so worthless, so worthless that you can’t even give me a child!’’ he shouts making my heart sink. I take steps backward and fall on the floor, my whole world crumbling into pieces. This is the reason. This is the reason. I kept on repeating the sentence in my mind, it’s because I cannot give him a child, I am infertile, but the doctor said there’s a still chance if we keep on trying then maybe one day I was going to hold my baby in my hands. He said he doesn’t care, he said it gives him more opportunities to make more love to me. But those were all lies, I should have known.As if understanding what he said he started taking steps towards me,‘’Babe’’ he says trying to hold my hands.‘’ don’t’’ I say and move away from his hands‘’babe please listen to me! You know I didn’t mean it’’ he pleads, trying to touch my cheek but I slap his hands.‘’We are over’’ I state staring directly into his eyes, the grey ones, the ones that I loved with my whole world.‘’What!’’ he whispers as a drop of tear falls from his eyes.‘’We are over’’ I whisper more to myself.‘’no babe! Come on, I am so sorry!’’ he shouts and pleads as I walk towards our bedroom to pack my stuff.‘’I will send the divorce papers next week’’ I say packing my stuff, trying my hardest not to break down.‘’What! You are doing nothing like that!’’ he shouts and unpacks my stuff‘’I am and I will’’ I reply sternly as I book a cab online.‘’please babe’’ he whispers and pleads,‘’it’s for the best, we are toxic, you will find someone better who can give you a child and keep you happy’’ my heart shatters while saying those words, but I know it had to be done, he deserves to be a father and If I can’t give him that, someone will have too, even if that means I don’t get to stay in his life anymore. It’s for his happiness.‘’And I will find someone else,’’ I continue,‘’you will find someone else?’’ he growls, clenching his jaws and grabbing my arms, ‘’you are mine! And, only mine!’’ he growls bringing me closer and hugging me tightly.‘’Please stop’’ he whispers as I feel his tears falling on my back. I hug him tighter, not wanting to let go, but I had to, it was for him.The ring of my phone brings us out of our trance, I answer it knowing it was the cab I booked online. Adam smiles looking down at me, thinking I had changed my mind. If I was the girl I was 3 months ago I would have but I changed into a better and stronger version of myself.I pick my duffle bag head towards the door.‘’what are you doing?’’ he shouts running in front of me‘’if you step one step out of this house, you will be no longer in my life’’ he says emotionless.It takes up a lot of strength of not backing away from my decision,‘’I know’’ I murmur and pass him, heading towards the cab.As the car starts I hear Adam coming out, running behind the car, and pleading for me to come back. But I can’t. What’s done is done, nothing can change it. The rest of the ride, I continuously sob and cry at the fact that how everything had changed within a snap of fingers.----------It’s been two weeks, since I last spoke to him, more like ended everything with Adam. The first week he used to continuously call and text me, I used to ignore his calls but read his messages like a hypocrite, I couldn’t control myself. It took every ounce of me to not jump and receive his calls. I wanted to block him, but I also know that I didn’t. He stopped calling and texting from last week since he received the divorce papers. For the last two weeks I had been staying with my best friend Kate, he didn’t know I was here, since she shifted here 3 months ago, the same time he and I started to drift away. Kate was a lawyer it’s because of her I could send the divorce papers this early not missing the point that she is my lawyer.‘’Are you ready?’’ Kate asked as she was putting her phone in her handbag.‘’Yep,’’ I sighed. Today is the day, we were having the first meeting with both the lawyers unofficially.‘’Are you nervous?’’ she asked as concern laced in her voice.‘’I am just afraid I might breakdown the moment I see him’’ I say and shut my eyes, with tears already falling. ‘’Where are we meeting them?’’ I asked‘’ A restaurant named ‘Mads and Crave’, I guess it’s near the-‘’ I cut her off,‘’Milestone tower’’ I whispered, it was Adam’s office.‘’ Ah- yeah!’’ she replied with a sympathetic smile.‘’let’s go then’’ Kate said, motioning towards the door.‘’Sure,’’ I replied and came out, waiting for Kate to lock her door.Within 30 minutes, the huge sign of ‘Mads and Crave’ could be seen, with five stars written underneath it. With the amount of glamour and décor the place itself was shouting ‘’five stars!’’, we hopped out and entered the restaurant.‘’table reserved for four, Adam Michael’s table’’ Kate said to the waitress as my heart skipped a beat at his name.‘’sure, follow me’’ the waitress replied with a polite smile as she led the way.After we sat and got comfortable, Kate ordered two cups of coffee for us. It had been 15 minutes since we arrived but neither Adam nor his lawyer made their appearance and it was pissing Kate off.‘’I will just use the washroom,’’ she said as she made her towards the washroom.After a moment she was back but there was still no notice of Adam or his lawyer.‘’Do you smell something?’’ Kate asked sniffing the air.‘’What?’’ I asked sniffing the air as well,‘’It smells like something is burning’’ she said and a blood-curdling scream echoed in the restaurant everyone started pushing each other and running out, it was when someone shouted, ‘’Fire!’’ me and Kate got the hint.We both sprinted towards the door but something near the bathroom caught my eyes, it was a small figure sitting under one of the tables, I looked towards Kate, she was already near the door but I stopped. This might be the craziest thing I would be doing in my life, maybe the last thing, but I couldn’t just let her die and save mine. So, I took slow and steady steps near her.‘’Grace! What are you doing!?’’ Kate screamed near the door, ‘’Come back! Are you crazy!’’ she was still screaming and getting pushed but didn’t leave without me.‘’Kate, there is a small girl under the table, I need to save her!’’ I screamed with tears rolling down my eyes for the fire as well as the fact that maybe this is the last time I would be talking to my best friend.‘’No! Come back the firemen can save her!!’’ she said as she started to reach me but a large chandelier had fallen in the way making her flinch back.’’Go don’t hurt yourself!’’ I shouted‘’Firemen-‘’ she started but I cut her off, ‘’they will take a lot of time!’’ I shouted shaking my head towards her.Soon she was shoved out and I reached the girl. The girl was wearing a baby pink frock and had golden blonde hair, she was shaking and quietly sobbing.‘’hey, beautiful’’ I whispered, making her look at me with her red, swollen puffy eyes,‘’I am here to save you, come on’’ I whispered again, giving one of my hands for her to hold. She hesitantly held them and came out of the table, I gave her a small smile which she returned, and started to make my way towards the door.As soon as we took one step, small and large pieces of the ceiling which was caught on fire started to fall on the ground with loud ‘bang’s, I quickly covered the little girl’s eyes and started making my way towards the near table, I covered the kid’s body with mine, with the burns and exhaustion I couldn’t walk anymore we both started coughing and panting, it was becoming harder for me to breathe, I was feeling dizzy at the same time nauseous.I bend down on the level of the kid,‘’ do you see that table?’’ I asked.‘’yeah.’’ She whispered.‘’go underneath it, okay?’’ I asked softly but she vigorously shook her head.‘’you come with me too’’ she replied pulling my hands with hers as tears were rolling down her eyes. But I collapsed.‘’Hey, hey no tears’’ I replied softly wiping hers and my tears as well. No matter how much I tried my body gave up.‘’you go under that table first’’, I said pointing to the table, ‘’and I am following you okay? You see you need to catch that place before anyone else does’’ I replied, and she nodded.‘’come fast’’ she whispered and the next thing she did, melted my heart, she kissed my forehead and papered my face with kisses.‘’you are my savior’’ she said and walked under the table, glancing back in my way. I sent a small smile which she returned with a flying kiss making my heart flutter.I was watching her and the next thing I hear is a blood-curdling scream, I looked over the girl to make sure she was fine but she was watching me with horror, straight after that, I knew the scream was coming out of me. I saw her trying to come to me,‘’ don’t! I am fine!’’ I shouted, my eyes closing and I was breathing heavily, my body just gave up. I saw there were pieces of glass on my legs, another chandelier had fallen, and it fell on my legs.I didn’t have the energy anymore, I closed my eyes, I could hear sirens and the sound of fire, images of me and Adam swirled in my mind, from the first day we met, our wedding and lasted till our fight, I was smiling at the thought of me hating him when we met for the first time, and in my last breath, it was him I was thinking about. Images of mum and dad were also there, my universe how much I wish, I could for the last time, tell them how much I love them. Kate, my best friend, the true meaning of a friend not only did she let me stay at her place she was ready to risk her life to save mine. Lastly, I was glad I met the angel in front of me, who was shredding her precious tears on me, one last time I opened my eyes to look at her brown doe-like eyes, I sent a small smile and was going to close my eyes when I saw the ceiling on top of me started falling on me. I shut my eyes to take the pain and die peacefully, something heavy fell on top of me but the pain never came, I opened my eyes only to connect with the most beautiful grey orbs that I fell in love with. I wanted to kiss him one last time and tell him how much I love him. But I couldn’t. With a small smile on my face, I closed my eyes.-----“It has been a week! Why isn’t she waking up!’’ I hear a very familiar growl.‘’Mr. Michael you have to understand it’s not on my hands and I have news for you’’ the other person told shakily. Though my eyes were closed my senses were on full alert. I could sense the other person was on the way to pee himself.‘’it better be good!’’ Adam growled again.‘’you wife-‘’ he was cut off with my groan, as all of a sudden a pain shot through my abdomen and head. Though I was lying I felt my head was spinning causing me to tightly shut my eyes.‘’Babe’’ Adam called softly as he in an instant took my hands in his. I slowly open my eyes but the bright light causes me to shut my eyes again. Someone shuts the curtains and open my eyes again only to meet a very tired, anxious Adam who was softly smiling at me. His beard had outgrown and by the looks of it, I knew he didn’t take care of himself.‘’Thank god, you are awake otherwise I would have punched the doctor’’ he says with a small chuckle sending music to my ears and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.I send a small smile and remember why I am here. Suddenly it clicks.‘’where is she?’’ I asked with panic in my voice.‘’she is fine, she’s with her father, he’s one of my employees.’’ He replies softly, ‘’ I know you got riled up in saving her life, but why did you have to risk your life!’’ he says quietly yet I could hear the anger in his voice.‘’I couldn’t think of anything else’’ I replied quietly.‘’I thought... I thought,’’ his voice breaking, ‘’I thought I lost you forever’’ he whispered as tears were rolling down his eyes.‘’I am fine’’ I say quietly.‘’stop! Just stop! Stop saying you are fine when you aren’t!’’ he snaps as I flinch.‘’sorry’’ he replies, ‘’ I always manage to fuck up don’t I?’’ he says with a low chuckle yet I could hear the pain in his voice.‘’Yeah,’’ I murmured rolling my eyes as he laughs.I try to pull my hands away from his but he tightens.‘’ don’t’’ he growls lowly as he bends down and kisses my neck, knowing I can’t win, I let him.‘’Babe,’’ he softly calls me looking up at me with glistened eyes, ‘’I am so fucking sorry! I know sorry doesn’t cover up anything, but please give me second chance, I don’t want any babies, I just want you! It’s just for the last couple of months everyone kept asking me about who would rule the company after me and it got me, but I don’t want anything else! I just want you! Please, babe, give us a second chance and stop, please’’ he pleads and whispers the last part as he starts continuously shaking.I hug him tightly and pressing my lips on his, he freezes at first but then kisses me back passionately as if there’s no tomorrow.‘’You better mean it’’ I murmur against his lips seeing him smile.‘’Trust me, baby, I never meant anything more than this’’ he says and goes back to kissing me.When my hands run on his back, I feel something hard more like cloth.''What is this?'' I asked, trailing my hands on his back, trying to figure out what that is, then it all of it clicked, the ceiling fell on top of him. He risked his life to save mine. He looks up with a lazy smile, knowing that I figured out the answer,''Doesn't matter'' and continues kissing my jaws.I didn’t notice he was on my bed straddling me until I heard someone clear his throat. Adam groans beside me and shoots the doctor a murderous glare.‘’you have a death wish to make Doc?’’ he asks with annoyance, as lays beside me with his hands on waist tightening.‘’no, no, I just came to inform something’’ he says with fear in his voice.‘’It better be good’’ Adam glares. And the next thing the doctor says changes my life in a snap of fingers, charismatically.‘’Mrs. Michaels, ‘’ he starts with a smile,‘’you are pregnant’’.
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171
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Set all or part of your story in a jam-packed storage unit.
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Indiana? As in Jones?
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“We found him unconscious under the storage unit door.”“Strange. Well, get what you can out of him and fill out an accident report,” the sergeant said. “I’m heading back to the station.”“Sergeant, he's claiming he was attacked.”“Attacked?” his right eyebrow raised. “All right, I guess it's a crime scene. Go ahead, tape it off.” “Sir, he's concussed and confused. He can't remember much and, um, uh—-.” “Spit it out, Officer.”“Um,” he smirked, “He said his name is Indiana.”“As in Jones?” His brow took another step up. “Yes, I think so, sir.”“Is that him with the paramedics?”“Yes sir,” he said with a snicker, “The one with the whip.”“All right, Officer Smith. Let's show a little respect for the victim.” The old man started to get restless with the paramedics and shouted out, “ I must go back into the cave. They have the pink prism. I need to return it.”The sergeant began to walk over to the ambulance as the two paramedics did their best to soothe the old man down. The closer he got to the mystery guy, he could see he had on a white button-down shirt, a bullwhip hanging from his belt buckle and a dusty brown wool hat on his head. “Hello sir, I’m Sergeant—-”“They took the pink prism,” he said with bulging eyes “I need to go back into the cave.”“Sir, when you say cave, do you mean the storage unit?”“The what? The cave,” he yelled and pointed at the garage opening.“All right, sir, you need to calm down. You've been hit in the head. I was told you can't remember what happened.”“I remember everything I need to. Like the people that attacked me.”“We will get to that in a second. First, how do you know what your name is?” The man took off his hat and showed the sergeant the inside brim. He pointed to the faded words and said, “Indiana Jones.” The two paramedics treating him began to laugh. “Mr. Jones—Is it OK if I call you Indie?”“That's fine.”“OK Indie, these nice men are going to take you to the hospital and get you taken care of. “No, I must get the prism back,” he shouted as he tried to shake free from the men. “OK, OK, I need you to stay calm, Indie. I will help you get it back,” he said as he took out his notepad. “Why don't you tell me what happened.”Mr. Jones took a deep breath and said, “I was ambushed!” “How many would you say attacked you?”“There were six of them. The leader had a white suit on and a soft, childlike voice. He threatened me with his pet tiger. There was another man, but I didn’t get a good look at his face. He did a flying drop kick at me, and all I could see was a soaring blue-jean buttocks with a red handkerchief stuffed in its pocket.” He inhaled, “And– and four creepy men that hovered in the darkness. All I could see was their heads. They had long hair and no facial expressions. The way they looked at me— it was like they were waiting for the OK from the boss to have me for dinner.” He looked up at the sergeant, “I’m pretty sure they were vampires.” The sergeant finished writing in his notebook and looked at Mr. Jones. “Quite the cast of characters,” he said dead-eyed.“Yes, I’m lucky to get out of there alive.”“OK, I’m going to read this back to you.” He looked down at his notes, “We are looking for a soft-spoken man in a white suit with a tiger. A flying-ass in blue jeans and maybe a red handkerchief in the pocket. Let's not forget the hippie vampires that were floating in the dark. Is this correct?”“Yes, that sounds correct.”“Which one of these men gave you that moon-shaped lump in the middle of your forehead?”“None of them. I got freaked out by the levitating men, so I grabbed the pink prism and started to run. It was dark, and I slammed into the wall, causing a rock slide. One of the boulders came right down on my forehead. “Go on, what happened next?” “I ran, and I ran. When I turned around, they were gone. The light from the cave opening was visible. I got excited and began an all-out sprint toward it, but I tripped over an ancient burial box. My foot went right through it, and pieces of bones flew everywhere. After the dust settled, I could see that the damn box saved my life.”“And how is that?”“I crashed to the ground at the right moment to avoid the flaming spear trap.” He pointed to his head and smiled. “It triggers at skull height. I slid right underneath, not setting off one of them. The local tribe people are very crafty, and they don't take kindly to treasure hunters. So if you or your men go in there, be careful.”“All right. I will keep that in mind. Continue, please.”“With no one behind me, I slowed down my pace and kept an eye out for more traps. Every step I took cracked, popped and squeaked. I wasn't certain, but figured it was the scattered bones or bugs” he shivered and said, “you know, creepy crawly things thrive in that kind of environment.”“Good to know, proceed.” Mr. Jones put up a finger as he said, “I took one more step, and a loud crunch echoed throughout the tavern.” He put his head down. “How could I be so careless.” “What was it, Indie?” He looked up and said, “I stepped on a boobie trap, and the cave opening began to come down. I ran as fast as I could and dove for the shrinking exit. The next thing I remember is talking to the officer and the prism was gone.”“Ok— thank you for your time, Indie.”“I need to find the pink prism. It has to go back to the rightful owners.” The sergeant padded him on the arm and said, “We have it under control, Mr. Jones,” He turned around and made his way to the storage unit. He stood there and gazed into it. Officer Smith strolled over to him and said, “Quite the story, huh?”“Yeah, it sure is.”“I’m going to have the men take down the tape line.”“Hold on, officer.” The sergeant shook his head and said, “We wouldn't be doing our job if we didnt go inside and take a look around.”“You’re right sir, but I’m all out of holy water and garlic,” Officer Smith said with a cheeky smile.With a straight face, the sergeant walked into the unit. “Where did the alleged attack take place?”“In the back left corner, sir. Follow me and watch your step. There's junk all over the floor,” he said as he walked around a mountain of storage boxes. He pointed his light to the supposed crime scene “Here it is.”Sergeant turned his flashlight on to get a better visual. “It looks like a couple of boxes fell off the top shelf.” One box was marked Halloween 1986, and the other with records. He nudged the box marked records with his foot “It's full.”Officer Smith chuckled and said, “If that's what fell on his head, then no wonder he's acting so nuts.”Sergeant bent down and flipped open the Halloween box. A single tag sat on the bottom that read official movie replica Indiana Jones Hat. He grabbed it and showed Officer Smith “Here’s how he got his name.”“No shit,” Smith began to laugh. “Where did he come up with his attackers?”“I'm not sure,” he stood up and shined his light around, “look, four records must have fallen out of the box from the impact.”“Anything good?”He reached down and picked them up. “Um, Michael Jackson's Thriller, Queen II, Pink Floyd's The Dark Side Of The Moon, and Bruce Springsteen's Born In The USA.” He opened up the Thriller album cover and began to chuckle.Officer Smith side-eyed him “Are you OK?” I've never heard you laugh before.”He lifted up the cover “Look, do you know who this is?”“Of course, it’s Michael Jackson.”“Are you sure?” he said as he opened the album. He pointed his finger and said, “Look, what does he have?”“A tiger cub?”“Bingo! The record box fell, knocking him unconscious. That's where the story begins.”“Wow, that's amazing, sir.”“OK, let's backtrack to where we found him under the door, and piece it all together. So he was doing something back here. Whatever it was, he wasn't planning on a 50-pound box falling on him. Knocked out, he woke up disoriented. He grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be the Halloween box. It had a hat with the name Indiana Jones written inside. He couldn't remember his name, so just figured that was him. Confused, his mind began to play tricks on him.”“I’ve heard of this before. When the brain has been traumatized to the point of hallucinations. I think they call it the OZ effect.”“That's exactly what happened. He looked at the album covers, and a story was made up in his head. The leader had a soft, child-like voice with a white suit and a tiger (Michael Jackson, the inside cover of Thriller). The flying butt kick (Bruce Springsteen Born In The USA cover). It was a red hat in the back pocket. The four creepy men, or vampires (Queen II cover), and that brings us to Pink Floyd's The Dark Side Of The Moon. The triangle on the cover is mixed with Pink Floyd's name, and you get the mystical pink prism that needs to be returned to the rightful owner, just like Indiana Jones in the movies. “Very good, sir, but that doesn't explain the rest of his story.”“You're right.” He looked around with the flashlight. “Got it. So when his brain exploded with all these images, he freaked out and ran. Still dizzy, he ran into the wall with a shelf full of old paint cans. They came toppling down on him like a cave-in. It wasn't a rock that cracked his forehead. It was a can of eggshell white.” “Keep going.” “He began to run, only to trip on that box, and crash to the ground” The sergeant reached down and grabbed the box with the shoe hole in it. He took a look inside, “Packing peanuts.” He tossed it back down, and a couple of styrofoam pieces flew out. He wasn't walking on bones or bugs. It was the peanuts smushing under his feet.” He took a couple of steps. “Look,” he shined his light onto a broken garage door opener. “He tripped on the box, and it must have fallen out of his hand. He didnt see it and stepped right on it. He thought it was a boobie trap. He triggered the garage opener, and thought the cave entrance was being sealed off, so he dove for it.”“Very good, sir, but you missed one thing.”“And what is that?”“Tiki torches.”“Of course, the head-seeking spears.” He smiled at Officer Smith and said, “good job.” They both walked out of the storage unit and over to Mr. Jones. “Indie, we have it all covered here. I'm going to release you to the hospital so you can get better.”“No, I can't leave. I need to return the pink prism!” The sergeant reached down and dislodged a styrofoam peanut from the tongue of Mr. Jones's shoe and said, “Sorry Indie, it's time to go.” He pressed the broken garage opener, and the roller door began to shut.The last cop walked out of the unit. “Hey, look what I found” he raised his arm to show the pink prism in his hand.“Is that what I think it is?” Officer Smith scoffed. “It can't be,” The sergeant said with a waver in his voice. A loud, sharp crack fired off behind them. They turned around to see Mr. Jones standing with his bullwhip in hand. He cracked it again and flicked it at the officer with the pink prism. The cracker wrapped around it, and he jerked it back to his hand. “How did he do that?” Officer Smith said. Mr. Jones looked at the sergeant, tipped his hat and said, “You would make a good treasure hunter.” He gave him a sly smile and began running towards the descending door.“He's not going to make it,” Officer Smith shouted. The old, beat-up man dove and rolled under the door as it slammed shut. “He made it,” the sergeant said with a twinkle in his eye. “All right, let's get this door open so we can rescue Mr. Jones for the second time today. He pushed the button, but it crumbled to pieces. “Ok, we’ll have to do it manually.”Three flaming spears shot halfway through the tin door. “What the fuck?” The sergeant yelled, “Get that door open.”The officers ran over and forced the door up. “It's empty,” one of them shouted.“What is going on?” The sergeant said as a single-engine plane flew overhead. They all looked up to see what looked like the old man, and he was screaming, “Yahoooooo!” The men stood there in silence until it disappeared into the horizon. “Is this a missing persons case now?” Officer Smith asked.The sergeant, with his typical straight face, walked to his squad car and got in. He flipped the PA on and said, “Drinks are on me if we can all agree nothing happened here today.”
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1,344
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Write about two people reconnecting after a rough patch in their relationship.
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Intersecting Trajectories
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The restaurant would close in ninety minutes. Tom looked around. More people were leaving than entering. In spite of it getting late he hadn't lost hope. Hope? What was he hoping for? He asked himself the same question again. This time he felt he should find the answer.
Tom was waiting for his ex-wife in the restaurant. They had been divorced about fifteen years ago. After he left the house he never tried to contact her or the two children he had from her. But a week ago his childhood friend Tim told him about a chance meeting with her. Tim had seen her giving a presentation on the products of her company in the hall of a large hotel in the city. She seemed so confident. She had made a noteworthy progress in her career. "And she will surely go even further" thought Tim when he saw her presentation. He told about her to Tom the next day. "I knew Laura was going to make a good progress", said Tom. Suddenly he felt curious to know more about her. Coincidentally, at the same moment Tim asked "want to meet her?" "Yes" replied Tom. After he had said "yes" he thought "what is the harm in meeting her?" Tim looked at his expressionless face and said "I can talk to her and arrange a meeting with you in a hotel room". Tom immediately said "I don't need privacy. Even a park or restaurant will do". "OK", said Tim, "our usual restaurant then". How did Tim convenience Laura to meet Tom? Was it difficult? Or did she agree immediately? Tom wanted to ask these questions to Tim, but didn't. Tim was surprised because Tom did not ask if she was accompanied by his children. Tom displayed no curiosity about his children.
As Tom waited, he wondered why he had agreed to meet Laura. Did he want to be together with her? That seemed improbable. He didn't think much about her after he left. Rather he had felt a kind of relief after the divorce proceedings ended. It was only during the past couple of years that her thoughts occurred to him with increasing frequency. But they were just thoughts. Random memories... woken up on seeing families in public places. But it was not just now that he was seeing families. They always existed in public places. Why was he noticing them only now? Funny thoughts. He pushed the question out of his mind. He came back to the first question. Why did he agree to meet with Laura? Was he curious to know more about her? Curious about her? No. He was never curious about her. He never tried to find out what she had been doing, or how she was raising his children. He knew she was a practical and career oriented woman. A woman capable of multitasking. She could manage her career and look after the children simultaneously. So why was he waiting for her now here? Was he hoping to get together with her? To start a life together? No. Never. So why would he think now? "A general curiosity", he thought, "nothing special". Just then he heard footsteps approaching his table from behind. A woman was walking with quick steps straight to his table, her clothes making swishing noise. He turned around. She was a slim and smart woman dressed smartly, walking with confidence in her gait. The woman was Laura. Their eyes met. "Sorry, I am late", she said. "It's OK", said Tom without a smile. Laura sat down facing him.
Now Tom could see her face clearly. There were some signs of ageing on her face. Small, thin lines at the corner of her eyes. Hair less dense. Cheeks had sunk in slightly. Her skin had lost some luster as well. Laura smiled as she caught him examining her face. "You have changed a bit", she said to Tom. Tom suddenly became conscious of himself. He had started to develop a potbelly. He was wearing reading glasses now and his hairline was receding. After a day’s work his coat looked a bit shabby. "Time", he said with a smile.
"Two coffee, please" said Laura to an approaching waiter. The waiter turned around quickly and left. Laura checked time in her mobile phone and said, "Tim says you are doing well in the stock market?" "Lady luck has been happy with me for quite some time", he said trying to keep his face straight. "How's life?" she asked placing both her elbows on the table and her chin on her crossed fingers. "A...a... all right", said Tom. Why did she ask the same question again? Then he realized what she meant. This time she hadn't asked him about his work. "I've a few friends", he began in a low voice looking at a painting hanging on a wall, "enjoy going out once in a while. Nice company... I mean friend circle". He felt as if he was giving an explanation. He checked himself. There was no need to be so defensive. "How's your life?" he asked her. He felt as if he had made a counter attack now. "Fine!" said Laura with a smile. It was a genuine smile. "Good work, nice friends...all is fine". She kept looking at him for a few seconds silently. Tom felt uncomfortable. Why was she looking at him that way? Accusingly? Was she expecting him to say something? Was he forgetting something? He couldn't think of anything. Finally he said "shall we go for a ride in my car?" "What?" asked Laura taking a deep breath. It seemed she knew he was going to disappoint her. "Don't worry", Tom said, "It's a new car. The one I always wanted. Even better". "Never mind", said Laura somewhat reproachfully. "My hotel is close by and I have to leave soon". Just then the waiter arrived. He placed the cups on the table and left quickly. Just then a family sitting a few tables away got up to leave. The children made a lot of noise with the chair as they got up. Tom didn't like it. But they reminded him something. "How are the children!" he asked happily as if he had won a race.
Laura gave a deep sigh. She felt frustrated. As if she had caught a culprit but couldn't do anything. "The children are fine", she said, staring into his eyes. Tom understood that she wanted him to ask about them. "How is their education going on?" he asked. He was prepared to hear "That's none of your business", but Laura seemed to have mellowed now. "Fine. The elder one will finish her school this year. The younger one has three more years to go", Laura said as if he wouldn't recognize them by their names. "College education is costly", said Tom. He felt concerned and he wanted Laura to know that. "Money is not a problem" said Laura, "My job is paying me well and they will surely get a scholarship". Tom felt a kind of relief. They fell silent again. "Do you invest in stocks?" Tom asked. Laura smiled. "The children wanted to meet you," she said. Tom looked at her without saying anything. He didn't know what to say. "But I said I didn't know if you were living in this city anymore", she said. Tom felt he should thank her for not putting him in a difficult situation. He sat quietly sipping his coffee. Finding him relaxed, Laura asked "You married?" "She doesn't like to see me relaxed" thought Tom. He felt irritated. "What difference does it make to her now?" he thought and took a sip of coffee. Laura saw him sitting silently and said "never mind". Tom felt that not answering her would mean he had done something wrong. "Oh, I never married" he said, "but I had a relationship". Laura knew.
"With the same girl?" Laura asked. The girl, Olivia, had been the last straw... for both of them. After marriage Tom and Laura stayed happy for a few years. But after their first child was born, they quarreled over everything. Tom would get frustrated and leave his house for a long walk. He used to feel better in his office. His colleagues were nice to him. Better than Laura. It was there that he met Olivia. A nice charming girl. She was good at work, at least not bad. She befriended everyone. So everyone helped her with her work and the boss never had a reason to complain. Tom helped her most. One day Tom was in a bad mood in the office after having a fight with Laura in the morning. Olivia sensed something was wrong with him. In the evening after office hours, she invited him to her house. She lived in a rented flat a few kilometers from the office. Tom saw her well kept house and felt very calm. He complemented her for being so systematic. Then over a cup of coffee that Olivia made, he compared the condition of his house with her flat. "Your wife has to manage her career and also look after her children", she said, "obviously she can't keep her house in a perfect order". Tom knew she would say something like this. Then she thanked him for being so helpful with her work. She talked about herself. A normal childhood. Good education provided by her parents. She studied hard to prove herself. To be eligible for a good job. She had to face a tough competition to get this job. She succeeded through hard work. She always wanted to be independent. To earn enough to support herself. "You are not independent if you are not financially independent" she believed.
"If you are financially independent you don't have to answer anybody", said Olivia. Tom agreed. What she said was obviously true. Wasn't it? "Then you can do whatever you like", she said and Tom listened, as he sat sipping his coffee on the white sofa in Laura's house. Laura kept talking. "I believe you should live life as you like. Otherwise what is the point in living?" Tom sat with his sight glued to the floor. When she fell silent for a few moments, Tom thought she was expecting a response from him. He had to say something. He thought for a second and said, "Contracts. You cannot be totally free because contracts bind you. You make contracts with others for some or the reason. For example, you have made a contract with your employer that you will finish a given amount of work in a fixed amount of time and receive payment for it. So you are not free." Laura agreed. "I am not free in a sense. True. In order to be financially independent, I have agreed to work for a fixed duration daily. But after that duration I am free. And the work I do is specified in the contract. They cannot assign me any random work. I am not from a very rich family. I want to be independent for which I have to play a price which I am doing. From every contract you must get at least as much you are putting in. If they start harassing me in the office I can resign and get another job. I can break the contract if the other party is unfair. Any contract can be broken if you think you are getting a raw deal". Here she felt silent and looked at him. He had to respond. "True. Obviously true". Olivia stood in front of him with her shoulders thrown back and her hair loose. She held her cup of coffee in her hand and looked down towards him. "Not just true", she said "It's common sense". Again she waited for an answer. "Hmm...", said Tom shifting his eye sight away from her staring eyes, "it's true. What you say is true", he said. Could he break a contract from which he got nothing? That was the thought at the top in his mind. "What are you thinking?" asked Olivia. She wanted to clear all his doubts. "Contracts. There are consequences of breaking a contract", said Tom in a low voice, looking at a vacant spot on a wall. "Of course there are", said Olivia, "but I am a strong woman. I know that if I resign from the job, I will get another job. Anywhere. I am that competent". Tom looked at her face. She was calm. Her eyes looked half closed as she was still standing and looking down towards him. He felt her expressionless face was challenging him. She came close to him. She kept her knee on the sofa and then sat down next to him. Still looking straight in his eyes, she asked him "are you confident? Are you a confident independent man? A human being... who thinks he has a right to be happy?"
It was a moment when Tom thought he had a right to be happy. For next few hours, Tom was happy and Olivia had her way, passionately. Finally Tom reached home after his usual dinner time. He said there was too much work at the office. Laura served him dinner. When he went to bed, Laura smelt a strange perfume. Maybe she even found a long hair on the back of his coat. She had her ways of making inquiries and she found out the truth. After all Tom couldn't stop meeting Olivia again in the same week. Laura felt insulted and humiliated at being cheated. One fine morning, at the breakfast table she confronted Tom with all the proofs against him. Initially he tried to dodge her questions, but when he saw she knew everything in detail, he got irritated and confessed with a straight face that he had cheated her. "OK, so that's it", he said looking straight in her eyes. "It happened by mistake" said he. "Go to hell", said his eyes. "We can't continue together", Laura said. That was what he wanted. "Can't you forgive me", he said successfully hiding his smile. He left the rented house and moved into a flat that was close to the flat of Olivia.
"Yes, with the same girl", said Tom to Laura as they sat sipping their coffee in the restaurant. "Are you still with her?" Laura asked. "No", said Tom, "and what did you do after our divorce?" "I had to hire a baby sitter in order to continue working in my office", said Laura, as the past fifteen years passed in front of her eyes.
Laura had to hire a baby sitter. To pay the extra expenditure incurred on the baby sitter, she had to work even more. She did not talk about Tom to her children. The children understood her reluctance to talk about their father so they did not ask her. Laura did not want her children to be irresponsible. She never missed an opportunity of talking about being responsible in all walks of life. She prepared her children for tomorrow, the kind of life they should lead. The children were intelligent. They understood everything she said. They never argued with her. They never troubled her. Laura got promotions for doing her job well. She made herself an example for her children to follow. She loved them. She tried to spend as much time with them as possible. She found it hard to strike a balance between working to maintain her lifestyle and following her maternal instincts to be with her children. But she succeeded. At least till now she had been successful. She was ready to pay the bill for the two cups of coffee that she had ordered. She could pay the bill for Tom’s dinner too, if the meeting continued long.
"So you did not marry Olivia? Then whom did you marry? Or did you remain single? " Laura emptied her magazine of questions. She was curious.
"Olivia was an ambitious girl", said Tom, "she found a better partner and a better job. Then I came to know that she never married though she got into a few more relationships. The last I heard was that she chose to be a single mother without marrying". "Maternal instincts are strong", said Laura, "and what about you?" "I too had a few short term relationships with a few girls. Each time my emotional involvement was less than the previous one. Now I have given up. My business is going strong. Initially I used to buy shiny cars and clothes to get partners. As I got famous for my capacity to spend, I got many partners one after the other, all for short period. "That is a hedonist life style", said Laura. "I have heard that word more than once", said Tom, "but that's the way I live". "This way of living doesn't go well in the long run", said Laura. "Who has seen tomorrow?” said Tom, “This is the moment in which you can possibly live. What if I get out of this restaurant and a truck hits me by mistake and I die? Anything can happen. I have to live as much as possible in the present moment".
Laura felt the meeting was over. There was no point in continuing the meeting with Tom. Tom felt Laura had nothing to offer to him. So he too got up. The waiter had already brought the bill and Laura paid it. Tom didn't mind.
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6,144
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Write a story about an adventure in a small town.
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It Was Halloween
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Have you ever heard of the abandoned school? The school my mama attended to when she was my age. Nobody knows what happened to it. My mama seems to have forgotten. Anita Dunlap, my very best friend, told me that two bats live there. One short and stubby and the other long and windy. Of course, she was joking. Such a silly thing could never be real. “Ivette it's time for school” my mama hollered, “You're going to be late.” It was Halloween today. The sky was inky black, my window was all foggy. The spooky touch that Halloween brings was lurking around every corner. Just one more lifeless, tiresome day. I thought as I begrudgingly got out of bed. My clock read 6:55. Five minutes till the bus gets here. I flopped out of bed and stumbled into my walk-in closet. I glanced at the clock again. 6:56. four minutes till the bus arrived. My brain processed this and I jumped a foot in the air. Wait! Four minutes! I got dressed in a frenzy, then ran into the kitchen, grabbed a stale bagel, (along with my backpack) and ran out the door. “Ivette, guess what!” shrieked Anita “What” I sighed. “My mama got me a pet iguana!” she whispered as we boarded the bright yellow bus. “You know...!” I told her, “Iguanas are the largest lizards in America. An Iguana has strong jaws with sharp teeth. They have a very long and sharp tail that is usually-” “I get it Ivette” Anita sighed, cool stuff about iguanas and stuff. “Stop saying the word stuff so often!” I said, “it gets annoying.” “Well it gets weird when you name off tons of facts all the time.” she shot back, then she lowered her voice, “Speaking of weird...” Santiago Mcleod passed us. “There's Mr. weird himself”. I laughed. We watched as Santiago sat down by Oswald Jones. Oswald was considered the "shy" kid. He hardly ever spoke to anybody and usually tended to hide in the back of the classroom. He was also really lazy and barely did anything throughout the school day. His only friend was Santiago. I liked to consider myself an expert on everybody in our town. It was a really small town out in the middle of nowhere, we were all practically our own cousins and the only thing to do on a hot afternoon was to watch your neighbors. (which pretty much consisted of the whole town.) I sighed. Life was boring. That morning we did hardly anything interesting. Mrs. Reid made us to “fun pumpkin math problems” but they weren't fun at all. In almost every class we did something Halloween associated. It was October 31, after all. When lunch finally came around I went over to my usual seat at my usual table. Like every uninteresting day. Anita was there, but there were two other people there also. Santiago Mcleod and Oswald Jones. Santiago looked like he was in space. Oswald looked as if he was still sleeping, except for the fact that his eyes were still open and he was tapping his foot. “What are they doing over here?” I muttered. “Well they kind of just walked over here” Anita explained, “they said something about wanting to sit somewhere new for a change.” Then I realized they must have been bored out of their minds too. It was easy to get tired of everyday life in such a small town like ours. I turned to Oswald, not wanting to look at Santiago. He had a far-off look in his eyes, it almost looked like he wasn't meant to be here. I opened my mouth to say something, but just before I spoke Anita said, “I-Ivette” I glanced at her and she was trembling. She looked genuinely scared and It spooked me a bit. My friend was not one to be afraid. “Yeah?” She slowly pointed at the window. I turned my head to see. I froze. There were two bats perched upon the lunchroom windowsill one short and stubby the other long and windy. Their eyes seemed to glow red through the foggy window. Anita looked horror-stricken. “ I-I was joking when I described them” she stuttered. "I made the whole thing up..." I looked over at Oswald and Santiago, expecting to see two terrified faces. But to Ivette's surprise, they didn't look scared at all, instead, they seemed even more tired. Suddenly Santiago looked up. “There just bats” he babbled. “Boring, useless, dreary bats.” “You're right” I responded, although I didn't want to be seen agreeing with Santiago of all people. “Boring, Yeah,” remarked Anita. Although she Pretended it was uninteresting, I could tell she was still horrified about the bats and how they fit her perfect description. -.- After school, Anita rushed up to me in the halls and shook me. "We need to talk," she said. “What's wrong?” I asked, shocked. “The bats... they fit my description, almost exactly” She whispered. “Except for their eyes, Their eyes seemed to glow red” I Whispered back. Out of nowhere, Anita's eyes seemed to brighten. “So, you were paying attention! I knew it! There's no way that those creepy bats just appear out of nowhere, fitting my crazy story of them almost exactly." "Yeah? And?" "I stole that story from a strange figure claiming to be passing through town," she explained. A chill went down my back. “You're always saying you're bored, right?” Anita questioned. “Yeah, I guess so” I replied, wondering what she was up to. She continued with a smirk, “Well, why don't we make life fun and do something new on Halloween night for a change.” “...Like What?” I was getting suspicious. “Like finding out where those bats came from.” She almost squealed. “Are you crazy!” I stammered, “Those things are creepy.” “But it wouldn't be boring.” She answered, “What if they lead to the abandoned school, That would be an adventure.” She smiled a daring smile as if to say if you don't come you're a big chicken. Just then, Santiago, who seemed to pop out of nowhere from behind us, asked, “You're going to the school remains?” “Yeah, sure you could call it that,” Anita claimed. “Ohh we wanna come too!” insisted Santiago. “Right Oswald?” He snapped. “Yeah, sure, whatever” replied Oswald. “How about 9:00” Santiago suggested. “Yeah let's meet at the graveyard” whispered Anita. I was extremely confused. First of all, where did Santiago and Oswald even come from, (had they been spying on us?) second, why in the world did Anita invite them to come without even hesitating? "So?" Anita pushed. "Are you coming or not." "Sure" I replied. I don't know why I agreed to it. Maybe it was because I wanted something new, I possibly just wanted to go to keep Anita company, make sure she wasn't going crazy. Either way, I arrived at the town graveyard at 9:00. Anita, Santiago, and Oswald were all there waiting for me. "Well? what are we waiting around for," Cheered Anita. "let's go find those bats!" After a few hours of searching for bats, we came upon an eerie-looking cave. "Looks like a bat home to me," Anita said. "Well, I'm not going in there," I whispered. We sat there in silence for a few heartbeats before Santiago spoke up. "I'll do it." He said with mock bravery. Then he ran into the cave. About one second later we heard a scream, then Santiago came running out of the cave. Two bats right behind him. "I found them." he panted, then fell to the ground. Anita ignored him. "Hurry, let's follow them!" She said. "But what about-" Oswald started. "He's fine!" Anita shooed him away. "He's just resting." Oswald shrugged and continued to follow her after the bats. I glanced back at Santigo. He wasn't moving. With a shudder, I reluctantly ran after the others. -.- It had been hours of jogging after bats (Oswald, barley being able to keep up) when we finally arrived somewhere. It was an old torn apart building, much smaller than any I'd seen in our town so far. The windows were cracked and there appeared to be claw marks in the eroding wood. A crooked sign over the top of the shack read, "School." Anita gasped. "It's the abandoned school!" She said in awe. "let's go inside!" "Are you kidding? No." "Cmon you chicken." she taunted. "b-kak!" I frowned and shook my head. "You're just a big fat chicken." She jeered. "Oswald will go with me though right?" "Sure," he grumbled. "Good." She giggled. I was starting to think she really was going mad. She and Oswald entered the school cautiously. I stubbornly stayed behind. I heard Anita gasp, then Oswald. I stumbled back. Then I heard their screams. Screams of horror. Screams of absolute and true terror. Then the school was quiet. My eyes widened, and I began to run away from the school with lightning speed. After a while, I passed Santiago, he looked pale and cold. I kept moving. Once I thought I was far enough, I slowed down to a walk, gasping for breath. Part of me was curious as to what Anita and Oswald had seen in the rickety old school, but the rest of me was determined to get as far away from it as was possible. I heard a stick snap behind me and I flipped around. Before me stood the silhouette of a little girl. She looked around the age of four and held a little stuffed animal in each of her hands. One held a short and stubby bat, The other a long and windy one. My heart began to race. She grinned and quirked her head to the side, and I noticed how her eyes glowed red, and how her brows were turned inward. She was enraged. I screamed, and she lunged at me. Then all was dark. -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- When the bodies of four of the town's teenagers were found dead, but seemingly unhurt, the townsfolk began to question the reason behind their death's. Many rumors were spread about the poor children, but none of them seemed to hold any truth to them. The real truth was that it was a mystery, and the people of the small town here in the middle of nowhere would never know. It would haunt them for forevermore and they would never quite feel perfectly safe in their town again.
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4,125
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Write a space adventure story that features a visit to an alien marketplace.
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It’s Moonday at the Lunar Mall
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It’s Monday morning and I take a stroll down to the corner news agency and buy a paper. Back home I start up the coffee machine and full mug in hand, I sit on the couch, skip the bad news on page 1 and start paging through on my way to the crossword. Wow! What’s that huge ad on page 2?
“It’s Moonday at the Lunar Mall Today and every Moonday. Everything at half price!”
Where on earth is the Lunar Mall? Well, if it’s Lunar, it’s not on earth. It’s got to be on the moon.
Very clever! If I had a store that no one could get to, I would offer a 90 percent discount on everything. Maybe even 99 percent!
The ad in the paper is a full-page, must have cost a bomb and has some small print on the left-hand side. “Visit the Lunar Mall. We’ll make it worth your while. Tell your spaceship commander to drop you off at the Northern end of The Sea of Tranquility.”
Very funny! Of the 7.8 billion people on earth, I know of only one man who can go out to his garage, climb into his spaceship, fire up the rockets and select ‘Moon’ as the destination. It’s not me. I keep turning to the crossword.
The puzzle, as usual, is impossible at first glance and then unfolds clue by clue until it reaches your level of insanity. At that moment you either give up, curse the cruciverbalist, or burn the entire paper. This morning something made me pause among the clues and think back some 30 years to my college days. Remember when we built time machines in third year engineering? It was a nutty lecturer’s scheme to see how inventive we students were. I won the prize. The lecturer said I was outright crazy and destined to get nowhere in my future career. Bits and pieces of that old hulk were still scattered around the house, mostly in the garage.
I went in there after lunch and scrounged out remainders of my time machine. I re-assembled them as best I could and stood back to look at the result. I once read a definition of a camel which said, “A horse designed by a committee”. That same committee would have done a better job on my attempt. It was a pile of junk glued together by a blind man. The next phase in this project was to convert that so-called time machine to a space ship that will fly 240 thousand miles to the moon and 240 thousand miles back. At about 3,000 miles per hour.
No problem, right? The time machine already has wings and a rudder. Now it needs:
A rocket – what’s going to make this thing lift off mother earth?
Fuel tanks – I don’t want to run out of gas anywhere on this trip,
Brakes – I don’t want to be traveling at 3,000 mph when I hit the car park on the moon or bang into my garden when I return,
Instruments – so I know what’s happening and what’s going to happen,
Space for my purchases at the mall – what if I buy a 60 inch TV set? Or a new mattress?
Food and drink – the flight will take 3 or 4 days. I have to eat and drink.
A bathroom of some sorts – no explanation necessary.
Money for shopping – I pack a box of coins, notes, and Bitcoins. One of these should work.
Perhaps I should just forget the whole thing?
But thoughts insist on creeping into my head. How difficult can it be? After all, I am an engineer. And Google is always available.
So I asked Google about rocket fuel and find it’s not a problem.
Fuel tanks? Can be bought at many places.
Brakes: I’ll talk to the guys down at the service station where I take my car, and to the mechanics at the town airport. Someone is bound to have an idea.
Instruments: I need a compass - local toyshop. Speedometer - airport mechanic. Clock - watchmaker in the mall. Fuel gauges - service place.
Luggage room: I have to add extra space at the back of the machine: I will do this myself.
Food and drink: supermarket at the mall.
Bathroom: I’ll call one of those mobile potty places.
I’m practically ready!
And 3 weeks later I am ready for lift-off. I push the ignition button. Brace myself for an ear-splitting bang and jerk and ten seconds later I’m looking down on my garden 100 feet below me. Five minutes later my speedometer tells me that I’m moving at 2,890 mph. Not bad. Terrible rattling sound coming from the back-end where I screwed on the extension to the body to carry purchased goods home. I must tighten those screws... So far everything else is working fine.
Landing was both exciting and then terrifying. But I’m down safely, wandering around on the beach with giant strides. Aha, I see a shuttle bus contraption to the mall.
Inside, the place is teeming with strange looking green figures. They are small and thin with large funny-shaped heads. Most of them are carrying bags meaning that they are taking advantage of the sale. They back away from me on sight. I try talking to one of them who dared to come close but he stood looking at me and remained silent. How the hell am I supposed to do any shopping in this place?
A crowd gathers around me, keeping their distance but seeming friendly. Then the little creatures move, leaving a pathway for the large figure that walks through and stops right in front of me. It has some semblance to a human but some of the pieces have been attached in the wrong places. What must be a hand comes out towards me and I understand that it wants to shake with me. I grab this hand thing. It reminds me of the time I shook hands with an elephant’s trunk in Thailand.
“Coffee,” I say to this ‘man’. It takes my elbow and guides me along. We stop at a sort of kiosk. There’s a green barista serving drinks. I ask for coffee which I need really badly. I’m on day 4 of withdrawal. What I get is not coffee but it settles my nerves.
My guide looks at me as if to say, “now where?”
“Television sets,” I say.
He shakes his head which simply rolls from side to side as though it isn’t attached. I’m learning their language quickly. Hope I never have to say no to anyone here... He points down his throat. “Food?”
I nod carefully. My head remains stable. He sets off down the aisle and I follow. The food hall is crowded with noisy eaters. Conversation ceases as soon as I arrive. Heads swivel to look at me. Perhaps I am a relic of a bygone age. I eat food that I don’t recognize. Could have been meat. Or was it green cheese?
We wander around the mall which is huge. The stores are varied and seem to keep just about anything. I see a TV store and look at my guide and point at it. Again he does the head-roll thing and makes a bit of noise. My guess is that theirs work on solar power while we are still using electricity. I stop at a fruit and vegetable kiosk and inspect the produce. I do not recognize anything. Nothing in the men’s clothing store fits me either.
The hours pass and we eat again and window-shop again. It’s become just another mall. I signal my guide that I’ve had enough. He looks surprised. I stop at a food kiosk and fill up on – hey, are those sandwiches and cans of drink? Enough to get me home, I hope. I motion a large ‘Thank You and See You Again’ signal to my guide and head for the shuttle station.
Back at the spaceship I squeeze myself into the seat, hit the ignition, wait for the bang, and set a course back to earth. Touchdown in my garden is a great relief, despite the deafening landing and the few pieces that fell off the spaceship. A small group of surprised neighbors is waiting to welcome me. It’s great to be home.
The spaceship is now parked in the garage. I’m not sure I’ll be using it again.
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3,633
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Write about two characters who each want to change the same thing, but resolve to go about it in very different ways.
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Jumping without a Parachute
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The Toyota came to a gear grinding halt before the silver gates of the Saving Faith Care Facility. The door hiccupped as the driver stepped out, taking the keys to the ignition with him. The old girl was so battered, he couldn’t fathom anyone in their right might would steal it, but habits won over logic any day of the week. From the back seat, he took a tangled mass of bright blue blanket. It was lighter than he imagined, and it deepened his frown. From the mass of fabric stuck out a once brilliant brown face, the mahogany shade lost to the ashy tint of illness.
“It’s alright. We’re here now.” His fear that he would once again have to mourn the death of hope made his voice gruff.
“Can they help me?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Sweets.”
A tall man came out of the gates, his faint smile not at all softening the immense brow-bone that made him look meaner than a heavyweight boxer. He didn’t wave, just stood there and stared at them, gleaming eyes shining from the shadows.
“I don’t know,” he repeated, kissing his daughter’s forehead. “But we’re going to keep looking if they can’t.”
The tall man, whose name tag read Seyit, said with an octave that weighed on the listener like a ton of lead, “Good day, Mr. Sagal. This must be Grace.”
He nodded. Sweets burrowed deeper into the blanket, making herself small. His arms tightened around her, acknowledging that the man in fact creeped the heck out of him too.
“Ms. O is waiting for you inside. Please, come in.”
They walked a short path, surrounded on both sides by trees with wilting leaves. It was the time of year for that, but it still felt like an ominous sign. The manor loomed ahead, reddish-brown weepy stains trailing down from the roof, silhouettes shifting like ghosts behind thin curtains. Up marble steps, through a pair of towering double doors, they came to the foyer.
The man’s brows rose. Twin stairs with polished brass rails led to the upper landing, where a chandelier hung before massive floor to ceiling windows. The crystals dangling from thin gold chains split the light into a multitude of colors. His breath caught in his throat. Then the stench of antiseptic hit him like a dump truck loaded with reality. He eyed the cracks revealed by the peeling wallpaper and the vacant reception desk. The director, Ms. O, had warned the facility was struggling like every other institution in these trying times. Suppressing a sigh, he kissed his daughter’s forehead again, an act which had become as familiar as his mama clutching her prayer beads whenever grief overwhelmed her. With him being the only surviving children out of four, it was often.
“This way.” Seyit began climbing up the stairs.
The high-ceilinged hallway created a cave-like effect: the coughing, hacking, moaning pooled from all the levels of the mansion, cascaded down the stairs, and boomed in the foyer below. He felt Sweets’ hand clutching his shirt.
“It’s alright, it’s alright.” He rocked her in his arms. Several months ago, he wouldn’t have been able to do that, but she’d lost so much weight. Surely, the place wasn’t as bad as it looked, smelled, or sounded.
Along the way to the director’s office, they stumbled upon a pool of red liquid that stank like blood.
“Is that—”
“I’ll mop that up later.” Seyit kept on walking as if blood on the tiles was his day-to-day stuff.
Sensing his hesitation, Sweets stuck a finger out, pointing down the hallway. “You’re falling behind.”
He looked down into those dark brown eyes, titled at the corners like a cat’s. A weak smile tugged at his lips. If she could cling on to this sliver of hope, he could too.
Seyit held the door open for them, this time adding teeth to his creepy grin. They were small in his mouth, as if his milk teeth had never fallen out.
Ms. O, thankfully, looked entirely normal, other than her ashy complexion. She motioned for them to sit on the two leather seats across from her desk. Her gaze was of those solid stuff nurses in hospice had. The ones that combined shared grief, kindness, and a no-nonsense acceptance of the realities of living.
“Welcome, Mr. Sagal. I hope your, and Grace’s, trip was pleasant.”
“It was.” He nodded, pretending his car’s suspensions weren’t as wasted as they were.
“Will your wife be joining us today?”
“No. She’s at work. I was furloughed.” He swallowed; it didn’t get any easier saying it.
“So you’re Grace’s primary caregiver.”
“I feed, clothe, and bathe.” Sweets punched his chest, her touch soft due to lack of muscles. At seven, she didn’t like him saying out loud that she needed help to do the basics. He hugged the bundle sitting on his knees. He didn’t mean any harm by stating the truth, which seemed to hurt them both anytime they opened to strangers.
A silence filled the gulf for a moment, Ms. O’s gaze never flinching. Having seen whatever she wished to see, she asked, “May I examine her?”
“Of course.”
She took Sweets with the utmost care and placed her on the desk. The little girl crumbled to a lying position, no longer able to sit upright on her own.
Ms. O propped Sweets by placing an arm around her and took a flask from the table. “Would you like a drink?”
Sweets must have said yes, cause she started pouring whatever was inside into a tiny cup. He wanted to see what it was, but the angle she held the bottle over the cup prevented him. After drinking whatever that was, the director dropped Sweets on the chair beside him to sit on her own.
When he tried to put the blanket back on, she told him it wouldn’t be necessary. But Sweets was shivering, despite the lack of air conditioning and the closed windows.
“She should be fine in a minute or two.”
He wanted to ask why, but kept shut when he saw the intense focus Ms. O had on Sweets. Slowly but surely, Sweets raised her head from its tilted position. A spark lit her eyes, then she scrunched her face.
“This place stinks.”
The director smiled. “My apologies. Most people here have lost their sense of smell.”
He stared at the both of them. “How?”
“I gave her blood to drink.”
“What!”
The director stepped closer at the same time he stood up, anticipating his anger. Even with her low heels on, she was a head taller than he was. “You can see that it works.”
“You gave her blood.” He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.
“Human blood to be precise. It’s the only palliative for those with this vampiric affliction.”
He could feel his nerves throbbing, an overflow of anger that would leave him with a headache later. But then a small hand wrapped around his.
“I feel better.” Sweets stared at him, measuring and absorbing whatever she saw.
He inhaled and looked down at the floor. She didn’t understand the gravity of what she’d drank. The thought of it made him nauseous, and the image of the pool of blood at the hallway flickered back to him. “This is sick.”
“Yet it works. I, Seyit, and many others in this facility are proof of that.” Ms. O stood firm, daring him to oppose her.
They’d gone to nearly a dozen pediatricians and specialists, burning through their savings during a recession till they were broke with nothing to show for all their effort. All the while, Sweets’ condition had deteriorated. His shoulders deflated, because he couldn’t.
“What about the moans and the screeches?” He waved his arms around. “If it’s working—”
“There’s a constant shortage of blood for regular hospitals, what makes you think it’s easy for a facility like ours to get them?”
He ran a hand through his thinning hair. A few strands clung to his fingers.
“Human blood alleviates the symptoms of the condition, but the effects are like that of a painkiller. Prolonged use means the patient requires higher doses. It's a sad yet hard truth we live with.”
He collapsed into his seat. His heart ached with fatigue, not only physically but the kind that shadowed the soul. “Why?”
“A fault in the genes like any other hereditary disease.”
“But neither my wife and I, nor anyone else has this.”
“Not everyone’s condition will manifest into extremes.” The director resumed her sitting position, calm across the desk as if she had delivered this news a million times.
Remembering his siblings’ deaths, all before their third birthdays, made him shudder. He felt as if he were being crushed. Only Sweets taking his hand lessened the sensation. She seemed cheerful, maybe because of the blood, or for finally receiving a diagnosis, however other-worldly, for her condition.
“But aren’t vampires strong?” his daughter asked.
“Well, you’re not a vampire, Sweets? If I may call you that.” Sweets nodded. “What you have is a condition. You are still a human being.”
“That sucks.”
“It does.”
The director gave him time to digest the news before landing another blow. Since they were low on blood, the facility could not support Sweets. His daughter could come every Saturday, when the facility held a picnic for those who could not live in the manor to socialize and connect with those in similar circumstances. She advised him to ask his wife to come, so she could deliver the news. It had gone pretty much the same way it had gone over with him.
Months passed and as Ms. O warned, Sweets developed a higher tolerance and required more blood, more than either he or his wife could provide themselves.
One night, as his wife lay sleeping, cradling Sweets to her, he found himself scrolling through the depths of Google’s search results. He had so many tabs open, he wasn’t sure which page was where or why he’d opened them in the first place. At this point, he was willing to take even the slimmest of chances, and he found it like an angel answering his prayers.
So he was back in Ms. O’s office two weeks later, this time without Sweets.
“We’re taking a chance.”
“No, you’re gambling with her life.” The director’s tone had a finality to it that irked him. Who was she to deny them their hope when she had no alternatives other than more blood?
He opened his mouth to argue, but could not find a winning strategy. “What then?” His voice cracked. “Are we supposed to let her suffer?”
“You’re doing the best you can at the moment. I too want what’s best for your daughter.”
“But it’s not enough. And it’s getting harder by the day.” He looked away, unable to face someone with his features distorted by pain, tears streaming down his cheeks. They had so much wrenched away from them. This one simply couldn’t die like this.
“I understand your pain, believe me, I do, but it’s not your life, it’s hers. It’s not your body, it’s hers.”
“And she wants to take a chance.”
“For her sake or yours?”
He exhaled, turned his back to the director. “We’re not asking for your blessings, Ms. O, and I didn’t come to argue either.” His voice now carried the finality the director’s had shown before.
She sighed, a long and loud exhale. One tired being to another understood what it meant. “Whatever happens, we’re here for you. Our doors are always open to kindred folks.”
“Appreciated.” Without looking back or a parting greeting, he left. Sweets was waiting in that scrap of a Toyota. Heavens help them, chased to the cliff’s edge, they were jumping without a parachute.
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9,566
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Write a story about two people who meet and become instant friends.
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LUCKY SEAT FOR ME
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Preston has been sitting inside the bus for almost an hour. Just one seat was left and it was right beside him. He looked at his watch, he was going to be late again, he wanted to be late after all. His father invited him to one of his fancy club meetings again, He was always fond of it every single week though Preston sees it as a waste of precious time he would rather be spending on his computer. Tired as they all were the bus driver decided to move on, but someone hit the bus from behind'' wait!''Just then a girl with scarf on her head and huge glasses came in and sat next to him. She smelled of one of the local soup he use to like.'' Lucky seat for me, thank God.''He looked away and stared at his iPad hoping to finish the movie he started watching a while back. Suddenly he heard a familiar ringtone and thought it was his phone. He put his hand in his pocket to retrieve it, but it stopped ringing and the girl beside him started talking into her own device. Her voice was so loud he had to turn up the volume of his iPad to cut her out but it didn't work. Time went on and soon the girl stopped talking. Finally peace....She gasped '' oh my God, he shouldn't go down there.''Her voice was so close to him that he almost jumped. He quickly removed his earpiece and looked at her. She was peering at his phone.'' Sorry, I just love horror movies.'''' How do you know its horror movie?''She rolled her eyes'' Well, The darkness lurking in the background. Plus, I could totally hear what they were saying through the earpiece, you might want to turn it down a little it can actually damage your ears, if you are not okay with that you might only use one part of the earpiece, it'd be just fine.''Okay, definitely a chatterbox, Preston thought as she kept on talking about people taking risks with earphones in their ears as they cross the street or drive.'' I'm so sorry, where are manners , I'm Amanda.'''' I'm Preston.''She just stared at him with a smile plastered on her face. He was used to people staring at him weird.'' Wow, I don't meet Prestons everyday.'''' I hardly come across Amandas too.''He remarked.She gasped and acted surpriced '' Here I am thinking I have a common name. '' She smiled '' Its actually short for Chimamanda.'''' You are Igbo.''It was almost an exclamation.'' Yes, and you are not'' She looked him up and down '' With your curly hair and pointed nose''She almost touched it, would he have allowed her?'' Not a typical Nigerian kind of look.'''' My dad is from Akwa ibom.'''' Wow'' Her smile got bigger '' And whats your native name?'' Preston shook his head and gave a small smile. She liked that he smiled a small smile.'' Nah, its a weird name.'' '' I've heard a lot of weird names. Seriously.''He stared at her and she still held that wide smile. Like the one at the beginning of the ride. Somehow that encouraged him.'' Idiongo.''She stifled a laugh, something about the way he pronounced it made it weird. It was actually one of her friends name.'' See, I told you, it was weird.''But he still smiled. He was surpriced that he could tell a total stranger his native name, something he had never done before. '' So any way, idiongo I -'''' Don't call me that.'''' I can't help it, its a nice name''That hit a soft spot he didn't realize was there. For the rest of the ride she went on and on. He realized she had a think for technology and science. She talked about the changing climate and the increase in air pollution. She was on a plant-a-tree-a- month campaign. And she volunteers at the wide life resort from time to time. Preston actually never thought a girl could be so interesting. She was on cloud nine while she talked about all the amazing things she does. Before she got down from the bus she placed her phone on his hand and told him to put in his number. Something a Nigerian girl find really hard to do. She is something. He said to himself after she got down. He looked down at his iPad and realized he was watching a movie before they started talking.Amanda was spending the weekend at her Aunty's place for the eighth week in a role. At least she had peace of mind away from the all the troubles at home. And at least mother would have less mouth to feed and she would have time for her activities. She thought of Preston. Calm and a good listener. He listened to everything about her boring life and activities, when she brings up the topic to her family they always told her to tune it down or they would just walk away.She thought of calling him, no that would be too pushy, she just settled for a good night text After a few minutes, he texted her saying they were showing her favourite Horror movie on DSTV. She smiled when she saw it but Aunty Chinenye didn't have decoder. The next morning she found out that he followed her Environmental conservation page on Facebook. She didn't waste time, she invited him for one of their programs that evening. To her surpriced he came.She saw him as she ended her speech''You came!'' She squealed as she joined him at the back.''Sorry I was late.'' He apologized. He thought she looked so small on stage but she gave a good speech.'' I love your speech any way.''She smiled and faced the stage'' I have to put in more effort, I need to get the scholarship.'''' for what?'''' For school silly.'' She smiled '' My mother doesn't have the resources.''He stared at her'' My parents are divorced.''His case was similar too. His mother left him with his father for over 10 years now. He thought she would always come back but she didn't.'' I don't even know if my parents are divorced, My mother left my dad.'' Preston thought he gave out a lot of personal information.'' I'm so sorry.'''' Its okay.'' She smiled '' Thanks for showing interest in my Facebook page.'''' Lots of interesting science stuff there, the page Is great.''She fully faced him '' Really? I can't wait to start a website.'''' I can help you with that.''She couldn't believe it. She squealed in delight like a ten year old'' You'd do that?'''' What are friends for?''A week later, Preston sat inside the bus waiting for it to fill up, one last chair to go. He remembered that Amanda would take her scholarship exam that day. He'd seen her, she had worked really hard for it, going to the library everyday and learning a whole bunch of science words. It was almost nine and the exam starts by ten. He hoped she was already there. Just as the bus was leaving, someone hit it from the back.'' Wait!''Just then Amanda entered and heaved a sign of relief'' Lucky seat for me, Thank God.'' Preston smiled and as if on cue she looked at him and eyes widen in delight.'' Preston, so good to see you.'' He just beamed at her '' So good to see you too Amanda.''
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8,946
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Write a story about someone coming to terms with how different they are from their younger self.
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Last Seen on the Corner of Melonbee and Fig
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Stop looking for me, Vivian. I command you. Your efforts are futile and beginning to border on idiotic. I can no longer stand it—watching you and your makeshift search crew of suburban moms pace up and down Melonbee and Fig Street, looking for the very being who terrorized you for years.With my omniscient feline eye, I'm aware of everything happening in this and every moment—the neon green LOST CAT signs stapled to the necks and torsos of the weeping cherry trees; your Lululemon-clad troop of PTA moms flooding every rosebush with the flashlight of their bedazzled iPhones, calling ‘here Kitty-Kitty.’ Well, guess what? Kitty-Kitty is dead. Gone. Finito.*voice deepens*My new name is Maximillian, and I have successfully reincarnated into my seventh of nine lives.Compared to my previous life, I am much better off now. I am no longer the scraggly, rescue tabby cat you knew in my sixth life. Rather, I am a wealthy purebred Maine Coon whose shiny red coat is an immense improvement from my formerly dull, gray shag.These days, I reside in the heart of Milan with my wealthy Italian cat father Tommaso. I eat sun-dried lamb on premium tableware and wear a gold-plated collar more expensive than your engagement ring. My meow, which in my previous life was nothing more than a weak, tiny squeak, is now the deep, husky voice of a Ford commercial. Still, even after my seventh reincarnation, I do not completely understand the rules and laws governing my nine lives. All I know is that every cat is promised nine, and that we never know who or where we will be until we get there. Looking back at my past six lives, I have been everything from a purebred Persian to a conglomerate of other conglomerates. I have been both male and female; a revered Egyptian Mau from 3100 B.C.E., and also a model for wet food cans.However, this seventh life is my best by far. Like in all my other lives, I simply eat, play, but spend most of my hours lounging on a blanket doing absolutely nothing—only I’m rich. Sometimes, when I inevitably get bored, I like to imagine my lives as a row of video-game hearts floating above my head. When one nears its end, it begins to blink, then flutter, until, just like that, it gives out and vanishes completely.❤️ ❤️ 💔I have three lives left—or so I thought. By the time I open my eyes one afternoon, some twenty-one years after my sixth life, I am down to two hearts. I do not remember how I died. All I know is that I am somewhere completely unknown to me. A white-walled cubby surrounds me, and my only window is a plastic screen poked with breathing holes. In vain, I try to push it down, but my paws are no longer the beastly hands of a Maine Coon. They are small, perhaps the smallest they've ever been in all my lives, and are only good for knocking over unattended beverages and lightly slapping the faces of those who vex me. From my plastic-screen window, I see rows of other cubbies, also containing my fellow nine-livers, all at different stages in their journey. I am unusually itchy and conclude I must have fleas. To ease my discomfort, I bat around a pathetic purple ball of fluff—my only source of entertainment at the moment. Sugar Ray plays in the background, and I notice a paper taped to my window. A woman, perhaps even more infuriating than Vivian, approaches my cubby and reads the paper on my window in a voice that makes my ears twitch: HI. MY NAME IS CRUSTY. WILL YOU PLEASE BE MY FRIEND? I back into a corner and hiss, but it does not deter her. She must be one of those women who are exclusively drawn to assholes.She starts to get closer now—so close I can see the gaping, oozing pores on her nose. Her hot-pocket breath fogs up my tiny plastic window as she garbles in baby speak, as if I am not an entire seven lives older than her. I close my eyes, and in deep concentration, try to teleport back into my sixth life. I imagine myself as Maximilian once again, eating a fresh cut of rainbow trout from my very own tableware . . . And . . . it works. With my eyes still shut, in a desperate state of meditation, a strange, mysterious voice appears: “When they close their eyes like that,” it says, “it means they love you.” I open my eyes. The loud hot-pocket woman is still there, even closer now. “He loves me?” she asks stupidly.“Yes,” replies the owner of the other voice, a pet-store assitant. “Crusty loves you.” ❤️ ❤️It’s hard not to question the depths of your existence when you find yourself crushed under the humid armpit of a sixty-eight-year-old woman, watching the same Hallmark movie you've seen ten times already.As a means of escape from my current pitable existence, I reminisce about my past lives—when I was five lives younger, four lives younger, even two lives younger, when Vivian was my mother, and I spent my days commiting premeditated reptiliian murder and lounging atop the warm sparkling car hoods on Melonbee and Fig.Hot-pocket woman, my new mother, whose real name is Pam, wears the same mayonaise-stained Tweety Bird shirt every day. Her house reeks of frozen dinners and nicotine, and she spends most of her time squeezing me into knitted beanies and humiliating homemade costumes against my will. One time she dressed me as a bumblebee, and last Christmas, I was Santa Claws. She likes to bury me into her sweaty, low-hanging mammary glands while declaring that I am the only good man in her life. Meanwhile, I plan how I will kill her. Perhaps in her sleep. Perhaps with blunt force to her oddly shaped head. But perhaps I will not have to kill her, after all. I overhear her on the phone with my vet one afternoon, and apparently I have tapeworm. Fortunately, it's not looking good.In my last moments as Crusty the flea-infested domestic shorthair, Pam forces my livid, fuzzy face into a knitted baseball cap. She covers me with moist, loud smooches, and I pray for the tapeworm to take me away. ❤️Hey, Vivian. I know I told you to stop looking for me and stuff, but—apparently, I’ve circled back to my fifth life in my ninth life, which I didn’t know was possible, so . . . are we cool? I kind of need a place to crash tonight, and it’s cold out here. Anyway, I didn’t mean to be rude earlier. So, could you, like, fix me up a plate of Friskies maybe? You know, the Extra Chunky Gravy with Turkey one. I’m pretty hungry. You’re actually getting closer now. Keep walking. Yes. You see me. Your mouth drops open, and with a blue acrylic nail, you point at me, wordless.
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7,382
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Write a story that weaves together multiple lives through their connection to a particular tree.
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Leaf Song
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The wind caresses me on this summer night, and my extremities clap in response to its stimulating touch. We have been playing this game for a long time. What a tease it is, but I can’t help but dance anyway, sometimes with my whole being...or at least the part of me that lives above the ground. My friends, the other trees, dance, as well, and together we sing with our leaves, in time with the gusts and flows of whichever wind blows on that day. When the wind is blowing from the East, we dance the delicate dance of spring buds and all things green. When the wind is blowing from the South, we dance the frenzied, powerful dance of summer storms. When the wind is blowing from the West, we dance the graceful, soothing dance of flowing water. And when the North wind blows, we dance the dark dance of death.
All of our dances are important, just as all of the seasons are. Death is necessary, and feeds life. Many of us trees live a long time, and get to experience that firsthand. We see how the dead- the dead leaves, the dead animals, and even the dead trees- are devoured by insects and fungi, broken down and turned into nutritious soil, just waiting for new life to begin the cycle again. Standing still for long periods of time, and having hearts which beat in tune to the rhythm of the forest, us trees are ideally suited to observe all the mysteries of life, and death. It doesn’t make us sad, even as we fight to survive. We think it’s beautiful.
Living in the forest is an adventure, even though I’m rooted in place. Every day is different. Birds come and birds go. Some just rest on my branches for a few moments while they call to their kin, while some build their homes upon my upper branches, and raise their young there. I do enjoy the excitement of supporting those little families! Sometimes, I see generation after generation grow within my benevolent embrace. Their chirps and calls add another dimension to the songs me and my friends sing.
I’m not that crazy about the squirrels, and the way they run up and down me like fools, piercing me with their little claws, and getting into loud tiffs with one another, day after day...but they’re squirrels, what can you do? They have their uses. Their tiny brains are too small to store data on all the seeds and nuts they bury for safekeeping...so sometimes, they end up planting trees! They are, in fact, little beady-eyed tree planters, and deserve some credit for that.
Some days, mushroom spores blow through the air and land upon my skin, then grow into strange, colourful growths...they’re kind of like accessories for trees. What’s interesting is that no two mushrooms are exactly alike. There are different families of mushrooms and they share characteristics but they grow into so many unique shapes! I get along with most fungi, though some are really selfish and like to absorb the nutrients I work so hard to make without giving me anything in return. Luckily, they don’t tend to live very long, as fungi are particular about their environment, so come dry or cold weather, they die.
Then, of course, there are insects...many, many different types of insects...running up and down my bark, tickling me, moving things around the forest, breeding, breaking down dead things, eating. They’re mostly okay, though some burrow inside me, and start devouring me from the center, exposing me to diseases, and worst case scenario, death. When that happens, when I feel threatened, I send signals to my kin, through our underground network, to beware. That way, they have a chance to toughen up their skin, and prevent the bad bugs from getting in. We look after our own.
The forest floor is much more complex than most people realize. Sometimes, I try to reach out to the other trees with my branches, but most often, I connect through my roots. I spread them out far around me, and far below, seeking out the nutrients in the soil, life-giving water, and the company and support of my fellow trees. Our network is vast, spreading everywhere beneath the forest floor, and allows us to more easily adapt to whichever challenges arise. And of course, my roots allow me to keep tabs upon my children who sprout up between my feet and grow up beside me.
Where I live, near the water, the beavers are probably the worst threat to our survival, with their big gnashing teeth and their propensity for chewing at our flesh even when they don’t need to construct new homes. Why else would they stop halfway through their decapitation? Or perhaps they simply get tired, or lose interest? At least a few of the humans around here have seen fit to protect some of us with netting to dissuade their gnawing. It goes to show that humans aren’t all bad.
No, humans aren’t all bad. Some of them respect us, honouring us with libations and offerings, hugging us, and speaking our praises. They depict us in their stories and in their art, recognizing our importance. Some of them plant us in their yards, and care for us, valuing our flowers and our fruit and the shade we provide for them. Some of them plant whole orchards, or forests of us, toiling away in the hot summer sun. Some of them seek to protect us, even going so far as to stand in front of others who seek to slaughter entire villages of us with their big, noisy, metal machines. I want to ask those other humans where they think they would be without us? Who would clean the air for them? Who would keep the planet from overheating?
And what sort of world would it be, without the music the wind makes as it passes through our leaves?
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9,326
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Write a story about two people who need each other, but are too stubborn to admit it.
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Leave This Town
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My only defense was to write down every word they said. There was no way in hell that I was going to let anyone in town gaslight me. I was always getting into all sorts of trouble because of Brookline's horrible scandals. My name is Corinna Sylvia Gardner, but everyone around the Worchester area calls me “The Wild One.” Corinna isn’t my real name; it’s Margaret. I legally changed it to Corinna so that I would become more badass. I guess that is one of the benefits about having a birthday before summer arrives.It was almost as if I needed trouble in the sense to feel alive. The academia of Boston University bored me to death: I was never a fan of the frat parties, the desperate women who looked like the mediocre Baddies on Instagram, or even the pathetic loser who dressed up for Halloween every year near Brookline as the "Dancing Jester." Who the hell would ever want to be the Dancing Jester? On top of that, I need to be at Coachella. Thankfully, I would be spared going to Boston’s 14th Annual Hearty Party.God, the names just keep becoming worse... I thought as I shook my head, allowing my luscious brown locs sweeping from side to side. It may have not been Paris or Monte Carlo, but Brookline, Massachusetts had its own perks. Deep down, I really love the vibrant colors that my favorite season had to offer. Fall was the perfect time of year for me to not worry about bundling up for the beginning of winter’s wrath. There was also no obsessing over the ludicrous heat temperature that choked everyone’s throats every summer. If it was up to me, it would be fall all day every day.The biggest thing I have been grateful for was the fact that I don’t have to be at my boyfriend’s dysfunctional house anymore. I feel really bad for Sy. The Jacksons were so awful they made the family from This Boy’s Life seem like a fairy tale. Ironically, that was one of Sy’s favorite films. His real name is Samuel Jacob Jackson, but everyone always calls him “Sly Sy.” I thought it was very fitting. Sly Sy and The Wild One, always causing havoc around each environment they entered!Despite the fact that Sy and I had lived next door to each other since we were children, they didn’t start dating until their senior year of high school. By the time we had broken the news to everyone, no one was that surprised to find out about our relationship. I’m more surprised at the fact that neither Sy nor I (hey, that rhymes!) were able to say the “L” bomb towards each other. His family wasn’t exactly picture perfect, but mine didn’t model that epic love story you hear about in movies and romance books either.Our friend, and former Science teacher, Muriel Emerson was holding onto the territory around here. Her job was to be in charge of the diner, Danby Restaurant, around Brookline’s wonderful vast environment of 1940s music, red dining booths, and a warm picture of Elvis Presley on the walls. I had known Muriel since my sophomore year of high school. She had gotten into the restaurant industry after her father died of lung cancer last summer. She even gave us a hug after finding out about our news.I always loved hanging out with Muriel after school“Will you make me the maid of honor at your wedding?”We laughed at her becoming a mini-bride on our wedding day.“Sure,” I said, laughing more at that little fantasy. “Just don’t steal my bridal thunder.” Even though it seemed far from now, I never felt more intimate with the man that I planned to spend the rest of my life with. Alright, enough with the sappy talk, Gardner. Pull yourself forever. The plane was two hours late. I had to haul my sorry behind through the slow traffic before I had entered the Boston International Airport to fly towards California.Sy was doing his best to hold onto my heavy luggage. “Don’t worry, babe. The sooner this plane lands, the sooner we leave the frigid West Coast.”He took a glance at me. It felt like he wanted to say something more. But he hesitated and glanced down on the floor with his gorgeous blue eyes. Sy didn’t know this, but I have wanted him to say these words to me:Corinna, we have been together for over four years. Even though we are about to graduate high school, and everyone around us is insane, would you marry me?Time has never really been my best friend. It was an elusive concept. Personally, it’s an overrated one to me. How can you be obsessed every moment about where to go, who to meet, or whether Bobby Thompson was able to go to third base with you at the back of the bleachers during your annual football game?Don’t ask.Hopefully this airplane will come sooner than later. Sy will do anything to get away from his family. They weren’t always an awful family. He’s never really been the type to be vulnerable in front of others. The only family member that we seemed to tolerate in our presence was Tiffany Yu. She was Sy’s grandfather’s wife and had emigrated from Japan. Sy’s grandfather was the notable Gregory Simpleton Jackson, the head honcho that had created the most famous Simpleton-Jackson coffee brand in America. Personally, I think they’re the only people that really understand where we are coming from in regards to the dynamics of a happy, loving home.Too bad all of that went up in smoke. Surprisingly, Grandpa Jackson wasn’t the one who ruled with an iron fist. It was his daughter, Porsha Kathy Carol. The last straw for both of us was the time he invited his mother to dinner. She had this sadistic habit of making Henry cry. Henry is Sy’s half-brother. He had been born seven years before Porsha had met their father, Ryan Christopher Jackson. She was a beauty pageant queen back in her home state Arizona. She was able to win second place in four beauty pageants by the time she was 23 years old. While she wasn’t what I would call a toxic person, that condescending attitude about being better than everyone else used to piss the both of us off. Even though I personally believe that money can buy you happiness, it sure doesn’t buy you a better attitude for some people. For some insane reason, she seemed threatened by the fact that Ryan had been with another woman before either of them met.Sy begged me not to say anything, but I didn’t care. If you love making children cry, you deserve to get your ass kicked.“Hey Porsha, were you always this overweight, manipulative, dramatic bitch or did the doctors just make you born that way?”I swear to God, her jaw dropped. We both walked out of the house and high fived each other. Sy kissed me with such passion that day I thought we were going to have sex outside before the cops arrested us for public indecency. It would have been totally worth it though. Still, we didn’t say “I love you” to each other then.We plan on going to California to become real estate brokers. It was always our dream and we planned on achieving it.While we were on the plane, Sy looked at me. He seemed serious.“Corinna...”Great. I’m being dumped. Romance isn’t real, kids. It’s just a lie Disney loves to tell us.“I love you so much. I know my family isn’t what you expected it to be. Sometimes I would be so scared that I would push you away. We’re a real family soap opera, huh?”Holy crap! I’m not being dumped after all. Woohoo!!! I didn’t know what to say. I was speechless. I was like a fish gasping for air, but in a good way.I wanted to reply back that I loved him too, but instead, I asked something else.“Why did it take you so long to tell me this?”Sy arched his eyebrows and cocked his head. His brown hair was usually nice to look at. Now I wanted to mess it up.“I wanted to, but I wanted you to say it first.”I shook my head at that laughable idea. “Why do I need to do the heavy lifting? I may have kissed you first, but that doesn’t mean I need to take the lead in this tango. Men should be gentlemen for a reason.”Sy almost got angry. I hated when he acted this way. I was supposed to be his protector, not his own specialized vial of toxic poison.“Oh my God, babe...this isn’t helping. We cannot become like our parents, especially mine. They practically defined the word ‘dysfunction’ from the moment that I was born!”I noticed a few airplane guests next to us. They didn’t seem to notice our little squabble.Sy saw me take a deep breath. He knew that I always took deep breaths when I needed to get my anxiety under control.“How about this? Let’s just put both of our stubborn egos aside and admit that we both can’t live without each other. Sy, all I care about is spending the rest of my life with you.”We both smiled at each other. How can we stay so stubborn at each other? I guess it’s not surprising given the fact that one of us is a Taurus and the other person is a Leo. We are going to be rich and take California by storm. The world won’t stop us now. No dysfunctional family would get in the way of that. Muriel, our trusted friend, was able to keep a secret fund of $800,000,000. It touched me so much that she would donate so much money to us. The best part is that our backstories are simply a cover up to always get people off our backs for a very long time. Money can buy happiness sometimes.
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8,534
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Write about a reluctant party-goer who ends up being the star of the show.
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Lisa Finally Goes to a Party
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Lisa a young high school student at seventeen years old just moved. To a new school not knowing anyone there she kept to her self. She is a shy girl does not talk to anyone all she does is go to school and comes home. Her mother is worried about her because she use to be so out going. She played on the basketball team she went to parties. But she no longer does any of that and her mom does not know why.
She has asked Lisa a couple of times but all Lisa does is shrug her shoulders. Lisa’s mother try’s to get her out more doing stuff to make friends. After a few months in school Lisa starts to come out of her shy bubble. Every so often in the hall’s of the school people say high to her. Lisa of course says high back after a few more short exchanges. In the hall she starts talking to people and making friends.
But Lisa still wont go any where probably because she is not that well known. Or she does not know that many people. One day when the school year is half over Lisa is at her locker. A young man walks up to her saying.
Young man: ( Hello Lisa right?)
Lisa: ( Yes I am Lisa. Who are you?)
Young man: ( Oh I am sorry I am Ben.)
Lisa: ( Well hi Ben. What do you want?)
Ben: ( Well I am having a party this weekend. I wanted to know if you would come so you could meet people. Possibly make some more friends.)
Lisa: ( Well thanks for the invite but I do not know. I am a new person at this school I do not think it be a good idea.)
Ben: ( It is a good idea you will meet people. Make new friends if you are worried it is a prank and people will bully you. They wont not at my party my dad is a cop and does not go for any of that.)
Lisa : ( Okay let me think it over.)
Ben: ( That is all I want. Here is my address if you need a ride let me know.)
Lisa: ( Okay.)
The bell rings everyone heads back to class Lisa has a big smile on her face. As she goes back to class her friends see this Lisa sits down. Her friends whisper to her asking her why she is smiling Lisa whispers back. Telling them what happened in the hall her friends look at her shocked.
Friend: ( You need to go.)
Lisa: (I don’t know. Why should I go?)
Friend: ( Well if you go that mean we can go.)
Lisa: ( I have not been to a party in forever.)
Friend: ( We have your back girl. Do not worry.)
Lisa: ( Okay let me think it over. I will let you know by supper time tonight.)
School goes on Lisa can barely pay attention to any of the teacher’s. With the thought of the party in the back of her mind. Trying to decide to go or not she does not want to let her friends down. By not going to the party on the other hand she just does not like parties.
School finally ends her friends trying to track her down. But they can not find her any where. Lisa has her head down walking through school she skips going to her locker. As she heads straight out the door skips getting on the bus deciding to walk home. She just wants left alone as she struggles to make her decision about this party.
On her walk home she is back and forth about it trying to weigh out. The good and bad about this party she moved here with her mom. Because of what happened at the last party. She bullied at that party because of who she hung out with. At that school if you was not popular you was nothing. Lisa was popular at that school but she hung out with unpopular people.
Lisa go bullied so bad she could not even walk down the street in her town. Without being made fun of her mom, did the only thing she could which was move. But this party she thought maybe just maybe be different. But in the back her mind saying ( no it wont be different it is going to be the same.) This place has to be different not every place is the same she hoped.
Lisa arrives home walks in the door drops her school stuff on the table. Looks at her mom she notices her mom had a worried look on her face. Lisa says.
Lisa: ( Mom what is wrong.)
Mom: (Your friend called the could not find you at school. Plus you was not on the bus what happened.)
Lisa: ( Oh I am sorry I did not mean to worry you. I had to think so I wanted left alone.)
Mom: ( Why? What happened? Did something happen at school?)
Lisa: ( Well you could say that. I got invited to go to a party.)
Mom: ( Really! That is great sweetie.)
Lisa: ( Really mom? Did you forget what happened at the last party?)
Mom: ( No sweetie. I did not. But you can not hold that against the kids here.)
Lisa: ( Mom! It is on the internet. They probably seen it and just want to make fun of me.)
Mom: ( Your friend and I had a long discussion about this party. I also told them what happened to you at the last school.)
Lisa: ( WHY MOM! )
Mom: ( Because they deserve to know what happened to you. Also for the reason you are acting the way they you are. They also told me who invited you and that his dad does not leave during the party. Also that these people who invited you do not put up with bullying. You need people like this in your life so end of discussion you are going.)
Lisa: ( Okay mom.)
After supper Lisa’s friends show up to her house eagerly waiting for party time. Slowly time tick’s by finally the time has come they all pile into her moms car. Lisa gets so nervous as they move closer and closer. To Ben’s house they round the corner to his house. It is like the entire school is here all three girl’s walk up to the door. You can hear the music from down the block there is a paper on the door. That reads ( Come on in).
Lisa look’s at her two friends turns the door knob walking in. The music shuts off everyone looks over at the door sees Lisa and her friend. Ben walk’s up to Lisa grabs her hand lightly pulling her to the center of the room. Ben looks at everyone Lisa’s stomach begins turn hurt. As Lisa thinks to herself ( Oh great here we go again I new I should not have come. I told my mom this would happen. I am about to be bullied again. All because they seen it on the internet why did I agree to come.) Ben begins to speak.
Ben: ( Lisa I have to admit we all seen what happened to you. At your last school we want you to know. That we are not like that everyone in this house stand against bullying. We actually stream our party live so people who get bullied. That are the out cast at their school can go to a party.)
Lisa: ( Wow really!)
Ben: ( Yes look you see that camera. You are live across the the world at a party across the world.)
Lisa’s smile disappears from her face looks to the floor.
Ben: ( What is the matter?)
Lisa: ( My old School can see this they will cause problems for me.)
Ben: ( No they will not all of us stand behind you.)
Lisa looks up at Ben with a smile the music starts playing again. Everyone is dancing drinking pop having snack’s. Everything seems to be going right for Lisa than out of no where car horns start going off. Yelling start to come from out side everyone from the party walks out side. The kids from Lisa’s last school was there one of the kids yells.
Kid: ( Hey where is that loser Lisa?)
Ben: ( None of you business. You need to leave before cops get involved.)
Kid: ( Ooooh cops like I am scared.)
Lisa walks up behind Ben grabs his are whisper’s in his ear. ( I got this I can not hide forever.) Ben looks down at Lisa whisper’s ( you do not have to this is my party I will deal with it.) Lisa walk’s to the edge of the yard looks at the car. Where the kid was yelling from look at the car with it’s head light’s on begins to say.
Lisa: ( Mike! I know that is you I remember you car.)
Mike: ( So your point is what.)
The car revs up then rolls forward Lisa remains in place not moving.
Lisa: ( My point is you have nothing better to do. Than travel three towns over just to try and bully me once again. I wonder what your girl friend would think of you coming all this way to see me.)
Mike: ( My girl friend is in the car with me.)
Lisa: ( No she is not I see three other shadows. And those shadows are the size of guys on the foot ball team.)
Mike: ( You are going to get it now.)
Mike puts the car in park gets out start to walk up to Lisa.Mike’s three friends follow him they all crowd around her. Lisa still not moving all three boys push Lisa back and forth. Calling her names none of them aware that Lisa whispered to Ben to get the camera. To film what ever happens to her so from the porch Ben is filming. Five people from the party call the cops loads more from across the internet call to.
With in minutes every cop in town show up surrounding. The house and block so no one can leave the area. After Lisa’s bully and his friends get arrested all the cops leave. The party is back on everyone is talking to Lisa getting her drinks food whatever she wanted.
Lisa became so popular that night that it carried over into the rest of the school year. From just one night standing her ground against a bully she became a bright shinning star in the school. Also one of the most popular girls in school making sure no one else ever gets bullied again. While she is around in school.
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2,663
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Write about a character who’s always thinking of things they’ll say to people, but who ends up saying very little when they finally get the chance.
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Little Mouth
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Geneviève is my name. Yes it is Geneviève very... how do you say it? "unique?" I guess. I live in a house of two parents and 13 siblings *I am one of the thirteen*, I often keep quiet and stay out of trouble even though I could blame someone else, just because I don't always or usually have a time to speak without someone interrupting or someone else is talking, since I never really talk because of this problem in my house hold, I am always called "quiet" and if I try to explain why I don't talk they will hush me and call me "rude". Besides that, I have a Best-friend forever, named Kendell. And since my name is Geneviève, Kendell just calls me Genn even though most of the time it is spell Jenn, I just go with it and I call her Deli for like a Deli where you get your milk and cheese because her name is Kendell so I made it into KenDELI so I call her Deli! Most of the time I can talk is through text or call, but... I must admit my friends usually and some what yell at their pets or family while I am on the phone with her/him, so I have a bad case of luck, if you don't know what I mean is that I never get to talk like ever! Even at school, I am with my friend group and every time I do try to talk I get "talked over". Then later on any conversation even at home when they finish they ask me what I was going to say, but I just say something different and just answer with "I like your shirt" or "oh nothing" or even "I forgot maybe later I will remember" so I never really get to answer what I want to say even if it was about getting the lead in a play or getting an A+ on a test! Well, now that I told you about my life now lets get on with the story! Like usual I woke up almost fully soaked in cold water from my 12 other siblings, then I "try" to walk down stairs even though it is full of toy cars and what-not. Once I have completed the mission of walking down stairs I get some break-feast even though all the cereals have fake bugs or toys crammed in the boxed for pranks and so on. After I found some eggs in the fridge to make I cant make them on the stove because Mom always makes Dad a full course meal for work. So I just out an egg in the bowl and heat it up for one minute and thirty seconds, when the egg is done I put it on bread with mayonnaise and lettuce and mustard! Then, I go and get my backpack on while forgetting clothes so I rush to put on clothes that I never knew I had even though I am pretty sure it is one of my sisters clothes. I put on my backpack and then hop on the bus to see my bestie on the right side sitting with the biggest tub of slime ever! We play with the slime for a while then finally get to school where the friend group is and everyone starts chatting away! A few times I try to talk but I am never heard or so I think, so later after every ones done Deli asked if I had something I was going to say and of course I did so I told her yes and she asked what I was going to say and I was going to ask if they wanna come to my house and have ice-cream and watch a movie! But I just said " I am happy to be your guys' friend". But Deli asked if that is actually what I was going to say, because she knows I don't get to talk a lot. But I just said it was actually what I was going to say and she doesn't have to worry! Then the bell rang! Which means that class starts, me and Deli have all the classes together except Music/Gym. Deli does Gym which makes sense because she is on almost all the sport teams there are that the school offers! On the other hand with a broken finger, I do music which is less active than gym but still is active. Because I play the recorder, not the video recorders like the music ones. The one I play is also made for kindergarteners because the school supposedly can't afford another one even though we just had a fundraiser for music class! Which we earned 300 dollars with the fundraiser and some how we still don't "have enough". So me and KenDeli which is also Deli if you forgot, went to English class first then Science then Social studies and then finally Math! Then it was time for Music for me and gym for Deli! Ughh how I hated having to go to music! You may be wondering why did you pick music then? Well I thought it was gonna be fun and all, but most of the class is kindergarteners so it isn't fun at all. I have to use a baby recorder while they use bigger ones, which makes no sense at all! After I got into the class room I had to fart so then once I farted all the little kids started laughing and calling me " poopy, smelly, diaper pants" which I guess they probably will always call me now. After music I saw Deli in the hall so I obviously asked how it went in gym but she didn't answer, because she was talking to her "boyfriend" which isn't fair because when we were six we made a rule "girls before boys that makes us hurls" it sounds dumb and makes no sense but it meant each other before boys. Which now means I am now LONLEY! So now I need to scavenge for other people to talk to for the next thirty minutes because obviously, her "boyfriend" is better. I walked over to this girl named Ella and she was wearing knee high socks with cats on them and an Elsa dress on with skirts under the dress instead of a can-can to make it fluffy, she also had bright red lipstick that stained her skin when she tried to itch her lips with her finger, and shoulder blade length ginger hair that was ratty at the ends, and blue eyeshadow that went all the way to her eyebrows with mascara that wasn't even close to being on the eye-lashes. I went up to her and said hi and told my name and then she responded with her name and hi! We became bestfriends and I actually got to talk, one day I asked if I could do her make-up and clothes for her, she said yes! I started with the makeup, I did foundation, then concealer, then bronzer and highlighter, then the eye-brow pencil and the blush. Once I finished the main, I did black and red eye-shadow with eyeliner, and clear glossy lip-gloss that shimmered in the light. I did the look on me as well, then we wore black and red crop-tops which the shirt was red, the straps were black, and on the bottom of the crop-top there was fake tears to make it look cool, we wore ripped jeans with that and converse, and our hair was in a high messy pony-tail. When we walked to school we picked up black mini back-packs with a gold zipper. Once we got to school everyone wanted to talk to us and hang out with us! But I have a crush I have been crushing on for more than years you could count! He walked over.... and..... he asked if I wanted to go to the spring-fling with him, I answered yes even though I knew he was finally asking me just because I am wearing something else and look different. I wanted the chance to be with him though. Saturday, the day I go to the spring-fling with my crush. Most of you probably don't know what his name is, but his name is Brett, pretty cool Huh? I was so excited I told my Mom this was the day of the spring-fling! She helped me get a wonderful white and yellow dress from Forty-Nine closet, it is where we get most of our fancy clothes! Then I had white high-heels that made me look a lot more taller. When it was around 7:03 pm Brett knocked on the door and had a wonderful looking corsage it had so many wonderful looking colors on it! Brett got the corsage out of the box and put it around my left wrist even though I think it is supposed to be the right wrist. Brett walked me to his car, while my sisters and brothers where doing whatever little kids do, Mom HAD to take a photo! I told her that we were fine and we will take photos when we go there but she didn't listen. After I got in the car Brett said that I looked so beautiful and kissed me! Like a full on kiss! For two whole minutes! Then he asked my name, which I thought he knew, but I said Geneviève but he could call me Genn. He looked at me then told me that he will call me BABE!!!???!! I thought it was cute in all but we just met! Or just introduced each other, then later when we got to the spring-fling and we were holding hands and kissing each other like the whole time we were driving! So anyways we got there and started dancing and all then he asked if I wanted to go eat dinner and I said sure so we went to a huge fancy restaurant! About nine years later we are still dating, he proposes to me in front of the whole class! I said yes, but I was shocked! We had our marriage and everything then we had children, a boy named Joshua, and a boy named Thomas. I was telling all of this because I found out that when-ever I try to talk I always say something else, and when I was with my friend Kendell she was kind of rude, and now I can now talk with what I wanted to say! And Ella is still my bestie and she is also married to a person she met at a bowling place! She has one girl named Geneviève which I thought was so sweet of her naming her after me! And when I met Ella and we were friends all of high school she let me talk when I wanted and was really supportive! So I think that my life is pretty awesome! Ever sense I went with Brett to the dance I have been more independent and started talking more, so I think some people are better for you than others!
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10,504
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Write a story that takes place in the same building but in two very different time periods.
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Look through the window of the building; Then & now
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The year is 1953, please enter this building of many, at your own risk.
This building is like so many. I wouldn't call it a "ghettto" or "living in the projects," but there are so many buildings, housing so many people, especially with a lot of children. Remember, there was no such things as birth control & so there are so many children running around, mabe even wreaking havoc.
This is right after the 2nd world war. Imagine...dad is still at work at the old factory just a few miles away. He won't be home until at least 7 P.M., while the eldest child, ( 14 yrs old & working at the same factory as dad,) will be home by 5 P.M. unless he chooses to run around with some friends, maybe have some fun, while waiting for dad to get off his shift at work. Sometimes he goes right home, other times, he waits for dad.
Meanwhile, the other five children, ( under age 14,) are just out of school and helping their mom clean the apartment. It seems that's all they do since it's a 3 bedroom apartment, it constantly needs cleaning.
But the younger children are happy since once they're done with the cleaning, they'll be allowed outside to play with all the other children. So they grab whatever they find on the ground and race after one another as if they're in a war themselves. This war is fun to them though since there are so many buildings to hide, to play, to imagine another world.
Mom, inside the apartment is just now getting some food ready to feed their large but hungry family. It's hard because of the food rations of so many items she would love to use. For instance, sugar just was taken off the ration list but not meat. So she looks into the "husband made" pantry, ( there are no refrigerators as of yet,)
She decides on a stew of mainly fresh veggies bought with the little money they have each week to spend. The good news is she has sugar. Sugar with other ingredients on hand, she makes an apple dessert.
She puts the radio on to listen to the newest news on rations, the war and jobs. She's hoping they can move, maybe in a few years to just a single family building, ( meaning instead of 40 apartments, only 15.)
The younger children, still playing outside don't realize the poverty of where they live. They just know it's so much fun. Next, they hear mom calling them in to get washed up and ready so that when dad & the 14 year old get home, they'll be ready to sit and eat as a family. They make their way up the many steps to their top apartment. On their way, the smells coming from each unit is different. They smell cabbage and potatoes in one apartment.
In another, they laugh because the odor is that of boiling socks, ( which could well be, since no one had a washer.)
As they climb the many stairs, they don't notice the grime on the walls they slide their hands up on as they make their way.
Until mom checks their hands and notices the telltale smoot and grease from the many hands of people working in the factories.
Whatever those workers do, they leave their marks from their hands, everywhere. The smell of dad and the 14 yr old coming up the stairs is unmistakeable, smoke, grease, etc...reminds mom of all the washing by hand that she'll need to do deep into the night.
Dad and the young teen cough as they enter the unit they've lived in for what seems forever. It's all the factory gunk spewing into the air and into their lungs. That's why even on the nicest day, windows remain closed.
The year is 1993, please enter this 10 condo unit building and take in the hope people read online on their Mosaic Browser, on their Unix computer, ( later known as Windows.) Watch as dad comes home with some take out food that he paid for with one of his credit cards, ( let's not talk about how much in debt he is,) while he looks up to his condo's 2nd floor windows, all open on this warm Spring day.
Look through that beautiful double-paned window he's staring at. You'll see two children playing video games on a video console. The game title is " DOOMED" and is so fun for the 2 kids, they don't notice the smell of not just Chinese food but also Lebanese food that dad is dragging upstairs.
Mom won't be home until later since she works as a major trader at a brokerage firm. She always works late. That's okay becuase the kids and hubby will have thrown their clothes into any direction while few clean dishes are ready to be plucked from the dishwasher. Okay, call her a maid or a homemaker, they call her the laundry woman, the dishwasher and the all around " keep things orderly and running nice" person.
As dad walks up to his unit, he notices how clean the halls are, how there are no bad odors emanating from other units, as it should be, costing $300 monthly just for condo fees. They actually bought the unit for $12, 545. So technically, they own it which is what confuses hubby about all the "fees."
Through that same 1953/1993 window, you'll see no smokestacks from factories, spewing enough goo, tar, gunk, what have you, to kill a few kittens, all you''ll see is sunshine, video consoles, up to date kitchen appliances, ( hardly ever used since why use them, just buy what you need with the various credit cards you now have,) and no mom at home to cook a killer meal or set up the radio or board games.
Should we all go back to those horrendous times that at the same time were also more family comforting? Or go ahead to the future, where few people, including close family, even talk, never mind have a simple meal together?
Keep looking through that window to find out!
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1,681
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Write a love story about an older couple who’ve been together since they were teenagers.
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Love Live long last= life
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author notes: I did not know what I should have done for my title and my topic dose not go that much with the story till the end. Also I want to thank cj m/cadence for helping me and showing me this website.
By: Ruby collins
Let's start from the beginning. My name is Cindy Brook ward. I am going to tell you all the tea about my old times. When I was a hot teenager. Now I am just an 87 year old grandma. Living a boring old life. Not being able to use the bathroom by myself, forgetting lots of stuff, and of course health problems. so let's get back on topic. I was going to high school and I was one of those hot and pretty nerds/weirdos. Me and my bestie Bella were so excited. We could not wait we got all are school supplies and stuff like that. "A week later." We went to school. It was great in the morning. We made a few friends and the teachers were very nice. But then around lunch it began to get rough. We thought it would be great but people just bullied us and said that we were lesbian and we were dating. So that's when I decided I wanted to be cool. I ditched Bella,I got new clothes, and got this really hot red lipstick. The next day was great. Three boys asked me out of course I only said yes to one. The hottest one obviously. Also I got invited into the cool girls squad . I had this thing after school the cool girls wanted to make sure I was Loyal enough so yeah. "After school" So they wanted me to send a picture of Bella and the picture had the words written on it freak. I hesitated and said no way. Then they said I thought you wanted to be cool, you are not going to be in the group if you don't do this and then we will just call you a loser because you are one without us. I could not stand being called a loser so I sent the picture to the whole school. They gave me this really cool headband and welcomed me in the group. I got to say it felt great. I got to sit by them at lunch, people did not mess with me, and they were really rich so I got lots of stuff from them. I noticed Bella had not been at school the whole week. I thought she was sick so I did not bother to care. But then she was not at school the next week so after school on Friday I went over to her house. I rang the doorbell no one answered so I rang it again. Her mom came two the door. I said “ Hi I noticed that Bella was not at school this week. Is she ok? I assumed she was sick.” “She didn't tell you she lives with her dad now and is going to a different school.” “ What why!” “Because there was some drama at school someone sent a picture that said freak on it to the whole school.” “oh ok if you see her tell her I miss her.” I thought in my head about all the bad things I did . I felt so bad I knew I had to do something. I went home that night. I cut all my clothes into small little pieces , I threw the hot lipstick away, and I sent Bella a message saying sorry. I did not care about being cool anymore. When I went to school I threw a head band at the cool girls and said “ her you go freaks you are just a whole tone of bullies” and I stormed off. I ate alone the next couple of weeks. but then Bella came back a couple weeks after I sent her the apogee message. when she came back I said I was vary sorry. she said I know I seen the message. She forgave me. I was so happy. I dumped my really hot boyfriend ok fine he dumped me because I was not cool enough for him he was just using me. Then got a really nice boyfriend. Also he is pretty hot. His name was Luis. He brought me anywhere I wanted to go. He always gave me love and lots of kisses. He just made me so so happy. So that's why I decided to marry him when I was older. We Had four kids, three girls and a boy. The oldest is Bella named after my best friend, then we had Claire, and then we had Lilly and Luke twins. We lived a great life. I am telling you this story because Luis died yesterday and Bella is really sick and I don’t think she will live much longer. I am really sad but know that they will always be with me no matter what. “ Three weeks later” Bella died today. I will always remember them throughout my high school years.
Hope you liked the story and pleas give me some tips on my writing it would be great if you did. Also let me know what you thought of the story. I am just going to say hi now because I do not have enough words to submit this story. hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi h hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi
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4,839
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Write about two characters on the verge of a life-changing event, but one has rigged the outcome.
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Luck of the Draw
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Henry McCall sauntered down the street, calm, confident, ready for anything. People looked away, unwilling to meet his gaze. He rested his right hand on the hilt of his revolver, a Webley. In his gambler's clothes, dark pinstripe trousers and vest offset by a teal cravat, with a bowler hat on his head and a walking stick in his left hand, he presented the epitome of a British gentleman. Even his dark-blonde mustache, curled with wax, seemed elegant and refined.The main street of Gholson, Texas, with businesses and homes lining it, blew with early July's dust. The morning breeze, already warm, stirred tumbleweeds along and a string of cattle headed along the road toward the rail line in Waco. Three cowboys chivied the beasts and Hank gave them the gimlet eye.His reputation among these folk, earned when he shot a man who called him a cheat at cards, kept trouble at bay. The aging marshal and his one cowardly deputy dared not lift a hand against the English remittance man or his pair of companions. Both his friends were hard men and positioned well for the fight scheduled to happen today. But the cows were a complication. Walking in the street, he might slip on cow dung, but facing someone, he needed to be alert to them, not his footing.He glanced up behind the signboard of Mitchel's Hardware Emporium. He spotted Earl's rifle, waiting to back-shoot the foolish young ranger who would be walking down the street any moment to arrest him. Then he made sure Sam Green stood in the shade beside the post office. Sam spat, the stream of tobacco striking the street's dust with an inaudible splat. It was the agreed sign he was ready to lend a hand should the boy show.The line of cows continued on toward their appointment with the butcher, the dust of their passing obscuring the street. Henry smiled as a young woman, unable to cross the street, passed along the wooden walk within arm's reach. He tipped his hat. "A delight to see you this morning."She ducked her head and gripped her basket tight, but offered no word. Henry turned and eyed her retreating backside, enjoying the thought he might inconvenience her after he disposed of the only man willing to stand up to him. Dust from the passing herd wafted into his face and he pulled out a kerchief to ward it off, breathing through the fine silk.They had agreed on nine o'clock, yet the boy was nowhere to be seen. He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. Ten minutes to go. Ten minutes until their date with destiny. He noted the man from the press, accompanied by a photographer with a new model Eastman camera. They would capture the moment for history. After, he would travel East and write books, telling of his adventures in the savage frontier. Fame and fortune, particularly fortune, would be his. The boy would die and his status as a Texas ranger would ensure Henry's reputation.The rifle barrel waggled back and forth, then slipped down behind the sign. Henry sighed. Just like Earl to complicate things with some folderol. At least he was alert, not drunk or asleep. The entire thing hinged on having Earl shoot the boy just as they reached for their guns. Henry would follow with five more fast rounds and none would be the wiser. But the dust complicated things more than the risk of dung. It would make photography indistinct.How long did it take to drive a herd down the street? Henry checked his pocket-watch again. Three minutes left. There, the last drover. They could still make their date with destiny.Finally, the last rider made it past. Henry walked to the middle of the street and waited. The dust slowly settled and a tall lean man, the sort a local might call a long drink of water, strode up.Mike Carson watched the street with special care. He marked where all the cow patties lay, along with the rifleman posted behind the big sign. If he walked forward, the bushwhacker would be behind him. He tossed a small pebble up at the heel of Whiskey Earl's boot. Earl, startled, looked over the edge of the sign. Mike tipped his hat back and smiled up at him. Earl knew Mike, who had arrested him six years earlier. Earl had only emerged from Huntsville prison six months ago, just in time to join in with the Englishman. Never a brave man, Earl felt his legs give out.Henry weighed the stranger's dusty garb- a dull tan hat the locals called sugar-loaf, dark leather vest, riding boots, and a revolver on his hip. Nothing to worry about, the gear any poor laborer would wear, much like what the boy had when Henry issued the formal challenge for the affront to his honor. The blurred form halted fifty feet distant, farther than Henry could reliably make a shot. He cursed the dust, then decide to mock the youth. "Afraid to come face me? Needs must or you prove not a man."Finally, he started, just as a fresh breeze scattered the billowing dust. Henry looked down, saw clear space, and took two steps forward. In the shade of the post office, Sam spat again and hitched up his gun-belt. Henry glanced to see when Earl would rise up, ready to back his play, as the locals called it."Lookin' fer your friend, Englishman?" the approaching ranger called. "Seems Earl decided he didn't hanker to bein' shot today.""Who the deuce are you? I arranged to meet a ranger today, not a nameless cowhand.""Why don't you ask Sure-shot Sam Atwell, man as is most like to hit what he ain't aiming fer." Mike smiled as he got close enough to see the other backup man. "I happen to be a ranger. Badge and all.""Pray tell, why then do you not wear it.""You shore do tok pretty." Mike's hand hovered over the butt of his pistol, not quite touching it. "You come along peaceable like and you can get out in five, mebbe ten year. Go fer your gun and your pappy won't need to send no more money never.""What sort of uneducated-" Henry began, only to be interrupted by Sam."Damnation, that's Mike Carson," Sam yelped."A man falsely accused me of villainy and I challenged him to a matter of honor." Henry needed to figure this new situation. He knew how to calculate odds, but this was unexpected. The ranger stepped closer as he hesitated. Barely fifteen feet separated them now. "I expect to meet him or have the ludicrous accusation withdrawn.""I'm accusin' you of aimin' to bushwhack one o' my men." Mike continued his slow advance. Sam fled, his spurs jangling as he ran like a scared jackrabbit."I had no such plans." Mike was barely ten feet away and still closing. Henry was peripherally aware of the newsman taking repeated photographs, the new film roll able to get a picture without needing a flash. If he could get the drop on this man, he would still come out ahead. Perhaps more, given his companion's reactions. He needed time. "If I might have a moment.""I'm arrestin' you fer the death o' Cole Hartman." Mike stood within arm's reach of Henry. Mike's eyes never wavered, and Henry saw death staring him in the face."It was a fair fight.""Tell 'er to the judge." Mike's hand flashed forward and took the Webley from Henry's holster. "Now git down to the jail.""Mister Carson, what just happened here? Why didn't you shoot him? What happened to the fight which was supposed to take place?""I arrested a man. That's all.""But the fight?""Texas pays me to keep the peace. That's what I done."The next morning, the news read, "Mike Carson, famed Texas Ranger, faced down three men yesterday. Despite the deck stacked against him, he still won the draw."Historical NotesEastman patented roll film in 1881.The Webley Revolver entered service in 1887.Gholson Texas was known as Sardis until 1887 when the name officially changed.
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6,617
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Write about two people reconnecting after a rough patch in their relationship.
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Luke and Katie's Relationship Reunion
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Hello everyone! My name is Luke Gates. I am 11 years old and I used to have a friend named Katie Lee. She is also 11 years old. But recently, she started to complain about literally anything. For example, once there was a fly just minding it’s own business, and then Katie told me to slap the fly because it was disgusting. I thought about killing an innocent fly was just not right, so I said no. And then she stared at the fly with disgust for another moment, and then walked on. So I started to hang out less and less with her because it is starting to get on my nerves. Now I’ve completely stopped hanging out with her and just pretend she doesn’t exist anymore. Once at school, she walked by me and just nudged me in the arm with her elbow. And I was like, “ Ow! What did you do that for? “. Then she just walked on as if I was invisible. Then there is another thing, people stared at me often just because of this WHOLE dramatic relationship thing with Katie.
I didn’t really think it would go to this point that everyone would notice, but it still went there right up to the point that everyone would ask me or Katie about it. I sometimes wished I could be invisible or at least not to get noticed. I once even searched, “ How to be invisible “. But the resources were not informative at all. You might think I am dumb and all, but you will be surprised to know that I have top marks in almost all the categories. Many people are jealous because I’m literally the best in class. But some people learn from me and then fix their mistakes. For the learning people, I think they are my favourite. So let’s go back to the present now, I was doing my homework at home when the doorbell rang. So I rushed downstairs to open the door.
When I opened the door, it surprised me that a classmate from my school called Dave Rupflin was standing on the porch. I waved and he waved back and said, “ May I come in? “. Wow, this kid is very polite. How could I have never noticed that? I welcomed him in and we sat down together on a couch. Then I asked, “ What brings you here at night? ”. “ Not much. “ he replied. Then he explained to me that he broke up with his girlfriend Susan a few days ago. " That was sad. ". I thought to myself while comforting Dave. Then suddenly, the thought of me and Katie breaking up came back to my mind. I thought it wasn't really a breakup, but I still like her even with what we've all gone through. But now since she is my ex-girlfriend, I can't even get within a meter of her. Another reason is that she is always annoyed to see me and occasionally bump into me on purpose. Some people comfort me and some people tease me about the dramatic relationship. Then abruptly, a motion brought me back to the present. Now I see Dave cuddling me as if he were a baby trying to grab a warm blanket.
After Dave left, I started to research how to make someone like you again. Then I clicked on a YouTube video that has the title, " How to make someone like you again after a hard relationship. ". That video has three million views! It must be a resourceful video. At the end of the video, I felt brighter and a great weight got lifted off my shoulders. " I will try the tips tomorrow at school to make me and Katie's relationship better again. ". At about midnight, I had a dream about following the tips and end up humiliating myself in front of Katie and she will never like me again. The next day I put my uniform on and got ready for school, then I wolfed down my breakfast and sprinted out of the house and hopped onto the school bus. On the school bus, I saw Katie sitting in the last seat. So obviously I went over to her and waved with a smile. It startled me that Katie actually waved back with hope in her eyes. I guessed that meant she wanted to be with me again. So I sat next to Katie and then started using the tips from the YouTube video. First thing, you speak softly and with confidence. Second, you need to have eye contact. Third, you need to talk about something they're interested in. And lastly, You always show a smile. I guess the tips did work because Katie started to act more comfortable around me and started talking to me more frequently.
Then at the school's front gate, I told her that we should just forgive each other and leave the whole thing behind. She agreed and walked into the school and disappeared through the crowds. during class time, our teacher Mrs Rubin told us to do a science experiment. So I chose an experiment about the artificial smell of vanilla compared to the natural smell of vanilla. My hypothesis is that people will like the artificial smell because those manufacturers add some smell to make people relax and get addicted. But the results never came out because there was a last-minute one-week long break. This was the exact right timing for me to reunite with Katie. So a day after the break started, I invited her over to my house to explain to her more about our relationship. So I told her about why first we kind of stopped hanging out together and suggested her maybe she can stop complaining about everything. Unexpectedly, she agreed with me and promised she will change and never do that again.
Then we went out to the park to buy some ice creams and we held our hands together while jogging along with the path and half-melted ice creams in our hands. During sunset, we sat under the orange sky and licking our ice creams while holding hands and enjoying the beautiful day. Then a thing unexpected happened. Katie kissed me on the cheek and quickly turned away. This was the first time I've ever been kissed. So I blushed and turned my head away too, so Katie wouldn't see. Then I thought in my head, " This is the best day to get a kiss. I love it! ".
Written by Evan Chen
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8,457
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Start or end your story with a house going up in flames.
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MEGAN
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Megan awoke to the acrid smell of smoke. it hurt her throat and she couldn't stop coughing. She jumped from her bed and ran to her bedroom door. She felt the door like she'd been taught. IF THE DOOR IS HOT, DO NOT OPEN IT. The door was so hot she could hardly touch it. She looked out her second story window and there were reddish orange flames as far as she could see. She was trapped! There was no way out!!!Then the screaming began. "Someone help me, Mom wake up! Then her screams were interrupted by uncontrollable coughing. Is this how her life would end. She was only ten.
Suddenly her mother was standing beside her.
"Megan it's ok. It's just a dream." Megan's uncontrollable coughing continued. It was the same nightmare. She began to cry softly.
"It's so real," Megan sobbed. My throat even hurts.
Megan and her mother climbed into the bed. Her mother held her close. She rubbed her back and kept saying over and over, "I know, I know." And she did know. The nightmare started the day after her husband and Megan's father died in a burning building. He was a firefighter and had gone into the house to rescue a little girl. He never came out. Megan and her mother had made progress but they were both so sad. It had been almost a year.
They had moved cross country to a cozy little house across the street from the beach. They had new friends, Megan had a new school, and they were trying so hard. But the nightmare's continued and made them both cry.
Megan went into her bathroom to wash her face. She looked in the mirror. She had long blonde hair, just like her mom; and blue eyes just like her dad. Everyone always said, Megan was the perfect combination of her parents. She wondered if the nightmares would ever go away.
As she went back to her room she couldn't help but smile. She LOVED her room. Her mom had let her decorate it the way she wanted. The only rule was she had to keep it clean. Her walls were covered with her watercolor seascapes and sea creatures. She had two large bookshelves one full of books. She loved reading almost as much as the beach. The other bookshelf was called her treasure trove. Each shelf had labeled plastic boxes. The boxes contained treasures she had found on the beach. Each day after school Megan would take a long walk on the beach with her bucket. It was her favorite part of the day. She found natural things like driftwood, sea glass, feathers, and shells. She also found things people had left behind like sunglasses, keys, combs, hair ribbons and even fake fingernails. She cleaned each item and sorted it into one of her plastic boxes.
Megan pulled out the box marked SUNGLASSES, and put in the pair she had found yesterday. There were six pairs in the box already. As she looked at them she imagined a face and a story to go with each pair. Someday she might write a book about them.
There was also a tall clear glass vase about one third full of sea glass. She loved to dump the glass out onto her bed and feel the smooth cool shapes with her fingers. Megan yawned and remembered she had school tomorrow. Maybe she should try and get some sleep. As she pulled up the covers the still unanswered question floated through her brain. Why would her father run into a house to save someone else's little girl, and leave his daughter with no father? "Good Night, Dad," She whispered. She began to breathe deeply and slowly and drifted off to sleep.
She heard mom in the kitchen and looked at the clock. It was late.
"Mom, why didn't you wake me up?" Megan yelled down the stairs.
" I figured you need a few extra minutes of sleep. You have plenty of time, I can drive you to school."
Megan stretched and began her school morning routine. Being in a routine seemed to help ease the pain. If she did the same thing everyday the same way she could do it without thinking. She looked out the window and everything was blanketed in thick fog. She put on her warmest clothes and clambered down the stairs for breakfast.
"Good Morning, Megan, Now don't forget."
"Mom, you can trust me, I promise! I won't go down to the beach until you get home."
"Why don't you invite Sharon for dinner tonight? I'm sure she'd love to see how you fixed up your room. "
"I don't want to . I have my friends at school, but the beach and my room are just for me."
Megan's mother looked sad and Megan knew she had to be careful. Her mom was always on the verge of tears.
"I think I'll take the bus. I have enough time. Megan kissed her mom, and trudged off to the bus stop. Megan loved fifth grade and before she knew it the day was over. The ride home was quiet, Megan wondered what mom had left for snack.
She jumped off at her stop and skipped home. The house seemed quiet without mom, but not scary. Megan changed into her play clothes and headed for the kitchen. Chocolate chip brownies, her favorite. She poured herself some milk and chowed down. Now what? Boring Boring.
Mom's words echoed in her head, "Don't go down on the beach until I get home." She knew her mom was just being safe, but she was nine!
Megan went out to the porch. The fog had lifted a bit, and she could see something white being rolled back and forth by the waves. Just my luck, she thought, a fantastic treasure and I can't go on the beach.
She ran inside and got the binoculars. She focused on the white object. She strained to see it clearly.
"Oh no, she whispered, it's a seagull." He must be dead. The body was being tossed again and again in the waves. Just then she saw one wing flutter. Her heart started to pound. She couldn't let him die. But she remembered her mother's words. She ran inside and called Mrs. Jackson, their nearest neighbor.
"Mrs. Jackson this is Megan. There's a wounded seagull down on the beach and I can't go down to help him because my mother isn't here. She took a deep breath and continued. Can you come up here
so I can go down and help that poor bird please?
"Megan you know how much I love animals, but I'm giving my baby his bath. I can be there in about thirty minutes."
"I'm afraid that will be too late. Do you know the phone number for the animal rescue people?"
"Oh, honey, they just come out for larger animals, not seagulls."
Megan hung up and raced out to the porch, and watched through the binoculars. Megan's jaw jutted out in what mom called her stubborn look.
I know I'll be punished, but this is a life and death situation.That bird has to be rescued. She got a small cardboard box out of the garage and put an old guest towel in it, and headed down to the water.
When she got closer she could see why the bird was struggling. He was all tangled up in fishing line. One foot and one wing were completely useless. and his eyes were filled with terror.
"Hi, sweet baby, looks like you're in a real mess." crooned Megan.
She bent down and tried to pick up the bird.
"Ouch, Don't bite me I'm trying to help you." She knew the gull was
panicked and he didn't understand she was trying to help, but his bites really hurt. She tried over and over, but he kept fighting her.
He was getting weaker.
How could she pick him up without getting hurt? Megan gently pushed the bird farther up on the beach using the box, so he wouldn't get washed out by the tide. She ran back to the house, her mom wasn't home yet. She got her mother's oven mitts and raced back to the gull.
The bird could no longer move his wing and his eyes were closed. Megan put on the mitts and gently picked him up and put him in the box. He continued to peck at her weak as he was.
"You're going to be fine, I'm going to take care of you. "Megan walked back to the house with her precious cargo. She put the box and looked more carefully. The fishing line was wrapped too tightly to untangle it. The fishing line would have to be cut. Megan ran up to her mother's room. She wasn't supposed to get into her mother's
things, but this wasn't a day for following the rules. She got mom's manicure scissors and raced back to the porch. The curved blades were perfect for snipping the fishing line, but the ends were too sharp. She was afraid she'd cut the bird. THINK MEGAN THINK! then she remembered something in her Metal Things box. She ran up the stairs and got some nail clippers. "I think these will work."
Back on the porch she started chipping the line one piece at the time. It was going to take quite a while to get this done. The bird didn't look good. She went into the house and got an eyedropper and some water and bread. Megan filled the eyedropper with water
and gently put a few drops of water in his mouth. He swallowed greedily, then opened his mouth for more. She broke off a piece of bread and he liked that too. Just then the door opened.
"What in the world is going on here?"
"Mom, we don't have time to talk. You can punish me later, but please help me with this bird."
Megan's mom stooped down and began talking quietly to the sea gull, "Poor baby, What happened to you?"
"Its those dang fishermen who leave broken lines on the beach this is what happens.
"Megan it looks to me that you have things under control. Do you want me to hold him so he doesn't wiggle?"
"Yes please, but you need to put on the oven mitts" Megan continued to cut the strings one at a time. And after about twenty minutes he was free. The gull lay on the porch panting, then got feebly to his feet and began to walk around limping on his left foot. He kept shaking his head. Ate a few more pieces of bread then climbed into the box and snuggled down.
Megan and her mother both laughed. Mom put her arm around Megan's shoulder.
"We need to talk," said mom.
"I know, I know, I disobeyed you, but I couldn't let him die."
"I agree. When I saw you with that bird, I realized how much you're like your father. Now that I no longer have your father, I've been smothering you and I'm sorry." Megan's mom reached out and touched her face. You are so grown up and responsible and I have to learn to let you be the person you are to become. You figured out exactly what that bird needed and you did it all by yourself. I'm so proud of you."
Megan started, "I can't explain what it was like. Mrs. Jackson couldn't come, and the bird was dying and I was the only one to help him." Then the sobbing began.
"What is it, sweetie? I'm not mad I'm not going to punish you."
"I just realized why Dad had to rescue someone else's child. He was the only one who could do it. "
Now Mother with tears running down her face and said, "Sometimes we learn lessons in the strangest ways. This seagull taught us both something important today."
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6,137
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Write a story about someone who travels to the future, and isn’t happy about how they’ve been remembered.
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MONUMENTAL NEGLECT
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The year 2020: There was a massive gathering at Lindeck Square that evening where the Chief Minister was to install the statue of former CM Sheela. The area was festooned with flowers with a big banner welcoming the CM. The function which was to start at 6 was delayed by nearly half an hour, and the restive crowd was noisy. After the invocation, the welcome address, and the garlanding, the CM was requested to address the gathering. There was pin drop silence as he started his speech. He said “Friends, I first wish to apologize for being late for this function. There is a reason for it. I had to travel by a roundabout, traffic- filled route as the usual road was blocked for repair following yesterday’s storm. The overhead bridge is not yet ready. We have met today when it is my pleasant duty to install the statue of madam Sheela. We all know Sheela was a polymath: Speaker, dancer, musician, film actor, playwright, politician and patron of all of us, particularly the have-nots and the underprivileged. We know she was born into an aristocratic family and turned to become one who could appreciate problems of the common man. She founded the PTP which party has been ruling our state since a decade. It was she who had prevailed on me to join the PTP. Her appeal resonated in me and I resigned from the RVM of which I had been a staunch member since several years. As you all know, Sheela has stepped down due to ill-health leaving me to be the CM. Since we are honouring her services by installing her statue, I shall briefly recall her contributions.
Even while in school, she got interested in the performing arts. She learnt classical dance from a renowned guru and her maiden stage performance was inaugurated by the President of India. She gave several performances with her team in India and abroad winning great acclaim. Filmdom was already eying her for a stellar role. Starting as a danseuse, it was only a short journey for her to move to play the heroine. The movie THE MONK’S TEMPTATION saw her in her first stellar role where she starred as the divine dancer Urvasi. Noted director Hussain who directed the film said that Sheela could herself easily surpass the mythical dancer if given the chance! Since then she has acted in several hit films of which you are aware.
Sheela was very courageous. Once she was camped in a forest near Lona after doing a film. She would go round like on a safari carrying a gun, but mainly to shoot wild life on camera. There, seeing a wild boar charging a young woman she shot it dead. She took the woman Hema – an uneducated villager- into her employ. She says it was through Hema that she realised what poverty meant and about the fragility of human life. She has explained her concerns about those deprived to Mrs.Tamtomo her Indonesian biographer now living in New Zealand. Later Sheela bought farmland in Lona and presented it to Hema. Looking at the woman’s success in exploiting the land, we can all gauge her competence and also about how farming could make one prosperous.
People only like to hear about Sheela in films but she was versatile. She could play the veena like a virtuoso. She has instituted scholarships in music and dance in the university here. She learnt Sanscrit and I know she is now composing a historical drama set in the age of Emperor Harsha.
Mrs.Tamtoma in the biography has written about what Sheela had told her regarding her entry into politics: She knew through certain stories in her films about the suffering of the poor and about how denial of opportunities made them become criminals. The life of a repeat offender and of how he was reformed by a social organisation greatly moved her and made her to think about doing good to society through the legislature. That was why after she quit the film world, she started the PTP in a small way, but her following swelled and she was elected to office. That was the start of another career for her. Her outlook and approach to problems in society made her surpass competing politicians. She became a legend writes Tamtomo.
I again say hers was an untiring effort to reform society and to uplift the poor and the needy. She has introduced laws or amended them to benefit society. Putting up her statue in a public place to perpetuate her memory was mooted and received much support. Contributions poured in not only from our citizens and film industry, but from many overseas fans as well. I was trying to fix up a sculptor to make a granite bust of Sheela when the internationally acclaimed sculptor Eva Centamori from Argentina met me. After hearing me she said “A bust, particularly of black granite, would only suit a male who is bearded, bald or shaggy like Greek philosophers and the like. Sheela needs to be sculpted in full form, in marble as the woman she is. I’ve met her and would like to make her statue like she was in her prime. I’ll do it for free if you’ll allow me. ” Her reasoning appealed to me and I gave her the job and whatever help she needed. She, and one of her students from her studio in Cordoba, had several photos and films of Sheela to work with. The result is this statue I’ll be unveiling today.” He paused and added ”I chose Lindeck Square for the installation as it’s a very busy and important place in this city. We don’t know who Lindeck was. This place will hereafter be Sheela Square. Eva Centamori isn’t present here this day as she has been called away to receive a prestigious award in Italy. She has told me she would come again when I’ll suitably compensate her. Her contribution is inscribed in the stone tablet beneath Sheela’s statue. I now dedicate Sheela’s statue to our city this day which is her birthday. I’m sure that she will be remembered forever.’ As he pressed a button, the circular curtain around the statue gently flowed down fully exposing the statue as bright lights focussed on it. There was prolonged standing applause by the audience as TV cameras recorded the event. The function ended after the usual vote of thanks.
Sheela was at home watching the event. Looking at her sculpture she was amazed. She couldn’t believe it was she in her prime. She was a practical woman and climbed into a virtual time capsule of her own! She set the year to 2023, and travelled invisibly to Sheela Square on this date in the morning. It was bright sunshine when she anchored and watched as a group of workers with ladders brooms, etc descended on the spot. The supervisor was an elderly woman from a cleaning squad. She ordered her staff “Quick, get to work! I want the statue cleaned in an hour. Remember to clean carefully. There should be no damage.” Two men climbed ladders and started dusting the statue. As they worked they indulged in small talk with loud laughter in between. The supervisor who was watching closely, shouted “Fellows, shut up! Even a statue rouses you, and you touch parts of the woman and share comments! I overheard what you were saying. You men are shameless! Stop obscene talk and finish the cleaning.” The invisible Sheela who also heard the talk was momentarily elated at the effect her statue had induced. She remained parked in the same spot and witnessed the low key function that evening where she was briefly remembered.
Sheela then set the machine to go to the same place, on the same date and time in the year 2030. She gasped when she couldn’t recognize the place. The statue was missing! There was no traffic at the junction as it seemed to have been diverted perhaps to an overhead bridge. Alas! Sheela Square was no more!
Sheela next set the machine to be in the same point at the same time, the same date in the year 2040. The machine ordered ”Looking too far ahead. Dismount!”
Sheela was back from her virtual tour! She said to herself “I have to make peace with the reality that fame is transitory and the term ‘forever’ has only sentimental value. The future will honour its contemporaries. Succeeding generations will throw relics of the past to the dung heap of history!”
END
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3,496
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Write a story involving a friendship between two different species.
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MOUSE and THE LAME PIGEON
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MOUSE and THE LAME PIGEON
“ Of course , from a cat called Mouse you can expect at least something unusual, extravagant...But this then I would never have expected !“ Anita said, as soon as she came back home. “ “What has Sofia’s cat been up to?” Her mother asked, while she was checking the cooking of the chicken in the casserole. “ Ah, remember” her mother added, holding up the fork with which she had pricked the meat of the chicken “ you must remember that it was Sofia who called that poor cat Mouse. The cat Mouse has nothing to do with the name it bears. If anything, we should ( have to) wonder what to expect from someone who calls her cat MOUSE” “ Yes, I agree, that one, Sofia is a bit deranged. Oh, but in my opinion, if she is so crazy, it is because of that guy with whom she lives “ Anita said “ But listen! Would it be because of her co-living if Sofia is touched? I wouldn’t say it’s right. Hee, rather it is she, Sofia , who is beaten up on her own. He, instead, her partner is even a good painter” Anita’s mother said. “ But yes, a very good painter! In fact he calls himself Botticelli....What a presumption! “ Anita snapped . “But, let’s forget Botticelli and Sofia too. Don’t you want to know what Mouse did?” she asked.
“ Of course I want to know. On, tell me “ “ Then, listen. When, a little ago, coming back home, I passed in front of Marianna ‘s house, in the courtyard in front of her house, there was a pigeon standing on the sidelines, which moved with hesitant, little steps and was limping. ( which limped too).. It didn’t really looked healthy, that pigeon. Its feathers were ruffled and almost dirty. It looked old and battered. This pigeon not only kept away from the chickens, the ducks, and other animals , there in the courtyard, but it seemed to be afraid of them.” Anita started telling, as she jumped sitting on the table, getting a stern look from her mother. “ I’m listening, but I expected you would tell me about Mouse, not about a pigeon” Sara, Anita’s mother , said, almost impatient. “ Wait, it is just about Mouse that I’m going to tell you “ Anita said, jumping off the table. “ Then, I stopped there, in front of the courtyard just because I was intrigued by this pigeon which,in my opinion, was even not able to fly, when I saw Mouse arrive. The cat, moving in thick and fast steps, went very close to the pigeon. Now I expected that, for a young cat like Mouse, a pigeon so shabby, even lame, even not able to fly, it would be an easy prey. So that, as I saw Mouse approaching the pigeon, I expected to see the poor pigeon in the cat’s clutches. But instead....oh, my God , you knew what happened...” Anita stopped suddenly speaking, as if she was breathless. She seemed too agitated to be able to continue her story ( to tell). “ Look, if Sofia’s cat didn’t attack ( catch) that pigeon, it was probably because, as you said, it was old and run down so that the cat was not interested in hunting it. The cat knew, or rather felt the old pigeon wouldn’t be good to eat” Sara said, with nonchalance. “ Oh, but Mouse didn’t just not grab ( catch) the pigeon, the cat even started licking the pigeon! Mouse licked its head and its body, oh, you saw! And the pigeon, as the cat was licking it, gave it very light pecks, right with the tip of the beak, as of to return the favor...Oh, what a sight....I stayed there completely stunned ...” Anita was talking going up and down the room , with an enchanted look, as if she still had the cat and the pigeon under her eyes, while they were cuddled each other. “ Come on, I really don’t find ( see) anything so extraordinary in it” Sara commented. “ It maybe the cat licked the pigeon to know if it was edible. And the pigeon, on its part, pecked the cat to make it understand that it had still the beak to defend itself if the cat intended to eat it.” “ Ah, I see you don’t understand...but you should have been there, seeing them with your own eyes. They would have moved you too” Anita sighed, sorry for the skepticism with which her mother commented on the story of that for her was something absolutely extraordinary , incredible for herself, if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. “ But I didn’t tell you everything, there is still more “ Anita said, and kept on telling, undaunted. “ After having been an almost long time the cat to lick the pigeon and the pigeon to reciprocate with very light pecks, the two animals started walking, side by side , on the edge of the courtyard. They were quite distant from the other animals present there in the courtyard, at which they ( the cat and the pigeon) now and then, cast a glance, as if to make sure that no one of those others were approaching them. Oh, it was really a wonder, truly enchanting to see Mouse and the pigeon , as they walked, turn they heads, point their muzzle or beak at those over there, to make sure those there stayed at a safe distance, that those there weren’t going to bother them.” Anita fell silent suddenly, as if she was out of breath. She kept looking insistently at her mother, who continued to stand bent over the stove, without saying a word, without looking at her. “ Ah, you had seen them “ Anita came back telling “ They walked side by side and, now and then, they stopped and stood facing each other...and they started talking, maybe even arguing...Oh, I swear that really it seemed they were talking “ Anita kept telling more and more enthusiast.
“ Ah, then the cat and the pigeon were talking ( Or: but well, you saw the cat and the pigeon that were talking)....and, let’s hear, what language were they speaking?” Sara snorted, who seemed not to want to give much weight ( importance) to what Anita was telling. “ Oh, Mom, but what a question! When I say that Mouse and the pigeon were talking, I don’t mean they really spoke.... Of course , at least they didn’t speak a language made up with words, and, in any case, not even ( made) of gestures and sounds that I could understand. Yet I bet they were talking, like two friends can do during a walk”
Sara was not at all impressed by what Anita told her about Mouse and that ( the) pigeon, as she thought that her daughter was exaggerating the extent of what she had seen, that she had become too enthusiastic. Yet something really unusual ( rare), even if not entirely extraordinary, had truly happened between that great curious playful which was Mouse ,the cat of the extravagant Sofia , and that lame and battered pigeon to which no one had thought to give a name. No one, but perhaps except Mouse. Who knows how the cat Mouse called that pigeon. Since Mouse and the lame pigeon had become friends.
It had happened that that old pigeon, when he was already lame, but was still able to fly, in one of its last flights, had landed right in the courtyard in front of Marianne’s house. For the old pigeon, lame and run down ,it had been a real fortune. In the courtyard there were hens, chickens , ducks, all animals which were regularly given to eat, that is to peck, so that the old and battered pigeon could it too find something to peck. In that courtyard.
Mouse ( the cat Mouse) which was everyday roaming around in the countryside, was an habitué of the courtyard in front of Marianna’s house, where, you could say, he knew one by one the hens, the chickens the ducks, the turkeys. Ah, how much he ( the cat) liked to run after the hens, to make them run away, as if he was giving them the hunt. And it happened that sometimes the cat received also some pecks, not at all light, from the hens. But when they, the hens, stretched out their beaks, he pulled out his claws. It was he, Mouse, which ran away scared ( frightened) when the geese, arranged in a team, stretching their long necks, started to chase him, cackling at full beak.
Here, it was ( had been) in this courtyard that, one day, Mouse had seen the lame pigeon. He had seen thepigeon while it ( the pigeon) was standing aloof from the other animals, , moving only a little its head, which seemed fearful. Mouse was a great hunter, even of pigeons, of course, which he found very tasty to eat. Ah, their meat was delicious, both raw and cooked. Yes, since Mouse had also eaten ( tasted) the pigeon cooked. She, his great friend Sofia, oh, she could cook the pigeon in different very tasty ways. He , MOUSE could not but help be sorry that Sofia cooked only pigeons she went to take from that there, that horrible guy wearing a bloody apron, ah...she came home with pigeons already dead and plucked ....Ah, if she had cooked the pigeons he hunted, instead! Mouse had also brought ( taken) the pigeons he had caught into house, but Sofia oh, had looked at him angry, she had sent him, with the pigeon out of house....
So, as soon as Mouse saw that pigeon there, almost at the end of the courtyard , he , since he was a ca( as a cat he was) widened his eyes , rolled ( rubbed) his claws on the ground, ready , indeed impatient to launch into the attack. And he left as fast as a lightening : he knew he had to grab the beast ( pigeon) before it could take off. And yet that pigeon hadn’t taken off at all. It hadn’t even tried to escape, it had moved only a bit, but Mouse could then notice that the pigeon was lame. The cat had swooped down on the pigeon , ready to grab it with his claws, ready to pierce it with his teeth, oh, but that smell....that smell which took your breath away....A musty, stinking sewage smell, emanated from the pigeon, had made him ( Mouse) soon give up his prey. Mouse was trembling with fear, as he left the pigeon slip out of his claws . Since that lame, balding pigeon , with even a not bright eye, not only would it not have been good to eat, but it was a danger too. That smell of acidic slime , but, at the same time of mold, which emanated from the pigeon for him ( Mouse) meant DANGER! Warning DANGER! The lame pigeon was plagued and it would have plagued him too! Mouse had not only given up on hunting it , he had escaped from that plagued animal, since he did not want to be plagued ( he) too. Sofia’s cat had escaped away, even if he hadn’t started running. Mouse had gone away, taking that long step, stretching his front legs out before him, that same step he took when he was pursued by the cackling geese. So the cat had crossed the courtyard, his front legs stretched forward, in a very short time. When he was going to leave the courtyard, Mouse could not help but glance behind him. Oh, he saw that the lame and stinking pigeon with its uncertain, hesitant steps, and limping, was moving ( walking) towards him! Yes, the lame, stinking pigeon was following him! Sure, it ( the pigeon) was still at a considerable distance from him, but if it had started flying, he could reach him in an instant ( immediately) Yeah, if the pigeon would take flight...But why it didn’t fly? That pigeon hadn’t even taken flight when he was about to catch it .Then the lame pigeon couldn’t even fly, Mouse realized.
If Anita had been remained very amazed and even very much moved by the meeting of Mouse with the lame pigeon, which she had happened to witness, who knows how she would have remained if she could have seen what happened that day, when Mouse and the lame pigeon, they had seen each other ( they had met) for the first time. Ah, what happened then, in that courtyard crowded with animals, only they, the animals which were in the courtyard, could know ( witness). Not a dog passed which could see ( what was happening).
Mouse had just realized that the foul-smelling pigeon could not fly, and, forgetting that he had to get away from it, in order not to be plagued, he stood looking at the pigeon as it trudged, laboriously, limping, towards him. The pigeon was stretching its neck, was stretching its beak towards him. Here, it seemed that the pigeon was saying something to him, Mouse, yes, just with its beak, that was pointed at him. With its beak, not with its eyes, the lame , stinking pigeon was saying something to him. Mouse couldn’t understand what the pigeon was saying to him, but he was sure that the damned beast was saying something just to him. Meanwhile the cackling geese attacked the lame pigeon with their strong beaks. The geese, cackling louder than ever, were tearing off its feathers, giving it ( the poor beast) big pecks. Then Mouse, it could be said that he was the one which took off. In a flash he was next to the lame pigeon , and he lashed out furiously, on the geese, clawing and biting them. The cat’s intervention had to surprise a lot the geese, which closed their beaks , gave up the poor pigeon and, muted, moved away, with their tails between their legs.
The lame pigeon, battered more than ever, quite plucked, and Mouse stood facing each other for an almost long time, and perhaps they said something each other , with their eyes, with minimal gestures. The pigeon craned its neck up and, with its beak in the air, made a sound which was not the usual cooing of pigeons, but rather a kind of cry. Mouse raised a paw, as if to place it on the pigeon, but then soon withdrew it and held ( placed) it on his chest. It seemed that the two animals were making a pact, an agreement between them. And this was happening while all the other animals in the yard ( crowding the yard) moved away from them.
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5,392
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Write a story told exclusively through dialogue.
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Maria
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Doctor Salazar opened the door to see her patient, Maria.
_ Hello, please come inside. _ Salazar said with her usual polite tone and neutral expression. The young woman went into the clinic office quietly.
_ Long time no see! Please sit. _the psychologist gestured _You have skipped many sessions! I was getting worried about you. _ The psychologist said while organizing some sheets. Maria sat down and started fidgeting with her hands.
_ May I ask you what happened? You seem anxious in a positive way?_ Salazar clicked his pen, ready to write about this session.
Maria smiled before answering:
_ I fell in love.
The psychologist nearly dropped the pen that was in his grasp.
_ Excuse me? _ the older man gave a light-hearted laugh before asking._ How did this happen? It seems like significant progress! Tell me from the start. What happened since our last session.
_ I changed a lot, doc. I'm no longer the old Maria you knew.
_ So tell me your story ''new Maria''. _ Salazar spoke with a playful voice.
_ '' I was an unhappy woman: a college student who followed everyone's expectations except for mine. There was a persistent ingratitude in my heart, making me restless as if I was looking for something I forgot. Most people had some jealousy towards me, considering me as someone lucky because of my seemingly comfortable life.
My parents seemed to support me since my curiosity always got the best results in my studies that resulted in a college scholarship.''
_ If my memory is not failing, your major is Literature.
_ Yeah, I chose this one because I love reading! It's way easier than dealing with humans: creatures with confusing, deceitful thoughts and selfish feelings.
Doctor Salazar chucked.
_ So how did you end up falling in love with someone, Maria?
Maria closed her eyes and declared theatrically:
_ '' There is always some madness in love. But there is some reason in madness.''
_ Nietzsche. In other words, his work influenced your change into a new person?
_ Isn't man something that shall overcome himself? All of our sufferings come from not being able to overcome your weakness. But this started when I met him. "I chose Literature as a way of escaping from this muzzy and depressing reality. But my parents didn't see it in that way: they saw an opportunity to help me get a stable career.
I didn't ask for their advice even so I wasn't allowed to choose: I had to finish college, or they would kick me out of their home."
_ But Maria, did you have any idea what you wanted to do? Any passions to follow or a dream strong enough to make you stand up for yourself?
_ Oh, Doc Salazar! I was so busy trying to make my parents proud of me, achieving their toxic expectations that costed my life.
_ Why didn't you explain to them how you were feeling?
_ You think I didn't do that? _ Maria snarls_ "If you don't know which way to take, any option will serve you." That's what they said to me. I wanted to become a writer when I was a kid, but no one would ever read the things I wrote, give feedback.
As a writer, I was my worst critic, causing me to not believe in my work. ''
_ You had a dream, Maria: suffocated by logic and lack of support. But still, they are crucial to maintaining hope and will to live.
_ But there's something more important than hope: love. However, in both situations, love was an unfamiliar feeling for me.
_ Why? What made you think like that?
Maria looked down, answering in a bitter and nostalgic voice:
_The way they act, the treatment given to me. I analyzed patterns and came to a logical conclusion: they showed "love" towards me when I achieved their unfulfilled dreams one after the other.
As I fulfilled their expectations, a new one appeared: a never-ending work for me.''
The girl lingered before saying with a weird smile.
_ "One must imagine Sysiphus happy" I tried to follow Camus's idea...
My family kept making plans for my life while I kept repeating patterns that cost me happiness.
" I am that unlovable? Why don't I love my family? Is this a sin? If I'm a sinner, is this a punishment?" Those thoughts came to my head once in a while, haunting me.
_ Is it lack of love a problem? Everyone should start loving themselves.
_ Oh, doc. I was looking for answers in books, and I found this: '' If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not to love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.'' it is common sense that love is something inherently human.
According to human beliefs and most stories: love is the most important feeling in a human being.
I understand why you kept nagging me about going out to socialize,
Doctor Salazar.
Salazar looked entertained while asking:
_So, you were listening to my counseling advice? I thought you were pretending to listen to me.
_ I heard every single word you said, but I didn't know how to get out of a hopeless state. I didn't trust anyone, except for you.
"Friends, family, and trust weren't words I would say in the same sentence with a positive statement. Friends changes as time pass. The family has their beliefs and makes you swallow them without questions.
I didn't trust anyone because they didn't give me enough reasons to do so. Something was missing in this beating heart: hope, despair, were fighting inside my soul. I agreed with Nietzsche: hope is the worst of all evils because it prolongs man's torments.
Tormented by an irrational, nameless wish: Life was full of repetitions, I lived in a dreamlike state: searching for something that I could not recall its name or how to find it.
Without a reason to fight, I was dead inside. My heart was numb by living like a tormented soul was beyond tiresome.
_ That's the reason you wanted to die?
_Honestly? No one wants to die. Flirting with death was a way of sensing some control in my life. I hated myself because of my lack of action because I nearly killed my inner child.
Without motivation or any direction, I lived like any slave from this fucked up world.
_ I guess you are losing focus here: how did you meet him? What made him so special to you?
Maria paused for a while, smiling and slightly blushing.
_ I was in my last year of college, looking for a job, writing a thesis. There was a mandatory group project as a way of building up a partnership between different colleges. The goal was to stimulate us to teach our native language and learn with foreigners.
An equivalent exchange, to say the least, I had no expectations towards it. In my mind, I only had to finish this quickly and efficiently so I could accomplish the next goal.
He was my partner in this project: an average-looking man: tall, with dark brown hair, black eyes, slightly tanned skin, glasses.
Average-looking yet, so charming and smart.
For some reason, I felt safe around him and wanted to know him better.
He saw through my facade because he was as hurting as myself.
_How? Why did you think like that?_ Doctor Salazar asked with a concerned expression.
_ I could see it in his eyes. Those who are looking into an abyss of despair know how to recognize each other. There's darkness in their eyes, and we know that eyes don't lie.
_ Aren't you mirroring your expectations of him?
_ No.
_ What makes you think like that?
_ Because I expect nothing from him: I love him. I have no expectations about this: if he likes me romantically, I'll date him. If it's one-sided love, I'll be glad to be his friend.
_ Aren't you aware of the risks? You might get hurt.
_'' There is a hint of madness in love. But also some reason in madness.'' I know that I can hurt myself with it. Still, it's something that I've never wanted so badly in my entire life.
Doctor Salazar maintained his expression, except for his eyes that looked sad.
_ What are you going to do now? Did you tell your family or friends about it?
_ My friends already know about it.
Suddenly both of them startled when a cellphone started vibrated loudly at Salazar's table.
Maria apologized _ I talked too much again.
_ No, no! My job is to listen to you, Maria. _ Salazar seemed anxious for no apparent reason.
_ Well, I'll see you at our next session. Thanks for helping me.
Maria turned around to leave.
_ Maria!
_ Yes?
_ Are you going to confess to him?
_ Yeah, I can't keep this feeling inside.
_ ... _ Salazar hesitated before saying:
_ Maria. If he rejects you, know that the right person will see your potential. This person will help you fight against your darkness, and I know you'll do the same to the ones you'll love with no hesitation. If he feels the same towards you, I hope he is a nice guy and makes you happy.
Maria smiled awkwardly at Doctor Salazar's words.
_ Thanks, Doc. I'll see you next session.
As she closed the door, Salazar dropped himself to the ground.
He put a hand on his face as he mumbled to himself.
_ And again, I couldn't let go of this job. I couldn't tell her about my feelings. If I could go back in time, I would choose her instead of this job.
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10,313
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Write about a character who’s always thinking of things they’ll say to people, but who ends up saying very little when they finally get the chance.
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Mirror Image
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Emelia studied herself in the large bathroom mirror that took up most of the white textured wall behind it. She looked over her thirty-two years’ worth of aged skin. Her once-tight supple smooth flesh did not hold as it once had. Her deep dark brown eyes did not glimmer or sparkle holding the hope of magic and optimism anymore. No, that had faded with her dreams as life barreled on without her permission.
“You had dulled a long time ago, didn’t you?” She spoke to the image staring back at her. Emelia narrowed her eyes to see her father’s large bulbous nose adorned by her mother’s dark empty eyes, features her parents had gifted her at birth. Over the years mother nature or D.N.A gave her even more; her once abundance of long black swirling locks was now thinning giving her a rising hairline.
“You disgust me.” She whispered almost growling at herself. The words seem to shock her reflection staring back at her making her open her eyes wide. Her lips curled down; her face began to redden pairing with her eyes waling up with tears.
“The world is cruel enough, how can you say this to me?” Emelia stepped back turning away as she asked herself the rhetorical question. Never expecting a response.
“When will you start to stand up for yourself?” The reflection countered, ignoring Emelia’s last question.
“I do stand...”
“Don’t even.” The image said back flatly. “You forget who you are talking to.”
Emelia turned to see her reflection sitting on the edge of the porcelain white bath tube that set a few feet behind her. She had crossed her legs, her hand on either side of her as she casually watched Emelia’s response. Emelia turned away looking down at the tub she was standing over and then back to the image of herself. This was a confident Emelia in the reflection, not the small scared little bird she was. The image adjusted the thick white robe she wore covering her knee.
“Are you cold?” Emelia asked. Surprised at her question. This was not what she wanted to ask. Emelia wanted to know if she had finally, after a lifetime of abuse, lost her mind.
“No... and No.” The image spoke.
“What? No, you are not cold?” Emelia asked, studying her image who was now leaning forward her hands clasped together on her lap. Of course, she wouldn’t be cold, the pink and yellow flannel pantsuit nightgown her grandmother had given her when she was sixteen was extremely warm. This being her reflection had the same thing on. “Such a silly question to ask.” Emelia thought to herself. She walked close to the mirror looking for a light or for some way someone could be messing with her.
“It’s a mirror, just a normal mirror.” The reflection said out loud. Exactly what Emelia was thinking. The reflection smiled then puckered her lips together narrowing her eyes leaning forward as it watched Emelia reached around feeling for anything.
“What exactly are you looking for?” The image finally spoke. She stood up from the tub and walked over to the counter that separated the two. She watched as Emelia ran her hands along the edges of the mirror.
“There are stories of places like Airbnb’s having cameras watching people. Emelia spoke breathily in between grunts from stretching.
“But, this is your house of thirty or so years and there is no one here but you.”
“Well, the cameras are usually connected somewhere else, duh.
The reflection took a step back standing up straight, her hand slumped to her side. “Did you really just ‘duh’ me?”
Emelia stepped back away from the counter and mirror, looking at her reflection again. They were matched up except for the puzzled look on the face of the reflection. All though Emelia could have had the same look on her own face, but she did not trust the Alice in Wonderland mirror in front of her anymore. Emelia did not have a response to the reflection’s questions. She suddenly felt as if she were a child being chastised by an adult.
The reflection's face slowly morphed into a smile and then into a full-blown laugh. Emelia found the humor in the comment and realized she was laughing as well. The reflections of laughter soon faded, but the warm smile still lingered. Emelia walked up to the mirror stopping at the counter, “Why are you here?” She had to scour her brain to find the right words. Trying desperately not to offend the reflection but at the same time get some answer to her presents.
“That is exactly what you do, isn’t it?” The reflection spoke softly, her lips had dropped from the upcurved smile to a bland straight line. The reflection's eyes seemed solemn and a bit sad. It was a face Emelia was used to seeing looking back at her. Emelia could feel the smile from her face fading as well. She suddenly felt self-conscious again. Emelia felt small and as if she knew little to nothing. She fought back the urge to cry.
“Stop it, you stop that right now!” The reflection snapped as she began to pound on the glass of the mirror. This snapped Emelia back to her attention. She imagined her reflection busting through the mirror grabbing up a large shard and repeatedly stabbing her to death before taking over her reality.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” The reflection countered.
“What?” Emelia again had no clear answer to the question.
“You have watched way too many damn horror movies! I am not here to kill you. You, you big dummy!” She paused and took a deep breath. “I am here for you.”
The reflection was right about her watching too many horror movies. She is her, I am her. Emelia finally had put two and two together, anything she thought of the reflection knew as well.
“What am I supposed to think?” Emelia finally said out loud.
“At this moment absolutely nothing. You wanted me here so here I am. I am here to help you.” The reflection spoke back pressing her open hand against the glass.
“By driving me loopy?” Emelia snapped back. The comment had a little more venom to it than she had intended. She figured she would not think, just as the reflection had said, instead whatever question she had she would just blurt them out, damn her feelings!
“YES, exactly!” The reflection squealed laughing and dancing around the bathroom on her side of the mirror.
“Wait, what?” Emelia looked down to see a small puddle of water on her side of the mirror floor and called out,” Be careful there is water on the floor.” Emelia said watching the reflection drop dramatically behind the counter somewhere. “Are you okay? Are..are you there?” There was silence then a loud burst of laughter as the reflections hand slapped up on the white granite countertop. She lifted herself, her rob disheveled her hair a wild mess as if she had been out in a windstorm.
“Are you okay?” Emelia asked
“Ow, that kind of smarts.” The reflection said as she got to her feet straightening her rob and running her hands through her hair to tame it. “Sorry about that, have a seat.” The reflection motion for Emelia to sit on the edge of the tub behind her. Reluctantly Emelia obliged while rubbing her own elbow and arm.
“So,” The reflection said finding her way to the tub on her side of the mirror and then taking a seat.
“Soooo...” Emelia repeated back.
“You understand now. That was easier than I thought it would be. I mean, I know you and you can be a little thick. No offense.” The reflection said while she began to play with a cluster of curls that hung over her shoulder twisting them around her fingers.
“Okayyy...” Emelia spoke back.
The reflection dropped her hair and stared at Emelia. “You do get it don’t you?”
“Get what exactly?” Emelia could hear her voice go up an octave. If she were trying to fool herself, she was doing a bad job at it.
“Are you kidding me? You just said it! You just did it!” The reflection spoke back a little annoyed.
“Look, I never asked you to come here and I don’t know what you are talking about!” Emelia said back with the same annoyance.
“It amazes me how you can be so smart and so dumb at the same time!” The reflection said.
“What the hell? WHAT DO YOU WANT!” Emelia screamed out balling up her fist. “I want you to be the real you, which is me!” The reflection yelled back, gesturing to Emelia, and then herself.
“What? That makes no sense. I am not you! I mean, you are a reflection of me so I guess I am you, but I am me!” Emelia stood up leaning in as she yelled at her reflection. She felt rage, an emotion she often kept hidden, never coming out when she needed it to, but right now it festered and was bubbling up.
“YES, YOU ARE! I AM THE REAL YOU! The you that asks questions and gets answers. The you that does not go out of her way to spare someone's feelings. Even if that “somebody” is being rude and disrespectful to the point that they need to be smack. I am the one that will smack them! Family, friends, and strangers, it does not matter. I am the real you who knows my worth and will not settle. I AM YOU! I am you that would have told our boss the truth about sweet little Marcel. How that cow did not do any of the work she claimed! How I did it all and deserve the raise! NOT her!”
“She is a single mother, and she needed the money more than I did.” Emelia tried to intervene.
“I do not remember knocking her up! All she did was watch YouTube on her phone while you made all the important calls and did all of the paperwork!”
“It was only a ten percent raise,” Emelia yelled meekly.
“It was my rise!” The reflection retorted back “and what about your mother’s constant abuse! Pointing out every little flaw even though you have surpassed her in every way imaginable. A great job, a great house all that schooling. You do not drink or do drugs! Still, nothing was ever good enough for her! She was no mother, she competed with you! She was jealous of your accomplishment and wanted to keep you in your place!”
“She is my mother, she only wanted the best for me!” Emelia yells back again trying desperately to defend her actions.
“And what about him! That loathsome trash Tom you called a boyfriend and your best friend? He knew you would be coming home; he knew what he was doing when he invited Betsy into the two of you into your bed! Why the hell did he ask you to move in! And I know you saw that smirk on his face when he was finally found out!”
This comment struck Emelia hard, her chest tightens on hearing Tom and Betsy’s name. She let herself fall back. Instead of sitting on the edge of the tub, she missed, crumbling down to the floor balling up into a circle pulling her knees to her chest. She imagined she was an armadillo tucked safely away from the outside world. Hot tears streamed down her face. It was all too much. “Why are you doing this to me?” She whimpered.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” The reflections flatly said back. Emelia looked up to see the reflection standing in the mirror looking down at her. In her rage, she looked demonic. Emelia turned her head inwards, burying her face into her arms.
“You deserve so much better. You are worth so much more.” The reflection spoke again. “You know what you need to do.”
The image of the full bottle of Tramadol she had acquired after her gallbladder surgery flashed into her head. It was safely tucked behind some feminine products under the sink. HCI (C-IV) 50mg 100 tablets never touched, she could take them all in one sitting and simply just fall asleep. Emelia thought to herself.
“That is not what I mean and you know it! You coward!” The reflection growled.
The floor seemed so much colder than Emelia could remember. As cold as the hurtful world that was outside. She was safe in her home, at least she was before this thing in the mirror came along. This creature was now hurting her inside and out. This reflection was using Emelias pain against her like everyone in her life seemed to do. Emelia could feel her blood starting to boil, that hidden anger was again exposing itself. “How dare you!” Emelia thought at first and then said the words. She lifted her head from her arms looking back up at the reflection. “HOW DARE YOU! “Emelia screamed, slapping her hand onto the cold floor unraveling her body from its tight safe ball. She would have to force herself to confront herself or stay trapped in an endless cycle of abuse. The reflection smiled. Emelia slapped her hand on the countertop pulling herself up. She would tell this reflection about how she really felt even though she should already know. Emelia stood to her feet ready for a word-to-word battle only to be surprised by the new reflection staring back at her. Emelia knew those cold empty judgmental eyes. It was her mother! Emelia let out a scream and stepped a few steps backward.
“Mind the water dear.” The raspy voice of Emelia's mother spoke. It was too late. The heel of her foot seemed to glide out from under her and she found herself falling back into the open mouth of the waiting bathtub. She fell hard slamming against the porcelain and metal basin, the light suddenly turned out.
Emelia did not know how long she had spent in the tub. She knew her legs were tingling and burning from dangling over the side. She rubbed her face before looking between her legs at the mirror. Her mother was still standing there looking at her with the same disappointing gaze she remembered.
“If you would clean more you would not be where you are now. I’m just saying, I did teach you about this thing called a mop.”The reflection quipped.
Emelia slammed her legs shut blocking out the image. “NO.No.No.No.no, no, no, no, no, no, no!” She whispered to herself as she took in her surroundings. Emelia raised her hand to the large knot that had formed on the back of her head sucking in her teeth in pain when she touched it. She pushed herself up and out of the tub the whole time trying not to look at the mirror.
“You knew the water was there, you could have put down a towel or maybe invest in a rug. You always were the penny pitcher weren’t you?” The image of her mother continued as Emelia got to her feet.
“Stop it, stop it, STOP IT! My mother is dead and this is just cruel!” Emelia yelled out before turning to face the mirror reflection again.
“Well, there's my girl.” The image smiled before morphing back into the image of Emelia again.
Emelia rushed to the counter slapping her hand against the mirror, “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!” She screamed pushing random bottles of toothpaste, face cleanser, makeup, and bathroom day-core in the sink and onto the floor. Her headache, her hands ached, her heart ached. When there was nothing left on the countertop, Emelia placed her hands flat on the surface, staring down at them. Her long curly locks covered the view of the mirror.
“That was a little bit too much wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have done that. Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that you are more. You are important and you have to start standing up for yourself. Say what you need to say. Stop holding it in. That is why. That is why I am here. I am you, you are me.” The reflection's voice was soft now more comforting.
“Look at me.” The reflection pleaded.
Emelia shook her head. “Please look at me.” Emelia balled up her fist again, she forced herself to look up into the eyes of the reflection. She studied every line and every curve of her face. “You are magnificent and amazing. These incidents do not define you. They teach you. Be you, that's all I want. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”
“I do deserve to be happy.” Emelia finally said back. That was when she noticed the eyes of the reflection. There was the sparkle, the lost glow of magic and optimism she had questioned earlier. “I am you and you are me.” She whispered to the reflection.
“I am you and you are me,” the two repeated together. The words acted as a warm blanket for Emelia. The tension in her body melted away. She lifted her hand to the mirror touching the hand of the reflection. “Emelia, I love you.” The reflection finally said. “I love you, Emelia,” Emelia repeated. The reflection smiled. She knew whatever that was, was now a part of her. She would be there when she needed her to be. Emelia would talk to her boss, and she would confront Tom and Betsy, only to never talk to them again. She decided right then and there to cut out all of the cancerous people from her life and she would be who she was meant to be. When she felt alone she knew she never really was.
‘
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6,742
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Start your story with the line, “This was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives,” and end it with, “By then it was too late.”
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Mother
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“This was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives,”
This refers to one day before my birthday.
Let me take you back in time where it started, how it started!
A white color tent is placed in the corner of the drawing-room which is sparkling with fairy lights, inside is sitting a 14-year-old girl surrounded with various kinds of soft toys out of which she is holding a cute little off-white teddy bear. That girl is me.. Allen. Let me describe myself to you, I am a teenager with a single parent, my mother left us when I was 7 years old since then I am with my old man, my father. I look a lot like her hazel eyes, fair skin tone, dark brown wavy hair, and a normal height according to my age.
I was peacefully playing in my tent when I heard a banging on the main door. I rushed to open the door there stood a 6 feet tall middle-aged man, with straight blonde hair, his eyes were green with a mix of blue and that was my father Raul.
“You came early today,” I said hugging him.
“Less work, honey.” He replied pulling me apart and entering the small apartment of ours.
“So can we cook together?” I asked excitedly.
Let me tell you I love cooking with my dad. He is the BEST CHEF according to me.
“Yeah, of-course we will cook together. Let me change my clothes first.” He smiled.
I rushed towards the kitchen thinking of what we should cook.
My father entered in about 2 minutes and said “Let’s bake cupcakes.”
I love cupcakes!
We started preparing the batter for cupcakes poured them in the utensil then in the oven and waited for them to be baked properly.
“You know your mother too loved cupcakes,” my dad sighed.
You all must be thinking my mother is dead, however, she isn’t dead, she just left us and father never told me why? I am mad at her for leaving us like this but I miss her more.
“They are ready,” I shouted.
We decorated them nicely and took them to the dining table where we always eat together.
After a few minutes dad said, “I have something to tell you!”
“Go ahead, I am listening,” I said.
“You know as Christmas is around the corner so is your birthday, I wanted to tell you something I hid from you these past many years.” He took a pause.
Till then I was sure it was about mother and I was ready to listen.
“It is about your mother!” he again took a pause waiting for my response.
Here it is, told you all.
“Go ahead, dad,” I said calmly.
“So it is your birthday on 24th December you will be turning 15. Your mother wishes to see you and celebrate both your birthday and Christmas together.” He said.
“After 8 years she wishes to see me?” I asked angrily.
“I get it honey you are mad at her for leaving us.” He said.
“Definitely. Why she wishes to see me now?” I raised another question in a louder tone than before.
“Honey don’t get her wrong....”
“WHY? You never told why she left us and now you say don’t get her wrong?” I interrupted.
“I want to tell you the reason now. Will you listen? And will you try to understand her?” he asked.
“Mmmmm okay, I will see,” I said.
“Listen, your mother is an agent. She works for the FBI. She left us because she had to go on a dangerous mission and she had to be away for almost 4 years but the years extended as time passed. Now she is in a state where she wishes to see you, where there is no danger. She did this to keep you safe.” He explained.
I sat speechlessly, all the madness was fading away, I was trying to hold my tears back but here we go I busted into tears.
“She will be here by tomorrow’s eve i.e. 23rd December.” He said.
“I want to meet her dad,” I said sobbing.
Obviously, I was mad at her but I missed her more every day.
I was restless waiting for the day to end and the evening to come. It was 4 pm when dad said we should leave to pick her up from the airport.
We drove to the airport I rushed towards the terminal where she was supposed to meet us.
There she is beautiful than ever with the same hazel eyes, sharp nose, average height, wearing her favorite black coat, and wearing her favorite hairstyle that is a low bun.
I ran towards her and grabbed her in a hug.
I heard a gunshot. I realized my mother’s back was bleeding, the gunshot hit her. My heart sank. She was half alive in my hands.
“I love you mother, I have missed you, I always wanted to get dressed by you dad doesn’t know how to dress a girl up, I always wanted to be like you, I want to cook with you, travel with you, wear your clothes, apply makeup with you, watch tv with you..please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.” Words came out of my mouth as I held her and tears flowed down my eyes.
My dad picked her up, we took her to the hospital.
The doctor took her into the operation theatre.
An hour elapsed, it was a long, harsh struggle. Then, as the machine started slowing down despite being able to remove the bullet the blood flow continued and, there she lay...lifeless.
The doctor came out removing his mask and gloves and said, “ We couldn’t save her.”
I cried even louder, tears were flowing through my father’s eyes too. He pulled me into a hug where all I could feel was the blood in my hands that was of my .... Mother.
The doctor said, “The time you brought her to us, by then it was too late.”
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8,053
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Write a story about someone losing faith in an institution.
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Mrs. Spencer's Suicide
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THE LINE IS long due to COVID-19 and all the Fourth of July shootings last weekend in the United States. I'm Raymond Johnson, attorney at law, and as far as I can tell, I died about three hours ago. I am now sitting in line at the pearly gates waiting for my interview.
Sitting next to me is Kola Ajose, a former Nigerian soldier, who'd been killed by gunfire from the ambushers at his general's motorcade. He asked me, "And how'd you get here man?" So I began to tell him my story.
* * *
"AFTER THIS MEETING, I knew Mrs. Merril Spencer, my client for a divorce case, was capable of shooting me," I told Penny Denny. 'Penny Denny' got his nickname, because of his small bets at the horse-racing tracks. I didn't learn until later, but he was the limo driver for her.
"Betting on horses is illegal in my country of Nigeria," Kola said.
"Not here. It is big business."
* * *
"MR. JOHNSON, I just want to say how I have changed my opinion about lawyers, after working with you. I have lost my faith in the legal profession."
"I am now convinced attorney's are instruments of the devil. You certainly are an archdevil of his. A pastor once told our class that the most archdevil of lawyers wasn't an attorney— no, she was a novelist— Harper Lee, who blinded America to attorney's real nature, and does so with the rereading of her book for each generation."
Kola, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Harper Lee, the author of To Kill a Mockingbird. Why's that?" I asked her.
"Harper Lee's novel does the devil's work. She created Atticus Finch, who lawyers use as their moral integrity, to hold up to the world— which is pure propaganda— he threw the case, got an innocent man convicted and hanged."
"Take you Mr. Johnson. You want to win my case using what? Lies. Why? For the big money. Morals? Ha? Money. Power is all that motivates you?"
"And what did Harper Lee accelerate and help create? A world where respect is gushed on winning lawyers, and sorrow for losing. All wrapped up in a package of denial of racism."
"Well that's your opinion, Mrs. Spencer," I said. My interjection did nothing to slow her down. She kept going.
"Mr. Johnson, the devil's biggest asset is the belief by people like you that the devil doesn't exist," she said.
Kola's eyes got as big as silver dollars. "Mr. Johnson, that is what our priest always told us in church."
"Your legal profession, and the courts are no more than an association of pickpockets and con men wearing suits and using lies to obfuscate the real order— which is to protect the powerful."
"Mr. Johnson I suspect you will die by your lies. Good day."
"Oh my Mr. Johnson, and after that you ended up here?" Kola asked.
"Not exactly, but kind of. Let me go on," I said.
* * *
"911 WHAT'S YOUR emergency?"
"There's a guy laying in a puddle of blood."
"Sir. What's your location?"
"I'm on the third level of the parking garage for the Cavelier Building at 525 N. Sam Houston Parkway."
"Your name sir?"
"Denny Sewald."
"Mr. Sewald, please standby until the emergency personnel arrive. Can you do that?"
"I'll wait."
* * *
"WHAT DO WE have here officer?" detective Sam Morris asked the uniform officer, who first arrived at the site.
"Looks like a one-and-done," the officer said. "That guy called it in."
"Hi. I'm detective Morris. You called 911?"
"I did."
"Why did you find this body?"
"I guess because I was walking to my truck and saw it. That is my F150 in its assigned spot."
"Do you know this guy? Who did this?"
"No. I have no idea."
"Did you see anyone suspicious or out of the ordinary?"
"No. I was just coming from my office heading for my next appointment— I sell for 740 KTRH— and saw him. Then I called 911."
"Did you show your driver's license and give your phone number to the officer?"
"I did."
"Here's my card. Call if you think of anything. You can leave."
The Crime Scene Investigation van drove up and parked. Maggie Condors, senior technician, got out.
"What do we have here?" she asked, pointing to the corpse of Raymond Johnson.
"You tell me," detective Morris said.
"Maggie, call me after the autopsy. I've got to run, I've got another call," Morris said and left.
"So that is how you died? Shot in a Houston, Texas office building's parking garage," Kola said.
"It is. Isn't it sad? I'd just paid for a month's gym membership yesterday."
* * *
IT ALL STARTED with Mrs. Merril Spencer, when I got this referral from the reverend, Clarence Wright, of Washington D.C. Church of the Apostles, and chairman of The National Association of Evangelicals for Trump.
"Raymond, I'm calling you about an embarrassing situation that is fomenting, and I need a delicate touch," he said.
He wanted me to handle a divorce case for Reverend R. C. Spencer, pastor of Sam Houston Evangelicals, Houston, Texas, a Televangelist Church, who appears three hours on television every afternoon with his wife Merril.
They broadcasted to a national audience on the church's own network, reaching two million Christians an hour. The church was the principal donor to Clarence Wright's Washington DC national association, who in turn were big donors to the Rumpolian National Party and zealot supporters of Donald Trump and backers of the "big lie.".
What Reverend Wright didn't tell me at first was he wanted me to represent the wife, not the husband. "Reverend Wright, I require a ten-thousand dollar retainer when I take on such a high profile divorce case," I said.
I waited for his answer. My breath came faster and I fought my urge to break the silence. "Okay Raymond. Give your account and routing numbers to my secretary and I'll see that the money is deposited today."
* * *
NOW THAT I was on retainer, I watched their TV show to study how they interacted. She didn't show one ounce of animosity towards her husband. She carried herself on the set with grace and balance. She had an accent that was part Missourians and part Texan.
Their typical episode was to show poor and horrid living conditions in a montage of a dire need of food, medical attention or spiritual help to start off. The montage was overlaid against images of Jesus, the last supper and images of him on the cross.
Back to the studio and some discussion of how terrible it was and cut to prayers. They then asked the audience and TV viewers for their prayers to help.
Their pictures reappeared as they closed their eyes, held hands and the Reverend R.C. Spencer led them in prayer. The studio cameras would zoom in on tears, as they asked for prayers.
As they prayed the producers cross-cut between the montage and back to them praying, and finally into their home-spun style pitch for donations.
Their pitch commercial, updated for each day's issue in the montage, ran for five minutes asking for donations, also cross-cut between them praying, then back to the montage of the issue. The theme? It was unfortunate, but to do God's work— money was needed. Please help.
This went on over-and-over for three hours a day. They would end with live testimony on the issue and then repeat the montage, cross-cutting to the prayer and the donation's pitch.
* * *
MRS. MERRIL SPENCER was more beautiful in person. She looked past me, to somewhere out the window, "Mr. Johnson, I'm Merril Spencer, wife of the Reverend R. C. Spencer, Pastor of Sam Houston Evangelicals, Houston, Texas. I'm here about my divorce from R.C."
"Merril, what did he do?" I asked.
It was this attitude of hers— the one she showed me on the first meeting— and subsequently which makes me sure she is the one who killed me.
She rubbed her jaw, thinking about what I had asked. She looked at her watch. "Mr. Johnson, I'd prefer if you referred to me as Mrs. Spencer."
Beautiful, yet arrogant, privileged and endowed, a goddess. "That's fine. Mrs. Spencer. My apologies," I said and lowered my eyes.
"Fine. Apology accepted."
"Mrs. Spencer, are you seeking a settlement from your husband with the divorce?"
"Yes. One million dollars."
"Okay," I pinched my lips together and nodded at her.
"And after the divorce, what about spousal support payments— alimony? What are you hoping to get per month?"
"I expect to get what I'm worth. Twenty-five thousand a month," she said.
"Mrs. Spencer, what we have to do is file paperwork that describes why you are seeking a divorce, and petitioning the court to grant you this settlement and alimony."
"Mr. Johnson, I'm afraid we'll have to do this tomorrow. I am out of time. I need to get back to the TV studio."
"Okay. But we have a lot more to do. A quick question, Mrs. Spencer, how do you feel right now?"
"I am committed to do this. I feel fine and I am looking forward to the next years of my life without the albatross. Mr. Johnson, I am not a self-pity party. I am a Christian who knows what she wants. I hope you are the one who can get it for me. Now I have to go. The car is waiting. I'm due back on set."
"Please call my cell number and make an arrangement with my assistant Carla for our next meeting. Good day Mr. Johnson."
* * *
I FOUND OUT later from 'Penny Denny' her limo driver what she said after our meeting.
"Carla, that lawyer is impertinent," Mrs. Spencer told her assistant.
"Mrs. Spencer then let him go. Let's find an attorney you like and respect." Mrs. Spencer stared straight ahead, but never answered.
* * *
"OKAY, MRS. SPENCER tell me how your husband harmed you?" I asked at our next meeting.
"He ignores me. He spends most of his off-air time with parishioners. He isn't interested in sex," she said.
"And you feel?" I asked.
"Angry," she said. "Are these questions necessary?"
At that she got up and quickly left my office, leaving the door open.
"Call me when you have something better to ask?" she said as she exited.
"No wonder her husband didn't pay any attention to her," Kola said.
"Next," the angel in charge of keeping the line moving said.
"What happened next?" Kola asked.
"Then the guy that hired me called," I said.
* * *
"RAYMOND, HOW IS our divorce case going?" Clarence Wright asked. Code for "what was my ten-thousand dollars retainer buying me."
"Clarence Mrs. Spencer feels hurt and angry, but I'm making a winning case for her."
"Now Raymond, you do understand this is sensitive. We depend on R.C and Merril to raise money. We can't jeopardize their teamwork," he said.
"Clarence, come right out with it."
"Raymond, we're not spendthrifts— we don't waste money— but we're not going to step over pennies to get to the dollars. You get my drift?"
"I got you Clarence. I'll be in touch," I said and we rang off.
"I don't get it. What did he mean by that?" Kola asked.
"What he meant was we'll pay just about anything to keep her quiet and on the show. That's what it meant," I said.
"Next," the angel in charge of keeping the line moving said.
* * *
"MRS SPENCER I can get what you want, but you are going to have to do three things for it to happen."
"And those are?"
"First, continue working on the TV show. Praying and treating your soon-to-be-ex husband with love and respect on camera," I said.
"I'll do that.."
"You can't ever disclose the divorce terms— go on TMZ or any talk show. Degrade your ex husband, the church or your TV show. Can you agree to that?"
"Mr. Johnson, just come out with it. What is it?"
"Do you want your settlement and your alimony?"
"I do."
"Then you're going to have to do a little acting for me. Play a little bluff on them— sort of a sting, if you please."
"How?" she asked.
"Bluff them to settle out of court."
"What do I have to do?"
"Exaggerate a little, and tell a couple of little white lies. Then we send our proposal to his lawyers and try to get a settlement out of court.
Adjusting and pulling at her blouse's cuffs she paused and stared at a point on the wall. "Okay, I can do that," she said, her voice's pitch higher than normal.
"I'm going to ask you a set of questions. You are going to answer them as I have written them out. You must be convincing and make the answers sound convincing."
"I can do that," she said. "Will this work?"
"It will work, Mrs. Spencer. They just want you to go away.".
"Why?"
"Why?" I shot back. "Why?---- Mrs. Spencer is always about two things: money and power."
"Oh, I see."
"So yes. It'll work."
"Here are your questions with the answers to practice.
She glanced at the top of the first page and put it in her purse.
"How long do you need?"
"Two days."
"Okay. Wednesday. 4 p.m. I'll be ready," she said.
* * *
"ON WEDNESDAY AT 4 p.m. Mrs. Spencer at the conference table, asked, 'You know these answers are all lies, counselor? How can lies win my case?'
"Lies Mrs. Spencer are the building blocks of the legal profession. You tell them, repeat them and pretty soon people will believe them. You want to get your money don't you?
"Yes. Of Course."
"When they hear what we have planned for them in open court, they will settle. Never in their lives would they want these details out— true or not. That's our gambit. There will be no trial. No court," I reassured her.
* * *
"I TURNED ON the recorder and started. "Mrs. Spencer, did your husband ever cheat on you with another woman?"
"Yes. He did. I caught him several times."
"Where?"
"He was in his office with the door shut when I walked in on them.
"What did you do about it?"
"I hired a private investigator and he followed my husband."
"And what did you find out?"
"I found out he not only cheated with another woman but he cheated with men as well."
"He would go off to motel rooms after he left the country club with one of the golf caddies each week."
"And how did this make you feel?"
"Shocked and devastated," she said, making her voice crack and sounding distraught.
"He is a man of the Lord and he violates God's commandments—" Mrs. Spencer started to sob and cry.
"Is this when you decided to divorce him?"
"Yes. The private detective told me that my husband had many evenings at the motels. He said he had photos and recordings too."
"And did you look at the photos?"
"No. I said I didn't want to see them. He kept them though."
"And what do you want and why?"
"I want to get away from him. "But most importantly, I want to get my life together."
"Mrs. Spencer, could you work with him on air after the divorce?"
"I am a professional. It'll be hard at first, but I can separate God's work from my personal life. Yes. I will continue to be his partner on Christian TV."
"Thank you. Do you have anything else to add."
"No," she said.
I turned off the recorder. "Okay Mrs. Spencer we're done for today.
If I like it; I'll have this audio taken over to your husband's law offices, including our proposal for a settlement. When I have word from them, I'll call you."
"She sounds like a natural at it, Raymond," Kola said.
"She did," I said, "didn't she?"
"Next, the angel in charge said, trying to keep the line moving.
* * *
TEN DAYS LATER, I got the call. They had accepted her conditions, and the terms just as we had proposed. Our gambit had worked. They sent over the agreement and Mrs. Spencer signed.
"Then what happened?" Kola asked.
"Here, I'll explain for you," I told him.
* * *
"HOMICIDE DETECTIVES SQUAD. How may I direct your call?" the operator asked.
"This is Maggie Condors, CSI, I have a report for Detective Morris. Is he there?"
"Just a moment please."
"Morris here."
"Detective, they've just finished the autopsy and lab work on the dead lawyer in the Cavalier Building parking structure, Raymond Johnson."
"And?"
"Suicide. No doubt. After we rolled the body the .32 Colt automatic was under him. He had gunshot residue on his right hand and red and brownish stippling burns on his temple. He shot himself. The gun was an inch away when it fired. Slug matched the pistol. He killed himself."
"Hmmm— okay?" Morris said.
"The report will be on your desk later today. I'll send it out after we hang up."
"Maggie thanks," the detective said, and rang off.
Detective Morris called his boss.
"Boss? That dead ambulance chaser, in the Cavalier Building on N. Houston Parkway in the parking structure? Cause of death was that he shot himself."
"Oh really. How sad. Well that's a good start," he said.
"I'll send the report up to you when I get it."
* * *
WOW MR. JOHNSON and that is how you ended up here. That is a sad story. Did you really kill yourself?" Kola asked.
"I did."
"Did you really lie and tell yourself she killed you?"
"I did."
"Are you sorry?"
"I am?"
"Was Harper Lee really the lawyer's biggest propagandist?"
"Most definitely."
Trying to keep the line moving, "Next," the angel in charge said.
# # #
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4,688
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Write about someone telling their family they won’t be continuing the long-standing family business.
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My Lord
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Every family has at least one palm tree, no matter how poor; it is akin to an Arab man not having a donkey, camel or some with goats. It was must have then in 50’s. It serves battalion of purposes: Red oil, broom, thatches, lotion, soap, goat, sheeps food, wine and religious rituals etc. all comes from it.Mrs Okwe was of average height that equals her weight. She usually had a disarming smile on her that arrest any person she comes across. Not educated but wise. She knew from observation that most people were poor in her village due to impatience and ignorance. She knew that most families has numbers of lands that her husband has, but planting the palm trees, tending it for five years is what most of them were not willing to do. Most prefer to see the dividend of their labour the same year it was expended not five. So, they opted for yam cultivation.Mrs Okwe was into soap making then, she maximized 70 percent of her arable land for palm tree planting. She initial wanted to focus on palm oil mainly; but she calculated that she would get stuck with hundreds of gallons of unsold oils. So, she veered into soap making. She converted one plot of her land into warehouse and factory if the make shift batchers would pass as warehouse and factory.Most of her workers in that factory were the same yam planters see five as fifty years and could not wait for five year. Most of the know how the work needs were already in born in the workers for that had been the only method of producing soap in Biafran land since people started living communal life.The materials for producing the soap all comes from the palm tree only water and some fire wood. Palm tree peak season is always between November to April. But the tree itself is like African orange that produces fruits twelve calendar months non-stop. Just cut down the palm head, instead of removing the kernel one by one, you just cut them off. That part that seeds grows in is what you need and the oil from the nut. Burn the parts and take its ashes, put it in water and decant to remove unwanted materials then boil. When it turns to a kind of starch, mix with oil preferably from the palm nut that is about to go bad and stir. Once it is well blended, you have a medicinal soap believed to cure some diseases. That was Mrs Okwe’s profession in 50s and 60s. she had hired workers that work in all stages of the production. Those that tends to the palm trees, those that do the cutting, those that do the burning, boiling and mixing. She virtually dominated the soap industry in 50s and 60s for most people don’t even see modern soap to buy then during colonial era and most prefer madam Okwe’s soap as it was known.In 70s, it was still a force to reckon with, even though the modern bar soap has virtually reduced madam Okwe’s soap to only 30 percent of market share. Her son that returned from Britain after education was reluctant to go into the business, he turned the soap into modern one by producing bar and toilet soaps in the same name of madam Okwe’s soap. Hired people to manage the company and was selling most of the items that comes from the palm trees to other companies while working in newspaper formMr Miko Okwe was of normal height and weight just like his parents, unlike his parents, he don’t have that jovial nature. He like to hit the nail on the head and get on with other things. Not that he lack patience, but he believe that white-collar work is where his calling is not blue. So, in late seventies when he came back to Nigeria and his aged parent was lining up work for him in the family business of local soap production, he rejected it out rightly for he don’t see bright future in the business, above all, he don’t see himself as a farmer.“I know you see the business as local, you can modernize it and buy machines from Malaysia” the mother said.“That is not the problem, the soap has lost it appeal to peoples. modern day soap factory are spring up everywhere nowadays and people are switching over” he said.“People are still buying, three months ago, one man from Ghana bought half lorry of the soap”“Yea, he will buy another half lorry next year”“What are you suggesting we do now, your younger brother is still in school” the mother enquired.“I will buy machines to cut off most of the manual labour involved, search and see if I can see buyers of by-products of the palm kernel.”Two years later, the demand for the local soap were still poor despite the price being reduced significantly after importing machines from Malaysia. So, Mr Miko decided to build modern bar and toilet soap factory in five plots of land they have near Onitsha. When the factory was ready, he started producing bar and toilet soaps under the same name of madam Okwe’s soap. Initially, there was positive response from customers that knew the name for three decades, and after two years of progress, stagnancy set in. It stayed like that for a year plus, the manager who happened to be their cousin was quarreling with the suppliers. They were accusing themselves of being behind the poor performance of the factory. The suppliers was claiming that the management was owing them 12 million being remaining payment on oil, caustic soda and perfume. The manager was threatening to sue them for supplying him with fake materials that drove away his customers that took him years to build.“I told you that what you are buying came from china not Germany, didn’t i?” supplier asked.“But you did not tell me it is this bad, only that it came from china”“Yea, but I told you time without number that the materials were Chinese made. Are you telling me you don’t know what that phrase means?”“I don’t know”“Well, you do now, all I need is my money. Next time, you will pay attention to quality not quantity”“I am not paying; I am changing to competent supplier”“Then, I am sorry to say that we will have to see each other in court”Idemili high court was a long light-white, single-story building on the inside of other long buildings of the same type that serve as office of the Idemili South Local Government Area secretariat. On one side of the building is mini football pitch that serves many purposes to the Amanda of primary and secondary school children under the local Government. In front just across two-lane road was a street that serves as a buffer between the illiterate masses and semi illiterate Government worker of the local Government. This was where the supplier summoned the manager of madam Okwe’s soap to settle their dispute. When the proceedings began and introduction done by the plaintiff and defendant lawyer, when it was time to cross question the manager, he blatantly refused to address the presiding judge as “My Lord” claiming that he has only one Lord as Christian and that his Lord is in heaven not in Idemili High Court. At the end of the proceedings, he was found guilty and told to reimburse the supplier the money own him and another ten million for settlement of his court expenses.After paying twenty-two plus something million, Mr Miko Okwe called family meeting and announced to them after briefing them of all that happened that they won’t be continuing the long-standing family soap making business due to combination of many factors.
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2,127
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Write about someone who decides it’s time to cut ties with a family member.
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My Brother, Rumpelstiltskin
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Never, under any circumstances, meddle in the affairs of humans. Humans are unpredictable, mischievous, and violent. If we ever see a human or if a human sees us, what do we do? Hide or runaway.
Under no circumstances are we to make deals with humans. If a human is desperate, they become stupid and will say yes to anything. A human's word is useless. Once their desperation ends, they either wise up and demand more, or they break their part of the contract entirely.
Finally, unless it is an emergency or a life-or-death situation, magic should never be used on humans. When magic is performed on humans, they become angry, then scared, and then violent. There’s no denying that magic can be a useful form of defense. For example, I have relatives in Scotland who use magic on humans greedy enough to rob their buckets filled with gold. Can you imagine stealing someone’s livelihood, just because it’s in an open field? The nerve of some humans.
These are the rules of all magical folk. These rules have preserved us for generations. We don’t mess with humans, and they don’t mess with us. Leave it to my brother and only living relative, Rumpelstiltskin, to break every single rule! He got in so much trouble with the humans that not even I could save him.
My brother had always been a trouble maker, even when he was a wee one. He first caused havoc among us magical folk by turning himself invisible, walking through walls, and pulling people's pants down with magic. Once he got bored of magical folk, he turned to humans for his pranks.
I warned him not to. I reminded him of the three rules, but did he listen? No. He would go out and find any human of his choosing and proceeded to make their day a nightmare. Everything from sealing doors shut, removing the wheels off of carts, to letting farm animals loose. I thought I could keep his pranks on the humans a secret. After all, these pranks were mostly harmless, and he never got himself caught. Then one day, everything changed and not for the better.
He burst through my door one morning and screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Brother! You never guess what I did last night!”
“Will you quiet down?” I asked him. It was barely the crack of dawn. I had a full workday ahead of me. Plus, his frantic screaming would wake up the entire village.
He finally calmed himself down and proceeded to tell me the entire story.
“Well, see there’s this wealthy human who lives in a mansion completely made of wood and stone,” he began. “He calls himself a king, I believe. I found out all the humans worship him and follow his every command.”
“Don’t tell me you pulled a prank on this ‘king’ fellow,” I told him.
“Hush up and let me finish,” my brother insisted. “The king only cares about gold and how other people with fancy clothes see him. Well, I’m walking through the walls of his mansion, to scope out the area, and then I see her! Locked away in a chamber full of straw is a beautiful woman! Probably the prettiest human I’ve ever seen!”
“Is there a point to his story, or can I go back to bed?” I yawned.
“Stop interrupting me!” he demanded. “Anyway, I see her crying, and I ask her why she's so upset.”
“You talked to a human?” I was fully awake now, furious over how my brother’s disrespect for not only his safety but the safety of our village. “Tell me it isn’t so! Tell me you speak in jest!”
“No, my brother,” he replied. “I tell the truth. I asked her why she was crying, and she told me how her father lied to the king, saying that she could spin hay into gold. To put her to the test, the king locked her in the room and told her to spin all the hay into gold. If she failed, the king said he would condemn her to death.”
“Then you said goodbye and vanished out of her sight,” I said. “Right? Right?”
“Actually, I made a deal with her.”
“You what?”
“Relax,” he told me. “It wasn’t that bad. I promised to turn all the hay into gold for her as long as she gave me something in return. And wouldn’t you know what she did? She gave me this!”
He pulled out gold necklaces with a gold heart in the middle.
“Apparently, her dead mother gave it to her as a birthday present. Imagine that!”
“Well, you can give it back to her right now!” I said, storming out of bed.
“I can’t,” he said, wiping the golden necklace back into his pocket.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve already kept my end of the bargain.”
My eyes widened. “You didn’t!”
“I did! I transformed all the hay into gold!”
He couldn’t bear to hold in his laughter any longer, though I failed to see the humor of it all. Maybe it’s because my own flesh in blood brother broke all three rules in one night!
“Imagine the look on their faces when they all see the entire room filled with strands of gold!” he said, nearly running out of breath.
“Hilarious,” I rolled my eyes.
“I think I’ve outdone myself, to be honest,” he wiped a tear from his eyes. “The king’s going to look so baffled to see that one of his subjects has magical powers; the girl’s father won’t believe his lie actually came true, and the girl will believe that I’m her savior!”
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” I said, snatching a few bowls from the cupboard. “Promise me you’ll never return to that king or that girl ever again!”
“Oh, come on brother. Don’t be such a stick in the mud.”
“I mean it! It’s a miracle you weren’t foolish enough to lead them to this very village. Promise me brother, or I’ll report you to the village authorities myself!”
My brother lowered his head.
“Fine,” he growled. “I promise never to return to the king or the girl ever again.”
With my mind finally, at ease, I went to prepare for breakfast. I thought my brother would keep his word, that the whole thing wouldn’t get any worse. To my dismay, I learned how little my brother’s word meant.
The next day, I woke up at the crack of dawn to a peaceful bedroom. If I’d known what would transpire, I would have taken it as the calm before the storm instead of believing everything was right with the world.
I walked into the kitchen only to see my brother sitting at the table. He grinned from ear to ear. He had gone through the trouble of making breakfast and setting up the table.
“What is it?” I asked him. I knew my brother never acted kindly unless he wanted something.
“Nothing,” he lied.
I lifted an eyebrow, and that was enough for him to confess.
“You know when I promised you to never prank the king and the girl ever again?” he said with a wince. “Well...”
“You didn’t!”
“I did! I just couldn't resist. At first, I just wanted to see the result of my handiwork. But when I saw the king wanted the girl to turn more hay into gold, I thought, why not? Every masterpiece needs an encore, no? So, I turned the hay into the gold, and I got this for my hard work.”
He held out a bracelet made completely made out of diamonds.
“Apparently this little thing has been in her family for generations,” he added.
I snatched the bracelet out of his hands. My brother’s expression went from happiness to pure shock. “What was that about?”
“You gave me your word you wouldn’t return to the king or the girl ever again!” I told him. I rushed towards him, ready to pounce on him. I wasn’t too worried about him seeping through the floor or the wall, my hands and body would go through with him.
“Wha-what are you doing?” my brother slowly walked back to the door.
“You might not have kept your word, but I certainly will!” I yelled as I toppled over him. He tried to faze through the floor. When I fazed with him, he tried turning invisible, which gave him no advantage in the slightest. The dirt and mud underneath the floorboard clung to his back, making him easier to see. Even when he used his magic to send me flying above the floor, I used my magic to haul him upward. My brother underestimated me, a mistake he wouldn’t make again.
I subdued my brother, turned him into the authorities, and presented his guilt to the whole community. They locked him in the pit known as the Cavumn Nigrum. The pit was notorious for siphoning away any and all kinds of magic from magical beings. This meant no matter how hard my brother tried he could not use his magical powers to escape.
Everyone in the village, including me, thought my brother’s mischievous ways were over, for good. Eleven blissful months passed, but then news of a disturbing event that shook the entire village to its core. For the first time Cavumn Nigrum's entire history, everyone inside escaped! The authorities were able to find all of the offenders that escaped, except for one.
RUMPELSTILTSKIN
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE
My brother, a fugitive, and on a Wanted Poster! I couldn’t believe it! The authorities said he and the rest of the scoundrels used the stones, roots, and crevasses to climb up to the bars, poke their hands through, regained their magical abilities, and escaped. The authorities asked me if I had any idea where my brother was. At first, I didn’t have a clue. It was a long time since I last spoke to him, and I had more important things to think about at the time. But after a few nights, I woke up in a cold sweat and knew exactly where he was.
Turned out the building where the king lived wasn’t that far away from the village. The authorities surrounded the area in hopes of catching my brother. I volunteered to aid them in my brother’s capture. They granted my request and placed me on the east side of the building.
I waited for hours and hours. I almost fell asleep, but then I heard movement in the bushes. Could it be him? I stood up straight, ready to grab him. To my surprise, it wasn’t my brother, but a pretty human female. She was the prettiest thing I have ever seen. She wore a beautiful blue dress that glimmered like diamonds in the night sky. Was this the lady my brother talked about?
I soon noticed the tears running down her face. She cried so much I nearly broke all three rules to comfort her, but I restrained myself at the last second.
“Oh, dear God!” she said, pressing her hands together. “Please tell me the name of the creature who stole my baby!”
I was shocked! My brother, stealing a baby? He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, he’d never, but he did! I couldn’t believe it, nor could I understand what my flesh-and-blood brother was doing. I was in such a rage I could feel my blood literally boil. The only thing calming me down was the lady’s heart-wrenching tears.
“I just need a name, dear God,” she begged. “Just a name that’s all I ask.”
Her eyes were closed. She wouldn’t see me even if I stood right in front of her. I didn’t know why she wanted to know my brother’s name, but I bet it had to do something with the baby. I took a deep breath. I was going to break the rules, for the first and hopefully last time. I leaned into her ear and whispered, “Rumpelstiltskin.”
She gasped. A smile came across her face. Her tears were no longer that of sadness but of joy.
“Oh, thank you, dear Lord, thank you!” she said. Opening her eyes, she turned around and left for the king’s building. I waited the rest of the night, but nothing else happened. At the crack of dawn, a magical fellow came in and said he was replacing me for the time being. I thanked him and walked back to my home. There was nothing I wanted more in the world than to collapse on my comfortable bed.
was just about to open the door when I heard someone crying inside.
“Shhhh...shhh...” said a voice. “Quiet, please, quiet!
My eyes widened. My brain was too foggy to make up a plan on the spot but I could feel the anger boiling over again. With nothing else to go on except for my rage, I opened the door.
There he was, standing at my table covered in dirt and soot. His eyes looked like they were about to explode. On the floor laid the baby, and it was astounding how it looked just like its mother.
“It’s over, brother,” I told him. “You got nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.”
“Listen, maybe we can work out some deal,” he said, sweat pouring down his face.
“Why the child?” I asked him.
“She didn’t have any more jewelry left, so she gave me her child instead,” he quickly explained. “Now brother, if you calm down, I’m sure we can come to some agreement.”
“Take the child, return it to its mother, and never come back here again,” I told him. “How does that sound?”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” he said, his voice quivering.”You see, I promised the lady I would only give her child back if she could correctly guess my name in two weeks. She’s never going to get it right even if she tried.”
“Oh, so now your word means something?”
“Brother, please! Just give me one more chance. I’m in too much trouble as it is. I didn’t mean to take the child. It was just only thing she had left to offer.”
“I’ve given you enough chances,” I said sternly. “How do you reward me? You not only break all of our rules but break the human rules as well.”
I pointed to the door and glared at him.
“Get out! And never come back!” I shouted.
With his head sagging to the floor, he picked up the baby. I watched him slowly walk out of my house and into the forest. He paused only for a moment to look back at me. I could see the tears in his eyes shimmer in the light of the moon, but I did not budge. He sighed and faced the forest again. That was the last time I saw my brother.
I bet he would have been relieved once he found out the lady actually knew his name. He would no longer be responsible for the child he stole. I guess that was the last nice thing I ever did for him.
Call me a stonecold, heartless, and hateful brother, I don’t care. Cutting ties with my only flesh-in-blood brother felt like it was the right thing to do, and there’s nothing you can do to change my mind.
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5,916
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Set your story in a library, after hours.
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My Euphoria
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Astrid slowly entered the library through a hidden back door that no one else knows about, she stepped on each blob of darkness, to not be seen. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw that she was near the aisle with her favorite books, and a wide smile spread across her face. Although no one could see the elation in her face, she was beyond excited. Astrid ran her hands through the neatly lined up books, feeling the different textured spines. Moonlight shined through a window, putting the book she wanted to read under a spotlight. Euphoria by Lily Kate, oh how long she’s been eyeing that book and it was finally time for to get her hands on it. Astrid felt like she was holding the entire universe in her hand when the book touched her palms. Quietly but quickly out of eagerness, she found a spot where the moonlight acted like a nightlamp and she buckled up for her journey through the universe.
“My heart whapped in my throat and all I could think was how to keep them, how to keep them. I felt my loneliness bulge out of me like a goiter,” she read that line out loud a couple times. Sadly, Astrid could relate to the character facing loneliness, she, herself, was never able to socialize with others at her school. She sighs and gets back to reading to get her mind off of her negative thoughts.
An hour passed by, too engrossed in the book Astrid lost track of time. Her watch showed 11:05 p.m. making her frown at the bright, lit up numbers. Oh dear, she is definitely in trouble. Astrid got the unlucky present of being born into a family with the strictest parents in the whole wide world. Their description of working to be successful is studying, studying, and studying, something Astrid would have loved if her parents didn’t pressure her about it. She is a smart, young girl, not in the subjects of school, but of the outside world. She has a vision beyond the words in her school textbook, but unfortunately, her parents don’t pay attention to that. Her B’s in math aren’t good enough for her parents, but when she shows her language arts grades which are all A+’s, it makes no difference to them. Astrid sighs as she thinks, it’s time to leave my real home to go to the house I was forced into.
Astrid places the book back on the shelf, and glances around to make sure no one was there. She felt a little chilly as she was only wearing a light sweater. Hmm...that’s weird. Why am I feeling so uneasy? I always come to this library late so no one would be there, she thought. Astrid walked on her tippy toes to the backdoor, but she abruptly stopped. She turned around slowly like a dramatic scene in a movie and widened her eyes to the view in front of her. OH MY GOD! she thought as she froze unable to process what was going on. In the dark, she noticed a figure, resembling a boy deep in thought, reading a book.
Astrid moved towards the stranger, “Uhm, what are you doing here at this time?” she whispered nervously.
He shot his head up and flinched at the sound of her voice, “Uh, I just needed some time alone and I love books, so I decided to read for a while. I even found a secret backdoor entrance which I never saw before! I guess the library is a different world in the dark.” the stranger replied awkwardly.
“Oh, I discovered that door couple months ago, and I have been visiting ever since. I love when the library is empty and serene, this is the perfect atmosphere to read. Well, my name is Astrid, what’s yours?” she asked.
“My name is Kai! What are you doing here this late?” Kai asked.
“My parents never let me read books, but instead force me to study all the time, so I sneak here in the night. But I have a special attachment with this library and it’s the only friend I have ever had. So, I come here often because it’s like an escape from the reality.” Astrid said as she sighs knowing her parents would never let her pursue her dreams of becoming an author.
“Why do you appear so grim?” Kai questioned.
“I wish my parents would understand that I want to be an author, but they never pay attention to that. They don’t understand that books are so much more than just entertainment and they don’t realize they are my only friends. Not just that, the thought of inspiring others through my writing brings me immense joy. My parents want me to pursue one of the mainstream careers and being an author is not one of the options.” Astrid replied dejected.
“I know, it might be hard, but why don’t you tell your parents about your dreams? Tell them how much becoming an author means to you. I think the problem is that they don’t realize your love for books and especially, writing.” Kai suggested.
“Hmm...You’re right. I have never been confident enough to tell them how I feel.” Astrid said.
“I know I just met you, but I can already see the passion you have for books. Just like me, the only difference is I like reading books, but you seem to also write very well. I want you to show your parents that.” Kai replied.
Astrid felt a rush of confidence and felt much lighter at heart.
“Kai, meet me at 8:30 p.m. around half an hour after the library closes.” Astrid whispered.
Kai just nodded in response to her. They said goodbye and parted their ways. Astrid’s house was not too far away from the library. On the walk back home, she realized that she never thought of directly telling her parents about her interest in writing. I’m so dumb! Haha! She laughed at herself.
She snuck in through her window, which was very easy as her room was on the first floor of her house. As she got in her room and closed her window, she saw her parents sitting on her bed.
“Do you even know what time it is? Why did you go so late? Where were you?” asked Astrid’s mom.
Astrid sighed and replied, “Sorry mom and dad, but I have something to tell you both. I was at the library because I wanted to read- I absolutely love reading. But more importantly, I want to become an author, even though you both think that it isn’t the right career for me. I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life in front of a computer. Reading and writing bring me joy.”
Her parents were taken aback because Astrid never told them directly about how she wanted to become an author. They felt guilty for their narrowmindedness that prevented them from seeing what their daughter truly wanted.
“Sorry Astrid, we never knew you liked books this much! Enough to sneak out every night to read!” Her dad exclaimed.
“I talked to your teacher and she said your math grades are improving to an A, so...I give you permission to focus on writing, while taking other core classes as well. But on one condition...” Astrid’s mom said.
Astrid’s heart started beating faster. Mom is really strict. I wonder what her condition is, Astrid thought to herself.
“Yes, mom?” she asked, nervously.
“I want you to tell me when you are going to the library and make use of your phone to keep communicating with us.” Her mom said.
“Okay Mom. I am so sorry for not telling you about my library visits.” Astrid apologized to her parents.
That night, Astrid slept the best in many days. This day was just great, she made a new friend and she was finally brave enough to tell her parents about her interest in writing.
The next day, as she got up to put her dinner plate in the sink, she said, “Mom and dad, I will be going to the library to read for a while.”
“Please come back by 10 o’clock Astrid.” Her mom replied.
“Ok!” Astrid ran out excitedly.
Astrid crouched down to enter the library through the secret backdoor.
“Boo!” Kai whispered making her flinch.
“Oh my god! You scared me Kai!” Astrid said while rolling her eyes.
“Haha! Sorry! But, how did it go?” he asked worriedly.
“Um...” Astrid acted like she was sad.
“Oh dear! Did they say no? Well, it’s ok right? There are many other things to be happy about.” Kai replied nervously.
“Just kidding! My mom said that I can pursue the career of an author, as long as I keep focusing on my current classes in school and text them when I go to the library.” Astrid said laughing.
“You got me back! I was so scared, but I am so happy for you! You are going to become a great author. Well, I am going to finish my book now.” Kai said while getting ready to read his book.
Astrid was almost done with Euphoria and she really liked one of the lines near the end of the book. “But at that moment the place feels entirely yours. It’s the briefest, purest euphoria.” Astrid read it out loud.
“I think sitting here with my best friend while reading in the library after hours and knowing that your parents finally approve of your dreams... that is my euphoria.” Astrid said with a wide grin to Kai.
He smiled back and was happy that his friend’s journey was about to start.
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8,337
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Start your story with an unexpected knock on a window.
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My Hell.
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TW: killing
Helen
The loud strange knock on my window has been keeping me up at night . My neighbours around me disappearing or being found dead only increased my fears. Today is not an exception. I heard the knock at exactly 1am the same as every other night before. I need to end my fears and put a stop to this uncertainty. I need to know who is knocking on my window.
Thump....thump.....thump.... thump....
My heart beats rapidly as I walk to the window. I need to know who continuously comes to knock at night. I have always wondered if or even when they will break into the house. It's not a wonder I do not sleep. constant anxiety and uncertainty imprison my mind.
The strange old man next door doesn't help at all. His eyes fixated on me every morning as I leave the house. His eyes watching my every move, its un-nerving and I always feel so uneasy.
With my sweaty palms and baseball bat, I make my way to the window. My anxiety increases immensely as the floor boards creak from underneath me with every step , Closer and closer to the window. My chest thuds as my heart races , its pounding so hard it hurts. I get to the window and take a deep breathe trying to find the bravery within me to take a look. I whip open the curtain as quickly as I can, no point in delaying the inevitable but I didn't see anyone, except for my car and the rusty old truck that belongs to the old man next door.
Maybe it was imagination maybe it wasn't, nothing seemed to make sense anymore.
As I am about to turn and go back, I think for a moment I saw something in the corner of my eye. Something or someone moved. I placed my face up against the cold window and I saw him...I saw my neighbor coming towards my window with an axe. I looked and our eyes locked. A whimper escaped my mouth and I knew at that moment, I knew I would be next. I backed up immediately to the darkness beside the window.
Panic and fear now raging through me. I took a deep breath and counted to 10. I moved to see if I could still see him or, If my mind was playing tricks on me. Gradually I moved my face to the window and I peered outside , his face was plastered on the window. He smiled and muttered, "you are next."
"Haaaaaaa" I screamed A blood curdling scream as I fell on my butt and crawled away from the window. I rushed to my phone to make a call but there was no signal.
This only means I can't call for help and am all alone.
"Oh God please...... Don't let him get to me. I promise to serve you if you save me this one time......" These were my prayers as I moved around the floor of my grandparents home.
I moved into this God forsaken house two weeks ago and I have never had a moment's peace since I got here. This town felt like it had its very own hell hole. Every day someone goes missing or found dead in their house.
I turned on the light and there was no fucking power. Why today of all days?.why now?
I was about to move towards the stairs when I heard the sound of glass shattering absently mindedly I ran towards the sound...as I rushed to it, lo' and behold my window was shattered into tiny pieces. I was so scared that I couldn't move. I was rooted to the spot with fear. When I came to realise what I should do, it was too late cause at that moment, a hand appeared, then another hand and then a face. I screamed and ran up stairs into my room. I opened my window to call for help but the whole street looks deserted. Not a single light was turned on in any of the houses.
Who asked me to move into this rotten house? I wanted to keep the last part of my family with me that's why am in this mess.
I was in my apartment when I got a call that my grandparents had been found dead in their living room. I rushed down but I wasn't allowed to see their body. I was told I would interfere with the investigation. Who ruins investigation by just looking at a body?. I never liked coming to this side of the world cause it's too quiet for my liking. You would hardly see a child running in the street during the day. I came to visit my grandparents two years ago and I never came back. This place creeps me out.
When they died, I couldn't bring myself to sell the house. I wanted to have a part of them with me. something to keep their memory alive, and that's why I kept the house and even moved in.
If only I had of known how creepy this area is, I would have never thought of, or, even stepped a foot here at all.
I was still lost in my thinking when I heard the creak of the floor boards on the staircase. "You can't hide from me Helen. I'll surely get you." I heard his creepy voice taunting me.
I Am trapped on the upper floor of the house and there is no way out from here.
If I want to escape then I need to pass by him on the stairs. I tip toed to my door and open it a little to peep out down the hallway towards the stairs. The hallway is dark but I can hear his heavy foot step and whatever he was dragging up the stairs with him.
I took tiny steps out of my room towards the attic. I know it would take a while before he finds me there and maybe by then I would have called for help.
*** Oscar ***
I have been living in this area since I was a kid and all I do, l learnt from my parents. Every old member of this area knows that all outsiders are to be killed. It is a tradition that have been in existence before I was born and no one has tried to stop it.
Well, anyone who tried to stop it, or, rat us out, never lived to tell the tale.
Today am to kill that bitch Helen. She thinks she is better than all of us simply because she drives a stupid fancy car and works in the city. You should see the way she rushes out every morning. Her parents were killed because they wanted to tell the police what we do. Her grandparents were too old and it was time they said good bye to the world. Now she is the only one left and I can't wait to watch how she begs when her life leaves her body. The strength to know that you have the power to take their life is what I love the most. It's exhilarating. I have been scaring the bitch every night by placing knocks on her window but, today will be her end. I watch as she runs up the stairs in fear. I know the layout of this house like the back of my palm and am going to play a game of hide and seek with her.
******* Helen *******
The attic is one part of this house I don't enter. Attics are used to store family things and that's what I expect of this particular one. I entered and shut the door behind me. I already decided that if this would be how I die, then I will die fighting. I won't go down without a fight. I was looking through all the boxes when I saw a journal. I was only looking for a weapon to use or something that could slow Oscar down so I get out to get help. I looked for anything and I found a short gun in one of the boxes. It was hidden among the clothes. It was hidden so well that one would say am lucky I found it. I took the journal and sat on a rocking chair I found among the boxes.
The first page of the journal made me understand it belonged to my grandparents. On the first page was also an instruction and layout of the house. The layout made me understand there is a door in my parents room that could lead me out of the house when there was an emergency. I read only a few pages forgetting that I was about to be killed. The book spells out the crime that has been happening in this closed area for centuries. It also state that my parents were killed because they wanted to get out of this hell hole called hellvalley town . It was obvious my grandparents put this together in a hurry because of the urgency of every word. They explained everything about this disgusting town into the journal. After a few pages, I was able to understand what was happening. I now know those missing people were all killed and I was about to become a victim too. I was about to put down the journal when I heard the heavy footstep of Oscar coming towards the attic. I quickly got up, picked the gun and journal and hid behind a huge box. I didn't even settle before the door banged open. I covered my mouth to stifle my whimper. I watched as he moved into the room and started looking around. He must think am harmless to be walking so freely.
I watched as he got close to where I was hiding and stopped. He smiled his creepy smile and said. "Come out Helen. I know you are in here. I will count to three and, if you don't come out then I will drag you out myself."
I didn't say a thing and continued watching him. "1......... Your time is going Helen. 2........ And the last minute......"
"Stop counting please." I said and came out of my hiding spot but I made sure I had the gun and journal tucked into my shirt.
"Good girl. Now come here and let's get this over with." He beckoned me.
I didn't make a move but instead, I engaged him In a conversation so as to plan my way out of this attic. "Why are you doing this? I have not offended you in anyway."
He laughed and said."it's not you. It's the system. We all get to die at a certain point in our lives and today happens to be your time."
He moved to grab me but I shoved him and ran towards the door. I didn't even get far before I was tackled down. I fell face flat and the journal flew out of my shirt. He made to grab it but I turned and started scratching him. Something in me told me that if he should see what that journal contains, then I'll be dead In a minute. I could feel his weight on me as he tried to hold me down. The will to survive is strong so, I managed to get away from him but I didn't make it to the stairs cause he blocked it already. I made a turn to go to my parents room but he was behind me and he had that his annoying smile on.
"You just made me angry you know. I wanted to give you a quick death but now you'll die a slow painful death." He said.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked him. I was sacred and my heart was about to pop out of my chest but I won't allow him see my fear. I'll try to get my car keys and leave this place and if anyone has to die, it will be him not me.
"Well it's fun. I have been doing it since I was a kid and I don't plan to stop anytime soon. I watched my parents kill your parents and I enjoyed how your parents begged. Your grandparents couldn't do anything than to send you to the city" He said with a smile and I hated him the more.
"So why do you want to kill me?" I asked him.
"You Annoy me and I hate seeing you. You act as if you are better than every one here. You all are good for nothing and I need to get rid of you." He said and it was obvious he really meant business.
I know I can survive and I promise I will. I just need to get him on this side and if am lucky, I'll get to my parent's room before he knows it. I tried to maneuver my way around him but he didn't give me an opening. That was when I remembered I had a gun on me.
"Please let me go Oscar, I promise never to come back and, I'll be tell a soul what happened here." I tried to negotiate.
"Hahahahaha." He laughed at me. "If you think I'll ever let you go then, you are a dreamer. I hate you to the core and your seat will give me immense pleasure." He said haughtily.
I have no choice now. My last option was the gun I found in the attic. I brought it out of my shirt pointed it at him. "Move out of my way or else I'll kill you right now." I threatened. He only look at me like I was a clown and smiled crookedly. My heart beat was too loud and I was sure he could hear it also. I tried to be brave but he could see that I wasn't as brave as I was letting on. With my shaky hands I tried to hold the gun steady and pointing it to him I took a shot. I guess that made him realise I wasn't joking.
At the next moment, he brought out a Swiss knife from his pocket and and took a swing at me. Before I felt his weight on me, I also took a shot and I taught "this the end" but then I hope I end him also. I felt his weight crash into me and I thought I'll never feel anything like It again. His weight on me was sucking the breath out of me but the thought that, I'll never see the sunrise again, was more agonizing. I was waiting for the knife to plunge into my heart but nothing like that happened.
Am I dead? I asked myself. Maybe that why I can't feel the pain of the knife?. If am dead then why can I feel his weight on me?. I tried to move my finger and I found i could move it.
At that moment, realisation struck me like a lightning. I felt blood soaking into my shirt but I know it wasn't mine. I wiggled myself till I was able to push Oscar off me. He rolled off and I saw his lifeless eyes looking at me. My heart was pounding so hard I felt it would burst. I pushed him and he just rolled over.
Yes. I did it. With no time to regret or think that I just killed a man, I rushed to my room, picked up my keys and dashed to my parent's room. I located the door and when I opened it, I knew I opened a new life. Everything about me changes today. Am no longer the innocent girl I used to be. I killed a man and I will not hesitate to kill anyone who stands in my way or, tries to stops me from living this hell hole.
I dashed into my car, ignited the engine and zoomed out of my drive way. With every house I pass, a window opens or a light is turned on. Good bye hell. I looked at the passenger seat and I see the journal and gun looking back at me. The further I go the better I feel, I'll Never return and that am sure of.
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4,454
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Write a story about somebody reminiscing on an event that happened many summers ago.
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My Sweet Apple 🍎
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I was only 9 years old when I lost my mother to terminal cancer. At that time I remember thinking why was this happening to me? My mother was more than just my parent she was my best friend and taught me vulnerable lessons about life. Today is my mother's birthday and every year my father and I cook a delicious supper as family and friends join us.After supper, I sit outside on the swing that is in my parent's backyard. This swing brings back so many memories of that summer 5 years ago. During my mother's dying days, I did all I could to spend as much time with her as possible. The swing is like a time machine it takes me back to that summer when my mother pushed me on the swing and told me how much she loved me.I could hear my mother's gentle voice in the wind and the sound of my laughter seem to be so clear.5 summers back Apple is sitting on the same swing but is 9 years old. "Higher! I want to go higher!" 9-year-old Apple shouts with laughter."How high?" Apple's mother says with a smile."High enough so that I can touch the sky."Apple's mother stops pushing her and walks in front of Apple so that she could be face to face with her."You know sooner or later mommy will be in the sky.""Will I be able to visit you?""I don't know yet, but once I do I'll come to you in your dreams."Apple hops off of the swing and into her mother's arms."Don't cry, my sweet Apple. I have all of the time to spend with you."Without a sound, Apple's tears fell down her face. Apple's mother lifts Apple's face out of her arms and grabs her hand. Apple holds on to her mother's pale hand as they both walk to the garden that she and her mother had planted. As their bodies sit in the center of the garden Apple's mother picks one of the sunflowers that stood out from the rest."Think of this sunflower as me Apple.Beautiful, healthy, and full of life.""It's hard to think of you as a sunflower, mommy.""How so?""Because the sunflower still has a long journey ahead of it yours will be cut short."Apple's mother places the flower on her lap so that she can hold her daughter's hand."Apple, my sweet apple. Everything comes to an end.""Everything?""Everything. Life is temporary which is why you should enjoy it. Promise me something Apple. Promise me that you will cherish life as long as you live. Even when I'm gone.""I promise mommy."14-year old Apple sits on the swing as the taste of tears fills her dry mouth."Apple?" The voice came from her father Franklin."Hi, dad.""Everyone was wondering where you had run off to.""I didn't run I just needed some fresh air I'll be back inside in a few minutes."Franklin sits on the ground beside Apple starting a conversation about her late mother."I know that the backyard is full of memories for you Apple.""Yeah, it's like as soon as I sit on the swing I could hear my 9-year-old self laughing as mommy pushes me from behind.""She would've been so proud of you. You start high school in the fall. Your mother would've been so proud to see you growing. Before she got sick she would tell me how much she loved seeing you grow every day.""Really?""Yeah, you know it was her idea of naming you Apple. I wanted to name you Beauty because I loved Beauty and the Beast but your mother wasn't buying. So one day when your mother was pregnant with you we stopped by the fruit stand on the way home and we saw a batch of apples. I remember your mother staring at those apples as if they were magic or something. Then she said I'm naming our daughter Apple. Not because it's a fruit but because I know she will be sweet and fruitful."Apple stares at her father as she bawls out with tears."I've never heard that story before. Thanks for sharing it with me daddy."Franklin gets himself off of the ground and hugs Apple tight."It'll be ok Apple. You've got me."As family and friends surround the table with a chocolate cake and burning candles. Apple smiles with joy.Even though I can't physically touch my mother I have great memories of her when she was living on this earth. She taught me so many things although I was too young to comprehend most of them I understand it now.My mother was right when she mentioned to me that life is temporary. It is and so is everything else that relates to life. We spend most of our time on earth thinking about things that won't matter in a day. We must teach ourselves to live in the present moment and capture every minute of the day because those are the things that will matter the next day.We often think that when our loved ones finally leave this earth that we will never see them again. We are told by our loved ones that we will see them in heaven. Well, that's half of the truth the other half is that they've never left our sides. They are with us when we are sleeping. They are even with us when we are sad, happy, lost, and furthermore. So don't think that just because we can't see them physically that they are not with us because that's not true.Shortly after everyone left from celebrating my mother's birthday I stare at the swing in our backyard from the kitchen window.At the first glance, I saw the same wooden swing but when I glanced again it appeared to me that something was placed on the swing.I opened the back door to the backyard and walked closer to the swing to get a closer look. When I approached the swing a beautiful sunflower laid across it.Tears immediately ran down my face. I know it was you, mommy, happy birthday.
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7,910
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Write about a character who gets called an Einstein ironically.
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Name: Tokyo Michelle "Einstein" Johnson-Tanaka
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Tokyo was her father’s idea. It was where her parents met. Her father was a tailor in the city and her mother was a pilot at the Yokota Airbase. At a party of mutual acquaintances, their eyes met from across the room and couldn’t stay off each other ever since. The words that they wanted to say to each other didn’t always exist in their tongues, but they could always find them in each other’s eyes. Pain. Doubt. Joy. And truth. It was how he knew long before she told him that she would eventually be leaving Tokyo. Her eyes showed how much it pained her to leave him and how reluctant she was to bring it up. On the night of her departure, she was nowhere in sight but he waited for her on the tarmac with a suitcase in one hand and a ring in the other. And as the engines started, she ran towards him from across the airfield with a surprise of her own. On the flight to their new home, he asked if they could name her Tokyo. It was his way of always having the city with them.Michelle was her mother’s idea. Tokyo was born on January 25th, 2009 - days after the presidential inauguration. As her mother watched the First Lady return to the White House, she was enamored with the idea of having the same family that she saw on the television screen. Two daughters in pink and purple coats, and their mother fervently beside them. When she held Tokyo in her arms for the first time, she felt like that dream had started to come into fruition. She looked down and imagined all the wonderful things that Tokyo would do and all the colorful coats that she would put her in. And so, she named her Michelle.Her last name was not one by choice. It’s a reminder of her family’s ancestry - one of suffering, resilience, and hope. Though her mother’s bloodline runs much deeper than the pages of American history, they start in the written records with Johnson. To her family, it’s a painful reminder of the monsters who share their last name - a lingering thread from the masters who withheld their body and spirit for centuries. But, to Tokyo, it was also a reminder of her grandmother who always told her how important being a Johnson was. After all, had it not been for Johnsons, we would have never made it to the moon.Tanaka, on the other hand, was a connection to a world that she had never truly known. Her father did his best to show her the customs and traditions but they could never fully capture the culture that came with her last name. As she got older, one-by-one, she began to meet her relatives and cousins. In a lot of ways, they weren’t so different from her. They enjoyed the same food and shared similar clothing styles. But, when Tokyo would play with her cousins in particular, she began to notice one key difference between them - their hair. She liked their hair more. It was soft and shined against the light with a glossy reflection.It didn’t bother Tokyo too much but it would come to mind on the Sunday nights before school when she and her mother would wash their hair. Her mother would sit her on the bathroom sink and start by breaking the tangles all the way to her nape. She would run a comb gently against her scalp and spray shampoo at the roots of her follicles. Tokyo could always see how excited her mother was to do creative things with her hair. On some nights, the parts above her eyes would be sectioned first into geometric shapes. And on others, her mother would make braids that fell to the sides of her head.By the start of fourth grade, Tokyo wanted to wear her hair more naturally and let it fall from her head like her cousins. Her mother did her best to neatly comb and prepare it, but as she looked in the mirror and at the curls on the floor, it never quite looked the way she hoped it would.On most school days, her mother would leave early for work and so her father would drive her to school. He would pack her backpack and paint her bento box in food from every color. He made sure that all the pencils in her pencil case were sharp. And that the erasers, highlighters, and safety scissors were all in their proper places. On some days, he would even leave a note for her to find later in the day.During the drive, Tokyo would normally talk to her father or sing to the radio. But on one December morning, she was noticeably more quiet.“Tokyo-chan, are you okay?”“I’m just tired.”“Hmm. Even when you’re tired, you still sing Fifth Harmony. What’s wrong?”“I’m just thinking... about my hair.”“What happened with your hair?”“It’s just messy,” she sighed. “Like all the time.”“Well, I like that about your hair. I think it’s beautiful. It’s your mother’s hair... And I like that it’s a little messy.”A long silence filled the space between them. A silence familiar to most fathers that could only be filled with something wise or foolish.“You know who actually had hair like yours?“Who?”“Albert Einstein.”“Who’s that?”“He was the smartest person in the world... All because of his hair.”“Hair makes you smart?”“Aye! You didn’t know that, Tokyo-chan? That’s why you’re going to be the smartest scientist doctor movie star.”He could hear Tokyo’s laugh from the backseat and as he peered through the rearview mirror, he could see her smiling out the window.“Hey... You know what we could do for your birthday this year? What if we did a science-themed birthday party with your fourth grade classmates. We could do some big fun experiments outside and have science-themed foods.“That sounds fun!” she laughed. “And I could be Albert Einstein.”“Of course... We can’t have a science party without Einstein.”Tokyo didn’t know it yet, but her 8th birthday left a lasting impression on her. If you asked her now, she could probably tell you about the foam experiments and the beaker-shaped crockery. The slimey souvenirs that her friends took home and falling asleep that night in her lab coat. It was the beginning of her love for science and as the year went on, this would only continue to grow. She would go through science videos online and share them with her father on the trips to school. She would beg that their family vacations be spent at the museums and science centers. And most importantly, the name Einstein began to stick. In fact, it was how she introduced herself to her fifth grade teacher that Fall.-“Attention, fifth grade scholars. Can I have everyone’s eyes and ears please? This afternoon, we’re going to continue our Math lesson because we’re going to take a Science test tomorrow morning. We’re also going to move ELA from tomorrow morning to tomorrow afternoon and finish both days with Social Studies. The Science test will not be a grade. It’s a placement test for a new after-school program starting soon.”Although it had only been a month into fifth grade, Einstein enjoyed being in Ms. Saromi’s class. Ms. Saromi was the first black teacher that Einstein ever had and she felt an inexplicable kinship with her. Ms. Saromi wore long colorful dresses that fell to her ankles and her hair in braids that reached her middle of her back. She spoke in a way that blended care and rigorousness, and she would often check on Einstein more often than any teacher she had before.Ms. Saromi was aware of Einstein’s affinity for science. On the days that they did labs, Einstein would often be the first to ask when the next labs were. And during science lessons, Einstein would always drive the conversation in curious directions with something that she read or saw prior. She would veer lessons on the basics of weather to museum exhibits on El Nino and discussions on fossils to how scientists predicted the colors of dinosaurs. Although Ms. Saromi was seldom equipped to have these conversations, there was something about Einstein’s enthusiasm that she admired.“Ms. Saromi, is there anything we can do to prepare for the test?”“That’s a great question, Einstein. I think that it’s going to cover math, writing, and some basic skills for the program.”That afternoon, Einstein asked her father if they could stop by the library to see what might be on the test. She found her way to the children’s section and as she sat in the aisle of books, she began to take them off the shelves. They were decorated with wild animals and distant planets, with questions that she enjoyed reading about like what each part of the brain did or why the Earth and the Moon both needed each other. But, she couldn’t find any of the things that Ms. Saromi mentioned. Hardly any of the books had math except for numbers and there were very few places in the books where you could write.The next morning, her father packed her things. Her mother wished her luck. And when she arrived at Ms. Saromi’s room, a laptop sat ready on her desk.“Good morning, fifth grade. You’re going to need your full name and birthday to login to the test. So, if anyone needs help with that information, I’ll be coming around.”When the test began, Einstein saw places to enter her Date of Birth, First, Middle and Last Name. She first entered 01/25/2009. Then, Tokyo. Michelle. And Johnson-Tanaka. But as she looked at the screen, an odd feeling came over her - the kind of feeling you get when a familiar word looks misspelled or when you feel like a stranger in your own body.It didn’t help that the test was nothing like she had ever seen before. There was math in the form of tables and charts, and writing in the form of paragraphs and texts. But it looked nothing like the science that she was used to. It didn’t have any of the wild animals or distant planets from those library books. The diagrams and displays didn’t amaze her like they did in the museums. And the experiments didn’t have the wonder that she was accustomed to seeing.When the fifth grade class returned from lunch that day, students were instructed to find a quiet place to read independently. Einstein grabbed her book and found a spot by the door. Although the room was quiet, she could hardly focus on any of the pages in front of her. All she could think about was the test.Eventually, someone stopped by the door and handed an envelope to Ms. Saromi.“Ms. Saromi?” she whispered as she watched Ms. Saromi open the envelope. “Are those for the Science program?”She hesitated, “They’re just the first few. Some students still need to make up the test.”“But for the ones who took the test?”She nodded. “Keep reading. I’ll start passing these out.”Einstein did her best to focus, but would continue to look over at Ms. Saromi from time to time. And as each pass from the envelope was left on a different desk, the thought of not making it into the science program began to sink in.“Alright, fifth grade readers, we’re going to shift into Social Studies now. Please finish your last page and update your DEAR logs. Then, take out a highlighter and your Social Studies books.”All the students returned to their seats and some were met with passes to the science program. But as Einstein looked around and under her desk, she couldn’t find her pass.“Ms. Saromi, did I not get into the Science program?”“I’m sorry, Einstein.”A guilt began to fill Ms. Saromi. She was at a loss for words and didn’t know if saying more would do more harm than saying nothing at all.“You know what though?” she added. “I’m going to talk to the principal and see if there’s anything we can do.”“But I didn’t pass the test,” Einstein replied.“Maybe the test is just to figure out who might like the program and we already know you like Science. I’ll talk to the principal tomorrow and see if we can work on something. After all, how can we have a science program at our school without Einstein?”Something about the name, Einstein, no longer sat well with her anymore. It was a name that she felt like she didn’t deserve. As she took out the highlighter from her pencil case for Social Studies, she found the note that her father must have left her from this morning.Good luck, Einstein. You’re a superstar scientist doctor movie star!Tears began to well in Einstein’s eyes. And when Ms. Saromi turned away, Einstein ran out to the bathroom with her safety scissors in hand. She bursted through the doors and stood in front of the sink. Her hair had covered the edges of her eyes and spread past the width of her shoulders. And as she looked at her frustration in the mirror, she raised the scissors to her head and began to cut away at her hair. Some of the curls fell down quickly. And others, she would gnaw at until they were severed off. Her hair continued to fall until her thumbs pained and could no longer press her scissors together anymore. The last breaths of anguish left her lungs and only a deep shame remained within her.As she made her way back to the classroom through the empty hallways, the last pieces of her hair fell. She turned the corner and stood in the doorway of Ms. Saromi’s room as the eyes of everyone in the class shifted towards her. A sadness overwhelmed her and her eyes began to overflow onto the carpet floor.“Alright everyone,” as Ms. Saromi ran to her desk. “Create a vocabulary list for this chapter. Put the words from Page 26 under your Do Now.”Ms. Saromi grabbed the silk bonnet from her handbag and joined Einstein in the hallway.“Would you like me to cover your hair?” she asked.“Yes please,” Einstein said tearfully.Ms. Saromi delicately placed her hair in and wrapped the ribbon around her eyes and forehead. Einstein kept the bonnet on for the remainder of the day and after her father picked her up, he brought her to the bathroom and sat her on the sink to take it off. He combed out her hair and did his best to even it out on both sides.“Tokyo-chan,” he asked. “Did someone bully you?”“No. I just wasn’t happy with my hair today.”He nodded, and began to moisturize and roll her hair to her head. When he finished, Einstein went off to her room and pretended to sleep. Through the night, she could hear her mother downstairs and her mother’s footsteps walk towards her room, but she kept still to escape the shame of talking to her.The next day, her mother took work off to take her to school. She found a spot around the corner of the school entrance and turned the car engine off.“Are you okay, Einstein?” her mother asked.“I don’t think I want to be called Einstein anymore.”“Why’s that, baby?”“I’m not smart enough.”“Just because you didn’t get into the Science program doesn’t mean that you’re not smart, Tokyo Michelle. You are one of the brightest, most enthusiastic students at your school. And I know it. Your father knows it. And Ms. Saromi, who called yesterday, knows it.”A long silence filled the space between them. A silence familiar to most mothers that could only be filled with something wise or foolish.“You know, sweetie, the funny thing about Einstein... is that most of the things he said, no one believed. And most of the things he thought, no one could comprehend. And I bet that if he didn’t do well on that same test you took, he wouldn’t have let that stop him either... And that’s what makes you a real Einstein, Tokyo Michelle. Because if you want to do Science, no test should convince you otherwise.”“Thanks, mom.” as she gave a slight smile.“I love you, baby.”“I love you too.”She made her way through the hallways and greeted Ms. Saromi as she arrived at her room. And when she looked at her desk, she saw it - a pass to the science program with her name on it. Tokyo Johnson-Tanaka, please meet Dr. Jackson in the auditorium during lunch today for an orientation to the after-school program.“Greetings, young scientists! It’s great to meet you all. I’m Dr. Jackson, the coordinator for the after-school Science program. We’re just going to get started with a quick attendance check. And when I call your name, let me know if you have a nickname or another name that you prefer.”As she sat there in front of Dr. Jackson, she wondered what she would say. She thought about her mother and her father. About Ms. Saromi, her cousins, and her grandmother. And everything that had happened in the last few days and year.“Tokyo?” Dr. Jackson asked. “Tokyo Johnson?”She raised her hand.“Hi, Tokyo. It’s great to meet you... Is Tokyo what you like to go by?”She smiled at Dr. Jackson, uncertain of what she was supposed to say but more certain of who she was now. She was Tokyo Michelle “Einstein” Johnson-Tanaka, and she was the parts that she was proud of and the parts that she was still growing to love, all living harmoniously within her.
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526
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Start your story with someone sitting on a crowded train and end it with them looking out over beautiful natural scenery.
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Next Stop: Eternity (the sequel to "Proof Positive")
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Roughly south-southwest of the town of Uyuni in western Bolivia is a train graveyard. So the story goes, every new moon, a ghost train arrives at the graveyard. It stops for several minutes, as if picking up passengers, and then moves on again, disappearing in the darkness.
This was the information Boss gave us in Washington DC. This and up-to-date photos, some from satellites, but mostly from the ground. Not much in the grand scheme of things, but that was why we were being sent there. To flesh it out. To make it more than just a skeleton, unlike the remains of the locomotives at the train graveyard. To see if there was any truth to the story.
---------
Pan looked over at me as I drove the old, beat-up VW Beetle through the town of Uyuni. The late afternoon sunlight seemed to paint stretched-out shadows from west to east.
“Of all the places the Boss could send us, Shiga, and he sends us here?” She looked out the front windshield at the buildings, homes, and people passing by. “The locals must think we're crazy, from the looks they keep giving us. Maybe we should've accepted the Nazca assignment instead.”
I smiled briefly. “We could always go back to northern Alaska.”
She shook her head. “No thanks. You nearly got killed by that yeti. It just seems that Boss seems to enjoy sending us to these way-out-of-the-way places.”
“We go where the myths and legends are,” I said with a shrug. “At least it isn't boring.”
“There's a difference between boring and deadly,” Pan said.
“Besides, at least this time there won't be anyone there,” I said. “It's uninhabited except for the trains and any tourists.”
“Definitely uninhabited?” she asked.
“That's why we're here,” I replied.
She rolled her eyes. “Wonderful.”
---------
Back in Washington DC, in an upstairs office at the Smithsonian Castle, I remember Pan giving Boss a sour look and asking, “Where to this time?”
“South America,” he replied. “Unless you'd rather go back to Alaska?”
She shook her head. “No thanks.”
“There are two assignments to choose from: Nazca or the train graveyard,” Boss said.
“We could always go to Area 51,” Pan suggested.
“That assignment's already taken,” Boss said.
“Imagine my relief,” Pan said sarcastically.
“If it's okay with you,” I told her, “I think the train graveyard sounds more interesting.” I looked at Boss. “But why are you interested in it? It's a real thing, not a myth. Unless, of course, there are ghosts haunting it.”
“There are,” he said. “There's even an entire ghost train.”
“And if it turns out to be nothing more than a myth?” I asked.
“Then you get a free trip to western Bolivia,” Boss replied. “The locals asked us to investigate it. Maybe they got tired of one mysterious late-night train whistle too many. They called it the tren fantasma.”
“Have they ever seen it?” Pan asked.
Boss nodded. “Some have. One even claims to have stepped on board the train. He says it went around the entire world in one night.”
“Like Santa Claus on Christmas Eve,” Pan said.
“It dropped him off at the central train station in La Paz,” Boss went on. “Over three hundred miles from his starting point.”
“And no one noticed it?” I asked. “A man stepping off an invisible train?”
“Maybe they're uncomfortable discussing it,” Boss replied. “At least in public.”
“Which is why we're meeting our contact at the train graveyard,” Pan said.
Boss nodded again.
“Halloween, here we come,” she said sarcastically.
---------
We arrived at the outskirts of the train graveyard. Our contact, a local Bolivian, was waiting for us. He was more relaxed than we were. He was definitely more used to the locale and the altitude here in the Andes. At least it wasn't as high as Cuzco or Lake Titicaca.
“Buenos tardes, mi amigos,” he said as he approached the car. “Welcome to the cementario de trenes.”
We shook hands.
“I'm Shiga,” I said.
“Pan,” Pan said.
“Julio,” he said. “There is no one here today except us. Where would you like to go first? There is much to see and” – he smiled – “there is a new moon tonight.”
Pan didn't exactly look enthusiastic. “How nice.”
I hid a smile. “Where does the train usually arrive?”
“At the abandoned depot,” Julio said.
“And always at midnight?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Then let's have a look around until dinnertime,” I suggested.
---------
Some of the trains were over a hundred years old. Rusted hulks. Remnants of the old transportation network that crossed the altiplano of Bolivia for decades before being delivered here and discarded.
I looked inside one locomotive to see where it was built. The plaque on the side said: Quito, Ecuador, 1913. The coal bunker had a small pile of coal ash inside it and the coal truck behind the locomotive was mostly empty.
Another train was built in 1909 in Sao Paolo, Brazil. The boiler had fallen off and lay on the ground next to the locomotive. There was much left of the locomotive itself except an old cloth engineer's cap.
“No sense in recycling any of the trains?” I asked Julio. “At least for spare parts?”
He shrugged. “It is cheaper and easier to build new. Why keep the old?”
The wind rose, blowing dirt across the train graveyard. We covered our faces as we went from train to train. At least, inside the few intact passenger cars that had closed windows, there was some protection. The ones with windows stuck in the open position were like skeletons, cloth seats and carpets pretty much gone. Not even any signs of animals moving in, to use the trains as shelter.
“Does anything live up here?” Pan asked Julio.
"At the train graveyard or in general?” he replied.
“Both,” she said.
“Condors, llamas, alpacas, rodents,” he said.
“But no one lives here?” she asked, pointing at the trains around us.
Julio shook his head. “Por que? Nothing to eat, nothing to drink. When the high winds and storms come, even what little shelter exists is not enough. Better and safer to live in Uyuni instead.”
Safer from the weather, or from something more down-to-earth? I wondered. What wasn't Julio telling us and why not?
----------
We stopped for dinner a few hours later, sitting on a few of the still-intact chairs inside a passenger car. I could imagine the passengers riding inside it. A crowded, noisy, and smelly combination of humans and animals. The view of the mountains and deserts outside the windows. The rails climbed snakelike back and forth, making it somewhat easier to climb the steeper grades.
Outside, it was getting dark. Nocturnal animals, if any, would be waking up, ready to make their nightly search for food.
I wondered how cold it would get by the time midnight rolled around. I almost wished I'd thought to bring a few blankets along. But I wasn't expecting us to stay here overnight. We had a room at a hacienda in Uyuni that looked comfortable enough. I almost wished we were there instead of here, in the middle of nowhere.
Come on, Shiga, I told myself. If you can survive in northern Alaska, you can survive here in the Andes. If Pan isn't complaining, then why are you?
--------
A few minutes before midnight, lit by flashlights, we reached the abandoned depot. It was in better shape than I expected, except for the cracked and broken windows. Inside, there was one still-intact wooden bench, the broken remnants of other wooden benches, a clock on the wall that seemed to still work, a counter where passengers could buy their tickets and ask about train arrival and departure times. The date on one of the poster-sized schedules on the walls was already more than fifty years out of date.
The three of us sat on the wooden bench. It was a little bit cramped but better than nothing.
“Reminds me of the last days of Penn Station,” I said. “My grandfather told me that it was like walking inside a tomb before it was demolished, to make way for Madison Square Garden. A place where so many had arrived and departed. Now nothing more than old photographs and memories.”
“Is that why you wanted this assignment, Shiga?” Pan asked. “A way to time-travel back to those times?”
“Think about all these trains, Pan,” I replied. “They weren't skeletons once. They were living, breathing machines, transporting people all across Bolivia. But now they're silent. Whatever memories they once contained are fading fast, if they're not gone already.”
“You didn't answer my question,” she said.
“Yes and no,” I said. “Yes, I wanted to see a place like my grandfather had once seen when he was my age. Places that were commonplace across America. Until the airplane replaced them. Probably like what happened when the horse-drawn carriage was replaced by the train. It's sad that so much is lost with technological improvements. So much history and culture. The drive to develop something better, faster. In the process, taking us further and further away from what came before it.”
“And no?” she prompted.
“No, I didn't want to be reminded that we humans are too willing to put the past behind us,” I said. “For some of us, history is irrelevant. Now is far more important than then. It's only when something old and beautiful is demolished and gone for good that we suddenly wake up and realize what we've lost. It happened to Penn Station, it happened to Hotel Seattle, and it's probably happened far more times than I'd care to think about.”
“We do not forget here in Bolivia,” Julio told me.
“Some of you do,” I reminded him, “or there wouldn't any need for a train graveyard.”
It was then that we heard the whistle. Distant, but getting closer. The clock on the wall said it was almost midnight.
“It is coming,” Julio announced and stood up.
We stepped outside the depot, onto the platform. To our left, a headlight beam grew from a small point to blindingly bright as something large, long, dark, and slightly fuzzy slowed to a stop.
It was like looking at something through a thin wall of fog. It seemed more dreamlike than real.
A semi-transparent conductor stepped off of the train. He saw us and waved us over to him.
“We don't have any tickets,” I told him.
“No need, no need,” the conductor whispered. “Climb aboard. Departure in a few minutes. Take any seat you want.”
“Is anyone else traveling on it tonight?” I asked.
“Always someone traveling on it,” the conductor said. “Never empty.”
We climbed aboard the nearest train car. The conductor followed, closing the entry/exit door behind him.
It was dead silent inside the train car. But not unoccupied. Every seat seemed to be taken. Some had men sitting in them, some had mothers with babies sitting in them, some had children sitting in them. They looked at us with empty eyes and then looked away again.
We found a few empty seats and sat down. As we sat there, the conductor quickly went through the car, checking to see how everyone was.
Moments later, there was a whistle and then the train started up, quickly leaving the depot behind.
“Next stop is Rio de Janeiro, 1896,” the conductor announced. “All those involved in the train wreck along the way must disembark before the next stop.”
Pan and I watched in fascination as some of the passengers stood up, gathering their belongings, and making sure they were all together. They half-floated, half-walked to the entry/exit door, and waited. There was a huge explosion and the entire train shuddered. After the passengers stepped off the train, we saw emergency vehicles, lights, and sirens. The train didn't stop even momentarily.
“I feel like I'm dreaming,” Pan said.
“Same here,” I said.
We reached Rio de Janeiro and found ourselves more than a hundred years in the past. Passengers in Victorian clothes disembarked, while others climbed aboard. Some looked like they'd been injured. They didn't seem to notice their injuries; they simply found their seats and sat down. One woman looked like she'd drowned. She was holding a baby in her arms. The baby didn't seem to be breathing.
“How is this possible?” Pan asked Julio.
“To the dead, all times and places are possible,” he replied. “It seems strange to us because we are the only living persons aboard this train. To them, it is completely normal.”
“Is it the same every night?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I have been to Europe during wartime, both wars. I have also been to the world of the future after the end of the Final War. A place I do not wish to return to. Too much death and destruction. But I have also seen the world as it was thousands of years ago. Such beauty and peace. I watched as a saber-toothed tiger jumped over the train. I watched horses, elephants, and other animals bathing under a waterfall.”
“Any people back then?” I asked.
“Very few,” Julio replied. “So many times we could have gone extinct. But we survived. Again and again, we survived. Sometimes I almost wish we hadn't. The world might have been a better place without us.” He shrugged.
“Next stop: London, 1941,” the conductor announced. “Those who were killed by falling bombs and fires must disembark.”
Another group of passengers, larger than the last time, stood up and grouped themselves near the entry/exit doors.
Outside the train, I saw large, dark buildings outlined by flames. Firemen pointing hoses at the fires, trying to put them out. Overhead, the distant lights of passing planes. Were they friendly or enemy? Then one plane fell out of the sky, burning brightly with a long comet-like trail of smoke behind it. It crashed into the train. No one blinked, no one commented.
The train stopped for a few moments. The passengers near the entry/exit doors departed the train. I thought I heard a baby cry. Somewhere outside the train were the sounds of falling bombs, collapsing buildings, and the sirens of fire engines and ambulances.
Pan looked very upset this time. “They can't keep doing this! Why can't someone stop this!”
“They do what they must,” Julio told her. “This is the price they must pay: the price of their half-life. They haunt these times and places, just as those times and places haunt them. It cannot be changed.”
“Ever?” she asked him, tears on her cheeks.
He shook his head.
Pan leaned toward me, her eyes closed, and her face against my shoulder. I put my arms around her and held her.
“I hate this train,” she whispered. “I hate it, I hate it! I wish we'd never gotten onboard it. Please tell me we can get off of it.”
“I don't think we can,” I whispered back. “At least not yet.”
“I can't take it,” she whispered. “I'm not looking anymore. Just hold me, Shiga. Just hold me.”
The train pulled out of London, 1941, and headed to its next destination.
There was no announcement of the next stop. Maybe there wasn't any need for it. At least, not for the dead passengers.
We were traveling between sections of forest. Ahead was a wooden gateway. On either side of it were high wooden walls with barbed wire on top of them. There was a sign at the gateway: ARBEIT MACHT FREI. The train came to a stop and all the rest of the passengers – except us – disembarked. The train car felt as empty as a tomb.
Julio stood up. His clothes had changed. He wasn't dressed in Bolivian garb; he was dressed as a German soldier. “I must leave, too. This is my final stop.”
“But you're alive,” I protested. “You can return with us.”
He shook his head. “I have avoided my punishment long enough. It is time to do my penance. I wish you safe journey back to the train graveyard, meine Freunden. Tchus.”
I watched as he stepped off of the train. He stood there, falling further and further behind until I couldn't see him anymore.
“Next stop: train graveyard, 2021,” the conductor announced. “Thank you for traveling with us tonight.”
Minutes later, the train stopped at the abandoned depot. It was as if the journey had never happened, except that Julio wasn't with us anymore.
“What happened to Julio?” Pan asked me.
“He had to go to Auschwitz,” I replied.
“Then we won't see him again?” she asked.
“Not in this life,” I said.
We stepped off of the train and it left the depot moments later.
But it wasn't the same as before. Something had changed. Instead of the rusted hulks of trains, there was a meadow stretching as far as we could see. Wildflowers were scattered across it, a multi-colored sea. It was quite a contrast to the three train stations we had been to. As if we had been granted a glimpse of heaven after going through hell.
“Are we where I think we are?” Pan asked, looking around us. “I don't think Boss is going to believe any of this.”
Someone who looked like Boss walked down the tracks toward us. He smiled and waved. We waved back.
“Ready for your next journey?” he asked us.
“Where are we going?” Pan asked him.
“Next stop: eternity,” he replied.
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3,635
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Frame your story as an adult recalling the events of their childhood.
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No mobiles!
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Mark paused. Now reaching his mid-sixties, grey-haired and beginning his sunset years, he was enjoying quality time with his two grandchildren. He had retired and was now enjoying his free time immensely.
Timothy and William, his two grandchildren, were listening carefully to him. He took a sip of his freshly brewed coffee as he paused.
"Have a bite of the chocolate cake your Grandma has baked for you." They started to take huge bites of the cake as they demanded,
"Tell us more, Grandpa, tell us more about what happened to you in those days?" they asked in unison.
Mark smiled as he relived his past in his storytelling. "We had to walk to school in those days. There were some omnibuses and the like, but not all of us could afford them. Me and my sister used to walk to school every day, both ways."
"Really? No school buses like for us? Or Dad dropping you in his car?"
"No. We walked."
"Just the two of you?"
"My sister used to go to a different school from mine. Both of us had some friends from our schools. Some four or five of us used to walk together and go."
"Wasn't it dangerous to walk all the way, Grandpa? What about speeding vehicles and road crossings?"
"Oh! in those days we had less traffic. The roads were few and we had special crossings for kids. The Policeman used to help us and stop the traffic till we crossed the main road."
"Wouldn't you feel tired by the time you reached school?" asked Timothy, looking intently at Grandpa.
Mark smiled as he responded, "No Tim. We used to have a good breakfast and start. Our Mum used to make sure that we have a good breakfast before we set out to school. We also had to carry our lunch in a box."
"What? No canteen at school offering fresh and hot meals for lunch?" piped in William.
"No Willy. We had to carefully take what Mum had packed for our lunch. But it was great fun sharing our lunch with friends. Occasionally, even our teacher also would join in. It was great fun. We all ate a little bit of all the different lunches our mums had sent."
"Really! That must have been good. What do you think, Timmy?" William asked.
Looking thoughtful, Timothy asked, "I heard from Gram the other day that there were many poor and homeless people in those days. Where any of your friends from poor families, who could not afford to bring their lunch? What about them? Would they feel left out?"
"Ah! This is what I wanted to tell you both boys! Listen to me now. We did have a few boys who were from poor families. Most of the time they could not get their lunch. In fact, they would come to school famished because sometimes they had no food at home for anyone."
"How dreadful? How could they walk to school and sit for classes with empty stomachs?"
"Let me tell you what we did with Richie and Paul. They were twins from a poor family and would always ask us for some food as soon as we meet in the morning. Even before the School Assembly. Both they and some of us would come to school a little earlier."
"So, what would you do?" asked Timothy eagerly.
"This is how we managed. My friends and I used to ask our mums to pack a little food extra and give us. We used to give that food to Paul and Richie. Even at lunchtime, we used to share our food with them."
"Then you guys would have less food to eat for your lunch. Wouldn't you also feel hungry then?" asked William.
"Somehow, boys, our food, as we shared and ate with these fellows, sufficed for all of us. We all used to feel satisfied and happy to share."
"Was it a miracle? We heard about how a young boy shared his lunch and the Lord Jesus blessed and fed some 5000 people with it?"
Grinning widely, Mark replied, "That' s a good way to connect, Timmy. Actually, it was not a big miracle like that. One thing was that we used to pray and ask God to bless our food before we shared and ate it with all these fellows. So, it was enough for all of us."
"That sounds wonderful Grandpa! Small miracles daily? I am sure you all must have become good friends later in life too?"
Mark paused again as he recalled them. "Yes, boys. Richie worked hard and became a Pastor. he is with a church down South. Paul has gone as a missionary and is serving the Lord in Africa. They are in Botswana, serving the Lord. God has blessed them abundantly. We still are in contact through email and WhatsApp."
"Grandpa, Grandpa, what a great childhood you had? Our school days seem bland in contrast?"
"Things are different now surely boys but remember to have the Word of God in the center of your life, then God will give you good memories to treasure too. One day you will be sharing your own memories with your grandchildren," said Mark with a twinkle in his eyes, as he drained his coffee cup and gazed lovingly at them. Both looked at him with dreams in their eyes.
"But Grandpa," said Timothy as he remembered something, "Is it true that in those days you had no mobiles, no internet and no Google? No nothing? What about Candy crush and the other computer games? How did you all manage as kids in those days? Please tell us."
"This calls for some more cake and coffee," said Mark as he sent the boys to the kitchen with the empty plate and his coffee cup. They came back in a few minutes with reinforcements.
The lovely smells of coffee and freshly baked cake competed with each other as they wafted up to the noses of the grandfather and the kids. They sighed contently. Mark picked up his cup and started sipping while the boys each took a large slice and started eating. Silence reigned for some time. The only sound was that of the sipping and the munching.
Fortified by the coffee, Mark started speaking.
"In those days, when I was the age you are in now, we didn't have smartphones. Neither did we have games as you call them now. But we had a lot of fun. We went out and played in the streets and on playgrounds with our friends. Yes, we used to go and play physically. We used to get dirty too and get scolded by our mums!"
"But how would you do your homework without Google or the Internet to help you?"
" We used to listen carefully in the classroom. Then if we had a doubt we used to go to the library. We had a small one at home and a larger one at school. A much larger and better one was in the Town Hall. In fact, that was my favorite haunt when I was in school. Oh! what a pleasure it was to go to the library and sit for hours together!"
"Yah! I heard about something called an Encyclopedia. What was it, Grandpa?"
"Oh! That was our Google then. There were some 27 to 30 volumes, each one huge and having thousands of pages. They had all information then available put forth in a systematic fashion. Alphabetically. We just had to select the right volume and browse through it. It took some effort from us but was very rewarding. I remember stopping by and reading other pages as we were searching for an entry. That was my favorite distraction!"
"But Grandpa, how would you play? No Game boxes and Play stations?"
"Oh, we used to have fun playing live games outdoors. We would play baseball, football, and cricket. And other folk games like hopscotch, hide and seek, and what not. They were so exhausting. Our Mum used to send us straight for a bath after we came home. But we enjoyed every bit of playing with friends. All our games were live."
"What would you do if it snowed or rained outdoors Grandpa?"
"Good question, Willy. Then we had a store on inboard games: Carroms, Snakes and ladders, Monopoly, Ludo, Scrabble, Chess and so on. My favorite was snakes and ladders. We used to go up and down many times before reaching the goal. Even Monopoly was very engaging. We used to play Scrabble sometimes with grownups too! Those were the days, indeed."
Mark went off into a reverie, reliving his past as a child in his grandfather's home. The boys William and Timothy sat in awe as they considered how their grandpa’s childhood was.
"I didn't know you all had such an active and fun time when you were kids Grandpa. I always thought that life without the internet and smartphones or Tabs would have been boring and monotonous! Looks like your lifestyle was even better than ours now!"
"It was Timmy, it was, indeed. We didn't even know about smartphones and the like then. And books, I forgot. My favorite pastime was to read books. I used to read all sorts of fiction and science fiction was my favorite genre. I was a regular in the Town Hall Library. Every time I used to borrow books and return them. The Librarian was fond of me and used to let me borrow new books even before cataloging them. Of course, I was faithful in returning them."
As the two little boys listened to him and thought through, values were being passed as a legacy through the generations.
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1,656
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Start your story with a metaphor about human nature.
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No return?
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He continued to argue with the older man. They were in a cafe sipping coffee. The young man broke out, "Is this my point of no return?"
Uncle Japheth smiled and was silent for a while. He slowly replied, "The point of no return takes time in this case, James."
They were discussing their faith or the lack of the same. A discussion they had had a lot in recent times. Japheth, a committed believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, had been sharing the gospel with his young nephew, James, for the past few years, almost.
James, young as he was, dabbled in more than one thing at a time. Various controversial practices. He wanted to enjoy life to its full. Having no fixed ideology or worldview, James was going on a roller coaster ride as far as his beliefs were concerned. An interesting fellow indeed!
He was in contact with some fellows and was toying with the idea of getting in to find out all about a secretive sect. He asked Uncle Japheth.
"Uncle, met this guy at a bar last weekend. He is out recruiting people for his Master's sect. He says he is feeling fulfilled in this secret sect. He gave me the spiel about it. Sounded interesting to me. Wanted to know more. But he then clammed up. He said, 'We can tell you more only if you make a commitment to the Master.' I was flabbergasted. How can I commit myself without knowing the basics about it? But apparently, there are people who do it. What do you say, Uncle?"
Taking a deep breath, Japheth took a long sip from his cappuccino. He paused and then looked straight at James. Fixing him with his eyes, he spoke, "my dear James, there are many such sects and heresies coming up nowadays. The Lord Jesus Himself prophesied that such things come in the last days. We are in the last days now. You have to be very careful not to get into such things."
"Why ever not?" he shot off.
"These groups thrive on gullible young fellows like you. They will make a commitment for life. They have secret rites involving the occult. Once you are in, you will be forced to go for recruitment drives and your life will be sucked out. You can only come out at the risk of your life. Be very careful James. These are not for you."
"Don't you think I can take care of myself? I want to go in for a dare and find out all I can about the group. After that, I will come back. Perhaps I will see the right way you are following. But that's for later on. Let me see life and enjoy myself a bit, dear Uncle." He paused and took a long sip from his cup.
Pausing for a quick word of silent prayer, Japheth countered, " James you are playing with fire. Take care. You are now standing at the point of no return, perhaps. I can only pray for you as you have decided on your course of action. Remember that I am always available, even when you are in danger. I will be praying for you."
"Thank you for looking out for me dear Uncle."
They both parted ways.
Japheth had some youngsters who were the friends of James. He kept a track of him for a few weeks. But even his informants told him that they were not seeing James for a week or so, in their usual haunts. He seemed to have disappeared, they said.
Japheth went to his sister Jessie's home. She was the widowed mother of James, who doted on him very much.
"Hello Jessie, how are you?"
"Come, come, Japheth, I myself wanted to call or talk to you now."
Japheth saw that his sister was red-eyed and she seemed quite disturbed. He immediately hugged her. She broke out into sobs in his arms. She stopped sobbing after quite some time. Composing herself, she said, " Japheth! I haven't heard from my boy for over three days now. He was never like this. Wherever he went, he would always call me at least once before he went to sleep. I am getting very scared." she shivered.
"What did he tell you the last time he spoke to you?" asked Japheth calmly.
"Well, he said something about going for a week-long trip or picnic to some area. I didn't bother. He keeps going to these camps now and then. But he would always call me. But now, this is the third evening and I have had no call from him. Where do you think he went, Japheth? I know you were looking out for him."
Reluctantly, Japheth began to speak. "James has been close to me from his childhood, as you well know Jessie. But of late he has been slowly moving away from the straight and the narrow. I warned him many times. I told him it is not wise to dabble with the devil and his angels. But as you know, he has a stubborn streak. He insisted that he wants to experiment."
"Has he gone someplace he oughtn't to go?"
"I'm afraid he might have gone. I will try to find out and rescue him. We must pray that the Lord will have mercy on him and on us and help us to get him back to Him and to us."
Kneeling down, they both prayed fervently for James. As they got up from their knees, Jessie was sobbing. Japheth comforted her and said he will find out about James. Tearfully, she bid him goodbye.
He called James' close friends first to enquire. He had some numbers which he tried calling. One of them said that he hadn't heard from James for more than a week. One fellow, Robbin, mentioned that he had a call from him two days ago. Japheth talked further with Robbin.
"What exactly did James tell you two days ago, Robbin? We are not able to contact him. His Mom is very worried and so am I. Please tell me," Japheth pleaded.
"Well, he just asked me how I was. Then he told me something strange. He said that I won't be hearing from him again. Flabbergasted, I asked him if he is migrating out of the country. He laughed and said nothing. I didn't have a good feeling about this. But I didn't know whom to tell, Uncle."
Japheth was devastated. He thought, "Perhaps James has joined that heretic sect he was researching. He so much wanted to know what made it tick. What shall I do know?"
Spending a lot of time researching in the Library, he came up with little data about that sect. They were a very closed and closely-knit community. He learned that they were in some pods which are self-contained and set up in the desert region in the south.
There was no record of any members of this sect ever breaking out from it to survive and tell the tale. In fact, he unearthed the fact that one or two guys who came out from that sect died in mysterious circumstances. Killed by the sect? "Where does that leave our James?" thought Japheth.
"I might have to go and find out more," he resolved.
Days later he was in the desert. He enquired in the nearest village. They told him that a community does live in some pods nearby. Surfacing out once a week or so, they get fresh supplies sometimes, he was told. But mostly they are self-contained.
Japheth decided to stay in that village for a week and see if he can contact some member of that community. Meanwhile, he prayed that the Lord God would help him find James before it was too late. Will God answer him? was the question in his mind, even as he prayed.
That was a Sunday and Japheth went out to the street. There were a lot of shoppers at the little grocery store. He kept on scanning the youth who were coming in. Suddenly he saw two young people in non-descript clothes enter in. He thought he recognized one of them to be James, but he was not too sure. Silently thanking God, he went in.
When he came closer, he was sure that one of them was James. But he was appalled at the way he was now. He had been a brawny young man till recently. Now he was thin and scraggly. He was cowering and seemed very afraid. Praying swiftly, Japheth accosted James.
The moment he saw Japheth, a swift gleam of recognition and hope flashed in James' eyes. But it died down as swiftly. When his uncle called out, "Hey James! How are you?", James did not respond at all. Ignoring him, he went on to a different section of the shop.
Japheth saw that his companion was watching all of this. He decided to play a ruse. He grabbed the other fellow and took him aside. "Hello there! How are you? You need something?" The youth was dumbstruck. He desperately searched for James and called him.
Deftly, Japheth took both the youth away, whisking them to his room in the hotel. He got some food and coffee for them. They were looking emaciated. they gobbled up the food as though they were famished. Ordering some more food, he counseled them for a long time.
James and his friend John were now very scared. They said that the 'enforcers' will come after them now. So, Japheth took them away speedily in his car. They went to the Police Station and registered a complaint.
Japheth then took them to their place and put them both in his care. He continued to counsel them and sent them to other professional counselors of the church too. It took almost a year for them to recover.
The scars were still there. By God’s grace, both of them confessed their guilt and came to the Lord who forgave them and healed them. They accepted the Lord and were baptized into the church. Japheth traced the parents of John and sent him to them.
Jessie and Japheth held a thanksgiving prayer meeting at their home for the safe return of their prodigal, James. To home and the Lord. Japheth testified at the meeting, “The Lord brought our James back from the point of no return. No, nothing is too hard for the Lord. Praise and thanks be to Him!”
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1,438
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Write a fantasy story about water gods or spirits.
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Of Falsehoods
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She is all too familiar with what the legends make of her, with the heinous slander that monstrous men spewed to cover up their own rot. A shrewd and jealous temptress who loves nothing but power or, on the contrary, a guileless and powerless victim of the lustful old fool Merlin’s advances are her main depictions. Sometimes there is even the occasional casting of her as a motherly figure to Lancelot, the White Knight. Glaucia could bear being associated with the aforementioned lies, but she could find no shred of forgiveness for those painting her as his jailor or, by all the Gods, murderer. She would have never killed Merlin.
While the exact year it had happened had long since fled her memory, Glaucia is certain she was barely out of adolescence when she was trapped in that accursed lake with bindings forged by Vulcan himself, at Juno’s spiteful insistence. Her father, Xanthos, had greatly angered the Queen of the Gods during the Trojan War by attacking and nearly drowning the Greek hero Achilles. To her mind, the warrior deserved far worse for his insolence of clogging their home river with the corpses of fallen Trojans, but the wife of Jove clearly did not see it that way. Thus, after the Craftsman had literally boiled her father out of combat, Juno demanded Glaucia’s imprisonment in order to deter him from striking out at the Achaeans again. It was supposed to be temporarily, to only last until the war ended, but the Gods had then promptly forgotten about her and so, the punishment was not lifted. After all, why should they have recalled? What worth could an unknown, weak nymph like her have for those who ruled the Universe? She knows better than to expect pity, but she doubts the ancient, poisonous bitterness will ever leave her.
In the early years of her entrapment Glaucia was convinced that her father would, eventually, come to rescue her. She used to spend the better part of her days making up acceptable potential reasons for his atrocious tardiness: the battles were stretching on endlessly, or perhaps, he was not told where she had been taken and was blindly searching everywhere for her. A few decades down the road, she even foolishly began worrying that some grave injury had befallen Xanthos and left him unable to travel to retrieve her. It took an embarrassingly long time for Glaucia to come to terms with the fact that no one was coming, that her father, like most Gods, cared very little for the fate of his daughter and likely never gave her a second thought. She alternated between pitifully weeping and vengefully cursing her miserable existence, for months on end down in the cold, dark bowels of Lake Avalon. The madness, brought on by utter desolation, was starting to claw deeper at the gates of her sanity with each passing moment and, with no reprieve in sight, she opted to succumb to a death-like slumber to while away the burden of eternity. Glaucia would end up considering the lonely, uninterrupted age of sleep one of the happiest experiences of her life up until that point and consequently, she was very reluctant to properly awaken when the birth of some tremendous being rudely disturbed her rest. She was determined to fall back asleep the second it stopped throwing around waves of world-shattering energy but alas, it seemed in no hurry to quiet down. Glaucia would be lying if she claimed that she didn’t wish, at the height of her frustrated rage, for someone to just end the blasted tantrum through whatever means necessary. However, once she calmed herself down a notch, a rare feeling of curiosity bloomed inside her. Was it possible that a new god was born, or perhaps, a half-mortal offspring of one? For the first time in eons, she swam upwards from the depths until she broke the surface and intently surveyed the banks that surrounded the lake. Glaucia had to admit, as far as prisons go, hers was exquisite; sturdy, green oaks, as well as tall and narrow-looking poplars crowded in a dense circle around the boundaries of the water. Pure white and cheerful yellow little flowers could be seen nestled at the bottom of their trunks, while a soft and vibrant carpet of fresh grass and moss covered the remaining area. Shrugging off her awe at the surprising beauty of this place, she saw nothing that could grant her a clue about the nature or whereabouts of the mysterious entity and, resigned to her perpetual boredom, she submerged back into the lake.
Despite the fact that the being had persisted in greatly inconveniencing the entire supernaturally-inclined population in the vicinity for the next 4 whole years, Glaucia was yet to encounter the elusive creature in person. At this point, she was fairly certain it would never happen. And thus she was wholly unprepared for the day when, after emerging from the waves, she glimpsed a small shape harassing the frogs that dwelled near the swallow parts of the lake. Now, nymphs are not usually fond of seeking out strangers, regardless of their size, but Glaucia could not help seeing this as a potential opportunity for freedom. She decided that the best course of action would be to discreetly observe the inhuman toddler and if it proved harmless enough, attempt to interact with it. Unfortunately, all the cautious planning would be for naught, because the child-like entity took one look in her general direction and immediately spotted the top of her head peeking out from the water. To her surprise, it didn’t try to attack her, or run away screaming, opting to just stand there, staring. Glaucia briefly contemplated hiding away whilst patiently waiting for another chance to undertake this affair with fewer risks, alas, she could not afford to appear scared. What if the creature could do her harm? Vowing that she will be brave no matter what, she rose to her full height and came as close as she dared to the shore, then, with as even a voice as she could muster, she called towards it “Who are you? What are you doing here?”. Glaucia paused for a moment and, when no answer came, continued “Are you lost?”. Once again, it stayed deathly quiet. A trickle of fear coiled around her spine, causing her thoughts to clash together in an incomprehensible jumble. Fighting to stay calm, she asked “Do you need help? Is someone else here with you?”. She fervently started to pray to whoever may listen, to allow that her life would not get any worse than it already was. The entity just blinked its muddy green eyes owlishly at her for a few seconds and then, in a barely-there voice, said “Is your name Nima...nimi...”. It stopped abruptly and frowned in deep concentration, before carrying on, with a endearingly stubborn expression plastered on its little face “Nim-ou-ehh?”. Glaucia most certainly was not; however, this might prove to be a valuable bargaining chip, so she decided to try to gather as much information as possible “Depends, why are you asking?”. Putting on a believable all knowing act was definitely challenging, considering that she was a very poor actress, but she apparently managed it well enough to convince the child. It smiled brightly at her and shouted excitedly “The three ladies were right, the black birds did lead me to you!”. Glaucia felt herself break out in cold sweat at the words, she could hazard a guess at who the women were and it did not bode well for her. The bird comment was also deeply disturbing, as she could think of no benevolent god who appeared in that form. Attempting to cover up the undiluted dread that coursed through her veins, she questioned him sweetly “And why is it, that you were looking for me?”. The creature’s enthusiasm withered instantly and shyly avoiding her gaze, it flushed bright red in embarrassment “Sorry. My name is Merlin and I have magic. They said that you can help me”. Glaucia had no idea how she was supposed to accomplish that, but, since the Fates had already renamed her Nimue and sent the boy her way, she had little choice but to try. “I see. Well then, Merlin, why don’t you come here and tell me what you know about the animals that live in waters?”. Had the toddler been old enough to possess a shred of common sense, he would have instantly suspected her of wanting to lure him to a watery grave. Alas, he was far too young for caution and trustingly walked straight into the lake and held up his arms so Glaucia would pick him up. She acquiesced, and after Merlin confessed to not knowing much, she pointed to a green specimen with dark brown spots and explained “That is commonly called a marsh frog, but I like to refer to it as Juno”. She just couldn’t resist making a small jab at the Goddess who ruined her life. “They mostly eat insects, like flies or mosquitoes and can be found in almost any pond or lake”. The tiny sorcerer was listening intently, nodding along as if he was being told some priceless secret. Thus, the first of many afternoons to come flew by, with her using her powers to call forth various aquatic creatures, so that Merlin could see them and then proceeding to teach him all about them.
The child began to come to her for lessons every day, without fail. As he got older, Glaucia started to talk of more difficult subjects; from medicinal herbs that grow by rivers, to the differences in chemical composition that could occur in various sources of water. She was giving him a lecture on the latter, when she noticed the 11 year old boy wasn’t paying her the slightest bit of attention “Line? Is something bothering you?”. He gave her a dazed, uncomprehending look and then weakly shook his head no. Merlin was the only company she had had in eons, and loath as she was to admit it, she loved him dearly. Glaucia simply could not bear the thought that he might be unwell, so she persisted “What is it, my darling enchantment? You know I’ll help you in any way I can.”. The boy tried to hide his face behind his russet tresses for a moment, before he lifted his anxious eyes to hers and asked in a hesitant whisper “Nimue, do you...?”. Merlin faltered for a second, then, he continued in a slightly stronger tone “Do you know who my parents are? Or were? The ladies refuse to say.” Nimue’s heart broke a little at the anguish she heard in his voice. She pondered the question, but, while she strongly suspected that he was related to Venus, either directly or due to some ancestry owed to Aeneas, Glaucia wasn’t sure. And thus she told him the truth “I am afraid I do not. I can’t stray far from Lake Avalon and I wasn’t present at your birth. I wish I had a better answer to give you”. The child’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, seeming for all the world ready to burst into tears “They just didn’t want me, did they?”. She helplessly held out a hand towards him in an offer of comfort and Merlin nearly knocked them both over with the strength of his embrace. Sobs that spoke of severe heartbreak brutally shook his frame; Glaucia immediately began stroking his hair with loving strokes in the vain hope of easing his pain. The poor boy cried like this for a good half an hour before slowly starting to settle down and with a final tight hug, he stepped back wiping at his puffy eyes. She was looking on with great concern, privately wondering how she could possibly cheer him up, when Merlin abruptly lifted his head and vowed solemnly, with unyielding resoluteness “I swear, by all the Gods, I will find a way to get you free from the lake. I don’t care what it takes”. Nimue studied her student intently for a few heartbeats before nodding in acceptance and responding “If anyone can, Line, I have no doubt it will be you”. Then she smiled warmly and, in order to distract him from his sadness, suggested “Why don’t we take a break from learning today and have a little swimming contest? I’ll even throw in a generous head start”. Merlin still seemed sorrowful, but he surprised her by promptly plunging into the lake and starting to cut through the water as fast as he could. She found herself laughing out loud at his antics. A couple a minutes later, Glaucia got in too and mirrored his course. She shamelessly let him win.
Ten more years passed by in a blur, the awkward stage of adolescence was through and now, her precious boy was a fully grown man. She could not be more proud of the person he became, but she selfishly wished at times that childhood kept its hold on him just a little longer. Nimue knew, in the way all parents do, that very soon her son would go make a life for himself and would have no more need of her. She had been expecting it for quite a while and yet the dreaded day still somehow managed to come before she was ready. The three ladies told him of the golden king that would, through his interference and guidance, be born, so Merlin came by to say his goodbyes prior to leaving to go tend to the necessary preparations. Many tears had been shed, on both sides, but they ultimately parted on good terms and he promised to come back to visit her whenever he could. Over the next 2 decades she had seen him sparingly, no more than a handful of times. Sadly, he made few social calls, usually only coming by to ask her advice on how to proceed with his ward or if he was in need of help with one clever scheme or another.
The despicable day Arthur fell at Camlann would bring about the most excruciating torture she ever had the misfortune to endure. Her Merlin suddenly appeared on the bank cradling in his arms, with heart wrenching gentleness, the body of his dearest pupil. Everything in his countenance spoke of mad, uncontrollable grief, and of guilt so consuming it drowned out any love for life left in him. He begged her, between heavy sobs, to lay the corpse to rest beneath the cold protection of Lake Avalon and she did so, without a second thought. Oh, she should have known, seen the dead glint in his eyes and refused to leave him alone, but she didn’t. Glaucia failed him utterly and she will never get the chance to tell him how much she regrets it. By the time she came back from entombing the king, her baby boy was limply floating face down on the surface of the water. Upon seeing this, she rushed over in horror, pleading with the Moirai all the while to take anything, everything else but to let her have him. Nimue dragged him to the shore and began to desperately pound his chest in an attempt to get the water out. When that didn’t work, she tried with all her might to force it out with magic. It didn’t budge. Of course it didn’t, her home river was a world away and she held no real power over any other body of water. Obtaining no results, she carefully took his face in her hands and began adoringly caressing his cheeks “It’s time to wake up, my darling enchantment. I swear I am not mad, but you need to open your eyes now, okay?”. She kept looking over his frozen features, thinking that he will start breathing again any moment now. “Line, come back. If not for your sake, than do it for mine. Please!”. Her voice failed her on the last word and she let out a heaving sob. Taking in a shuddering breath, Glaucia pulled him into her arms and set his head against her breast, beseeching him anew “You can have anything you want. Anything at all. Just live”. Receiving no answer from Merlin, she let out an ear-splitting howl that likely carried her grief across the many miles to her father. She hugged him tightly against her and pressed a wet kiss to his cold forehead before whispering despairingly “You are the greatest sorcerer to ever live. You can’t die, not like this. Please, if anyone is listening, don’t allow it. Not like this!”. Nimue let herself collapse on the ground with her child clasped to her and wept long and hard enough for the blood to dry out in her veins. She has no idea how long they laid there, perhaps merely an hour, or a day, but it might just as well have been an eternity before a vaguely familiar voice reached her “It’s time to come home, daughter”. Galucia made no move to turn around and face the speaker. “I am sorry it took me so long to find you. They told me that you ran off with some warrior and refused to return”. “And you simply didn’t bother to check” she remarked tiredly. The God came closer and sat down next to her “I thought you hated me, for not saving you from Deimachus and the whole business with the war after that”. Nimue looked mournfully at him over her shoulder “I named the baby after you, before I came back”. Xanthos seemed positively crestfallen at the words “If I could, I’d take it all back and do right by you, but I can’t. I can only promise to keep you safe from here on” he held out his hand to her. She hesitated briefly, and then grasped it.
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4,701
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Write about a character passing down their favorite childhood toy to a new generation.
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Of magic, music and mood
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Introduction:- Childhood is the most magical period of a person's life . This story is a trip down memory lane into my childhood. I would like to add here that there is difference between imagination and telling lies." when God sends his children to earth he makes sure they don't have to live alone. He arranges for every child to have parents, family and friends. " My grandma used to say that. She was a simple person and I was only seven years old then. I wouldn't have understood the complexities of life . Why some children loose their parents like my little cousin, whose father died before she was born. Why some children don't have siblings like my daughter. Why some children don't have friends. Why some people never get married.Grandmother used to say, " God makes a boy for every girl and a girl for every boy. Such was our private conversations .I used to spend my holidays with grandparents, aunts and uncles in Kolkata, called Calcatta in those days.Aunt used to supervise my bath . One day she drapped me in a red cotton towel after bath, just like a saree and I was filled with joy. I felt likea grownup.I went and stood before the mirror to see how I looked and smiled at myself. Two of my front teeth were missing. I stopped smiling." nobody is going to marry me . I look like an old Nanny" , I said." your teeth are going to come back" said my Aunt.I didn't believe my aunt. I had found out that the white ghost behind the kitchen door making frightening noises at dinner time the previous night , was non other than the house maid because Menny,my grandpa's pet cat, went and stood beside her, purring and meowing. Menny loved the house maid. The maid gave her food.I had read many phantom comics and I knew cats don't like ghosts.So, I didn't believe Aunt." how will my teeth come back ", I thought crossly.Aloud I said " I lost them while playing and Gobindo's mother was telling she had herself seen the Rat taking away my teeth to feed her family with it ".Gobindo's mother was an old woman who came to collect garbage from our house everyday and grandma gave her chapattis and tea." The Rat is going to return your teeth" my Aunt consoled." I don't want a rat teeth. Rats are disgusting and those who get rat teeth become quarrelsome. I want the teeth God gave me ", I told my Aunt.I sat under the huge Shiuli tree and fought with God, angry with the Rat for taking my teeth and angry with God for letting it happen." Grandma I'm not going to marry . I will bring a baby from the hospital ", I announced at dinner time." What will you do with a baby ?" My uncle asked." I need somebody to play with my toys when I'm grown up and can't play with them anymore ", I explained to him." You can always give your toys to your younger brother or cousins " uncle suggested." I don't want to give my toys to my brother. He always breaks them ", I said.Every evening aunt gave me a snack made puffed rice, boiled potatoes, green peas, roasted peanuts , shredded coconut mixed with mustard oil, salt and lemon juice.I went out and sat in a small seat made in the wall below my grandpa's window and played make believe games and talked with imaginary friends. The place was shaded by a big fig tree. Parrots , in large number, came and ate figs and I watched them.I had several doll. Some were bought from stores, some given to me as birthday presents, and a handmade pair of puppets by Aunt like the ones she used to play with when she was a child.None of my toys could talk and there were no other children to play with .I imagined I was rowing a boat in the middle of a sea , amidst a storm with winds howling and big waves turning into large fountains of froth rushing towards my boat and smashing on its sides making a roaring noise as if angry and soaking me wet.I kept on rowing with all my strength my eyes trying to locate the Land of Puchkundis.The water current seemed to happily conspire with the wind in my favour and the boat was almost pulled on its own towards the land of Puchkundis.I alighted on the land and bound the boat to a tree with ropes.I had taken a sack with me. My plan was to bring home some Puchkundis who could play with me like real children.When I reached the palace of Puchkundis I came to know that the king of Puchkundis had thrown a ball and all Puchkundis were invited. The Puchkundis were having a long War with the kiskindas and though the Kiskindas had fought bravely the Puchkundis had won. The kiskindas were also invited because the cunning King of Puchkundis did not like being enemies with neighbours. The kiskinda king had given lots of sea shells and coconut to the Puchkundis and they were happy with the booty.I was not interested in their wars and entertainments. I was looking for an opportunity to catch some Puchkundis.Their palace was too small for me to enter. It was as small as a rabbit's hole. I sat cross-legged outside and watched them make merry and eat.I had had my evening snack. I was not hungry.The Puchkundis didnot have to share their food with me so they were friendly towards me. They didnot know my plans.They thought I was only there as a tourist and would tell wonderful stories about them when I went back home.The Puchkundis looked like oblong eggs with a convex disc attached to their bottoms instead of legs. They made a sound like 'kach kach' as they moved. All Puchkundis were in pair. One male and one female made a pair . Every pair wore same dress and same colour. All women had long hair tied to the back and all men were bald.Kiskindas were also a bit like Puchkundis but they looked more like cylinders with a detachable ball for a head. All kiskindas were either three-in-one or four-in-one.The men carried their women and children inside their body and the women carried their men and children inside their body. Kiskindas didnot have legs. They jumped like frogs.When kiskinda family needed to come out the man cut himself in half and out came the woman. When child needed to come out the women cut themselves in half and child came out. When younger child needed to come out the older child was cut in half and the child could come out.When the Puchkundi Queen saw my legs she started cracking jokes. My friends at school had always praised my legs . They said my legs looked like that of a ballerina and I had stood tiptoe in front of mirror when I was alone and had practiced some dance steps. I felt insulted.I made up my mind that I will catch her and bring her home to play with as I liked.The party continued for long hours because at the start of the party the horse had gone to cross the land and the party would continue until the horse returned.This was the rule of Puchkundis because they did not have clocks and they did not know how to see the time.I felt drowsy and would have fallen asleep but without my side pillows I could not sleep.When all the Puchkundis fell asleep I put my hand inside the palace and caught some Puchkundis and put them inside my sack. I didn't catch any kiskindas because they were all threesomes and foursomes and heavy looking like overstuffed Maharaja.I bound the end of the sack with my ribbon and proceeded towards the boat. One of the kiskinda child shouted from inside his father's body and I had to turn around. The father kiskinda was fast asleep and the child could not get out unless the father woke up and cut himself in two but the child could awaken all the kiskindas and puchkundis. In order to silence him I put that kiskinda family inside my sack.I came back home and put the sack behind the Shiuli tree and went to sleep. I was certain nobody would go near the Shiuli tree at night because aunt said a female ghost lived in it.Later on when I grew up I found that the ground near the Shiuli tree was full of ants. Aunt must have made up the story of ghost to keep me away from the Shiuli tree.Next morning when the grown ups were having their tea and busy talking among themselves I went behind the Shiuli tree and took the sack to a secluded corner of the house and loosened the ribbon.Out came all the Puchkundis and Kiskindas and started shouting,crying and fighting with me. I gave them sugar cubes and water on flower petal. They ate to their hearts content.I sang a chant which had no meaning and logic in it and clapped my hands three times.All Puchkundis and Kiskindas turned into wooden toys. I put them on the sideboard . It was only me who could turn them real with my magic. Everyday I turned them into Puchkundis and Kiskindas with magic and again changed them into toys after I finished playing." where did you get those toys? They look very real" enquired my Aunt." Baba brought them for me from barabazar" I said.I knew aunt would never ask baba about the toys and I told baba not to tell anyone. I knew he would listen and keep his promise as he always kept his promise when I was a child. He did not tell anyone.When school reopened my toys went inside baba'so almirah and remained there forgotten. Once in a while I would clean the almirah and look at them.Neighbourhood children came and admired my toys. I never gave them my toys to play.In my heart they were not toys. They were playmates of my childhood.When my daughter came I showed her the toys.She didn't show any interest in them.She was not mesmerised as I was when baba first brought them for me.Some Puchkundis had lost their pair and some had lost their hair.Some were broken with dresses torn in places. The kiskinda king had lost his head. The Queen's body was broken. Some of their children were lost.My grandpa's house is no more. It only remains alive in old pictures. The Shiuli tree has been cut and the wood given to the lumber yard.My daughter of ten came up to me and said, " when I will build a house of my own you can keep your toys there".I smiled and nodded my head.I didn't tell my daughter the real story behind the toys'origin.Some secrets are better not shared.The Puchkundis and Kiskindas are useless items like garbage and broken furnitures.With a last look of nostalia I put them away.My memories remain in my heart and my daughter has real friends to play and talk.Someday in near future, I plan to tell my grandchildren the tales of Puchkundis and Kiskindas.
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6,250
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Start your story with a character struggling to remember the date, because every day is like the last one.
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Oh well, here we go again
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The shrill beeping of the mechanical alarm clock wakes me up dutifully as always. As my hands scramble to find the offending device, I hear the sweet melody of birds singing. Silly me, when have I ever thought the chirping of birds were sweet? Or melodic? This pandemic is doing things to me, I am almost sure of it. Scratch that, I am hundred percent certain of it. Look at my slowly dwindling sanity for instance, yesterday I found myself apologizing to the rubbish bin for knocking it over.Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I try to get up groggily from my bed. Key word being “try” here. But what can I say, when the warmth of the bed is calling, my pillow looks enchanting and my body is responding?Five more minutes can’t hurt can it?Plus, I am sure today is Saturday, meaning no school. But is it really Saturday? Leaning back into my bed, I sigh into the warmth it offers against the chilly morning atmosphere. Now, where was I? Right, the date. I am fairly sure it was Friday yesterday, because I remember the day I ate cereal was Friday and I am sure I ate a bowl of cereal yesterday. But I eat cereal every day nowadays. No, I am certain there’s something different I do every day.I get up, I eat, I study and then I sleep. Repeat the pattern again and again, quite like a template, a story of my life in the pandemic. Wait, is that it though? Is that all I do? Every day?Hold up, I have math every Friday. Did I have Math yesterday? Or chemistry? I have chemistry every Friday too.I really can’t remember at all. I sigh, and hopelessly stare at the sky hoping for a forget-me-not-blue as a type of pick-me-up. It's grey, not the grey you get from rain, the grey that reminds one of sadness or everything dull or isolated. How very typical.It seems like everything has changed to gray ever since the pandemic started. All different hues of gray, like all the colors are sucked off along with the life this city bustled with.Something doesn’t sit right with me. Why does it feel like that every day has been the same since this disaster struck? Since when did my routine go from unpredictable to tediously repetitive?Now, suddenly the bed doesn’t seem warm anymore. I burrow further down, to chase some of the warmth I desperately need right now.Maybe if I fall back sleep, and wake back up, all of this would turn out to be a bad dream.However, once-welcoming but now eluding, sleep does not come easy. I toss and turn trying to sort out the mess of tangles I got myself into.Now that I think about it, everyday feels like a chore, nothing’s happening, but is that really a bad thing?It’s boring but nonetheless, it’s not bad, that is better than bad, so technically it’s good. Right?Then why do I feel so suffocated now?I feel like an animal shut in its cage, I concluded. It being in a cage isn’t the sad part, but I wonder if it sometimes wished to have grown up in the cage right from the start instead of being given a taste of all the thing it could do outside from it.Maybe if I didn’t know what it was like, it wouldn’t have been so devastating, would it?Or from time to time, I find myself craving company. Maybe then the tender passing of time wouldn’t bother me so much, or I wouldn’t mind the accompanying worry or maybe it would ease the boredom away.Maybe, I would be grateful for the cage of pandemic, when I have someone to share it with me, because I would have all the time in the world to listen and speak and give.No, no, no why am I so sentimental all of a sudden? Why did me realizing that everyday has been the same for me, suddenly make me so sad?But who wouldn’t be sad, if they can’t even remember the date because everything has been the same for an eternity??Am I sad because I am not in control anymore? I was never in control anyways, I am sure it has got nothing to do with that.The magic of my bed is gone now. Might as well as get up and maybe try changing the way my day goes by.I am forgetting something though. What was it again?Right, the date! So much for my musings, I still haven’t remembered the date yet.I should go find my phone from the depths of my bed, that way I can finally see what day it is today without spiraling into a mish mash of a poetically pathetic musing.Emerging back from my bed, rather like a sea monster, with my phone at hand I give a triumphant shout as I finally manage to breathe. That duvet is thick enough to suffocate a man.Anyway, what is the date today?Today is...Wednesday? How in the world did I get Wednesday to be a Saturday?I have missed my chemistry test along with it.Right, I am never trusting myself ever again.Forget the pandemic, my academic record would be history and even a miracle can’t bring me back if mom ever finds out.Speak of the devil, the caller ID shows mom’s name on my phone.“Hello-““Why do I hear you have not attended today’s-“ Oh well, here we go again.Author's note:Hi! I am new here, so please be kind? I literally have no idea what I just wrote up there and I feel like I butchered the ending, but oh well, what can I do?Oh, plus some weird wordings and typos might be literally everywhere , please point it out and feel free to critique my mistakes, I would be happy to know what I am doing wrong. Thank you!Anyway, come say hi!
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5,055
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Write a story about high school sweethearts coming across one another after many, many years apart.
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On the Stage
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Although the sun shines as brightly as ever, the dark cloud in my heart leaves my world awash in gray. As typical for August, oppressive heat beats down with as little mercy as a vigilante crowd. I have just retrieved a parcel from the post when I hear his voice, an echo from the past nearly forgotten over the years, but the memories it brings up...
I stood in line with the other young ladies, each in a fancy dress purchased for the occasion. Across the room, young gentlemen, clad in suits befitting their station, formed a row. One in particular caught my eye, and presumably those of every other female in the room- a dashing fellow with what appeared to be ribbons and military awards on a burgundy jacket which sported golden epaulets and braided cords the same color. My best friend, Melisande, whispered, "I understand he's visiting European royalty. Supposedly looking for a wealth heiress because he's a younger son. Doesn't he look handsome?"
I made no response as the matrons in charge of the cotillion chose that precise moment to allow us to move across the floor in an attempt to garner a dance partner of our choice. Alas, the prince spotted Annabelle Vanderbilt and made a beeline for her, as she did him. Annabelle may be rich, and beautiful, but her personality resembles nothing more than a magpie, a metaphor with extends to her harsh and croaking voice.
Then a young man collided with me, which is to say, he stepped right in front of me. Not quite as tall as the prince, and attired in the same sort of dark woolen suit as his peers, he stopped, our eyes met, and he asked, "Would you care for this dance?"
The voice, a smooth baritone, woke in me a flood of emotion which I could never quite forget...
"Nathaniel van Rijn, is that you?"
He turns to me when I speak. The intervening decades have not been kind. Where once stood a dashing, lean, young man with rowdy auburn locks, now it is a portly man of middle years with a receding hairline- and what remains is as gray as my humor.
"Elizabeth, is that you? My lord, you've hardly aged a day." He strides over and takes the parcel, despite it being a modest size. "Let me give you a hand with that. After I returned from Yale, you had disappeared with never a word. Who would have thought to meet you out here of all places."
"After my father died at Shiloh, my uncle left me with small option." I smile genially. His voice is so rich and warm that I barely notice the man. With just the tiniest bit of imagination, he remains the young beau of my tender years. "He sent me upstate to Elmira Women's College. Once I graduated, with honors, I found work as a teacher here, a position I still enjoy. So what brings you to our sleepy little spot on the map?"
"After graduating from Yale, I began a very successful law career." He walks beside me to the cabriolet, or arana as Jane might call it. Nate starts at the sight. He turns to me, his face red. "I did not realize teaching paid so well. I thought you an impoverished spinster and thought to rectify the matter. I could certainly influence your Uncle Martin to provide you a stipend."
"My salary is quite generous. I hold more in common with a schoolmaster than a teacher." I give him a coy smile. Flirting, which is truly unacceptable for a lady in my position. "But you were telling me of your law career."
"Made a bundle handling affairs for some very prosperous railway men, particularly Mister Morgan." He gives a self-satisfied sigh. "Retired after only fifteen years and went into politics."
"How fortunate for you," I step up into my cabriolet and reach for my packet. "Will you be here long?"
"As long as it takes," He answers before handing it over. His eyes glance at my hand, but my ring is at the jeweler in Austin, having the setting reworked. I recall his comment about me being a spinster and wonder if he hopes to court me.
That evening, when Mike gets in, he asks, "You know a fellah goes by Nate Reen or some such? He's a-"
"Lawyer from Yale." I have his attention. "Down in Austin for politics and here no doubt for some reason of his own?"
My husband of sixteen years, Mike remains lean and muscular, no doubt because he does much of the hard labor on the ranch. He knows why I am sorrowful and respects my grief as I wish I could aid him with his. Although a light frosting of gray touches his temples, and his dark eyes are wizened by the sun, he might easily pass as a man in his mid-thirties. Our three living children, ranging from age six to thirteen, will roam in as supper approaches. But this moment is ours.
"Howfore do you know him?"
"We attended dances as youths. Until today, I had not seen him since before i went to college."
"I got you ask a favor o' you." This is trouble. I already manage the books for our, increasingly prosperous, ranch so a favor means something to do with Nathaniel. I simply wait and he takes that as permission to continue. "Let Nate think y'all are single. If'n he knows better, let him think you got an itch what needs scratchin' and he's the fence-post you done picked."
"I beg your pardon."
"Hold your horses, let me tell er all." He best have a good explanation is all I can think. "He's here for Jimmy Schneider. Gonna lawyer him off if he can. But he got hisself one evil past. One I like pert near as much as polecat for supper."
"Eww dad, we're having skunk?" Jennifer, our youngest, and boldest, sneaked in while we spoke. Now she surprises us. Mike laughs and turns to go with her as they both wash before the meal.
"Mike." I move close and lean near his ear to whisper, "Tell me details after the dears are in bed and I shall certainly do as you ask."
Late the next morning, I again have my cabriolet out, proceeding down main street and right in front of the county courthouse as the clock strikes a quarter past eleven. Mike arranged to ensure Nathaniel will be exiting at that time and I have chosen my approach well. I spot Nate's portly form, not six feet from Mike. I wave and Nate returns it, so I call, "Mister van Rijn, would you care to join me for luncheon at Carnitas?"
We quickly ensconce ourselves at one of the front tables, with a view of the street and order barbacoa. Nate opens with, "Never thought you the type to associate with darkies."
"I administer and teach at the school for Negro children." I nod toward Rosario. "Mexicans are just as human as we. And the food here is exquisite, far better than the hotel's fare."
"I can say it was not up to snuff."
We chat amicably, catching up on the intervening years, though I weave the web of lies Mike and I fabricated the previous evening.
"Pity you're a spinster, but I can see how teaching negro students would keep honorable men at bay." His eyes flash with desire.
"I might ask how you are still a bachelor, for I see no wedding band." I try to imagine him as he was, but that stirs no desire. Then I pretend he is Mike, just in from a hard day's work, coated in sweat and grime. My breath catches, even after all these years. "Surely, a man as wealthy as you should have no shortage of eager young ladies."
"You see me as i was," he bemoans. "Young women only see me as a fat old man and desire my riches but not my embrace. Further, I am a widower. My wife dies some six years hence."
"I do apologize. It was not my intent to stir up painful memories."
"Nonsense, I buried Melisande. She is finished." He pulls out his pocket watch. "We have some minutes remaining. We should talk about our future."
My dear friend Melisande, trapped in a loveless marriage, for I imagine such, arranged by her parents. Oh how lucky I am to have Mike. Would that our son yet lived.
"You seem upset."
"It is nothing. Melisande was a dear friend, but we lost contact before she wed. Postal service here was dreadfully inefficient when I first arrived. Tell me about yourself. Why are you here?"
"I have to free a boy from the local law. Falsely accused, that sort of thing. You should see how they abused him. His ribs are stove in on the side. Brute of a lawman you have."
"I find Marshal Hobbes benign, if a mite on the young side."
"Sheriff Carson. Fought beside Bloody Bill at the Lawrence massacre."
"I rather doubt that. Mister Carson is a ranger and photographic evidence exists of his presence at many times with the Texas Cavalry in the Army of Tennessee. The local paper had an entire series printed up in eighty five, to commemorate twenty years of peace and the man who brought it."
The entire length of my impromptu soliloquy I think of Jimmy freed from his just deserts.
"I see you're as fond of the man as I."
"I can admire a man, despite him murdering my father." His eyes get wide, he hangs on my every word. "It is all I can surmise. Carson brags about his exploits. As a boy of fourteen, he rode to Shiloh, joined the Texas boys, and rode over a union artillery battery. He shot a captain in the face with his shotgun at point blank range. My father, an artillery captain died there when confederate cavalry flanked them and rode through the gunners. Killing many and scattering the rest."
"How can you admire him?"
"Because he is honest. I do accounts for the county during summer, when school is out."
"What does that have to do with Carson?"
"I work for him, to assess taxes. The man may be brave and honest, but he is handy with a gun, not accounting." I have one more thread to weave and we shall see if I trap this fly. "Thus, I ride out, make notes, then go work the county tax rolls in the summer evenings, when a stout adobe building is pleasant. They pay me sixty dollars for working two weeks."
"A handsome sum, particularly for a woman." He catches his breath. "Surely you don't mean to go tonight."
"Tides and taxes wait for no man." I smile, hoping it looks girlish. "I hope when you finish here, I can impose to travel with you to Austin."
"Nothing would please me more." He's sweating, but it is a blisteringly hot August day. I need to pressure him.
"So soon as we settle the bill, I had best be off. No rest for the weary."
"Please avoid the jail tonight?"
"Why ever would I do that?" I allow some temper to show through. "Do you intend to propose on such shortly renewed acquaintance? For only that could balance the goodwill and regular income of performing tax services for the county."
"With that felon, it may not be safe."
"You indicated earlier that James was both innocent and badly injured. He is certainly incarcerated in a stout cell. How then might he pose a threat?" I wag a finger. "Is this an intrigue to debauch my maidenhood?"
"No, I just worry for you." He reaches across the table to clasp my hands in his. "I worry about you. That jail just doesn't seem safe. Who knows what could happen."
"I shall consider your words, but I still have an obligation."
"Then be sure not to go tomorrow. Just as a favor for me."
"You have grown to be a rather queer man, Mister van Rijn."
"Better odd than dead."
"Quite."The town clock chimes and I rise. "I must depart Nathaniel. I do hope to see you again soon."
"Just be certain not to be in the jail tomorrow night."
"I shall do my best."
Mike's sister, Jane, lives near town with her husband- Pedro Alvarez, So I drive out to send her in to Mike with the essential detail from my conversation with Nate- the attack on the jail is planned for tomorrow night. Then I prepare for a chance meeting at the hotel, including placing a Smith and Wesson lady's thirty-eight in my reticule. Mike planned this, though I know not why.
In the early evening, Nathaniel arrives, looking worn after a long day working at whatever he does in the court. I walk over to his side as he retrieves his key from the desk. "Don't you think it's a lovely evening for a stroll, Nate?"
"I rather intended to retire early."
"This hotel is dreadfully hot. Thin bricks and a large stuffy attic keep it warm throughout the evening, but horribly cold when a northern wind blows during winter."
"I noticed the mosquitoes swarming through every open window." He loosens his tie and undoes the top button on his collar. "Feel like that courthouse baked me through the afternoon."
"I had no idea the trial was today. Everyone has heard about the incident."
"Which is why it needs a change of venue. An innocent boy against a corrupt lawman, and I must professionally differ with your evaluation of the man, has no chance at a fair outcome when folk talk of hanging him without that nicety."
"None have been lynched in my entire time here." I fix Nate with a cold stare. "The sole hanging was a man who murdered an entire family, including a mother and her infant daughter."
A hullabaloo sounds from down the street. Nate smirks, not an honest smile, but a cruel sneer. A shotgun blast rends the air, echoing. This is followed by a flurry of pistol shots and then a loud crack, like a rifle. Nate smiles then. "It sounds as if your husband had a very bad day."
"You knew?"
"From before I arrived." He laughs, a wicked sound. "All Austin talks of Ranger Carson's reputation for planning. I used it against him. He knew the attack would be tomorrow, so he went out to the honest crowd today and someone shot him."
"An assassin, you mean."
"My dear, you are a very valuable widow now. Heir to his range and over three-thousand cows." He grabs for my arm, but I pull the pistol from my bag. Another of his wicked grins. "You cannot pull the trigger. You don't have it in you."
"My son was murdered by your client. I watched from our porch, as he gunned down my son."
"Every man is presumed innocent until their guilt is proven in a court of law."
"There were three witnesses."
"If you can credit a pregnant hussy. Claims Cecil is the child's father." Again with his wicked smile. "That shot means there are only two. I advise you against testifying."
I want to shoot him. Once Nathaniel was my prince charming, my Galahad, my Fitzwilliam Darcy. Now he is the fiend who arranged the murder of my husband. But my finger won't pull the trigger. He grabs the gun from my hand and points it at me.
"I will shoot," Carlotta Sanchez points a heavy Colt at Nate. "I hear you talk. You murder my father-in-law to save dog who shoot my husband."
"You have no more ability to pull a trigger than this widow." Nate leers at her, ravishing her youthful body with his eyes. Then he spins, raises the gun he took from me, from me, and two shots sound as one.
Carlotta clenches both hands around her Colt, which bucks and knocks plaster from the ceiling. The other lashes across the room, fired from my sister-in-law's Buffalo rifle. Her round strikes Nate in the left ribs, dropping him to the ground before he can shoot.
Jane slings the gun over her shoulder and crosses the lobby. She toes Nate and announces, "We ladies got to stick together."
Ignoring Jane, I ask, "When did you marry Cecil?"
"June nineteenth, day Americano's free people."
"An elopement?" I ask. Carlotta looks confused, but Jane comes to the rescue.
"Say yes when she talks pretty." Jane glances down at Nate as he gives a moan, then stills. "Looks like Nate paid his price."
"Did his crimes truly warrant death?"
Jane says. "Livin' and grave ain't but a few feet apart. Everbody pays the same."
I know not why, but Jane's simple words comfort me over the loss of Cecil. Then the gloom parts and Mike is there, my true Galahad, asking, "All y'all OK?"
"We yet continue our parts, playing them as we can."
"'Cause all the world's a stage." Jane likes to get in the last word and I don't stop her.
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2,531
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Write about a character who makes a dramatic life change to pursue a goal they’ve secretly always wanted.
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Our Segregated Table
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Trigger warnings: fat phobia, bullying
Our Segregated Table
By Zoey F.
We had been best friends for five years. We were so close that even our parents were good friends, and because of that our sleepovers seemed to be endless. We always hung out during and after school- never void of each other’s company. We were both loners; both social outcasts as we shared the burden of being labeled “ the ugly chubby girls” within our school. Perhaps if we were funnier, perhaps if we were more outgoing and cool, we could’ve compensated for our unattractive appearances like the other boys and girls learned to do. However, Alana and I weren’t endowed with such redeeming qualities and further remained in our introverted corners. We met in the 5th grade through our passion for drawing and art, and became inseparable ever since.
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At first, I didn’t mind the slights. The derisive chorterling, the glances of assured superiority, hurtful comments and the blatant social ostracization. Each time they would occur, I would look to Alana for comfort, as she would often brave a small, thin-lipped grin at me that was accompanied with a subtle wink and then whisper: “ Don’t pay attention to ‘em.” in her slightly raspy yet oddly sweet voice. Alana was never one to give in to fear and judgement, so it was easy for me to feel secure when she was around; the times when I was alone, however, were when self-doubt began to creep within me.
In the late hours of the night, melancholy would instantly overtake me. I would try as hard as I could to quiet my aggressive sobbing and sniffling with pillows thick enough to withhold my sorrow and pity. I hated myself wholeheartedly, and would curse my body for its shortcomings- its gelatinous rolls, oily skin, and unimpressive stature. These sulking sessions happened so routinely that it’d give me something to look forward to during the week. And everyday, Alana would pester me with questions about my well-being and would constantly tell me that she would always be there to help me, no matter the situation. And everyday, I would reply with lies of self-assurance that were as bitter and crusty as black licorice.
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Although Alana could somewhat detect my internal anguish, she couldn't possibly have detected the abysmal depths of spite and envy that writhed within me. The times when Alana’s cool and collective behavior would have originally distracted me from our lonely, segregated table, were times I instead observed the cool and “popular” people's table and munched on my PB&J sandwich with piercing green eyes.
The times when we would normally stroll down the hallways and chatter excitedly about our new favorite WebToons®️ series, were replaced with me turning a deaf ear to Alana whilst listening to the popular girls’ gossip. Whether I knew it consciously or not, I had ingrained within myself that my personal goal was to be part of the popular girls’ group. I figured that being myself alone wasn’t enough to be well-liked, afterall, it was what seemed to perpetuate my daily suffering and nightly torment. So, slowly but surely, I greatly adjusted my personality.
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Firstly, I ditched my habit of drawing cartoon characters in return for perfecting my makeup skills. I painstakingly watched numerous YouTube makeup tutorials and followed them to the T in hopes to finally achieve a sense of beauty. It took countless failures and frustrations, but I had finally begun to master the skill well into my ninth grade year of highschool. It definitely helped to alleviate the bullying that I had received, as it drew more attention to my face rather than my body. Although Alana didn’t personally enjoy wearing makeup ( as she thought it was much too laborious of a task to do) she thought it looked nice on me and didn’t discourage me from wearing it. She did, however, become worried when I began to wear it everywhere I went. Whether we were going to the grocery store, the park, or simply walking our dogs, I had to have a full face of makeup on. It became a necessity, as I feared the judgement of possible onlookers who aimed to insult me. Each time she’d voice her concerns about it, I’d simply dispel them and change the topic.
Secondly, I became more outgoing.
I engaged more with the people around me to gain a larger reputation. I used to be painfully shy and sort of fade into the shadows so that I could not draw any attention to myself. I hated being caught on the spot, so when teachers would call on me to answer a question in class I would literally have to choke back tears; which much to my chagrin, only made me a target for more bullying. So I began to act out. In class, when teachers called on me I emulated the awful behavior of my classmates: I was loud and disrespectful. I would make smart remarks and retorts to the teacher whenever I could so that my classmates would laugh with me instead of at me from then on. It cost me the favorability of my teachers and my parents’ pride, but in return I gained a lot of friends. A really cute and popular boy I had a crush on ( his name was Donovan), even started to finally show me attention. One day, while we were talking at my locker, he ruffled the curls on my head and said: “ You know, you kinda cute already but if you were skinnier, you’d be even cuter.” That comment led me to embark on my last greatest change.
Finally, I lost a lot of weight.
During the summer of my freshman year, Alana and I had made a deal with each other to begin eating healthier and start going to the gym so that we could better take care of our bodies. For a couple of weeks, it was a lot of fun. We would plan our nutritious meals with each other and create workout routines that was conducive for the both of us. During this time, I was also hanging out with Donovan and his two friends who were popular girls; Rory and Leah. Rory and Leah were super gorgeous, very skinny and fashionable. Everytime Donovan would invite me to hangout with them, it was clear that they weren’t exactly eager to meet me. It was evident in their scowls and upturned, perfect little noses that they had already in their minds categorized me as inferior because of my looks. They’d often make snide comments about my weight, and were comically shocked to know that I even worked out. As you could imagine, this got under my skin. I was so thirsty for their approval, that I searched tirelessly for quicker ways to lose weight. It didn’t matter to me if the methods were healthy or not. I had overheard Leah say one time in a conversation that the only way she stayed slim was by eating very small meals- so I decided to go with that method for weight loss. It was a horrible couple of months that I endured in order to get my weight down to 135. My stomach would painfully constrict and wail for more to eat throughout the day, and at times I would give in to its implore and stuff my face grotesquely with food. It was a vicious cycle of meager eating and over-indulgence but I managed to balance between them by reminding myself of the weight I used to be, and how much I yearned to abstain from reaching that weight again. Both my parents and Alana expressed their concerns about the rapid pace at which I was losing weight, which in return caused me to distance myself from them. I was increasingly irritable during this time so I didn’t even attempt to be polite in my dismissal to their counsel. The phrase: “leave me alone!” seemed to frequent my vocabulary at this time and any feeling of guilt or regret was filtered out with self-righteous indignation. They only wish to stifle my growth, I thought bitterly to myself. Afterall, I had so many people in my corner. People that never spoke to me before began to flock towards me; celebrating me for my good-looks and showering me with compliments. No one sought to bully me, and I was finally beginning to feel accepted. When Donovan invited me around other popular kids he didn’t awkwardly distance himself from me anymore, but draped his arm across my shoulders with pride. Sitting with Alana at our segregated table didn’t seem to satisfy me anymore; instead it made me grow restless. The two new worlds I was now a part of were much too far from one another to have dual citizenship in both- so I waited patiently for the final opportunity to leave the ‘old’ and reside in the ‘new’. Little did I know that that time would come sooner than I expected.
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It never ceases to amaze me to think that the one thing that I had been longing to be a part of for 5 years, was just one text away.
“ Sit with me today?” was the text from Donovan I had received at the beginning of my Junior year, that opened the gateway to total immersion into the popular group. There were no words to describe how overjoyed I was. That fateful day, during lunch, I followed Donovan and Leah to my new lunch table. The grey, rugged table that I had yearned to sit at might as well have been glistening; just positively radiating with the golden glow of social gratification. I clutched my plastic milk bottle, slightly trembling with glee. Yes! All that I had been working for is finally paying off, I thought, with a wide grin stretching across my blushed cheeks. A wave of dizziness inundated me, causing me to almost lose my balance as I walked over to the table. This happened often, so I lumbered on, using only the strength of my eagerness to keep me standing. I was just about to rest the milk bottle onto the table when suddenly, I heard an ear-splitting shrill blurted behind me.
“ Look what you did to my shirt!!!” Unfortunately, that horrible scream came from Rory. She stood in the middle of the cafeteria, completely stiff with vile vindication and boiling anger, whilst grasping her cream-colored blouse. To my surprise, I saw the supposed perpetrator was made out to be my best friend, Alana. Though short and stocky in stature, the stretch of her courage made her seem to loom over Rory.
It appeared as if Alana had purposely smashed her lunch tray onto Rory’s shirt, causing there to be a slosh of phlegm- colored mac and cheese with a touch of gravy ( one of Alana’s favorite food combinations) to be plastered onto it.
“ Um, you bumped into me. That means, you need to watch where you’re going.” Alana’s voice was firm and earnest.
It was obvious to everyone that there couldn’t possibly be any blame on Alana’s part, considering how problematic Rory was. Yet everyone eagerly waited with burning anticipation as to how Rory would react. One thing I knew about Rory was that she loved being made a spectacle- and she never failed in giving a show. Rory took another step closer to Alana’s face.
“ You better say you’re sorry, you stupid hippo.” Rory hissed through the crack of her bared front teeth. The cafeteria only further bolstered Rory’s ego through their excited murmurings amongst each other. I could tell she was just lapping it up.
Despite this scare tactic, Alana bawled her stubby fingers into a fist and stepped closer to Rory’s face.
“ No.”
Rory’s face twisted in astonishment. I suppose it hadn’t occurred to her that sheer intimidation wouldn’t ward off a strong person like Alana, as she herself was daunting. Rory had underestimated her, and was more than taken aback by the response. Then, she looked at me- her hazel eyes beckoned me to come to her assistance.
“ Girl, come get your friend.” Rory sneered, her last attempt to regain her superiority.
I knew that this was a test. A horrible, manipulative hazing that I was intrinsically mandated to do. If I was going to be a part of them, I was going to have to detach from anything that would restrict me from doing so. I had already ridden myself from my burdening weight, embarrassingly niche interests, and unappealing looks. Now I had to cut myself from the last string of my past- Alana. Milk bottle in hand, the sound of my thunderous heartbeat replaced the echoing slap of my rhinestone sandals against the cafeteria floor. My throat felt dry and itchy as I searched for words to spill from it.
I looked into the eyes of Alana. They were so fiery and bold, but the flames seemed to extinguish once I came into view. In her eyes, I saw the cherished memories we shared together; times of childhood innocence and naivete. The times when joy was abundant, and melancholy didn’t dare to prevail against it. I saw the self-assured twinkle in her eye that I had admired so deeply, and began to feel a small grin inch across my face at its recognition. Suddenly, I heard that dreadful sound of snickering that always seemed to haunt me, emit from Rory. Alongside of her, was that of Donovan and Leah who were laughing heartily at me and Alana. Oh no, this situation felt all too familiar. The sympathy and affinity that I had felt toward Alana had quickly dwindled into rage and insecurity. When I saw Alana I saw the horrible past that I had worked years to run away from. I saw the me that was disgraced and disparaged. I saw the me that I hated.
“ That is NOT my friend.” I spat those words out as if they were liquidated with poison. Then, in the spur of the moment, I untwisted the top of my milk bottle and launched it into Alana’s face. Immediately afterwards, I marched heatedly out the cafeteria with Rory and Leah to the girl’s bathroom.
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To this day, I cannot possibly express the amount of remorse, the amount of regret, the amount of utter shame I felt for doing that to Alana. We never talked again after that incident. We don’t hangout anymore, we don’t have sleepovers anymore, and her parents don’t visit us anymore. Yes, I had succeeded in my goal for social acceptance. I was a victor, but at such an abundance of costs. My mental health, my physical health, my self-identity, and my only true friendship. I had single-handedly compromised such integral aspects of my individuality just for a glimpse of popularity. For what? To be surrounded by wolves in sheep’s clothing? To constantly feel like I have to please and oblige all those around me? You know, it's funny. Everyday, I pause and revisit the lunch table that Alana and I used to sit in. At each visit, a burning realization comes to mind: our segregated table was much closer than I had originally thought.
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912
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Write about a prince or princess who is asked to give up something valuable as part of a deal to escape the world they come from.
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PEOPLE VERSUS THE KING
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The kingdom of Anaka is on earth’s twin planet GAIA2 which is still evolving about 800 years behind. A committee of the Governing Council was in session with the King and his Prime Minister (PM) present. Jellon the prosecutor was making a case against wrong doings.
Jellon addressed HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS (HRH) and PM and said “People of Anaka have our king as protector. He has largely ruled wisely and well. Still there are some cases where citizens are unhappy. I will bring before this Council those cases. I will start with the construction of the lighthouse. It was awarded to citizen Janga at an estimated cost of 20,000 Gecks. The construction was considerably delayed and finally cost 30,000 Gecks. HRH had approved the extra expenditure.”
Sundu, one of the council members said “I had opposed awarding the contract to Janga who is PM’s nephew. Also because Janga is close to Chili.......”
PM cut in and said “Sundu you mustn’t drag in names of people who aren’t here to defend themselves.”
Jellon continued “The construction of household wells was subsidised by HRH. A very big sum has been claimed by citizens who said they had to dig deep as water was also needed for agriculture. PM had allowed the expenditure which HRH had approved. We know that such deep wells weren’t needed as water for agriculture is being fed through channels from the dam on the river Keet.” After a pause Jellon continued “HRH had ordered that there should be no betting on chariot races, but it was allowed by....”
PM said “Your RH, nobody allowed it. Certain persons did it for private gain.”
Sundu again got up and said “The betting went on under....”
PM said “Sundu, please don’t mention names of people who aren’t here and can’t be questioned based on hearsay.”
Jellon continued “We recently faced flood havoc when the river Keet over-flowed and people who lived near the banks were washed away. Many houses were destroyed, some becoming totally unfit to live in. Compensation was authorised by HRH and as against an estimate of 400,000 Gecks another 100,000 has been paid.”
PM said “In fact even that amount was inadequate as fishermen who had lost boats and earnings had to be compensated. Farmland was submerged and farmers had to be helped with money. There is still a shortage of 100,000 Gecks to pay to those who had suffered.”
Councillor Pico got up and said “I fully agree with PM. I am a cultivator and have 2 farms with labourers working under me. I had to help them out following the river’s flooding. PM has asked me to wait till he can get funds.”
Sundu got up and said “Pico is exaggerating. Money has been siphoned off by PM and Chili.....”
PM said “No personal attacks. For instance, I haven’t even heard of anyone named Chili.”
Sundu shouted “How dare you say that! Everyone knows Chili. She organises dance events at festivals and has a big group of girls working for her. In fact she......”
PM said “We can’t waste time on wild allegations. Jellon, please continue.”
Jellon said “The 10th anniversary of HRH’s reign was celebrated. Of course it was done in grand style in which citizens of Anaka participated in a big way. There was feasting and dancing over three days. The money spent on the event was far in excess of the budget. The bill for food went through the roof.”
PM said “It was natural as our people love HRH and practically every one of them attended the event.”
Sundu said “Chili got a big amount of it. How? Let me explain. There was.....”
PM again said “We don’t recognize an outsider named Chili. Sundu should stop mentioning her name and alleging her doings. Mister Prosecutor, please continue.”
However Sundu said “I won’t be silenced. Let PM explain why Mench was murdered.”
PM said “Sundu has been using names of various people who are not connected with the Governing Council. He must stop.”
Jellon continued “I have almost closed my arguments. If appropriate, HRH may order an inquiry into financial irregularities if any.”
There was silence for a few moments after which HRH announced “I nominate Councillor Sundu to inquire into all the allegations.”
PM said “Your RH, Sundu is not competent to take up such an onerous task. May I suggest Councillor Pico as the right man to inquire.”
HRH said “I’ve heard you but Sundu will be my nominee.”
Sundu started the inquiry separately. He summoned Chili, a woman of about 35. She came and stood before him in her usual dress which covered her only from waist down. Her spreading abdomen could be seen with birth narks prominently exhibited as if they had been tattooed.
Sundu said “Chili, I want the truth. You can speak openly as you will have HRH’s protection.”
She said “Sir, I’ll confess. I am a simple citizen who cannot read or write. When I depose it will all be in my unpolished tongue. I was PM’s mistress and one of my two children is his. He organized the betting on chariot races which brought me a big sum but he left only a third to me. The rest went to him. Pico sided with PM to grab as much public money as he could. PM gave up sleeping with me as he was inadequate in bed. At the birthday celebration of HRH he got drunk, and got a few of my girls to dance naked before him. I feel strongly about it. If I were a man I wouldn’t have done it as girls have nothing to show whereas men carry their family jewels concealed with them. I don’t know what made PM look at naked girls. Women’s private parts are meant only for midwives to handle and not for men to ogle. Mench was also my lover and often visited me. It was not only because of my innovations with him in bed and cooperating with him when he sometimes failed, that he would discuss many matters with me and seek my advice. Mench was planning to become PM after getting the present PM out. Suspecting such a happening, PM had Mench killed making it appear he had been trampled by a wild elephant. Through my sources I have learnt that PM was planning to kill me as well with Pico’s assistance.”
Sundu called various witnesses who exposed PM’s misdeeds which he reported to HRH.
HRH said “I feel sorry that I had taken the advice of PM who was so corrupt. I order seizure of all his possessions and sentence him to go into exile never again to return to my kingdom. I sentence Pico to prison for a year for having sided with PM in his misdeeds. I also order that Pico’s property be seized, never to be returned. I appoint you to be PM in place of the exiled member.”
Sundu sid “Your RH, I am pleased to accept. But justice has to be done for the loss of public money. It is Your RH who had approved all of the former PM’s actions.”
HRH said “I was misled by him. How do I make amends?”
Sundu thought a little and said “Your RH acquired the priceless Maze diamond which you had presented to your daughter the Princess. If it could be transferred to the treasury, that would be amends.”
HRH was absorbed in thought for a little while and then said “I agree to your proposal. I’ll get the Princess to transfer the Maze diamond as reparation though I know she would be reluctant to do it.”
END
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12
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Start your story with someone being presented with a dilemma.
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Pepper Vs Chilli Flakes
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I steadied myself on the stool.
“Wow,” I muttered. I would have fallen down. I tried to press my feet to chase the tingle under it. I blew out. Slowly raised my hands to pick the box which was placed above the cupboard. It was covered by cobwebs. I pushed it away and picked the box. I pulled it towards my side and try to weigh it. It was not bad. I can carry it. I pulled it closer to me and picked it from the top of the cupboard at the same time.
Thud.
I blinked. Again. I looked down on the floor through the empty box which has its underneath torn.
I jumped from the chair. I placed the box near me and looked at the things which fell from the old box. I sat next to it. There were old albums which probably filled with dead people. Some unnecessary objects must be precious to the owner. Few small boxes with needles and Coins. Cobweb colour threads. Few insects and bugs. A small book.
My mother came from the door. Her face was peaceful till she saw me sitting with the old boxes.
“Pink. What are you doing? Get up from the dust. Now.” My mother’s eyes spat fire.
I always admire my mother’s ability to turn from an innocent, elegant lady to a devilish commander in a minute.
Should I tell her that I am 23 and not 2.3? Well if I try she will reduce 2/3 of my lifetime.
“Ok, mom.” I saluted her and got up.
“Well, what are you doing?” My angelic mom is back. I am safe.
“Cleaning our new house? This room is filled with the last occupant. I like their golden heart, Mom. They cleaned the whole house and placed all their items which they don’t need in this room. Out of all the rooms, the last room in the third floor. How kind? We have to take all this from here to downstairs to throw away.” I bit my lips looking around.
Half of the room is filled with dirty boxes and broken furniture.
My mother laughed. “Go. Go and wash your hands. Help your father in the kitchen.”
“He is cooking again?” I lifted my eyebrows.
My mother nodded and tried to control her laugh. I huffed. My father is cooking. What am I going to eat for lunch? Already I am hungry. I looked down and my eyes locked on the small book. I picked it up.
“Pink!” My mother yelled.
I ran before she wanted me to put it down. I slide her right and ran downstairs.
When I was on the ground floor I opened the book.
“Ha!” It is a recipe book. I can’t believe my adventure became nothing. Few locations about the hidden treasure in the house would have been what I expected. I looked closely at the book.
The handwriting was printed. The notes were clear. The measurement of every ingredient was mentioned. Why those ingredients were needed is also mentioned. The book was filled with recipes.
“Must be tasted horrible. Otherwise, no one will through away their recipe book even if their kitchen blew away.” I jumped from the voice next to my ear.
I turned to see my father looking down at the book. I placed a hand on my heart to calm down. I huffed.
“Dad? Do you want to conduct my funeral before housewarming?” I demanded.
“As mother so the daughter.” He rolled his eyes.
“Stop digging our new house and help me in the kitchen. Come.”
“Why did you fight with mom this time?”
“You don’t need to know that. When you are a child, be a child.”
“I do need to know. Every time you fight with her. You refuse to eat her food. To save money and time, mom wanted you to cook. And I hate your cooking.”
“How dare you? I raise you by caring for you in my chest. You won’t eat my food. I cook way better than your mother. Even she can criticize me. Not you. You ‘water burning’ cook.” He held my ear and dragged me to the kitchen.
He placed me in front of the sink and went to the island.
“Go and wash your hand. We try from that book. Clean that book too.”
“Ok. I put it in the washing machine along with myself.” I ducked the spoon, my father, throw at me. I cleaned the book and washed my hands.
I took the book and looked for a recipe.
‘CHICKEN BRIYANI WITH EGG GRAVY’
I showed it to my father. He plucked the book from my hand and started to read the ingredient.
“What are you doing? When I call out you are supposed to run to pick the ingredients. Those days we used to fly when we work.” I huffed and went to the opened boxes and searched for every item.
We found every item. Well, almost.
“Pink, come and read this item.” My father tried hard to read it.
I looked at it. It was smuggled. And was not clear. My father looked at other papers and every pace has the same smudge. The problem is it was not there before when we saw it. I looked at my father. His face is filled with realization.
“How did you clean this book?”
I blinked. I won’t tell him. But he guessed. I peeked at the book.
“Why we need that ingredient?”
I read out loud, “For spicy, add two teaspoons. Let’s add pepper.” I suggested.
“No, let’s add Chilli Flakes”
“Pepper.”
“Chilli Flakes.”
It went back and forth for few minutes. We started our own theories to prove why our item is best.
We followed the recipe and cooked it in-between. The time comes for spiciness. We push each other to put pepper and Chilli Flakes. The smell reeked from the pan was horrible. We blinked. Actually, we both don’t know what to do. It’s my father’s cooking with me so the food will definitely taste ‘too good. We are cooking someone’s recipe who we don’t know. If the food was not good we will blame that person. If we put my ingredient I will be blamed. We both huffed. We looked at each other and smiled. Because we both realized it.
“Dad, I should listen to you. Let’s put you...”
“No, you found the book so you...”
My mother came. She studied us. We tried to cover up our fight. My mother placed the small basket of Green Chilli and left.
We looked at each other and nodded our heads.
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585
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Write a story that feels lonely, despite being set in a packed city.
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Pianissississimo
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I pin lyrics up on my walls, even though I’ve never heard the music to go along with the words. Prisma says music used to be everywhere you turned and even when you were sitting completely still, the songs would still manage to find you. She says there were machines, all kinds of machines, that you could listen to whatever song you liked. There were these collections- she calls them playlists and her eyes get misty when she tells me about how Gray made over seventeen of them for her, one for each year they knew each other- that were all your favorite songs in one. Or they could be songs that fit a certain mood, time, age, place, whatever you could think, there was music for that. I wish there was still music everywhere we turned, but all I find are the lyrics, so I pin them to my walls; fading reminders of a world I’ll never know. I wonder what the words sound like put to music, but then again I have no clue what music is, so I can’t wonder all that well to begin with. Prisma says to imagine music as whatever I want it to be, but that it’ll never amount to what it was. You’d think I’d be devastated, but I’m not. Compared to other things I’ll never see, music seems like a small price to pay. Prisma and Gray shake their heads at me when I tell them this. Prisma and Gray cry when they think of their lost songs too long. Gray sits by his soundless piano and tears stain the broken keys. Prisma hold her guitar like a mother would hold a child. I watch them, because I don’t understand. There are boxes, you see, and music notes fill up too many. True love ain't something you can buy yourselfTrue love finally happens when you by yourselfSo if you by yourself, then go and buy yourselfAnother round from the bottle on the higher shelfThose are lyrics I have pinned directly above the bed. Prisma gave them to me for my birthday; she had scrawled them out on a ripped and taped down the middle paper towel I used to clean up a spaghetti spill on the same day. She handed me the paper towel and it was heavy with words and spaghetti sauce and the words were all mine. Well, not mine, exactly, because I didn’t write them. I never sang them, or danced to them like Gray tells me the artists used to do, but I read them. I know them. So in that way, they are mine. In the other way, they belonged to Lizzo, a woman Prisma says was one of the most beautiful in all history, not only for her music but for her way of life itself. I want that. I want to be beautiful for my way of life. I wonder if Prisma was like Lizzo in her days of youth, before the machines all broke and the boxes got too small for music notes but still managed to fit plastic cups and tacky t-shirts. I wonder what the rest of the song is, but Prisma only gave me part. It makes sense, though, because most of what I have is in parts. I never think of them as broken, just incomplete. Broken needs fixing, but incomplete just needs another piece. Isn’t that the funniest thing you ever heard? So close to perfect, yet the puzzle is infinite. What did you mean, Lizzo, when you said true love? I think you meant Prisma and Gray and their music. They love each other, and they love me, and they love their memories of music. I love what I have but want more than what I love. Does that make me a bad person? I hope not. I hope I can be what Prisma thinks of, hmm, maybe not Lizzo. She loves her, but there’s another one who Prisma and Gray both talk of with reverence in their voice. If Prisma considered Lizzo a friend, she considered Beyonce her Queen. I look and stare so deep in your eyesI touch on you more and more every timeWhen you leave, I'm begging you not to goCall your name two, three times in a rowSuch a funny thing for me to try to explainHow I'm feeling and my pride is the one to blame'Cause I know I don't understandJust how your love can do what no one else canGray says that song makes him crazy in love, and Prisma just laughs and then remembers she’s not supposed to be happy about music so she gets quiet and her smile still hangs on, a sliver of rebellion in the purest of ways. I have those words, the royal decree, I suppose, of Queen B, on the wall beside my dresser. I read them as I get dressed for the day and try my best to sound the letters into music, but I can’t. If Prisma and Gray could sing, I’d know what it was to be part of universe, but they would be destroyed for that. I can live without being part of the universe. I can’t live without them. They aren’t my parents, in case you were curious about them. My parents did sing, long after it was prohibited, and now they’re only flickers of warm light in the back of my mind. They never sang to me, though. They went out to the illicit music tunnels and they played their guitars and flutes and tubas and all the other instruments I can see littering this apartment like decaying bodies, void of sound and soul. This is Ground Control to Major TomYou've really made the gradeAnd the papers want to know whose shirts you wearNow it's time to leave the capsule if you dare"This is Major Tom to Ground ControlI'm stepping through the doorAnd I'm floating in a most peculiar wayAnd the stars look very different todayFor hereAm I sitting in a tin canFar above the worldPlanet Earth is blueAnd there's nothing I can doAnd it seems there is nothing I can do. Prisma tells me now as we sit side by side and fold the laundry into triangles, that the song my parents died singing was a song called Space Oddity, by a man who everyone thought would be immortal called David Bowie. I frown and take the paper from her. My parents, my very own Mother and Dad, died for these words. What do they even mean? I fold that into a triangle too, then stick it in my front pocket and thank Prisma for telling me, though what I want to say is not thank you. I want to ask why. Not why they had to sing and die, but what was it about this particular song that compelled them to choose it over all others? Out of the hundreds of lyrics I have pinned to white walls, why should these make the cut as, “My Parent’s Last Words?” I fold a pair of pants into a rectangle instead of a triangle. Prisma slaps at my wrist. She hates for me to break regulations but some days I feel like it doesn’t matter what Prisma thinks. What would my mother tell me? I think she would tell me to throw the laundry basket out the window and watch it flutter down to the sidewalk. Hey mom, dead momI need a little help hereI'm prob'ly talking to myself hereBut dead mom, I gotta askAre you really in the ground?'Cause I feel you all around meAre you here, dead mom?Dead momGray used to act and sing and dance on a stage in New York. He has a tattoo on his wrist that says B, but it stands for Broadway, not Beyonce. When I was younger and they were first telling me about my parents being, you know, obliterated, Gray handed me a torn piece of fabric with the lyrics from a show, he said, that was called Beetlejuice. It was about a girl whose mother was dead as well, and she sang about it. She got to sing about it. I just have to keep all my thoughts in my dumb old head so how about that for lucky, huh, Miss Lydia? Yeah. She’s lucky. I’m whatever the absence of luck and the absence of unluck is. I just am. It’s a good thing, though, because if I wasn’t instead of was, then where would I be? Oh, man, I crack myself up sometimes. At least jokes were never outlawed, because Prisma says laughter is music all on it’s own. “You’re never fully dressed without a smile, okay?” And that must be a song too, because her eyes get very concentrated on not making it sound like one. It’s awful but I wish she would. I wish she would mess up and sing a whole entire song and then I would learn it via osmosis and then one day I would accidentally sing it too and Gray would join in and we’d all look at each other and know this was the last time our mouths would utter a single freaking syllable but it would be beautiful. And then we’d die. Just like my parents. Thinking of this makes me morose. I leave for my bedroom. It's not too late To whip itWhip it goodWhen a good time turns around You must whip itYou will never live it down Unless you whip itNo one gets away Until they whip itThis is not written on paper or fabric or wood or anything. I wrote it on my hands and I write it everyday, tracing the last times work with my soft black pens. Under my work gloves, no one can see my secret song.I found it in a massive old book in the ruins of a library; the rest of the pages were too singed too save, but that’s okay. This song was a message. This song was given to me as a personal gift from the universe, by the universe, for me, a semi slice of the universe. It’s not too late Things could change for Prisma and Gray and I. We could get out of this apartment and go live on a stupidly large ranch with a bucket load of animals that smell but are lovely all the same. Gray could stop working at the grocery store and Prisma could start working at the daycare again, like she used to love. I could go back to school, if the schools opened again and their empty gaping holes for stomachs were filled with grubby kids in need of educating. Things could change, you know. To whip itI could be a shining beacon in the darkest of nights, holding a microphone as a lamp unto my feet and walking one foot in front of the other because I can and will and yes, I could do that. I could whip it. Whip it goodI know the denotation of the word is to hit something, break something, hurt something, but for me it means to overcome something, to rise above everything, to be afraid of nothing. When a good time turns around The fate that befell us was unfortunate, but what came before the soundless days were the vibrant days that made people write and sing and dance and live, live, live, live, live like no one was watching. It was a good time. It turned around. This is a bad time but there was sunshine before the thunder, and I believe the sun will rise again. You must whip itYou. You must whip it. Not Prisma, not Gray, not my dead mom or dad or grandparents or that weird kid named Jimmy who always has his finger stuck three quarters up his nose like that thing’s a gold mine or something. They can’t whip it. You. That means me. I have to. I must. Not a choice! A command. I will. I have to. I must. You will never live it down That’s right, I’ll never live it down because I’ll be ashamed of myself if I don’t try. Who can you disappoint more than your own self? Unless you whip itUnless, unless. No one gets away Because no one can do anything Until they whip it This would be my song, if I was my parents. If I knew the way to sing and I knew what music was, even if I couldn’t hear it but I could feel it under my hands in the vibrations, then I would sing this song. It would be a way to say yes I really can to all the people who tell me to shut the heck up and go about my business like a good citizen. No! I won’t. For once and for all, today I decide I am going to find the music because if it was so true, so much, so absolute that my parents died for it and my Prisma and Gray cry for it’s loss every night, well, then I want it too. I start to race around my room, reading the words by DEVO chicken scratched into my palms and wrists and elbows, and I take the lyrics down. I’m taking them with me, so that when I find what I’m looking for, I’ll have the words to the music and I will sing louder than five thousand geese on Christmas day. I’ll search this lonely city high and low and I will explode. Or be obliterated. Or get scared and come home and jump in my bed and pull the covers over my head and never try anything ever again. But for chicken chalupa’s sake, I will try. For once in my life, I’ll do this my way. I've loved, laughed and criedI've had my fill, my share of losingAnd now, as tears subsideI find it all so amusingTo think I did all that And may I say, not in a shy wayOh no, no, not meI did it my way
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6,097
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Write a story about someone feeling powerless.
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Powerless Now, Soon To Be Bold
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It was like everything that I saw was dark. A non stop eclipse. Seemed I was a blind who wanted a guide to go somewhere that could make me happy. I'd been sacrificing a lot. I was crawling to a rocky mountain of hardship with my tears pouring down as I mumbled this with my trembling voice of anguish:Alone with my sobsMy existence in this worldis obviously not to laugh but to cry...~~~~The CD player plays a mellow music, I can see mania birds resting on the window grill.I don't know exactly what they are listening to: Is it the Iovely lyrics of the song or the sobbing of my heart?I already accepted the fact that my destiny was really to cry. I even wrote this poem to express my pain and sadness. Imprinting the wounds and scars in me. Like a machosist, kept tolerating the agony. Through this piece I felt my heart was crumpled and thrown away. I felt powerless and hopeless at the same time on how to become better in the future.Someone asked me this: Why everytime I see you in the pavement walking, you seemed not in your mind? You felt lonely. I could see that in your eyes."My answer then was just a deep breath. My life had been a drama that even if I would offer my story to a writer she would ignore it for she didn't want her pen cried of so much woe.This conversation suddenly popped up in my weird brain.Probably I would tell this just to convince her:The ballpen really cries because of its ink. So why you don't want to? "Hmmm...A philophisical question is not a reason to answer you a yes. That I am going to accept your story. I don't want to feel heavy and like pricking me everytime I will do my writing.""Why a journalist told me once that sadness is an art?" I insisted."Well it depends. Yours is torturing. I don't want to feel that way as I've said earlier.""I understand. I will just write my own story even if it hurts me to the core." My thumb was numb. My eyes just spared a gaze on the blank pages of the paperpads that I prepared on my table. The ballpen seemed refusing to stand up. As if a lazy child just lying on her bed, as lonely as the dried leaves that fall on her transparent window, then on the grassy ground. Quiet.Sad.I talk to my pilot pen as though a driver who commanded her jeepney."Stand up, I want you to cooperate with me!"It had no ears, no mouth to speak. I didn't want to be like my pen. A powerless too.I picked it up, I started the first word in my mind. I prepared a box of tissue as well because I knew that my tears would automatically fall down. "Should I prepare a pail too?" My crazy mind asked this. I sighed. I was thinking thoroughly on how to begin with it. My decision was final. A poem then a question. Sad Memories of a Poor Child A lass who only wanted to survive,she did everything for her family,climbed grassy mountain with great vibe, took each way right with empty tummy. Firewoods on her two thin small shoulders, her cool father would smile wouldn't cry, she carried to the market to sell, no fares;life full of tough times but she wasn't shy.She bought a cheap corn rice with salted fish, so happy with her single centavo,gave to her mother for her long time wish,her twisted hurdle was quite hard to undo. She learned a lot in this terrible world, dark days make her fiesty, patient, and bold.When would this curse stop? It was easy to conceal weaknesses in a poem just to uplift my spirit.My childhood was as gloomy as those clouds in the storm; with lighting and thunder. With raindrops that were like pointed nails hitting my body. Why this affliction was still here until in my marriage life?I went home from the other country. I worked there as a domestic helper. All I thought the people who I could count on and a shoulder to lean on were the ones who hugely and terribly hurt me. I could not talk here in our house. If I my mouth started to open, my kids answered me as if they were my parents. They even shouted at me everytime I had something to say. Perhaps you would surprise why they were like that. It was already a no wonder for me because my husband's family were also like them. I've been living in the place of my behalf for years. No relatives. Nothing at all.From the day I lived here, I already felt their cringing treatment to me. I had been through a lot of trials raising my kids but no one of his family was there for me. I was just alone then for my husband was in abroad. A solo flight fight. As my memory recalling it all. I worked for almost eight straight year in one boss only in Hongkong. It was the first time I stayed longer. Everything they did towards me was extremely hurting. No respect at all. My sacrifice was taken for granted. Seemed they forgot my relationship with them. That was the hardest thing to imagine and the most pricking. They just wanted money from me. They even blamed me because they were broke. How about myself? I went home because of the masses in my breasts. I needed to rest and to stress free myself from work but those thoughts were totally the contrary.I had already a big problem with my kids; but my husband still tolerated them. Their yelling at me and everything. The worse part was that in my one year and a month of stay here, he never gave me money without paying it back. If I asked, it would automatically a debt.So when I worked as a call center representative last year. I paid it all. No single centavo was left unpaid. I paid what I owed from him. When the Covid -19 was starting to devastate every source of living and life-here and abroad, he was more severe. I forced myself to understand even if he had a lot of money from his home service work as a technician. If I would try to ask even a coin, he would reply me to get coins that he put somewhere -- for me to have money. It was not about the money that hurt me but it was about how he tolerated my children even if he knew exactly that it was wrong. They could reason out but not to the point that they had to shout or say things that were so hurting to me as their mother. I felt powerless.Until this very moment of writing, I never eat what their meals are. I buy my own food and stuff. I feel weak but I have to stand up by my own someday and give myself happiness that nobody can ever give to me. I have to reach what I aimed before when I was small. I have to love myself more because nobody will love me except me and those few people who are just my aquaintances but value me as a person. Now, I am in this room writing again a sad poem- wishing that somehow after this murky and blustery surroundings of my life there's still a rainbow after the rain:im surroundedby these four wallsplanning to pastepoems of painon its facadetrying to countthe countless
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4,754
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Write a story that begins in the light and ends in darkness, or the other way around.
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Predestination in a triangle
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It was an unusual eternal triangle, everyone was happy, all three knew about each other and were content with the situation. Two of the team were looking forward to meeting the third party and likewise the third link was over the moon with happiness. It was time for them to meet face to face and become better acquainted.
He knew all about her, he had seen pictures of her, he already loved her unconditionally even though they had never met. A brilliant light seemed to envelope them.
Born to middle class normal families both Jade and Paul had a happy childhood with just the usual ups and downs.
Teenage years followed the same pattern with the ordinary problems of teenage years.
From teen years to their twenties, time to decide on their future, both decided to continue with their studies Some sacrifice but nothing drastic and there were many highlights attached to this era in their lives. New friends, parties, outings and new experiences. Jade and Paul graduated within a year of each other, she a teacher and he an accountant. They loved their jobs and both were pleased with what life had to offer. Their lives seemed to be so blessed.
Commitment to marriage was still not in their schedule until they met at a common friend’s birthday party. Love at first sight, predestination? Who knows? The blazing light was rarely blurred by darkness. Little did they know of the dark cloud on the horizon.
They planned to marry, then some years to enjoy each other and life, furnish their home and save some money. The last but not least on their bucket list but the pinnacle of their dreams, raising a family perhaps two or three children and now that time is finally here.
They were so enthusiastic and it certainly was not through their lack of trying but month after month, year after year and still no pregnancy. Months seemed like days and years seemed like months. Darkness seemed to have replaced the light in their lives, they had to find a way out of this darkness.
The professionals could find nothing physically wrong with them and later suggested tests and treatments but it was to no avail.
Sometimes their hopes were raised but when they made a pregnancy test the result was always in the Negative. Once light seemed to seep through when unexpectedly a pregnancy test resulted in the Positive.
A visit to their doctor, who recommended they make an appointment with a gynecologist. But a test concluded that the embryo was lifeless. it was Back to darkness.
The clock was ticking for Jade, they feared they had left it too late.
They considered IVF, but what if it was unsuccessful?
Finally they decided on adoption, it will take time, money and patience but it was the most promising, a long process but an aspiring light.
So much to go through, so many papers, so many appointments and so many dreams.
An inner light shone on Jade's face as she put down the telephone and looked at Paul who was looking questioningly at her.
“ It’s the adoption Society they have news for us, we have a meeting for Wednesday, we have passed the test we’re going to become parents”. A light has threaded through the darkness, the adoption rigorous procedure has found them commendable.
“ Our dreams will soon come true. Happy birthday sweetheart, exciting and wonderful times lie ahead of us.“ That was Paul’s post on facebook to his wife on her birthday some months ago.
The pandemic seemed to be slowing down. Time to start preparing for that long awaited trip but then the cases were on the increase. The covid pandemic played havoc with their lives and their hearts, it kept changing their plans for five months. The number of cases kept increasing and decreasing in a maddening pattern constantly changing from light to darkness, darkness again and then at last the light kept blazing, they could go ahead with their plans.
“The light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it.”
The great day arrived, the missing part in the triangle will soon be in place and they will be complete..
They met her and even the masks they wore didn’t hide the love and happiness reflected in their eyes. They were seeing her in flesh and blood at last.
Oh how pretty, oh how sweet, oh how lovable, she’s a ray of sunshine. the light in our lives. But they couldn’t hug her, there was the social distancing to be observed but still sparks flew, love was in the air. Little fingers pointed at him and reached out to touch him, he yearned to grip them and hold her but he held back for safety’s sake, there will be plenty of time for hugs. But he was so happy, she loved him, she trusted him, she saw the light in him.
On their way to the hotel Jade teased Paul telling him that the child was already daddy’s girl and he felt so proud and so happy already visualizing the great times ahead.
Jade and Paul did not feel so well the next morning and the doctor advised them to make a Covid swab test. The result for both of them was positive, so quarantine and not visiting their daughter, their baby. Why was it that when they longed for a negative result they got a positive one and vice versa?
Within a short time Jade tested negative and for some time Paul seemed to be getting better but then he took a turn for the worse and was taken to hospital.
The pandemic was moving at a fast pace and the danger was increasing every day. They were advised to return to their native country, arrangements were soon under way and their departure was imminent.
They were returning as a family, the triangle was formed and all the links were present, although one part was physically apart.
Paul had accompanied his family to the airport in an ambulance wailing all the way and Jade and the child in a taxi.
The child was in her mother’s arms, all was packed and ready, dad was in the ambulance hospital which was now near the plane and ready to board it.
Chaos all of a sudden, everything and everyone seemed to be in slow motion. Why did it seem so dark?
What has happened, why does the world seem to be at a standstill?
Jade hugged the child closer as if to ward off the scene, the darkness that seemed to be developing around them.
Paul believed in predestination, this was meant to be, he had done his part, his wife had her wish granted she was now a mother and she will be bonding strongly to their daughter through him, he’ll never be forgotten.
He was so tired and they were safe so now it was time for him to leave, but his lovely little angel, his daughter will take his place and be the guiding light to her mother, his wife.
He left his heart to fill the space she left in her country and she will fill the space he emptied when he left his.
The light at the end of the tunnel for him and for her the light at the starting point.
Was it meant to be the ultimate sacrifice for the light to be passed on to one who until now has known so much darkness?.
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11,665
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Start your story with the whistle of a kettle.
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Pressing Leaves
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The spout of the dingy brass kettle released steam at a boil -the shrill whistle that once made arm hairs stand at attention is mute. It’s been silent for years but often the smoke alarm blares instead and the kitchen window drips with condensation. On such occasions, the aging, jaded, faithful kettle shakes from emptiness, burning from the heat below it and belching poison smoke into the air in a final effort to draw attention to itself.
Molly pulls a tureen-sized mug from the closet grabbing a tea packet from a jar overflowing with caffeine-free choices. She sets it down on the table next to Peter’s smaller, half-empty mug of instant coffee he'd prepared for himself only minutes before whilst craning his neck to see the television news blaring at full volume. Peter proceeds, as he does every evening, to engage with the reporters, local and national politicians, and even the actors in the commercials. Molly, in turn, cradles the warm mug and stares at the wall of photos at the far end of the room, drowning out the noise around her with the louder voices in her head.
Molly looks at the photos of Kevin and Anna on the wall above the mantle- the two beings that along with the dog, made the house a home and life worth living. Suffering a marriage gone loveless over the last decade was almost a joyful sacrifice if it meant giving those wonderful beings a stable home, running interference, and keeping them oblivious to the pain and disappointment that welled in her throat and turned to acid while she slept.
Molly often wonders if she actually disappeared or if she had simply made herself small over so many years of keeping the peace. She tried to temper the outbursts when the pendulum swung and manic high became desperate angry lows by taking only shallow breaths in a room where his mere entrance sucked out the air.
She thinks about the time before this, and although it's farther in the distance than her memories can see, she knows that at one time, the mere sight of her made him tear up as he brushed her hair to the side to get a better look at her face. He’d breathe in the smell of her neck as though it gave him life, he’d framed her multiple diplomas, filled her gas tank, warmed her slippers, and filled the kettle at night to make her tea.
As for herself, Molly remembers when his gray hair was jet black, and his eyes were brooding like Heathcliff’s and she imagined like Kathy did, that only she really understood him; that their relationship was transcendent and everyone else was dead wrong about the signs. She quickly became addicted to the way he smothered her with attention, the way he seemed to love the physical flaws he so aptly pointed out and she took it to mean that no one else but he would ever love such imperfections. Fighting was loud and frequent, but it was surely because they were passionate people on fire... most certainly nothing basic white-bread America could ever understand. To protect this pearl of great price, she abandoned friends that weren’t his, and family who’d raised flags. She silenced every voice in her head, every pain in her stomach, and proceeded down the path of self-inflicted sadness, and internal rage.
Alone. Peter waited for this time to have her all to himself again. He even saw his own children as competitors to be taken down as it was clear they embodied every ounce of Molly’s love. She’d found a thundering voice when it came to them. With ferocity and purpose, she undermined him at every turn, disgusted with his cruel and archaic methods of education and child-rearing. As of late, he often snickered about how Molly’s “projects” had left her for the world, and there she was all alone; as if that would return her to the pathetic state in which he’d found her thirty years before. As if he could once again control, dominate, and determine the course of her life, this time by ignoring her very existence.
For no special reason on that day, at that time, wearing a pink robe and house shoes, clutching a half-finished crossword puzzle and an empty mug, Molly understood that the project to which she’d devoted 25 of her 55 years had been left incomplete. She’d taught manners by being polite, compassion by showing it, forgiveness by offering it. She remembered young Kevin cradling her head against his chest before his big move imploring her to think of herself for once and build a life of her own. Anna, always direct said “if you don’t leave now, you never will” and begged Molly to join her in New York. Molly seemed no longer capable of feeling things herself, and if she was to find any motivation for change, it had to be couched in caring for Kevin and Anna.
Modeling, it’s called— embodying the actions and values you want to see in your children. What about standards? Self-respect? Independence? Self Reliance? Bravery? Molly was suddenly hit with the anxious belly— the stab of fear when a mistake was realized. If she’d never modeled any of these behaviors she’d jeopardized the kids’ futures. Would Anna be drawn in by a dark-eyed and brooding stranger dressed in red flags? Would Kevin become a brooding, controlling, angry man himself and ruin someone else’s child in an effort to control them? That was it...for their sake and that of future generations she must extricate herself from the unlocked prison.....
Rising, Molly quietly filled the kettle once again, this time setting it atop the wood-burning stove in the library. She knew it would take longer but it always seemed that the tea just tasted better when prepared this way. If one thinks about it, the time something takes matters little in the larger scheme of the atmosphere. The point is, that once enough heat is applied, water molecules break free. Molly placed the whistling kettle on a ceramic trivet so the whistle turned sweeter, quieter, gentler and the steam freely coated the air harshly dried by the intensity of the flames.
She lifted the house phone and made two consecutive calls.
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4,902
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Write a story about a tea party that your character is reluctant to go to.
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Prison for Tea
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Lionel wasn’t the spontaneous type; he was a man who stuck to a schedule, his unruly hair brushed every morning by five a.m. While many struggle under the weight of a busy to-do list, this man excelled. His mantra was, “if you’re not ten minutes early, you’re late”. Admired and respected by most, Lionel was top of his class and had the prospects of a productive and successful future. And for the first time in nearly ten years, Lionel found himself void of things to do. According to his schedule, he had three hours of free time before soccer practice that evening. His mother was expected to be home thirty minutes before then—enough time to eat dinner and drive him to the field. For a man in the fifth grade, he made a scrumptious mac and cheese finished with crisp bacon. Lionel made dinner, finished the week’s homework in record time, and all of his friends had made plans with their own family for the extended holiday. Not knowing what to do, he found himself swinging on the swingset in the backyard.“Discovering a cure for cancer?” Abbey asked, her small blonde head popping up over the dividing fence. Lionel grunted.“No.”“Figuring out the last digits of pi?”“No.”“Creating the next Mona Lisa?”“No.”“Perfect,” Abbey confirmed, awkwardly climbing over the fence. “That means you’re not busy, and that means that you can play with me.” Lionel watched her, dumbfounded, as she made her way across the yard and sat herself in the swing beside him. Her short curly hair encircled her round, youthful face. Abbey was two years younger, and for as long as they have been neighbors, she had been determined to come and play. Lionel had always managed to create excuses each time she popped her face over the fence, but this time he drew a blank. He sighed.“What do you want to play?” Lionel inquired, his feet dragging across the ground to slow the swing. Without a second’s thought she answered,“Tea Party.”“You want to play what?” They stared at each other, Abbey not backing down. Shoving his glasses farther up his nose with a glare, Lionel gave in. Abbey wanted to begin immediately, marching herself right into his house like she owned it. He followed, grumbling.Inside, Lionel seated himself at the kitchen counter. At incredible speeds Abbey conducted herself around the kitchen, concocting a kettle of tea in no time. When the napkins were neatly folded and the sugar and milk were set around the dining table, Abbey ran back outside. Raising an eyebrow, Lionel shrugged, getting off of his stool. Beginning to tidy up the table, he heard the back door open once more. When he heard Abbey’s voice, saying that she had forgotten the teacups, he groaned silently. The kettle on the stove began to whistle, so he took it off and gently set it on the table.When the table was all set, including a set of wild dandelions in his mother’s favorite vase, Abbey declared it “perfect”. Taking his seat across from her, he began to add a spoonful of sugar and milk to the tea. While he was doing so, he noticed the Abbey did nothing, instead she stared at him intensely. When he brought the tea cup to his lips, her eyes grew wide, as if waiting for him to explode."What?" He demanded. Abbey seemed to shake out of whatever trance she was in, but even when she began to prepare her own set of tea, she never took her eyes off of his teacup. Shrugging it off as ‘Abbey being Abbey’ Lionel continued to sip his tea, grimacing at the bitter flavor. Adding an abnormal amount of sugar to the tea, it took all his knowledge of table manners to swallow at least two-thirds of the tiny teacup.“You have to drink the whole thing. Otherwise the tea party is a waste.” Abbey told him, although Lionel noticed that she had barely even sipped at hers.“But you haven’t even—” he began, but before he even finished, Abbey tipped her teacup back and gulped down the whole thing. She barely winced, but it was still clear that she wasn’t partial to the tea either. Following her lead, Lionel quickly swallowed the rest of his. Putting his teacup down, his stomach began to rumble uncomfortably. Shifting in his seat, he felt as if he had swallowed a giant air bubble. Across the table from him Abbey burped, her face slightly pale.“What was in that tea?” Lionel asked, beginning to sweat. Abbey ignored him and began to tidy up the tea set, although it was clear she was in pain as well.Lionel wanted to go throw up, but when he got up Abbey stopped him.“Don’t throw up—it will ruin the effects. Let's go outside.”“Effects? What effects?” Abbey rolled her eyes, took his hand, and pulled him out the back door. The sun was so intense; the light half blinded him, making him want to curl up on the ground. When he attempted to, Abbey hauled him back up and on to his feet. She was surprisingly strong for such a tiny human. Lionel’s vision started to swirl, blur, and fade. Lionel wanted to use the words that he swore to his mother that he would never use again, but when he tried to open his mouth he began to taste the tea again. Grumbling, Abbey dragged him across the yard. His legs gave out on him and he fell to the ground, so she instead grabbed him by his foot and continued.Clawing at the ground, Lionel noticed something. The grass wasn’t green—it was blue, and rippled like the sea on a windy day. The sky was as dark as night, and the stars seemed to double in magnitude and population. The sun was no more, and the moon wasn’t to be found. The fence disappeared, dissolving into the ground like it was made of sand. When, still being dragged by Abbey, he turned to look at his small, one story home, he whimpered. It was gone, replaced by a glimmering lake.“What did you do?” Lionel yelled, the tears running down his face surprising him. Clearly exasperated, Abbey let go of his foot and sat on a chair that appeared out of thin air. She sat there like an annoyed parent, waiting for him to recover his senses. Staggering to his feet and wiping the snot from his nose, Lionel looked out around the horrifyingly beautiful landscaping around him.It appeared that he was in a small prairie, the borders surrounded by trees and hills. To the south sat the lake—though he wasn’t really sure if it was south. Past the lake, on a hill sat a picturesque village, complete with a storybook-castle behind it. Trying to pull himself together, Lionel dusted the mud from his jeans. Turning back to Abbey, he took a deep breath.“Finished?” She asked. He nodded, not trusting himself to not throw up yet. “Marvelous. Then I suggest we be on our way—I promised my mother I would be home for dinner.”Leading the way, Abbey led a flabbergasted Lionel past the lake and towards the village. Owls cried out from the trees, wolves howling in the distance. Lionel had moved past panic, and was filled with awe at the scenery around him. “What is this place?” Abbey shrugged. “Aren’t you going to tell me anything?” Lionel begged, trying to clear the whine from his voice. “Why do you need to know?” Stammering, he couldn’t come up with an answer. Rolling her eyes, Abbey plucked a purple berry from a bush nearby, popping it into her mouth. She offered on to Lionel, but he just stared at her incredulously. “What?”“What if it is poisonous? My mother told me never to eat wild berries—”“Why would I offer it to you if it was poisonous? And more importantly, why would I have eaten one?”“I don’t know! You are clearly crazy, and probably couldn’t care less if we just died in the middle of who-knows-where!” Lionel shouted. She stared at him as he huffed angrily, making him feel like a child being scolded angrily by his mother.“I may be crazy, but I am not trying to get us killed. I was crazy to ever bring you here, crazy to ever believe you would be rational and calm about this.” Abbey paused, her face going slightly red from built up anger. “I have waited three years to bring you here, because I thought we would be friends. But since you clearly can’t handle it, we might as well go back. Besides, I am going to get in so much trouble for bringing you here, that I would probably never be allowed to go back to home anyway.” Pushing past Lionel, she stormed back the way they had come. He followed, his mind racing. Surely he could handle whatever this place had to throw at him—after all, he was a straight-A student.Racing ahead of her, he blocked her from going any further. He was confused when he saw she was smiling.“Why are you smiling?”“I knew it—you’re curious,” she said with a smirk. Lionel scowled, but she waved it off. Taking his hand in her own tiny one, she led him back toward the village.When they had reached it, Abbey led Lionel around to one of the alleyways between the stone homes. Peering cautiously around the corner, she deemed the streets safe for them to enter. But before they did, Abbey looked Lionel over skeptically."You can't be seen like this," she declared, holding up a sleeve of his dirty sweatshirt."Well, I would have changed had I known that I would be—""Hold your horses, no need to be salty. I was just saying that we don't dress the same way that you do." Eyeing him once more, Abbey gave him a new set of clothes."Where did you get—""Hurry up and change behind the corner, we don't have very long to get back." Obeying, Lionel changed into the new set of clothes, hiding his old ones in a tree nearby. The new clothes were...stiff. Unlike everything else in this place, the clothes weren’t extraordinary. He now wore khaki pants, and a crisp white dress shirt. He had expected...well, he didn’t know what he had expected. Certainly not something his mother made him wear to church. Returning to Abbey, he noticed that she, too, had changed. She now wore a simple blue dress, with a creamy scarf resting loosely around her head and shoulders. She was quite pretty.“You ready?” asked, though it was clear that she would be ready to leave no matter his answer. Nodding, he followed her out into the street. Street lamps lined the streets, their flames dancing in their cages. When they arrived at the place Abbey announced as her home, Lionel wiped the sweat from his brow. Walking into the warmly lit home, the smell of dinner awakened his senses. The sound of their entry alerting her family of their presence, they were soon greeted by the rest of her family members. She was only slightly scolded for being late, and was then immediately rushed to the dining table in the center of the home. Feeling slightly abandoned, Lionel remembered his manners and began to take his shoes off at the doorway. When he noticed her family members staring at him, he immediately regretted his decision. His face became hot, realizing that everybody kept their shoes on.“Who are you?” A woman, assumed to be Abbey’s mother, interrogated.“I, well, I’m—”“He’s a friend, Mima. From school,” Abbey interrupted, her eyes wide with prompting.“Yes—school. Where we learn. About planets. And, numbers,” he stammered, Abbey looking like she was going to strangle him. Her family remained suspicious, but it was clear that they were more concerned about the dinner on the table. Awkwardly sitting in the seat beside Abbey, he offered a polite thanks to her mother when he was dished a plate. After miming the words to an unfamiliar prayer, he began to cut off small pieces of the chicken on the plate.Abbey chatted idly with her siblings, all easily five to twenty years older than she. She glanced at him occasionally, but otherwise ignored him.Once dinner was over, and cleanup had begun, Abbey got permission from her mother to show him around their property. Glad to leave the busy environment, he found himself, once again, following Abbey outside.Her family owned a quaint farm, with horses grazing in a pasture. Lionel would have been content to do just as Abbey had told her parents they would do, but she had other plans. Instead of leading them towards the horses, she brought him past the pasture, over the hills, and out of view of the house.“Will you tell me where we are going?”“We are going to a friend’s.”“Your friend?”“Yes.”“Why?” He got no answer. Figures.Lionel’s legs began to cramp as they continued through the hills, but just when he was about to surrender his pride and ask to stop, they reached another street. This street was empty of houses, the only sign of life a puff of smoke rising from a small structure a mile away. The house looked too small to be inhabited. When they reached it, they were immediately greeted by a scraggly old woman. She raced out of the house, hobbling on her cane.“Abbigail. What have you done?” She accused, shoving them inside. Lionel cautiously looked around the house as the door was locked behind them. It was the size of a small bedroom, everything squished to one side of the room. Lionel was no interior decorator, but he thought that with a garage sale and a rearrangement of furniture would have been an improvement.The woman hurriedly marched around the crowded room concocting a batch of tea. Oh no.“Abbigail, you know the law. Why would you endanger yourself in this way? What about the life of this poor little boy?”“I’m not a little—”“I’m sorry, but please don't send him back. He can learn to fit in here, and the Kind needs to see that he isn't a threat.” Abbey pleaded, interrupting Lionel. “Please, Iza. We all know the law is unjust, and—”“No, Abigail. You will not tear this boy from his family, forcing him to a life of danger here. He isn’t ready, and you are not ready. You will not ruin this boy’s life, just because you feel lonely—”“I am not lonely!” Abbey interrupted once more. She seemed to be borderline tears, but Lionel had had enough. He was tired of being dragged around, literally and figuratively, and not knowing what was going on.“Stop! Just stop!” He shouted over the arguing. They both stared at him, wide-eyed. “Don’t I get a say in this? I have no idea where I am or how I got here.” He looked at Abbey. “I thought that you were only my neighbor, not some magical—” Once again, Lionel was interrupted. But this time, it wasn’t Abbey or Iza. A loud knock from the door vibrated through the whole house, but they never even got the chance to open it before it was knocked down. Officers stood at the door, deadly swords pointed at Lionel.“Abbey Wayward. You are under arrest for harboring an Earthen. You are to be detained until your trial.” The officer turned to Lionel. “You are sentenced to life imprisonment. It would be best to obey.” Lionel didn’t know what to do. Iza looked between the soldiers and Lionel, and shoved the tea she was making into his hands. “Drink the tea. Now,” She said, a determined look in her eyes. An officer pointed a sword towards her. “I am only giving him something to quench his thirst. Now leave—you have who you want,” Iza demanded, ordering them all out of her house in the same manner they were shoved in. Lionel made the quick-second decision and gulped the entire glass of tea. It tasted nothing like the bitter substance Abbey had given him, but was a sickening sweet. Obeying the officers, he was led out of the house. Abbey glared at the officers, but did the same.The trek towards the palace was miserable; Lionel’s feet ached, and the anxiety clutched him whenever he looked at the swords at their sides. When they arrived at the palace, he fought the sheer awe that began to sweep over him. The palace was easily the size of an entire city, with courtyards and streets built inside of its impenetrable walls. Once they reached the elaborate prison, he was chained inside one of the cells. Abbey was in the cell across from him, though instead of chains she only had a simple metal chain around her wrist, indicating her status as a prisoner. When they were left alone, with no guards outside of their cells, Lionel began to feel trapped. The walls seemed to close in on him, sucking the life out of him.“Stay calm, Lionel. The cell amplifies emotions, driving us to madness. You have no reason to worry—Iza gave you the tea to send you home. You’ll be leaving any moment now.” Abbey told him. He could hear the utter hopelessness in her voice. Tears streaked across her face. Lionel couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, but he knew she was right. He began to feel dizzy once more, his stomach in a whirlwind.“I’m sorry, Abbey. I’ll be back.” She only nodded, clearly not believing him. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself back at his dining table, in his house.He needed to go back.
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13,185
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Write a funny post-apocalyptic story.
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Put The Fun Back
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A new literary sub-genre is being born today, while you nap at your desk. It features larger-than-life, and often comical, characters having bizarro adventures after the end of the world.And the TV show Jericho is all about how the lucky Kansas town clings to domesticity in the face of the mass slaughter of half the United States. The show lingers lovingly over its characters' pristine kitchens and nice clothes, even as they indulge in the greatest luxury of all — petty soap-opera drama.
Call it "post-apocalyptic picaresque." Two of the most intriguing fall books fall into this category: Brian Slattery's Liberation, and Nick Harkaway's The Gone Away World. We talked to Slattery and Harkaway about putting the fun back into the post-apocalypse.
To be sure, there have been funny books about the apocalypse forever. Just look at Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Or the zombie/robot survival guides. Slattery also cites A Boy And His Dog, and the movie Hell Comes To Frogtown. Harkaway cites Neal Stephenson's Snow Crash: "That's definitely one. Post-collapse and funny as hell, just a little scary because it seems too plausible for comfort." Harkaway also mentions Don DeLillo's White Noise.
Says Slattery:
I was pretty inspired by the Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Men in Black take on apocalypses — that even though the very fate of the world hangs in the balance, they're sort of a dime a dozen and nothing to get all that upset about. And both of those were pretty mainstream things.
But with novels like The Road achieving mainstream acceptance, it definitely seems as though post-apocalyptic novels have room to expand and create some new niches for themselves, including comical ones. "I'm not sure that post-apocalyptic is a genre, exactly. It would be a very, very broad one," Harkaway says. But he does agree that that type of story has gotten more acceptance lately. "Perhaps it's more that the reaction to this kind of story is less knee-jerk now, and more people are taking them seriously since Cormac McCarthy wrote The Road."
And once you start writing more silly books about the apocalypse, it opens the door to satire. You can use the end of the world to poke fun at the ways the world is messed up today.
Says Harkaway:
In The Gone-Away World, I was definitely taking a few swings at the world we live in now. Not so much saying it's absurd as using absurdity to point out how awful it is, and how stupid. We really could make ourselves an apocalypse the way we're going, and we need to get it together. I believe our only hope is in being more human, in finding points of commonality and not, ever, allowing ourselves to be lazy. Peace is not a state of being, it's a constant action - like love.
Slattery says he set out to satirize the ridiculousness of our present-day world when he wrote Liberation, which portrays a massive economic collapse leading to the fall of the United States. It was just his weird luck that the events of his novel started appearing more realistic after it was published.
I'm not in the prediction business at all—that current events and the publication of Liberation converged as they did is really creepy and weird to me. When I wrote Liberation, economic collapse wasn't nearly as immediate a threat as it is now, and my intention was entirely to use it more as a tool for satire—to hold up a funhouse mirror to some of our more serious problems.
The other thing that jumps out at me about both Liberation and TGAW is that they're ultimately sort of hopeful stories. Not everybody dies in the apocalypse, because that wouldn't be much of a story. And they both end with a glimmer of hope that the survivors will be able to create some kind of a just society.
It's like I wrote ages ago: we don't consume post-apocalyptic stories to think about the end of everything. We consume them because we want to imagine surviving the worst disaster imaginable, both because that's intrinsically hopeful, and also because it would mean a simpler life.
Says Harkaway:
I agree entirely that post-apocalyptic stories can be hopeful - some of them aren't, because they're really about how the last of the population dies - and I think they're also attractive because they often promise a simpler life - one without mortgages or difficult choices about environment vs. consumerism. Mine, of course, isn't simpler; the people in TGAW are up against many of the same choices we are - including whether to sacrifice their fellows for their own convenience.
In both Liberation and TGAW, our heroes are rogues, rather than paragons of virtue. In Liberation, the story follows the members of the Slick Six, a colorful group of criminals (sort of) led by Marco, a ruthless killer. And in TGAW, the main survivors are a group of oddballs, including the somewhat demented Gonzo Lubitsch. Why is it more hopeful, or more interesting, to imagine such flawed characters surviving the end of the world?
"Everybody loves a rogue," says Harkaway. "They bring colour to otherwise very bleak situations. They return the human to a world which is otherwise alarmingly stark and humourless... Rogues offer hope - not just of survival, but of fun; the beginning of a new life, rather than just an endless series of hunter-gatherer actions to satisfy basic needs." But of course, Harkaway's characters become less rogueish and more heroic as the story goes on, in a progression he compares to Han Solo going from "smuggler to lover to general."
Also, Slattery says it was important to him to avoid any kind of utopianism or survival of the fittest in Liberation's post-collapse storyline:
A postapocalyptic story in which only the "best" people survive strikes me as kind of misanthropic and even carries the whiff of eugenics and genocide. (Thanks to Orwell and Huxley, who I read as an impressionable kid, I have a serious distrust of utopias because I always end up asking "Utopia for whom?") Because I really like people, I couldn't resist writing about as diverse a group of characters as I could.
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9,502
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Write a story about two people who meet and become instant friends.
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Real friends!
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In 2019, when I was in 5th grade, I was 11 years old. Everything was going just like a usual classroom is supposed to go.But at the start of mid-October, everything changed.Usually, when the teachers change our seats,we get worried who we are going to sit by,if we like that person,and stuff like that.But we all knew each other since second grade,when the school first started and we all came.None but the four new kids, Max, Lucy, Gwen, and Elena were worried.I got put next to a girl named Elena.As I am a very talkative person,we talked a lot,and before you knew it we felt like we had known each other since Kindergarten.We were best friends.We were the same height, liked the same things, we had almost identical personalities.The school curriculum consisted of foreign language,so we had to learn Latin.The teacher was Mr.Grimm.As I said,we all came in second grade, but Max came to the school in 4th grade, and hardly knew anyone.And then it just happened , somehow Elena and I had another friend named Max.We sat at the same lunch table,and played basketball together at recess.We had lots of fun together,and very soon, we were the most athletic,funny,and well liked in the class.We made the most boring classes enjoyable .Coincidentally Latin was the most boring class.So we decided, why not make a class clown club! Day by day our club grew, until it was almost the entire class.We had so much fun that we thought school was more fun than video games.Everything was going great.Well, everything except the teachers.Since our school focused a lot on virtues,the teachers gave out virtue sheets.My friends and I have detested virtue sheets since we got our first one. Virtue sheets are a bit annoying once you receive your fair share of them.The teacher writes what you did wrong, then you have to stay in for recess and write down how to prevent that from happening, how to fix it, and all that stuff.Yes, that’s pretty horrible, but is it as bad as this? Parents have to sign! I don’t know if you get my meaning, but that’s not exactly what I would call good.Parents signing means they have to read what you did wrong, which means they get you in trouble.You received a sheet for things like sticking out your tongue at someone.I mean that’s not really harmful, is it?All we did was crack a couple of jokes in class, and make people laugh.That did prevent the teachers from teaching, but I personally think they knew they were being a bit harsh by giving us virtue sheets for stuff like that. But harmful or not, we were more careful from that day on.Unfortunately,careful as we were,the flow of virtue sheets were still flowing steadily.The teachers clearly had developed a dislike for us.While we were the pranksters of the group, we were the most intelligent too. At least our teachers didn’t hate us completely, due to that fact.We helped the other kids with math, and with other subjects in our free time.Anyways during Latin we cracked the most jokes.Eventually, we got to choose our work groups.I don’t know why we were allowed that privilege, considering our class behavior.If we are put in groups with people that we know very well, we are prone to get distracted, and joke around,but if we are surrounded by unfamiliar people,we would probably stay on topic, and work on the task in front of us.Although we all knew very well that Mr.Grimm ,our Latin teacher ,was just trying to be nice, this of course led to the class thinking that Mr.Grimm was a bit crazy by letting us choose our own groups.And most unfortunately, just as I predicted, the classes behavior got worse.The following day we started to learn about the human body in science class.My friends and I were making jokes,of course appropriate ones.My teacher got very agitated, and e-mailed our parents, and assigned us extra homework on the human body chapter, to see if we learned anything, or not.She said if we didn’t receive a passing grade on our extra homework we would not be allowed to talk at all during class.We all worked really hard, and got a one hundred percent each, and tried as hard as we could to behave in class from then on.In the mean time our friendship kept growing stronger and stronger.Slowly, day after day, week after week, month after month our jokes were coming to a halt.We started to help Mr.Grimm control the class by not making jokes anymore.Since we were the leaders of the joke club and jokes, the class was easier for Mr.Grimm to control, and he liked us much more after that.We realized that helping the teachers is better than making jokes.We changed our joke club to an after school tutoring club, so that everyone can come and learn, or get help on stuff that they are confused on.This is a win and win situation, because we could help others, and at the same time we would be learning more ourselves.Then, one day, I had to take a test that is necessary to get admission in a gifted program at school. I passed with flying colors.At first I was delighted, but then it dawned on me that this would mean going to a different school.I would never see my friends again.I was crestfallen.I told my friends, and they had a similar reaction.It was very sad to leave each other.I said, in an attempt to cheer them up, that we can always call or have playdates, but they were still sad. The day of the 5th grade graduation finally came.We were all in gloomy spirit, until we saw something we love.Food.We ate a lot of food, and later, went into the room where the ceremony was to be held.We listened as the principal gave a speech, and the awards were handed out.We were zoning out until we heard our names.We had won the friendship award.We were delighted.We soon parted and went our own ways,but we didn’t forget each other, and we remain friends to this day!
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9,018
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Start your story with someone looking out at the snow, and end it with them stepping tentatively onto a frozen surface.
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Red winter.
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I looked outside through the window, it was snowing lightly. First snow of the year. I am talking about ten years ago when I was seven years old. That evening in the kitchen of our old house. I was standing on a cold tiled floor, with a regular kitchen knife in my blood stained hands.
Zeshan Masood, my best childhood friend was lying dead on the floor. He had been lying there for an hour, and I stood staring at his corpse the whole time.
It was me who killed him. But it was not on purpose. We were just playing a game - a stupid game! Zeshan usually came over my house to play after school. That evening when we reached home, we found a note from my mother, which said she was going out for a bit. It was Zeshan's idea to play a sword game. We had no swords in our house so we had to use kitchen knives instead. My parents always taught me not to play with dangerous things like hammer, needle, fire or anything which can hurt me or others. I knew that a knife could hurt people. But I had never known it could even kill a person. I was just a kid.
I was trembling like an autumn leaf. Maybe because I was terrified for what I had done, or maybe because it was freezing cold that evening. My mind could not think straight at all. I should have called someone for help. But my mother was out shopping with Zeshan's parents as the note we found said, and my father usually worked late on his job. Also I was afarid that I would be punished severely. The thought of police coming to arrest me also crossed my mind. I knew that prison was a scary place where scary people were kept together. That thought made me shiver with fear. So I did nothing when Zeshan was suffering in great agony - I saw his life slowly and excruciatingly fading away.
I watched my friend die.
That's when I heard the door open. I was so startled that I involuntarily took some steps back. My legs were very numb from standing on the cold floor for too long. I heard someone walking inside of the house and soon saw that it was my father. He had came home early from work that evening - after all it was my birthday. We were going to celebrate my birthday together with Zeshan's family. But I knew it was not possible anymore.
When my father entered the kitchen he completely froze when he saw blood spilled all over the floor. He saw Zeshan lying lifeless on the floor and me standing with a knife clasped in my fist. The birthday cake that my father had brought for me fell on the floor. Father ran towards me and knelt down to look at me face to face. He was looking dead worried.
"Noah. What happened here?" he asked me. I wanted to tell him that it was an accident, but words were getting stabbed in my throat. So I started to bawl my eyes out instead.
My father quickly turned towards Zeshan and checked his pulse. He trembled when he could not find any sign of life from the body. Then he saw the knife in my hand and quickly snatched it away from my hand.
"Noah, did you? Did you do this?" my father asked me desperately, but I couldn't reply, I kept on crying louder.
My father's face went white pale and he slowly took me in his warm embrace. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. We remained that way for few moments until suddenly my father said,
"Noah let's change your clothes."
He quickly took me to my room and made me take off my clothes. I was told to clean the blood on my face and hands. Father ran out with the blood stained clothes. When he returned the clothes were gone. He made me wear new clothes. I could feel his hands trembling wildly over my body.
Then suddenly the door bell rang. It made father jump! He quickly ran towards the window, discreetly looked outside and said, "It's your mother., and Zeshan's parents." I had never seen my father so terrified ever before until that evening.
Father ran towards me and picked me up. He took me to the back door of our house and opened it. A cold breeze of wind blew inside carrying some snow with it. Father carefully scanned his eyes outside and then he knelt down and told me,
"Noah, my dear son. I want you to go straight to your grandma's house. You can't go from the main road. The lake is frozen, so you can use it to get over to your grandma's house. But walk on it very carefully." he told me and I saw his eyes filled with tears.
" and, and when someone ask you about Zeshan..." he continued, " Tell them that you know nothing about his death. Tell them I send you to your grandma's house. You tell them you were at your grandma's house the whole time. Am I clear? What did I tell you?" he asked.
My father used to tell me, 'to lie is a great sin.' So I could not understand why he was telling me to lie so suddenly. I didn't reply, which made my father scream at me. "NOAH! TELL ME WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!"
"That I, I know nothing and, I was at grandma's house." I said.
My father then smiled at me. A tear rolled down his right cheek and he hugged me dearly. I could tell he was sad. Then he told me to get going. I ran towards the lake but stopped before setting my foot on it. The back door was already closed when I looked back. My heart just sank in my chest and I started to cry again.
I looked ahead and saw the frozen lake infront of me. After taking a deep breath I started to walk on the frozen lake tentatively.
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5,086
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Write a story about a scientist.
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Relative Dimensions In Space - Wednesday in Cambridge
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[Author's Note: After posting “Relative Dimensions In Space” I realised that I wanted to know more about Tim and Jane. If you have read “Relative Dimensions In Space” you will know some of how this will end. If you haven’t here is the backstory: After a quick background check and spending a day with her, Tim Westland, a Canadian high tech multibillionaire, has agreed to fund a research project proposed by Dr. Jane Seymour, a professor at the Centre for Applied Cosmology, University of Cambridge.]Tim was meeting Jane at Le Pain Quotidien in St. Pancras station for breakfast. She was taking the 8:28 from Kings Cross station, just across the street from St. Pancras, to Cambridge. The train would get her back to Cambridge in plenty of time for her Monday lecture. The five million dollars funding she had asked for her research wasn’t an issue for him. However, she had mentioned wanting to leave Cambridge and he had mentioned her doing the research at UVic, (University of Victoria). He wanted her to know that he would fund the research wherever she chose to do it.He was already seated and had ordered a coffee when he saw her striding down the concourse carrying a monogrammed Paravel Weekender bag. He smiled, ‘A bit of an environmentalist’ He tried to buy products made from recycled material and had his own set of Paravel luggage. ‘She really is quite attractive’. At 35, two years older than Tim, she might not have been most men’s idea of a beautiful woman. 5’ 10’’ with a slim build, short cropped hair she exuded a ‘Don’t mess with me.’ attitude that puts off most men. Tim wasn’t ‘most men’.Tim stood up as she entered the restaurant. She joined him with the waitress following close behind. With a quick glance at the menu “Le Pain Quotidien breakfast with tea and a croissant. . . . And, separate bills.”Tim tried not to show his surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time he had breakfast with someone and wasn’t expected to pick up the tab. “Baked eggs and coffee please.”“Did you talk to your friends at UVic?”“No, I wanted to talk to you first. . . . Are you sure you want to leave Cambridge? It is a big move - don’t think I am pressuring you to do your research at UVic. There are no conditions on the funding, I will still fund your research even if you want to stay at Cambridge.”Her tea arrived, Jane just stared at the teapot. Yesterday, after a day on the town and a few drinks, the idea of moving to Canada to do her research sounded appealing. This morning she wasn’t quite so sure. ‘It is a big move. I would like to leave Cambridge, but Victoria is a long way to go. . . . I wonder why he said he would fund the research even if I stayed in Cambridge?’ Jane had grown to mistrust men, especially men offering to help her in her career. Sometimes it was to make themselves ‘look good’ but more often it was for sex. There were already rumours that she had ‘slept’ her way into her present position. She knew if she suddenly got that much funding for her project the rumours would get worse. Finally, she looked up,“I think I need to go to Victoria and talk to the people at the university. I can get away for a few days next month. Could you set up a meeting with the department head?”Tim took out a business card and his pen. He wrote a name and phone number on the back.“This is the number for Dr. James Foster, the Chair of the UVIC Physics and Astronomy Department. I will tell him to expect your call. I will email him that you might be interested in doing research on time travel and why the Berkeley time travel experiments failed. . . . I am pretty sure they will offer to pay for your trip to Victoria for an interview.” ‘Especially if I reimburse them for the cost.’It was Jane’s turn to be surprised. ‘Why didn’t he ask me to stay at his place? He’s funding my research, surely he wants something in return. Could he really be as nice as the newspaper articles on Google said?’.Putting the card in her purse - “Time travel? . . . You don’t want him to know what I think really happened?”“Not for now. Is that a problem?”“No”“He’ll figure it out pretty fast. But, it will make a good cover story.” If her theory was correct, it had the potential to revolutionise space travel. Tim wanted to make sure he was the first one to take advantage of her discoveries.Their breakfasts arrived and the conversation changed to more mundane topics.By 8:10 they had paid their bills and started towards the Kings Cross station. Jane looked askance when Tim picked up her bag but didn’t say anything. It only took a few minutes to get to the Kings Cross station. They were saying good-bye in front of the ticket scanners. She put out her hand, he took it. Smiling, she asked “Have you ever been to Cambridge?”“No. A Rodes Scholar - so just the other place.”“Well, I won’t hold that against you. . . . I am not doing anything Wednesday afternoon, why don’t you come up to Cambridge and I will show you around?”Tim had a flight back to Victoria booked for Tuesday. “That sounds great. I will text you once I get there.”Giving his hand a slight squeeze as she released it she picked up her bag and went through the scanner to her train. ‘Have you ever been to Cambridge? . . . I wonder what he thought? . . . He is quite charming. . . . Not bad looking either. . . . Stop it, you’re acting like a schoolgirl.’ Tim decided to take a taxi back to the Taj Hotel. With all the traffic it took nearly a half hour for the trip. Tim couldn’t get her off his mind. ‘She was definitely flirting.’ Arriving at the hotel, the doorman gets the taxi door.“Good morning Frank”“Good morning Mr. Westland.” Frank smiled. Not many guests said good morning, even fewer remembered his name.Heading to the front desk “Good morning Alice.”“Good morning Mr. Westland”“Alice, I would like to extend my stay until next Monday.” ‘Might as well stay and take in a show on the weekend.’She checks her computer. “I am sorry Mr. Westland, all our Executive King rooms are booked through the weekend. I do have a Junior Suite that we could move you to.”“That will be fine.”“I can move you right away if that is alright.”“Yes, thank you. I just have to go up and get my laptop.”Alice processes the file, and writes down the new room number.“This is the new room number. Your key card will work on both rooms until 2:00pm, then just the suite. We will move everything except the items in the safe. You will have to move them yourself.”“Thank you Alice.”After changing into something more casual, picking up his laptop, and moving the items in his safe, Tim walked to Caffe Grana in the St James's Park Tube station. While the Taj had excellent coffee and even better service, he found the atmosphere too formal for ‘just a coffee’. At heart, he was still a small town boy going to Tims (Tim Horton's) for coffee.Finding a table, Tim emailed his PA ‘Never thought I would have a PA’ asking her to rebook his flight to Monday and cancel his breakfast meeting with the scholarship committee. ‘They can pay for their own breakfast for once.’ Another email went to Jim Foster telling him Jane would be calling and for him to offer to pay for her trip. Tim would reimburse all the costs.Then he booked himself in at the Hilton Cambridge for Wednesday night under the name ‘Tim Eastbrook’. He used the Tim Eastbrook nom de guerre whenever he wanted to get away without attracting attention. Finishing his coffee he decides to take a walk through St. James Park to Oxford Street. He didn’t want to take his suitcase with him for an overnight trip. There were lots of stores on Oxford Street where he could get a small backpack.Tim’s walk through St James park gave him time to think. His pace slowed and he finally found a bench. He started to go over the events of the last two days.‘I hardly know the woman yet I can’t get her out of my mind. Why did I enjoy spending yesterday with her so much? . . . We didn’t do anything I hadn’t done before.’ Slowly the truth began to dawn on him. ‘It wasn’t what we did - it was because we did it together. . . . I like my own company, I don’t mind going out on my own. Still, I did like having her with me. . . . Hell, I’m too old to be falling in love. . . . Was she really flirting with me? . . . Stop it. You are acting like a schoolboy.’It didn’t matter; he just knew he could hardly wait until Wednesday afternoon.About 10:30 on Wednesday morning Jane was heading to meet her PhD candidate when she got Tim’s text. 'Arrived early. Staying at the Hilton. Ask for Mr. Eastbrook.'She smiled to herself. ‘He’s a bit anxious. . . . I hope that is a good thing.’ She texts him back.'At Centre for Mathematical Sciences, 24 Wilberforce Road. Meet me in the lobby in 1 hour'The Department of Applied Mathematics and Theoretical Physics (DAMTP) at the Centre for Mathematical Sciences was not what most people envisioned as a Camgridge college. A mile from King’s College and on the opposite side on the River Cam, it is made up of a number of modernistic circular buildings around a central courtyard. It is in a rural area surrounded by farmers fields and housing estates. Jane’s own house, a small cottage, was a short walk away on Madingley Rd.Tim was on time - Jane met him at the door.Smiling - “Mr. Eastbrook I presume?”He smiles - “You would be surprised how many strange people come up to me and ask for money when I use my real name.”She laughs - that is how they met.She spent the next hour showing him around the centre, introducing him as Mr. Eastbrook, her friend from Canada, to her colleagues. They go back to her office. “Have you spoken to Dr. Foster yet?”“Yes - I talked to him last night. I will be in Victoria for a few days next month. You were right, he did offer to pay for the trip.” ‘Which I am sure you arranged.’Smiling “Let's get into town - I will show you the places the tourists aren’t allowed to see. . . . Taxi or walking?”“Walking”“Good, Madingley Road Kabob is along the way. They have the best kabobs in Cambridge.”Jane gets on her computer. “Can I order for you?”“Yes” He was alway ready for a new food experience.Signing off her computer - “Come on, they will be ready by the time we get there.” Tim has no idea what she has ordered or where they are going.They head down Wilberforce turning right on Madingley Rd. Trees line both sides of the road screening the large houses and apartments. Jane is setting a brisk pace “If we don’t hurry they will be cold by the time we get there.”Madingley Road Kabob turns out to be a food truck. Jane picks up her order of two kabob wraps. Handing one to Tim - “This is their ‘special wrap’, you’ll love it.” She was right.Walking much slower as they eat their kabobs, just getting to know each other. They wind up on ‘The Avenue’ a path leading to the Trinity College Bridge across the River Cam then to the rear entrance to Trinity College. After touring places in Trinity College most tourists don’t see, they go on to King’s College. Tim had a DPhil (equivalent to a PhD) in Economics from Oxford. Not too surprisingly, he wanted to see the Keynes Building; a part of King’s College not on any guided tour. After touring King's College and a quick tour of Queen’s College, at about three o’clock, they found themselves having a pint on the terrace of ‘The Anchor’, a pub overlooking the River Cam by the Silver Street Bridge.Tim spotted the punt rental on the other side of the bridge. He had had a job giving tourists punting tours of the Cherwell when he was in college. It was also a way to impress young ladies. He was looking for a way to impress Jane.“Let’s rent a punt.”Jane smiled “OK” ‘It has been a long time since anyone asked me to go punting on the Cam’Finishing their beer and crossing the bridge Tim rents a boat from Cambridge Chauffeur Punts. The attendant, a man in his late fifties who has run the business for the last twenty years, asks if Tim needs instructions on using the punt.“No - I have done this before” The attendant looks at Jane, she nods in recognition and smiles. ‘If Jane trusts him it is good enough for me’Tim quickly finds punting on the Cam is much different than the Cherwell. The mud at the bottom of the river is thicker and ‘stickier’ than on the Cherwell. Tim was having trouble keeping the pole from sticking in the mud. Jane gives a running commentary on the history of each of the landmarks. She is smiling and looking at him as if anticipating some disaster. On the way back down the Cam, within sight of the dock, disaster struck. Tim pushed the pole in too deep, the pole was stuck in the mud. To keep from falling into the river Tim had let go of the pole which now stuck out of the river like a silver channel marker. The punt drifted just out of reach of the pole; Tim scrambled to find the paddle that had come with the rental; Jane was laughing so hard tears came to her eyes. Another punt, seeing the problem, retrieves their pole and passes it to them. Before Tim can react, Jane kicks off her pumps, hops up onto the deck at the rear of the punt and takes the pole.Tim sits down in amazement as she straightens out the punt, which had turned sideways in the river, and starts heading back to the dock. As she approaches the dock she can see the attendant is laughing. ‘She could alway handle the punt better than any of the boys I hired.’ Tim was not the only one to have a job taking tourists on punting trips.By the time they get back to ‘The Anchor’ Tim has overcome his embarrassment and is laughing at the situation. After a few more drinks they decide a college ‘pub crawl’ is in order. At about 7:30 and after only a few pubs, they decide to leave ‘pub crawls’ to the younger crowd. Winding up the day with dinner at ‘The Stolen’ pub.Tim calls for a taxi and they drive back to her house, arranging to meet for breakfast at the Hilton at 8:30 the next morning. Telling the cabbie to wait, Tim walks her to her door. As they get to the door, she pulls him close, kisses him then whispers -“You can always stay here tonight.”Tim holds her close for a few seconds then reluctantly steps back.“See you tomorrow for breakfast” He takes the taxi back to his hotel.She just stands there watching him leave. ‘Bastard!’ Embarrassed, she doesn’t know if she is angrier at herself or at him.It is 9:00, Tim is in the restaurant nursing his third coffee. ‘She isn’t coming. . . . I did the right thing. How do I fix it?’Jane storms in and sits across from him. She waves the waitress away, she isn’t going to stay long, she just needs to know one thing -“Why”Tim struggles to find the right words.“We have only known each other a few days and I really like you. . . . I can’t get you out of my mind. You are unlike any other woman I have ever known, smart, confident and absolutely gorgeous. But . . . ” ‘Christ - he is going to say he is married.’ “we were both pretty drunk last night, I didn’t want to take the chance you would regret it in the morning. . . . Believe me, leaving was one of the hardest things I have ever done.”‘Christ - that is part of the lecture on sexual consent the college requires every new student to take. He is right, I was acting like a drunken schoolgirl. How could I have been so stupid?’Slowly she smiles and reaches across the table and puts her hand on his.“I am not drunk now. . . . Do you really have to go back to London today?”He shakes his head. “No”“Come over at six. . . . I will make dinner. . . . We’ll see what happens.”
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14,806
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Write a story involving a character who cannot return home.
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Requiem Aeternam
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“It’s pretty late, I understand that, and if–”
“Don’t think anything of it.” Dr. Kendall Liu, in her dark jacket, turned the key in its suitable lock and swung the squat door open. The half-light and spittle from the street marinated the small table, bedight in dust and a basket of decorative fruit, and chairs lined up in a row against the wall. Dr. Liu, with barely a sound, ascended the carpeted steps to her office and waved her hand, “C’mon,” for the young man behind her to follow.
“Come on up. We’ll talk.”
Dr. Liu thought of offering tea but she knew Gabe’s manner of thinking. Wouldn’t want to be a bother, he would retort. I’m already inconveniencing you enough as it is. And if he didn’t say it, he would think it, in the way that Gabriel allowed unspoken words to be tied up in knots and painted in blood as with a haphazard scalpel.
Gabriel took the stairs two at a time. He was in a hurry. Dr. Liu opened the door to her office, thin like a chapel but lofty like a cathedral. There were three lamps in the room, one on top of a bookshelf, one at her desk, and another on a small table next to the chair where the patients sat. She turned all of them on. There was a small, compact clock on the table which might have been mistaken for a decorative rock. The time read 10:57 PM.
“Nearly eleven o’clock already. Holy cow.” Gabriel ran his hand over his thin, brown hair.
“Just take a seat,” Liu said, as kindly as she could.
Gabriel nearly began pacing as though this were not his psychiatrist’s office at all. His movements were very manic; even when he had sat down, his forefinger grazed over the leather of the seat.
“Now, what did you want to talk about?”
He pursed his lips and started tapping his foot. He had something important to say, drastically important, and arranged extraordinary conditions under which he might say it. Yet now, with the familiar lighting of Dr. Liu’s office and the window showing off the coal blackness outside from which he had just come, he could not say it; it was too strange, too unknown to say it, something he could only ruminate on in an abandoned warehouse or in his lonely bed.
“Gabe, you can tell me.” He was surprised that some hint of irritation had not manifested itself yet. Hell, Gabe was more irritated with himself for demanding this of her than she was actually doing it.
Mute, Gabriel shifted in his seat. He crossed his right leg over his left but immediately was uncomfortable and so crossed his left over his right.
He knew he could never say it otherwise, so he blurted out: “My father called me tonight.”
Liu’s eyes widened.
Gabe looked away, just as he made sure to never look himself in the mirror in the mornings.
“I see. And what did he say?”
“No, no. I didn’t answer the call.” Let me make one thing clear!
“Oh. Ok. So, w-when did he call you?”
“About forty-five minutes ago.”
Dr. Liu’s eyes jumped to the little clock and she did some quick math in her head.
“Is he alright?”
“How the hell should I know? I didn’t answer the call.”
Obviously.
Kendall Liu then spoke the only words that seemed sensible, if only as a catalyst for conversation: “What can I do to help?”
“Nothin’.” And Gabe looked out the window in despair and his eyes were orange in the light of the lamps.
“How long has it been since you last spoke to your father?”
“Let’s see. It was probably about-two years now. Closer to two and a half but–”
“What went through your mind when the call came through?”
“Well, I was uncomfortable.”
Liu nodded kindly.
“I-I haven’t talked to him for so long, ever since Lyle died.”
Kendall was quiet, subtle and silent.
“Yah, it’s been a really long time,” Gabe said, with an air of breathiness in his timbre. “Long time.”
“What was your first reaction when the phone started ringing?”
“I didn’t answer, for starters.” He and Dr. Liu nodded simultaneously.
“Just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
Gabe swirled his hand around in the air, catching dragonflies of thoughts.
“It’s just-I couldn’t do it. I know I... I couldn’t. It would be wrong.”
Her ears perked up.
“What would be wrong?”
Gabe’s eyes seemed threatened.
“I dunno, answering his call.” He shrugged.
“Why?” She was not demanding.
Gabe turned away from her, looking out the window.
“It just would be. What would I say?”
“Did you think of anything to say?”
He hummed under his breath. She let him breathe.
“You called me about twenty minutes ago. So, what did you do between when he called you and when you called me?”
“I just, uh, kind of sat there.” In the tone of a professor or an agent being debriefed. “I was shocked.”
“This shock-did it make you want to do anything?”
His eyes danced from the carpet to the window back to faithful Dr. Liu.
“Run away.” Gabriel was being brave and his inhibition was melting like makeup in rain.
“Run away,” she affirmed. “And run where? Here?”
“No.” He was gripping the arm rests with white knuckles. “Not here. I didn’t even know where I wanted to run to. I just-I just didn’t want to be there.” He stopped for a breath. “I wanted to be anywhere else.”
“Did any place stand out in your mind where you wanted to go? Amongst all the places other than ‘there’?” Liu’s gaze, incisive yet serene in the same instant, flashed across the small room.
“Yah.” Like a little boy caught in a lie.
“Where?” It was almost whispered.
A magazine on Dr. Liu’s bookshelf distracted Gabe briefly, but he snapped out of it. There had been a question. The way the light bounced off Dr. Liu’s glasses, that was something to note. Something sinister was crawling up Gabe’s throat. He didn’t want to be obvious and turn the clock around, but he began to calculate what the time was. He had been here about ten minutes, and when he had walked into the office–
Did Dr. Liu always come so dressed up to emergency sessions in the middle of the night?
She waited patiently, knowing the response would come when Gabe was ready. She was touching upon something.
“I wanted to go to Lyle’s grave.” His voice was not quivering and neither was his chin.
“Did you?”
“No.” He sounded disappointed in himself. “No, I didn’t. I sat there for a few minutes ripping the hair out of my head and gnashing my teeth and then I came here.” He made eye contact again.
“What made you want to go to Lyle’s grave?”
He had a response but he was forced to speak it through a thick, stained glass window of melancholy in his throat. “I wanted to say I was sorry.” Tears welled up in his eyes and he looked at his lap.
“Sorry to Lyle?”
“Yah.” He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand and prayed that there were no more. More composed, he continued, “Just (he was grasping for it) to tell Lyle how I’m sorry that I caused his death.”
“Gabe.” With enough poignancy and heart in that name alone to stop a speeding train. “You did not cause Lyle’s death.”
“Well,” he stopped to steady himself. “I was the one who didn’t look.”
“They ran a red light, Gabe. That’s not your fault.”
“He was too young to be in the front seat anyway.” Frantically wiping away tears with the sleeve of his shirt.
Kendall Liu persisted, “That’s no reason to beat yourself up like this.”
“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Anger and desperation, flashes of color without tact or vulnerability. “Just sit there and grieve? Tell my mom and dad that it was a total freak accident that took Lyle away? Their little boy? Oh God...”
Gabe collapsed under the weight. Kendall Liu wheeled her chair over to his and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. Low sobs came, muffled, followed by a piercing note as Gabe allowed himself to feel all the guilt and unnamed sadness fill up his eye sockets and a gaping hole in his chest. He fell quiet after that, though, drifting like a burnt piece of paper into a gust or like the darkness descending on the final shot of a movie.
“Gabe, that was not your fault.”
(Without looking at her, still bent over) “Yes, it was. And I can’t face my mom and dad now because of it.”
Another note.
“God,” Gabe sighed more than spoke. “Why did this have to happen? I didn’t deserve this.” But he hastily added, “No, it’s not that I didn’t deserve it: Lyle didn’t. Lyle didn’t deserve it.” He choked out the final words.
“Gabe, Ga-abe. You’re right-you didn’t deserve this. You don’t deserve this.” Dr. Liu insisted.
“It was my fault. It was my fault.”
Dr. Liu abruptly stood up from her chair, without taking her hand from Gabe’s shoulder, and directed it so that it faced opposite his chair.
“This was not your fault. And I’m not saying this to calm you down: I’m saying it because I need you to know it. It was not your fault. And you don’t deserve to be miserable.”
He didn’t respond.
“Could I have you try something?” He looked up and saw the chair but made no comment.
Kendall Liu explained: “I want you to pretend that your father is sitting in this chair. And talk to him and tell him what you would say.” But she was nearly crushed by the grimace of pain and closed, watery eyes that contorted Gabe’s face.
“No. I can’t.”
“You wanted to answer the phone, didn’t you?” She was pressing the issue. “And that’s alright. You want to have a relationship with your dad. And your dad wants to have a relationship with you.”
Her heart broke just imagining the tortured voice of Gabriel’s father leaving a message, “Hey Gabe, it’s your dad. (A sigh) I was just, uh, thinkin’ about ya tonight and (pausing to itch his nose to distract him from tears), well, I, uh, just wanted to tell ya I love ya and that I would really want to talk with ya sometime. Yaknow, ‘cause it’s been a while. I don’t want to shut ya out; you’re my son. I love ya, Gabe. I love ya, I love ya, I love ya.”
“If you have nothing to say to your dad, then that’s fine. But if you do, wouldn’t you want to tell him?”
Eyes slowly opening, Gabe spotted the chair again through the blurred telescope of his vision.
“Anything you want to say.”
And this is what Gabe said:
“Dad, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did. I can barely live with myself, knowing what happened was my fault. You and Mom losing your little boy and I didn’t...”
Dr. Liu was impressed with his emotion but knew there was something beneath it. She stepped back to allow him to be alone with his father and plain before himself.
“Dad, I wanna see you again! I miss ya; I miss Mom! I miss those old times we used to have! I miss, god, all those fun times we had. All the laughing and the dinners and the games and the fun, with you and me and mom and Lyle! But that’s all I can see! All I can see is Lyle! When I think of ya, Dad, I think how much I’ve disappointed ya and I see Lyle. Every good thing that happens to me, any joy I get, I feel guilty about; I don’t deserve to be happy! Not after what I did! But I can’t live being this sad, this unhappy! God, I’m miserable. I’m at the lowest point; this is absolute zero. I’m like a cup that’s poured out; I’m empty, Dad. I’m empty. When I go to that sandwich shop and work all day, I hate it. I hate it but I think, ‘Lyle’s dead so you work in this dingy little shop.’ And when I can’t pay my bills, I wish I were dead. But that’s not fair to Lyle either!”
Wails of agony absorbed themselves into the soft upholstery. Gabe didn’t look at the clock, for he was fixed in a moment in time, at an intersection in St. Paul where the light had just turned green.
“I wanted to answer your call, I did! (He broke down again; he imagined delivering this soliloquy while crawling over the carpet of the family house, on hands and knees) I really did. I really wanted to answer your call. I wanted to come over and have spaghetti with you and Mom, and we could just laugh together and cry together and BE together again. But I can’t! I have to go to Lyle’s grave instead, because that’s where I belong! That’s where I belong!”
He fell out of his chair and lamented, slapping his clenched fist against the floor. With each heavy hammer smash, driving a nail into the cross, Gabe screamed through clenched teeth, “That’s! Where I! Belong!”
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2,636
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Write a story about a rumor making its way through the grapevine.
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Return of The Exiled
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A long, long, long time ago when the world was still young, and people trusted their hearts more than their minds, when proof from your eyes was not needed to make something the truth, there was a kingdom, a King, a Royal Advisor who was not listened to as often as he wished, and an enemy the King made for himself. Our tale begins with a rumor, and an argument. " Your Majesty there is a rumor that she will come." "She will not come." " But your Majesty, she would not have allowed the rumor to reach us without a purpose. " " She would not dare to come. After I forbid her to? After I exiled her? No she would not dare. "" Your Majesty... " The Royal Advisor sighed. Why did the King have to exile her? He was feared yes, but she was more so. If he did not fear her, why did he exile her? Not that she obeyed. Not 3 months after he exiled her, she took away a serf. The Royal Advisor wouldn't have heard of the death of one serf, in a fairly large and prosperous Kingdom, but he had placed orders for any sight of her to be reported. She would do what the King forbid her to. Forbidding her, rather than hindering her probably invited her. It will happen soon. A war with her equals death. You cannot fight death. " Enough of this, I will now eat. Inform Percival. " " Yes, Your Majesty " The Royal Advisor sighed again. He exited the court room, and informed the King's attendant that His Majesty wished to eat. Percival ran to inform the Kitchen, and The Royal Advisor went to his bedchamber to reflect. The King was arrogant, foolish, and hot tempered. He was stubborn, and the Royal Advisor could do nothing but advise. The King had many faults, but he was not evil. He had a good heart underneath his mule- like brain. He had a good Advisor, a good General, and they helped refine his rule. His death was not awaited. His heirs were young. It would not be the best thing for the country were he to die. The Queen was wiser than her husband, but also more delicate. Should he die, she might as well. A person who was not of royal blood could not serve as a surrogate ruler. And again, the King wasn't an evil ruler, and his death was not welcome. Especially not from his Advisor of many years, who had been with the king through the good and bad times of the King, and the Kingdom. The Advisor hoped she would not come. The sun set, and the moon rose. The torches were lit, and then the most were put out. The torches in the King's other bedchamber were lit. He could not sleep, and to avoid waking the Queen he told his attendant to light the torches, fetch him some custard, and call the Royal Advisor. Percival made haste, and soon the Royal Advisor appeared. The King did not specifically mention why he had been called. The King just sat and talked about kingdom matters already discussed , and ate his custard. The Royal Advisor listened. When the moon rose to the middle of the sky, a hush fell. The fire in the torch stopped flickering, and lay stiller than fire did. The leaves on the Elder tree outside stopped quivering, and lay stiller than leaves did. The Advisor glanced fearfully around. The King however was beyond that, and stared dead ahead. The Advisor turned and he shivered, for he saw her. She only revealed herself to interact with someone. Well, then, atleast he would die with his King. She spoke. It was leaves falling, and wind blowing, thunder booming, and waves crashing. " You exiled me, but when it is time it is time. You can not stop me. You should not have tried. " She moved closer. Her cloak rustled. It was no colour, but it was all colour. The colour of glowing embers, the colour of a flooding river, the colour of a burning field, the colour of a toadstool. " You -King cannot fight me. Warriors, and warlocks cannot fight me. People fear me. Some seek me. The wise, and content do neither. " She came closer and the Royal Advisor could smell her. It was tears that you cry when you come into this world, and tears of the woman from whom you came, tears that you cry when words fail, of joy, and fear, and rage. " You challenged me, King. That was unwise. You do not challenge Death. Walls, and guards, wealth, and legions, do not stop me. The pious, the sinner, the poor, the rich, the noble, the common, the extrordinary,the ordinary, I take all. You are not wise. However, it is not your time.You are not evil, and this arrogance of yours does not enrage me. I feel your apology, and I forgive you." She smiled, and it was the sun, on your forehead, the wind in your hair, the air in your blood, and life in your soul. She said " Let this be a lesson to you, pride does not bear roses, but thorns. You should also learn to cool your anger before it burns you. You are noble, and people love you for it. Heed the advice of people wiser than you- it will make you more of a King. She turned to look at the Royal Advisor and gave him a smile that made her look human. The wryness of it was something familiar. " You are wise, I allowed you to witness my meeting with your King because you need to share your wisdom with the King more often, I feel he will be more receptive to it in the future, so share your thoughts more freely. And then the Elder tree's leaves quivered once more, the fire in the torch flickered once more, and Death with a smile left, and took no one with her. She left only a memory, and a lesson, and took nothing........................... except the custard.
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5,759
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Write a romance that involves one partner saving the other from a fire.
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SAVING FIRE
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SAVING FIRE Watching Lydia toss and turn in a restless sleep, Chase Elliot had not left her side since he pulled her from the fire. As her mother, I feared she might not be able to recover from the intensive burns and injuries she sustained. Chase fell asleep in the hospital recliner, murmuring unintelligible words reliving the rescue. I looked out the hospital window into the vast starless sky. The darkness seemed to envelop us in this foreign unknown territory uncertain of what the outcome might be. Leaving the room, I walked to the nurses station to ask for an extra blanket. I brought the blanket to the room, spread it over Chase's sleeping form. Next I kissed my daughter on her forehead, whispering words of love in her ear. For right now, I needed to reflect on God’s word and the comfort it would bring. Dawn ushered in the new day, I pondered what to do step by step. This morning the doctor would make his rounds and inform us of Lydia ‘s condition. Chase and I waited for the doctor and the only sounds in her room was the machine helping her to breathe easier. The first talk, Lydia was heavily sedated and this is the news we received. Lydia's burns extended to second degree burns to her neck, head, and right arm. This type of burn affects both the epidermis and the second layer of skin called the dermis. It may cause swelling and red, white or splotchy skin. Blisters may develop, and pain can be severe. Deep second degree burns can cause scarring. The doctor recommended a treatment plan of laser scar treatment, skin grafts, and reconstructive surgery could involve months to complete. Lydia and Chase had broken up a month before this vicious assault occurred. Lydia was very quiet about the break-up simply stating she realized just in time they were too different from each other. Lydia had met a new man, I hadn’t even met him yet. This was their second date, on the first date they had gone to see a play at the theatre on campus at the college they both attended. On the second date, they went out to eat at a restaurant that Lydia had chosen. The restaurant was Outback Steakhouse, and Lydia was wearing a little black dress, accessorized with a gold chain belt to emphasize her small waistline. She had gone to the hair salon, choosing a shorter cut and color, ash blonde for a new look. Lydia walked to the bathroom in the restaurant, her date accused her with flirting with an admirer. Unexpectedly, from behind he poured gasoline all over her when they reached his car. Chase watched from the parking lot and took action. Now in this present time, the first thing you noticed when you looked at her was the ugly purple skin on her neck and above that matted hair, in need of washing and untangling. Lydia and Chase found their way back to each other, through a lot of laughter and tears whenever I stepped out of the hospital room briefly. Often both Chase and I would be there in the weeks in the hospital and the burn center as an inpatient. At times Chase would go home to his Mom and Dad's for a rest, shower, and meal before returning as we started to relax a bit. I went to our home, it was lonely without Lydia beside me. Our dog, Toby a blonde cocker spaniel was so sad at home that I took him over to my sister's house for playdates with her collie dog, Queenie. Most days Chase or I would take turns walking with Lydia down the hallway. Holding the IV pole and fluids, Lydia seemed to gain strength each day. Losing some friends along the way, Lydia drew to us for strength as I sought strength from God and my Sunday school class from church. A day arrived quite unexpectedly that transported Valerie from our neighborhood and on our street. She had called Lydia to ask if she could come visit. The treatments were coming to a close: the reconstructive surgery was complete, skin grafts were complete, and the laser scar treatments were halfway through. The visit went well, and Lydia looked forward to her discharge from the burn center. The doctor had been pleased with Lydia's progress. Treatments, the doctor spoke of for a couple of weeks in outpatient therapy. Lydia and Valerie poured through wedding magazines planning an intimate private ceremony. Valerie was asked to be the maid of honor and Chase’s brother Josh was asked to be the best man. Mrs. Elliot and I shared conversations for the upcoming wedding. In our latest conversation, she said we are going to be family, call me Gayle. Lydia was determined not to hide away and isolate herself due to this unfortunate circumstance. On the day of the wedding, a deacon from my home church escorted Lydia down the aisle. The delicately designed veil covered the burn on her head. The neckline of her wedding dress was heart shaped, exposing the burn on her neck, a small amount of scarring. More scarring was on her right arm not visible to the eye. She looked absolutely radiant, reminding me of when I married her father. The war in Iraq took him from us forever. Lydia was a baby when her father died, has no conscious memory of him. Memories I share are all from my loyal heart, she deserves that much from me. Lydia begins the journey of a lifetime with the love of her life by her side. Chase’s Uncle Bob has loaned him his Studebaker from his car collection. Ridgefield’s Country Club has packed an abundantly full picnic basket perfect for a drive in the country. In the basket is a small decorated box full of well wishes from the intimate party of wedding guests. All of us touched by this sad circumstance has come through the fire tried and true. Showing strength, courage, endurance to persevere in adverse conditions. You learn who your friends are and who they are not. Lydia learned of the faithfulness of a lifetime companion. Saving fire burning away the dross and stubble, leaving only fine gold and silver.
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4,471
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Write a romance that involves one partner saving the other from a fire.
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SELFLESS Love
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Hi I'm Sen Rane. This is my first day of final year high school. I'm going to Riley's home to pick her up and then we two will be off to school. Oops sorry, you guys don't know Riley right?!!!!!
Riley Hide is my girlfriend. We have been together since three years. The funny thing about us was we were crushing on each other for almost two years. We both were shocked to here that we had crush on eachother. Well this might be the Destiny or fate people call!!.
Now I'm at Riley's home, she's gonna be out any minute now.
There she is, she looks stunning whenever she wears a simple touchup and light coloured dresses. I love her the way she dresses herself and flaunts her shoulder length hair. I like playing with her hair all the time, when we are together.
'Heyyyy Riley'
Riley - Hii Sen, good morning.
Me- 'Good morning my love.'
Riley - 'aww I love you too baby. Don't say me you forgot about today's event?!!! Did you get the costume?!!'
Me- 'Uhh yeah u know the costume was already in the car. I do remember!'
Riley - 'oh yeahhh.... I was expecting this exact answer from you. You just forget things.' 'Okay, let's go, don't want to be late.'
Me - 'yep...'
At school:___
Friend 1 - 'Sen you are almost late, next is the best of today's event.'
Me- 'hey come on when did I came late. Haha'
Friend 2(girl) - 'look whose talking, heyyy Riley, morning baby.'
Riley - 'morning, okay now stop and let's go get the seats in front. I wanna enjoy this.'
Meanwhile in the a small room in the event hall there were two gas cylinders (might be used for the event on the show list).
A student who was unaware of cylinders present in the room came and there were candles present at a side table. He started lighting the candles. Then he went for some clothes present around he took two pieces of clothing, kept in the table and went outside.
Its been 5 mins, the candles were melting and some wax was sticking on to the clothe pieces on the table.
After another 5 minutes, the show Riley was waiting to watch has been started.
The boy who kept the clothe and candles, came back and he was searching for something in the room(may be for the event). He was searching everywhere, he was actually messing with all the things in the room and was misplacing the things in the room. Finally, he stopped and he took a small box and went outside.
During his clumsy search, he made a bottle role on the table. Well that was an accidental slip.
The bottle rolled to the candle stand and fell down by the cylinders making the cylinder lid open with the fall.
The gas was slowly releasing from the cylinder. The candle wax on the cloth caught fire and the cloth fell down with the bottle.
The fire was slowly extinguishing.(but we have gas leakage though)
Meanwhile in the event hall, Sen with Riley and group of friends were totally immersed in the show they were watching (they are having their wonderful time though).
The door to the room where accident was literally yet to go big, was opened and there came a bottle flying into the room and BOOOMMMM.....
what happened?!!!!
Welk the cylinders got blasted because of fire.
Everyone out in the hall got shocked by the sound and before they could know what actually was happening, the curtains were on fire and the room door and a part of wooden wall was broke off making the small wood flying in every direction due to the blow. Every thing in the hall turned in to a mess. Students were panicked and started rushing towards the door.
There was big sound BAMMMMM. Sen came to his senses and watched that a wooden pillar got stumbled and fell onto the floor making THUDDD.
He saw Riley panicking on the other side of the hall and was in tears. He couldn't stop the emotion he was having at that exact time.
His love, his life(Riley) was in danger and a distance away from him.
He started rushing towards her and was crying above his pitch --'RILEY, I'M Right Here. I'M COMING TO YOU. PLEASE DON'T BE FRIGHTENED.'
The hall became a mess, students were running out. The school came to know about the situation happening, fire fighters and emergency helpers came at the site.
But Riley and Sen were still in the hall.
While there were discussions going on the outside about the details and origin. Some helpers were trying to get inside and save the life's. On the inside, Sen was tightly holding onto Riley. Riley became a mess, well she is a very sensitive person, so obviously she was shocked with the whole fire thing going on.
Sen was continuously saying - 'Riley I'm here. Nothing's gonna happen to us.'
They needed help, time was running out, fire strength was increasing, the temperature was increasing to an extent where u couldn't hold anymore, smoke was raising and it was becoming so hard to breath now.
Sen was looking everywhere to find an exit.
Suddenly he saw an axe and a glass window. He tried to open the window, but the window was locked and all of a sudden he took the axe and thrown towards window. The glass shattered and there came a way to escape. He asked Riley to go out first with his help. Riley was crying and asking him to go together. The window was somewhat small and couldn't fit two people at once.
Seb assured Riley- 'you go fast, I'm right next to you.'
He kissed on her forehead and she made it fast and kept her legs outside from the window and made a jump. She landed safely( the window was 8 meters above from the ground though). She was calling out for Sen - ' Sen make it fast. Jump down. '
Riley was crying her heart out and praying God that Sen's gonna be out any moment now and keep him safe. She was in tears as their was no reply from Sen. She got panicked and was so worrying.
Then suddenly there was a large sound 'BAAAMMM' from inside the hall.
Riley got frightened about Sen who was still not out and fell unconscious to the ground due to shock.
Sen jumped down from window (well he saw friend 1 lying on the floor at a 2 meter distance, so he went to save him) followed by friend 1.
Rescuing team came and rushed them to first aid.
Sen got a few severe injuries due to fire.
Riley was also injured to some extent and due to fall she sprained her ankle.
A doctor came and Riley woke from unconsciousness shouting SEN.
And crying.
Sen took her into his arms and was speaking into her ears saying- 'SHHHH,.. THERE THERE EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT. IM RIGHT HERE. RILEY. I LOVE YOU.'
Riley on realising that Sen was alright and she was hearing him say while holding her. She was crying and said while hugging him ---'I LOVE YOU SEN. I THOUGHT I WOULD NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU.'
The event ended in tragedy and with god's grace everyone was safe.
They experienced near death and realised that they love each other with their lifes.
Love gives a great inner strength where people keep their loved once safe before themselves. Every person deserves love and every person needs it.
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13,235
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Create a title with our Title Generator, then write a story inspired by it.
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SEVENTY AND FRISKY
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The telephone rings. “Hello Sharon just letting you know I’m no longer with Troy these past few months he’s been very difficult to be with as he’s looking for a spring chicken to have sex with and perhaps a baby at seventy.I don’t know how he will go since I kicked him out and blocked him on Facebook,” Melanie said. “So, he wants to have a baby at the age of seventy that would be very inconsiderate for any child that he bears especially when Caucasian men who were born in 1949 only have a life span of 80 years, that would give him and the child a mere ten years together, Sharon said. “We had numerous arguments over it.” “Well, how the hell are you supposed to accommodate him these days?” “I can’t, his brain is all over the place a real idiot I tell you.”“Maybe dementia is setting in,” Sharon stated“Never thought of that but maybe,” Melanie stated.“Well, when people start having dementia, they start to think of babies goodness knows why but that seems to be part of dementia setting in,” Sharon said“He changed when he started on a new insulin injection but dementia makes more sense so I thought it was the insulin changing his behaviour,” Melanie said.“It’s probably best that you both stay apart as you don’t need to be looking after someone with dementia at your age,” Sharon said with a sigh.“This is what Troy said to me the other day, “I believe men of my age who have sex with younger women is disgusting, however, the last time I looked it’s my honest opinion is that the reason for a women’s existence is to have babies, and that’s why I am frisky,” Melanie said.“Oh, Melanie we both know in our old age the whole purpose of a woman on this planet these days is to do what they want not what men want and if they want, they can bear children whether that is by the natural method of intercourse or by IVF facilities and bring them up as lone mothers or in a nuclear familyenvironment if they so please, Sharon said.“He’s gone nuts, in the end, I found him hard to talk to, maybe he has dementia and not frisky at seventy after all,” Melanie said.“I have to go Melanie I have an appointment with the hairdresser in thirty minutes chat later take care sweetie. Love ya, sis.” Sharon said.Telephone Rings, “Hey Troy how is it going?” Phillip said. “Well as you know by now Melanie has kicked me out she reckons because I desire a baby at my age and I am going nuts, but I have no children so I would like to leave a child on this planet before I depart,” Troy said. “I told you many years ago that Melanie was going to cause you trouble in later years, that’s why I liked her sister Sharon better, Sharon and I haven’t any real problems whatsoever, we get on like two peas in a pod,” Phillip said.“Well, that might be so, however, Melanie and I have several arguments over me wanting a baby, and I know damn well that she can’t give me one at her age, and I don’t want to get into the cot with some twenty-year-old girl, that is revolting to Me,” Troy said.“Age isn’t a consideration these days within reason as long as the two people love one another whether they are heterosexual or LGBTQ, Sharon, reckons that you have dementia and are going crazy, especially because you want to have a child at your age,” Phillip said. “I don’t have dementia it's just that as you know I was a virgin until I was fifty-five and didn’t entertain a sex drive as I was too busy running my catering business seven days a week fourteen-hour days,” Troy said.“Yeah, well I didn’t have a life that bad but being a train driver (Engineer in the USA) did take its toll on me as you know I ended up getting pretty unfit to the point that my sex drive with Sharon became a non-event, especially after I received the pacemaker to get my heart pumping properly and just as well trainshave automatic brakes as I didn’t know that I had passed out while driving the train, and being a one-man train driver system that we have the train controller (Dispatcher in the USA) tried for a few minutes to contact me after the train had stopped, anyway, Troy have you ever thought about donating to the IVF clinics,that way you will be able to leave many a child on planet earth after you have gone,” Phillip said. “I have considered everything Phillip, even going to a massage parlour where the girls offer more than the usual back and leg rubs, you know for a few more dollars they can relieve you of your sexual frustration but that’s not going to bear me a child,” Troy said.“Well unless you can find someone who is willing to bear you a child you may be leaving the world childless, or maybe you could get a surrogate mother to have your child?” Phillip said with excitement.“That will cost me dollars, and with this damn covid pandemic going on throughout the world I may never see the child or get back home if I leave the country,” Troy said with a small teardrop escalating down his left cheek.“Yeah, I suppose that idea has major complications as well,” Phillip said.“Well, I don’t know what I should do, I booked an appointment to see a female psychiatrist to see what her opinion would be in regards to me being seventy and frisky and wanting a child,” Toy said.“Phillip your dinner is on the table and who the hell are you talking to?” Sharon yelled from the kitchen area.“I’m talking to me brother Troy, about his predicament which the man has you know wanting a baby at seventy years of age have to go, bro, the missus has called me for dinner, stay safe love ya bro,” Phillip said. END
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1,553
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You thought he was dead, but there he is, right in front of you on the street, smiling at you.
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SOULMATE - the one you met...
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Heaven unlocked the high; perfect ray of sunshine on her cherry cheeks; her smile flowing off the speed of mercury. Not so perfectly dressed - the short, small, cute “little monster"; as her roommate called her; was ready to conquer her share of happiness. A winter jacket borrowed from a “friend” - well, she hated calling people “friends”, for reasons acceptable! And her century old running shoes, if only she could afford the boots! $100 was like a fortune for her. The thick, brown hair, long enough to tie up an entire human under its flow; she kept it open for the most part. Jumping over three steps at a time, she headed towards her kingdom. The timeworn, ugly looking building - a shopping centre, with good food, but pale service - as she entered, suddenly felt known (facts: she was at the same place a week ago, reasons differ). It almost felt like walking towards an aisle to her. She paced towards her destination, leaps of four now. But just when it was near, she barely managed to crawl. With her heartbeat running a marathon and eyes like that on an investigation, she was thrilled by her vision. She was excited for what waited. Her friends, on the other hand, were miffed - she literally was talking about it for the past whole week and they wanted to unveil the curtain...Her vision had never been so perfect. There he was - helping a customer, so engrossed to forget about the world. But maybe it was something in the air, he turned, like he knew exactly what was waiting on him at the back and he could no longer concentrate. The monster, on the other hand, was clear on her motives, like always. She promised to show her friends the best looking man they’d ever known - a good chance for her to see the beauty again, but from a distance. The last thing she’d want was to get noticed by him. But nothing ever in her life went as planned...A dress store, which didn’t have anything good for her, except the fact that it offered a great look of the charm, from a visible distance (the monster didn’t like to mention her glasses). The scent from his perfume shop distracted her while she was patiently trying to browse through the clothes, trying to not look like a stalker. Clearly her friends understood her obsession now. And just when she thought she’ll have a final look at him and leave, he waved. He waved at her. She, not knowing how to react, but still conscious, waved back. He said something, but it was like a voice too far. She certainly didn’t do that on purpose; his charisma was definitely blinding. After trying so hard to stay focused, all she could hear was him asking her to go closer (he literally performed to convey that). And maybe, it was again something in the air, she started walking towards him. The existence of her companions, was like mentioning a shadow to her. She could barely think of them. With violins in the background, flowers under her feet, just as dramatic as she thought it would be, she could feel the end nearing her soul. Those fifteen steps seemed like a lifetime to her. Her walk was normal, heart racing again, eyes fixed on the harbour and the beauty of her smile intact. Everything seemed to blur except the honour of his gorgeous eyes. As her outlook grew bigger, she gave herself freedom to adore the glamour in front of her. Tall - almost about 6 ft, black eyes, thick dark beard, a mole on his left cheek, perfectly done hair. There he was, so close, yet at a distance. Wearing a red-black shirt, blue jeans, brown boots. Perfection! There was something in his eyes, but his lips kept distracting her. It gave her an urge to ignore the world (which she already did) and dive deep into the taste of him. It gave her butterflies - the first time ever, she felt the magic from her novels...Avoiding the fantasies, the matter of wonder for her was that he called her by her name. The monster was astonished with pleasure. She no longer felt like a stalker; he remembered her. On the other hand, a line of shame covered her face; she had to write his name down this time, so she won’t forget it. It all started with him asking about her day and life in the new city and it went on... They talked about everything. The guy was good, in ways which made the monster keen to listen to every word that came out of his mouth. He sounded interesting, or maybe, he got pretty lips, that helped her keep focused or look like she was!Soothing - the moment, the talk, the everything. It felt to her like years passed since they knew each other. But just when they were deciding on their happily ever after - her friends came and she realized how short the time was. It was time for a goodbye. As her steps started parting away, the butterflies returned. The smile brighter than before. The heart calmer than it ever was. She knew something had changed inside her - forever. And just when that thought travelled in her mind, she knew exactly what it meant. The monster finally started believing in “forever”. And with her soul dancing to the rhythm she never knew about, she realized that she found that which she was not looking for - her Mate! Unconscious, unaware - their little escape from the world, as he called it. No wonders, no blunders, just the two of them, in their kingdom. She knew, in the moment, even if one day he’d leave; even if one evening it will all be different, it will still be there, forever...Home...That where you can always return, that which is eternal, that which is never gone...She found her SOULMATE! The one who gave her lifetime of happiness and million days of memories. She will always remember him, as the one who knew her. She no longer needed to note his name, it was engraved, deep in her soul; somewhere where the terror of her insecurities didn’t exist, somewhere she felt safe. And maybe it was something in the air again, just when that thought ran in her mind, she turned back...with tears in her eyes and flooding emotions, the memorial in the shop had the same picture she took on their second meet, he looked perfect... Love,Manisha.
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8,861
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Write about a character preparing a meal for somebody else.
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See you at the end of the world.
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Tw: Suicide attempt, Self harm,Pills
*Grandma Bel's Pov*
Sitting on my wooden chair, eating the meals my granddaughter Ellie cooked for me, was the best way of waiting for the day. My sickness came two years ago since then I can see how she puts a fake smile. Every time I look in her eyes, a big wave of sadness fills the empty room. She tries hard to look happy, but I know she is not. Her parents left her to me ten year ago ,because they couldn't afford having a kid.
''Grandma, look what I prepared for you. It is your favorite.''- she said with a flickering voice.
She putted the plate on the mini table in my bed. After my last collapsing, I could not walk or sit. Her voice felt empty, full of regret and worry. I did not have much time left... All I wanted was for her to relax and be happy.
Weeks went as the harsh and cold winter came. Els cooked me pork chops with mushroom sauce. The sauce like it was from heaven, creamy, fresh, and rich on flavor, the meat was soft and warm. I ate. Went to sleep. The window was half opened, and I was thinking about my long life. For all the years I couldn't have the chance to follow my dream. I wanted to have a coffee, where everyone can read books and just relax. My body felt cold, my pulse was getting lower within every second. My eyes were closed, all I could hear someone saying something, but it was quite.
See you at the end of the world,honey. I saw her beautiful face one last time, she was crying....
*Ellie's Pov*
Two years ago, the doctors told us that grandma Bel' is really sick. My fifteen years old self started work so I could help with the bills for the pills and the other things. My love for cooking started back then, I was good, and I conditioned with practicing so I can have my own restaurant one day. My grades went down because I was too busy with grandma... As the times passed, I couldn't sleep, my tears were breaking from my eyes every time I saw her. Her skin was getting paler, her blue eyes became grey, the flowers in the garden were dead. Most of the rooms were half empty. After her last collapsing, her conditions got worse.
''I wanted to talk to you, because...the tests did not show anything good.''- the doctor told me.
''What do you mean by that?''
''She has two months or even one."
In the moment he said this my soul left, tears were falling. I couldn't say a word. Grabbed my jacket and bag and went to my grandma's room. Her eyes were like stars. She herself was my sun, my light, my hope.
It was December 11th. I cooked her pork chops with mushroom sauce. We talked a little. After that I opened a little the window and kissed her forehead. The moment I went to my room I started crying. Her hair was white, and her lips were sour. She couldn't really talk. Hour later I went to her room, she was not there anymore. Just a body. Nothing else. Cold air. Darkness. I fell on the ground. The lines on my hands absorbed all the tears.
Bel's funeral came. I do not know what happened to me. My mental health was bad, I failed my finals and the school year. I had to repeat the year and like this my nineteen years of living were. The doctors gave me anti-depressants and other drugs. My life became worse after I started with them.
Day by day. Pill after pill. I was a living body, with a dead soul in it. Most of the times I was somewhere else, not in this reality, somewhere where everything I desire was real. I wanted to disappear, to end it all. I did not have much money, most of them went for the pills and the college I was in. I do not know how I got there maybe because I looked helpless. The only place I felt good was where my grandma was.
*Haru's Pov*
Two weeks ago, my brother died in a car crash. He was the only person who could understand me. The ten years difference we had was nothing. Our mother left when I was five years old, and our father took care for us. Soon after that he started drinking, he abused me and when I was fifteen my brother took me to live with him. He had a daughter and a wife since last year. But now the little girl will not see him, and he will not see her growing up.
I hate showing emotions, but this time I couldn't stop myself.
One day I was on heading to his grave, when I saw this girl. She was sitting next to the grave next to my brother's, she was with blue jeans, vans, grey hoodie, and her black hair was on a messy bun.
''I am sorry for your lose""- I said. Then she turn to me with a face of someone struggling, her green eyes looked tired.
''I am sorry for yours. I have not seen you around. Must be hard for you"- she said with this sweet but sad voice.
''My brother...he died two weeks ago''
''My grandma she died three years ago"
''You come here often?"
''Yes. Anyways I have to go."
''I am Haru"
''Day? Beautiful name. I am Ellie. Nice to meet you!" -then she walked out.
From her voice I knew that something was off. I could see the scars on her heart and body
*Ellie's Pov*
I went to her grave again, it was warm outside, it smelled nice and like the beautiful spring. Her favorite season. I took the bus and put my headphones with music on a full volume.
I sat next to the grave, looking at her black-white photo. I putted new, fresh flowers. Her favorites.
''Happy birthday'' - and I lighted the candle.
I was sitting and I was listening to the nature.
''I am sorry for your lose"- Deep voice I kind of could feel something comforting in this man's voice, also he had accent. I turned and in front of me a tall, Asian boy with black hair, black hoodie, and cargo pants with converse. He looked sweet and nice. His name was Haru.
I remember my neighbor where my mom lived was had the same name. He gave me food five times. I wonder what happened to him, since he was the only person who knew about my abusive and alcoholic mother.
I walked home. Took my pills and just went to sleep, since this was the only escape from living.
Me and Haru started to meet often and with the time passing we become close. He was the only person who understands me. He became my only friend, many people looked at me down because of my conditions.
Two years went by, I had to meet up with my mother. She was in prison for robbing a food shop. This day was one of the worst days. My mental health become worse. I had the worst depression episode, so I had to take stronger pills.
*Haru's Pov*
The past weeks I saw Ellie's pills, those were new ones. Something was off, the feeling become even harder when she randomly called me at 2:06 a.m. When I picked, I just heard a little "help". I rushed to her place. When I opened the door, she was laying down.
''ELLIE''
"Haru....I ...I can't...move."
''What did you do"
"I had...I couldn't sleep. I had a panic attack. So...I... I. Please help me"- she was crying. I got her in my car. Before that I saw her pills and a cup of water.
The next day when she woke up.
''I am sorry. I had a panic attack, so I drank my pills, but I it was my third dose for the day, and I think I had more than two."
"Hey, it's fine. Look let's live together. I want to be there for you. I know that I cannot help you, I do not really know how you feel. But I do not want to lose you, you are the only person...who I will... Please.''
''Let's live together."
*Ellie's Pov*
After I graduated, I started working in a restaurant. It was great. Me and Haru started dating after a while. I did not need the drugs that much. I overdosed with them three times. After the last time year ago. When I tried to end it all. I saw Bell, she told me to keep living so I can achieve the dreams and be happy. She told me that she is watching me and is proud of me.
A long journey. I changed my life and found a true happiness.
Me thirty-one years old, I have family, mine and my grandma's dream came true.
It was a normal day, I was coming back from work. I was on the big road, driving, vibing, when this car crashed in me. My legs were stuck. My eyes couldn't open. Everything around me was in noises, sirens. Someone took me off the car.
''Hello. Do you know what day we are?"
Someone said this and opened my eyes. It was cold. My head was floating...I opened my eyes. A bridge, the sky was full of stars. It was a day, the air was fresh. Someone was holding my hand.
"Let's go to eat some lunch"- grandma? I turned it was her. An angel, my sun, my hope. She was smiling. ''It's been a while, honey''
''Where are we?"
"We are where everything ends. End of the world. Here you have everything you want."
********************
She smiled and started cooking pasta for her grandchild. Ellie was free from all the sadness. She was happier there.
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1,856
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Write a story about characters going on a summer road trip.
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Seeking Redemption
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Sensitive subject : Michaela finished packing, the SUV almost ready now, as the sun rose to a warm glow of pink hues on that July day. The day she would go back. She'd been debating on a road trip anyway, it has been awhile since she went away. Work, her boyfriend Nicholas,who was a young ambitious lawyer in political affairs. Their relationship had been a journey to say the least, the ups and downs, building the trust that took time, and patience, as well as the therapy she had to endure. Nothing was easy. It was her way to persevere what had happened in her past. That dark period where she'd decided wasn't going to ruin her forever. However, there were still loose ends, that were too powerful to ignore now. And as much as she loved Nick, this trip was the necessary piece of her past that she needed to set right. She made sure her top storage was secure, tightened the straps. It was going to be a good drive. From the Canadian border to the US, back to Wisconsin. So many years, she had graduated from college and began her career as an RN at the Medical Centre in Toronto. She had other reasons for not wanting to go home again."Ok, got everything ready? Are you sure your going to be okay, I mean it's been a long time." Nicholas looked down at her petite frame, there in body, but her mind, well.......a thousand miles away already. Her heart was leadened with memories. Her mind swimming with emotions, it was time."Yes, I am fine, my mom is dying, I have to go back, Cassie will be there and Jack too, I won't be alone with him" The emphasis hard on the last word."It can't be easy after all this time. He's old now, what? 87, 88? I wonder if he even remembers." Nicholas did not want to sound emphatic in any way."I dont care if he does or if he doesn't. I dealt with his bullshit all my life, I will deal with it now. My mom is on her deathbed, I have to pay respects. Besides, the road trip will be fun too." She wore her big floppy old leather hat. She'd hand beaded a band in various colors, with tiny little seed beads, and it looked perfect. Her life had been anything but perfect, unlike those little beads on her hat. To Michaela, they represented happiness. "I will text or call when ever I stop?" She kissed him."And you come right home if you feel uncomfortable in any way." He made her promise that.NicholasNicholas worried about her. What she had to deal with as a child was beyond imagineable, the horrors of what that monster had done to her. The years of therapy, and tears, comforting her when she felt badly. He loved her to the moon and back, would stop at nothing to protect her. He was going to marry her. But now, his surprise proposal would have to wait. The small diamond engagement ring hid in his drawer, now was not the timing."We should take a trip to Paris, someday soon, maybe next Spring." He'd suggested, as she got in the driver's seat, pulling the seatbelt in and around her shoulders."Ahhh, yeah, Paris sounds awesome, always been a dream to go. Let's do it." She promised. That would be awhile away yet, she had other things on her agenda. "I am going to hold you to that. You know I will, we can stay in Montpetit, and have wine and cheese in the cafe's" He breathed as he spoke so softly, dreaming of the two of them. Nicholas was such a die hard romantic, one of the many reasons she loved him so much. "And walk under the moonlight in Lourdes." She continued cheerfully. She then climbed into the driver's seat, and blew the horn on the van, backing out of the driveway, and later nearing the border.***** Wisconsin, years earlier - Esther "Mom, I can't stay, I have to go, don't cry, I will be okay." She'd had her bags packed. Her stepfather had left town on a business trip, she had just turned 16 and had enough. She never confronted her mother, she'd been too afraid after he'd threatened her. Too many years the hate that built up inside her, she buried it like a dog a bone, fervously deep into the dirty soil in the ground. "You don't have to go, we both love you so much." Her mother pleaded, Esther had nowhere to go, he provided for them both. "Mom, I will stay in touch, tell Cass I love her." And the tears had fallen, the salty drops on her cheeks staining her face. Her mom was weak, as a mother and as a protector of her children, but she was her mom. Michaela hated her for years too, for letting things happen. But Esther had nowhere else to go, she would never face the truth of what really was going on. Making it easier to escape........also for the hate to build up, and the guilt at leaving her sister behind. ***** Cassandra Cassie, her younger sister, had now married and stayed on in Wisconsin. As Michaela drove down the paths of paved highways, she was not sure what she was going to find, as far as that went, she hadn't even spoken to Cassie ever since she'd left. Once she was gone, she'd arranged a stay in Canada, taken on a new life, with her French cousins. She just told them she wanted to become bilingual, and get a degree in nursing in Canada. The secrets had stayed buried. She'd prayed for all these years he would not do what he did to her to Cassie, sweet and innocent. But, as the paths of darkness grew into desperation, if she hadn't left she would have killed him.****The drive had been uneventful. Of which she was grateful, the weather was fine as she crossed the Thousand Islands Bridge. By nightfall, she was tired and hungry. She got a room at a small roadside motel, checked in, ordered room service. After a shower and food, she lay down, listening to the crickets outside."Yes, that would be fine, oh and a glass of red?" A burger platter and a glass of wine, she would sleep. Then the dreams, always the shadows of something around her, casting her into a hole, like a dead fish in a bucket, as she would cry out. Always trying to escape, dissolve away but not going anywhere but THERE. That fear choking her, sweat on the back of her neck and face, dripping relentlessy like the fear that hung. She got up, took a shower. It was four am. She made coffee in the coffee pot the room provided, placing the packet into the canister, pouring a bottle of water into it and switching it on. The red light glowed, the hissing sound promising hot liquid, the scent of caffeine steam coming out.Outside, the fireflies buzzed, like little sparkles in the darkness of night, so cute she mused, like little teeny lights in the sky. A spider then crawled along the window. She watched it, its legs scurrying and hanging onto the glass. Somehow, the spider made her feel better. Maybe it lived just to survive, it knew fear, but felt no fear, only its DNA giving it the mechanisms it needed to escape or search for food. She laughed. 'If only us humans could just live on DNA, wouldnt that be boss.' she thought. Her fingers rubbing the windowsill, in sync with her thoughts then, the old paint chips scratched off it in flakes. She brushed her hands off, lay back down on the bed, checked her phone for any more messages.*****Early the next morning, after a fitful sleep, she'd grabbed a fried egg sandwhich and a "real" coffee from the diner once it opened at six am. A few truckers already beginning to pulling in, blaring their horns. One man, as he got out, looked like he started to stride towards her, and stared. A little too long for her liking. She looked away, and quickly got into her SUV. The small hand gun was in the glove compartment. When she started college, she had taken a gun course and got her firearms, plus some self defense with the police department. Never again would she ever let a man paw her, touch her, handle her in any way whatsoever. And she thought of Cassie again, the little baby girl she'd left, what choice did she have? She could not endure the abuse, not one more minute. She'd been dying herself, her whole being for life had been taken from her. But now, this was the one thing that she could never forgive herself for, maybe she could set things right. And as she got back onto the road, that hole, down deep inside her heart, pushed her into going home.****Another day, she would be there. Michaela texted and spoke with Nicholas, still worried, who knew the depths of her plight. He had tried to talk her out of it. He didnt want her to go and face that hell again, but - at the same time, he knew she had to find out about Cassie. And it was time to face him too, the monster.Michaela was one of the kindest souls he knew, why he fell in love with her in the first place. He also accepted her past, her fate that had not been any choice of her own to be had, who would? She would have cut her right arm off to not have had that happen, she ran, and couldnt take the little baby sister with her.****Edward He would have found them, and killed them both, or she would have killed him instead. No good would have come of her staying there, after the abuse that went on behind her mother's ignorant eyes. Esther's health had been failing for years, her mind always wandering, maybe she knew, she probably did. Always watching her, touching her, never letting her grow up into a young lady. Having been abused by his own mother, Edward was damaged goods. But he provided for them, her mother never worked, weak and fragile she had been. Edward courted her and then he moved into their house, taking control. What a scenario for him!! How convenient to find a delicate woman and her two little girls, alone, her real father having been killed in a car accident after Cassie had been born. He paid the bills, put food on the table. And so much more.........**** They usually knew. Nicholas pounded his fist on the table in their living room, as he stood, looking at pics on the fireplace mantel. Their pictures, the few years they had been together since they met. She had turned into such an amazing, caring and sensitive human being. Someone with dark circumstances, and a past she had learned to hide. She never stopped thinking about her sister. Of course, there were the times when she thought, that maybe, she was left unscathed, that he only wanted her. But, Michaela highly doubted that. It was not as if Cassie had ever tried to reach out to her either. She had only found out about her mother's health after speaking to an old childhood friend on social media, in private. Kristen found her out and sent her a message. It had been a fluke encounter, maybe it was Karma.****"Why don't you just call? It might give you a rest of mind and soul." Nicholas would say."I...I can't, she must hate me for leaving her there. I abandoned her." Michaela never stopped the tears of shame, and fear, of what might have happened to her sister."You had no other choice, we all do things we regret in life, yes yours is not the usual circumstances, but it's not your fault either. She may have been okay. You won't know until you make the call.""No, I can't take the chance of him finding me. I never want to see him again." Michaela would always end debate. She'd been broken. But now, her journey was about love, and forgiveness, she would go and see for herself. It was the only way she would ever be free from a past that empowered her every being.**** Now, here she was. Back at her childhoold home. The rose bushes were in full bloom, their colors warm and welcoming in front of the house. The bird feeders were abundant with seeds, those little red ones with sugar water for the hummingbirds, sat on the veranda above the roses. The scene that stood before her posted a perfect house, serene and pleasant. Ironic how life just continued on, in a small mid-western town. The morning was hot and still, not a breeze stirred in the air. She parked her van in the driveway, and she could see that her sister was already there. Michaela watched as the shadows from behind the shears moved, from where she stood. Fighting the panic that wanted to overtake her, Michaela stood back. But then, very slowly, she then walked up to the house, and knocked on the door......THE END
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5,287
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Write about someone who decides it’s time to cut ties with a family member.
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Silver Spoons and Silver Linings
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“No, dad, this isn’t right! I do not feel comfortable doing this.” I hollered as my father sitting next to me begged me to take him to get his next fix. “Please, Alice, I don’t want to get sick.” responded the desperate and frail man riding along. The winding backroads seemed to roll on forever as he directed me where to go. Once there, he quickly jumped out and went to do what he believed he had to do. Dad had always had a drug problem. It was when I was four years old that he reappeared back into my life. It was after he had taken off to the west coast to chase the dragon, chase the rainbow, or whatever it was that made him decide to leave. Either way, he had introduced me to an environment that left me wondering what made drugs so fascinating that he would rather choose them over being a father to me. By the time he returned from California, the drug of choice was crack, which is freebased cocaine. The first time I saw both crack and a drug deal were watching my dad from the living room make his exchange from his bedroom window. Now you know he had to inspect it. I do not think he would have done much if he would have gotten shorted. Fast forward 13 years later, and I had become a mother and a wife. On the other hand, my dad was recovering from a work accident of falling 3 stories from a tree he was cutting down. I suspect he would not have lived if it had not been for the gazebo breaking his fall. He crushed both of his wrists, including his right eye socket. He also developed a small brain hemorrhage. He spent several nights in ICU. It had become a running joke with him and the family of calling dad superman. That was just the beginning of a whole other type of demon that would clutch its evil hands around his throat. I cannot imagine the type of pain one would go through having titanium steel rods for wrists. Yet, that was exactly what my father ended up with. The opiates were forthcoming initially, but it did not take long before he would be spotted in the ER in severe pain. In truth, I felt it was my responsibility to help my dad get proper insurance and into pain management appointments. We talked about it several times, but he never had the paperwork needed to move forward in the processes. Eventually, dad had to seek alternative means to assist with both his pain and dysfunctions. I had not known how deep into the pits dad had fallen until he came to stay with me temporarily. I needed his help financially, and he was still up in the trees like the crazy person he was, cutting them down and making his money. The day I discovered a syringe in his boot when the rumors I had heard were an actual reality. I was livid! My son was right at that age where he would try on big shoes and walk in them. Of course, I let him feel my wrath about the situation, but it is not like he became instantly sober or anything. Still, trying to steer him in the right direction was not the actual issue. It was the drug heroin itself that was the one murdering my dad slowly. Herion runs a similar effect as opiates do, only it's much cheaper than pharmaceutical and easier to obtain in the streets. The shakes and chills are what broke me up the most at that time. Often heroin addicts will express such symptoms including, excessive purging of the stomach. Cleaning up his puke was not exactly my idea of family bonding. Finally, everything came crashing down. I could not live under the pressure of living with my father and the rest of the drama that ensued within that house. We all went on our separate ways. The only time I would hear from my dad was when he needed a ride to pick up dope. I usually did not know until after I would pick him up. It was awful each time. “Dad, I am not doing this anymore. I will not continue to act as an enabler to this any longer. Do not ask me for things like this ever again.” I said to him as we pulled away from what was technically a crime scene. “I know Alice, I know. I cannot help it. It's so hard.” he pouted out with that voice he used when he felt helpless. After I dropped him off to do the deed, we did not speak again. That is until I saw him with one of his tree mates. Just skin and bones I had seen from the truck that pulled next to me as we waited for the light to change. They were turning left; I was going right. It was summer because the sun was hot, and the windows were down. I looked over, and I could never forget the frame of his face regardless of his weight. “Hey, there, dad!” I shouted over. “Hey, kiddo!” he shouted back. Then the light turned green. Even though he was an addict, he was still my dad, and I still had love for him. I mean, he had my name tattooed on his upper arm; how could I not? I knew he, too loved me regardless. A lot of insight I was able to see eventually how he thought I was better without him because he knew he had deadly habits. Yeah, I can catch on to that reasoning. He felt chained to the vice, and it weighed him down. Guilt kept him away all my life. That day was the last time I saw or spoken to him before receiving the call; he had been hospitalized. It was a staph infection located right in his heart. Within 6 days, his kidneys shut down, and the doctors said his lungs looked like swiss cheese. If he happened to survive the infection's removal, his life would be incorporated with an oxygen tank and regular dialysis treatments. If you had not guessed, my dad was a chain smoker too. It was a somber moment for my family and me that day when we all had to sit in a semicircle with the chief doctor in front of us. We all knew that he would not want to live in the new conditions he would have to face if he happened to survive the surgery. So, we had to make that tough choice and take him off life support. He would have wanted it that way. I was not present when they pulled the plug; I knew I would not have been able to process the situation lightly. He died two hours afterward when the last person left the room. That was the last time I had to be struck down with the choice to cut ties with my father. I know what his potential once was and his strengths because I live them out daily. I pass forward his advice of “safety first!” or “hope for the best but expect the worst.” In the end, I know he did not enjoy how his lifestyle caused so much pain to both my family and me. I also suspect he hated himself more for enjoying it so much. Many others out there have experienced the pain of having a family member suffering from addiction. I believe I can speak for others who have had similar experiences like myself. Our loved ones would have been better off chasing silver linings instead of silver spoons.
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2,647
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Write a romance that involves one partner saving the other from a fire.
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Standing Room
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"Hey kid, want to earn some money?" The man asking looks like a wealthy foreigner; nice clothes, shoes, well fed and groomed. I'm short and thin, barefoot and wearing ragged discards. At seventeen, I am often mistaken for twelve, because I have never had a day when I ate enough to keep my stomach from feeling empty."What work and how much?""Ten taka to carry a message. No peeking at it.""How far?" Sometimes they want you to take things across the border. I won't go there for less than two thousand. It's twelve days on foot. Each way."Coffee house called Rest Easy, about two kilometers."He doesn't need to point. Rest Easy is well known as a den for opium smugglers. The message might be a ploy to position me for a grab. Three hoods got a ten-year-old boy about a month back and sold him to a brothel. Sodomy may be a mortal sin, but it pays well."Pay now." I'm no fool. Even if this is a real try to hide something from the police, they'll take the paper and tell me to scram after. He hands me a piece of paper folded and taped closed, then a ten taka note. I fold the bill and shove it inside my only intact pocket. Then I run off. Most people meander along the crowded dirt paths inside the camp. I know all the routes, so I can avoid the worst spots and run instead.Rounding a corner too close, I clip a plastic basket of beans. An old man, around forty, stands and yells, "Damned hooligan. Come back here and pay."But I'm too far past by then. He'll never catch me- he's too slow. I drop to a jog when I pass the line for medical treatment. Only one place to get care, so it's always a pain, but Rest Easy is close by. That's why the doctors and nurses go there for coffee when they take a break.Rounding another corner, I slip in mud. Somebody threw out wash water here instead of taking a bucket to the edge of camp. I keep the message clean, then make it to the coffee shop. Two names on the paper. I call over the murmur of the crowd, "Bu Lu?""Bu Joh?" A man pushes through. Another rich man, but older. He has gray in his beard, but not his hair. I wait, hoping for another easy message. The crowd is big enough he can't haul me away. He finishes the message and leans close. "Would you like to make a lot of money, young man?""I carry messages. Nothing illegal.""I want you to join the army.""Too young." I always play it this way. Nobody wants us in the real army. Means he's ARSA."The jihad waits for nothing." He sounds sincere."Show me where you got shot." I stare into his eyes. "Be the example. Walk the walk."He slaps me. Someone sees and rushes over. I can tell how this will go. So I run out, but just at the door, someone grabs me and shoves me to the ground. I hear the rich man saying. "He came up with some story about his sick grandmother. I offered to take her to a clinic in Saudi Arabia, but then I felt his hand inside my jacket. He's a pickpocket."They might stone me for being a thief. Then someone else speaks. Her accent is thick. "Boy muds. Man not. How?"A nurse, maybe American, pushes forward. Several doctors crowd behind her. She's beautiful, fair skin, blonde hair, and a full figure. They begin talking in English. I can't follow, but I have to bless Allah for saving me with a puddle of mud and a bold nurse."We must go to a court to settle this." The foreigner wants something. He'll win because the court will take statements from everyone. But before I see a judge, I'll be cleaned. Testimony of unbelievers cannot contradict that of the faithful, so the judge will sentence me to whatever fate the Arab pervert wants."That's ridiculous." Another doctor, this one Bengali. "The evidence is clear. The Arab came to find a boy for something illegal. The boy refused and the Arab struck him. Then, like a good Arab, he lied to cover his sins. Perhaps he's a sodomite and the boy flatly refused. He couldn't let the boy talk, so he created an incident.""You don't like me," the Arab says. "I can charge you with slander.""I have pictures," the doctor says. "To support my observation the boy was very muddy and you were not. He could not have had his hand inside your jacket. So you lied. A liar cannot be trusted to tell the truth. So, you can charge me with slander, but how can we test whether you're a sodomite? Do you know, medicine can determine this.""You cannot say these things." the Arab's voice pitches upward. "I was recruiting him for the jihad, nothing more.""Terrorism," an American doctor says. "Say what you mean.""The Rohingya people deserve better treatment." Someone from the crowd.The Bengali doctor asks, "When even we, who share a religion, do not care for the Rohingya, why should we expect others, who have a different religion, to wish them around? Should not we, the people of Bangladesh, extend a more welcoming hand first?""Then why don't you?" The crowd begins to shift about."Because our nation is overcrowded." The doctor turns around the room. "We cannot support more people. You have trouble because you caused too many problems and now we have no room for you."All I want is to get out. Away from all this trouble. Then the man on my back shifts his weight. A moment later, pain lances through my side and he darts out the door. Rising proves impossible. My breath comes short. The nurse rushes to my side, then my eyes shut and nothing.Waking up, everything is pain. Ribs, eyes, mouth, all scream their outrage. The pretty nurse comes over as soon as I stir. She sits on a wooden stool and does doctor things that make no sense to me. Despite parched lips, I say, "Water."She pours some into a glass, then holds it while I sip. She says in surprisingly good Rohingya, "We will probably discharge you in another few days.""Your words are clear today.""Oh, that," She drops her head, looking down. "I'm only a nurse's aid. More peace corps worker than real nurse. I've been here almost three years and practice every day.""You are beautiful.""And a lot older than you. Three months ago I turned twenty.""I turn eighteen next month.""You look a lot younger." She glances up. "Islamic men prefer younger women.""I want a woman who is capable. Not a sheep." And none want me because I look like a child."I won't convert.""You like me?""You showed spirit. You tried to escape terrorist recruiters.""Mujaheddin." I don't want my religion maligned."They target children.""So do the Myanmar authorities.""Two wrongs don't make a right." Her eyes waver. She cries for all the children."I won't join them." I really don't care. I want a life. "I'm not a good Muslim.""Don't say that.""I want a life beyond just existing." I have to make her understand. She's perfect. Beautiful, educated, and not ready to send me off to die over a scrap of land I barely remember. She looks at me like I'm a person. "Here, I work every day, just to earn scraps. I have to live off charity. All I want is a chance to raise a family, but I can't. I want others to listen and hear my plight, of all my people's losses. But I can't do anything here because nobody wants any of us. I won't make a child grow up like this.""I can never have children." Her eyes hold unnamable sorrow when she says it. "I'm not as perfect as you think.""You have eyes of compassion." I reach my hand up, then wince as it pulls something."Be careful. You have stitches.""Will I die?""Not from this. We're watching for infection." She bites her lower lip. I want to tell her how tempting it is. She continues, "How hard are you willing to work for five dollars a day?""What is that in taka?""Five hundred and fifty," she says after consulting her phone."Hard." She understands. I may not be very big, but I can work from morning until night with only a little rest and water."Come to the back door the morning after you are released. Someone will have errands. Do them well and you'll keep the job. You get paid at the end of every day."I've been working almost a week. I carry messages, help load and unload supplies, clean, move cots and crates and machines within the clinic, and anything else they ask. She comes out near midday. "Want to eat lunch?""I'm working.""I talked to your supervisor." She holds up a box in her hands. "I packed a lunch this morning.""I would rather starve with you than feast with another." I smile. "To eat something you prepared, I wonder if I died and am now in paradise.""That's nice. You know I'm still not sure how to say your name." She looks at me oddly. "And you've never asked mine.""Many think it improper to ask. I need an introduction from one of your male relatives.""My family isn't like that." She holds out a hand, "Tracy Epps.""Ah." Her hand is so soft, I lose track of my thoughts for a moment. "Zahid or Denpa."We walk together for a short distance before we reach an area reserved for medical personnel. Unlike the places where I might eat, the lean-to where I live or the dirt beside the road, this place has benches and tables.Tracy puts the box down. "We can eat here."The box holds so much food. "I have never eaten this much."The food is odd, but delicious. I have not eaten any meat in so long. It is chicken in thick crunchy breading. "I think I'm in love. I never had chicken like this.""I'm from where all food is fried. Chicken, okra, steak, you name it, we fry it.""Why is a beautiful woman like you interested in a nobody like me?"She puts down her fork, into the thick potato puree. "First, you're a person. Everybody is somebody. Second, I don't know for sure. You're nice- everyone comments on how you treat patients when you pass them. Water or a little conversation, or whatever they need, you do it. We hired you to fetch and carry, but you act like a caregiver.""This is the only hospital we have.""More a clinic. Remember the Covid crisis back in twenty?"How could I forget? My last surviving relative, my grandmother, died of it. I nod and bite into a piece of chicken. She must note my sadness, because she changes topic.Three weeks later, we have a pattern. Every Tuesday, we eat together. And talk. And last time she held my hand as we walked back. Today, we get a big pallet of supplies, but they are on the far side of camp and I go with a driver to retrieve it. Hard work, but we run late returning and I fear I will miss lunch. As we near the clinic, I see a plume of smoke. People are gathered, watching and we cannot get through. I get out and run around, past them, yelling to get out of the way. Eventually, I get close.Smoke billows from windows and flames lick the eaves of the clinic's roof. I don't see Tracy. The doors smolder. I run, leap, and crash through a window. Someone lies slumped over a table. I drag them to the window and hoist them out. Someone outside can help them. I go further into the building. Another person, very heavy. Drag them to the room and call out, "I can't lift. Get in and help."Still no sign of Tracy. Run back in. My legs tire and my lungs are on fire, but I will save her or die. A cot with a patient and someone on the floor. Tracy? No, but I put them on the rolling bed and wheel them to the first room. Someone broke the wall and waiting people take the two I just brought back. Someone puts a thing in my hand. A mask and a tank. I put it on and run back. My hands crack, the skin peeling off, but I spot Tracy.I grab her. She's heavier than me, but I get her in my hands and drag her. Fire races across the ceiling and pieces of panels fall around me, burning what they touch. I lean over Tracey to keep it off her. What an idiot. After taking a deep breath, I put the mask over her face. Her beautiful face will not be burned today. I drag, even as my head starts to swim. I stagger. My shirt catches on fire, but I see the room. All it needs is to drag, one foot after the other. Then hands grab and I make sure they have Tracy before it all goes black."Hey hero," Tracy greets me when I wake. "You're in a National Hospital in Chittagong.""I will never be able to pay for this.""My uncle is paying. You saved five people.""You have a rich uncle." Of course she does. They will never accept me."My uncle Sam paid.""Thank him for me." Bandages wrap much of my body. Everything hurts."Uncle Sam is the United States government. One of the people you saved was a visiting Navy doctor. If you ever wanted to emigrate, now would be the time.""What of my people?" If I have the chance, I must not forget them.A big man, older, western, speaking English too fast for me to understand."Meet my dad." Tracy smiles at me."Mister Epps." I shake his hand."We know how you kept going in until you passed out," Tracy tells me. "Dad's impressed.""I kept looking for you.""You never passed anyone," Tracey says. "You could have just gone looking for me and left them. But you didn't. Dad told me it's OK with him if we go out together.""And what of the Rohingya?" I don't want to lose her, but I feel obliged to help my people as well. "I have been here for eight years, since 2017. I've lived here and seen it get worse. Nobody wants us, but if we split apart, we will disappear. What then?"Tracy tells her father what I said. They talk a bit. She turns to face me. "Dad says you can learn English, go to America and help raise awareness for all the genocide. Get education and give talks. Rally support. People ignored the Japanese in China until Pearl S. Buck wrote The Good Earth. Your people need a voice. You can be that voice.""I will need your help." I stare into her beautiful eyes. "I cannot do this without you.""You came for me when I needed you most. Of course I'll stand by you."NotesJohnny, and Luther Htoo (pronounced too)- twin brothers born 1988 who, in the late 1990's were leaders of an insurgency group in the Myanmar wars. They started fighting at age nine and were chain smokers by age ten. They were nicknamed Bu Lu and Bu Joh.The Rohingya Genocide is considered ethnic cleansing by Rakhine Buddhists against Rohingya Muslims. It has been tolerated and/or facilitated by the Myanmar government since 2017. Death totals are estimated around 24,000 in the last four years and another 700,000 have been displaced. The total Rohingya population is estimated as under two million people. That's more than 1% of their total populace murdered in four years, and more than a third driven from their homes.Myanmar underwent a period of over seventy years of internal warfare following their independence from Britain in 1948.Myanmar currently produces a large portion, perhaps as much as 25%, of the world's illegal heroin/opium.Pakistan, which then included modern day Bangladesh, sent Mujaheddin into Myanmar from 1948-1950. A current group ARSA may also have ties to Pakistan and Saudi Arabia, though this is not conclusively proven. Amnesty International has reported at least one incident by ARSA where they massacred local Buddhists.10 taka are roughly equal to 12 cents. Right now. That may well fall in the future, so I dropped it to 10 taka are 9 cents, or a dollar is just over 110 taka.Cox's Bazaar is home to many of the 1.1 million Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh.
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5,681
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Write a romance where your character falls in love with the last person they expected to.
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Straight from my Heart
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This story comes straight from my heart. I find that God is the best author ever, so I hope I do this story justice in its retelling. I’ve adapted a portion of my novel, My Answered Prayer, for this short story.
At seventeen, I was a straight-A student who was very serious about her faith and her education. I felt God was leading me somewhere great, and I still do. Unexpectedly, He led me to help someone I never would have imagined.
As usual, I had my nose in a book on this boring afternoon. I got this feeling someone was staring at me. Peering over the top of my page, I caught the stare of a very attractive yet rebellious and troublesome boy. I couldn’t believe he was looking at me, the quiet girl in the corner. Not wanting to be rude, I waved but pulled my book back to its original position. In doing so, I hoped to distract myself and hide my blushing face.
Though I found I was attracted to this dark-headed lady's man, I decided I was never going to give him the time of day. Cash wore all black and engaged in questionable behavior. He was exactly everything I wanted to avoid, but for some reason, I had caught his eye.
I didn't understand it. Cash had beautiful girls falling all over him 24/7. Why on earth was he looking at me? I definitely was not like the other girls he hung around, and I wasn't about to be, either.
His crush got to be more and more noticeable as time wore on. Eventually, he broke his silence.
“Hey.” He got my attention from my book.
“Hi.” I cautiously answered.
“I was just wondering... did it hurt?” His eyes were concerned... those dark chocolate eyes.
“Did what hurt?”
"You know, when you fell from Heaven." Cash's charming smile had my heart pounding, but I knew if I led this guy on, things would only get worse.
"Did you just call me the devil?" I asked him seriously. His smile fell, and he looked to the floor. He was both shaken that he hadn't won me over and that he failed to see the fault in his line.
“Ok, you got me,” he admitted and shrugged. I smiled in my victory and returned my nose to my book. However, he wasn’t done yet. “I’ve read that one. It’s pretty good.”
“No, you haven’t.” I knew he was just trying to get to me.
“Yes, I have. The butler turns out to be the thief. I saw it from a mile away.” So... He had read the book and just ruined the ending for me!
“Knowing I was reading this, why would you spoil it for me?”
“Now, you can put the book down and talk to me since you know how it ends.”
“I think I’d rather read it for myself.” I was annoyed now, and this guy wasn’t taking the hint. Separating us with my book, I ended the conversation... I thought.
"Oh, I see what you're doing. You're playing hard to get. Well, I've got news for you," Cash warned and put his hand on my book. He shoved it onto the desk in front of me and put his face directly in front of mine. Our eyes locked. "I always get what I want."
Unwavering, I said with a smile, “Good luck to you because so do I.” I pulled my book from his grip and separated us once again.
“This isn’t over,” he said and walked away. I gave a taunting wave and found myself giggling after he left the room.
He wasn't lying. It was far from over. This sort of banter became our daily routine. He would come up with a killer, sweet line that would make most girls swoon, but I was quick to shut him down. Day in and day out, he tried hard and never seemed to get discouraged. It was almost like a game, and I honestly enjoyed it. I think he started to see that, too. Through this, we oddly became friends.
I don't remember the last one he said to me, but I put my upturned palm over my forehead dramatically and proclaimed that he almost had me with that one. With a giggle, I walked around him as he stood there, stunned.
“THAT’S IT!” He declared, and I turned back to him. “I’ve given you my best material, and you’re still turning me down. What is it going to take to convince you?”
"Honestly, I don't want a line. I know you don't mean a word of it." I shrugged and was real with him for once. "If you truly liked me, coming up with something from your heart wouldn't be hard." I turned to leave once again. However, I couldn't help myself and turned back to him. "Since you like lines so much, I have one for you: When you get tired of a whole lot of girls, and you decide you want a whole lot of woman, look me up.”
His eyes went wide, and he touched his chest. “I think I’m in love.”
I rolled my eyes and left. No one had ever told Cash 'no' before, so I assumed that was the only reason he was crazy about me.
Soon, it was homecoming night. Our boys had just won the football game, and we were all running to the gym for a dance. I was having a great time with my friends and not paying the world any mind. The music was loud and booming, the atmosphere was fun and celebratory, and everyone seemed to be having a great time.
Group dances are some of my favorites, and I really got into this one. I didn't know the steps, but I could follow the beat and my fellow classmates as they rhythmically danced in unison. When I turned to face the opposite way, I found myself face to face with Cash. His eyes went wide with surprise.
“You?”
“You! You just won’t quit, will you?”
“I told you: I get what I want. To be honest, I didn’t know it was you until a second ago.”
“Yeah, your surprise was pretty genuine,” I realized with a giggle and made him chuckle, too.
“I didn’t know you could dance.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, but to be honest, I’m just trying to keep in step. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Well, you’re faking it pretty well,” he approved with a smile, “But it’s a little more like this.” Cash got up behind me and guided my movements with his hands on my hips. "There you go." Without realizing it, I had a new dance partner.
We spent the rest of the evening twirling each other around, dancing in sync with each other, and truly loving every moment. Toward the end of the evening, we ended up so close that our foreheads touched, and Cash's chocolate eyes gazed into mine.
Breathily, he said, “It’s a mistake for anyone to call you a girl. You’re a woman, and that’s sexy. It’s really hard not to kiss you right now.” I was gone. I don’t know if it was the sparkling disco ball, the loud music, or the magical night that got me, but I leaned forward. Before our lips could meet, however, the lights came on, and we both let go of each other.
He said it was to protect our reputations. If people saw us together, they may think that he or I had changed and neither of us wanted that. So, again I assumed that was it.
One day, I came to class and found him in a state that I’d never seen. His eyes were glazed over, he moved funny, and he was not himself at all. He explained what he’d done to himself.
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
"Nobody cares about me, ok?"
“I DO, and that’s exactly who you’re destroying. How could you?” I couldn’t stop the tears. “I can’t watch you do this to yourself.” I got up and moved to another seat across the room. I watched as our friends funneled in and found him amusing. It was the first time that I put together why he does these things. It makes him feel loved. The many girls. The wild parties. The substances. He was looking for love and coming up empty everywhere he looked.
After that, I didn’t see him for a few days. I thought maybe I finally drove him off, though I didn’t mean to. However, it turned out the opposite was true.
I'll never forget that morning he came to me and locked the door behind him. We were alone in the classroom. His eyes were intense but clear. He moved with purpose, and for the first time around him, I was scared. Arming myself with my pencil, I gripped it at the end of my desk but never took my eyes off him. When he got close, he looked down and noticed my pencil. The smile that crossed his face made me nervous.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” His words and voice comforted me, and I decided to trust him. I let go of the pencil. “Actually, that’s why I don’t want to be friends anymore.”
“What?”
“I tend to hurt the people that mean the most to me, and I don’t ever want to hurt you." His words surprised me, but I stayed silent. "I'm going to tell you something, and afterward, I want you to get as far away from me as possible." He proceeded to tell me some horror stories of things he'd done. I won't tell them to you, but the charges he faced could put him away for life...
I heard every word and didn't speak, but I also watched the tears build and spill from his eyes. I saw a young man who felt sorry for what he'd done but had no way to fix it. I also heard of how his family sent him away instead of getting him help. He was lost and alone.
“I hurt all of them, but I refuse to hurt you. You’re never allowed to cry, and you cried over me... I’m nothing to cry over.”
“I care about you.”
"I know, and that's why you have to go." He was so broken. He trembled at the truth he'd just confessed to me, and it was then that I decided I was going to be the one to help him. "Go," Cash ordered breathily.
I stood from my chair, but instead of leaving, I walked around my desk to embrace him. He stiffened in surprise, but I held him tightly. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together.” He hugged me back when the shock wore off, but he couldn’t get over it.
Over the next few months, we became very close. Cash gave up his bad habits, dark clothes, and the girls. He let me into his world, and I let him into mine. We shared so much in common and danced nearly every day. Turns out he was the son of a dance instructor, but he never liked to dance until he danced with me... We shared a love of literature, history, and playing soccer. Being dancing partners, I knew how to read his eyes on the field, and we were unstoppable. We were amazing together, and we both fell head-over-heels for the other.
Through true love from Jesus and me, I watched this hurting boy turn into a happy, healthy young man who started going to church. It blessed my heart so much, and I'd never been happier.
Over time, our relationship matured, and though I felt strongly connected to him, I was surprised when he proposed. It mainly took me off guard because of this conversation:
“I used to think marriage was an outdated concept. I mean, why have just one girl when you can have them all?”
I blinked my eyes as my anger rose. “Well, it’s nice to see where we are going.” I turned away from him, but he tapped my shoulder.
"I said, 'I used' to think that way."
“And now?” My eyebrow arched as I hoped for change.
“I understand that the rest of the girls don’t matter when you find the one that does.” His dark, loving eyes showed his very intent...
A few days later, I was surprised with an important ring and a question that changed our lives. I'd never seen him happier than when I said 'yes' and proudly wore his ring on my finger. We were engaged!
We were sitting together one day when he decided I needed to know something else. “You saved my life.”
“Here you go with the lines again,” I rolled my eyes playfully at him.
“It’s not a line. It’s the truth. You literally saved my life... I was going to kill myself.” I looked into his eyes. There was no play in them. “I was convinced that no one cared at all, and I was seriously just waiting for the day I was strong enough to do it... But then, there was you.” The tears in my eyes threatened to spill over as he continued. “You were different. Every day, I just had to see you one more time. The day you cried over me... I realized I didn’t want to hurt you, so I needed you as far away from me as possible. But you drew even closer... You saved my life. Please don't cry."
“I can’t help it,” I said and embraced him. “Please don’t ever...”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll always care.”
“I know.”
God had brought us together for a reason, but unfortunately, only for a season. We did not get to marry before God called him to be elsewhere. He had a new mission in life... one that was impossible for me to complete with him. Our beautiful relationship brought us exactly what we needed at the time and bettered us both. He has gone on to help others, one person at a time, and I have too, one story at a time. I thank God that I was part of something so beautiful, and I am thankful Cash is ok. God writes the best stories, and I was honored to be part of this one. You never know who you might touch or help without even meaning to, but it could mean all the difference.
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2,168
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Write a story that ends with the narrator revealing a secret.
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Stranger
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Hey Neeta, wake up don’t you have college today. You are getting lazier day by day. You used to be so active in your school days. Neeta’s mother was trying to pull her daughter out of bed. Oh, Ma why don’t you let me sleep for some time, I was studying the whole night ma, she pulled her blanket and tried to couch herself. But Neeta’s mother pulled her out of bed until she woke up. Neeta with a frown on her face pulled her lazy legs into the bathroom. She rammed the door giving an angry look to her mother. A little later she barged into the kitchen, “Ma, fast I want coffee with breakfast. You woke me so early right, now give me breakfast I am hungry.” You hungry devil, why did I ever wake you up” with a loud laugh she put the breakfast plate in front of Neeta. Neeta gobbled her breakfast and set out to her college. She used to cycle her way when she was in school. Now she owned a two wheeler which would vroom her way to college. Neeta was a very smart kid right from her childhood. She was an A grade student all throughout her school. Now she was in her first year of her higher secondary. Neeta finished her class and returned home. She had a surprise waiting .Her maternal uncle Rishab was talking to her father. Neeta jumped with joy and started looking around to meet her little cousin Rohan who was a chubby little two year old. “Uncle Rishab where is Rohan my cute little cousin, didn’t you bring him, where is aunt Geetha I cannot find her”. “Wait, child breathe easy, I will answer to your questions, and Geetha aunty and Rohan haven’t come. I have bought a new bungalow in my town I came here to invite you guys to the house warming ceremony, it’s on Feb 28. I hope you will be free to attend my little girl. “Oh no uncle couldn’t you extend the function for a fortnight. I have my exams from March 1st and I won’t be able to attend the function. Neeta was so upset that she was almost in tears. Her Dad Srikanth consoled her saying” it’s ok kid, you can visit your Uncle’s house once you finish your exams.” , “No Papa, I want to attend the function and meet my little bro Rohan, it been so long since I have met him and Geetha Aunty”. Then Neeta’s mother intervened saying,” Look, Neeta you cannot attend the function, your exam is just next day and you have to prepare for it, did I make my point clear”. Neeta furiously barged into her room and locked the door. She was almost shattered and crying that she was not allowed to come with them. Then Neeta’s dad Srikanth came to the rescue. He cajoled and consoled his daughter. “Child, your mom is right, your exam is just the next day of the function and you need to brush up your lessons isn’t it. “But Papa, I will promise you that I will prepare for the exams very well so that you would let me attend the function, please dad”. “Fine child, you can attend on one condition you have to study well and top the class”. Neeta hugged her dad hard, “My sweet dad, I’m so happy”. Jumping with joy she went into her room. Though Neeta’s mother Kavitha was reluctant in taking Neeta to the function finally she accepted. Kavitha had to leave early for the function so that she could help Geetha in arranging things for the occasion. Neeta and her father Srikanth reached just a day before the function. She was very well prepared for the exams, hence enjoyed the rituals happy and gay. She played with Rohan and moved behind her aunt helping her in simple chores. She had to leave her uncle’s house the same day along with her dad. But something untoward happened and kavitha fell sick and she had to stay back. Srikanth was forced to stay back with her as she was hospitalised. Neeta had to travel alone. She was a brave girl yet her parents were worried to send her alone. She was travelling alone for the first time, though a bit nervous she made up her mind and set out to reach her house. She travelled by train and reached the station where she had to get down. She had to board a bus to reach her house. When she boarded the bus, she felt something unusual. She felt a chill in her bones, she looked back to see a strange character staring at her. He was horrifying; the pitch dark complexioned man had a long scar on his face. His face looked ugly and fearful. Neeta felt her pulse rate beat faster, she was palpating, and she felt her heart thumping hard. She was drenched with perspiration. The man behind who was eyeing on her and waving at her looked weird. She couldn’t even look back. That was the last stop; the bus would go no further. She got down at the bus stand and walked as fast as she could. She had to walk a few hundred metres from the stand to reach her house. The strange looking creature got down the bus and followed her. It was pitch dark and the street lights were gone off due to a scheduled power cut. She felt that someone was following her lo the weird looking man was almost on his toes behind her. Neeta with a running spree took to her toes. The man also followed her in the same pace. She ran as fast as she could until she reached her house. She looked behind to see the man at the corner of the street. She opened the door and barged in, closed the door with a bang. Neeta saw that man opening the gate; she just wanted to scream loud to wake her neighbours she saw something fall from the open window. It was shining bright with an led display. “Oh my God, it’s my Swiss watch which was given as a present by my Uncle. He had brought this watch from Switzerland, it’s my favourite watch.” “How on earth I didn’t find out that it was fallen down. She just peeped through the window. The person who looked weird and horrifying whose footsteps did bring shivers to Neeta, was actually a good Samaritan who had followed her to return her precious watch which had fallen down when she tried to board the bus. The stranger had seen it and had picked it up to return her priceless possession. He could neither talk nor hear hence he had followed her to return the same. But Neeta had mistaken him to be an ill-gotten villain who was trying to pounce on her. She smiled with a relief on her face. The weird looking stranger smiled back and bid goodbye.
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9,295
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Write a story about an average day turned upside down by an unexpected visitor.
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Sìthiche's Lesson
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Away in a town, a bright, sunshiny town in the highlands of Scotland, with little rivers and brooks, there lived two little girls. One girl was called Elaine for her golden curly-top and bright laugh. The other was called Ahearn for her love watching the horses ride across the dewy fields in the morning. Ahearn had flowing hair that shone red in the sun when it blazed down upon their village. Her voice was soft, but not high, and her eye did not smile lest it be upon the leader of the herd. For what she wanted most in the world was to ride on the back of the dappled grey mare and feel the wind in her hair and the sunshine on her face. Every morning in the spring, the girls would rise at first light, and were sent to collect the eggs in their great straw basket, watch over the small plot where their family's vegetables grew, and tend their small flock of sheep. The other villagers in the town would gather every dawn at the square to sell the things they made or farmed. The children knew Sandy to be the one who would pass them a bit of taffy or peppermint stick from his booth. Aileene would chat with them and make them laugh with the funny way she talked, and Baird would dance for the town while he played his flute or bagpipes. So it followed that Elaine and Ahearn would rather be romping in the square one afternoon after their chores than staying at home. But fate doesn't always comply with children's wishes, and the girls were sent to collect water from the mountain well and wildflowers for a celebration of spring the following day. Grudgingly, they began to climb up the slopes of the mountains. Ahearn had been there many times before in secret to watch the horses that sheltered in the open plains, and so she lead Elaine to the place best for picking wildflowers and finding the horses. But what is not long for grown-ups becomes years for children, and the jars the little girls carried on their shoulders only added to the weight of the hike. Elaine, determined not to lose the day to bitterness, began to sing a song their father sang to them.O the summer time has comeAnd the trees are sweetly bloomin'And the wild mountain thymeGrows around the bloomin' heatherWill ye goLassieGo? Ahearn did not hear the words sung by her sister, for at that moment she stopped in her tracks. No horses stood grazing in the meadow, but a hunched figure knelt on the ground picking flowers with a bright blue dragon-fly whizzing around her snow-white hair that was pulled into a beautiful braided knot. Ahearn's disappointment did not dampen her curiosity, so she nudged her sister beside her who still stared at the sky, singing in a dreamlike trance. "Elaine, look. There's a woman here. A woman I have not seen before." Elaine didn't seem to hear her sister, so Ahearn walked cautiously ahead, setting down her clay jar, and began to pluck the flowers and lay them in the basket that hung on her small arm. She daren't speak to the woman, only a meter away, for she had been taught never to speak to strangers. But presently the old woman began to hum, and then to sing in a beautiful melodic voice that echoed sweetly through the meadow. First she sang of the birds in the trees, then the clear water of the brooks, then the bold cliff-faces on the mountains. She sang of the spirit of the woodland, of the highlands. Of the great kings of old and their steeds, of the poor and happy peasants she sang. By this time Elaine's song had stopped, and Ahearn knelt silently among the flowers, hands folded in her lap. Ahearn listened in awe of the way this strange woman sang, when finally her voice began to get quieter. The dragon-fly at her shoulder had stopped buzzing around her head when the song had begun, and curiously enough, he seemed to be the thing that made the woman stop singing. She turned to look about her at the girls and gracefully stood up. "Oh, hello there. I didn't know anyone else came to this mountain. Pardon my singing." Elaine found her voice and responded brightly, "We were sent here for water and flowers." The old woman laughed, and Ahearn noticed for the first time the youth in her smile, in her eyes. She asked her, "Where did you come from?" The lady smiled. "I have lived in this land for many lifetimes. Long ago I saw the castles and the knights that you hear of in stories now. Long ago this mountain used to be my home, but I have since begun to travel far distances." "Why do you travel so much?" Ahearn asked once again. Elaine, now standing quite close to her sister, whispered, "Ahearn. It's not polite to ask questions.""We may as well since there aren't any horses here. Do you think she scared them away?" Hearing their loud whispers, the woman explained, "I travel a lot because I tell stories. And I told the horses to leave because I heard from him," Here the woman nodded to the dragon-fly who hovered near her ear, "that we might have company. I told him there probably wouldn't, but since he insisted, I explained this to Merida, the leader of the herd. She is a very good friend of mine." Ahearn had a sudden longing to hear from this strange woman, much to Elaine's unnecessary distress. "What is your name?""My name..." The woman chuckled. "I have been given many names. But the one you may call me is Sìthiche." "You're a fairy?" Ahearn wondered aloud, surprised. "I am." "So you can speak with horses?" Sìthiche nodded. "Yes, I can speak with all kinds of animals. And I know from what he has told me," here again she nodded to the blue dragon-fly, "You have an eye for them." Ahearn nodded and beamed. "Do you think you could call...Merida? Could you maybe please call her so I can ride her?" Sìthiche sat still in though for a moment. "I will, Ahearn. For your name demands that. But I think you need to hear something first. Elaine dear, would you begin to pick some of the heather? I have something I need to teach Ahearn." Elaine furrowed her brow, but deciding to trust this stranger, skipped away with her basket. "Now Ahearn," Sìthiche began. "You see the beauty in horses. You see their noble hearts, their spirit. Where do they get it?" Ahearn thought a moment. "It's just in them, I think. I think they like the things around them. Like the flowers in the meadow here." Sìthiche nodded and continued, "They see the beauty in the world and it gives them strength. Do you see why your sister smiles and laughs all the time? It is because she sees it too. She sees the small, beautiful things on this earth like the sound of water, the color of strawberries, the touch of grass. The sound of babies laughing, of your mother and father singing. Ahearn, if you only look for beauty in horses, then you will miss so much around you. Learn to smile and laugh at the things at home. This doesn't mean to not be who you are, it means to see who you are meant to be." Something inside the little girl listening to this fairy's speech tugged on her heart. Thoughtfully and solemnly, she nodded her head and whispered, "I will." "I'm glad of that, Ahearn." Some time in silence passed, and the dragon-fly was sent to get Elaine. When both girls again were present, Ahearn asked Sìthiche if she would not stay a while and tell them a story. Sìthiche gazed into the sky and felt the breeze a moment before answering. "I will visit your village tomorrow for the spring festival, and I will tell you a story if you like while you fetch the water. And," she looked at Ahearn with a twinkle in her eye, "If he tells me you have learned to see beauty in everyday things, I just might send Merida to your door." And so into the evening the girls walked with Sìthiche and listened to her stories, soaking in as much wisdom as they possibly could, and Ahearn from that day forth grew brighter and lovelier, seeing beautiful mysteries behind common affairs, and gaining joy from them. Watch for the small things, the pretty trifles that make life brighter. Don't let your sights be set on things that will bring you down. Fight the battle to remember what joy and beauty there is in the world.
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5,850
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Write a story about an unconventional holiday tradition.
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THE CHRISTMAS NUT
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THE CHRISTMAS NUT
Mary and Louis spent every Christmas in their cottage in the Alpes with their children. They had been married for ten years. Every year, at Christmas there was a new child. In their cozy cottage, there was always a Christmas tree and a Nativity scene made with the figurines that Louis and Mary engraved in wood and that their children modeled in clay.
To have a pinch of novelty to the usual Christmas Mary and Louis had decided to inaugurate a completely new tradition. All of them were found in nuts and loved squirrels. They had therefore decided that for Christmas Mary and Louis would hide the biggest nut they had, and their children would have to find it ( should find it). Whoever found the nut would have received, as an award, the honor to be photographed and filmed under the Christmas tree in the company of PIPPI POPPI, the squirrel which practically lived in the cottage, as Pippi Poppi was holding the biggest nut among its front paws, close to the muzzle.
Louis and Mary found a hiding place that was not too easy to find but, at the same time, not inaccessible where they put the beautiful big walnut that a friend had brought them from Madagascar. Since they wanted their children to work hard to find the walnut but they wished also that, after having worked hard, they finally find it. Then they all would celebrate together and the guest of honor would be Pippi Poppi.
After Christmas dinner, Louis set off the search. With Pippi Poppi perched on his shoulder, he announced: “ The search begins! READY, SET, GO!” The children went on the treasure hunt, looking for the BIG WALNUT, while Christmas music resounded in the cottage and Mary and Louis sang “ YOU COMES FROM THE STARS”, and “ SILENT NIGHT” cuddling their newborn Ruth, who was just a few days old.
There, in the cottage, with a crackling fire under the fireplace, in front of the Christmas tree, with Ruth in their arms, they too felt, at least a little, the characters of the Nativity scene.
The children scattered all over the cottage, which was quite large, looking for the treasure of the walnut, that their father had shown them, holding it on the hollow formed by both palms of his hands approaching each other. It wasn’t really just any walnut. It was at least big as three of the ones they and Pippi Poppi too were used to eating.
While the children rummaged even in the cellar and went up onto the roof, hoping to find the big Madagascar nut( walnut), Pippi Poppi hopped, squeaking, through the cottage, enchanted above all by the Christmas tree on which he climbed and also tried to gnaw on some colored balls which, however, he did not find good to eat.
In the meantime, other squirrels had entered the cottage, including Dummy Pimpa, which was Pippi Poppi’s partner. All of them, enchanted by the lights, had climbed the big Christmas tree and tried to bite into the colored balls, the bows, and the stars. But, finding nothing edible on the Christmas tree, they ended up rushing on the still laid table, gorging on peanuts, walnuts, and even sweets and fruit. Mary and Louis, delighted, had also placed Ruth on the table, and the squirrels had begun to sniff her and even stroke her with their big tails. It seemed the squirrels were also offering the baby peanuts and walnuts. They sniffed the peanut or nut they held with their paws close to their muzzle and then placed it in Ruth’s little mouth. It was a delightful show that Mary and Louis immortalized with photos and videos.
The children kept getting busy looking for the big Madagascar nut that they kept not finding. They even looked for it in the fire...
As they couldn’t find it after hours of looking for it everywhere, they first began to suspect that...the big nut was gone... Yes, it could be a fairy, a magical nut.....Then they began to doubt their dad, who maybe had put the big nut in his pocket, instead of hiding it in the cottage as he said. Or maybe the big nut was in a mom’s pocket....Or maybe dad had hidden it on Ruth! Yes, in Ruth’s diaper he must have hidden the nut! How had they not thought of it before? The children
rushed at Ruth, they undressed her and rummaged in her pee-soaked diaper...Nothing! The big walnut wasn’t there either. The children then, in exasperation, not only searched, rummaging, into their father’s and their mother’s pockets but also tore the clothes off their parents, in their frantic search for the big nut. They were beginning to think that their dad made fun of them. He probably had to have eaten the big nut after he had shown it to them. How could they find it if the nut had been eaten?
On his part, Louis kept repeating to his children oh, yet, come on, it wasn’t so difficult to find the
BIG NUT....They were about to find it, they had already come close to finding it....and he repeated
that they shouldn’t be discouraged, they would have found it.
Evening fell and shortly thereafter night, the warm Christmas night, with all the comfortable warmth of a home when it’s cold outside. Ruth was sleeping placid and serenely in her mother’s arms, the squirrels were gone, but the children hadn’t found the nut yet. They were tired and exasperated. They started ranting against their dad who, in their opinion, had made fun of them, and was still making fun of them. They couldn’t find the nut if the nut there wasn’t there! While Louis kept repeating that instead, the nut was there...he had hidden it in the cottage. Come on, it was not impossible to find it...that they looked well, that they searched carefully...He went so far as to give them the suggestion to go back to the cellar.
Finally, they found it. It was in an empty barrel in the cellar. It was ( had been) difficult to find it because it was dark inside the barrel. But the children found the big nut...so to say. Only the shell was left of the nut. The squirrels had found it before them and had eaten it.
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7,151
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End your story with a truth coming to light.
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THE FACT SHE HID ...............................................
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Sujania lived with her roommate in the house given to them by their firm. She worked for an economic group MNBF for two years . She was the youngest girl in the group and the most weird person in the group . She slept once or twice in a week and sometimes in a fortnight . She generally didn't came out of her room and worked continuously for hours without a break . This was something that fascinated her friends. It was a holiday today all the friends of her other group members. Some of those were the members of a well known boyband. Everyone was sitting enjoying and laughing . Suddenly the manager of the boyband's company came there . This made every one surprised . One of the members of the band asked " What are you doing here?" This made the manager laugh and he asked "So..... all of you don't know the fact ?" "What fact" asked everyone . "Ok so what basically you all think about Sujania 's professional life.?""A university student and a MNBF member" said one of them.This was the way she used to introduced herself to everyone." That's what you all don't know , ok then tell me do you know about the company 'Born wild' and 'Adaldo' ?""Who don't about these world famous company. " said her roommate Ritaria. " So Sujania is the owner and CEO OF Born Wild , joint owner and CEO of Adaldo. Not only that she is the world known economist , public speaker , trainer of the groups owned by your firm and has trained more than 500 groups in a year , financial analyzer and major share partner of our company. "And one more thing you know", he said pointing towards boyband," She is the 3/4 owner of your band by owning the share worth $ 300 million and a billionaire . " This led everyone surprised , just then she came down wearing coat pant just like a boss and behind her came her accountants. The manager continued " More than 100 CA work under her and she is the chief economical advisor of the central government ." Sujania interrupted in between and said " Listen we will discuss about that problem when I 'll come back. "Two hours later when she returned back and said "Challenge completed leader>" She was referring to the incident , when she told her that one day she will own world's largest clothing company ., her leader laughed and challenged her about this. She was about to climb the terrace then everyone said " We salute you Miss Minatta." This was her nickname from which she was known . She turned back and went in her room after giving back a cute and innocent smile. One of her friends said " If this is the case then why don't she live in publicity and enjoy being famous."Manager smiled " Its her principle than rather than being famous one should be great. For her publicity and limelight kills the privacy of a person and her privacy is the most important thing in her life. "He heard Sujania's calling her and said " Goodbye , I know what I revealed is hard to swallow and even she hid these things from You because her professional life as she says has nothing to do with her personal life so she don't disclose about these things to anyone." He waved bye and went away to her room. Everyone was shocked and said " She is actually weird "Maddie , her friend came shouting inside , her clothes were torn and hearing her even Sujania came down , when she saw her asked her who did this to you . She pointed towards the ruffians who too came home following her. Maddie hid behind her and Sujania said " Don't even dare to touch her.' Suddenly one of them attacked her from back and she like a film's heroine fought everyone and this was something no one had ever expected. " Commando" said her friend . Finally her friends asked her why didn't you told her.............................................................................. why you hid these things from us ? " "Actually i never felt that these things are necessary to be told , by the way don't think that much its holiday so lets go for some games." . While playing truth and dare , Sujania was asked a question " What if the world don't accepts you just because your views are contradictory or just because you are too liberal "They referred her liberal because once when they asked her about Daffy ( her adopted daughter whom she adopted just because she promised her friend that she will adopt her daughter if she dies. Unfortunately her friend died just a year of her birth , she adopted her.) She replied " I know it shocks people when I say that Daffy don't have imposed my surname or religion to her ." "This is so because she will chose her own religion and surname. This is based on the principle that a mother can be mother of her child's flesh not of her soul. So, its completely Daffy's choice about these thing especially religion which is her own right have her own beliefs ."It was not the first things that she had said something which had shocked people , she had always said things like that . This led them to imagine why she is so . Because by looking at her none can say that she has passed through a lot of struggle in her life .Today even when she was asked she very coolly replied " I don't care as I will create my own world , where I'll have my own rules and principles."This made Ritaria asked " Why are you so cold?" "I hadn't been so by my own wish but what I have seen in my own life shaped my nature .....anyways I don't want to repeat these things and its too night so bbye. I have to go too meet someone ." She wore her shoes and went home. The game too was over and everyone sat for dinner , while eating the dinner the just talked about her weird behavior , and just prayed may she be that strong that she is .
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8,205
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Write about two people reconnecting after a rough patch in their relationship.
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THE HARDEST PART OF LOVE
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Warning: mention of suicide"I love you, I love you more than the sky loves the cloud, I love you more than the night loves the stars, the waves love the ocean and the bees love the flower". Joseph shouted in front of Lisa's house, it was the first time he had ever confessed his feelings to anyone, and even more, had done it in such a dramatic way. He could hear his heart beating louder than ever, his palms sweaty and knees weak. The wind whistled as it passed away, and the sun had hidden its face behind a cloud. All his head would sing was "let her say she loves me back, let her hug me or kiss me and say we belong together".Lisa's face grew red as she watched him, she was impressed no doubt but she was particularly shy. Her mind and heart bubbled with joy, it was all she wanted to hear ever since she sat next to him during biology class. The neighbors stared at her anticipating her response as she gulped then ran out of the house."Hey" she waved to Joseph to come closer, then she whispered, "I love you too". Joseph smiled and hugged her. And so their love story began, they were doomed to go on romantic dates, watch the stars at night together and leave a trail of unforgettable moments.'The high school sweethearts', the famous term used for auspicious lovers that makes lonely people lonelier. Many were envious of how much they loved each other yet supportive, no one wanted their love to end. Their friends had already teased them about attending their wedding and playing a role that caused their relationships."Everything was perfect, so why did she block me on all his social media and stopped talking to me. We are going to the same university, so why?" Lisa had asked her best friend, Jane for the hundredth time as she cried on her silk pillows. Jane could only comfort her, she was also confused, she didn't know what to say and wouldn't either. "If he did that with no explanation, and you didn't do anything to question his trust then you probably should forget about him, he doesn't deserve you or a space in your brain". Jane wanted to say that, it was the only thing that came to her mind but she couldn't.Now the love that everyone envied, seemed to have ended, there were days they would see each other, unable to hug and kiss themselves. Lisa couldn't believe that this was how it would end. She would later find herself, taking deep breaths, her heavy eyes staring at her phone, palms sweaty and her heartbeat taking over the quiet in her car."What am I doing?" she wiped off the tear that came out of her eyes, she wanted to know, she felt desperate to know if she wasn't she wouldn't have tried using another number to try and call him but at the same time she knew, she knew if she heard his voice, her mouth wouldn't make a stutter. She was left lonely and empty. She wondered what Joseph would be thinking, does he miss her, why does he avoid her.Meanwhile, Joseph had been too busy drowning in guilt, cuts filled his forearms, his eyes were tired, he was dehydrated and skinnier. He thought about Lisa all the time. He knew he committed a grave sin by blocking her but he didn't want her to see that he wasn't well, he wanted to tell her, he had wanted to say something every day but he thought that it was rather stupid, he assumed that she wouldn't forgive him. He had destroyed the thing that made him happy, so he chose to stay away.It wasn't till one day, the very same date that Joseph had confessed his feelings to Lisa, the wind whistled, the sun had hidden its face once again, Joseph could hear birds chirping as he looked outside his window, he felt nostalgia, the scene where he had confessed his love was all that played in his head. It had already been a year so he decided to pass by her house, maybe he would catch a glimpse of her, maybe he might even decide to be all dramatic again and say he was sorry and just maybe she would forgive him and kiss him again."Pathetic", he whispered as he stared at her house from the walkway. His eyes looked at the shut window that Lisa looked at when he had said he loved her, he made a fist and bit his lip. He wanted to cry, he wanted to take it all back and tell her the truth, he almost shouted, he almost said I'm sorry but he gave up and started to walk away."Joseph?" goosebumps filled his body, he knew that voice anywhere, he had heard it so many times that it was a part of him, he knew it was her but he was scared to turn."Joseph?" her voice was more curious. He gulped as he turned, after all, it was he hoped for, an opportunity to explain."Lisa", he said softly, tears already falling from his eyes. Lisa's face turned red and before she could say anything, she found her arms around him crying. Joseph couldn't understand why but he hugged her tighter, he had missed her fruity scent and hr soft her."I'm so sorry Lisa, I shouldn't have ghosted you, I was ashamed and I wanted you to hate me, I'm so sorry". He cried into her ears."What was it, what was so bad that you couldn't tell me?". Lisa pulled away as she looked at his eyes, she was despaired and desperate to know.Joseph looked away from her eyes, he couldn't say it staring at her. "I wanted to die, Lisa, I was really going to do it but my dad stopped me. I tried so much to hide it from you, I didn't want to be a burden so when it was time for me to go, I needed you to hate me so you wouldn't suffer. it was stupid and I was wrong and I'm really sorry".Lisa grabbed his face and kissed him, "you fucking idiot, I couldn't have hated you if you hurt me so many times". Joseph cried more and said he was sorry again."Hey I forgive you, and I'm sorry that I didn't notice, I'm sorry that you went through that all alone and I'm really happy you aren't dead because if you did die I would lose myself. I love you so much so please don't do that again" Lisa said as she hugged him, the day he had confessed his love had now become more special, it had become the day they reunited and loved each other more.
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5,702
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Write about a character who’s so afraid of making the wrong choice that their indecision ruins the very thing they were hoping to keep safe.
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THE INDECISIVE DECISION OF NOT BUYING AN RV
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It was a dark, warm, and starry night in the skies over the suburbs of San Francisco, California, as is uncommon for the majority of a calendar year, as 2020 was quite uncommon in itself. You see, our story finds us in a pandemic, a plague of sorts, that no one saw coming, yet our lives, along with the weather pattern, changed us into homebodies who left the house only for certain needs.
The mature married couple, distinguished in looks, yet playful in attitude and humor, abundant in grandchildren, and celebrating their empty-nest syndrome (after 34 years of marriage), were contemplating all the vacation time that Sean, the tall, grey haired, used-to-be well-dressed human resources employee for the big financial institution who was now assigned to work remotely and miss out on traveling at company expense the vast majority of the year, had accumulated and not yet used. His employer's directive was that he could only carry over 40 hours into 2021 (at this time, he had 135 hours yet to use.) Marie, the exceedingly beautiful, talented, charming, red haired wife who truly looks younger than she is, chimed in as to what they should do to try and make their annual trip to the Chicago area, especially in the midst of the pandemic. Normally, there would be flights between SFO and ORD airports, plus a rental car and hotels, but with the pandemic, this lovely couple decided that a long road trip was in order to visit family not seen in over two years.
"Honey, let's buy a travel trailer!" Marie said, remembering days gone by when her parents owned campers, trailers, and motorhomes of various sizes. Sean, already on the same page as Marie, chimed in with, "Yes, we should, as our SUV already has a tow hitch and two electrical ports installed. All we need is the ball that goes into the hitch." "How much does that cost?" Marie asked. "About $50, more or less." "That seems expensive. Maybe we can find it cheaper elsewhere than where you've seen," Marie said. As a smile came across both of their faces, Sean's fingers started walking through the yellow pages of the internet searching for travel trailers near their home in the east San Francisco Bay area.
After inputting the search terms, at least two dozen dealerships within a 75 miles radius allowed this utterly cute couple the opportunity to shop for a travel trailer online, all from the comfort of their home and in quite casual attire. My gosh, the varieties of brands and sizes and prices were overwhelming, to the point that the dealer websites were running too slow for Sean's fast-moving/one-finger typing skills on his Android keypad. His frustration grew as he had to clear his cache and cookies every time a site ran slow and then restart his phone.
After what seemed like an eternity (which in internet terms was less than 5 minutes), Sean was finally able to check out several websites where he input the following parameters:
Travel Trailers, $5,000 to $20,000, Used. What he came to find was disappointment, which he shared with Marie, as most dealers had anywhere from 0 to 4 trailers in that price range. Even worse, majority were marked as "pending sale."
So with a leap of faith, along with lightning fast one-finger typing skills, he decided to change "Used" to "New" and hit "Search." It was as though the various RV dealer websites mocked him, as zero results was all that showed.
"Sweetie, it appears I'm going to have to change parameters and look upwards towards $30,000." Marie responded, "Oh my, that seems like a lot! Do your best." Besides, we could afford $30,000, especially since financing was available for up to 180 months (15 years, in more simplified terms), which would make the payments similar to that of our luxury SUV.
After many nights of looking at dealers, going through Craigslist, Facebook Marketplace, and OfferUp, we found a new travel trailer in our price range (under $20,000), and it was 80 miles south of us. We looked at the dealership's website every night, as we found it on a Monday. Checking every night, ensuring it was the one we wanted, until Marie piped up with the biggest decision-making statement that would determine if we bought the trailer -- "What's the inside height, as you've got to be able to stand inside?"
My heart sank when I read the specifications for inside height -- 6'3". That will not do, as I'm 6'4". Ugh! To walk around crooknecked inside of a travel trailer that we'd be paying on for 15 years was not seeming like a good idea, yet the unit was affordable and had the amenities we wanted.
"Let's sleep on it, pray about it, and then decide. After all, it's Wednesday now and based on where that dealership is located, I doubt the trailer will sell prior to Saturday when we plan on going down to see it." Yet Saturday was not far off and every night, we checked online -- it was still there.
Saturday morning came and we decided this trailer would be the one. Besides, having already lost 2 inches in height just after turning 50 several years prior, chances are strong that I'll lose another inch or two and could stand without craning my neck to stand straight. After getting ourselves decontaminated in the master bathroom and getting dressed for the day, I checked the dealership's website and found the trailer was gone!
"You have got to be kidding!" came the words from my mouth. "How in the world did we miss out on this?! There is no way that unit could have sold during the week, especially in this pandemic." We were both disappointed, yet couldn't tell which of the two of us was moreso.
"It appears that God didn't want us to have that trailer, dear," Marie said. "Chances are there's another one out there with our name on it, so we'll just have to keep looking." I told her, "That will teach me to be indecisive in my decision making."
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1,846
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Write a story that involves a mystery — it doesn't need to be crime-related, it should just include something that remains unexplained until the end.
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THE MYSTREY OF THE LOCKED ROOM AND THE GREAT DETECTIVE
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“Tell me precisely what happened,” said the Great Detective to the three servants who he’d summoned before him. “And don’t leave anything out,” he added.
The Metropolitan Police Commissioner had dispatched the most talented and tenacious detective of Her Majesty’s Constabulary to investigate the dastardly murder of Lord Burlington-Smythe, who had been found dead in his study, earlier that morning.
The Great Detective had already carried out a thorough inspection of the study, as well as the interior and exterior of the building, and, as was his usual practice, he had gathered all of the witnesses together, in the place where the foul deed had been perpetrated.
The scene of the dastardly crime had been left untouched and Lord Burlington-Smythe’s body lay on the floor next to the fire place, with a most grievous wound on the back of his head, from which blood had flowed profusely, staining the carpet around him dark red. There was no sign of a struggle having taken place, but it was obvious that he’d been bludgeoned to death with the bloody poker lying in the hearth.
“First of all,” inquired the detective, “tell me who found the body?”
“We all did, sir,” replied the butler. “His Lordship hadn’t come down for breakfast, so I went to see if he was alright. He’s always most punctilious and breakfasts at precisely seven o’clock each morning.
“When he’d not arrived at his usual time, I went to check his bedroom and found that his bed hadn’t been slept in, so I went to check the study, but, when I knocked, there was no reply and I tried to open the door, but I found that it was locked, so we had to break in.”
“But, surely, as the head butler, you would have keys to all of the doors in the house.”
“I do, indeed, sir, but, when I tried to unlock the door, I found that it was bolted from the inside, so I instructed the footman and the hall porter to break it down.”
“And did you leave the study door unattended, while you summoned help?”
“No, sir, the footman and the hall porter were already in the corridor outside the study.”
“That’s right, sir” confirmed the footman. “There was no answer when we knocked on the door, so we broke it down.”
“Yes and blooming hard work it was too, sir,” added the hall porter. “We had to charge into the door several times, before it finally gave way.”
“Yes, I’ve already observed that the door frame has been splintered,” stated the detective. “Go on.”
“Well, the door suddenly gave way and we fell into the room.”
“I followed them in immediately,” advised the butler, “and we were horrified to find Lord Burlington-Smythe lying on the floor, in a pool of blood, but there was no-one else in the room.”
“With his head all bashed in and a bloody poker lying next to him,” exclaimed the footman.
“I see. What happened next?”
“I sent the hall porter to fetch the local constabulary,” stated the butler, “and they called Scotland Yard straight away.”
“And you say that, apart from Lord Burlington-Smythe’s body, there was no-one else in the room, when you broke in?” asked the detective.
“That’s right, sir,” he confirmed.
“And that the window was closed and locked?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the butler.
“Have you checked to see if anything is missing?”
“Yes, sir. The door to the safe was wide-open and the family jewels are missing. His Lordship has kept them in the safe since the untimely passing of his wife, Lady Burlington-Smythe.”
“And who has access to the safe.”
“Only His Lordship, sir. He keeps the key on his watch chain. I haven’t checked to see to see if it’s still there, as I didn’t want to disturb His Lordship’s body, before the police arrived.”
The detective pulled the watch chain from Lord Burlington-Smythe’s waistcoat pocket and removed the key, which he inserted into the lock on the safe door. It was a perfect fit.
“A most intriguing case, indeed,” mused the Great Detective. “This is obviously the weapon with which Lord Burlington-Smythe was killed,” he continued, as he picked up the bloodstained poker from the hearth. “It’s equally obvious that His Lordship died from foul play, as the nature of his injury rules out suicide or accidental death, but both the door and the window were locked from the inside?”
“Yes, sir,” the three servants replied, in unison.
“I’ve also determined there are no discrepancies in the internal and external dimensions of the room. Nor are there any hidden doors in the walls, and the floor and the ceiling are solid, so there are no secret rooms, or passageways, by which the perpetrator could have escaped, and the flue for the chimney is much too small for anyone to climb up,” he continued, ignoring them.
“But the room was empty when we broke in, sir,” exclaimed the butler. “How could His Lordship’s killer have escaped?”
“The answer is quite simple really,” replied the Great Detective. “You are all under arrest for the murder of Lord Burlington-Smythe.”
“B... but... how on earth did you know that it was us?” stuttered the panic-stricken hall porter.
“The only logical answer to the mystery of the locked room is that you were all in it together,” explained the Great Detective. “His Lordship was hit on the back of his head, but it would have been impossible for a stranger to enter the study, pick up the poker and sneak up on him, whilst his back was turned. Therefore, he must have been killed by somebody he knew and trusted.
“One of you entered the study; I suspect it was you,” he declared, pointing the poker directly at the hall porter, “and, after picking the poker up, on the pretext of tending to the fire, you killed him with it.
“Then one of you stayed in the study; I suspect that was you,” stated the detective, turning to the butler, “whilst the other two waited outside, and, after you’d bolted the door from the inside, they broke it down.
“Meanwhile, you used His Lordship’s key to open the safe and remove the jewellery, which I have already found hidden inside the butler’s pantry.”
A most perplexing case, indeed, but not one which was too perplexing for the Great Detective.
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1,838
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Write a story told exclusively through dialogue.
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THE QUOTIDIAN STRUGGLE
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“Amazing to think, truly, how dark it gets in a place like this.”“Yeah, I guess it’s not something you really think about. Not until the power goes out, at least.”“I must confess a slight fascination with elevators. Grew up in an insignificant little hamlet, you see. No building over three stories in the entire town, I’d wager.”“Delightful.”“Didn’t ride in my first elevator until after I’d moved away...moved away from my brood and taken a bride at the ripe age of nineteen.”“Hm. Fascinating.”“Ah. Apologies. I find myself doing that, you know. Slipping into tales from the past. Though, sometimes all we have of a singular someone are the memories. And those remembrances—persistent buggers that they are—tend to drop in at unexpected moments.”“Sure. It’s no problem, I guess.”“Well, listen to me prattle on. I have to assume this isn’t where you expected to find yourself at 3:15 on a Tuesday afternoon.”“Right. You can’t see me right now, but know I’m nodding slowly in agreement.”“After settling into the city, I once worked as an elevator operator, you know.”“You don’t say.”“How did I find the job? Well, it had its ups and downs.”“Brilliant.”“Oh, I take no offense. My lovely wife held my jokes in similar esteem.”“A true knee-slapper, that one.”“Merely hoping to lighten the mood. This predicament ever happen to you in the past, madam?”“Never been trapped in an elevator before, no.”“Oh, don’t use a word like that. Trapped. So...defeatist.”“Huh. You have a better one?”“Temporarily...inconvenienced. Yes. A brief lapse in our everyday life of modern comforts. A transitory state of discommode.”“You do this often?”“By ‘this,’ you mean...”“Police how others speak?”“Ah. Deepest apologies. I’m an English professor at the university, you see. Words are my currency, madam.”“Right.”“I’d like to think I carry some burden upon my metaphorical shoulders, upholding the proper use of the vernacular.”“Yeah. Please know I’m saluting you right now. Thank you, sir, for your service.”“Gloriously acerbic, I assure you, but please understand I had a sincere motive in ‘policing’ you. Defeatist, negative thinking is something I view as a modern day blight. Understand, I was once like you, Miss...”“Miss Doesn’t Give My Name Out to Strangers, sir. Honor to make your acquaintance.”“Oh, charmed. But I fear your waggish façade hides a cold heart. One that’s grown far too cynical for such a young age.”“Yeah, that’s cute.”“May I ask what I said that’s so amused you?”“Hey, no offense, but do you really think there’s a difference between a cynic and a realist in today’s world?”“See, madam, every cynic in every age viewed himself as a realist. And I was once one of them. I looked at the world outside the window; saw the graft, the abuses of power, the quotidian struggle to escape an ever-accelerating hamster wheel of tedium.”“Us less enlightened folks call it the daily grind.”“And was it even less of a grind for a serf, toiling away at his fields in medieval Europe? The quarry workers and masons who constructed the pyramids? Do you think a peasant fisherman boarding his humble boat every daybreak never had these thoughts, watching the sunrise reflect on the waters of the Katsura?”“And that should cheer me up?”“Do you doubt they would trade their most valued possession to live as we do? For the largest struggle of their day to be a temporary disruption in a convenience once undreamed of?”“Right. I should be thrilled when something that’s supposed to work...doesn’t.”“Perhaps you should find gratitude that it exists at all?”“Sure. So you had this epiphany one day and it just changed your entire way of thinking?”“Oh, these are sentiments I would hear with some regularity, being married to the Department of History’s senior professor. She’d offer a wider perspective to temper my rantings over broken springs on toasters and loose rearview mirrors on Buicks. And, perhaps for a few brief moments, I appreciated the wisdom.”“But that ‘quotidian struggle’ continued, huh?”“An effort was made to concede her point. But I carried with me a dull knowledge that carpets always need cleaning, that dogs always require walking.”“Well, if you’d taken care of that second one first, maybe the carpet could’ve stayed clean.”“Ha! Fair enough. But, yes, her words carried much truth, though were perhaps too...abstract to fight against the prosaic disappointments of the day. Yes, intellectually, I was aware my concerns pale in the face of a migrant worker uncertain if his family will go to bed hungry again tonight. But, in the moment, when the lid lackadaisically attached to my morning premium roast by an indifferent drive-thru employee slips free, and my unsuspecting lap is greeted with fresh coffee....keeping a heart filled with gratitude was difficult.”“If only you had a stranger hovering over you, lecturing you not to submit to those dark thoughts.”“The darkness is always there, miss. But, years ago, I began to appreciate it was merely a shadow. And shadows can’t exist without light. Something I realized far later than my fair spouse would’ve preferred. The last thing we spoke of. A moment forever etched in memory. See, it was the final day she—”“Uh, listen, I appreciate you killing the time, but I’m not sure if this is something I really need to hear.”“Hah! Oh, excuse me for laughing, but is there a puritanical side hiding behind this cynical exterior?”“...what?”“Divorce, dearest. I would’ve assumed any taboo surrounding the topic disappeared after the Gipper won the presidency.”“Ah, I...what?”“Our last argument, miss. My lovely was quite frustrated with my demeanor. Told me she couldn’t find happiness with a man unwilling to appreciate the beauty of a spring day. One prone to wallow in the petty vexations of long bank lines and unresponsive television remotes. Well, more accurately, she stated she was sick of my ‘piss-pot attitude’ and ‘perpetual kvetching over some stupid nonsense or the other.’”“Oh. Harsh.”“Perhaps it’s my own form of contrarianism. My attempt to prove her wrong, you see. If only to prove I could, I sought the larger perspective she was so fond of championing—trained myself to appreciate, say, the utility and comfort my Oxfords had provided for only a fraction of my daily income. The complicated production and supply chain, developed over the course of decades, which existed solely to offer me goods at a reasonable price.”“Yeah. Gotta love those supply chains.”“Yes, yes. The soles wore thin far sooner than I would’ve liked, and I found myself wasting much of my lunch hour at the nearest department store looking for a new pair. My exact size was out of stock, so I had to settle for another brand. Some clueless oaf preoccupied with their phone attempted to cut in line. And the teenage clerk carried the stink of cannabis on her clothing, refusing any eye contact as she swiped my card and slapped my purchase into the bag.”“Oh, but I’m sure it didn’t get you down.”“Merely a part of learning the lesson. Learning to appreciate the beauteous song of a wood thrush perched upon a blossoming cherry tree...even as I’m walking past a boor too indolent to clean up after the mutt attached to his leash. Appreciating the padding of my feet against the pavement, in these final years of my scrawny limbs remaining ambulatory.”“She’d be proud of her ex, I bet.”“I’d like to think so. Embarrassing to think how long I lived in the dark, even as I had someone prodding me to see the light. She’s moved on now. Started a new life with a motivational speaker, I’ve heard. Me? I pay homage to my estranged sweetie in my own way.”“Passing on the wisdom, huh?”“Well, a peculiar distribution of electricity in this building helps. I’d discovered it one day while visiting a podiatrist on the fourth floor. Every Tuesday at 3:15 this lift goes dark for precisely six minutes.”“Ah, and then, suddenly the lights go back on.”“Too obvious a metaphor?”“Nah, subtlety’s overrated, I say. There’s one small facet of daily life—something I’ve overlooked for so long—you’ve helped me to appreciate.”“Really?”“One thing I’ll cherish for the rest of my life, I’ve gotta say.”“Splendid! Might I ask what this is?”“Just the greatest unacknowledged gift of them all...”Ding.“...solo elevator rides.”
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7,844
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Halfway through a fierce competition, your character is given the opportunity to cheat their way to victory: do they take it?
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THE THIRTY YEAR GUILT
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It is not often that I get nervous, but then it had been a long time since I sat waiting to be interviewed. I looked up at the others in the room, as I turned the page, of the only magazine available. I assumed these busy beavers were the staff. Glancing back, I stared at the picture on the page; it was of a young girl with a pretty smile. I did not read the blurb so I did not know whether it was an article or an advert, I simply stared at the photo, mesmerised. The young girl could be no more than ten. She wore a long frock and was holding a puppy. Where had I seen her? When was it? Why was I so disturbed by it? I still had a while to go before my interview so until someone called me in, I could just let my thoughts wander. I did not know what to expect, indeed I wondered whether or not this would be a prize waste of time. Little did I know what was coming. The receptionist called over to me;
“Excuse me are you Shona Wilmott?”
“Yes.”
“Donna...um Mrs Baxter apologises they are running late, but you are next.”
Ah yes, it was Donna Baxter who sent the invitation. Then it hit me. It was Donna or her daughter in the picture. It was Donna’s smile, Donna’s fair shoulder-length hair, that kinked into a curl, whereas mine, rich dark and boyishly short was neither fashionable nor pretty, at least not now.
Donna. It was unlikely it would be the same Donna. We were forced into friendship as children, our families travelled an immigrant ship bound for Melbourne, Australia. Our parents got on famously; a friendship built on common circumstance and respect but not necessarily depth developed, though short in duration.
Though Donna and I were about the same age, we were very different from each other. I could climb all things and anything, she could hardly walk. We never knew what caused the limp, her parents protected her and my Mum and Dad followed suit. I thought back smiling. Could it really be close to thirty years? Yes, it had to be, it was the late sixties when we arrived at Port Melbourne. How life had changed; from 4 cent local stamps and aerogrammes to dial-up phones in the cold hall, compared with today’s emails and mobile phones as heavy as lead, and not as reliable.
It was prior to the hippy era, where love obedience and correction were a part of life, irrespective of health or wealth. Mum and Aunt Min did not need to whack, that Scottish look of disapproval was usually enough to send all thoughts of disobedience packing. That said life would have been a lot easier for me; bold as brass, indifferent to criticism, but Donna, possibly because of her circumstances, was quiet and determined. I thought back smiling.
The door opened, a young woman beckoned me to enter, her smile cool and reserved. She left me standing at the door.
“Come in.” it was a Scottish voice. I looked across to the owner of the voice.
“Oh, Pickles.” I thought as I looked at the older version of Donna Maxwell as she was.
“Shona.” Donna smiled then did a double-take “I’m just waiting on Steve to come in, please sit down. Would you like a coffee?” she smiled again “do I know you from...” she turned as the door reopened.
“Ah, Steve,”
A man in his mid-forties entered the office; if I had looked away for a moment, I would have missed that look between them.
Steve came over to me offering his hand.
“Shona is it?” he asked “lovely to meet you. I see you have the company magazine in your hand.”
I nodded thinking “you fool this was your opportunity to read about them.”
As though she was mind reading, Donna asked
“How much did you read, Shona?”
“To be honest Mrs Baxter, I got distracted. I realise now, it would have been a good opportunity to learn something but it offers you the opportunity to tell me what I should know, about the company and of course the job.”
“Quite.” said Steve dryly. “oh, by the way, we go by first names here, Shona.” he referred to his notes.
“May I go first dear?” he asked
Donna nodded, still looking at me quizzically.
“Well as you have gathered this is a family business.” began Steve. “as I was a naval engineer the ‘mechanics’ and technology of the merchandise is something I coordinate and Donna is the marketing and public relations expert, therefore you would be reporting to her.”
I cringed nodding my head politely
The phone rang. Steve looked at Donna then back at me
“Oh, I’m expecting this will you excuse me?” I nodded, he picked the receiver up and spoke
“Steven Baxter.” he was listening intently, I was clenching and unclenching my hands and Donna still could not work out where she had seen me before.
“Right I will have our receptionist send them over.” he looked at Donna “I will be back in a jiffy.” then to me “perhaps Donna can...” he left in a hurry carrying a folder of papers.
“Shona you look familiar where did I meet you before?” it was blunt, cautious and a little unnerving.
“On the migrant ship, I believe,” I answered looking straight at her. Recognition at last.
“Shona Morgan! well, I never,” there was no smile “tell me something about yourself. It’s okay, I will fill Steve in when he returns.”
“Well you know my age.” it did not get a smile either “I trained as a librarian, married, then moved to a new district. I set up a book shop which I had for ten years, during which time I had our son, but when my husband passed away, I sold the business to work with a local engineering company.”
“Are you still there? It is unclear on your resume.”
“No, I was retrenched.” why did I say that?
The door had opened Steve had caught the last bit.
“Why, were you cheating?” Steve was laughing.
I knew Donna was looking at me. Mortified, I half-smiled. Once more the memories returned. This was not going well.
We had gone to the same school Donna and I, though in different classes. She was the scholar, I could tell that because her head was always stuck in a book, even at lunchtime, I was always tree climbing, taking a delight in throwing acorns, leaves, unripe fruit, in short, whatever was at hand down on some unsuspecting head. I once heard Aunt Min refer to me as a ‘wee monkey’; literal or metaphorical it appealed to me. The truth was I was always jealous of Donna. Mum watched me one day and told me it was time I looked after Donna as a friend, not the enemy, but I had other ideas. Later that week, on the way home, we walked through the park. I suggested we have a race. Reluctantly Donna agreed. I stood fractionally behind, giving her a head start, in deference to her mobility issues I yelled:
“Ready, Steady, GO”
She was off, I held back. She was gaining momentum I could not have that, the snivelling brat. Using the grass to my advantage, I sneaked beside her, from behind, put my left hand on her chest barricading her, and, pushing past her, ran to the supposed finishing line. While I gloated Donna had fallen and started to cry. Yet instead of asking why I had done this, the coward just accepted what I did without complaint. Still, the memory haunted me. Donna was looking at me
I still felt guilty so I spoke, thinking I had nothing to lose.
“Donna, do you remember the park race, I suggested?” she nodded smirking “Mum was not impressed; she whacked my tail and without ceremony ushered me to the bedroom. My dinner was served there, main meal and water only, instead of milk or orange juice.”
Donna laughed heartily “Good served you right, I hope that was a lesson.” she laughed again.
“Were you alright?”
“Goodness yes.” she answered “Don’t forget until you cheated, I was winning. Oh, I did have surgery later on, so, no more limp. Hence the reason we make invalid aides, and you better not try that race trick again. I know your little games; I’ll wager they not have altered much” she wagged her finger, in a teasing gesture.
“Steve?” Donna beckoned him as he came back to his seat.
“Yes dear,” he smiled “you have made a decision, I take it.”
“Oh, absolutely Shona is ideal.”
“Eh?” I said
“Well we are even I cheated just now. Steve spoke to your former manager. There was such a glowing report of exemplary behaviour, why would we let you go to someone else unless you have other plans?”
I looked at Steve who laughed.
“I don’t get it?” I said.
“We make our own choices Shona, but we do ask for references.” Steve answered, “meanwhile anyone who feels guilty about a childish prank she performed thirty years back, is hardly likely to repeat the performance.”
I started to laugh.
“Do you accept our offer?”
I nodded relief washing over me
“Welcome aboard.” they chorused
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682
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Write a story that weaves together multiple lives through their connection to a particular tree.
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THE WEAVING OF TREES
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"Quite a while past, there carried on an individual who consistently attempted to help individuals of his town.
"At the point when the older folks could presently don't chase for themselves, he would bring them food.
"A youthful couple getting hitched could depend on him to help make their tipi shafts and accumulate the shrouds expected to cover their hotel.
"On the off chance that a youngster's family was executed, he would take that kid in and raise it as his own.
"Furthermore, there were a lot more great deeds he played out that nobody knew about, in light of the fact that he never looked for acclaim or consideration for his activities. Consistently he stayed caution to how he could deal with assistance his clan, and he did as such with agreeability and energy.
"Numerous years passed by along these lines and meanwhile the Creator watched this man and observed his excellencies.
"Finally, when the man's hair had gone to snow, and the days ahead were turning out to be less, the Creator thought, 'Every one of these years I've watched him help my kin. I could utilize somebody like him to assist constantly. I will deify him.'
"So the Creator transformed the man into a cedar tree."
Bear Heart proceeded:
"There are numerous utilizations for cedar — it stays green all year, so it very well may be accumulated and dried whenever. Copying dried cedar on coals makes smoke and we can supplicate with that smoke — it conveys our petitions up to the Heavens.
"At the point when kids are anxious in a home, torching cedar quiets them.
"At the point when you simply don't feel excessively useful for barely any explanation whatsoever, you can consume cedar in your home and you'll feel much improved. The cedar definitely understands what's expected to bring amicability since he was a man who realized how to help individuals.
"So that is the narrative of cedar. He was a man once."
The Judean Date Tree is antiquated types of date palm. It is so antiquated that they reference it in the Quran and the Bible. I said it to contain solid restorative properties that verged on marvelous and could fix tuberculosis and malignancy. It was likewise the staple food hotspot for the Kingdom of Judea. Lamentably, this stunning tree went ended, presumably because of the appeal put on it.
In the 1960s, some Judean Date seeds were found during an archeological unearthing of Masada, an antiquated fortification on the Dead Sea. Researchers chose to endeavor to grow the seeds and gave them to a plant expert at the Arava Institute of the Environment in Kibbutz Ketura, Israel.
The seeds were planted subsequent to being pre-treated with chemical arrangements and manure. Marvelously, one of the seeds developed and was named Methuselah, an individual from the Bible who was the most established individual alive around then. In 2011, the tree bore its first blossom and keeps on flourishing. Specialists accept the tree will prove to be fruitful by 2022.
A giant, 1500 year old Boab tree grows in Derby, Australia. The tree itself is an amazing sight, but the history of it is fascinating. It was said to have been used as a jail to hold Australian Aborigines until they could be sentenced by the local court and placed in a more permanent jail cell. An expedition of anthropologists photographed the tree in 1916 and documented that the Aborigines used the hollow trunk of the tree for burial rituals.
Another Boab tree in Wyndham, Australia was also used as a jail. An article from 1931 stated that as many as 30 prisoners at a time were held in the hollow trunk of this giant Boab tree, but there has been no documentation found that would prove this to be true.
The tree Shajarat-al-Hayat, or “the tree of life” is aptly named. It stands alone in the middle of the desert in Bahrain and has done so for more than 400 years. There is no water source or other plants for miles. Temperatures in the region can reach 114 degrees (F) in the summer and average yearly rainfall is less than 3 inches!
Locals believe the tree is guarded by the God of water, Enki. There is also a legend that says the trees sits on the sight of the Garden of Eden. However, scientists say that the tree is able to stay alive in this arid landscape due to having an extremely long tap root that reaches deep down into ground water. Whatever the reason, the fact that this tree has lived so long in this location is truly miraculous!
There is an Oak tree in Athens, GA that is the proud owner of the property it grows on. How can a tree own property? Well, the story goes like this:
In the early 1800’s, a professor at the University of Georgia, Colonel William H. Jackson, gave ownership of the tree and the land within 8 feet on all sides of it, to the tree itself! A marker beside the tree quotes the Professor as saying, “For and in consideration of the great love I bear this tree and the great desire I have for its protection, for all time, I convey entire possession of itself and all land within eight feet of the tree on all sides”.
Sadly, the original owner (tree) that Colonel Jackson so loved, was blown down during a storm in the 1940’s. But, the progeny of this great Oak, a sapling grown from one of its acorns, was planted where its parent once stood and is now the proud owner of the spot. Even though the tree stands alone, it isn’t lonely. It gets quite a few visitors every year.
Another oak tree in Southeastern United States also has a fascinating story to tell. The tree is named after Charles Boyington, a printer who moved to Mobile, Alabama in 1833, who quickly gained notoriety as a gambler who was always looking for a way to earn some fast cash.
One night in May, 1834, Charles and his friend, Nathaniel Frost, were seen walking through the Church Street Graveyard on the edge of Mobile. The next day, Nathaniel was found dead in the cemetary. Of course, Charles quickly became the suspect, was arrested, found guilty with little actual evidence, and sentenced to hang. He continued to proclaim his innocence up to the moment of his execution. Just before his hanging, he claimed that, to prove his innocence, an oak tree would grow from his heart after his death.
Sure enough, years later, an oak tree grew out of his grave and still stands to this very day. Local folklore says that the tree is haunted by Charles’ restless spirit. It’s said you can hear Charles announcing his innocence as his voice whispers in the wind through the branches of the trees. Needless to say, the tree is popular with ghost hunters.
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6,409
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Write about a date that was so terrible you’ll never forget it.
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TIME FOR US
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As I stepped out of the pool, I noticed a young man speaking to my mother's best friend Joanna Miller. Walking, hurriedly toward the table where my mother sat reading the morning newspaper, I tripped over a lounge chair. Strong hands caught me around my waist, as I turned to thank the person responsible for breaking my fall." You may thank me by going out to dinner with me Saturday night," by the way my name`s Andrew Moeen." " Yes,! I would love to, before I revealed who I am, Laura Lambert. His dark black curly hair complimented his big brown eyes and mesmerized me like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. There was no notice of anyone or anything but us as we felt the warmth of the sun on our skin.We exchanged phone numbers, and parted ways after talking for hours. I was so excited to share this with my best friend, Jenasyn, spending time together deciding what I would be wearing on my first date. It would only enter my mind later in the week, I had not asked permission from my mother. I was sure I knew everything at age fifteen.My emotions were like a kaleidoscope of brilliant, vivid colors bursting in the view finder in shades of red, gold, and teal. We had met on Tuesday morning, now there were only three more days until the date. Jenasyn and I had ditched riding bus #20 to walk by the mall on our way home living in the same subdivision Autumn Falls. Day dreaming encompassed us as we laughed and giggled oblivious to the time. Late afternoon shadows indicated it was later than we knew, two hours had passed from the time the bus traveled by our bus route.Loud music drifted down the hallway from Jenasyn's bedroom. Her record player blared, "Girls just want to have fun, " by Cyndi Lauper. In the kitchen, Janeen brought a larger bowl from the cabinet, to the microwave to bring more popcorn to her friends. The slumber party involved lots of activity with little sleep occurring this Friday night.Janeen was in charge of hair and nails. Jenasyn was in the role of clothing designer , supplied with blouses, slacks, uplifting bras and panties from Victoria's Secret a lingerie store at the mall. My role was to sit quietly while they worked their magic. Having plenty of time, for the upcoming date on Saturday night. Occasionally, I found myself nodding off, my body welcoming a peaceful repose. Unfortunately, the curlers wound tightly all about my head prevented that possibility.The finished process revealed this: big heavily hair sprayed feathered hairstyle, make- up includes blue-green eye-shadow with mascara black outline, then foundation applied, completed with bright cherry red lipstick. Clothing attire consists of lacey black bra and panties, full flowing bold print of geometric design, black jacket with big shoulder pads. Next the stirrup pants are black in color, a gold glittering belt to emphasize the petite waistline. Finally, stepping into high heeled sandals. Oops, one accessory is missing , the big gold loop earrings, lastly added light pink nail polish. Weary each of us pleased with ourselves drift off just before five in the morning.On Saturday my friends would join me at my house to apply make-up before Andrew's arrival. My teenage dream team would stay to watch as we departed into the unknown. Actually, my mother was working late, knowing nothing of what was about to take place and happen. Andrew held the car door open for me, as I sat in his new Camaro, he"d been given on his birthday.My mother was not with us, although she might as well have been. Nervously, I felt my self perspiring, the deodorant failed to follow through on these commercial claims. Andrew attempted to start a conversation numerous times, my only response was to take a sip of water to clear my dry mouth. If that wasn't enough clumsily my elbow knocks over his water glass spilling down his member only jacket, next spilled sweet tea cascading a stream of rivulets onto his stone washed pair of jeans. Quicky, as he removes his jacket then flees to the restroom. My increasing anxiety was heightened after his lengthy retreat into the restroom, he returns smiling and in a calm condition to our table.This reaction instead of relaxing me has the opposite effect. For one thing it is not natural. We move for .giving the server our order in awkward silence. After what seems to be an eternity, our meal is presented. Frowning, I ask Andrew to explain this particular dish he ordered for the two of us. Andrew eagerly relates to me this is a dish served with frog legs. "Gross ", I say not caring he shared this dish with his father. I promptly retch and vomit. Bolting towards the entrance door. Spotting my grandparents close by I ride home with them trying to forget what I just witnessed. On the ride home, John and Mary Lambert were delighted to have some time with their grand daughter. On the ride home we shared how the summer is flying by and how this winter they would be traveling to Florida to spend the winter months there. As we neared my home, I gave them both a kiss on the cheek and promised to visit soon.Home again I reflected on something my mom reminded me of often. She told me she would consider double dating when I was sixteen. After the dreadful date tonight, perhaps going to the skating rink with my date and another couple a couple of months from now. Hearing the door latch turn and mom calling my name seemed so right, for right now.Years later I sit on my front porch enjoying the breathtaking view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. For a few moments of peacefulness before my world awakens. Memories transport me to that long ago time when my mother frequently proved how overprotective she could be. Her love for me was powerful, still is.Gently, my husband places a kiss on the nape of my neck. He hand me our three month old daughter, Julianna Jenasyn. Her first name was a keepsake from my mom. Her middle name is also a keepsake from my best friend Jenasyn. Affectionately, our darling girl has always been known as J.J. My hard working husband will be opening an attorney's office with an older attorney nearly as driven to excel as my dear husband, Jonathan. On the beautiful copper sign it reads Michael Yarbourough above with Jonathan Jacobson right underneath. Recently, moved to a historic district in Abingdon, VA. Today, the plan this morning is, to walk on the Virginia Creeper trail., to learn more about our surroundings and this beautiful old town. Love brightens the pathway of life. Each new day is a gift.
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