ZeroAnd09

I got a request to write. So, I wrote. _________________________________________________________________________________ “Hey there, you sexy bitch!” “You can’t say that.” “Why not? I thought it always needed to start with an attention grabber.” “It does, but not like that. They asked for a story. It’s unlikely they’ll react kindly to being called a bitch right off the bat.”

The prompt for the month was this photo.  Here is what I came up with.

Another month and another prompt.  This prompt will be a link, because of spoilers.  So if you don't want to spoil the story, don't click the link. PROMPT “Who is that man there?” bellowed the giant as he sat. “Keep your voice down, you damned fool!” hissed his smaller counterpart. 

The prompt for this month was "All Hands In".  I had a very hard time coming up with something for this.   --- The storm outside raged and howled.  It was the deafening crack of thunder that woke me from my troubled slumber.  With the flash of violet light still painting the stone walls, I jolted upright in a panic.  Sweat dripped from my worried brow as I looked around the stark room, trying to remember where I was.  My shaking hand tugged at the soaked fabric of my shirt, absent-mindedly rubbing at the sore spot on my chest.  The salt-infused liquid seeped through bandages and into the ragged open wound on my palm.

(This month's writing prompt was this picture.) Dusk came quickly on the coast.  In a few brief minutes, the brilliance of the sunset bathed the shores and the houses lining it in a golden radiance that rivaled Heaven itself.  Just as quickly, the awe-inspiring display of light would disappear with only the final dying embers of the sun dancing off the waves, reflecting for moments before being snuffed out by the twilight.  The salt-infused air of the sea mingled with the breeze carrying the waves inland to cool the cobblestones that had soaked up the warm rays of the sun a few scant hours prior. 

For the month of October, I will be publishing a choose your own adventure.  Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday will see a new post based on the most popular decision.  The goal is for everyone to reach the end of the story by surviving the month.  Cast your votes by  Straw Poll . Taking the lantern from the backseat of the car, you confidently declare your intent to conquer the ancient halls of Mirewood Manor.  You’ll climb that spire where the Lady Fletch hung from her broken neck and light the lantern as proof.  With the cheers and shocked gasps of your friends lending you renewed strength, you stride past the towering wrought iron gates and down the gravel driveway.

For the month of October, I will be publishing a choose your own adventure.  Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday will see a new post based on the most popular decision.  The goal is for everyone to reach the end of the story by surviving the month.  Cast your votes by replying on the post itself, Facebook, Twitter, or Straw Poll . The tale of Mirewood Manor was well known throughout town well before your birth.  While it may have had some roots in factual, worldly events, time has a way of twisting and perverting the truth.  By the time you heard it on your first camping trip all those years ago, several decades had passed, but your friends held their collective breath right along with you.

Babies.  Babies are great.  Tiny human beings created from the collision of sweaty, frothy genitals.  They are the apple of our eyes, our pride and joy, and our sole biological reason for existing.  They are also our wardens on sanity and the new time keepers for sleep.  They constantly demand attention.  While humans as a whole are selfish beings, we’re never more demanding than when we’re infants.  “Feed me!  Pace the hall for hours until I fall asleep!  Figure out the puzzle of how my liquid shit has breached every seal of this diaper even though you swore it was nice and tight!  Repeat this process several times over with only a few hours of sleep!”

When the leaves turned and began their slow deathly descent to the ground, that is when they came.  Through the rolling mists and under the encompassing cover of night they came.  We knew not whence they came or their purpose.  We only knew to barricade the doors with strong oaken boards and light the jack-o-lanterns.  Those who failed to heed the warnings would be drug from their homes with horrified wails of unearthly terror.  Terrible talons and gnashing teeth would tear at their flesh and rend it from bone while we listened on. That is where the tradition began.  Those who carved the pumpkins with ancient runes and lit them with the fire of our ancestors were safe.  For hundreds of years we had lived like this.  Beyond this one awful night we lead ordinary, pleasant lives.  But this night always came.  It always returned like a bad dream, wrapping up the village in its brutal embrace. In the week prior, we had carved our...

Isaac was working his way down an alley.  It was the middle of the night.  The clouds obscured what little moonlight there was.  It didn’t matter as his helmet had night vision built in.  It bathed the world in an eerie green glow, but allowed him to survive when others had stumbled blindly into the clawed arms of death.  He was heading towards the space port.  Hopefully there would be a ship that he could salvage so he could get off this miserable planet. Just then, something moved in his peripheral vision.  He stopped and checked his weapon.  The clip was fresh and the safety was off.  He did a quick scan of the alley as he inched forward.  There were dumpsters lined along the wall on his left and garbage strewn everywhere.  Isaac could see the end of the alley 20 meters ahead.  He picked up his pace when something fell from the roof in front of him. It screamed and slammed into him with enough impact to knock the wind out ...

Original date: 11-1-2005 Staring in the mirror was a face Billy Bo Jenkins didn't recognize. It was buck toothed with a lazy eye and a tuft of red hair on top of an otherwise oily head. The lined face showed the stress and age of an old man, but this couldn't be...he was just a nine year old girl. Sure her mom was inbred, but they all said she'd dodged the bullet. She had all fifteen teeth and a third buttock just like a normal girl. Why old Jimmy had been after her since the day he laid those misshapen eyes on her.But none of that mattered now, she was a he. His uncle was really his mother and a terrible dresser at that. No one ever said puberty would be like this. What would he do for the ho down later this week? Even Jimmy wouldn't take him like this...(this is called dramatic build up)...what would Papa say? ...to be continued

Original date: 11-14-2005 Well, Billy Bo never made it to that square dance. On the way there she/he was picked up by some trucker that went by the handle of "Russell", poor thing was never heard from again. The town didn't think much of it, they were going to lynch the abomination next Tuesday after their Heaven's Gate meeting. Some things in this world just weren't right. I mean birthing a child with and arm growing out of its forehead is one thing, but changing sexes in one night? Not in their county.So I'm finally 21 and I'm not seeing what the commotion is all about. Just another year tacked on to something phenomenal but we're not sure why yet. But there is something about having a restaurant full of people singing to you that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. Like in the darkest of hearts there is a desire to be the center of attention, even if it's only 23 seconds long. Nothing really grand, but enough. I just wish they hadn...

Original date: 5-10-2005 The boy sits there thinking, looking at his ceiling, wondering if she's gonna call. That pale yellow light used to give that sense of warmth he was always longing for, but now the bulb wants to shatter like his heart. It never rains anymore, he doesn't care. It's that hot muggy night, the one where you lie naked on cool sheets. He remembers her face and voice, but wonders if the heat is clouding his memory. Some things he can't remember quite clearly, some things he wishes he could forget. The girl came in so fast, like a sudden storm on a small town. She left him no room, wanted all of him. But quick as she came, she was gone again, leaving a mess of him once more. You could say he loved her, was in love with her. But then again you could say a lot of things about the boy. Didn't really matter if it was all true or not, it still kept the folks in town talkin. They were gonna get married, in that big cathedral on the hill. It ...

Original date: 5-11-2005 She wasn't as silly as people would like to believe. In her world she was revered and the boy was mocked. She did him a service and honor by holding his hand on those lonesome nights. It's not like she didn't enjoy the boy, he was just an excuse to kill time. Friends are first, she always believed, boys just stay as play things. Sure, they'd had fun together, but it was no big thing to her, it never was. She was out in the warm night air, a soothing breeze gently blowing her perfect hair. The carnival was in town, so the girls abandoned their nightly rituals for the more macabre and uncommon fun. Filled with harlequins and prizes to be won, the carnival boasted its impressive light display, sure to draw in any passer-by. She wished it could never end, the crazed nights and cloudy mornings. She had everything a girl could want, she never went without. Looking skyward, she could count the stars, a very uncommon thing to her. Such thi...

Original date: 5-19-2005 The boy knew it wouldn’t make a difference. A date with the grave was all he had left. He was mistaken in thinking that hope could be his. Life only got worse. Sure, they would say he was weak and gave in, but then was no different from now. Everything was falling to ruins, thought the boy. He had thought about going somewhere new, to some place where they didn’t know his name. But he lacked the resources to do any such thing. And after what was done tonight, he would have no place to go but the grave.  The boy was quiet as always, he never wanted to let his plans get away from him. That night they were invited to the cathedral on the hill. It was a quiet, still night, the moon was full and lit the earth below with an eerie glow. It was the kind of night where you could see monsters appear out of the shadows. There was a slight breeze, one that kept the air stirred. Nothing was stale here; there was no chance for it to be, though everyone mo...

Original date: 6-22-2005 The pen of an angry sinner is what I hold in my hand. Filled with both shame and pride I plummet to my end. I'm not afraid of my demise, I rush towards it with youthful joy. I wish I could see the smiles at my funeral. I wish I could feel the warm embraces, the joyful exchanges of my death. Drop my body in a casket or burn its damned existence. Crown my infernal existence and spurn my hate filled corpse. The mists of the afterlife cloud my vision. In one eye I can see the past, in the other, the present. It feels like I'm living a bad dream that I can't wake up from. Someone please wake me...make me feel something real. There's a white noise that constantly pounds my ears. It breaks my soul, keeps me locked down. With a halo of razor wire and shredded wings, I'll come to her in a dream. I'll hold her hand and ask her to come with me. We can run away, we can be happy. She'll always say "no." She'll sta...

Original date: 8-10-2005 I don't know why I'm doing this, no one reads this garbage anyways. Regardless, I received a letter from a rather warm and lovely individual who wanted to see this updated. So now I sit here, dog on the love seat, thinking desperately of what on earth I could write. I've learned of a story recently, one of such a warm and familiar topic it is a small delight to write about, love and death. There is a certain angel, an archangel even, who was given a large responsibility. Given command over a third of the angels, he would be a great leader in the times of revelation. Before hand, he is said to be the angel of divine judgement and vengeance. He is the fourth archangel, known as Uriel. Held in the same company as Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael, he was one of the Lord God's mightiest soldiers. As it would seem, after spending so much time with humans and coming to their aid as a divine protector, he longed to feel love the way mortals coul...

Original Date: 9-21-2005 Bloody fucking Canadian vampires. They just got in an arms shipment from the Canadian government in return for a rather unpleasant favor against the Finnish Yeti. It was with these new high-powered rifles that we were being hunted. Hunted for no reason other than the lust of blood.  The couple had arrived in town a week earlier, just starting off their honeymoon. It was to be a secluded break in the heavily forested mountains of northern Canada. They stayed in a small village that understood quite well the need for privacy, because everyone knows, tiny Canadian villages hold the best secrets. West of the village was the dark secret that loomed over their heads. It was a castle of the Nobility, a vampire refuge. Not one creature, be it animal or man, ventured half a mile close to that castle. Those that did, never returned.  Myself, I arrived just before the couple to investigate these rumored vampires. I'm what you would call a hunter o...