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Sykotik
|
t3_datsv
|
WritingPrompts
|
c0ytm0f
| 1,283,900,577
|
t3_datsv
|
I have [this place,](http://www.reddit.com/r/chooseyouradventure/) but it's kinda different. If you like I'll submit a link submission to this reddit.
| 2
| null |
[deleted]
|
t1_c0ytm0f
|
WritingPrompts
|
c0yu0zu
| 1,283,908,689
|
t3_datsv
|
Thanks For The Link!
| 1
| null |
gradyp73
|
t3_dbdja
|
WritingPrompts
|
c0z29fh
| 1,284,102,161
|
t3_dbdja
|
A mall, park, coffee shop, or restaurants are other great places to go to people watch.
Oh, and listen for conversation snippets too. You never know when an overheard snippet will spark a plot or subplot idea (or even character).
| 2
| null |
lngwstksgk
|
t1_c0z29fh
|
WritingPrompts
|
c0z2hgw
| 1,284,112,997
|
t3_dbdja
|
Agreed. Eavesdropping can be wonderfully productive.
| 1
| null |
SeditiousBroom
|
t3_dchgk
|
WritingPrompts
|
c0z6448
| 1,284,217,234
|
t3_dchgk
|
Good luck. You can do it. ^_^
| 1
| null |
SeditiousBroom
|
t3_datw2
|
WritingPrompts
|
c0z64bc
| 1,284,217,421
|
t3_datw2
|
I wish to add an optional bit to this prompt/ challenge, if I may.
One of Jasper Fforde's funny bits in The Well of Lost Plots is something along the lines of: Almost no one ever writes about breakfast, and few ever write about lunch. All we hear about are dinners.
So try writing a breakfast, brunch, lunch, or snack scene to fit the OP's parameters.
| 2
| null |
SeditiousBroom
|
t1_c0ytm0f
|
WritingPrompts
|
c0z64g9
| 1,284,217,540
|
t3_datsv
|
A choose-your-own-adventure subreddit! Brilliant.
Thank you for making me aware and the link.
| 2
| null |
Bizurke
|
t3_dbdja
|
WritingPrompts
|
c0zcgry
| 1,284,399,010
|
t3_dbdja
|
I honestly can not believe I haven't thought of this in the past. Thank you for the suggestion.
| 1
| null |
gradyp73
|
t3_dddx4
|
WritingPrompts
|
c0zouj7
| 1,284,670,429
|
t3_dddx4
|
Great idea for creating a character! I'll have to try that as I need a few characters for a new story I'll be writing in November ;)
| 1
| null |
lngwstksgk
|
t1_c0zouj7
|
WritingPrompts
|
c0zovvq
| 1,284,671,074
|
t3_dddx4
|
It's a very strange process. I'm fairly certain that there were even more questions when I first came across the exercise, but I wasn't a very good note-taker back then and I've had to go from memory. Good luck with NaNoWriMo, by the way.
| 1
| null |
[deleted]
|
t3_dcc3r
|
WritingPrompts
|
c10we5w
| 1,285,793,881
|
t3_dcc3r
|
[deleted]
| 1
| null |
lngwstksgk
|
t1_c10we5w
|
WritingPrompts
|
c10wesa
| 1,285,794,172
|
t3_dcc3r
|
Perhaps it unionized?
Seriously, though, thanks for pointing that out. As I have to write too frequently on this site, this is what I get for posting things at 5 a.m.
| 2
| null |
TheDeceiver
|
t3_wz9m4
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5hxpq7
| 1,343,014,373
|
t3_wz9m4
|
He awoke without reason and spent the rest of the day searching for it. He would have changed, but he couldn't find any clothes. He would have left, but he couldn't find a door. Instead, he found a gaping hole leading strait into a barren hallway. He couldn't see the end, but he chased it anyways. Running, watching as lamp after lamp pass him, identical to the one before. No doors were seen, no people were passed, no turn appeared.
The darkness at the end of his vision seemed to be greeting him, slowly creeping the further he ran. Eventually, the young man caught up to it, feeling as big as he ever will. He was there were the hallway ended. Complete space was before him, and he was reluctant to jump.
But he felt a force behind him push him with all his might, forcing his leap of faith. He didn't know where to go, or what he was going on for. He was lost, and time stood still. So many direction, and each one as risky and dangerous. He finaly gained his courage and went his direction, whatever that might be.
He didn't do great, but he did good enough. His freedom was new but frightening, but be this time his clothes dried. He discovered that the longer he headed in only one direction, the harder it was to change.
After along time the man saw something ahead again. It looked like a light, but it was to dim to be sure. Part of him thought it was just his imagination, but he knew not to listen to that part. The problem it was in a different direction, and his rails were holding him in. So he cut them down and chased that glow with all the might he had. I took a long time, but he found the light. It led to a one-dementional hallway again. This time, though, it seemed a bit dimmer and a bit nicer. He was tired and wanted to lie down and he knew he was almost at his room and he ran again. He missed those hallways, the simplicity, the direction. As he ran the hallway became brighter, much brighter than he had ever experienced. He chased and chased for along time until he was almost out of breath, and then he found the door. His suit was wet again from his sweat, and his bed was made for him, and so the old man decided to fall asleep leaving everything behind.
| 3
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5hxpq7
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5hy1k2
| 1,343,015,732
|
t3_wz9m4
|
Very nice. :) just a few grammatical errors but i enjoyed it.
| 1
| null |
TheDeceiver
|
t1_c5hy1k2
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5hy51r
| 1,343,016,138
|
t3_wz9m4
|
It was written via iphone
| 2
| null |
true911
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5i4yjf
| 1,343,058,835
|
t3_wznme
|
"I said move!" he shouted, frightened to find them in his own backyard. But the crowd stood huddled together, remaining still and unmoving. With an unwavering pace, he began stomping his footsteps, to amplify his demeanor and approach. But as he came closer toward the dozen or so vagrants, he caught sight of some movement, hid within the round of their collective feet.
They should have all scattered, at his first hint of approach, but then again he had never before seen more than three or four gather together, clasping hands in this way.
With a pause in his step, he leaned his chin into his right shoulder and reported. "Check that 32. I got a Hub here. Count..." his eyes danced around the enclosed circle of bodies, counting silently with trembling breath. "...count 12 confirmed. Over."
"Why here at my home? Is it not enough, chasing them in the streets?" he thought as he awaited instructions. Despite being so close, he couldn't make out what writhed in the earth where they stood. Emboldened by their vacant expressions and pearly dead eyes, his hungry curiosity coasted him to a creep down onto his knees by their side.
Touching at the black soil with arrested fingers, he was flushed into panic as he unearthed a newborn child.
A hiss in his earpiece returned a reply. "Unit B3. This is 32. Clear the area. Sending extermination unit. Over."
Paternal instinct set him to tear the root-bound fetus from the ground, and run.
| 4
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5i4yjf
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5i5hak
| 1,343,060,816
|
t3_wznme
|
Except for a few grammatical errors, this seems like it'd be the start of a good story. Cheers for being the first to enter! :)
| 5
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t3_wz9m4
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5i5uyf
| 1,343,062,192
|
t3_wz9m4
|
Going to give my own prompt here a go...
The smell of the ocean filled his nose. Jason awoke, but he was disorientated. Was this his bedroom? He couldn't tell. All he could make out were hazy shapes. His vision took a short while to correct itself. His eyes adjusted to this dark room. He felt a cold sensation and noticed his clothes were sopping wet.
He sat up in the bed for what felt like hours trying to collect his thoughts. Where was he? It certainly wasn't anywhere he'd ever been before. How did he get here? He didn't remember anything about his life beyond waking up... and if he couldn't remember anything before then, he thought, how would he know that he had never been in this room before? Nevertheless, he just *felt* that he hadn't.
He swung his feet out of the bed and was about to stand up when he heard a voice over a speaker:
"Careful, agent. You need to stay in that area until transfer."
Jason looked around. Agent? Of what?
"Hello? Who is there? Where am I? You called me an agent? What's that? Can you turn on some lights in here?"
The loudspeaker came on again and the man sighed audibly, as if he was annoyed by Jason.
"Agent, just sit there and be patient. If you get up now, you'll lose your mind. We could restrain you, but we'd prefer not to... because you'll be cross with us later."
"...this is making no sense. What about the lights? I'd like to see where I am."
"I'm afraid that's not yet possible. Your brain wouldn't be able to process the... hold on."
Jason sat there, twiddling his thumbs. He didn't want to follow the instructions of the voice, but he certainly couldn't go stumbling about in the dark. It was at this moment, Jason's wrist started beeping. He looked down and saw a blinking clock embedded just underneath his palm. The numbers were dim but they were like burning beacons in his eyes. This small sliver of light was unbearable to him. His wrist was counting down from ten. As he noticed this, the voice came over the speaker:
"OK, Agent. Please lay down again for the next few seconds."
He did so, automatically. After a few more seconds, Jason felt a tingling sensation all throughout his head. His eyes widened and he gasped audibly. Sensations filled his mind. He went through ten different emotions all within a moment.
Then... recognition.
"You can turn on the lights now. My memories have finally come back." He announced to the empty room.
The lights flicked on and he could see through the glass his friend Nathaniel, beaming.
"This is why I hate doing missions in the deep sea, Nat." Jason sniffed. "The lag time between body teleportation and mind teleportation is excruciating."
"Sorry, Jason." Nathaniel replied over the speaker. "You knew when you took the mission that the particles get distorted in the waters and it's harder to reconstitute you here. Hell, you're lucky your mind even came back to you."
Jason laughed.
"Who knew that the consciousness was an actual tangible thing? I'm telling you, teleportation has helped us understand the human mind just a little bit more. If only the world knew such a technology existed."
| 1
| null |
theythink
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5i8axs
| 1,343,070,586
|
t3_wznme
|
Shit. I remember this from when I was just a youngen, a teen with power, sigh! time does fly.
'Hey Sally come look at what I found, I buried it in the back garden years ago.'.
"What now Tim? I've got to finish clearing Mums room out." chirps sally.
'Look it's my creativy box from way back when we used to mess around in fathers garage, it only took me a week to make.'
'Wow, that's.. well amazing, fuck look - just there, all the detail you put into that peice.'
'I know, quick pass me that magnifying glass from Dads tool box. Aww, look it's got some living creatures on it.'
'What are they?'
'I can't quite remember. In fact I always made a note of everything and taped it to the inside of the box, wait a sec.'
'Ahh yes here we go,'
`Dear Tim of the Future,`
`This is your creativity box, what lies within is a place you called the universe. Two creatures reside within, Humans and Animons, let them develop and provide help when needed.`
'Fuck.'
| 0
| null |
traysledding
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5i8cte
| 1,343,070,767
|
t3_wznme
|
The fading scars left by her first fifteen years in Memphis became immediate the moment she found herself in front of that dilapidated mansion. The house, once grandiloquent antebellum architecture, had decayed in time, the slums swallowing another piece of history. The city was a slow death and escape had been the best, the only option. She could give a fuck about the city and she could give a fuck about her mother, horrible bitch that woman had been. Dying had reignited Sarah’s hatred for her, hate for the horrible childhood, the beatings and verbal abuse, the weeks of alcohol-soaked neglect, for compelling Sarah to come back to this awful fucking place. Even dead, her mother manufactured wounds.
Sarah walked gingerly through the overgrown grasses surrounding the house. Patches of dirt and bouquets of weeds battled to suffocate the lawn. It was humid, the short trip from the parked car to the back porch had drenched her in an uncomfortable sweat. Three nights dancing at the club given up for what? This bullshit? She kicked at one of the aging cinder blocks lining the stairs. It rolled over, splitting in half and revealing a weathered cardboard box. An instant, a wince of remembrance went through her as she pulled it out from underneath the porch.
Inside were papers: Sarah, age 6, age 7, age 8. When I grow up, I want to be a vet, I want to be a teacher, I want to be a doctor.
| 2
| null |
intimeofroses
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5i8lvm
| 1,343,071,617
|
t3_wznme
|
Kylie was digging a hole. She squatted in the dirt, her hands turning the same dark brown as her curls and garden loam she displaced. It was slow work. She wasn’t allowed to use a spade since she had left it outside one rainy night, but her stick was sharp. She was digging to China – or buried diamonds! Whichever came first was fine with her.
Kylie dug with the intensity and anticipation of a 6 year old. Something magic was sure to come out of the hole, you just had to dig far enough to find it. Kylie wondered who had buried the treasure she was about to find. Maybe it was a pirate, maybe a king - maybe a pirate king! She dug alone in her backyard. Her mother was inside watching the evening news, her father was still at work.
Kylie’s stick struck something hard. She let out a little gasp, but continued to dig slowly, methodically. She savored the anticipation. Soon her excitement took over and her tiny fingers grabbed handfuls of dirt and brushed the cold object below. It was smooth and a dull grey, though it had once been white. It curved like a ball, a medium sized ball, not like the baseballs and kick balls at school. Her fingers scrambled to clean the object.
Kylie stopped digging. She stared at the object in her garden, and ran inside to her mother.
“Momma, I think someone got lost on the way to China.”
| 2
| null |
traysledding
|
t1_c5i8lvm
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5i8pq4
| 1,343,071,982
|
t3_wznme
|
ha ha, this one's great.
| 1
| null |
MegDanger
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5i8tf7
| 1,343,072,337
|
t3_wznme
|
Rose ran across the grounds with the speed and enthusiasm that can only be mustered by the young.
"It's incredible! It's so big! Was this a princess's house?"
Her mother and father chuckled mildly at their daughter as they craned their necks to take it all in. Before, they could have never have afforded such a place; it was something to be dreamed of, but never attained. But things were different now, changed since the war. Once proud houses stood like grand aristocratic husks, devoid of life. They sat silently in empty streets, waiting for people to come and fill them up again.
For the dilapidated mansion that seemed to spread itself in every direction, those people where young Rose and her parents, opportunistic and bold. Rose’s mother slipped her hand into the warm embrace of her husband's, smiling wearily at him as his expression mirrored hers.
“It’s finally over,” she dared to say.
He was about to reply when he realized they had lost sight of their daughter.
“Rose?”
“Daddy, back here, I found something!” came her tiny voice from the other side of a thick hedge.
They wrestled their way through and found their daughter atop a snub, bullet-shaped monstrosity buried halfway deep in the unkempt grass. Rose sat wedged between two large fins on either side of it.
“What is it, Daddy?”
Her father’s eyes bulged in fear as her mother screamed.
“Rose get off there, right now!”
But it was already too late.
| 1
| null |
[deleted]
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ia7hw
| 1,343,076,960
|
t3_wznme
|
[deleted]
| 1
| null |
[deleted]
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iajz4
| 1,343,078,132
|
t3_wznme
|
[deleted]
| -2
| null |
AgonistAgent
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ian1m
| 1,343,078,432
|
t3_wznme
|
I wake up. The sun is sitting on my face. I brush it off and I go to the bathroom. I look into the mirror.
An unshaven face from outside reality looks back. *Yet another Tuesday morning.* I sigh. I turn on the faucet and splash fluid on my face and I pull out my crucifix from my pocket and I drag it down my face and tentacles slide into the void.
My alarm clock screams. *I'm going to be late for work.* I throw my clothes into the toilet and run out the door.
The grass pulls me off the porch and drags. *Now I'm late.* I punch it and it vanishes, leaving the cement ground behind. There is a box of air in the ground.
I walk over to the box and remove the top, inside is a fist-sized rock. I poke it. It doesn't move. I pick it up. It stays on my tentacle.
I walk back inside and head to my laboratory. It ignores the spirits in the room. I throw holy water at it. It gets wet. I hit it with a chisel. A shard falls off.
*Maybe it's just an ordinary rock?*
*No. That's impossible.* I rub my eyes. *I have to be rational - it's just a shape-shifting imp or something.*
Boss's voice yells at me for being late in my head. I tell them that I'm too healthy to go to work. I hang up and resume my investigation...
| 4
| null |
AgonistAgent
|
t1_c5i5hak
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iapjs
| 1,343,078,669
|
t3_wznme
|
Speaking of entries, I think you should add that everyone should sort by new when viewing the thread to be fair to later entries.
EDIT: That and the voting section already looks like a war zone :-\
| 3
| null |
[deleted]
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ib4fq
| 1,343,080,102
|
t3_wznme
|
[deleted]
| 1
| null |
[deleted]
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ib51o
| 1,343,080,161
|
t3_wznme
|
[deleted]
| 3
| null |
[deleted]
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ibe7z
| 1,343,081,067
|
t3_wznme
|
[deleted]
| 1
| null |
jedditreddit
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ibel4
| 1,343,081,096
|
t3_wznme
|
It looked up at me. Its hollow features and faded visage covered with dirt. The mask was impossibly accurate, every minute detail flawlessly crafted. I looked at it, and it looked at me, reading me, looking into me. I had dropped the shovel to one side, all thoughts of continuing to dig thrown from my mind by this *thing*. Instead, I stared, at something unrecognisable, and yet utterly and intimately familiar. I stared, with no idea where it came from, or how it came to be here, at the mask, which perfectly mirrored my own face. The mask was me.
| 2
| null |
Bukkhead
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ibs8x
| 1,343,082,495
|
t3_wznme
|
The rain stopped, so Marty got off his fat ass and went into the backyard to water the flowers.
Stepped onto the patio, in his socks, no sandals. Wet soaked in fast. God damnit, he said, then whipped his head around to make sure nobody’d heard him. Taking the lord’s name in vain meant sofa time, and the sofa was in the living room, next to the kitchen, with the microwave, and the brightness of the clock always made sleep impossible. Marty’d been married for 20 years.
Stupid flowers. Black-eyed Susans. Or maybe irises. Gouged-out irises, by the look of it. Double you tee eff, Marty thought, since he didn’t like to curse in his mind either, if he could help it. Just in case. Had something dug up the irises?
Marty peered at the hole in the dirt. Wriggling inside it, the fattest dirtiest grossest worm ever invented. Marty felt his gorge rise, couldn’t tear his eyes away. The worm writhed. Mechanical, Marty reached for a hand spade. Robotic, he stabbed the worm. And stabbed and stabbed and stabbed.
The back door creaked, and terrible voice said “What are you doing to my petunias!” Marty looked up at his wife, her face ashen, angry, frown as flat as a 20-year-old sofa and eyes as bright as a microwave clock light at 3:43 in the morning.
Marty glanced at the hand spade, back at his wife, at the spade, at his wife. Suddenly he had an idea.
| 3
| null |
chazzwa
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ic11i
| 1,343,083,404
|
t3_wznme
|
The old wooden house felt out of place in the fast paced city. The grass that surrounded it shone bright green against the dull grays of the surrounding buildings. The yard was unkempt but suited the man who resided there.
Stan felt old. He was only fifty, but the years had worn down on him like water against rock. The cane he had used for the past ten years was the only thing left to lean on after his brother, a man he considered his best friend, stole everything their father had left them. He grabbed it off the mantle and headed towards the back door. The door slammed behind him as he continued towards the rusty metal shed that was tightly wrapped in chains.
It was the only thing left to do. His brother's betrayal had pushed him over the edge. He unlocked the chain and slowly started to unwrap it from the shed. The dread that began to fill him was countered with malice. The shed door creaked open and revealed his brother tied and gagged. Stan picked up the gun to his right on the table while a tear swelled in his brother's eye. Before he lost the courage he lifted the barrel level with his brother's head. The blast from the shot reverberated off the metal interior of the shed and drove a shock wave through Stan's arm. His brother went limp and his clenched hand opened to release a crumpled photograph. On the back it read *Everything I ever did, I did for you*. He flipped it over.
A second shot echoed through the city.
| 2
| null |
MurrayL
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5icwiz
| 1,343,086,782
|
t3_wznme
|
As Arthur settled himself into the stiff canvas of the deckchair, his toe happened upon something small and cold within the grass. He sat up sharply. Brian turned to face the sudden motion.
"What's the matter now?" he smirked.
"There's something down there, I think!" exclaimed Arthur, pointing accusingly at the ground.
Brian drew himself laboriously out of his chair, with much sighing, and knelt down. He turned his hands roughly through the grass, then stopped and peered closer.
"Oh, what's this?" he queried aloud, before raising his hand. A short, delicate metal chain dangled from between his thick fingers like a strand of silver hair. The other end was still attached to something, concealed by the grass. Without a second thought, he gave the chain a sharp tug, and felt the something at the other end give way.
"What is it?" asked Arthur, now getting up out of his own chair to take a closer look.
As he stood up, there was a noticeable rumbling sound. Brian looked at Arthur's stomach.
"There's no need to look at me like that!" protested Arthur indignantly. "It wasn't me! It came from down there with you."
Lifting his hand, Brian dangled the chain in the air between the two men. At the other end wobbled a black, plastic plug, three inches across. The rumbling sound had morphed into a kind of deep gurgle, and was steadily increasing in volume while a gentle breeze began to blow.
"Whoops." said Brian.
| 6
| null |
MurrayL
|
t1_c5ic11i
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5icz84
| 1,343,087,078
|
t3_wznme
|
I thought the ending felt a bit forced (I guess you ran out of words?) but I like the style!
| 3
| null |
MurrayL
|
t1_c5ibs8x
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5icztb
| 1,343,087,144
|
t3_wznme
|
I love this character already!
| 3
| null |
MurrayL
|
t1_c5icwiz
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5id0gq
| 1,343,087,214
|
t3_wznme
|
I actually wrote a whole lot more and had to choose an extract, so my apologies if it feels like there's a lack of context in places.
It's my first time trying any sort of writing competition so I hope I'll get better at following the word count guidelines in future...
| 3
| null |
MurrayL
|
t1_c5ian1m
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5id1pt
| 1,343,087,353
|
t3_wznme
|
I have no idea what I just read, but I think I liked it.
| 6
| null |
MurrayL
|
t1_c5iapjs
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5id1zl
| 1,343,087,384
|
t3_wznme
|
There's a whole lot of downvoting going on in here...
| 4
| null |
SurvivorType
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5id667
| 1,343,087,838
|
t3_wznme
|
Ad Victorem Spolias
I am the last of my kind. Call me... Zed. I first stumbled on the strange protrusion in the ground over an hour ago. It feels like a lifetime.
I can sense it's power. The constant hum in the air calls to me. I need that power.
I continue to dig, knowing that time is now short.
The war ravaged expanse around me still shows the devastating scars of our final battle, right here in my backyard. It was so long ago. We fought valiantly but there were so many of them. They just kept on coming. In the end, only I survived.
I slowly pry the wrecked chassis from the ground. It once belonged to one of the mine sniffers. I lovingly rub my fingers across it's dull, dirt encrusted surface. How it once shined.
I deftly pull one of the nearly depleted batteries from my body and insert the new one in it's place. Power surges through me. I kick away a crumbling skull in disgust as I wander off in search of yet more power.
Humans. I hate them still, even after they have all been destroyed.
I am the victor. To the victor go the spoils.
| 3
| null |
theplace
|
t1_c5icwiz
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5idu68
| 1,343,090,572
|
t3_wznme
|
I like it. I'm curious about what happens next.
Also, kudos to you for leaving comments. You, sir, are awesome.
| 3
| null |
theplace
|
t1_c5i4yjf
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5idx1q
| 1,343,090,885
|
t3_wznme
|
I would really like to see this become a full story. This is excellent and quite unique.
| 2
| null |
theplace
|
t1_c5ian1m
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5idyyp
| 1,343,091,096
|
t3_wznme
|
I don't even know what to think about this. I love it.
| 5
| null |
Mispelling
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ie75r
| 1,343,092,012
|
t3_wznme
|
Franklin ran inside as fast as he could. This is what he had been waiting for, potentially the find of the century. He had to tell her as soon as possible.
******
Josie’s life had reached a terminus. Graham worked six days a week and barely glanced at her when he was home. It had been three weeks since they last had a serious conversation, three months since they last had sex. She guessed he was cheating on her, but didn’t care. She had her own secrets; there was only one person that interested her now.
Standing in the kitchen reminiscing, Josie was shaken out of her languor by the ringing phone. Her heart leapt in her chest; her stomach sank to the floor. She knew it was him calling and knew today was the day. Josie excitedly lifted the receiver.
“Hello there. I thought you’d never call. Did you finally get the—hang on a minute.“
Her son came around the kitchen table and started pulling on Josie’s skirt. The sound of her hand upon his young face split the air. Stunned, he ran out of the room before she could see his tears blend into the blood on his lip. She indifferently returned to her call.
******
That day Franklin discovered his mother didn’t care about him anymore. Not about him; not about his rock. If she didn’t even care about him, who would? He turned his back on the world that day. He never became a geologist.
| 3
| null |
AgonistAgent
|
t1_c5id1pt
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ie7l7
| 1,343,092,065
|
t3_wznme
|
My first thought with this prompt was "normal person encounters eldrich abomination". So I wrote the exact opposite.
| 5
| null |
[deleted]
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ie824
| 1,343,092,120
|
t3_wznme
|
Ravilon roared, pushing off the cobble road below, his left arm oozing blood. He charged towards Gabriella gaining speed at an alarming rate. They connected, this time Gabriella didn’t hold; flying backwards towards the crowds. She jumped back up, preparing for the second blow. Yet, he didn’t attack. He stopped dead. Gabriella didn't even think; she just reacted, swinging towards Ravilon. The blades met, pushing hard, Gabriella knew she didn’t have the strength to beat him; but she knew the recoil of his mini-victory would force her backwards. *If only I could use the coming momentum*, she pondered the optimal reaction. Ravilon pushed Gabriella backwards, she spun out; spinning, arms extended, the blade becoming an extension of her body. She spun as a ballerina, dancing with her partner. The blade entered Ravilon’s right arm, connecting with the bone, Gabriella forced the blade deeper into the arm, slicing it entirely from the man’s body. She stopped, dropping the blade to her side.
The battle was over. Gabriella had won perhaps her most difficult fight to date. She duelled with explicit power and equal levels of precision, a gladiator in battle who fought mercilessly yet with a subdued etiquette; perhaps through respect. Those she fought deemed her unbeatable, the people she duelled and-by extension-the people who watched were not belittled or annoyed by her immense skill with the blade. They simply glared, mouths agape, inspired that a mere mortal could possess such prowess in battle. Ravilon acted similarly; sitting, legs crossed, like a child told to behave by a figure of authority. He didn’t pray, or grovel, or even look worried; he accepted his end.
I don't know how I can get it lower than that, but it's only slightly over, hopefully this will be ok :P
| 2
| null |
AgonistAgent
|
t1_c5iajz4
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ie8h2
| 1,343,092,163
|
t3_wznme
|
Short stories need paragraphs too :-\
| 2
| null |
Mispelling
|
t1_c5id0gq
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iefyu
| 1,343,092,998
|
t3_wznme
|
Hahaha... that was my exact situation too. I have been thinking a lot about writing lately, and thought, I just need to start writing. Anything. Then I by chance stumbled in here.
Wrote a little story. Was way over and had to change, edit, and cut. But I guess that's sort of the name of the game: don't use three words when two will do, don't use any if none are required.
| 2
| null |
FigPigDig
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5if5oa
| 1,343,095,893
|
t3_wznme
|
My uncles farm was always a wondrous place to explore with my brother Jonathan. However, an odd series of events turned this humble farm into a dark morgue, bearing secrets waiting to be unearthed, all within the span of a day.
As Jonathan and I were battling next to the old well, he seemed to lodge his foot underground. When he pulled his foot free, Jonathan revealed a dingy scroll enclosed with twine. What scared me the most was how fast Jonathan rose and opened it up. I noticed the intensity his face held as he read. As he finished, his eyes appeared hazed over. He dropped the scroll and marched towards the well. "What the hell's your problem!" I saw Jonathan bonelessly letting his body plummet head first to his death. "No! Help, Uncle Help!" My cries were useless. I peered down the well, and saw nothing but a void of sheer death and depth. With my brother dead, I laid next to the scroll, and a sudden clarity took place over my mind. Without further thought, I began to read. I now realize there is a world beyond what can be conceptualized. It's confines do not limit as this materialistic realm does. I can now say than I am truly living, and I invite you to come with me. Down in the depths of this realm of which syntax cannot describe. Take the plummet and be shown how to ascend. I'll be waiting. Here, in the void.
| 2
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5iefyu
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5if9bz
| 1,343,096,305
|
t3_wznme
|
Yes, flash fiction is fun for just this sort of idea. Get your words to fit in the constraints. Then, if you like what you've written... perhaps take it and expand it into a fuller story for your own purposes. This is how I began writing one of my latest novels, in fact.
| 3
| null |
Mispelling
|
t1_c5if9bz
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ifcci
| 1,343,096,645
|
t3_wznme
|
Thanks for re-launching this sub, RK. You've gotten roughly 20 new subscribers in about 2 hours or so. Hopefully things can keep growing.
| 1
| null |
Mispelling
|
t1_c5ie75r
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ifczl
| 1,343,096,713
|
t3_wznme
|
250 words even. ;-)
EDIT: Maybe. MSWord tells me 250. Wordcounttool.com tells me 254. Counting by hand gives me 248. Shoulda been a math major.
| 3
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5ie824
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ifd43
| 1,343,096,725
|
t3_wznme
|
http://wordcounttool.com - I added it to the main post after reading this. Your count currently sits at 307. Flash fiction really does help in teaching lessons in brevity. For example, a random line from what you wrote above:
"She jumped back up immediately, prepared for a second blow."
Can be trimmed by writing it as:
"She jumped back, prepared for a second blow."
and even more:
"She jumped back, bracing herself."
of course, one could play with wording on and on. But it's easier to eliminate words when you reread. You say "huh, I can get rid of this word, that word, this other word... and the narrative still flows. Plus, it's much more concise." Soon, every single word is vital. :)
| 1
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5ifcci
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iff4m
| 1,343,096,950
|
t3_wznme
|
It sat at about 34 subscribers about two days ago. I'm aiming for about 1,000 subs by years end. (Lofty goals, I know.) I really want to engage the community and help others write. I hope people start submitting their own prompts on a regular basis... as it feels only slightly schizophrenic for me to respond to my own prompts. (Obviously I won't respond to any contest prompts I create each month.)
In the end, I just love Reddit and all the writers I've met in the other subreddits. So, if there's any way I can motivate others as they have motivated me - I'm happy to do so. :) Cheers.
| 4
| null |
FigPigDig
|
t1_c5ibs8x
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ifgv2
| 1,343,097,137
|
t3_wznme
|
This is fucking great lol.
| 1
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5id1zl
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ifh96
| 1,343,097,180
|
t3_wznme
|
Fortunately I'm only going to focus solely on upvotes. I've now eliminated the upvotes via CSS to make downvoting harder. (I should have done so sooner, but... I'm learning.) So, worry not about any downvotes - RES allows you to, roughly, guesstimate the amount of upvotes something has. The only way I'd consider downvotes is if the downvotes were founded. (...and, as we all know, downvotes only count if someone isn't adding to a conversation.)
I hope this allays some fears. In the end, as long as we're all writing and maybe giving each other some constructive comments - we all win. Plus, there will be future contests each month.
| 4
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5iapjs
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ifi8v
| 1,343,097,300
|
t3_wznme
|
Be sure to read my reply to MurrayL re: voting. That said, I took your suggestion and made sure to post it in the main post above (re: sorting.) Thanks for the input. :)
| 3
| null |
[deleted]
|
t1_c5ifd43
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ifig9
| 1,343,097,320
|
t3_wznme
|
Thank you! I shall do that now :D
| 1
| null |
lizardfight
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iflq1
| 1,343,097,670
|
t3_wznme
|
4:36 A.M. Another night lost to the muffled screams beneath my backyard. They reach up and buzz in the back of my head and reverberate in my chest. I've been awake now for 143 hours and won't take any more. I am beyond fear and anguish. The earth needs to scream and I'll give it its mouth.
In the shed is a big spade, big enough to release these demons and I don't care what happens when they're free, I just need to stop the hellish screams that grip my mind and my body.
In the backyard, I plunge the spade deep into the earth and dig feverishly to exorcise the madness. My body activates into a digging frenzy and my mind shuts down, it needs the rest.
Finally my arms exhaust themselves thirteen feet down or so and the screams cease. The silence is overwhelming. I sob but can make no tears. My body sinks with fatigue and collapses. I close my eyes. Yes, no more thoughts.
Dirt sprinkles my face, then lightly on my arm. A mound slaps me across the face. I open my eyes: at the opening of the hole I am burying myself.
"Don't shut me out!" I yell below, but I don't stop.
"Just enjoy the silence,” I say hurling dirt at myself in disgust.
I am right. I obey and drift into a deep slumber below while above I bury myself so I can finally be silent.
| 18
| null |
Philosofiend
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ifxbd
| 1,343,098,923
|
t3_wznme
|
It was another cold day. "What is it, girl? What have you found?" The young Golden had been digging again and brought another present for master. She sat there grinning, tail wagging. John crouched down to inspect the catch and was greeted by a low growl. "Easy girl. What you got there."
"Another bird?" Came a voice from the kitchen.
"Nah man, no blood... Or feathers." John reached down carefully for the object in her maw
His sudden grasp sent the dog into a frenzy of growls as the game ensued. "No girl! Drop it... Drop it!" She finally released her prize, yet still grinned. An old cloth wrapped tightly with coiled twine, wet with dew and drool. It cut easily by his knife and spun away leaving limp cloth.
Jake had come to witness the unwrapping. "Did she finally get one of the neighbors cats?"
"It's not a cat. Its... What in the hell?"
A key. Large and ornate, it had an elaborate "J.H." engraved on the side. Beneath it was an old parchment map. "This is our town" Said Jake, studying the map. He laid a pudgy finger on the 'X'. "That's the old factory.""There."
"The factory?" John knew where this was going. "That's been shut down for years. Too many accidents. Anyway, how would an key from an abandoned factory end up here, a full ten miles away?"
Jake got that smile he always got when up to no good. "Why don't we go find out?"
| 3
| null |
AgonistAgent
|
t1_c5ifi8v
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5igby3
| 1,343,100,518
|
t3_wznme
|
Not a problem. Though there are still some issues, primarily vote fuzzing. Maybe collect all the entries at the end of the week and make a poll(with entry order randomized)?
| 1
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5igby3
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5igfam
| 1,343,100,891
|
t3_wznme
|
This sounds like a good idea for the next contest which will be in the first week of July (coming soon, obviously.) I don't want to change the 'rules' for winning midstream. So, sometime next week a contest will go up and I'll use this thought. Cheers for the idea. :)
| 1
| null |
dialupmoron
|
t3_x1rvc
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ih4wy
| 1,343,103,797
|
t3_x1rvc
|
I have a question about this subreddit -- is it strictly prose-based? What about short scripts that fit the theme?
| 2
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5ih4wy
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ih7d6
| 1,343,104,075
|
t3_x1rvc
|
Anything goes as long as it fits the prompt. If it's a flash fiction and there's a word constriction, the script would have to fit that restriction. Otherwise there are no other real restrictions in any other prompts. Do what you're inspired to do! :)
| 2
| null |
Lilchipotle
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iho22
| 1,343,106,056
|
t3_wznme
|
Could this be it? I could have sworn, no...no this cannot be the same one. But it has the same smell, the same feel. I thought I lost it, my most treasured prize. How sweet a reunion this is...
Uh oh, one of the big ones are coming. The one with long hair is not going to be pleased that I dug this hole. Should I play dead? They always clap and laugh when I play dead. Yes, playing dead is most certainly my best hope.
Oh no, my eyes may be closed but I know what those loud sounds mean. I twisted out of my ruse and stared at the long haired one in the face. Yes, that one is very angry with me, its limbs certainly are making a lot of gestures. It would be best if I put my most treasured prize in my mouth for safe keeping. It was smooth against my tongue, and I would swear that I can still taste a little meat!
The big one started leaning in for, oh no, it’s going for my prize! It shant be getting my treasure, not this time, and not ever. I jumped back out of its clutches.
The large one threw up its hands and retreated to the big box. I quickly made my way to the back of the green patch and began to dig. I shall place my treasure here, and this time, I will certainly remember where I put it.
| 4
| null |
AgonistAgent
|
t1_c5igfam
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ii541
| 1,343,108,308
|
t3_wznme
|
And thanks to you for this contest :D
I hope you don't mind if I use a contest idea as motivation for the folks over at /r/mlpwritingschool
| 1
| null |
skrillexisokay
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ijrng
| 1,343,118,826
|
t3_wznme
|
*Love is all you need.* Grant always had Beatle's tunes stuck in his head when he was doing something important. With uncharacteristic patience he searched for the divot behind an old oak in his yard. Finding it, he knelt down, brushing the loose soil away. He began to move the rich soil with his cupped hands, exaggerating the slight dip.
*Day or night he’ll be there any time at all.* He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his old friend. Before she changed. He was now elbow-deep into the ground, which remained soft and easily pierced. He could feel the heat through what couldn’t be more than a few inches of soil.
*Yellow mother custard dripping from a dead dog's eye.* He heard her before he saw her. She was crying in that way of hers. Something between dejected wails and horrifying screams. The earth was dry and hard packed. He began scratching at it with his fingernails, although not frantically. The earth was now hot to the touch
*Living is easy with eyes closed. Misunderstanding all you see* Struggling with the door, Helen burst into the backyard. Heavy makeup streaming down her face, she screamed in a language familiar but incomprehensible to Grant. The tips of his fingers had reached the foil, which was uncomfortably hot to touch.
*Newspaper taxis appear on the shore,
Waiting to take you away.
Climb in the back with your head in the clouds,
And you're gone.*
| 3
| null |
da_crow_hunter
|
t3_x2b58
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5il8hj
| 1,343,133,239
|
t3_x2b58
|
There are those who will fall to knees and begin to pray. For they believe the end has begun. They shall cry to their god or gods and hope that when that sun, they now fear sets they shall be saved in eternity.
There are those who will curse it and begin to fear at what could be amiss. They apply their logic and believe something has halted the Earth's rotation. But what force could have halted it? Man? Nature? Then they look at those praying to their faiths. They join them, kill them, curse them or ignore them for it cannot be.
Some do not trust the logic of mankind or the many faiths. But they are too much of a coward and begin to commit suicide. Many do it alone, a few get together and die in flocks, while the rest attack their enemies and then end their own existence.
Then there are the vultures. They pick at the bones and finish off what isn't dead. Greed is their only driving force and all they see is opportunity. Some realize it might be final hurah for the end of their world might at hand. Others think it shall pass, and they believe that they will not be caught when the chaos and dust settles. Then there are the vultures that do it becuase they have always wanted to but have never had to courage to go forth and commit their crimes.
Scientists are scrambling to unravel this mystery. They fear for their lives and those of their families. They are also curious as to why this happened. Moving, studying, and researching as quickly as they could to claim the glory for solving this mystery. Also wanting to be the one to fix and have an greater glory for saving the world, the people and all future generations. But alas, I do not the end of this tale. Would any of you happen to know off hand?
(If there are mistakes, I apologize. Wrote this on the fly.)
| 3
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5ii541
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ila2n
| 1,343,133,547
|
t3_wznme
|
Sure. If the idea helps grow your community then go for it. :)
| 1
| null |
da_crow_hunter
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ilg80
| 1,343,134,695
|
t3_wznme
|
Here I sit in fear and surprise. Not believing what I had found in the limited vastness of my forty acres of land. I had not lived here long, and believed nothing of value would be in this rain drenched land. It had taken me ten days and thousands of my own dollars to rent the equipment needed to dig this up. Once I had it uncovered, I ran in terror. All I could think of was why I had decided to dig up that lone piece of metal on my property? Why hadn't I just moved on with my life? Once I had dug twenty feet into the ground, there before was an aircraft of unknown orgin. I climbed into the door that I had exposed and realized I was in the belly of the beast. My reaction was one that I cannot describe. For I was staring the Destroyer of Worlds in its metal, bulbous form. I stepped forth and examining it, being of a military back ground myself, I knew what this horrid device was capable of. But there was another door, as if temporarily attached. Walking towards it, it opened for me, as though it was waiting for me to approach. I saw more of the destroyers on the other side, as well as an old man. All he said was, "Thank you for opening the door to our freedom."
| 2
| null |
Bukkhead
|
t3_x2b58
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ilz62
| 1,343,137,638
|
t3_x2b58
|
I’m sitting on my front porch, holding a copy of Harlan Ellison’s *Shatterday* and wearing a pair of the most powerful sunglasses money can buy. The sunglasses are stolen. I stole them because they idea that sunglasses can be powerful is stupid. They just sit there. They don’t do anything. They’re polarized and smoked and they don’t do anything to UV rays, they just block them, somehow. I’m trying to stare at the sun, but it’s still too bright.
I open the book to my bookmark, "Jeffty is Five," but I can’t see anything for a minute because of the sun staring. I really hate Harlan Ellison. He’s an old man and a hack and an arrogant prick. But there’s this girl on the bus who likes him, so now I have to read this crap. Science fiction is for idiots.
And unfortunately for me, some idiots have very large boobs.
It feels like I’ve been out here for hours, days. Chitter chatter on the radio about magnetic pulses from the sun. Blither blather about America getting hotter while China starts to freeze. But I’m not a fool, I know that radios don’t work when magnetic pulses screw up the earth, and this radio, it was made in China, probably. Just another butt-load of fiction. Give me a break.
No, seriously, give me a break. If the earth’s stopped spinning, then I’m going to be fifteen for a very long time, and that is not acceptable.
| 3
| null |
traysledding
|
t1_c5ijrng
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5im6re
| 1,343,138,674
|
t3_wznme
|
whoa
| 1
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5il8hj
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5imhqu
| 1,343,140,075
|
t3_x2b58
|
> If there are mistakes, I apologize. Wrote this on the fly.
You should write on a computer or a piece of paper. Writing on flies is very tedious and probably not enjoyable for the fly itself.
| 6
| null |
traysledding
|
t3_x2b58
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5imts0
| 1,343,141,503
|
t3_x2b58
|
The pain is searing and I didn’t know anything could hurt this much it feels like every cell in my body is on fire but it also feels like every cell in my body is hard at work repairing the damage and singing me lullabies and keeping me from closing my eyes and I’m working to not close my eyes and I’m staring at the sun and it doesn’t look like it’s moving I wonder how long it’s been since I saw it move? The clouds don’t look like they’re moving either and I know because I’ve been paying attention to the clouds and the sun and trying to focus on anything besides this pain because the urgent voices have grown more and more muffled and I can barely hear them anymore but that can’t be right. How could they grow more muffled if no time has passed? I know no time has passed because the sun hasn’t moved and the clouds haven’t moved but I can’t hear those voices and the pain isn’t getting better but I can’t close my eyes. The sand is rough but it’s starting to feel more comfortable now and I can feel the earth gripping me while every cell in my body is hard at work and I can’t close my eyes I know I can’t close my eyes if I close my eyes I’ll know that pain is in my gut and I might not open my eyes again I can’t close my eyes I’ll stare at the sun and wait for it to
| 2
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t3_x2b58
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5imzc5
| 1,343,142,149
|
t3_x2b58
|
**JOURNAL ENTRY - DAY ONE**
They said on the news creating a journal will give us a sense of time. That it will be important to catalog our days, so that we have a sense of time, because as we all now know - time has stopped. Just a few days ago the Earth *actually* stood still. It's still revolving around the sun, the scientists say, but now three days in and the daytime hasn't ended.
I guess, if you're reading this in the future and aren't me, you might not know what I'm talking about. Well, one day the Earth just stopped rotating. We all remember where we were when we found out. I was asleep. About one in the afternoon and I was dead to the world when my phone rang. It was a good buddy of mine, the head surgeon of the hospital I worked the night shift at. He was frantic, said they had a surge of failed suicides flooding in, so it was all hands on deck.
You see, most people would think that people wouldn't notice that the day wasn't ending when night didn't come. That wasn't the case. People noticed by around eleven AM. The sun just hung in the same spot, so it really only took people an hour to notice. Hell, some people still used to tell the time by the position of the sun.
Of course, I didn't pay attention to the news and, when my friend called, he assumed I already knew. I didn't know anything was really wrong until I was rushing towards the hospital to lend a hand. Just about everyone I knew in the neighborhood was home. When you see that in the middle of the workday, you get a feeling of unease. Seemed all the neighbors were talking to each other... some giving skyward glances. I would peek up from my drivers seat as I drove and see nothing but the sun and some clouds. When I started dreaming of some meteors, I turned on the radio to get the news.
Apparently it hadn't taken long for them to scramble together the experts. They were on the talk show being broadcast. They were talking about the future ramifications if the Earth continued to not move. A few minutes in and the announcer clarified that, for those tuning in, the Earth was no longer rotating and our side was facing the sun. (The other side, of course, would be in the longest night of their lives.)
I was rapt with the coverage on the radio as I drove. I suddenly understood what was going on when my friend called. Speaking of that conversation, it was the last I would ever have with him. I was fortunate to still be a few miles off when the earthquake hit. It was the most violent force I had ever felt up to that point in my life. Many buildings, including the hospital, were reduced to rubble.
Where I lived, Vermont... hadn't had an earthquake in over a hundred years. The longest day of my life had just begun.
| 3
| null |
da_crow_hunter
|
t1_c5imhqu
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5infdi
| 1,343,143,922
|
t3_x2b58
|
Well, it was difficult to catch it in the first place. Figured I would do something new and unheard of. You know, shake things up a bit.
| 3
| null |
da_crow_hunter
|
t1_c5imzc5
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ingzq
| 1,343,144,090
|
t3_x2b58
|
I must have more!
| 3
| null |
Beelzebunny
|
t3_x2b58
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5inqmm
| 1,343,145,085
|
t3_x2b58
|
I know I'm a bit guilty of not properly addressing the prompt, but it inspired me to write this. I had a bit of fun with it. I didn't proof it or anything, but it was a nice break from what I'm working on this morning. Here you go:
---
In the largest room of the true Temple of the Sun God, a young boy stifled a yawn as he slouched in his chair. He had been there for hours, listening only to the angry lecture being given to him by his father. The boy had understood his mistake as soon as it had been made, but that didn't stop the angry man in the room from hammering on about the one tiny hiccup the boy had caused: the sun was stationary in the sky.
As the lecture continued, the boy began to tune out, hypnotized by the feathers on his father's headdress as they flicked from side to side with his wild gesticulations. The boy rested his chin on his hand, which was promptly slapped away by his father, who apparently viewed it as an insolence.
"Pay attention!" the old man barked. "One job! I give you one little job and you screw it up! Raise the sun, then set the sun. I'm never going to live this down with the other gods. You've made my very purpose into a mockery! From now on, whenever the sun successfully sets, humans will sarcastically slow clap at the sky and say, 'Oh, well done, Kinich, you managed to do your job today!' I knew you weren't ready for this responsibility."
"Sorry, father," the young man sighed.
"'Sorry, father!'" the god named Kinich mimicked with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "Maybe you'll grow up to be the god of making amends. Shall we see what's going on outside? Yes, let's do that."
Kinich walked over to a large circular pool at the center of the temple. With an angry sweep of his hand, images of commonfolk appeared on the surface of the water.
"Look at this mess. Just look at it." Kinich gestured at the pool with both hands. "Nobody knows what to do. My priests are being flooded with inquiries, some moron in the east is tapping his sundial with a look of utter confusion on his face, and everyone is skipping work to heap mounds of useless offerings on my altars." Kinch cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled at the water. "Keep burning your food, idiots! I'm sure that'll help!"
"Sorry, father," the young man mumbled. "I just don't know what went wrong."
"I'll tell you what went wrong," Kinich said with uneasy calm. "You *broke* the *sun*. The thing is completely stalled out, and I'm not sure how to get it started again."
The boy shifted his legs to prevent them from falling asleep. Just as Kinich buried his face into his palms in a moment of exasperated silence, there was a timid knock on a nearby doorway. A young woman with black hair and silver eyes stood just outside the room.
"Uh, hi, Kinich? Did you know that there's a problem with th-"
"Yes, I'm aware of the issue with the sun, Chel," Kinich said, clenching his fists next to his ears. "Working on it."
"Okay, because I can't pilot the moon into the sky until you-"
"I believe I said I'm working on it, Chel. Just...just hang on, okay?"
She backed out of the doorway without a word and shuffled off with her eyes directed firmly at the floor. Kinich let out a heavy sigh and gestured for his son to stand up.
"Come on, we have to fix this before our human followers sacrifice all their daughters and die of sunburns. You got us into this, and you're going to help get us out. You can hold a flashlight, can't you?"
The boy nodded. It was literally going to be a long day.
| 4
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5inqmm
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5inwm4
| 1,343,145,719
|
t3_x2b58
|
The main point of the subreddit is to be prompted to write... so, I wouldn't stress if it takes you on journey that's completely different from the source of the prompt itself. Good work, by the way. :)
| 3
| null |
Beelzebunny
|
t1_c5inwm4
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5inxll
| 1,343,145,826
|
t3_x2b58
|
Thank you!
I'm brand new to Reddit and was worried about making a newb mistake. Thanks for the feedback. :)
| 3
| null |
traysledding
|
t1_c5inqmm
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5io96n
| 1,343,146,990
|
t3_x2b58
|
really clever, I like this.
| 2
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5ilz62
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iof58
| 1,343,147,582
|
t3_x2b58
|
I enjoyed this one. Cheers. :)
| 1
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5imts0
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iogkr
| 1,343,147,723
|
t3_x2b58
|
A good effort... the first sentence is extremely long with no punctuation to break it up. A few of your sentences suffer from this lacking... it makes it difficult to read. (Try reading the first sentence out loud only pausing when you hit the first punction [the question mark] and you'll see what I mean.)
I look forward to more stuff from you in the future!
| 1
| null |
traysledding
|
t1_c5iogkr
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ioo0i
| 1,343,148,443
|
t3_x2b58
|
I was actually thinking it had a bit too much punctuation.
| 1
| null |
swarexs985
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ipj8y
| 1,343,151,430
|
t3_wznme
|
The light blinded me.
Okay, maybe not literally. But when you've lived underground your entire life, fed lies about the surface, threatened with execution if you so much as *glimpse* the top world, you tend to start believing what you hear.
But you also hear other people. They talk in hurried whispers, sealing their lips if anyone passes too close. They talk behind closed doors, doors that kids like myself have manytimes placed their ear to the heyhole of. Doors that reveal a fascinating world full of colors no one could imagine. Full of sounds no speaker could re produce. Full of scents that aren't covered by ores and dirt. A world kids like me dream of.
Of course, my parents are great at stifling creativity. Our backyard (I use yard sparingly) consists of an outlet behind our house that is devoid of minerals. My friends and I played soccer there before it was banned by the People. Now we sit around and dream of a world on the surface.
What I hadn't told any of them, of course, is that I had a secret hole back there. One I'd been working on for months. One that led up. How far? I don't know. Straight up? Probably not? Up to what? *The surface*
| 2
| null |
onewatt
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ips9o
| 1,343,152,289
|
t3_wznme
|
Jack Valentine tripped as he ran across the yard, sending his felt fedora rolling across the grass. He gripped his stubbed toe with both hands. “Ow ow ow ow.”
Kenny Asper jumped over his fallen nemesis and dashed into the goal area. “Goooooaaaaalllll!” he laughed and did a dance.
Jack pulled himself over to the object that had tripped him. It was shiny, like chrome, and angular. He pulled at it, but it was stuck firmly in place.
“What’s that,” Kenny asked as he approached.
*
Two hours later they had unearthed most of a shining metal robot. It was larger than Jack’s dad. Its left arm ended in what was definitely a gun of some sort.
“Do you think it has an ON switch?” Kenny asked with an evil gleam in his eyes.
“Uhhh...” Jack hesitated. Something about the automaton made him shiver.
Just then, Jack’s father pulled into the driveway. He was still wearing his lab coat as he emerged from his car. He probably wouldn’t have noticed what was going on in the yard if the light hadn’t glinted brightly off the robot’s metal skin.
“Oh!” he said. “Right.”
“We found this in the grass,” Jack tried to explain.
“Yes, yes.” His father approached with a thoughtful look on his face. “He was too heavy... when his battery died. Always intended to dig him up again...”
“Him?”
“Well, son, meet your older brother.” He smiled broadly. “I’ll go get the jumper cables!”
| 2
| null |
illaqueable
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5isdan
| 1,343,161,068
|
t3_wznme
|
I am awakened by a diaphragm-oppressing boom from the main house, twenty yards across the lawn. It is a sensation rather than a sound—my ears a press floor gumshoe too late with the news, biting off of the AP story—and my body clenches to keep my sanity from leaking. Also, pee. The silence that follows is iron, infallible, epochal. I recover myself, but the protestations of the floorboards over my head are not imaginary; there are shuffling footfalls seeking silence, then sharp little reports, like dak-dak-dak, quick ligneous impacts that I perceive in my mind’s eye as attack, riposte, parry, advantage, can almost stare up through the floor as my father maneuvers his assailant for the killing blow. I will his steady hand to victory, imbue it with every inch of my love.
Be strong, father. I am lost without you.
Yet, where the telling strike ought to land is nothing, and I can hear my father’s stolid grunt, the signifier of his glazing eyes demanding answers of the blade newly baptized in his blood. And now the shovels, raking aside the carefully cast-about sod.
My blood leaps in my veins.
And now the pickaxe and the hatchet, the splinter-rain, the sliver of lantern light.
And now the face, the hateful contorted face, the joyous firebrand eyes, the sought after prize attained; rough hands extend an orgy of rapacious violation, wanton abuse—I am discovered. This is the end.
My blood will tell this tale.
| 2
| null |
illaqueable
|
t3_x2b58
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iu6hv
| 1,343,167,529
|
t3_x2b58
|
I ain’t much for words. Tell you the truth, I only read maybe three, four books in my life. Some magazines, sure, but I ain’t no reader, neither. Ain’t never burned the night oil, or nothing like that, ‘cept when I was up ‘ere in the Lawson tract and they pay us time and a half, clearing brush type of thing, stretching out the work, not paid by the job type of thing.
So I’m up ‘ere in the Lawson tract, like I said just now, three straight weeks. Days been getting longer, like they do this time a year. ‘cept today I go to clock out and it’s still straight up, like right there. Yea, right there, just hanging in the sky, the sun is, like she stalled out on a big hill and can’t get her going again, undergeared her, type of thing. My watch still calls it quitting time, beer thirty, but I’ll be goddamned if the sun didn’t follow me all the way to Preacher’s, chased me in the door. Gave the goddamned willies, tell you the truth.
Well, I finish up my Coors and I go to settle up with Jim up at the bar, and he’s got the squawkbox pinged, the sonuvabitch is just screaming the news out, about how the sun ain’t set anywhere. Got some folks with queer accents talking about how they ain’t seen dark yet in Australia, which tell you the truth gives me another set of the willies, cuz I don’t know nothing about space or nothing, but I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work. Tell you the truth, I’m a little goddamned nervous.
| 1
| null |
SurvivorType
|
t3_x3itq
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iv16n
| 1,343,170,820
|
t3_x3itq
|
Tabby sniffed the air experimentally. Something was... not right. The smell was wrong. He padded silently across the dining room to the hallway that lead to the bedroom.
He listened intently.
The normal sounds his human made were absent. What could this mean? His human had not left. Her smells were there, but they were not right.
Tabby slowly and very cautiously entered the dimly lit bedroom. There was his human. On the bed. Not moving.
This was bad. Tabby knew it deep down. He knew that something had now changed, and things would never be the same again.
He jumped to the bed, almost hesitantly. There she was. He pawed at her, as he usually did when he wanted her attentions.
This time, she did not move to comfort him.
This time, she did not stir from her seeming slumber.
He let out a plaintive howl from deep inside him.
Still, she did not awake.
He curled up next to her and somehow managed to sleep.
Eventually he awoke. It was now night. He rubbed his face against her arm and bumped his head softly against hers in farewell.
Finally Tabby jumped to the floor and took his leave through the cat door she had so thoughtfully provided him.
It was time to find his own way in the world.
Alone.
| 9
| null |
Asian2Go
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ivt0c
| 1,343,173,818
|
t3_wznme
|
"Our anniversary isn't today. We had our wedding in June, remember?" I smirked at her. *"This time it was you who forgot when our anniversary was! Now I have an excuse for the next time I forget!"* I thought.
"No, I'm talking about our first meeting anniversary!" I rolled my eyes. Our meeting anniversary? Did couples really celebrate things like that?
I grabbed my lovely but sometimes sappy wife's hand. "Of course I didn't forgot! Follow me." I led her out to our backyard.
"Where did I bury that thing?" I wondered.
"Why is my present underground?"
I ignored her and retrieved a spade. I began digging, uprooting the flowers she had planted there. I knew she wasn't going to be happy with me, but some sacrifices had to be made. I continued digging until I uncovered a shoe box. I opened it, and inside was a number of memorabilia from my youth, such as old toys and books. I decided to reminisce later, as I had an angry wife to deal with first.
"This is a journal I kept in high school." I opened the journal and read her an entry.
"A new girl came to our school today, and holy hell is she hot. She was wearing this..." I skipped over that part. "We talked a bit. Man, she's so smart and beautiful and amazing that I feel blessed she decided to talk to me."
I looked up and gave my wife a smile.
"And I still do."
| 2
| null |
hello_flamingo
|
t3_x2b58
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5ivzz6
| 1,343,174,619
|
t3_x2b58
|
Well, here it goes. I didn't do a lot of editing, I more or less wrote as it came to me, with some changes made for organization. I'm satisfied with it, though. Furthermore, I'm leaving the large space because I'm (new here) and don't know how to make lines.
To be perfectly honest, I thought it would be a little more dramatic than this.
I've seen plenty of movies, read plenty of books about it. Mostly it's depicted as sudden and heartbreaking and terrible- the earth cracking open, volcanoes spewing fire and ash, maybe even a behemoth of a tsunami wiping a coastal city off the map, sending thousands of screaming people to a watery grave. But whoever thought the end of the world would begin so calmly as this?
The sun has stopped moving. That much is obvious to anyone who cares to look outside. In fact, you don't even have to go out- there isn't a station on TV that's not talking about it. The clocks tick on, sure, but it seems the universe has picked today to break its own rules and stop making sense. Because screw planet Earth, right?
The way I see it, humankind was bound to destroy itself sooner or later. We didn't have long to go before we blew ourselves sky-high with nuclear weapons. Or maybe we'd take the slow route, poisoning our own environment for decades until there is nothing consumable left. People are kind of like monsters that way- always consuming, stupidly selfish. Maybe we didn't directly cause the sun to hover in the sky, but I feel, somehow, we're behind it. Maybe God looked down on the world and decided it was time to start over. Maybe planet Earth is alive, and wants us gone once and for all. Maybe the entire universe is falling to pieces. It had a beginning, according to the Big Bang Theory, so it must have an end, right?
So why no Big Bang in the end? Why only silence, and the smell of fear?
I don't know. No one knows. Anything's possible. The point is, the Earth halted its orbit, leaving some of us trapped in an eternal day with the other side of the world frozen in everlasting night. Nobody knows if Earth will ever start moving again.
Anyways, like I said, I figured we didn't have much longer to go. I just didn't expect today to be the day.
Most people are worried. Not panicking, because nothing violent has happened yet. Extreme? Sure. But disastrous, deadly? There's no explosions, no chance of immediate and brutal death. If the sun is going to kill us, it will take a while. In truth, people don't really understand what's going on. They hope it will go back to normal. Me? I'm not worried. Not even scared, honestly. I don't mind that the world is ending. The volcanoes, the earthquakes, the floods, the storms... they haven't happened yet, but I'm sure they will. That's when people will panic and the dying will start. And though it will be sad... It will also be, in its own strange way, incredibly beautiful.
So I'll wait here, sipping lemonade, on what began as a typical day and ended as... Oh, wait. It will never end. That's the funniest thing, really. Today will never end. But everything else will.
| 2
| null |
hello_flamingo
|
t1_c5ivzz6
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iw64x
| 1,343,175,328
|
t3_x2b58
|
I see the large space between the intro and response is no longer there. Oh well. The second paragraph, "To be perfectly...", is where the story starts.
| 1
| null |
[deleted]
|
t3_wznme
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iwf5k
| 1,343,176,371
|
t3_wznme
|
He had almost cracked her head open with the shovel while digging up his yard, hardly the best first impression. He carried her inside, laying her down on his couch. Such beauty was rarely seen, always oppressed by the materialistic skin. His words came out sporadically, nervous to ruin a chance at seeing her again, though it didn’t seem like she was going anywhere. After forcing conversation, he settled into his recliner and enjoyed a glass of tea with her, though she must have been allergic for all she did was lay there and stare at him without ever breaking eye contact.
Even after hours of sitting in silence, there was no sensation of forced company. Looking at her, he could tell she had been a strong woman, so elegant, the way her left arm was placed along her side and her right was supporting the perfection that rested atop her neck. How had he been so lucky as to find this beauty, nestled sweetly in his very own yard? Love like this doesn’t come around often. Hoping she wouldn’t think him bold, he asked for her hand in marriage. She didn’t object as he slid his grandmother’s ring onto her long slender fingers.
His family was ecstatic at the news of his engagement, that was no surprise to him though, he knew they would love Esquelet. She was simple and elegant, not the liveliest person he had known, but what do you expect when you live at a cemetery?
| 3
| null |
ContextRemoved
|
t3_x2b58
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5iwjz9
| 1,343,176,920
|
t3_x2b58
|
It's a hot Sunday morning. Too hot for morning, too sunny for 7am. The sun sits high in the sky. It is stuck, or maybe it forgot how to move. No one knows for sure. I sit on my front porch, drinking my coffee, trying to ignore the hot ball of gas in the sky.
"It's like Alaskan summer, man!" my neighbor, Jeff, yells from the sidewalk. He is out walking his Great Dane, Bernard.
"Yeah," I reply. Jeff takes this as an invitation. Jeff and Bernard make their way over to my porch. Bernard sniffs my face and sits. He is so big that his head is even with mine.
"Hot as hell, man! And still no answers from the scientists, about why we stopped moving," Jeff says.
"They haven't really had a lot of time," I say. "And it's the weekend."
"Weekends don't matter anymore."
"Well, I'm going to do what the President said to do. Go about my business as usual. Starting with drinking my coffee."
"Well, Bernard and I are going to go get some more guns later this morning. Shit's going to go down soon. Chaos, murder, and all that."
I take a sip of coffee and watch as a woman walks past with her dog, Chi Chi. I don't know the woman's name; they walk by every morning. Jeff isn't the only one with visions of doomsday and the rapture. The news this morning had reported several radical religious groups had committed mass suicide. But right here, in my neighborhood, things were still pretty normal.
"Good luck finding a gun store that's open on Sunday," I say.
| 2
| null |
true911
|
t1_c5iv16n
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5j457w
| 1,343,220,561
|
t3_x3itq
|
Nice job.
Tabby behaved very much like a cat. Felt true.
| 2
| null |
SurvivorType
|
t1_c5j457w
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5j4b7w
| 1,343,221,650
|
t3_x3itq
|
Thank you!
| 1
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5iw64x
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5j6xtb
| 1,343,233,415
|
t3_x2b58
|
On reddit you can put a line break... just hit enter, then hit enter again, then type five dashes ----- like that, then enter again, then enter again and then start something else.
-----
So it looks like this. :)
| 1
| null |
RyanKinder
|
t1_c5iv16n
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5j71f6
| 1,343,233,777
|
t3_x3itq
|
You won this prompt before I could even think of anything to reply with myself. lol.
| 2
| null |
Beelzebunny
|
t3_x4yub
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5j7hhh
| 1,343,235,377
|
t3_x4yub
|
Words: 100
---
The realization of what he'd just done petrified Trey Smith. There must be a keystroke that sends emails to my entire contact list, he thought. He checked his sent mail again and confirmed that he had, in fact, sent a very personal picture of himself to everyone he knew. His cell phone rang. Better ignore it, he thought. It rang again; it was a different person this time. He ignored that one, too.
Then an email from his boss came in response:
"Trey,
Very hot. How did you know I liked hefty men? Let's hang out some time.
Needfully,
Lisa."
| 6
| null |
[deleted]
|
t1_c5iv16n
|
WritingPrompts
|
c5j7jzs
| 1,343,235,619
|
t3_x3itq
|
[deleted]
| 2
| null |
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