One Eyed Men

Don't blame me. Blame the #muse and the #writingprompt

it is the day after the world went blind

the last man who could see gave in and bought a tablet

i am as blind as anyone

my screen

my virtual reality

my all i see

if i looked around i would see that they are all like me

if i peered up i would see them all in the worlds orbiting mine

walking i repost stolen memes of political bigots and idolaters

if i pause i might see her the girl so lonely that she surfs the singles sites

i might ask her our because she is just my type

she might not slice into crimson chords that spill her lifes painting on white porcelain tonight

i dont and she will

i might see the man in blue as he watches the computer and aims the gun at the transient

it could happen that the bum would turn from the darkness of the news in the store window

i could step in and stop the bullet one way or another

there is a chance

just one chance

that i would see the boy playing a game on his phone

scoop him up before he enters the road

some small hope i could wave down the bus driver reading the electronic map

if any of us could see we might stop the travesty of a child buried under moving steel

if any of us could see we would see it is the screens that make us blind

if we took off our three dimensional glasses we might notice the darkness

we might understand it replaced the truth they were meant to bring

we might just might find a one eyed man to stop us from setting the world on fire

we dont though

we stay blind

the child screams and the world becomes tinder

ashes in our mouths

if only it was taste we lost

instead of vision

#shortstory #art #artiss #author #Awethors #commentary #experimentations #surreal #writer #writing

Origin Story

So, the prompt this week led me down the path of choose your own adventure. So, I decided to experiment.

You did not realize it when you woke up this morning, but this is the day you become a super hero. Or you thought you did not, but obviously you actually did. You packed your lunch and went to school, as usual. You carried your cartoon lunch box, as usual.

Chemistry class started out like normal. Being partnered with the hottest girl in school distracted you though. Despite your shaking hands, and your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth you attempted to carefully mix the components to the specifications the teacher wrote on the board. But your partner's posterior kept distracting you. The fact that she was laughing at all of your lame nerd jokes did not help either.

At step five she asked you to the upcoming dance. Your hands were shaking so badly you could not measure accurately. The fact that you turned your head is the only reason the concoction did not end up in your eyes. So you still have your eyesight, and that's something.

As you said yes the toxic looking purple goo violently expanded. The foam covered your hands, causing a tingling sensation. There was no pain, but it was not pleasant. Eighteen hand washings later your skin is still stained violet. Your chemistry professor has assured you there are no harmful side effects from the compound you were creating. Still, it's hard to be sure.

Lunch comes after chemistry. Opening your box you find no trace of the meal you packed for yourself. Instead, sitting next to the empty thermos is a note. A note from your past self. You read with great trepidation, and trembling hands.

Dear me,

We have just had an accident. I ate all of our lunch for breakfast. This may seem greedy, but I promise there is a reason. The compound still on our skin will give us super powers, based on the next thing we eat. Choose wisely.

Love,

You

Obviously precognition and an extensive vocabulary will be amongst your powers. Your meal choice will determine the last and greatest of your abilities. Looking around you see a few options. You realize you must choose wisely as your responsibility to the world will be determined in this moment...

To gain X-Ray vision and start the path of a perverted gray hero, eat some carrots and turn to page 5.

To obtain mental powers such as mind reading and telekinesis, destining you for a secret identity revolving around government work after graduation, gobble some fish and turn to page 9.

For physical based powers and the life of a mindless bruiser that makes it on looks and charm without substance, grab some spinach and turn to page 15.

To choose the life of a villain and powers of darkness and danger, leave the school, snack on the nearest baby and turn to page 666.

In order to gain powers of domination, teaching, and creating obedience, swallow the note itself and continue on to the next page...

#shortstory #authot #Awethors #comedy #experimentation #writer #writing #writingprompt

In the Beginning - Pantomime

Part 30, stupid poem prompts.

Pain was his world now

Penance without reckoning somehow

Pleasure unknown

Pardons unsewn

Patriarchy fading in a world now owned

Pizza means something

Part understood

Purplish hazing

Plethora not so good

Pandemonium rising from under black hood

Plague bringing vermin

Passing for human

Patchwork dark sermon

Parceled by woman

Passing time until Armageddon

Pulsing putrescence

Purified by pain

Pulling the essence

Parlaying the gain

Plagiarized is the gospel of O'Reilly

#poem #shortstory #novel #experimentation #author #writingprompt #writer #writing

Mandy's Mission

This is very different for me. I'm not entirely happy with it but the children's story jumped into my head. Wish I was a little better at the younger voice.





Mandy squinted at the face on the phone, lifting the handset to stop the annoying ringing. She squeaked out her annoyance at anyone calling at the terrible hour of eight thirty.

“Sleepun’!”

The smiling face on the phone was fun during the day but it upset her in the middle of the night. The phone made its rickety warble as it rolled towards her on plastic wheels. The voice that came through was distorted but she knew who it was. Only Tommy would call so late.

“Car’s waiting outside. Get in it. Don’t ignore me.”

Mandy rolled over, looking into the warm, loving, glass eyes staring back at her.

“Everythin’s fine, Teddy. Don’t hog the blankets. Be back soon.”

Mandy saw Tommy’s “car” outside. He was nine, spoke in proper sentences and had the plastic toy jeep. He was a dreamboat, as her mama would say. Mandy didn’t like that he made her help Flinstone it from place to place but livery was dead, as her mama also said.

“Mission?” Mandy mumbled as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

“A money man. He needs help. Pops says the monster is riding him.”

Mandy didn’t need any more explanation. The monsters lived in closets. Kids saw them for what they were. When kids became grownups they usually stopped believing and left the monsters behind. Sometimes though, if the adult was very sad and lonely, the monster jumped out of the closet and into their body. When that happened…

“It’s po…ssess…ive him.” She sounded out the word, proud of herself for using a big’un in front of Tommy. Mandy knew bankers and lawyers were easiest for the monsters to get into. When the monster rode a person they hurt other people.

“Yep.”

“Wassa plan?”

It was the normal plan. It was Mandy’s first time carrying the weapon though. Tommy boosted her up through the money man’s window. She was very quiet as she reached out to receive the box. She heard the quiet shushing of the weapon’s workings sliding against each other. This would work.

She tiptoed to the edge of the bed. Small fingers pried open the box. Holding it high she whispered loudly.

“Wake up!”

Back in the car, mission completed, Tommy asked her how it went. Mandy smiled bashfully. Her voice soft but at least she wasn’t sleepy anymore. She looked at Tommy. He was no Teddy, but she might think about dating him when he grew up. Mama said most boys did that when they turned forty.

“No callin’ so late no more. You might wake mama and papa. They’ud worry if they knew our job.” Mandy scolded him, ignoring the question.

“Kay, but tell me. It worked?”

“Success. I released the weapon.”

“What happened?”

“Same as usual. He laughed the monster out of him.”

“I knew it! Grats on you first solo mission.”

“No monster can stand up to a box of puppies!”

#shortstory #author #experimentation #monster #socialcommentary #writer #writing

In the Beginning - The Second Sign

So... this is part nine, and it went really weird on me. The previous parts can be found below.





It’s just a little vision quest, she said. Pagans and heathens do it all the time, she said. Easy for her to say, she wasn’t the one going through it. Chester wondered if Adam ever wanted to go Irish husband on Eve as much as he did on Nicole sometimes. He thought about that as he fell.

It wasn’t all that bad really. Chester always wanted to try skydiving. This was like that, but without a parachute so it was a bit like flying. Except, then he remembered he didn’t have wings. So he had that weightless free-fall thing going on and it felt great. He even managed a smile, and to forget how annoyed he was with Nicole, for a minute. Then he remembered that he would regain his weight once the ground involved him in a hit and run accident.

No, he wasn’t flying but there seemed to be a hand guiding him anyway. It wasn’t him, and that loss of control was even worse. He zipped past mountains, cities, and rivers. The air stank of smoke that stung his eyes but through it he could see women in all of the locations he passed. Beautiful warrior women going about their daily tasks. As he came closer to the ground he noticed them noticing him. Each woman looked up with pity in her eyes and a sad smile upon her lips. Where was that coming from, and where were the men?

Chester noticed a yawning chasm in earth even more blackened than the air. Ember red glowed from deep inside what was obviously the sight of a massive explosion or a gaping hole to hell. The hand of fate, or whatever primitive god guided him directed his descent to that cataclysmic portent. Chester held his breath and closed his eyes, as if denial could undo his fate.

He careened down the shaft and found the men in the fortress of dirt at the bottom. They chanted, they chanted his name as they clanged together weapons of war both primitive and modern. Sweat, dirt, and blood soaked these scarred and tattooed men. Chester noted they were half naked and covered in enough leather that should his life actually one day become a holy book hipsters everywhere would take to their blogs to proclaim the obvious homo-erotic subtext had leapt from classics to religion.

Then his flight slowed, his body righted itself. He dropped the last few feet into a golden throne. He looked around and smiled. This is where he should lead the men? This wasn’t so bad after all. He closed his eyes.

He opened them and his hand at the same time to stare at the two remaining peyote buttons in his palm. In the background he heard Nicole. She was on the phone, telling her father how Chester had his vision. It was the second sign, and surely meant she was pregnant with a son. Could the end come soon enough?

#shortstory #novel #author #experimentation #writer #writing

In the Beginning - The Meeting

So my goal is for the rest of the year to use the prompts to string stories together into something that might make a novel. So I might be posting two some weeks, if I can always make it match up. I'm sure some weeks will get me and some will inspire a story outside of this one. But for now, here's the start.



In the Beginning – The Meeting

She had an ass you could bounce a quarter off of.

A disembodied thought floated along the river of Chester’s mind. Why now? The only girl to inspire such thoughts was Nicole in high school. Now the hinny of some soon to be trophy wife in the grocery store was… slipping out of view. Why didn’t he have the upskirt app on a hotkey? The woman turned and…

“Nicole?”

His one word question brought a smile that could melt the sun. Often, unrequited longing and distance left feelings reality found itself unable to match. Chester’s daydreams of long lost Nicole paled in comparison to her in the flesh. Not that he had her in the flesh yet. She agreed to lunch though, so he was well on his way if he did say so himself. Nicole turned out to be one of those rare women to grow more beautiful as she approached her dreaded mid to late twenties. Score one for Chester the MILF hunter.

Despite his odious personality and reprehensible hygiene practices the ex prom queen agreed to lunch. He missed the implications of something bigger afoot that such an agreement portended. Chester lived in a delusional world where his self-proclaimed title as stud of Harlow, Minnesota remained despite time and miles.

They met at Fusion, a restaurant both obviously and pretentiously named. Nicole found herself enjoying the experience in spite of herself. Once he showered and got past the initial shock of the hottest girl in his graduating class showing up in his town, Chester was a decent enough guy. If he would stop “accidentally” touching her thighs he might pass for human.

They reminisced over a traditional Harlow lunch. Rocky Mountain oysters, fugu, and foie gras. People said many negative things about the inhabitants of the small town but they were culturally diverse and accepting. At the end of the meal they were both laughing.

Nicole hated that. Snow bound slugs crawled inside her stomach and up her back. She had to break Chester’s heart and shatter his mind. What kind of woman would that make her? She hesitated as long as she could, laughing with him. All the while she languished inside until her soul died. With that pesky thing tagged and bagged she moved on to why she agreed to the date in the first place. It was time to crush a man’s spirit.

“Chester, do you think about home very often?”

“As little as I can. I have a good life here.”

“Well, you see, it wasn’t an accident that I found you. I came looking for you.”

“Oho! You couldn’t get the stud of Harlow out of…”

“Stop. Don’t ever call yourself that again. Do you remember the prophecy?”

“That thing the fucking Baptist moro…”

“My father was the preacher.”

“…ralists were always going on about? I remember it. Why?”

“It’s us.”

“What is?”

“It is, they are us, we are them.”

“Speak English.”

“The time is here and we’re the chosen ones.”

#shortstory #novel #author #experimentation #writer

That Unreachable Note

So, for the prompts recently I've been trying to experiment with things. I have getting the story out in few words where I want it. Now I'm working on things like more poetic description, describing without describing, and breaking out of my comfort zone. The descriptions here and using a female main character were what I wanted to focus on.


Mist curled through the valley like plumes exhaled from a smoking giant. Cadets stared daggers across the expanse. Graduation day, history stood ready for writing and repetition. Tablets washed faces on both sides with dimmed but sickly green glows as intense faces studied the lists. The handheld delivering the list was unique in being the only uniform piece of equipment.
Team Amazon perched east of the valley. Sheathed in leather, velvet and lace to emulate the style of a British dominatrix. Yet after four years in the hellish academy the ladies stood devoid of any femininity except the external. Empty soul cavities stripped of maternal instinct now lay bloated with pride and bloodlust, courtesy of the officers. Eden stood as their seeker, the nameless sisters hers protectors and backups.
To the west Team Mars stood, rigid as black powder riflemen. Adorned like Spartans with less shame and fewer body issues. The males contained nothing to empty them of, from birth they knew only war and service. Their seeker lived a faceless, nameless existence like his protectors. Men served only two purposes, military devastation and continuing the race. Only those who survived this indoctrination could receive a name and then only at the whim of the woman whose household they served. Thus it was, and so would it continue until the XYs finally triumphed on graduation day.
Behind the Amazons the sky tinted scarlet, dawning light punctuating the chill permeating the air. A cry from the battle horn spilled forth loud enough to tear the air asunder. So it began. So it always began.
Earth churned into muddy mist, turf tore free to fly like tiny green birds. These young, after four years training together, charged the bottom of the valley akin to slightly modest Picts. Today they were enemies, there could be no mercy nor surrender. A thin red film quickly colored the sky, filling it with the scent of genealogical rust. Metal clanged against metal as the symphony of honor lost and discovered began.
Eden absorbed the sensory banquet before turning to her task. The officers compiled the list in riddle and mystery. Her mind was sharp, her arm strong, and her legs quick. She would win the day. The first items came quickly, as simple things often do.
She read Captain Tripps from the list then collected the correct mushroom. The finger of the tear shedder led her to hack a branch from the appropriate willow. Twenty items on the list, Eden collected nineteen in less than an hour. Then she spied the last. She knew where to find it but it would not be easy to obtain. Thankfully she was cunning and patient as well as strong.
Cleopatra’s sister’s prize.
Eden smiled slow and wicked. Her feet carried her to the latrine to crouch and hide beside it. Her sword drawn, she meditated on the need. Eventually the commander’s man whore would come to do his business. Then the women would win the day, yet again.

#shortstory #dark #socialcommentary #writer #author #experimentation