# J. J. Maxx's Daily Dose of Dialogue!



## J.J. Maxx (Mar 26, 2015)

"Hello!" said Mr. Maxx, welcoming everyone to the thread. "I'm glad you are here!"

This thread is for all you writers to break out of your boring, description-laden prose and get your characters talking! I will post a prompt daily* and it will provide you with an interesting or unique situation where you would find dialogue being spoken. It may be two characters conversing with each other or one character yelling or seven characters chatting over dinner. Either way, we are going to focus on the dialogue, all but ignoring (mostly) the narrative.

Feel free to use your imagination to set the scene however you wish. They are your characters and they will have their own voice!

There is no word limit!

I highly recommend discussion on the prompts, including but not limited to saying what you liked about other entries. Of course, if you see a way for someone to improve their writing, let them know in a constructive and respectful way! We are all here to grow and learn! Oh, and have fun, because for me, there is nothing more enjoyable than writing dialogue!

So lets' get started!


*Prompt #1*One of your characters discovers an intoxicated man sitting in the middle of a busy street.


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## Mistique (Mar 26, 2015)

Ann - a semi drunk nineteen year old girl sits down next to him, ignoring traffic and says: "Is this fun?" She looks him in the eyes. "I've tried this with trains, but you're idea probably works better. Trains take forever to wait for!" She studies him a bit closer. "Are you planning on jumping out of the way in the last moment or are we going to risk it? See who hits us first. A bit like Russin roulette I guess. I've never done that before!"


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## J.J. Maxx (Mar 26, 2015)

Joel heard the screeching of tires and some shouting obscenities. Turning the corner, he saw a man in a brown overcoat sitting in the middle of the street. A yellow taxi driver was honking their horn at him. 

“Get out the road!” the taxi driver yelled. The man in the street didn’t seem to pay any attention to what was going on around him, least of all the irate cabbie laying on his horn.

Joel walked up to the man. “Um…Hey man, you should probably move out of the street.” 

The man looked up at Joel. His eyes were bloodshot and large bags hung under them. “Why?” said the man, slurring his words. “What does it matter?”

“Well,” said Joel. “Normally people stay away from the middle of the street, with the possibility of death and all that.”

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Not anymore. She’s not coming back. Nope. Gone. Gone forever.” The man pulled a bottle from his jacket pocket and took a long swig, almost falling backwards.

“Who’s gone?” said Joel. “Your wife? Did she leave you?”

The man looked up at Joel, as if suddenly realizing he was having a conversation with a real person. “No… My muse. My sweet, sweet muse is gone. Now, I am nothing.” More cars backed up down the street and joined in the chorus of horns. The man yelled at the cars. “Ya hear that! I aint anything no more!”

“Your muse? So, are you some kind of artist?”

“Eh? What?”

Joel could see this conversation wasn’t going anywhere and he knew the police would be paying them a visit shortly. “Look,” said Joel. “Why don’t we head over to the café and let me buy you a coffee. I think I might know how to get your muse back.”

The man perked up. “You do?”

“Yes, but you have to come with me right now.”

“Well,” said the man, hesitating. “Alright.” 

Joel helped him to his feet and pulled him out of the road. He wasn’t sure why he was helping him, but he was feeling extra generous and thought his karma could use a hefty deposit after the morning he’s had.


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## Mistique (Mar 26, 2015)

Wouldnt it be more fun if we didnt just respons to the prompt, but also to the one who had posted before us? A bit like an ongoing dialogue?


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## J.J. Maxx (Mar 27, 2015)

Mistique said:


> Wouldnt it be more fun if we didnt just respons to the prompt, but also to the one who had posted before us? A bit like an ongoing dialogue?



Mistique, this is a wonderful idea and if anyone wishes to 'piggyback' off of another persons entry, they are free to do so! The most important part of this challenge is just to write, write, write! I really want everyone to feel comfortable to take any of their characters, or new characters or famous characters and create the scenario however they see fit, just as you did. The only constant is to practice writing dialogue and learn from each other. I thank you for being the first participant in the DDoD!

~ J. J.


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## Mistique (Mar 27, 2015)

J.J. Maxx said:


> Mistique, this is a wonderful idea and if anyone wishes to 'piggyback' off of another persons entry, they are free to do so! The most important part of this challenge is just to write, write, write! I really want everyone to feel comfortable to take any of their characters, or new characters or famous characters and create the scenario however they see fit, just as you did. The only constant is to practice writing dialogue and learn from each other. I thank you for being the first participant in the DDoD!
> 
> ~ J. J.



I love writing dialogue so you are quite welcome. Hopefully there will be many more participants.


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## rcallaci (Mar 27, 2015)

(language)

_“What the hell are you doing in the middle of the street?_” shouted Tristan as she grabbed her intoxicated lovers’ coat lapels. _“Get up you old fool before we both get run over.”_

_“What’s the use; I lost it all, every penny that we own. Leave me here to die, and find someone of a nobler character to take care of you.”_ said her drunken paramour. 

Tristan could help but laugh at his flair for the dramatics, even in the worse of circumstances, such as the one they were in now. He was an idiot and a fool but he was her idiot and fool and to live without him was not an option. _“You didn't lose it all; as a matter of fact you didn't lose any of it. I set up a dummy account for you to invest in. I had my friend Pete, from work, act as your broker. I just couldn't let you invest on your own, knowing that you gambled our last bit of savings away. So get the fuck up and pull yourself together. Let’s go home.”... 
_


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## PiP (Mar 27, 2015)

"Mum, why is that man kneeling in the middle of the road?" asked Jack as the car slowed and then stopped.
"Looks like he's praying."
"Why is he praying?"
"I don't know."
"He's gonna get run down."
"Yes, and if he doesn't move soon we are going to be late for Church," said Melissa checking her watch.
"Do you think he's okay?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think we should ask if he's okay," Jack persisted as he opened the car door.
"No!"
"Mum, he could need help." 
Seeing the door open the man crawled towards the car.
"Get back in the car now!"
"But..."
"No buts."
Melissa cursed under her breath, "why the hell was the child safety lock off?".
"Mum, look he's being sick."
"Yes," cursed Melinda, remembering the recently opened hostel for the homeless which was popular with druggies and alkies. 
"Mum, why is he being sick?"
"Jack, will you shut that bloody door."
"I'm telling Dad you swore."
"Fine, but I need you to shut the door, now!"

The man stood and then swayed as he tried to steady himself using the car for support. Melissa held her breath as he yanked at the driver's door handle before pressing his contorted face against the window. Saliva and vomit decorated the glass and she recoiled in disgust.

"Mum..."


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## midnightpoet (Mar 27, 2015)

"George! Get you ass up!"

George, who was sitting in the middle of the street drinking paper-bag wine, looked up.

"Shakey.  Good man.  Have a swig."

Shakey grabbed him by the arm and lifted George up. "Come on," Shakey said. "They're throwing out pizza's down at Joes.  You gonna get yourself killed out there."

Ten minutes later they were eating stale pizza out of a dumpster.

"What you doing out there in the street any way?" Shakey asked.

George took a swig of half-empty bottle of wine he found in the dumpster.

"You know that one armed guy down by the mission?"

"Yeah."

"He's dealing for that drug guy over on First."

"Ain't surprised."

"He tried to put the bite on me, and I tole him - you know what I tole him?"

"I'm sure you're fixin' to tell me."

"I tole him my only drug was paper bag wine, don't want none of that cheap stuff either."

"You a wine expert, then?"

"Shut up," George said, smiling.  "Well, he beat the crap out of me and the next thing you know I was sittin' in a grease spot, dodging traffic."

"You need to go to the mission?  They got a nurse there."

"Nah.  Gimme another slice of that  pizza."


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## J.J. Maxx (Mar 28, 2015)

*Prompt #2*One of your characters has to explain the concept of death to an immortal alien species.


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## Deafmute (Mar 28, 2015)

"My god..." 

Adam had fallen to his knees. His mind couldn't wrap around the sheer impossibility of this moment. The being in front of him was not of this world. 

-Hello-

Adam heard the word echoing inside his head. "Hello..." he tentatively replied. 

-We need your help.-

"My help?" Adam squeaked. "What could you possibly need from me?"

A light appeared behind the being and two more aliens appeared carrying the limp body of a very old man. -This is our teacher. Ninety of your years ago, we brought him with us to learn about the first thinking creatures we ever met.- Adam watched as they laid the old man down on the grass at his feet. -We do not yet fully understand your culture. We need to know why he no longer speaks.-

Adam gently placed a hand on the man's head. It was cold. he moved his hand to the neck feeling for a pulse. "He is dead..."

The beings looked at each other and then back at Adam. -We are unfamiliar with this term.-

"You know dead. No longer alive. Heart's stopped. Checked out." he rubbed his arms, a cold feeling spreading over him. "What did you do to him?"

-We did nothing. He laid down one day for what he called sleep, and has not yet returned to his normal state.-

"He sure ain't sleeping now."

-This is not sleep?- Adam shook his head. -Then why does he not speak.-

Adam sputtered. "How do you guys understand everything I say and not know what dead is?"

-The teacher, explained many things to us, but he never told us of this dead you speak of.-

Adam chewed his lips for a moment, searching for what to say. "What happens when you get old? or sick, or hurt?"

The aliens looked at each other. -There was a time, when The Teacher, made strange sounds from his mouth and spent more time sleeping than usual. He told us this was a thing called sick. We do not experience this.-

"You never get sick?"

-Our bodies are projections to this plane of existence so that we may communicate with you. We do not have physical forms in our natural state.-

Adam's jaw hung open. _How am I suppose to explain death to an immortal? _His jaw worked open and shut several times as he contemplated what to say. Finally he had an idea. "This is dead." he motioned to the old man. "For us if we get too sick, too old, or just hurt we become like this. Forever. Your teacher will never speak to you again, he will never move, he will never even think another thought." 

The beings stood there for some time in silence. Finally the first one who had met him stepped forward. -I see. It would seem we need a new teacher. You have taught us much already. You will take his place.-

Adam was never seen again.


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## bazz cargo (Mar 28, 2015)

"Hmmm...What is death? Well my new found friends it is the absence whatever makes you, you. A change in the chemical make up, an adventure that all of us hominids are bound to take."

(-----------  ----)

"Never experienced it eh?" 

(----  ----- --)

"Well see this? It is called a gun."...


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## PiP (Mar 28, 2015)

As Tira stared at her mother's charred body, she started to cry. Not for her death as such but for the way she had died; condemned and then burned as a witch. If healing others through the powers bestowed on her by Morkon, the strange creature not of this world, then there was no God.

Morkon never uttered  words only conveyed his thoughts as he read hers.

"Why is your face wet?" He tilted his deformed head to one side his eyes penetrating to the very core of her being. 
"They are tears of sorrow."

His wizened fingers reached out and touched her face stroking the tears as he struggled to understand why a human's eyes leaked. Leaked with the same wetness they put in their mouth. He looked puzzled: they put wetness in their mouth and when it fell from their eyes and it was called sorrow.

"My mother is dead, Morkon."
"Dead?"
"Yes, dead."

In his invisible state he approached her body, oblivious to the glowing embers underfoot and the flames that still danced in her hair. He reached out to touch the body and turned slowly towards Tira whose thoughts were crowding his mind.

"Don't! She's already left this world, she's dead."
"Dead?"
"Yes, can't you feel her presence is no more? God has taken her soul and she lives on."

Morkon turned away. "Your God is not of your world he's of mine."


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## J.J. Maxx (Mar 28, 2015)

Joel needed a drink. Meaks was dead. His brain seemed to flop around inside his skull trying to process what had happened. It had been a trap and it was all his fault. Joel noticed the glowing blue creature was following him through the market. Ducking into a building, it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Tables scattered around the room with a few patrons lurking off in the corners and a tall, scale-covered man wiped down what Joel figured was the bar. He slumped down onto the stool.

"Do you serve drinks here?" 

A long, skinny tongue lashed out of his mouth as the man spoke. "Certainly. What would you like?"

"Something strong. Do you have any Jarrathian whiskey?"

"Of course," said the man. "Twelve credits."

Joel waved his hand over the counter. There was a small beep before the man poured the green liquid into a glass. The door opened. It was the creature that had followed him. He saw Joel and sat down next to him.

"Why are you following me?" said Joel. "If you’re looking for some kind of hand out you’re barking up the wrong tree, buddy. I'm pretty sure I just dumped the last of my credits into this glass." He took a swig and winced. 

"That liquid is not conducive to your physical health," he said.

"Yeah, well, that's not really the point."

"What is the point?"

"To improve my emotional health, mainly by means of bypassing it completely." Joel took another swig. His throat was becoming numb.

"Why?"

"Why? Because my friend of twenty years was just blown to bits. That’s not exactly something you want to dwell on. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Will your friend be joining us?”

Joel stared at the creature. “What? No. He’s dead.”

“Dead? I am not familiar with this term.”

“Really? Well sign me up to live in your universe, buddy. He’s dead. Gone. Shuffled off his mortal coil. Never to return. His time as a living creature has come to an abrupt end. Dead. How do you not know what dead is?”

“I am not from this universe. I am not familiar with the biological processes of the organisms here. I was not aware they end. When do they come back?”

Joel finished the last of his drink. “Never, man. Never. For all of eternity they will never exist again.”

“That isn’t factual. No matter which universe, nothing ever truly disappears forever. Your friend is not gone.”

“Well aint you a rosy glass of sunshine,” Joel snapped as he got up from the bar and headed for the door. He turned back to the creature. “Oh, and stop following me or will personally acquaint you with the biological process of non-existence.”


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## J.J. Maxx (Mar 28, 2015)

Ya know I really think I'm sold on the more European 'said he' than 'he said'. I don't know why I just like the way it sounds.

"There's no way I'm fitting down that shaft," said James.

"Well I'm certainly not going to," Liz said.

Yeah, think I might be turning a small, yet completely irrelevant corner.


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## rcallaci (Mar 28, 2015)

*Sun-Gods*

As the Starship, H.M.S. Darwin, was being pulled towards the sun to its doom, Commander Valerie Pistolla strapped herself inside the escape pod, and gave the commands for the pod to detach and launch. 

For the past five years the ship was her home and the thirty five crew members’ family. Now her ship was in a dead drift toward the sun and her crew dead.  She went over and over the events in her mind and still couldn't believe what happened…

_“Commander, a large object of unknown origin is being picked up on our radar. We’re sending out a recon bogie to gather more information before we make an attempt at First Contact.”_ Said Lt. Jeremy Broadlow; the scout pilot of the explorer pod, S.S. Minnow. _“Be careful, Jeremy, at the first sign of trouble …”dead air, “Jeremy, Jeremy, report! report!”_ The only answer the Commander received was white noise…

A few moments later her ship was caught in a type of force field. All the ships systems started to go haywire- the ships A.I. shut down and its engines stopped. Screams of terror and agony filled the commander’s ears as she saw her bridge crew being ripped apart. Her head felt like it was about to explode and the last thing she heard before blacking out, were her own screams.

She woke up in her quarters. All around her was a shimmering of reddish lights. One of the lights hovered over her head and spoken words popped into her mind.

_“We have probed your mind while you lay unmoving, and by doing so; we have learned the basic rudiments of your language and thought patterns. We have come to realize that you are a type of sentient being that we are unfamiliar with. We have tried probing other members of your species but they are unresponsive.” _

She needed to stay calm and focused. She said,_” They’re dead. You killed them and destroyed my ship.”
_
_“We do not understand what you mean by dead and destroy. Nothing in the universe can be destroyed or be dead. Everything is energy and energy may change in form and substance but it still remains energy.”
_
_“You have drained all the energy out of the corporal barrier that held it in place. Those bodies are now just husks of decaying flesh and bone. All thought and consciousness has been scattered into a billion bits of undefined energy streams.”_ The Commander watched with amazement as the red lights flickered frantically. The red lights than became one red light that washed over her and joined her in her suffering. They placed her in the escape pod with a message for her species:

_“The energy that fled from those corporal prisons you call body is now among us. Their consciousness and energy streams have joined with ours and made us stronger. Soon we will head to your realms to rescue you from the corporal goo that imprisons you. Salvation is at Hand…Rejoice…_


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## J.J. Maxx (Mar 29, 2015)

*Prompt #3*One of your characters attempts to break up with someone.


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## rcallaci (Mar 30, 2015)

*Apostasy*

_“Jesse, you’re the love of my life, I love you more than anything in this world and beyond. Your beauty is intoxicating, your brilliance and compassion inspires and comforts me. Without you I am nothing but a piece of meat waiting to spoil.”
_
Jesse blushed, a deep red upon hearing Jaspers’ confessions of love. Her body tingled with sweaty desire and in a throaty whisper said, _“Come to me my dearest Jasper, and let her bodies merge into one.” _But Jasper just stood there with glistening tears on his cheeks and a look of despair. _“What is it my love, you seem to be in distress, tell me what troubles you; no secrets should ever stand between us,”_ proclaimed Jesse.

Jasper took her in his arms and looked directly into her eyes and said,_ “I’m an Apostate. I love you more than God Itself; I’ve condemned myself into the pits of hell, for no man or women can be loved above God. I need to join the Monks of Clementine, and go off in the mountains to meditate and seek Gods understanding.”_

Jesse‘s heart skipped a few beats and when she finally digested his words fully said, _“I hope you and God make a wonderful couple together-but He may not like the taste of weasel and the stink of skunk…"_


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## PiP (Mar 30, 2015)

The telephone rang and I flinched instinctively. Without checking the number display I knew it was him.
"Georgie?" I pressed the speaker button so I did not have to touch the telephone. The mere thought of him twisted my stomach in knots. How could I hate someone and love them at the same time?
"What!" I barked down the phone like the small yappy dog that goes through the motions yet is too terrified of his own shadow to bite back.
"Georgie, come on love, please come home."
"Jonty, we've been all through this before, you know I can't. It's not going to work."
"We can make it work, if we want to," he pleaded.
"I can't do this." My thoughts turned to my father with his stiff Victorian bigoted principles; he would never accept Jonty, never. Yet how could I sacrifice my own happiness to please him? Tears flowed freely as I considered the two men in my life. I would never please both and neither would accept the other.


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## J.J. Maxx (Apr 1, 2015)

*Prompt #4*One of your characters returns home to find a stranger in their house.


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## JustRob (Apr 1, 2015)

This could so easily be an excerpt from my novel, but it isn't because things happened a little differently there.
Well, you did say to use our own characters and Lucine and Graham are out of work until I start writing again.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucine went to put the key into the door to her flat but as soon as she touched it the door pushed open. 'Surely I didn't leave it ajar,' she thought. Cautiously she walked in and was startled by a young man who jumped up from the couch where he'd been sitting.

'Hello Lucine,' he said, 'Do you remember me?'

'No I do not,' she replied, 'I don't know how you got in here but you'd better leave right away.' It occurred to her that she'd backed into the doorway as she spoke and that he'd have to approach her and squeeze past to comply, something that didn't appeal to her, but he seemed as put out as she did by the situation.

'Oh no, I'm so sorry. I really didn't want this to happen,' he blurted, 'I should have phoned you but I just came round and then the door was ajar and I peered in and all those memories came back. But if you don't remember then this must be terrible for you. Oh God, this is a mess.'

Lucine was perplexed. This man was deluded apparently or playing some appalling joke, but she was having trouble regarding him as a threat, which itself didn't make sense. 'You don't really know me, do you?' she said. 'Why are you here?'

The young man sighed. 'You're Lucine Jones, age twenty, who, if I have my dates right, recently split up with your boyfriend James. Did you throw away that uncomfortable nightdress that he bought you, the black one? I actually liked it on you but I could understand if it wasn't comfortable or if it reminded you of him. Your mother named you Lucine because you were conceived during an eclipse of the moon on the other side of the world and she said that you were meant to be a moonbeam but the earth got in the way, so you became her sunbeam instead. Do we need to discuss who your father was? I'm sorry, that was cruel, but maybe also convincing.'

Lucine was shocked. Even James hadn't known about that. For a moment she'd thought that he'd put this man up to this to spite her, but this was more than that. She sidled further into the room, her own room. 'How do you know all that?' she asked.

'You told me. In fact I think you told me about the eclipse of the moon when we were in the shower, but if you don't remember perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned that. Look, I'm sorry for all this. I'll give you my phone number and if you do remember anything then please, please, please call me. If you do you'll realise how important it is to both of us. I ought to go now.' He made a move for the door, then turned back. 'I wrote my number on this piece of paper just in case. I was going to leave a note but I just had to see you again. The first time that we met I kissed you without even asking and we were complete strangers then. Now even though I know you so well I wouldn't do that. I suppose that's because this is reality.'

Now she was entirely confused. 'You mean that we didn't really meet at all, that you've been misleading me,' she said, feeling the anger rising in her mind. 

'No, we met in your dream, but I don't want to go through all that again. You were pretty drunk by the time I finished explaining it last time. Look, maybe this is all that's necessary to resolve this. Just take my hand in yours. Perhaps a kiss isn't necessary.' He held out a hand, a strong hand that could grab her in a moment, but something drew her to him. Perhaps it was just curiosity about what he knew about her.

'A kiss certainly isn't on the agenda. The door is wide open and I'll scream if you try anything,but ...' she said, reaching out to touch his hand. As she did so he made no move but let her wrap her fingers around his. She felt silly doing it for no obvious reason but then the reason made itself known, a tingling sensation that spread rapidly up her arm and into her mind like a wave of effervescent soda. In a moment the memories came flooding back, riding on that wave. 'Oh Christ Graham, how could I have forgotten,' she gasped.

'Very easily,' he said taking her in his arms and hugging her. 'Come on then, prove that you remember. Kiss me the way we did before.'

She kissed him and time stood still, or so it seemed, while they caught up on that other time spent together in another dimension of reality, in a time beyond time somewhere in eventuality.


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## rcallaci (Apr 2, 2015)

*The Facilitator (language)*

I felt a sense of foreboding as I opened the door to my flat. Being a professional facilitator may have a lot to do with my feelings of impending doom but it’s the price you pay for being in the business that I’m in.  I just finished a job and I was beat. I just wanted to take a shower, feed my dog, and go to bed. As I headed toward the kitchen I felt the cold steel of a gun pressed against my back. 

_“How does it feel knowing that’s it’s not your hand on the trigger-- you sick son of a bitch. Don’t move! If you turn around I’ll put a hole through your back,”_ said the shithead who had that gun in my back. _ “Who the fuck, are you, and what the hell do you want. If you’re here to kill me, then what are you waiting for, if not, then a little explanation would be in order.”_ I said in the most neutral of tones. _“I called it off, but you killed her anyway; my kids now have no mother”,_ said the weeping asshole who still had a gun in my back. 

As he wept, I back kicked him in the groin, and dived out of the way of the gun. As he dropped to his knees, I picked up his gun where he dropped it, and shot him in the head.  I was pissed, how, had he known where I lived. There was a leak in the organization and I needed to put a plug in it fast. 

As I went into my bathroom to wipe the blood off my face, to my horror, I saw my dog gutted like a calf. It was now my turn to weep…


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## J.J. Maxx (Apr 4, 2015)

*Prompt #5*One of your characters defuses a bomb.


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## RhythmOvPain (Apr 4, 2015)

J.J. Maxx said:


> *Prompt #5*One of your characters defuses a bomb.



Sergeant Max Cline took a deep breath and stepped through the open door  of the towering structure. The power had been off for no more than ten  minutes and the evacuation was still in effect, but the lobby was  desolate and seemed darker than it should have been at seven twenty A.M. He took  note of the officer standing at the information desk with a phone in  his hand and made his way over.

The officer finished his conversation and put his phone away, then extended his hand. "Sergeant, I just got the message."

"Where's the bomb located exactly," Cline said while shaking the officer's hand.

"It's on the second floor inside the chief editor's office, located inside his filing cabinet. When the secretary came in this morning, she found the note located on _her_ desk."

Cline put his hands on his hips and looked over at the emergency stairwell as another member of his team, Frank Drisco, escorted three more people through the door into the lobby.

"Are there any more civilians up there?" he asked the officer without looking.

"There shouldn't be."

Cline looked back at the officer and nodded, then darted over to Drisco. His subordinate saluted and said, "sir, we have ten minutes before this thing stops ticking. I need you to come with me right away!"

Cline nodded and followed as his subordinate led him through the door and up the stairs. When they made it to the second floor lobby, they were met by two more of Cline's team, Amber Simpson and Mike Hilt.

"Sir," Simpson said, "we successfully removed the shell of the filing cabinet and we've finished inspecting the device; it's got three main wires, two grounded wires, and a timer, and most likely contains C4. It consists of two main parts - likely to amplify the blast wave."

"How much?" asked Cline.

"Not quite enough to take the building down, but enough. The liquid nitrogen didn't have any effect for some reason."

Cline closed his eyes and thought about the situation, then said, "alright, Hilt and Drisco get the hell out of here."

The two men looked at each other, then back at their Sergeant and saluted, then left without saying a word.

"Alright Simpson," Cline continued, "it's just me and you now. You already know that I would do this if it were my call, but I have the utmost faith in you."

Simpson took a deep breath and nodded. She turned around and looked at the doorway to the editor's office, then made her way in. Cline took a few steps forward, but as she made her way through the threshold and over to the filing cabinet, he lost sight of her.

"Report!" Cline yelled out

"Clock's ticking down sir! We've got two minutes!"

Cline backed away from the door a little more and turned off his radio, which was against protocol but helped him focus. "What color are the wires?"

"One is red, one's blue, and one's yellow! The red one is connects from the clock to the device; the blue one connects the device to the trigger; the yellow one connects the two parts of the device! The ground wires are both green!"

"Take it slow Simpson!"

After a brief moment of quiet, she responded. "I'm cutting the yellow wire!"

Ignoring everything that told him to leave the room, Cline braced himself to jump out into the hallway. Sweat dripped from his brow as his nerves began to creep up, but he refused to leave Simpson's side.

"Yellow's down," Simpson called out, "I'm cutting the ground wire connected to the main device!"

"Be careful Simpson!"

In a matter of seconds a giant fireball engulfed everything in sight.


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## Plasticweld (Apr 4, 2015)

J.J. Maxx said:


> *Prompt #5*
> One of your characters defuses a bomb.




We called him Joey, not Joe and certainly not Joseph.  Maybe it was because he wore his hat tilted to one side, he thought it looked cool yet only it managed to make him look like the punk who never finished school; his over use of the word Dude did not help

Joey held our lives in his hands.  We were going to die!

Like a comedy skit from a TV sitcom Joey tried to figure out which wire should be cut; It made none of feel any too secure about our future.  He was brave, I’ll give him that.  Hunched over the bomb while we cowered and  did everything to make ourselves as small.  The walls and the lock door held us captive, we would have front row seats to what happened next.

Joey looked up, a smile on his face.  He was either confident that he knew he had the right wire or convinced no matter what he did, it would be screwed up just like everything else in life that he touched. 

I bit my lip said a short prayer and realized at least he’s smiling.


----------



## J.J. Maxx (Apr 4, 2015)

Plasticweld, great job, but I couldn't help but notice the lack of dialogue! 

I want to hear Joey use the word 'Dude' at least twice!

Cheers.

~ J. J.


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## midnightpoet (Apr 4, 2015)

"Oh, shit!" Benson said, sweating.  He got on the phone.

"Carl, I don't know which wires to cut."

"Why?  Always cut the red wire first..."

"They are all the same color!"

"Okay, calm down.  The building has been evacuated.  If you need to leave, leave. What does the timer say?"

"There isn't one.  The damn thing isn't even ticking.  Wait.  I just found an off switch."

Click.

"Oh damn, it's clicking now!" Benson took a deep breath.  The bomb let out a hissing sound and was quiet.

Carl was one the line.

"Benson, what's going on."

"It's a dud, Carl.  Fake bomb."

Carl cringed as a loud explosion rocked the building.


----------



## Plasticweld (Apr 4, 2015)

J.J. Maxx said:


> Plasticweld, great job, but I couldn't help but notice the lack of dialogue!
> 
> I want to hear Joey use the word 'Dude' at least twice!
> 
> Cheers.~ J. J.



JJ anytime I  click on any of the challenges I promise myself I will not leave until I write something. I am somehow convinced myself that I am supposed to be able to whip something up in a matter of minutes that the reader would find riveting.  I intended this to cover just a few seconds of time, the main character summing up the situation in a glance.  I came in on the Activity Stream saw the prompt and never looked at the title of the thread/

I tried to let the reader use their imagination and visualize what is going on, I should have read the instructions thread title first




Thanks for putting this together it was fun...Bob


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## Plasticweld (Apr 4, 2015)

J.J. Maxx said:


> *Prompt #5*
> One of your characters defuses a bomb.




“You’re drunk!” 

“Maybe just a little.”

“Just what do you think you’re going to do with that?”

“Gonna defuse this sucka, you’ll see!”

“If those cadets could see you now… some role model you are!”

“I’m the best…best there ever was…that’s why I’m the teacher and they’re the students. You just watch me, I’ll show ya.”

“No one cares that you can defuse a fake bomb… You do remember its fake right?”

“Humm... I uh … I guess.”

“You’re drunk!”

“Maybe just a little.” 


 [BB1]


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## Crowley K. Jarvis (Apr 5, 2015)

It's always refreshing practice to give a chunk of life to your characters through speech. Here goes! Laughing @ Midnight and Plastic's... 

Mine is kind of similar, except in my own crazy world. I don't know if anyone remembers Edmund but he still lives in my mind.  Believe it or not, the third half of the nine thousand year timeline in this world is resulting from magical BOMBS, and one of Edmund's many goals is actually to defuse them, so this prompt actually gave me some inspiration for how the dialogue might progress! What a coincidence!  

Also, yes, I change her name in the middle of it. My entire novel will be weird like that, as is Edmund.  

I think I got a bit carried away--- So I'll just link to it, haha. Might as well put it up in fiction now that it's so long. 

So there it is:http://www.writingforums.com/threads/156099-Of-Bombs-and-Names-855-words?p=1848120#post1848120


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## Zeynith (Apr 5, 2015)

(Mild language)

“How’re you doing over there?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see a damn thing in this blasted suit. Every time I breathe it fogs up the window!”

“Calm down. Just take a deep breath. In through the nose; out through the mouth… are you doing it?”

“Yes...”

“Okay. Have you gotten the panel off yet?”

“Almost. Removing the final screw now. Annnnd… off.”

“How does it look?”

“Like a bomb.”

“Kate. This is no time to be a smart ass.”

“Looks pretty standard… shouldn’t be too hard to… uh oh.”

“What?”

“The opening is too small, the damn suit won’t fit!”

“Okay, just calm down.”

“If you tell me to breathe again, I swear I’ll come over there and slug you.”

“Just come back, we’ll send the rover to finish.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m right here! A couple wires and it’s done.”

“If the suit won’t fit, we have no other choice.”

“That’s it. It’s coming off.”

“Kate, no! It’s against regulations, you could get hurt… Kate… Kate! _*Sigh* _You took off the suit didn’t you?... Can’t hear a word I’m saying… just sitting here talking to myself... ggrreat…”

“Alright, all finished here! Heading out. You can send the retrieval unit.”

“Ggrreat…”


----------



## rcallaci (Apr 5, 2015)

*Temper Temper*

(language)

_“ssshhh, don’t make a sound, I need to concentrate,” _whispered Ricardo. 

_“If you need to concentrate then we’re all doomed,” _shouted Christina. _“Make a decision, red or green, use your gut, not your brain, for we all know you’re not the greatest thinker in the world." _

“_Now is not the time for insults or hasty decisions. Why the hell are you shouting and trying to get me pissed off. This is a life or death decision and I need you to shut the fuck up.”
_
Christina turned red with rage. No one ever dared talk to her like that. She was the Queen and he was just a plaything, a drone for her amusement. But he was a capable soldier with experience in defusing bombs. She decided once he defused the bomb she would have him executed. She smiled at him and said, _“Forgive me my dearest Ricardo, I will keep quiet and let you about your business.” 
_
From the look in her eyes Ricardo sensed that he was a dead man either way. _"I think I’ll choose the red wire although my gut screams for me to choose green…"_

B o o m​


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## JustRob (Apr 5, 2015)

My characters just can't get away from their own little world somehow, so they're still in the context of my novel. No time for me to read this through today, lacking a time capsule myself, so this is a raw draft. A nice theme for Easter though, don't you think?

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

‘I just need to wedge this slip of paper between these contacts.’ John’s voice from the intercom was steady, confident, surprisingly so for a man who’d already died twice today.

The explosion rocked the building and the security screen in front of them went dead.

‘Take us back,’ barked Adrian, standing at Graham’s side. Graham slid the controls on the panel in front of him forward and Adrian vanished to reappear on the screen sitting at his desk in his office upstairs with John seated in the armchair by the desk as always.

‘Go again Graham!’ John shouted unnecessarily loudly, ‘We’re losing a bit more time each time.’

Graham pulled the controls back again and the time capsule returned to that mysterious place outside of time and reality where they worked. On the screen he saw Adrian rush out of the room as John went over to the panel of three clocks on the wall and unfastened it. The bomb concealed behind the panel had already exploded three times killing both Adrian and John the first time and John alone the other two. Adrian came into the control room to stand by Graham again. Maybe it would be third time lucky for John.

‘I don’t understand any of this,’ Graham said, ‘Why would anyone plant a bomb inside a time capsule but not here in the control room? They must have known that we’d just keep turning the clock back until we found out how to defuse it. But then maybe they didn’t count on us having someone as doggedly determined as John. Why is he doing this? We could have just evacuated the building and repaired the damage later after the first explosion.’

‘Ah, I think I’ve got it this time. There you are you little beast. No need to cover your ears this time chaps, I think.’ For a man who’d already died three times John seemed to be in remarkably good spirits.

‘That’s why,’ Adrian said, ‘It’s common knowledge that he expected to take over from me as director years ago and when he shot me dead to save my life in that incident with the gunman a few weeks ago I realised how deep-seated his feelings really are. He needs to prove himself and this is a golden opportunity for him. Anyway, with the bomb intact we’ll have more of a chance of finding out who planted it and why. I’m not sure that they knew what we do here and maybe they just wanted to get rid of the top people, not the technology itself. It’s just as well that the control room is so well protected.’

‘And that the others got out uninjured,’ Graham said, ‘Have you ever considered stepping down so that John can take over?’

‘I’ve given it some serious thought but John’s all action and sometimes it’s better to think twice or even at length before acting. Maybe if he keeps killing himself through hasty decisions like this he’ll develop a more philosophical attitude. Then perhaps I’ll reconsider my position. He’s a good man but for now I’d rather the moral responsibilities were on my shoulders for his sake.’

‘You have to be pretty philosophical after what he’s going through. What’s it like, dying I mean?’

‘Best over with quickly, I’d say. John was right to shoot me when I was fatally injured anyway. I just wish he’d hesitated a little more before doing it. I do wonder whether he was fulfilling some hidden desire when he did it, but I know he acted for the right reasons. Have you noticed that nothing’s happened yet, by the way?’

‘Yes, got it!’ On the screen John turned triumphantly to the camera in Adrian’s office. ‘Take us back again Graham if the batteries still have enough life in them. I want to be sure that I’ve got this procedure off pat before we do it for real.’

Do it for real. That was the acid test, staying in reality with the temporal field turned off while he defused the device for the last time.

‘Do you think he’ll be that confident when he does it for real or will his hands shake?’ Graham asked.

‘You know John. When he’s sure that he’s right he’s solid as a rock. I may regard that as his greatest weakness but today it’s his greatest strength. Of course if I’m wrong then we’ll just have to pray for a genuine resurrection and they’re very rare occurrences.’

‘A genuine resurrection? You are joking aren’t you?’

Adrian smiled. ‘Faith and trust, Graham. Always faith and trust. Take us back again, just to be sure though.’

Graham pushed the controls forward yet again and his constant companion, Katie the control computer, returned them to reality and that still ticking bomb only minutes before. As she did so Graham knew that Adrian, the most philosophical scientist he’d ever met, was no longer standing behind him but back in his office where he’d probably always be.


----------



## J.J. Maxx (Apr 7, 2015)

*Prompt #6*One of your characters gets fired.


----------



## midnightpoet (Apr 7, 2015)

"What do you mean I'm fired?"

"We need the position for the new hire, Randy, and you're expendable."

"And that is?"

"Veronica Tanner.  She's an upcoming new talent and we need to hire some females of her caliber.  Sorry."

Randy stomped out of the office and came back after a few minutes.

"I want to show you a little video, Mr. Stephens.  See, it shows you and Veronica getting it on doggie style over your desk.  I bet you didn't knows I planted several cameras in you office.  I bet your wife would be very interested in these."  

Stephens lit a cigar.

"My boy, how would you like to be the new vice-president?"

Afterward, Stephens entered the executive washroom and made a quick call in his cel.

"Vito, got a job for you, name Randy Bell.  Usual fee will be sent to the Caymans.  Make it look like an accident.  Yes, do it today."

He placed another call.

"Oh Veronica dear, I just wanted to confirm our dinner date.  Good.  See you there."


----------



## rcallaci (Apr 8, 2015)

*Employee of the Year*

“You’re firing me? I don’t understand why you would do such a foolhardy thing. I’m your most productive and valued employee.”

“That is the reason why we’re firing you. You’re just too damn good at your job. You set the bar to high. Your colleagues can’t keep up with your extraordinary work habits. You’ve made many of them feel inadequate and worthless.”

“I don’t understand? Why not fire those that are incompetent rather than those who are not.”

“If we did that we would then only have you left. Twenty Nine inadequate workers can still get more things done than just one outstanding one. You’ve become toxic to the workplace. Pack up your desk and get the hell out of here.”


----------



## PiP (Apr 8, 2015)

Ian drummed his fingers nervously on the desk as he waited on Eric to arrive for his  disciplinary review. Emma, from Human Resources sat to his left, flipping through the papers in Eric's staff file, while the Operations Director, Alistair, or Alligator as he was affectionately called due to his snappy moods, stood to his right studying the staff holiday calendar. Veterans in their respective roles they made Ian nervous.  Nervous and uncomfortable. He was new to management and this was going to be a toughie.

Five minutes late Eric shuffled into the room and barely acknowledged the panel of three before him.

"Good afternoon, Eric," said Ian.

Eric grunted an inaudible acknowledgement of sorts. More a nod of the head than verbal politeness.

"Please take a seat," said Ian, pointing to one of the two vacant chairs  in front of the desk. His voice, sounding steadier than he felt, waited until Eric had stopped fidgeting with some papers in an old plastic carrier bag. 

Ian was about to speak when Emma broke the silence. "Where is your Union Rep, Eric?" 

Shit, thought Ian, the guy should not be here alone.

"Threw a sickie, dunno..."

"Is there anyone else who will stand as your witness?" continued Emma, in her cool professional voice.

"No, the warehouse manager said he couldn't spare anyone. Big shipment due out."

It was now Ian's turn to fidget as he stole a glance at the operation's director whose gaze now rested on him. The man was a heartless pig. Did he really need to sack this poor old guy just before Christmas? The way Mary flirted with all the guys in the factory with her short skirts and low cut tops revealing her ample cleavage; there should be a law against it in the workplace. She should be the one sitting here not Eric.

"Eric, do you know why you've been called before a disciplinary panel?" asked Ian. God, how he hated this job.

"Mary said I groped her"

"Did you?"

"She was asking for it. She was rubbing herself against me in the corridor. I thought she wanted it."

"You know what thought does," muttered Alistair. Recalling his encounter with Mary when she offered to work late and he found her in the mens' toilets with Dave, the warehouse supervisor.

"Please don't lie to us, Eric," said Emma bristling with indignation. Men, they thought just because the goods were on display they were there for the taking.

Eric, rummaged once again in the plastic bag and then produced a screwed up piece of paper which he handed to Ian. There was no mistaking Mary's handwriting: _Meet you later, same time same place. I've got something special for you. xxx 
_
Ian passed the note to Emma, and Alistair, reading the note over Emma's shoulder, reddened. 

Eric stood up and then looked menacingly at the trio. "Half the men are at it. so if you think you're gonna pin something on me on her say so, think again."



[I'm not sure how to reference the content of  the note)


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## Plasticweld (Apr 9, 2015)

I had waited a long time for this.  I smiled my best fake smile while reaching out my hand, reminding myself of what the Dale Carnegie book had said about the proper way to greet people.  I took his hand, grasped it firmly and looked him in the eyes.  This was going to be fun!

“Billy so good to see you, it’s been what-- maybe 15 years or so?” 

“I go by William now, but yeah it’s been at least that long.” 

“I guess William will take some getting used to, you have always been Billy to me, but hey that was back when we were just kids.”

“You’re not holding any grudges then, I mean we were just kids, ya know kids will be kids right?”

“Billy—I mean William that was a long time ago, we’re adults now, that was just kid stuff.” 

“I appreciate that, I thought you might hold it against me.”

“No—no I’m bigger than that, I just want a good man for the job.  You do your best for me and I’ll do my best for you.” 

Billy turned to leave, I could visualize sticking the knife in his back.  He would learn what torment really was.  Learn to find out what it is like to worry.  It would be long and it would be painful.  Build them up knock them down; yes I had waited a long time for this!


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## J.J. Maxx (Apr 9, 2015)

*Prompt #7*One of your characters is in the middle of something important and is asked to do something trivial. _(Let's try some sarcasm!)_


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## Deleted member 56686 (Apr 9, 2015)

Dr. Howard was in the middle of a heart operation when he was interrupted by the hospital administrator. This administrator had access to every part of the hospital no matter what time, or what was being done. 

"Excuse me Dr. Howard. Can you sign this form?" The administrator seemed rather insistent.

"Not now. Can't you see I'm in the middle of an operation?"

"But Dr. Howard, I cannot permit you to operate on this patient until you sign this form."

"Well, I'd say it's a little late now, wouldn't you?"

"Nevertheless. I need you to sign this form."

"I can't sign it now. I'm holding this man's heart. Scalpel."

"Don't give him that scalpel, nurse."

"Do you want this man to die?" The doctor was becoming a bit incredulous.

"No. I want you to sign this form."

"Nurse, hold this." Doctor Howard grudgingly went to the administrator. "Where do I sign?"

"Right here, in triplicate. Do you need a pen?"

"No I can sign it in blood." 

And with that, Dr. Howard signed his name with his finger, still covered with the patient's blood.


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## rcallaci (Apr 10, 2015)

*Breakfast*

Wow, I said to myself as I read “mustards” take on the prompt. It was brilliant with a kicker of an ending. There is no way that I can top that. How dare jj make such a difficult prompt that only a humorist such as mustard could write …

“Honey you’re breakfast is getting cold,” bellowed my wife.

“I’ll be there in a minute “I bellowed back.

“Get off that damn computer and come and eat your breakfast,” screamed my wife.

“Just a few more seconds, dammit,” I screamed back 

“Don’t you swear at me you old fart, your breakfast is in the garbage. I hope you starve,” cried my wife. 

Interruptions, interruptions: now where was I –yes, I need to write a prompt...


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## Phil Istine (Apr 10, 2015)

Will Wright was putting the finishing touches to his entry on the 
internet forum.  Just ten minutes remained until the deadline and 
he was still scrabbling around for the right words.  It had been a 
while since he had won any of the writing challenges, so his ego 
was feeling fragile.
  Then the phone rang.   The voice on the other end went straight 
into the spiel.
  "Accident?  Five thousand pounds Mistah Warighat."
  "Mister who?"
  "Warighat."
  "It's Wright.  Can't you read?"
  "It right, you have accident?  You claim five thousand pounds."
  "No, that's wrong."
  "Ah sorry.  You name Mistah Wong?"
  "No, no!  For pity's sake.  Why do you guys keep bugging me?"
  "Mistah Nono?"

  Will made to stand up and walk away from the phone.  'Let the idiot just prattle on to himself.  See how long it takes him to realise that no-one's listening.'  As he stood, he trod on his carelessly discarded tea cup, twisted his ankle and fell over.
  He was unable to get up so decided to phone his neighbour for help.  Snatching the receiver he heard,
"Mistah Nono.  Accident?  Five thousand pounds."


----------



## J.J. Maxx (Apr 11, 2015)

*Prompt #8*One of your characters wakes up in an empty, locked room with a solitary camera pointing at them.


----------



## Crowley K. Jarvis (Apr 11, 2015)

*-The Old Man, the Swan, and the Bugs-*

"Looks like I chose the wrong pill then." Viscol said to himself, and looked straight at the camera. 

"Ahh...Now why on earth are you interested in seeing what I'm doing? This room's empty. Door's locked. Perhaps you want to make sure I'm not using any more magic, hm? Oh no worries. It's too cramped for spellcraft in here..."

Viscol looked down at his leg, it had been scraped and red clay clung to the wound. Several bugs crawled on the ground around him. "I see you've left me some companions here...I think I'll name the centipede...umm...Sir Leggington. Those shelled ones will be the Beetles."

Viscol picked up a few of his new friends, who nestled calmly in his palm, without protest. "Fear not. We won't be in here much longer, no, not much longer at all. You see, those fools behind the camera, they think I'm much dumber than I really am."

"You see, friends, I own a very distinct pocket watch. It's inner workings are purposefully shaped, you see. It's tick and tock are quite loud. Distinct. It's a shame nobody thought to take it from me,  after they'd bagged me up. Counting the ticks and tocks, the car ride was about three hours and forty six minutes. Now there's only about two towns that far away."  Viscol laughed, and looked down at his leg a second time.  "And only one of those towns is full of this muddy, red clay, yes? I'm in the Berhg aren't I?  And you thought I was just a frail old man, falling down again? You should've knocked me out much sooner then when we arrived." 

"Speaking of which, I couldn't have been unconscious for much longer either. I'm hardly stiff at all. Meaning, we haven't left town yet have we?" Viscol grinned at the camera, tilting his head. "Oh, and another little thing you forgot... I keep a nice little notebook in my coat. A pen too, yes. You really shouldn't have taken such a rusty old car. It's practically full of holes."

Viscol's grin only grew wider. He began stroking his beard between words. "Yes, yes... and what a granddaughter I have. Eyes like a hawk, that girl. She's always looked after me. Yes, she won't need my note to tell her how long I've been gone. Nor where I am. Rather, I imagine it'll be her confirmation. Knowing her, she's probably ran off to one town and sent someone else to the other. Most likely. And once they see my well folded paper swan in this red mud, they'll know where to look, I imagine."

Viscol heard gunfire and shouts erupt from the other side of the door. As it calmed down, footsteps came. The lock tumblers shook and the door swung open. 

"Aah, there you are, Thirfa! I was worried sick about you!" Viscol said, laughing. 

"That's my line." Thirfa said. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" 

"I'm fine, dear, just a little scuff."

"How long have you been in here?" Thirfa said.

"Oh, maybe a half hour I suppose. I took a little nap. Say, have you seen my origami anywhere?"

Thirfa held out the crumpled paper swan in her hand. "I found it in the mud outside. It's a good thing you're always making those. I won't ever complain about them again."

"Won't you help me along home then? I plan to make a few for my new acquaintances."

"Your new...what? Those bugs?"

"Oh yes. Thirfa, meet Sir Leggington and the Beetles. Their families are long gone...they've nowhere else to go... Can't we at least have them over for tea?"

Thirfa sighed, and shook her head, laughing. "Sure, grandfather. Sure."


----------



## rcallaci (Apr 11, 2015)

*Game On  (Language)*

Looking directly into the camera lens, I calmly screamed, _“Who the fuck, are you and why am I here, you piss ant pieces of shit”_.  I’ve been screaming at this camera for days with the same results: Silence.

 For the past few days I haven’t been in the best state of mind, so please forgive my manners for those who happen upon these recordings. I’m using the recorder that was left by these cowardly bastards to tell my side of the story, which isn’t much to tell, knowing full well that this is an empty and futile exercise. 

_“At least let me have something to sit or sleep on. Sitting and sleeping on this cold tile is putting a chill on my bones.  Say something, anything you sadistic worms.” _

Ten days ago the world as I knew it came to an end. The last thing I remembered before waking up in this empty room was seeing my wife’s and child’s heads in my lap. _“You monsters killed my wife and son, no, no, no- what is this place- Don’t make me remember-shut that fucking camera off.”_


Looking directly into the camera lens, I calmly…


----------



## J.J. Maxx (Apr 14, 2015)

*Prompt #9*One of your characters finds a crying groom/bride in a bathroom stall.


----------



## RhythmOvPain (Apr 15, 2015)

I ain't writ jack in weeks. I'm forcing this one.

Jacob had spent more time than he wanted with Victor in the past few months. They had only just met in September, and now it was February and here he was, best man at the guy's wedding. It wasn't like Victor was a bad guy; he spent a lot of money on his house, he had a great car, and he was in the kind of shape Jacob couldn't dream of achieving. Serenity should have been glad to marry him.

His character, however, was enough to make him somewhat bothersome in large doses. His boisterous disposition and lecherous nature, combined with a penchant for expensive liquor made him the life of every party, but a total asshole in private - that was where Jacob came in.

The 3D television, though! The Dolby 8.2 surround system and X-Box 1; the PS4 and PPV events! How could anyone refuse to stick around with so much to distract them from how big of a dickhead Victor really was. Jacob had nothing but love for the guy; after all, he didn't have many friends, so he treated Jacob like a brother and let him do whatever he wanted. If _anyone_ should be best man it was Jacob, and he couldn't deny it if he tried.

The service was wonderful, really. Victor spared no expense; he wouldn't even let Serenity's parents pay for the dress. Everything was flawless, right down to the cake - a majestic twenty-two layer angel and devil's food cake with assorted icing and fruit. The bride's maids were all gorgeous, the flower girl was cute as a whip and performed her duties meritoriously, and the audience was in tears when the couple finally kissed. The reception went over great, until Victor's stomach finally caught up with him.

Jacob didn't know how many drinks he actually had - mainly because he was too busy getting plastered himself - but he knew that Victor hadn't eaten anything all day, and that he was mixing drinks before the wedding even started.

The whole affair smelled of disaster from the get and Jacob was surprised that it took as long as it did to fall apart. Victor and Serenity were sitting at the table and enjoying their wedding cake when Victor's phone went off right on the table, face up. Serenity obviously knew who the girl calling him was judging from her expression, but when Victor answered it on speaker, the first thing the girl said was "When are you going to get away from the bitch hon, I need to see you as soon as possible." That by itself might have been enough to elicit a response, but the giggle that came after it propelled Serenity from perplexed to Godzilla in about two seconds. 

The argument was laughable; Victor was too drunk to even defend himself. Serenity screamed, cried, attacked him, threw a bowl of sour cream at him, then stormed out in her wedding dress. The party was a shambles, no one could figure out where Serenity went, and Victor was throwing an explosive fit that the priest himself couldn't stick around to watch. 

Jacob had to escape; he was desperate for a smoke. He got in his car and drove to the nearest gas station, then bought a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of water. As he started to make his way out of the store, he suddenly realized that he had to pee. He turned around and asked the clerk for the bathroom key, but the clerk told him that there was already someone in there.

"She pulled up around the back and ran out in a wedding dress. Damnedest thing, never saw anything like it before."

"You gotta be shitting me," Jacob said, "that's my friend's wife! She just ran away from the reception! She's in the bathroom right now?"

"Yessir, but I wouldn't get involved in anything like this. You can knock if you want, but I ain't goin' out there with you."

Jacob nodded and ran out to the the car, then threw his groceries on the seat and jogged over to the bathroom. He really had to pee. He knocked on the door hard enough to grab her attention, then called out.

"Serenity! I'm not here to tell you to go back or anything, I don't want to bother you! I know you're upset, and you have every right to be!"

"I'm not coming out!" she yelled back from behind the door. She was obviously crying.

"Serenity! Honey, it's not that bad! Victor's a dickhead, but he really loves you, and darling, you've got to understand that he's just adjusting to being a... dedicated partner? Look Serenity, he just talks to other women when he's drunk! He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his relationship with you! You're the only woman he doesn't talk shit about!

"FUCK OFF JACOB!"

"SERENITY! I HAVE TO TAKE A PISS!"

A long silence took hold of the situation, and Jacob stood firmly in front of the door with his legs bowed, holding back what was quickly turning into a rushing torrent in his urinary tract. The alcohol in his system was definitely starting to take effect, because the door started wobbling almost immediately after he screamed. He gulped, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The toilet flushed and the door opened.

Jacob opened his eyes and gawked at Serenity's face. Her mascara had run all over, her face was red, and her hair was a mess; her dress was covered in cake icing and sour cream, and her left shoe was missing. She was a total wreck.

"It's all yours," she said, and turned around, covering her eyes and sobbing uncontrollably.

Jacob looked over at her for a moment, then made for the stall. He closed the door and pulled down his zipper, then went about his business.

"Serenity!" he called out as he urinated, "you know, Victor really loves you! He tells me all the time! Maybe you should consider, you know, giving him another chance or something!"

"Jacob, shut the hell up!"

"Okay!"

After he finished and washed his hands, he came out and saw Serenity sitting on the side of the gas station, still crying. He looked up and down the road, wondering where the hell Victor was. He started walking towards Serenity, but his legs were starting to get wobbly from the alcohol, so he teetered a bit as he made his way over. Serenity looked up at him and chuckled a little through her tears. 

Jacob smiled and wobbled up to her, then plopped down next to her and let out a sigh. "Victor is a dickhead."

"Yes," she replied; her voice was clearing up a little. "I guess I'm just a little insecure, but there's really just so much to love about him... it's a shame that he's so much of an asshole."

"He's not always an asshole."

"He's _always_ an asshole when he drinks, and he stays an asshole when it comes to things he did when he was drunk. I refuse to be subjected to a marriage with someone I can't trust."

"Honey, the wedding's over. You're already MARRIED. Maybe you need to think this over a bit, I mean, Victor put so much effort into making this day special for you. Are you really going to let some bitch he met in a bar get between you and a lifetime of-"

Serenity cut him off with a scoff, then said, "of what? Money? I have money. Happiness? I can be happy just as easily with my girlfriends than I am with Victor. Hell, I'm happier right now with you than I was with Victor twenty minutes ago. Fuck Victor. I already signed the prenup anyway. In a couple months I'll own his fucking house."

She let out a laugh. Jacob sat silently and meditated on what she said.

"You mind if I come by once in a while and play the games?"


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## J.J. Maxx (Apr 18, 2015)

*Prompt #10*One of your characters goes to confession.


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## Phil Istine (Apr 18, 2015)

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."
"Yes, I know."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Well, you wouldn't be here if you hadn't."
"I guess not Father."
"Any good tips for the three fifteen my son?"


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## rcallaci (Apr 18, 2015)

*The Confessional*

‘”Bless me Father for I have sinned, It’s been two thousand and fifteen years since my last confession.”

“Is this some type of joke, this is a confessional not a bar” said the angry priest.”

“I assure you Father that this is no joke. I've been carrying around this guilt for over two millennia and I need to get it off my chest.”

The priest looked through the confessional screen and into the eyes of the confessor. He choked up in fear. Those eyes were not human. In a unsteady voice he said, “I will hear your confession.”

“I've always felt bad about tempting that poor fellow in the desert. That made him think; that he was truly the Son of God. In fact he was nothing more than a deluded carpenter’s son. God abandoned this world and left it to me ages ago. I was just having fun with the human race but it backfired and gave false hope to humanity. I here to set the record straight and  to tell you that hope is dead…


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## NathanBrazil (Apr 18, 2015)

The elderly priest’s eyes blinked a few times and then closed.  His head drooped.  The oppressive heat in the confessional and the lack of customers had made the priest weary.  He awoke when the door to the other compartment slammed shut, shaking its flimsy structure. 

“Bless me father … I have sinned.”  From the timbre of the voice and the stumble on the words of the greeting, the priest felt certain that the confessor was a small boy.  The priest slid back the small wooden door and confirmed that this was a very small boy indeed.

“Aren’t you a bit young for confession?”

“I’m 9!”  The boy was squirming on the bench.

“Have you ever given confession before?” 

The boy shook his head and began swinging his legs back and forth.  “My mom says that I need to confess.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done that needs confessing.”  The priest smiled, remembering typical confessions from young children.

“I punched a boy in the throat.”

“Why did you do that?”

“He called me a runt.”  The tempo of the leg swinging increased.

 “Well name calling is certainly no cause for fighting.  Do you feel sorry for what you have done?”

“No.  I wanted to shove a needle in his eye.”  The boy had ceased swinging and was now staring at the priest.

The priest paused and considered his next words very carefully.

The boy climbed on top the bench and laced his fingers through the screen.  “I like the sound of blood.”

“You mean the smell of blood?”

“Uh, uh.  I jabbed a pencil in one of those smelly, dirty, ugly birds.”

“A pigeon?”  The priest’s voice was barely a whisper.

The boy nodded his head.  “And it was leaking blood.  I listened real close and it whispered to me.”

“What did it say?”

“Jared?” asked a women somewhere outside of the confessional.

“That’s my mom.  I gotta go.”  The boy hopped off the bench and left his compartment.


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## J.J. Maxx (Apr 20, 2015)

*Prompt #11*One of your characters gets pulled over by the police.


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## J.J. Maxx (Apr 24, 2015)

*Prompt #12*One of your characters meets Satan.


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## tdelozier (Apr 24, 2015)

*THE PRE-APOCALYPICAL CONFESSIONAL*

"Father do you want to help me out here? I've never done this before. How do I start?" she asked as she stared around the small box she was sitting in.

"I see" the pastor began, "so are you not Catholic?"

"No father I'm not Kathy, my name is Brittany", she replied, starting to think this wasn't the best idea.

"Ok, Brittany, you begin by saying, "Father forgive me for I have sinned"...

"Ok ok so Father forgive me for I have sinned. Is that it? I'm kind of in a hurry". she said eyeing the door she just entered.

"Ok, daughter, now please tell me of your sins so that I may help you", the Father replied, thinking to himself how lost humanity really has been. No wonder we're being bombed on a regular basis. They have all strayed from God.

"Ok Father, but before I do, could you tell me where the nearest Jewish temple is?" she asked trying to plan her next stop.

"And why do you need to know that, my daughter?" the Father asks, wondering where this is going.

"Because, Father, no body knows who the real deal is anymore and I figure if I cover all my bases I should be in good shape for the after life you know? Just in case. And, remember, I'm in a hurry here." she said, growing clearly anxious.

At this the Father bows his head and prays silently...yes, humanity is truly lost.


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## tdelozier (Apr 24, 2015)

OOPS! Looks like I was a little out of order! Sorry about that!
T


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## rcallaci (Apr 25, 2015)

*No Virgins for You*

“Why do you make me suffer in this wasteland of desolation and despair? I did all that you asked of me and more. I killed, lied, cheated, bared false witness amongst my peers, and raped and pillaged nations in your name, only to be cast aside in this pit of brimstone and fire.  You promised me immortality, a thousand virgins and riches beyond my dreams if I did your bidding. And I did! You should be rewarding me, not punishing me like some insignificant worm.”

“My dear Osama, I’m afraid that I misled you. I’m happy to say that I’m not Allah, God, the Divine or whatever He is called. I must admit I had a lot of fun with you but you are one gullible idiot.  I’m Satan, The Prince of Lies and you've been skunked…”


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## NathanBrazil (Apr 26, 2015)

_Jake, behind the cash register, has the snub nosed .22, taped under the counter. He’s a scrawny dude, pushing 50, and he’s got the shakes – no way he’ll be able to shoot straight.   Sheryll, an elderly lady in a ratty, pink robe and slippers carrying a sixer of Michelob.   She’s a regular.  It’s time. _  I reached for the 9 mil under my belt, when I heard the double ding of the front entrance.

A man wearing a dark leather jacket, blue jeans and black leather boots, entered the liquor store.  His beard and mustache were neatly trimmed, and he had long, slicked-back, blond hair.    The click of his heels echoed dully, as he moved toward the hard liquor aisle. 

_This isn’t right.  Not how I pictured it. 
_
I pulled out my 9 and shouted, “Alright, you know what this is!”   Jake reached for the gun.  I panicked and shot high and wide.  “Hey!” I said.   Jake’s hands shot up.   Sheryll squeaked and put one hand to her mouth, clutching the six pack close to her chest with the other.  I walked around the counter, pulled the .22 out of its holster, and tucked it into my waistband.   Jake’s arms were still up, but they were shaking so bad, I almost felt sorry for him. 

“Oh, my god,” said the man in the leather jacket.  He walked towards me, holding a quart of Jack Daniels.  “You’ve got terrible timing.”

I pointed my gun at him and said, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You don’t seem to understand.  I’m not on the clock right now.”  He set the bottle on the counter.

“Are you an idiot?”  I waved the gun in his face.

“Look.  I’m going to pay for this, and I’m going to walk out of here, and then you can do whatever the hell you want.”  He offered me a twenty.

“You’re not going anywhere.  In fact, empty your pockets.”

“Jesus Christ!  You’ve got to be kidding me.  You’re not getting it-”

“No.  You don’t get it!”  The gun was getting warmer in my hand.  _A gun warmer_, I thought idiotically.   “You’re not supposed to be here!”   _Not supposed to be here.
_
The heat from the gun became unbearable.  Unable to keep my grip on it, it fell and landed between my feet.  _The .22.  I’ve still got the .22.
_
He shook his head.  “You must be a very special breed of stupid.  You had your chance.”  I was frozen in place, mouth agape.   With the long nail of his forefinger, he etched something into my forehead.  “Now you're mine.”

He slapped the twenty on the counter, and walked out of the liquor store with the bottle of Jack in tow.


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## Phil Istine (Apr 26, 2015)

deleted.  Sorry.  I totally messed up the formatting.  Please delete as I can't see how to do so.


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## Phil Istine (Apr 26, 2015)

*One lump or two?*

It was a sunny Sunday morning and all was good in Jeremy's world; the sun was shining, the sky was an azure blue and the birds were busy building their homes.  The angst of his early life was a faded memory.  The tears of yesteryear had long since flowed down the drain - like summer rain washing oily stains from the road.  He had grown accustomed to family estrangement; the price of sanity can be high.  The pending apocalypse seemed more distant than ever.

Then, the doorbell sounded its warning.

Jeremy eased his door open, just a little, to be greeted by a smiling young couple offering him warm greetings.  They seemed like any decent young couple.  He was smartly dressed with suit and tie, sporting a thin moustache and she wore her hair just past her shoulders.  Her top was modestly attempting to hide her prominent breasts.  Jeremy tried hard not to ogle.

"Good morning sir. We are calling on yourself and your neighbours to ask an important question," said the man.

Jeremy recoiled. "But I already know who I'm voting for."

"It's not about politics sir. What we are asking people is whether or not they feel sufficiently messed up and vulnerable to join our religion - before it's too late." The woman nodded her agreement.  Jeremy tried not to look.

"Religion? Too late? Too late for what for Christ's sake?"

"Sir, it's not for Christ's sake - it's for yours. God will be destroying all the unbelievers any day now. You can be one of the chosen few from seven billion people. We are here to save you." The woman nodded again.

"Errr thanks - I think," said Jeremy, "Why would God want to destroy seven billion people - most of them seem reasonably decent - up to a point?"

The man looked at Jeremy, sincerity oozing from every pore, "It's because people have offended Him. They refuse to kneel down and worship Him regularly. Some of them even nailed His son to a lump of wood."

"Lumps," corrected Jeremy, "there were two."  He flushed, embarrassed.

"Well, that's a matter of interpretation," said the man "but anyone who believes there were two lumps will definitely be destroyed."

"Thanks a bunch. Actually, I don't believe there were any errrr, pieces. What will happen to me?"

"Well that's not quite as bad as two lumps but to be honest, I'm not sure." The woman nodded.

Jeremy paused for thought, "To be frank with you, I don't believe this stuff and I'm really not interested. Thank you for your concern though."

"Be it on your head," said the man. The woman nodded again.
The couple turned to leave.

It was then that Jeremy noticed something quite peculiar - the little pointy tail protruding from the man's belt.


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## Deleted member 56686 (Apr 26, 2015)

*My dinner with Satan*

I couldn't believe my luck. Here I was sitting across from the girl of my dreams at a posh Italian restaurant. I didn't care that she was Satan in the flesh.

"So Satan, do you see anything interesting on the menu?" I was still trying to get to know her a bit.

"I like the linguine. They remind me of cute little worms."

"Interesting. I'm kind of partial to the Veal Parmesan, myself."

Satan shuddered. "Ooh! I can't stand the idea of slaughtering baby animals. Can we change the subject?"

"Well, okay Satan, my darling." I looked at her beautiful complexion and I had to ask, "so where did you get that wonderful tan?"

Satan let out a dainty giggle. "Oh, this? I got it sunbathing at spring break."

"Aren't you a little old for college?"

"Oh, silly, you should know we demons never age. Too bad Fritz did."

"Who's Fritz?"

"Oh he was my ex."

" Your ex? What happened?"

"Oh he had an unfortunate accident. He fell into a tar pit."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No it's okay. I have his soul for eternity now." Satan let out another dainty giggle.

We continued on our conversation, enjoying our appetizers when Satan began to show discomfort. "Oh, no, it can't be."

"What's wrong, darling Satan?"

"Nothing, sweetie.... WAITER!!!!?"

A nervous waiter gingerly approached. "Y-y-yes, Miss Satan?"

"There is a fly in my soup!"

"B-b-but Madam, the manager said you liked flies."

" No. you incompetent fool. I told him I like lice in my soup!"

"I'm sorry Miss Satan, I'll summon the manager." With that, he ran, strangely enough, for the front entrance.

Satan looked at me with a bit of disdain. " Tell you what. Let's blow this joint. I know of a great restaurant right down the street."

"Okay. What restaurant is it?"

"It's that one with the golden arches. I hear they have the best fries."

"Cool, let's go."

And with that I began my long eternal relationship with the girl of my dreams.


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## J.J. Maxx (Apr 28, 2015)

*Prompt #13*One of your characters is asked by a young child if God exists.


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## joshybo (Apr 28, 2015)

"How many stars are there, daddy?" my daughter's head swung from side to side, as though she were counting them one by one.

"A lot, sweetie," I chuckled.  "Billions and billions of them."

"Billions _and_ _billions_!?" Emily tilted her head, tapping at her chin.  "Wow.  That's a lot!"

I laughed and jostled her hair like I'd seen dads do in old sitcoms, "It's a whole, _whole_ lot, actually."

"Mommy loved the stars, too, didn't she, daddy?"

Her question caught me off guard.  I fought to keep the smile on my face as my chest sank.  "Yes, baby.  She did."

"Mommy told me one time that God made everything.  She said He made the stars and water and sun and the whole world!  He made me, too, she said.  Is that true?  Did God really make everything?"

At the time, I only half-heard her question.  All I could think about was Janie.  All I could see was her smiling up at me from her hospital bed, telling me that everything was going to be okay.  "I...I don't—" I stuttered, choking on my words.

"'Cause I just wondered why if God made everything, why didn't He make mommy better like I asked?"

I'd wondered the same thing myself every day for the past two years.  I still had questions, but in that moment my daughter needed an answer to hers much more.  "Sometimes people can't get better, honey.  Your mommy was really, really sick."

"So God took her to Heaven, so she could feel better?  Mommy told me that, too."  She looked down at the grass in front of her, plucked out a few blades, and sprinkled them back onto the lawn.  "I told her I didn't want her to go, but she said she might have to.  I wish she could have stayed here."

I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her to my side, kissing the top of her head.  Janie always told me how blessed we were to have such an amazing little girl.  For all of my struggles and questions, I couldn't discount how thankful I was to have Emily in my life—the brightest star in what sometimes felt like an otherwise pitch black sky.  She _was_ a blessing and I reminded myself of that fact.  "Don't worry, honey.  We'll get to see mommy again someday.  She's in Heaven, like she told you.  I bet she can even see us right now."

A quick smirk dashed across her face.  "You really think so, daddy?"

"I know so, sweetie," I answered, hugging her tighter.  "I've got all the proof I need right here."


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## J.J. Maxx (Apr 28, 2015)

Holy crud, josh... Give me a permission slip before you take me on the feels trip. 
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





Great writing!


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## joshybo (Apr 28, 2015)

Thank you, J.J.  I've wanted to participate in this for a while now.  I think this is a great exercise for our members.


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## Crowley K. Jarvis (Apr 29, 2015)

"Of course He does, sweetie." Edmund said. 

"How do you know?" Gaige asked, looking up at him. 

""Well... energy can neither be created nor destroyed, right?" Edmund said, smiling. " We still cannot explain how anything exists at all. Technically, nothing should exist. Reality should not be. Yet it does. But we still must believe that something can't come from nothing. And some genius would have me believe that the whole universe was, for some reason, in a little marble. And, one day, went boom. They want me to believe that atoms somehow bonded to make proteins and living matter, which somehow gained sentience. All with little proof aside from theory."

Gaige blinked at Edmund. He had never said more than a few words to her. 

"We still can't explain what consciousness is. Much less, what forces allow us to move. At least, at the molecular level." Edmund began to speak up. "Think of it this way. Isn't it a little TOO coincidental that we enjoy life?"

"What do you mean?" Gaige said. 

"Think about it. Everything we need is right here. All the food. Warmth. Water. And all of our physical senses are built to enjoy it. Food tastes good. We see beautiful colors, smell the flowers, have all the friends and pets that we need. They would write that off as developments that ensured our survival, but our bodies don't interact with our consciousness at such a level."

Gaige had more questions than ever. 

"Simply put: The earliest forms of life would have no way of actively monitoring their own needs, and thus no way of developing. If Life did spontaneously erupt...it would have-very quickly-died. And again, there would be no force or power to suddenly give movement to inanimate matter. Everything points to intelligent design. Something, someone, gave us life, designed us to enjoy it, and gave us a beautiful home to live on." 

Edmunds eyes shined with something Gaige had never seen him show before. She smiled up at him, though she didn't understand half of what he said. 

"And besides. If we all truly believed that...I'd have killed you and dried your meat for the winter to ensure my survival." A sudden, high pitch whistle interrupted him. "But here I am feeding you, you little monster. Now come on, before that tea kettle explodes."


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## NathanBrazil (Apr 29, 2015)

A young boy sat on the stoop next to his father.    The boy was on the top step, knees hugged to his chest, while his father was one step below.  The father leaned forward, shading his eyes from the sun with one hand.

“Hey, dad,” said the boy.

“What’s up, buddy?”  The father checked his watch.  _Just another thirty minutes before the Steeler’s game starts.
_
“Is there a god?”

_Jeez.  I thought I had a couple more years before the kid started servin’ me curve balls.  I gots me an idea.  _
“Nope,” he replied.

“But my friend Joey said-“ the boy started.

“Well, your friend Joey is a big fat dummy.”  _This is not going well.
_
“Da-a-d,” said the boy, looking over at his father disapprovingly.

“Isn’t that the kid that slipped and face-planted on the diving board at school.”

“No, that was Jacob.  He-”

“Ok.  Ok.”  _Time to try a new tack._  “God is the guy that mows our grass.”

The boy glanced at the lawn, then back to his dad uncertainly.  The grass was overgrown with weeds, except for a few dead spots in the middle.
“But the grass looks like . . .,“ he said, hesitating.

“Crap.  That’s exactly my point.  God is napping on the job.”   His back was starting to cramp up.  He stood, hoping to make a clean getaway.

“But mom said you’re supposed to mow the lawn.”

_Oh, boy.  _“Well mom can . . .  I think I heard mom inside.  Maybe she can weigh in on this.“

“Joey said that,” the boy continued, “we know there’s a god because of all the wonderful animals and plants that got created.”

“Like the weeds.”   He checked his watch again.  _Fifteen more minutes to game time.  Better wrap things up.
_
“Well, I guess so.”

“Do you think god made volcanos? and earthquakes? and diarrhea?”  He paused, letting what he had said sink in.  “And blood sausage and head cheese and pizza?  You know what?  God may have had a hand in making pizza, but I’m perdy sure that head cheese was made by the other fellow.”

“What other fellow?” 

_Game time!  _“I tell you what, why don’t we finish this discussion inside . . . over a beer.”  He walked inside, letting the screen door slap behind him.  The boy followed reluctantly.


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## Meteli (Apr 29, 2015)

(Starting point is cut from a longer story, I wanted to try to use existing story and characters. Story happens on another planet where people and rather random objects keep popping up without apparent reason for such spontaneous travel. It is sometimes not good for mental sanity. At this point one man that cracked picked a paint-thrower from somewhere and thought it is a real gun. It has now been confiscated... Aubergine is a tomboyish girl and Danae is a young woman. They do not use their real names, if you are wondering...)


Aubergine did have an assortment of things that could be called toys, most had probably been containers for food, or wrappings around fruit, bread and other foodstuff. Some were still containers, but Danae had also made simple animal shapes from the materials and Aubergine kept a zoo, or a farm, or went for hunting and hiding with those. I thought the paintthrower could maybe work as a watergun, or maybe more like a watercannon. Danae would not thank me for it, but Aubergine was the type who would probably love it. But where on Earth (or on this another planet in this case) had the man gotten it from?

    I was still musing about the paintthrower, and even aloud when I showed it to Aubergine. I guess me mentioning Earth had her thinking of the planet itself, and its maker.

    “Do you think God followed us here from Earth?”

    I was not a religious person, but had been one as a child and had honestly preferred God over other father figures I had on hand.  Still Aubergine had almost nothing here in comparison to my childhood relations. I decided to play along.

“God created the whole universe, he does not need to follow us to be present here.”

“Then why doesn't He keep us safe and get us all back home?”

Good question. I think that was one of the things I had asked about, but had been much older than Aubergine now was. My problems with God had been more on the philosophical kind, why there must be suffering and hardship and ugly things, if there was an omnipotent being who could just want to make things better and so would it be. 

“There is promise of a perfect world only after we have parted with this one. Life has always been a fight for survival and getting to higher ground. There is no growth without hardship, I guess. You have changed, you know things you did not know before.That is what growing up is."

“You’ve gotten thinner, not bigger”, Aubergine said. 

I was not sorry about that. “I’ve used it all to grow stronger!” She jumped at me and clinged on. I did still get breathless.

“Still, does He not feel for us?” Aubergine said after we had wrestled for a while.

“Maybe there is no other way around it. Maybe there are things we need to learn here, and I‘ve never had met you and leant to know you if not here.”

“Maybe we are doing something important here. Me and my brother, we did ask to be heroes, you know. He‘s doing it at home, and I got to be brave here.”

She did not ask why the gun man had to lose his mind for all this. I was wondering about that one problem. Maybe I could have asked about that and she could have had an answer for it, and so she did not have to ask that herself. Sometimes all you can have to know things is your intuition, and children have more of it than adults.


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## rcallaci (Apr 30, 2015)

*End of Days*

The winds of war had swept through our lands with the swiftness of lightning bolts and raindrops. As we all huddled in our huts, the moans and cries of those left on the fields of war, were but a hideous reminder of what awaited our tenuous fate. It was just a matter of time before we would be nothing more than dust, bone, charred meat and memories. 

“Daddy; are we going to die? Where’s Mommy? I’m so, so, scared,” whispered my little girl as she wrapped her little hands and arms around me.  

“Don’t be afraid, my little peanut, we’ll be seeing mommy soon. God and His Angels are waiting for us in our next life.”

“But mommy told me that God and the Angels was make believe just like the fairies and monsters that use to hide under my bed and in my closets,”  said my terrified little girl. 

“Yes, yes, mommy is quite right, but the world of make believe is a place called heaven. It’s where our imaginations and consciousness goes when our physical bodies are terminated. It’s a realm of magic and wonder where God is finally seen and heard. Mommy is preparing the way for us. This adventure is about to end but a new and glorious one is about to begin,” I looked into her eyes and saw that she understood and believed, as I too, took the leap of faith and believed as well. “Close your eyes; hold me tight and know that I love you.”


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## J.J. Maxx (May 3, 2015)

*Prompt #14*One of your characters meets an annoying hologram.


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## RhythmOvPain (May 3, 2015)

Robert Picardo sat on a gurney inside a large OR with several nurses around him. He was wearing a hospital gown and had several tubes and wires sticking out of him already.

"Mr. Picardo, we're very sorry but the doctor's been held up in traffic, so we're going to have to do the surgery without him. Don't worry, we've got an EMH to help with the procedure," the head nurse said

"A what-"

"Computer, activate the medical emergency hologram"

In that instant a holographic Robert Picardo wearing a starfleet uniform materialized out of thin air.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

Robert Picardo screamed so loud that he woke up, safe in bed with no tubes or wires sticking out of him, soaked in a cold sweat.

"GOD DAMN YOU RODDENBERRY!"

Stupid, but whatever. >>


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## Phil Istine (May 5, 2015)

*Mirror, mirror...  (mild language)*

 Kevin O'Leary scrutinised the old-fashioned dressing table, feeling a little bewildered.  The heirloom really would be out of place in its new house but he didn't want to appear ungrateful.  It was gratifying that his Aunty Shauna had remembered him at all as there had been no contact for a couple of decades.

    She had been quite reclusive in her later years - apparently with just her black cat for company.  The word was that she only had one regular visitor, a herbalist from some local flower shop.

    But this story is not about Aunty Shauna - nor about the herbalist.  This story is about Kevin O'Leary and the night when the laws of physics were flexed by a piece of very old furniture.

    For the most part it appeared like any other antique dressing table, legs ornately carved, scratches and scuffs from years of toil and even the obligatory split in the wood.

    But its mirror, that was different - unlike any he had seen before.  The shape itself wasn’t so unusual, it was more the hue or the feel - something that he couldn't quite define.  A shimmering frigid texture - or colour - that was mottled to the eye but smooth to the ear.  It wasn't quite visual, nor was it tactile or tangible; as if emanating from a place between two senses - though which two was hard to discern.  If we could hear with our eyes, what would we see?

    That mirror, he could hear it on the edge of his consciousness, buckling and bending, ripples, contortions, light mingling with time.

    Then came the half-heard whisper. 'Touch it.  Go on, touch it and you will see.'  Kevin looked around, 'The mirror?'  The half-whisper came again - more urgent this time, 'Yes, the mirror.'

    Kevin shook himself back to full alertness, ‘Touch - the - mirror?’  As his hand edged towards it he could feel a vague tingling along his fingers.  He was a little alarmed now but curiosity quelled his fear.

    He touched it.

    Nothing happened, but then a voice behind him startled him.
    “Hi arsehole.  No, I‘m not your fairy bloody godmother,” she said.
Kevin slowly turned, sweaty palmed, shoulders tensed.
    “Wh- who are you? How did you get in?"
    “Typical bloody man - never wants to know a woman’s name first.”
    “Hang on.  Are you the whisper from the mirror?” he asked.
    “Of course I am.  How else you think I got in?  Men?  I ask you?”
    “But who are you?”
    “At last.  A man wants to know my name.  OK arsehole, here’s the deal.  I tell you who I am and you help me materialise properly.  Deal?”
    “Err, deal - I think,” said Kevin.
    “Ok, ok.  Well, when I was material, I was the secret mistress of your great great grandfather.  He locked me in the mirror to stop his wife finding out.  He didn‘t ask my name first either - the dirty old goat.”
    “That’s pretty weird,” said Kevin, "and by the way, what is your name?”
    “I’m from the O’Gram family.  My name’s Holly.  Maybe you’re not such a bad arsehole after all.”


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## J.J. Maxx (May 7, 2015)

*Prompt #15*One of your characters visits a psychic.


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## rcallaci (May 11, 2015)

*Next Stop--Nowhere*

“I can see from your aura that you are a Philistine and a bit of an Ass,” cooed Jesilina Josephina Melodious, the state assigned psychic from the city state of Cransford.

“Who are you calling a Philistine; I’ll have you know that I’m a well respected expert on the nature of “Nothingness” or what we in the field call just plain, Nothing. I know a lot about Nothing and to call me a Philistine is downright hurtful. I may be an ass but working on Nothing is my passion.”

“Auras don’t lie, I can see nothing inside your head; you are nothing but an empty vessel spouting empty platitudes and nonsensical proclamations that mean absolutely nothing. You add nothing to our Great City State of Cransford. Go find something else to do rather than nothing and maybe than we’ll allow you to be a part of our great city”

“Are you banishing me? I was one of the City’s early settlers. I contributed a whole lot of Nothing to this city! What do I get for it-not nothing but something – a whole lot of crap?” 

“You’re being annoying now” whispered Jesilina the Psychic. Hurry up and pack your bags. The bus is ready to take you anyplace, but here, to a place we call  Nowhere…”


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## Meteli (May 11, 2015)

“I would like to know my fortune.”
“Why?” 
He did not answer me but kept staring at the beautiful lady, and I knew his mind was as fixated as his eyes.
“Maybe just read your horoscope? Several sites on the net have those daily for free. Which month were you born?”
I went to shake my computer awake, but my friend kept silent, standing on the other side of my room, head down like a stubborn bull.  He was cradling a deck of tarot cards with both hands. The blonde lady smiled dreamily at him from top of the boxed deck. He had picked those tarot cards up from my bookshelf. This deck was with a medieval witches theme, I also had several with dark fantasy illustrations, and also with alley cats, elves and dragons.
“I’m collecting tarot cards only for the artists and their illustrations, but I do not read fortunes with them. I’m not a superstitious person.”
“Open it.”
“Fine, I’ll just show you the cards, after all I think they look nice. But no funny business.”
When I opened the box, one card fell down on its own and landed showing its picture of three swords. The card signified pain to the heart as in an end for a relationship, it was a card of sorrow. I found it ominious how it got separated like that on its own.
My friend dived for the leaflet that came with the deck not caring that I was obviously trying to place it at the side and away from him. 
“Take ten cards for me. Here is how they need to be placed.” He handed me the leaflet but I closed it and put it in my back pocket.
“I just feel that if you force your fortunes with peering into the future before its time, you might the avoid things that need to happen because you do not see the bigger picture but just a glimpse.”
Frustrated, he picked up a card. It was five of wands, meaning conflict of egos.  It was always like this for me, the cards seemed to follow my situations very well, and it spooked me so that I hardly touched them.


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## rcallaci (May 28, 2015)

*The Dark Passenger*

As I was on the bus to nowhere going to who knows where, I took notice of a passenger in the back of the bus. He was covered from head to toe in a cowl and a long flowing robe. A large scythe lay on the seat beside him. It took me a moment before I realized that Death was just a short distance away. With a wave of His skeletal hands, He invited me to the back of the bus for a chat. With a slight bit of trepidation, I walked down the aisle to the back of the bus and sat beside Death.

With those dead eyes and a sloppy grin he said, “Don’t worry my friend I’m not here for you, it’s not yet your time. I, like you, was banished from the great city of Cransford by the powerful Sorceress and Psychic, Jesilina Josephina Melodious. She has decided to put the City in the state of stasis. By stopping forward movement and entropy the City Prompts will be neither nowhere in the stuff of nothingness or somewhere in the present or future, but locked only in the past..

I nodded sadly and said, “What are we to do”

Death smiled and said, ‘Wait, our job is to wait until her mood changes: that’s all we can do.” 

“What if it doesn’t change?”

“Then you and I will be on this bus to nowhere forever” said death with a very deathlike laugh…


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## Foxee (May 28, 2015)

*Beware the Corneal Sight*

“Welcome to Psychic Friends!”

“Gramma, you're not a psychic.”

“Yes I am. Ethel, tell my grandson--Did you meet my grandson? This is Henry, he's a good boy.”

“I'm twenty-seven, Gramma.”

“I knew that, I'm psychic. Now say hello to Ethel.”

“Hello, Ethel.”

Ethel gave me a bright smile, pink scalp showing through tight blue-white curls. Her wrinkled face seemed supported solely by the thick rolled collar of a pink quilted bed-jacket.

“Now, Henry, about Samantha. Your girlfriend.”

I winced. “Not my girlfriend.”

“But she will be.”

The other discussion would be far more comfortable than anything regarding Samantha Cole.

“Gramma, I've known you all my life. You've never been psychic.”

“Not until I had my corneal surgery.”

“Really. And that allowed you to see the future?”

“Among other things, my dear. Now, give me your hand. Good boy.” She patted it with her other hand as warm and soft as Gesundheit, the rag teddy bear she'd made me when I was a kid. “I just need to search your aurora.”

“Don't you mean-”

She waved it off. “Something like that, anyway. Shh.”

Holding me captive with one hand she waved her free hand up and down in front of my face a few times, eyes squinched shut. She opened them again and began to speak in what was,I suppose, her most fortune-tellery voice.

“You and Samantha will be happily married with seven children.”

“Grandma!”

“All right, six.”

She jumped a little, much like Ethel might have kicked her ankle, and spoke louder.

“In fact, this very evening, you will have dinner with Samantha.” Her voice changed back to normal, “Hello, Samantha!”

“Hello Mrs. Kaventza,” Samantha's long dark ponytail swung over her shoulder as she sat a tray of paper cups down, “I brought you some juice. Ethel? Would you care for any?”

I started to feel psychic, too. Also, very hot in the face.

“Why yes, thank you.” She took the cup with a trembling hand and a knowing look my direction.

I hoped Samantha hadn't heard.

“Samantha, my grandson Henry is taking you out to dinner tonight.”

“Oh really?” She gave me a bright smile. “I didn't know that.”

“I did,” Gramma said, “and your shift is over, isn't it.”

“I'll just get my coat.”

Someone kicked my ankle, pretty hard, and I startled to my feet.

“Here, Henry,” Gramma withdrew a five and two ones from her sweater pocket, “I've saved my Bingo money for you.”

She pressed the bills into my hand.

“It's all right, I don't- I mean, she might not even-”

To my surprise, Samantha was standing waiting for me, tray in hand, eyes dancing with delight.

“Will you?” Gramma asked her.

“Of course, Mrs. Kaventza.”

I gave up and took the money. I'd find a way to give it back.

“Off you go, then,” Gramma said, “and have a good time.”

Samantha and I walked side-by-side. I wasn't sure what had just happened and definitely wasn't sure what would happen next. I would have been afraid to ask my Psychic Friend.

“Best to just keep going,” Samantha said _sotto voce_, laughter trembling at the edges, “they can probably smell fear.”

As we left the room I heard my Gramma laughing and Ethel's voice rose.

“Oh! I thought you said _sidekick!”_


___________________________________________
I have to say, I really like the idea of this thread. Wrote this up much to the kids' disgust while cooking dinner ("Moooommm, I'm huuungryyyyy...") and really enjoyed the prompt. Thanks!  -F.

EDIT: Make that LOTS of edits. Holy cow I forgot how much this board hates Open Office.


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## J.J. Maxx (Jun 2, 2015)

*Prompt #16*​One of your characters meets their clone.​


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## rcallaci (Jun 4, 2015)

*The Bus Stop*

I walked back to my seat on the bus to nowhere after my conversation with death ended. I was about to take a nap when I noticed a fellow in front of the bus reading a magazine. To my astonishment he looked exactly like me. I walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. Without a trace of surprise he looked up at me with a crooked smile and invited me to sit down in the seat next to him. 

“Who are you” I said “and why the hell do you look exactly like me.”

“There’s no need to get all huffy and excited” said my duplicate “My name is the same as yours. I’m your clone and future replacement. I’ll be getting off the next stop and heading off to the indoctrination center.  Once fully programmed, I will take over your identity and head back to the city of Cransford. I’m slated to become the Grand Psychics Major Domo, Jesilina is looking forward to meeting the improved version of you. ”

“Not if I have anything to say about it” I said. 

“I’m quite sorry for you as I know exactly how you feel.  But the powers that be decided that you’re needed in the city of nowhere with death by your side. Don’t worry a great adventure is in store for you as well. It’s a win, win,” Said my evil twin. I turned to look at Death but he just shrugged his shoulders and nodded.  

The bus stopped and my clone got up and stepped off the bus.  He waved good-by as my bus sped away. Death strolled up to me and said, “I guess it’s just you and me Kid”


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## Crowley K. Jarvis (Jun 4, 2015)

Holy crap, what did I just write!? I have no idea where this came from, but here goes. 

It's very dark and I left out many details on purpose. Enjoy! 

*NOTE: Both main characters  have no lips. Dialogue is affected.*

*-Bunker #D-391, December 17'th, 2014*

"Now, Jarven, I'm going to need you to kill yourself." Said the female voice through a speaker in the wall. 

"Not that I o'ject, 'ut can I at least use a gun, so I don't ha'e to use my hands?" I asked. 

I heard her laugh. "No, nothing like that. Meet yourself first, then you'll understand."

The metal door opposite to me opened up. I heard footsteps through the dark corridor. 

The lights clicked on, one by one, lighting up my face, and his. 

He stood exactly at my eye level, thirteen feet high. His arms, disproportionately long , left his fingers dangling by his calves. His thin legs bent inward under the weight of his frame. His spine and ribcage were tall, extended, easily twice as long as his legs. Several additional muscles filled the extra space, giving him at least thirteen ridges along his stomach, and several new, long sinews adorned his pectorals. His face was just as stretched, and his jaw jutted out from his skull, leaving his mouth incredibly large. He had no lips, only sharp teeth and gums with stretched skin tore around it. His eyes were not the same. His left eye was blue, his right eye green, both hollow and deep set, ringed with lines and crows feet. His long, grey hair hung from his head and chin. 

He was exactly like me. 

" 'uat the hell..." He said, with my voice. 

"Meet your clone, Jarven. We created him when you were a year old." Said the woman. 

"What?" He said. "I'm...a....a..." Tears welled up in his eyes. 

"However," She continued, "Although we gave him your memories, and the exact same modifications, where you have succeeded in your tests, this Jarven has failed. You have proven yourself the superior original, in both strength, speed, and intelligence. You have passed your psychological exam and physical as well. Your final test is simple. Kill him. Then, we will release you from the bunker into active duty, in a militarized unit, among similarly augmented comrades." 

" 'Lease... I don't 'ant to die..." He begged, his long legs and fingers trembling. 

"You have an hour, Jarven. If you both remain alive, you will both be terminated, and your dependents will no longer be honored." 

He was crouched down now, hands over his head, sobbing. 

"One hour, Jarven. Goodbye."


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## rcallaci (Jun 15, 2015)

*A Fool in her Pocket*

Jesilina Josephina Melodious, the State sponsored Psychic of Cransford anxiously awaited for the clone Rupert Franklin Claudius to arrive. She put all of her resources on the line as well as utilizing her considerable reputation and influence in making sure the cloning project was a success. Now the fruits of that project was about to stand before her. Her body tingled in anticipation. 

There was a knock at the door. She waited a few beats before she replied with a response.  

“Enter” what a stupid thing to say she thought; ‘come in’ would have sounded so much better. She needed to get a grip on herself. A lot was riding on this project. She needed to charm him, not put him off. 

In walked the clone of her one time nemesis. She always thought of him as an idiot and a blistering fool but he was a brilliant idiot and a handsome one at that.  

“Madame Melodious it’s an honor and a privilege to meet with you. I know my original self was a hindrance and obstacle to your pathways to power but I assure you, I will be the opposite. I am at your command to do with me as you will and that includes leisure activities as well, if you catch my drift.” He said with a salty grin.

Her cheeks flushed and her lower extremities started to pulsate. Friends with benefits was about to take on a whole new meaning. She looked deeply into his eyes and was pleased with what she saw. They showed devotion and desire.

She led him to her bedroom and said, “Your council vote of Yay, to elevate me as its head and your turnaround to my cause will set the city of Cransford on its ears. I will be the new power behind the throne. Emperor Cran the 1st won’t know what hit him. Let’s put that aside for awhile and concentrate on more pleasurable duties. I must warn you I prefer to be on top”…


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## Citizen (Jun 15, 2015)

*Bob*

The public address loudspeaker let out a high pitched squeal and a finger tapped the microphone, and a voice said "Test, test.  Is this thing on?  Bob Koffey, please come to the office."

Bob looked up at the speaker and gave a dejected sigh.  His fellow workers cast their eyes towards him with unconcerned stares.  The steps to the office from the work floor made it seem like the person was condemned to death and they were making the walk to the death chamber.

Knock, knock.  The sound of him knocking on the door seems to echo down the hallway.

"Yes?  Who is it?

"Bob Koffey."

"Get in here!"

Bob entered the room and stood in front of a large desk.  There was a pair of white painted feet on the floor one full step away from the desk.  Behind the desk sat a humorless man, aged in his mid-fifties and a bit hefty in the middle, who had little use for clones but was resigned to the fact they were semi-useful to the business.

"Bob, I called you to this meeting to tell you I am going to let you go."

"Let me go?  But I thought I was working out well here."

"Hardly.  You have screwed up the production line over a dozen times and put us back three and a half months.  Hell, our customers are complaining."

"Let me explain, boss.  The belt keeps catching on one of the support members and breaks.  Maintenance has been called to fix it a bunch of times!"

"Shut up!  I don't want to hear it.  I have a more serious thing to discuss with you in this meeting."

Yes, sir.  What is it?

"I have found out from my wife that you and her have been having an affair."

"Oh."  Bob's eyes widened.  "I can explain that.  She was lonely and needed attention and I happened to be having a drink in the same bar where she and her girlfriends were having an after-shopping belt.  It was all very innocent!"

The boss frowned and pressed the red button on his desk and a trap door opened under the two painted feet.  Bob dropped through the hole in the floor with a loud "Aiiiiiiiiiiigh" that trailed off into the silence.

The trap snapped shut when the boss released the button.  He sat in the big leather chair and thought for a moment and picked up the phone.

"Hello.  Production floor." came the voice.

This is Bob Koffey.  I need another clone.  When can you have it ready?"

"Next week at the earliest.  Maybe Tuesday."

"Fine.  Tuesday.  And while you are at it, make a Mrs. Koffey, aged in her late twenties"  Bob put down the phone and mused to nobody in particular.  'Two can play that game."



Citizen


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## J.J. Maxx (Aug 19, 2016)

*Prompt #17*​Two of your characters are deciding the best way to cross a river.​


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## Phil Istine (Aug 20, 2016)

“Punt.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “We set up a punt,” said Jed.  “Look here, we have what we need.  There’s an old abandoned rowing boat, but no oars.  All we have to do is drag it out of the undergrowth and cut a  branch off one of these here trees.”

  Pete wondered if his groan could be heard.  _We indeed_ he thought, fingering his axe.

  “You wanna gondolier?” he asked.

  “No need to be dirty about it,” replied Jed.

  “Anyway, Jed, just look at the speed of that current, will ya?  No chance!”

  “You’d rather swim?”

  “Come on, Jed, no need for sarcasm,” said Pete.  “We’ve got legs, and it’s only five miles to the main bridge.”

  “Yeah, but it’s another five to get back on track over there,” said Jed, waving his flouncing arm in the vague direction of the opposite bank.

  “There’s a small coffee shop at the bridge, main road an’ all that.  We can rest there.  I’ll buy,” said Pete.

  Jed screwed up his face.

  “Hugs too?” asked Pete.

  “You’re on.  Let’s go.”


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## Shirl the Whirl (Aug 21, 2016)

"I reckon we could wade across here".

"Don't be daft, there's a bridge about half a mile away".

"What's wrong with wading?  We've only got to whip off our trainers and socks".

"I don't like getting my feet wet".

"They won't rust! They'll soon get dry again on a day like this".

"There might be fish in there".

"Derrr! It's a river!"

"Yeah, but there might be some of those sucky fish - you know - they latch on to your leg and suck your blood".

"It's flowing too fast for them. Come on, live a bit, get your feet wet!"

"We could have walked to the bridge by now".

"We could have waded across the river".

"For Gods sake! What's so adventurous about wet feet? The bridge is just down there, come with me or don't".

"Whoa, let's not fall out - the bridge it is.  We could walk across balancing on the handrail".

"Or we could just walk across normally".

"Okay, I can do normal. Lead on!"


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## rcallaci (Aug 22, 2016)

*On a River to Nowhere*

On a River to Nowhere (a continuing saga)

_“End of the line. Everybody out!”_ said the bus driver to nowhere. 

     Being that it was only me and Death on the bus, I guess he meant that announcement for us. I didn’t see no city or anything, just a river with a broken down bridge that led to nowhere. 

I said, _“Hey buddy! why are you dropping us in the middle of nowhere by a river with a bridge in disrepair. I assumed you were driving us to the city of Nowhere; not some polluted river with a bridge ready to turn to dust as soon as someone steps on it.” 
_
_“Calm down Mr Claudius, that hostile tone will get you nowhere. I guess you just have to swim across, or maybe have Death fly you over. This river runs a thousand miles long, I don’t have the time or the fuel to take you around.   Now get your asses up and get out of my bus.”  _

Death finally chimed in and said, _“First off, I don’t fly, I teleport. I appear at places where death most needs me. My teleporting does not work when death or dying is not involved.  Secondly, I demand you take us back to Cransford rather than you leaving us stranded here. I’m a pretty important entity in the scheme of things. People need to die, or they’ll just rot and turn into zombies.”_

_“Now, Now, Lord Death, I’m sure both of you will find a way to cross that river. I have orders from the Fates, a higher authority than yourself, or the Sorceress, Jesilina Josephina Melodious, to get you to the city of Nowhere, or in its vicinity. Well we are in its vicinity. Now please, step off the bus.”_

Death and I stared at each other, shrugged and got off the bus. As we watched the bus leave I said to Death, _“What do we do now.”_

_“Get on my back; we’ll have to float over. I can make myself a little lighter than air. I just hate getting wet; it makes my cowl shrink...”_


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## thepancreas11 (Oct 24, 2016)

"Gary, I'm not taking the ferry," Suzanne said. "It's a boat. You've ridden a boat before, haven't you?"

"Yes, but it's the experience!"

Suzanne scowled at him. "Jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge is an experience."

Gary scowled back. "It's an adventure, Suzy. You've had an adventure before, haven't you?"

"Fine, but when we're out there, and you're bored, you're quiet. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Gary slapped his hands together. "You will not be disappointed."

"I take it you've never seen Staten Island before, then."

"Anything's better than Omaha." Gary waded into line with throng of other fanny-pack toting, camera-hangers in I Heart NY shirts and bucket hats.

Suzanne dragged her feet, but she followed him. "I feel like such a fucking tourist."

"You are a tourist."

"You know what I mean."

Gary's eyebrows went up, and he pursed his lips. "Look, if you want to be a New Yorker, then be one. Pretend like this isn't amazing. Why is that a thing? Why do we focus on all the garbage when there's all these goddam towers around? 'Ugh, the smell,' she says. I didn't fly all this way for the smell, Suzy, so no, I will not be a New Yorker, not for a second. I will be a tourist."

"Gary, I didn't--"

"These are the fruits of the human mind!" he snapped. "This is an enormous boat. It's not a dingy, it's not a little fishing skiff. It's a modern miracle. So is the sewage system and Empire State Building and Central Park. Maybe if you felt that way too, you wouldn't be so stressed all the time. Maybe you'd be happy. Maybe you wouldn't take yourself so seriously." Gary pulled a Werther's Original out of his fanny-pack, popped it, and started to tap his foot.

"It's a boat."

"It's an adventure. It's all a goddam adventure, Suzy. That's life." Gary held his hand out. "Now, are you coming with me, or not? And you can't come as a New Yorker. You have to come as a Nebraskan. That's what you have to do. No New Yorkers allowed."

Suzy took his hand. "Fine."

"Welcome," he said, smiling. "Welcome to happiness."


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## RhythmOvPain (Oct 24, 2016)

"I told you, you should have brought a raft," Dick said when they came to the riverbed. "_No,_ you said, _it'll be too bulky_. Never mind the fact that we have to cross a fucking river!"

"Don't worry about it," Jim replied, "I found a detour with a bridge. It's right over there."

"Those are fucking rocks you ass, there's no way we can jump them with these heavy packs on."

Jim laughed and said, "even if we had a raft, the current is too fast to cross here. We'd have to walk half a mile to wait for the river to slow down, and there are rocks and shit."

"So why did we take _this_ route?" Dick asked with a sigh.

"Because there's a bridge."

"That's not a fucking bridge!"

"Look," Jim said, walking towards the rocks, "I'll go first and you follow my lead."

Jim walked to the first rock, roughly two feet away, and prepared to make his first jump. The rock was about a foot and a half wide.

"I'm not saving you if you fall." Dick said, turning around and huffing. He turned back around and Jim was gone.

"Jim?"

Dick never saw Jim again.


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## The Fantastical (Nov 15, 2016)

Ray, stood dumbfounded at the edge of the river Sphinx, "What is t_hat!?" _

"It is a river..."

"That, that is not a river, it is a fast moving ocean! Who on earth are we going to cross it?"

"With the power of positive thought." Ty answered as he settled down on a rock by the river side.

"Positive thinking? Again? The last time I trusted you positive thinking we were almost eaten by the Marsh..."

"Oh hush Ray.... You always over react. Just sit here and think boat like thoughts..."

"Uh-ha..." Ty Opened an eye and then pointed somewhere up river, 

"See, told you!"


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