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[PI] August Contest/ Create a Creature Story | All in all it was a really interesting read, but I think there were a few things you could have adjusted to make it easier for the reader to understand.
* The begining bit(where there was a lot of back and forth) would have been a lot easier to read if you had described a setting or even introduced the friend and the teacher. I caught on after the first few lines, but it was still difficult to keep reading and not just skip to the important part.
* That giant middle paragraph could have been broken up several times, so it didn't feel like such a jumble of stuff.
>"They’re too enormous to be how enormous they look like. So broad the skin around his sockets stretch and wrinkle in a warren of hollows and cracks. Stretch down to that thin creeping grin, and those thin creeping fingers."
* That made absolutely no sense to me.
Sorry if this sounds harsh, I only meant it as constructive criticism. Your idea is phenomenal and your descriptive skills are to die for. Great job! | 4 | 0 | 6 | 200 |
[PI] August Contest/ Create a Creature Story | A great read, you have a real talent for drawing people in. By the end of it I felt almost unnerved or unsettled is maybe a better word.
Awesome job! | 2 | 0 | 6 | 201 |
DAILY PROMPT: What is your muse? | Avoiding an unfulfilled life. That's it. | 6 | 0 | 5 | 202 |
DAILY PROMPT: What is your muse? | It's been 30 years since I have written a thing until the last couple years or so. One day, I just started writing. For some reason, I just needed to write. I don't always know where my story will go until I am finished. It's a surprise to me as much as anyone. So, back to your original question. What motivates me? *I want to know what I am going to say.* | 4 | 0 | 5 | 203 |
DAILY PROMPT: What is your muse? | My motivation is somewhat selfish, as I only seem to write to get the shit out of my head.
If it stays in there, it literally drives me insane. | 3 | 0 | 5 | 204 |
DAILY PROMPT: What is your muse? | I write to express feelings about situations that I dont think I could normally express to my peers at a level where I would gain much insight from. | 2 | 0 | 5 | 205 |
DAILY PROMPT: What is your muse? | For whatever reason, it seems I need to write each night or my head gets too full... I've noticed that if I'm too busy to write at all before I go to bed, the next day I'll feel "out of it," like I have too much to think about. To me, writing has the same effect that the Pensieve has in Harry Potter-it's my way of "clearing out my head." | 2 | 0 | 5 | 206 |
DAILY PROMPT: What is your muse? | The open road is rather relieving. Driving west, looking at the countryside, seeing nothing but plains. No one to talk to but yourself. Might as well write down the conversations. Driving is monotonous. Stay in the right lane, when someone is going particularly slowly, you pass them. And yet, you realize that you're only behind another car. Are you making progress or are you just running to stand still? You pass another car, thinking that the car you passed was the last. Thinking that you'll be free for once. You speed up in celebration of reaching the open road. Funny how when confronted with breathing space we seek to gobble it up as soon as possible. And before you know it, you're behind another car. | 2 | 0 | 5 | 207 |
DAILY PROMPT: What is your muse? | Making people laugh. | 1 | 0 | 5 | 208 |
DAILY PROMPT: What is your muse? | I write mostly to stay sane. I lost my parents years ago and kind of lost touch with reality. Its is so easy to become disconnected and fall into the vacuum that loss has left behind. I have moved around a lot and have somewhat figured out a steady way to take care of the basic needs, food and shelter and all of that. But after being alone and in survival mode for so long I don't really know how to talk to people, so I write instead. | 2 | 0 | 5 | 209 |
DAILY PROMPT: What is your muse? | A slew of errant thoughts and a vocabulary too big for it's own good. | 2 | 0 | 5 | 210 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | Jake walked into the moonlit study, eyes blurred from the subtle transition into awakening. Stumbling through the scattered books on the ground, his knee was caught by the low coffee tables bite. He fell to the floor, bringing the collection of papers around him down as well. His eyes caught a black box under his couch, barely illuminated by the moonlight. A single hand crawled through cobwebs, designed in a timeless cave under the couch, until digits met plastic. He gripped firmly and retracted, showing his prize to fogged eyes. The VHS tape was labeled, but the only remains were a tacky feeling that gave him chills. He entered his attic, scrutinzing old boxes until he found the box that had TV/Audio hastily engraved in pen. Blowing dust off the old VCR, he took it back into his study, and fumbled idly with cords until his television came alive with a soft hum. The tape came on immediately, an inaudible white screen. He moved closer to the television, and felt electricity crawl down his spine, as he touched the screen, his living room went dark. The VHS popped out of his VCR, with a simple white sticker that read “Jake.” | 12 | 0 | 37 | 211 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | Roslyn stepped down the ladder facing forward and the box caught on the attic floor. She caught it with her left hand. Lugging the box to the TV, she flipped off the lid and grabbed the un-labled white VHS tape. She clicked the old Zenith TV on and slid in the mystery tape.
“Hello, ladies. My name is Robert. First, a bit about myself. I’m single. I play the French horn. I’m a great musician. I work as a salesman at Rico Outfitters on 3rd and 4th.”
Roslyn smiled.
“I love camping. I like to cook. I like basketball. I’m a great chef. My special is chicken parmesan with apple coleslaw… I’m a great lover.”
Her snickering broke into a laugh.
“I can swim?”
She lost it. She slipped off her chair and onto her knee and started hitting the floor, choking on her now laughter, so hard now it had just broken into gasps. Why did he even keep this?
“I’m looking for a woman with a good sense of humor. Intelligent. Someone who’s just looking for a big pair of arms.”
Her gasping eventually faded into an exasperated sigh and wiped a tear from her eye. “Oh dad.”
| 27 | 0 | 37 | 212 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | [deleted] | 10 | 0 | 37 | 213 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | **A/N: 198 Words, first story contributed to this subreddit. I would appreciate feedback.**
“This isn’t a good idea, Mark.”
Mark rolled his eyes, backing out of the closet with an old VCR machine in hand. “Don’t freak out *Brandie*, Mom and Dad will never know.”
Large brown eyes narrowed as they always did whenever his nickname was mentioned.
After messing around with the wires, the two brothers sat down in front of the television. Brandon watched as the other inserted the VHS tape they found with a large click.
“*Oooohhhh…*” moaned the television screen. The duo suddenly looked on in horror.
Two young shadowed figures lay on a bed, furiously making love. Both frozen with shock, it wasn’t until a solid minute later that Brandon snapped his hand to stop the video.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t quick enough. The female voice managed to let out a passion filled, “*Robert…*” right before the screen turned black.
Silence. The younger of the two shuffled nervously.
“…that was…”
“We never speak of this again.” Mark interjected.
“But..!” Brandon trailed off, and then kept silent, following his brother’s suggestion.
***
“Hi kids, I’m home!”
“…hi…”
“What’s with those faces? Is your father home yet?”
“I brought pizza,” then, to the direction of the study, “Robert, dinner’s ready!”
| 10 | 0 | 37 | 214 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | [deleted] | 1 | 0 | 37 | 215 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | Veronica stretched out lazily on her grandmother’s couch. Upstairs, the rest of the family were happily chatting away. Veronica sighed. She hated the insincerity of family events. Her parents called her discontent a ‘teenage phase’, but she hated how her family could only express their feelings in food. Her parents had been pushing sweet, rich food on her for months.
Tired of staring at the ceiling, she wandered over to Grandma’s cabinet filled with VCRs.
“Just like them to have a basement full of crap.” Veronica muttered. “Would it kill them to buy a DVD player?”
Each tape was meticulously labeled with a name. It took Veronica a second to recognize many of the names – each tape was for a deceased family member. At the top of the pile, there was a tape marked ‘Veronica’. Maybe it was an old aunt?
Curious, she popped it into the VCR player. Images popped up immediately, nto of some deceased family member, but of Veronica. She stared at the screen uncomprehendingly. Baby Veronica toddling across the yard, graduating from school, going to prom… Then a screen: “In honor of our sacrifice on August 8th, 2012.”
From upstairs, a call: “Veronica, dinner!” | 63 | 0 | 37 | 216 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | He had been trying at the old vault for hours. He had discovered it in his attic; he inherited this house when his mother died, and was searching through the collections of old artifacts. This vault however, was impossible. He had tried and tried and tried, to no prevail. He had finally called a locksmith, and was waiting (still toying with the vault as he did) for him to arrive. The locksmith finally did. He bolted down the attic stairs, and down another flight of stairs to the main floor.
"Come in," said the owner of the house, and the locksmith walked inside. They preceded to the attic, and the locksmith did his work. After 25 minutes, he finally opened the lock. He sought his payment, and left. Finally, to the vault. He reached down to the lever and pulled it open. Inside it lay a VHS tape. What? That's it? Well, might as well see what's on it. He took the tape to his mom's old room, where there was a VHS player. He put it in, and pressed play. Just static; he rewound it and played it, even fast-forwarded it, and nothing. What a waste. | 10 | 0 | 37 | 217 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | The team of four men assembled into the dark and creepy cellar, looking for information regarding as to why people were missing lately. One of the men closes the door and sweeps from side to side with a incredibly bright flashlight. It glints right over a TV on a stand with a VCR and a VHS tape next to it. Footsteps echo from behind them; they had been found. A few more pairs of footsteps behind them; they were surrounded, thought the man with the flashlight. Quickly, he locked the door, swinging their attention to the VCR.
"Cap, we're literally screwed, and all we have is a VHS tape?" A soldier whispers.
"Shh... but this might be the key to the whole case." The captain responds.
"I don't like this. Not one bit." The soldier retorts.
They turned the TV on and pushed the play button on the VCR. Soon, scenes showing the group of men, like in the report, kidnapping people and moving them to unknown locations. This was the evidence to convict them. The captain retrieves the tape. Slowly, he gathers his men, signaling 3... 2... 1... and they open the door.
-----
First time I've ever done this... how'd I do? | 6 | 0 | 37 | 218 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | Tying the boat to the bottom of the ocean, I pondered my luck. Swimming back up, I tied the anchor to the air and swam off, waiting for this unlucky yacht owner to come back and see his boat effectively immobilized, stuck between two points of the earth, forever. Well, until someone came up with a way to erode the Vehicle Hindrance Substance. The VHS came in several less potent forms - there was the VHS glue, the VHS twine...but above all else, with one roll known to exist, the strongest vehicle immobilizing substance: the VHS tape.
Walking through the harbor, I'd seen a man on the ground, face up, dead eyes screaming for help, with his ankles twisted around. Tape attached his leg to his shoe; his shoe to the ground.
In his hand, a roll of tape.
Maybe it's morbid that I decided to have fun with it, but hell, I'm not just going to leave it there. I climb up a mast and start tying some tape around a large sail, and I slip, losing my balance, the tape already attached to the sheet. I reach up and grab something to steady myself.
Shit. It's the VHS tape. | 7 | 0 | 37 | 219 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | "Ok honey, see you a little later," Sam shouted to his wife as the front door thudded close. Peering through the blinds, he watched as the car rolled past the gate, closing automatically behind it. Sam exhaled slowly, turned, and made his way to the top floor of the estate.
More attic, than livable space, the top floor was a catchall for furniture, clothes from past decade's fashions, and memories slowly turning into the dust that filled the stale air.
Sam slowly strolled through the large room, pausing every few feet to catch his breath and listen for any unsuspecting reappearance from his wife. Towards the end of the room the sun sliced through the dust illuminating a yellow hue on cluster of dressers and desks.
Sam fetched the aptly placed screwdriver from the bottom drawers of one of the desks. Used his own weight to shift the desk a few feet, and reveal the loose floor board underneath. Both knees and floor boards creaking, Sam lowered himself and pried the floorboard lose. Reached in and pulled out three manila envelopes and a VHS tape. Sighing, Sam said to himself, "No one knows." | 2 | 0 | 37 | 220 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | Sam really couldn’t be more excited with his find, well, curiosity would be a better way to describe those feelings. He would call work and tell them he wasn’t able to come in today. The excuse as meaningless as the job that he would be skipping.
How long had Sam waited for this? How many days had he spent as a slave to forgotten desires? No longer!
Sam removed the venerated tape from the throwaway cardboard case, fingers brushing over the label with writing lost to time. His mind flashed back to a simpler time, one where he was happy. A time where the pain hadn’t consumed him.
The screen flashed as he stared at it. The scene before his eyes, one that could only reside in memory. Two people, a beautiful woman in her white dress and a man in his black tuxedo, blissfully united before their friends and family. Friends and family Sam hadn’t talked with in quite sometime, ever since the sickness claimed the gorgeous woman.
He sat back in the chair, the barrel neared his temple. ‘My body will sit here’ he thought to himself.
Sit there it did, just as forgotten as his happiness. | 2 | 0 | 37 | 221 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | He tore purposefully through the myriad of boxes and bags that littered the less visited recesses of their house. It was here somewhere. He was fairly sure he hadn't thrown it out and positive she hadn't; she never threw anything out. His hands were dry and the cuticles on his finger tips were splitting. Each frantic opening of a new box hurt more than the last. Hours of searching had lead him here to the very last box in the darkest and dustiest corner of the attic. Anxiously he tore at the tape on the top of the box.
His heart fluttered the dim light revealed an obsolete video recorder with AV cords still attached. Quickly he tossed it aside to rummage through the black plastic cartridges underneath. *Summer holiday '94.. No. Darren and Christine Wedding.. No. Allan's 25th.. No.* He piled the few tapes without labels carefully and hopefully to one side, tossing the others aimlessly and without regard. *damn it, where is it?*
Soon he sat staring at the empty bottom of a long forgotten box. He wanted to cry, but didn't have the energy. Defeated, he gathered up the nameless tapes and listlessly made his way down the creaky pull down stairs and into his living room. One by one he tried the tapes. A trip to the zoo. A niece's graduation. Another birthday video of a long forgotten acquaintance. None were what he was searching for. He screamed a single wordless syllable as he tore the VCR from the entertainment unit and threw it at the wall where it shattered into a thousand countless pieces.
He kneeled in front of the TV, staring at the floor and his filthy blue jeans. *How could it not be here? How could we immortalise every mundane moment on film and not keep this one. Why did we even buy that fucking camera?* He raised his head, looking nowhere in particular. *The camera!* He sprang to his feet and raced back up the creaky stairs to the dark corner of the attic. He tossed boxes to both sides in a flurry until he found it and rushed back down to the TV in the living room. His hands shaking, he fumbled to plug the AV cords into the television's face. He pressed the little on symbol and averted his eyes as he rewound.
The cam corder clicked and looked to the screen. The TV buzzed and hissed with static, his heart, it seemed, had stopped beating at all. An image appeared. His own image. He was sitting on his sofa in his old ripped jeans and an out of fashion, brightly coloured shirt. Beer in hand. The camera bobbed toward him. "What are you doing?" he said, smirking. "Turn that thing off."
"No," a sweet, familiar voice giggled "I want to capture you just like this."
His image gestured to his beaten clothes with it's free hand. "Like this?"
"Yeah." The pretty voice sung back. "In case something ever happens to you, I want to be able to look back at this tape and remember you just as you are right now."
"And how am I right now?" His image teased.
"You're beautiful," she said "and I love you."
He looked back to the floor where a small patch had darkened. His mouth tasted of salt water. He paused and rewound a few seconds.
"And I love you."
Rewind.
"I love you." | 4 | 0 | 37 | 222 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | Ronan was inspecting every dirt smudged letter and word on the label of the VHS tape. The plastic outside of the tape was cracked and the young man pondered what the contents of the tape was. He slowly eased the tape into his VHS. After much fuzz and distortion on the television, a good looking young man appeared on the screen. He said one sentence before the tape ended, "Mary. I want you to know that I love you." The screen went black. Ronan pondered what he saw for a second, then walked out of his apartment and took on the busy streets of New York City. The young man knew this was the beginning of and adventure. | 1 | 0 | 37 | 223 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | The light from the screen swallows the little room. He's never seen this before but he's pretty sure on how it ends. He slinks back into his world wondering why bother. Someone told him to watch this, he remembers. "Highly recommended". That's the only thing keeping him here. So he watches the tape as it drones on with its everyday plot and its everyday characters.
Sure that there were some parts that were pretty good. But what's the point of watching something that's interspersed with one part joy and nine parts shit. Doesn't seem worth it to him. He stands up, the screen light casting a grim silhouette behind him. The shadow envelops the room as he approaches the television. His back cracks as he bends down to eject the tape.
Finger on button, just a push and it'll all be over. He raises his head to the screen. Did it get better? On the screen is a pixelated toilet of waste. The light dies. The tape whirs out of the VCR, but he doesn't take it out. He sits there in the dark as nothing wipes the tears away. The darkness blankets his cold soul as he dreams naught. | 1 | 0 | 37 | 224 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | It was delivered by a smiling singing messenger with an unnaturally cheery disposition in a plain manila envelope, the kind Walter usually associated with news ranging from terrible to horrible. "Ahoy! Just need your X and the date, heck any letter and date, on the line and I'll be on my way," he said melodically. An unlabelled, unremarkable, and thanks to the lack of return address, untraceable videotape. Bothered by the arrogance of those who exude cheeriness before 9 and the VHS sitting on his coffee table, Walter lit up a cigarette and stared at the tape. It looked heavier than it was, like it was made from the surface of a black hole, it could subdue a sunbeam.
Barbara has a VCR, Walter remembered. He murdered the cigarette, crushing it into the faux-crystal ashtray. He knocked on Barbara's door, explained his situation, and before he could ask she excitedly offered her VCR's services. "How exciting," she giggled. He inserted the tape. The television came to life and Walter's eyes widened. The image was him, sitting on his couch, smoke flowing out of his nostrils, staring at a videotape. | 6 | 0 | 37 | 225 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | "What the heck is this?" Steve said whilst peering into an old, dusty cardboard box.
"That, son, is a vhs tape. Before we had blu-ray...and before we had dvds...or dvr...or on demand...we had vhs tapes to watch." Steve's father smiled as he pulled the unmarked tape from the box, "It's been in this box in the basement for years."
"What's on it?" Steve asked, curiosity getting to the best of him.
"I don't remember. I don't know if it even works anymore." Steve's father handed his son the tape to examine.
"How do we play it on the tv? Or can we hook it up to the computer?" Steve's eyes grew bright with excitement.
"You need a VHS player. Although, ours broke before you were born. I don't know if any store even sells them anymore." Steve's father laughed, "I guess we'll never know what was on that old thing." | 6 | 0 | 37 | 226 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | As she pulled the VHS out of the rewinder, she sighed. As she pushed it in the VHS player, she sniffed.
When the TV came to life, she saw a beautiful circus, red and yellow and black and flowers and clowns and lions and elephants, and her horses. Her beautiful horses. A black one, a white one, the paint. All dancing and singing in front of her.
The acrobat was warming up, leaping from the near top of a thousand foot pole plunging to his death, he made it though! The circus master and the lion were in the cage, surely the circus master would be eaten when he tried to put his head in the lions mouth! And the dancers were finally out, doing their exotic number. Clowns now, in little cars!
The nurses aide came in. She turned off the TV. She left.
The old woman cried.
| 9 | 0 | 37 | 227 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | It came in the mail, wrapped in parchment paper and tied with a string. This wasn't another heartbreaking letter. I wonder what they sent this time.
I snapped the string with a pair of scissors and slid back the paper to reveal the cassette with neat cursive handwriting across the label that was too smudged for me to make out.
They had written to me over the past few months with painstaking detail of their life. I had been under the impression for some time that it was a lonely elderly neighbor. A crazy neighbor perhaps, but harmless. The video was a surprise to me. For someone who is that kind of recluse, revealing your identity, even revealing your voice would take a huge effort.
I worked up the courage to finally dig out the VCR, hook it up, and pop the tape in. First static, then a happy laugh. The camera focused and showed a little girl running around a yard with a bubble wand in her hand giggling as the person with the camera chased after her. The little girl, finally out of breath, turned around, pouted, and pointed her bubble wand at the camera.
It was me.
| 3 | 0 | 37 | 228 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | **Went for a bit of a different approach, hope thats ok? I'm new here.**
Wordless in our search for food, only spattering sounds of tiny claws on concrete. The terrible giants are certainly gone for the time being, as even the haunting glow of the noise box have ceased for the night. There are a few sources in the air tonight, but we remember to beware that nutty, woody smell. The lightning snap that snatched up our brother and soaked his fur with the dark ooze within was well renowned in our family; none of us would ever let our hunger betray us to the same end. No, tonight our noses guide us amongst the fuzzy and funky stinks that had been haphazardly left strewn about. Suddenly, gold! The olfactory glory drew us scampering towards the source. Atop the hard, irregular rectangle, and sunken into the white circles therein lie the holy grail. The shards of a chocolate cookie crumbled carelessly across what is now a very shrine to our fickle overlords. We feasted on the crumbs with revelrous fervor, digging into those circular dimples of the plastic box, when suddenly, all was alight. Thundering footsteps, and then, a shriek from Karen. "MOM! THERE'S A MOUSE IN THE BASEMENT ON MY VIDEO TAPE!" Damn. | 4 | 0 | 37 | 229 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | [deleted] | 6 | 0 | 37 | 230 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | First time poster. Feedback appreciated.
==========
Three friends rented a lake-cabin for the weekend. Friday night was filled with tears of laughter, screeches of joy and a long walk down memory lane. Saturday they played cards, cooked and reminisced some more. It was a good time.
Sunday morning, Jane walks into the living room to find a laughing Barbara watching the television.
“What are you laughing at?” Jane asked.
“Oh I woke up early, there’s no signal up here in the mountains so I threw in the only VHS tape I found here. It’s a home video of some local comedian, he’s pretty funny.” Barbara replied.
Jane looked at the tape in the VCR with the number seven written on it in thick, black ink, looked at Barbara and said, “That’s odd, I watched that tape yesterday when Suze and you were in town. It’s of someone’s kids by the lake. I remember the number seven on it. It’s the only tape here. I searched the cabin looking for something more interesting.”
Barbara turned around to the sound of a bedroom door opening to hear Sandy say “It is the only tape in the place all right, I searched also, why would someone tape their funeral?”
| 4 | 0 | 37 | 231 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | Edit: 200 exactly
John gave another futile push, grunting, knowing the box would not move. Still, something motivated him to delve deeper into the attic. Besides, he knew if he quit his task he would only be given another. Couldn't he have some time to just remember his grandfather?
John stepped back to admire his own work. The box had moved almost four feet in half an hour. Moving to the side he realized if he pushed it a foot further, he could squeeze through a crack between two boxes. Fifteen minutes later, he was inside.
The first box on the inside that caught his eye simply said "John". He saw a box for each grandchild, fifteen total. Inside the box was items from his childhood. A ticket from a baseball game he had gone to with his grandfather, a picture of them together, an old VHS tape.
He played the tape on the nearby TV. It was a video of John only five and his grandfather, playing together and laughing. John didn't remember the events he was watching. He saw himself and his grandfather, happy together. Two hours later his mom found him, watching it for the third time in a row. | 7 | 0 | 37 | 232 |
[FF] What's on the tape? |
The light filled the basement as Stacey flipped the switch. It had been a hard few months for her. Nothing had seemed to go her way. She looked at all of his things around the room and started to pack them into boxes. She picked up his hat that was left in there. He wore it everyday. She looked at it with her deep eyes. She felt the brim of it and with a sudden burst of anger, she threw it into the box. She had a sense of relief he was gone. No more pain or suffering. She could finally live her life. However, she still wanted him to come back just like every hopeless lover. She continued to go through his things and pile them into the box. As she was wiping the months of dust off of the television stand, she noticed something unusual. A VHS tape. There was no label or markings on it. She crammed it into her VCR.
"Hey Stacy. I know things are getting bad" he said in a low voice. "I want you to know, whatever happens, I love you." Her eyes began to swell as she wished the cancer wouldn't have taken him.
| 2 | 0 | 37 | 233 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | Ryan picked up the VHS and placed it into the player, hesitating for only a moment, and waited for the tape to start playing. After a brief pause, the tape played just static, and he ejected the tap before picking up the next one from a pile that never seemed to end. With a sigh, he put the next tape in, and waited for it to play. | 1 | 0 | 37 | 234 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | James found the tape in a musty cellar "volunteering" to clean out an old, dead woman's trash-heap apartment. The stench of must, decay, and stale cooking still radiated from it. Disgusting. The video had occupied unusual spot - behind the run-down bed frame, wrapped in a cloth - which had prompted him to "borrow" it.
He closed the door of his room though he was home alone. Hopefully, there'd be nothing he'd regret.
After a gentle push, the VCR swallowed the tape and flapped its mouth closed gratefully. The screen displayed grey streaks that soon eroded into landscapes of green fields. A young woman stepped into view and spoke into the camera:
"Year 2151. If you want the utopia to exist, you must act now -they're coming."
James stood. Peered from his window. Opened the door. Silence. There was nothi--
The world pitched black, all noises of life disappearing. The chirping birds, slight summer breeze gone.
He stood in the blackness; a man appeared, but all the light was on him. No shadows, no stray beams illuminating his surroundings. Unnatural. His eyes were dark, swirling pits of oblivion. The figure growled, "There is no escape," before the stabbing darkness encased James. | 1 | 0 | 37 | 235 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | He had passed away quietly.
“What else is new?” thought Michael as he gathered knick knacks from off the shelf. Michael couldn’t understand why anyone would collect things like this. A commemorative mug from the local horse racing track. A snow globe with more dust on top of it than “snow” inside of it. Michael clapped his hands together, getting the dust off, and reached up to the top shelf. A VHS tape awaited him. No dust.
The blue screen struggled to illuminate the dimly lit room. It was the same blue screen that Michael had loved seeing as a child. The screen of anticipation.
The image flickered to life. Michael tried to process what he saw.
A seven year old Michael stood at the plate. The pitch was inside, but his swing was solid. The ball carried and carried, clearing the fence by a mile. The children rejoiced and swarmed Michael as he stepped on home plate. The camera shifted harshly. The next image was a waist-level shot of the cameraman quickly walking away. The man removed his hat and sunglasses and wiped tears from his eyes. The tape ended.
Michael fought back his own tears. “Damn it, dad.”
| 3 | 0 | 37 | 236 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | [deleted] | 1 | 0 | 37 | 237 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | She hadn’t been looking for it. Sitting innocently in an unmarked box, was an old VHS tape. They were moving soon. All of the important things had been boxed up – all of his things. She wiped some of the dust away from the tape’s surface, before going downstairs where an outdated VCR was still plugged in.
A young boy happily bounced on a small stage, wearing tights and carrying a foil sword. She frowned, before recognition hit. It was him, from ten years ago. He had been cast as Peter Pan in his school’s play. Her hand reached up to the screen, her index finger hovering over his face, his silly smile.
On screen, he waved to her in the audience. She couldn’t help but wave back.
The police had taken the tape, after.
The sound of applause filled the room, as he took a bow with the other children. “You were great,” she whispered. “So great.”
| 3 | 0 | 37 | 238 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | **10¢**
Garage sale yesterday. Got rid of everything not rotten from the garage, the attic, the closets. Wanted to see if anyone was willing to pay for the jerry-rigged VW bus, but it's a family thing, and it was requested I keep it running 'til another garage sale.
Sold the VCR and a box of tapes we haven't watched since we first got married (and from when we borrowed that videocamera from Uncle Bruce). Made sure to grab out all the unlabeled stuff and just chuck it, because I didn't have time to watch through it all and relabel it. Besides, half of it was videos from a me-back-in-high-school, staying up late and recording the world premier of a video on MTV. Not too interesting these days.
Think a few family memories went into the trash as well. Guess that's what happens when technologies change and when you're too lazy to label your memories -- you just toss 'em out and hope the ground eats them.
Remembered this morning the tape labeled "Weekend at Bernies 2 / Free willy / True Romance" was something I long ago told my wife I'd thrown away. | 1 | 0 | 37 | 239 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | "Is that it?" He sighed. "Yeah. I hate watching these." "It's necessary. We have to know." Bob pushed the tape into the TV/VCR player that was all the department could afford. Up on the screen appeared a little boy, about three, clutching a teddy bear. "Don't. Please, not again!" The close ups were the worst. He reviewed it all. "We have it. It's all we need." Another day, another perp. One day, one day, we won't have to do this any more, thought Bob. If the medicine works, we'll never have to do this again. He sighed, and for the last time, picked up the phone. "Pick him up. He's ours." The last man to be arrested for that hideous crime would be the first treated with the new cure. | 1 | 0 | 37 | 240 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | [deleted] | 3 | 0 | 37 | 241 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | Click.
Amanda sat alone in front of the TV, shell-shocked.
The VCR made more clicks, and automatically began rewinding the tape.
A tear fell from from Amanda's cheek.
Click. The rewinding stopped, and the VHS was automatically ejected.
As if she had been waiting for this cue the whole time, Amanda got up and placed the VHS in its case with trembling hands.
When the VHS was safely back into the box where it had been found, Amanda retreated back to the couch in front of the TV, where she did nothing but stare into the space directly in front of her.
He would be home any minute now.
"Hello!", he said cheerily, as he came in the front door.
"Hi!", Amanda replied, doing her best to sound normal, not quite managing it. The man popped his head into the living room.
"So what's for ---". The man stopped mid-sentence, eyes darting from her to the TV and back again.
The color on Amanda's face disappeared as she realized that he knew. His face turned red in anger.
Whatever happened next unfolded to the blue glow of a TV screen with the blinking text - "AV-2". | 2 | 0 | 37 | 242 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | I shuffled onward through the dust, the rubble. Looking up to the sky and down to the ground, I observed the nearly monochromatic grey-brown environment around me. Water was no where in sight, and pangs of heat stroke periodically warned me of death, like a tiger growling before pouncing on his prey.
My stride was interrupted as I felt a protrusion against my toe. I glanced down to find something black above the sand. The desperate survivor inside of me jumped at the possibility of stumbling across some sort of desert plant - maybe containing water, moisture. Pulling the rest of it out of the sand, I found that the black object was perfectly rectangular in shape, smoother than any plant I'd ever known of. It was also rootless.
Curiously, I cracked it open and found a wide, black, shiny cord. I pulled on it. Pulled more, and more. Eventually there was a pile of it on the sand below me.
It wasn't a plant, nor anything else I was familiar with. There was no water of any kind in it, and I decided it was junk, debris! Something unimportant. I was angry. Dragging my feet, I continued my trek.
*200 words exactly. I manipulated the task a bit, oh well :]* | 1 | 0 | 37 | 243 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | First thing I've written in a very long time. This subreddit's going to be good for me.
_______________________________________________________
I hadn't watched the tape in years. I knew what was on it, more or less. I remembered the cake cutting and the tour of the house and Dad's corny joke to my sister Les. But I remembered the video the way you remember anything from twenty years ago - halfway, in small chunks, knowing the chorus but not the verse. I remembered Dad the same way.
Last time I watched the tape, just a few years after he died, I thought it was pretty boring. Family has a picnic; family sings atonal rendition of Happy Birthday to a mortally embarrassed teenager; some random cousins talk about baseball. There's no drama there, no conflict or character arc. It's pretty boring, if you watch the tape for the plot.
This time, older, nearly a father myself, I watch again and see what's really on the tape. He was 6'9" and only 160 pounds. I knew that, intellectually, but my god how skinny he was. And his voice! When did Dad get that drawl? I never remembered that. I somehow smell his apple pipe tobacco. That's not on the tape at all.
If you watch the tape for the characters, it's a masterpiece. | 1 | 0 | 37 | 244 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | John needed a new VHS player. He still enjoyed watching all the movies he had collected, plus he could still record some stuff on cable. Determined to find a VHS player and a few tapes, John walked into the neighborhood pawn shop.
It was easy enough to find a player, but the tapes were the hard part. Bringing the player to the counter, John asked if he had any blank tapes.
“I only have one left, friend.”
“How much for it plus the player?”
“For you, $20.” The clerk smiled.
That night, John set everything up to record a movie on cable. One of the Jurassic Park flicks. Everything worked like a charm.
The next day, he started watching the movie. Stupid thing missed an hour of the movie! He watched intently as the T-Rex was squishing the SUV into the mud. That is, until he felt drips of water on his head. He looked up and wasn’t sitting on his couch anymore. And the T-Rex turned its’ head towards him.
He was standing in the pouring rain on Isla Nublar. The T-Rex roared at John. John fumbled with the remote and stopped it. He sat on his couch, amazed.
__________________________
Critique appreciated. I thought the word count was originally 300 so I had to cut out some stuff, but essentially whenever you record over the blank tape, you get put into whatever was recorded. For John, it was the middle of Jurassic Park. | 1 | 0 | 37 | 245 |
[FF] What's on the tape? | Zinc always told me that there were treasures in the wastes. Special things. Beautiful things. I found one of them today. One of the beautiful things. It was a square box, filled with brownish colored tape. On the front it looked as if there had been some sort of sticker there, but all I could make out was a P.
Glad that I had found this mystery box, I brought it home with me. Inside my pod there was a spherical droid filled with knowledge of Old Earth. I handed the box to him. "Analyzing object," it said. The digital voice always seems to give me a headache.
"Analysis complete. Object is a VHS tape. It contains entertainment data, would you like me to play it?" I nodded. Hoping that maybe this can give me a better look into the past.
The robot plucked the tape out of the VHS and fed it through his back end. His little metallic claws working faster than I thought possible. Suddenly, his screen started playing something. The VHS was a movie, titled "Pigs in Space". I enjoyed every second of it. | 1 | 0 | 37 | 246 |
[IP] My entire Inspiration/Prompt folder, with some of my favourite images from Reddit and around the web! | Wow! We could keep busy for a very long time with these images! I would suggest picking one per prompt. These are a great inspiration! | 2 | 0 | 15 | 247 |
[IP] My entire Inspiration/Prompt folder, with some of my favourite images from Reddit and around the web! | Do you I mind if I use one of these images to post my own prompt? I am interested in seeing the stories that could come from this http://i.imgur.com/k1Hfl.jpg/ | 1 | 0 | 15 | 248 |
[IP] My entire Inspiration/Prompt folder, with some of my favourite images from Reddit and around the web! | You know what I find interesting, that I have approximately half of the same images. Hmm. | 1 | 0 | 15 | 249 |
[IP] My entire Inspiration/Prompt folder, with some of my favourite images from Reddit and around the web! | Do you know what this picture is of/where it is?
[](http://imgur.com/a/n3rvp#4) | 1 | 0 | 15 | 250 |
To all the new subscribers... | I've noticed a great way for smaller subreddits to shoot up in subscribers is to get a comment Bestov'd. | 28 | 0 | 159 | 251 |
To all the new subscribers... | And *from* all the new subscribers - thank you. This is a seriously amazing subreddit - I can barely even begin to comprehend how useful this might be for me. | 75 | 0 | 159 | 252 |
To all the new subscribers... | I saw the best of this morning and had no idea that this subreddit existed. This might be what I need to get my wordslinging in proper order. | 34 | 0 | 159 | 253 |
To all the new subscribers... | I just found this subreddit and I am excited to lurk and then write. | 3 | 0 | 159 | 254 |
To all the new subscribers... | [deleted] | 17 | 0 | 159 | 255 |
To all the new subscribers... | Definitely happy I found this subreddit. I haven't been writing at all - I feel that this might help immensely | 4 | 0 | 159 | 256 |
To all the new subscribers... | I'm so happy to have found this subreddit! Yay for front page goodness! | 6 | 0 | 159 | 257 |
To all the new subscribers... | [deleted] | 3 | 0 | 159 | 258 |
To all the new subscribers... | This will help me get into a new habit of expressing myself in a creative way. Looks like it would be fun. | 2 | 0 | 159 | 259 |
To all the new subscribers... | This subreddit is awesome. It is the first one I've subscribed to so far. Of course, I do need to get in writing shape again, so sorry for any wrongs I might make.
And a question: do you guys post prompts for other languages as well? It would be interesting to practice, I guess. | 6 | 0 | 159 | 260 |
To all the new subscribers... | [deleted] | 1 | 0 | 159 | 261 |
To all the new subscribers... | I'm so glad for the new bestof policy where the default subreddits are forbidden, because I don't think I would have found this amazing subreddit if it wasn't bestof'd. I'm so glad I found it, gonna be a regular here I think! | 2 | 0 | 159 | 262 |
To all the new subscribers... | New, non-native speaker and probably going to stick to reading for quite some time, just wanted to say hurro and thanks for an amazing and super-entertaining subreddit. | 2 | 0 | 159 | 263 |
To all the new subscribers... | [deleted] | 5 | 0 | 159 | 264 |
To all the new subscribers... | Gaerhold grunted heavily, "hooph". His heavy breath erupting a misty shroud into the clearing. The low sun instantly rendered it yellow as the dew clinging to the stretching blades of meadow grass. Soon the noon sun would rise and render the dew and mist as dead as the stag on their pole.
"Have you good hold, or shall I fetch a maiden to bear the burden in your stead?", his brother japed. In his view, only Magnus' blonde mane jutted out from the back of his hunting cap. But Gaerhold knew only too well the mocking smirk that would be surely on his mug. Magnus always won. Even now, as the boys hoisted the trophy to the air, a sturdy pole lashed through, Magnus held the lead and the younger one held proximity to the gory end of the carcass and the sickening smells flowing from the recently evacuated gut cavity.
"I should be leading, brother, I slayed him!" Gaerhold protested.
"But I spied him." Magnus shot back. "And besides, you are a lumbering fool who would surely stumble and break a tine. This one is to be skinned with great care and delivered to Mikkaeld and prepared for hanging on the firewall of the Great Hall. I will see to it myself. He is a majesty."
*Again* thought Gaerhold, *he is laying claim to what is mine.*
"Also, you are squat and round, so that if by chance we meet another hunting party, then this regal rack will be more prominently available for their compliments. Now shut your rattletrap and *hie*! We've only a few hours to escape this wald and cross the plain of Doors before the noon sun fries us like scrumpets."
"Hmpph" was all Gaerhold could muster, but he imagined himself one day casting a powerful trance-manche on his future lord. Transforming him into a donkey, perhaps a mute imp or a serving wench, and ruling all of the waldlands and plains himself with no further smirking disrespect from the one once known as Magnus.
These musings carried him forward and soon they had crossed the small wald and the plain and were back in the cool, moist air of the Tanswald. Home.
Cries from the Lookers echoed through the trees to signal their approach. Soon pounding hoofbeats in the distance, growing stronger as the riders neared. And then before them Mikkaeld himself and his daughter Vellyn, reining up close to Gaerhold on her spotted pony. Her smile was bright and her eyes seemed to tell Gaerhold that she was very impressed and proud of him. This stag was like no other she had seen, its rack virtually erupted into a swirling tangle of tines, seemingly without end to number.
Mikkaeld was transfixed and silent, slowly taking it in. "A gewirrstag", he finally whispered. "Very rare. And what a fine one you two have brought back! Your father will be very proud of your capture. Magnus, tell me of the chase."
"I shot him!" Gaerhold announced breathlessly. "Not on the first try. I missed. Then I took the breath as you showed me and kept my left eye open when your voice came after the breath. And he fell as a bag of stones would."
"Indeed. I see the mark. A shot worthy a hero," the huntsman praised. Vellyns eyes softened and she turned her attention onto Gaerhold. Mikkaeld continued, "This one will need to be treated with great care. Upon your Father's return, I shall have him proudly hung on the firewall. We must make haste with the skinning, as the leather will tan sturdy and the hide will shine more brightly. We will hoist him to the wellspring and as the slayer, then you Gaerhold will keep the honor and skin him. Take my horse by the rein and I will carry your portion to the wellspring. Vellyn, be a dear and fetch the knives."
Vellyn gave another glance of approval on Gaerhold and spun her pony and trotted off.
Now at the pole, Mikkaeld urged, "On Magnus."
Gaerhold grew giddy as the significance of what he'd accomplished began to set in. He imagined himself seated below the mount in the great hall as the far doors flung open and his father appeared within, to lay eyes on the magnificent Gewirrstag that his younger son had bagged in the forewald, a wald even commonly accepted as being haunted. What a fantastic accomplishment from such an unlikely source. Gaerhold the great. He liked the sound of that.
Gaerhold and Magnus drank heartily from the wellspring, the water sweet and cold. Vellyn arrived shortly with the knives and gave a slight kneel as she presented the oak case to Gaerhold. "My lord", she offered and removed the clasp and drew back the lid before him.
*Gads. So many!*, he thought as the display was revealed. Shiny forged steel blades mirrored the bright sky in a multitude of sizes and shapes and features. Some curved, some hooked, some pointed like needles, even those with sawtooth edges for cutting through bone. It seemed to him a puzzling array of mysterious implements worthy of a surgeon or a clock master.
"Nervous, boy?" Magnus chided.
"Step aside and learn." Gaerhold faked.
Gaerhold had watched enough skinnings to know the first blade to choose. He had usually lost interest in his previous viewings to know what came after, but for now it felt good to shut Magnus up. He hefted the large opener by the carved bone handle, curved like a scythe. With a few thrusts in the air like a swordsman, he levelled the blade at his brother, chin level.
"And be quiet about it." he warned.
"Skin the buck, son. Not your brother." chided the huntsman. "Start upon the gash left by the bleeding and begin a cape that follows the brunt of the shoulder on each side."
Gaerhold was amazed at how swiftly and delicately the knife sliced through the thick hide. The heat of life still trapped between the fat below the leather and the red muscle below that. He was careful to get below all of the fat and not pierce the transparent layer that filmed the muscle. He was aware of Vellyn and her soft breathing calmed him. He had never felt more like a man in his entire life. Powerful yet skilled. The focus of all attention. And mastering it.
He had finished one side of the cape to the leg joint, when he had the others roll the carcass to expose the other. Still armed with the scythe blade, he began the second cut when the blade was held fast only a few inches into the cut. It was as though cutting a cooked steak and encountering a tough piece of gristle. He withdrew the blade and felt the area with his free hand. Tough. A hardened lump or bump much like a callous. He sliced again to continue the cut, but the blade deflected and went off course.
"Careful, boy!" Mikkaeld warned. "What is the problem?"
"Master there is something wrong. The fat below has ceased and replaced by something else. It's as if there is bone there." Gaerhold reported.
"Switch to the serrated cleaver and saw along the cut line, after parting the hide." the teacher advised.
The saw blade seemed to make fair way, as Gaerhold progressed deeper through the tough gristle. The steel had fairly reached the depth of the adjoining cut when Gaerhold felt the bone handle rumble and a new sound of metal on bone was heard. Or different. Perhaps metal on rock? Yes. It was like metal on rock. He kept sawing and the noise grew louder.
"Wait." Mikkaeld urged. "What in hells domain have you gotten into?"
Gaerhold had no idea what it was, so he simply shrugged. At that, he was handed the dagger-like blade with a flat end with its own sharp edge. Gaerhold traded with the saw and felt around with the end of the new blade until it tapped on the hard portion. With a trust of both hands he was able to slide the steel down an inch or two along the side of the solid piece and into the meat below. A trickle of crimson blood welled up in the incision and he slid the knife further in. He caught a glimpse of black inside the wound. Black but shiny, like a black pearl. Gaerhold felt that the object may be able to be dislodged, like removing a stone from the post holes he had dug for his chore. And so with some prying on, and use of another blade's handle to form a lever, the object began to slowly emerge from the quarry's hold on it.
The four knelt in wonderment as Gaerhold liberated a treasure. Onyx black, shiny mica surface that glittered all the spectrum of colors. Set within the host - a hundred irridescent gems both vivid in color and translucent as well. So that each colored mineral could be viewed alone or though the lens of another, or many. It was an explosion of color but held fast in a solid matrix of black, in a way that defied each viewer's imagination. It was the most intense and singularly most beautiful object Gaerhold had ever seen.
They all gasped in unison and just sat in wonderment, their eyes held fast by the treasure. Finally Mikkaeld broke the silence.
"When I was but a lad younger than you, Gaerhold, my great uncle told me stories of the ancient ones who had such things. Things that have all supposedly vanished with the sands of time. Things so powerful and magical that a man would be loathe to heed his daily chore or vocation, for the chance to just stare at the beauty and magic within. His greatest and most beautiful lovers would lay waiting for him, wanton for love. Even then the man would be so bewitched and entranced as to simply look on, ignoring all and those he once held dear."
The boy had also once heard the story, long ago. Still intently staring at the treasure, Gaerhold asked "Is this one of the *reddits*, then?"
"Nay," Mikkaeld returned. "Even more rare and powerful, lad. For you have uncovered for us, on this glorious day, a *subreddit!*"
**EDIT** - paragraphs = achilles heel | 3 | 0 | 159 | 265 |
To all the new subscribers... | I like this! Just what I needed. | 2 | 0 | 159 | 266 |
To all the new subscribers... | I'm very glad I found this subreddit. I've been suffering from a writer's block for Maker knows how long. Hopefully this subreddit will help me move in the right direction. :) | 2 | 0 | 159 | 267 |
To all the new subscribers... | I'm looking forward to getting into writing again - so excited to make use of this subreddit. | 2 | 0 | 159 | 268 |
To all the new subscribers... | I think you got all the subs from the /bestof post. That is where I cam from to find this awesome subreddit. | 3 | 0 | 159 | 269 |
To all the new subscribers... | There...there's no downvote button here. I feel so free! | 17 | 0 | 159 | 270 |
To all the new subscribers... | This is awesome...once my summer college work is finished up this week it will be fun to write and get some feedback.
| 2 | 0 | 159 | 271 |
To all the new subscribers... | Came here from the best-of post on the front page. I'm so glad I found this subreddit! I need to hone and polish my writing skills and this place seems to be the answer. Thank you! | 3 | 0 | 159 | 272 |
To all the new subscribers... | I found this just now through r/bestof.
I was actually just thinking earlier today that I needed to look up writing prompts and start writing creatively again. Once again, reddit solves all my problems.
Also, no downvote button? I... it's so... beautiful... | 5 | 0 | 159 | 273 |
To all the new subscribers... | When the moderators of /r/BestOf announced they would be only allowing submissions from non-default subreddits, they were met with quite a bit of negative responses from Redditors who liked not having to browse entire /r/AskReddit threads and such.
But I disagree. Had it not been for that restriction, the comment that reached /r/BestOf probably wouldn't have been seen by nearly as many people, and over 1,500 Redditors wouldn't have discovered this subreddit. | 7 | 0 | 159 | 274 |
To all the new subscribers... | Noob from the bestof crowd.
Hoping you can motivate me to write again! | 2 | 0 | 159 | 275 |
To all the new subscribers... | Just monday night I was looking to write someting based on a prompt but google was giving me nothing but teacher exercises for students and then I saw the /r/bestof post linked here and my prayers were answered, thanks for being here! | 3 | 0 | 159 | 276 |
To all the new subscribers... | Hello. I was wondering if it is appropriate to post in this subreddit asking for paper topics. I.e. a writing assignment on a certain novel, etc. A reply would be much appreciated; I have asked before in another subreddit, but I received no replies. | 1 | 0 | 159 | 277 |
To all the new subscribers... | I'm so happy. Of course, I subscribed!
I'm 10 and would really like to become a writer and maybe even illustrate my own stories. I really want to practice being a better writer. This subreddit looks perfect-- I just discovered it today-- and all these prompts are interesting and I'd like to try all of them out.
Thanks so much for making this subreddit so we can all practice and be better writers (or maybe just have a little writing fun)! X3 | 3 | 0 | 159 | 278 |
To all the new subscribers... | This is an awesome subreddit...the anonymous factor will really help me share as I'm always kind of nervous/embarrassed to show real friends anything I write. | 5 | 0 | 159 | 279 |
To all the new subscribers... | This is awesome man. | 3 | 0 | 159 | 280 |
To all the new subscribers... | Yessss so excited about this, not sure if I'll really have time, but definitely thrilled. I just recently, in the last month or so, started freelancing and I LOVE it! I forget how great it is to be able to write and use your brain everyday, and actually enjoy what you do.
I'm currently a quarter of the way into my book, so I'm pretty excited to get some creative tasks to challenge myself with. <3
| 3 | 0 | 159 | 281 |
To all the new subscribers... | I'm jumping on this bandwagon. I hope everyone coming here is bright and able to expand this subreddit in a way that accentuates it's purpose. This seems like a sophisticated community. I would hate to see it crowded and dumbed-down just because it got bestof'd. | 5 | 0 | 159 | 282 |
To all the new subscribers... | From another new subscriber - thank you for creating the subreddit! It will be great to get the rust off my writing skills. | 3 | 0 | 159 | 283 |
To all the new subscribers... | I'm happy I found this place :) I love to write but I've been out of practice lately. I actually have a little blog I write short stories/blurbs to pictures I find online. Maybe I'll share that soon.... | 3 | 0 | 159 | 284 |
To all the new subscribers... | [deleted] | 3 | 0 | 159 | 285 |
[IP] Sad birthday kitty | Another birthday? They all seem to blend together now. As usual, I'm wearing my Sunday's best to this pity party. I used to love sweets, but now I have cholesterol and blood sugar levels to worry about. Just a sliver for me, thanks.
I put my game face on as best as possible. I don't want to depress everyone. They're all there for me. What should I wish for? I have a favorite mouse toy already. A scratching post. The litter box is usually clean. I know - less hairballs. That seems to be what I wish for every year, it never comes true.
"What are you gunna wish for little buddy?" I can't tell if my master is being condescending as he scratches the top of my head. God, I hate him sometimes, but he knows I love headrubs.
I linger, staring at the candles for a few more moments. I know my wish: I want to go outside. I want to hunt while I still have a youthful spring in my legs. I want... to live. | 19 | 0 | 15 | 286 |
[IP] Sad birthday kitty | Despite how hard Laura tried to make it a joyous occasion, Charles' birthday was nevertheless just another painful reminder of how much time had passed.
Learning to enjoy cat food, clean himself and deal with hairballs, working out a rudimentary form of communication all seemed like temporary fixes a couple years ago. But Laura, ever the optimist, had chided him into coping with his "condition."
Charles stared blankly at the candles flickering before him. His wife smiled cheerfully opposite him, crooning "happy birthday." He stared straight through her, thinking about that night.
If he hadn't been drinking. If he had been watching were I was going. If he hadn't bullied Laura into giving him road head. If he hadn't been such an asshole, he might have avoided that cat in the road.
But no. I was an asshole. A drunk, bullying asshole, Charles thought bitterly. And so I hit that old woman's cat.
That old woman, who was howling unlike any person or animal he'd ever heard before when he exited the car, begging for forgiveness.
Charles glanced out the window as he thought about how the woman had wheeled around, snarling and spitting at him. How he barely heard Laura's muffled shriek as the woman bit into the cat, spewing its blood all over Charles face, chanting gibberish.
How the next day, he'd woken up as a cat. And how he'd remained that way ever since.
He turned his attention back to Laura, who was finishing up the song.
"Make a wish!" she chirped.
Charles sighed and looked at the candles.
I wish I wasn't a fucking cat, he thought.
He mentally paused for a moment, and decided that he'd settle for his neighbor to start leaving her blinds open again when she brought guys home.
Then he nodded to Laura, who blew out the candles. | 4 | 0 | 15 | 287 |
[IP] Sad birthday kitty | Rupert had never wanted to be a cat.
He had always liked cats - idolised them, even, as any three-year-old boy might be wont to do - but that was as far as it had ever gone. He would quite often lie down on the sofa, a perfectly happy human child, and play with his very own dear Mr Tibbles. He had never had any desire to actually be a cat himself.
Of course, he now knew, thanks to the cynicism that being a cat provided, that one does not always get what one wants in life - sometimes, one gets a load of nonsense thrown at oneself, and it is all one can do to deal with it. Sitting there in his foolishly undersized cat-chair, in a shbirt and with a birthday cake in front of him, Rupert was indeed dealing with a load of nonsense.
It had been like this ever since the accident - Rupert's parents trying to ignore or at least be happy with the fact that their son was now a cat, while said son tried not to do anything too foolishly cat-like. He tried to retain some dignity, even in this state.
Just the fact that Rupert knew what dignity was had been enough to depress him horribly - before the change, he had been a perfectly happy and ignorant toddler, content to figure the world out as he went along, at his own pace. Cats, though - a three-year-old cat was already any adult, and so he had a whole new world of knowledge thrust upon him, without him even wanting it. It was enough to make even the cutest kitty caliginous.
Still, though, he had to brave it - for his parents, at least. Even if he was condemned to a life of feline misery, he wasn't going to condemn his parents to the same. In a way, he enjoyed it, as well - it was a way of rebelling against his new nature. A proper cat would never place the happiness of its family over that of itself, only a human would do that. It was the very least he could do.
Emitting a weary sigh as he did so, Rupert blew out the four birthday candles before him, and watched with a melancholy lack of interest as the flames flickered away into nothing, just as he had done.
"Four cheers for the birthday cat!" He gritted his uncomfortably sharp teeth as his parents cheered him on with his futile life, and he tried to block it out. At least there was cake, though - even as a cat, he could enjoy that. He ate it up with a typical feline voraciousness, and excused himself from the table for a while. Perhaps, now, he could finally get some peace on this horrible day. He just hoped that Mr Tibbles didn"t have a surprise birthday present in store for him.
Rupert still wasn't quite used to the idea of dead mice.
---
I hope you're happy with this, because I felt ludicrous writing it. Also, apologies for any typos - I wrote it first on my typewriter, and I have not yet grown used to the peculiarly different layout of my Bluetooth keyboard.
EDIT: Oh gosh, here I am with this little piece of whimsy, while you're all above me being all sophisticated an writing serious things. I feel like a plebeian. | 5 | 0 | 15 | 288 |
[IP] Sad birthday kitty | "At least the cake came out right..." He thought. It was the fifteenth cake he'd been forced to bake for himself since his mother died. Same ingredients every time. The strawberries and buttercream, the only memory he held against the tired backdrop of the mundane. The list of ingredients, frayed and edges torn, was lazily strolling through his mind as he looked at the cake.
Behind the cake was an empty kitchen. "Four candles," he said aloud, testing the air, "Will I be four forever?" This night was nothing more than ritual. Devin wasn't going to eat this cake. He was going to mourn it. Hold it aloft.
He didn't even get himself presents. | 10 | 0 | 15 | 289 |
[IP] Sad birthday kitty | Smokey studied the flickering candles, memories whirring through his head. He knew today was supposed to be a day of celebration, but he simply could not muster any joy in his heart. Letting go a soft mrrow of sadness, Smokey looked around for his beloved master. Old hands now wrinkled after the many years, gently caressed Smokey’s head. His owner’s tired eyes met Smokey’s sad ones. Smokey let out a broken purr, his heart growing ever heavier.
“Well hey there Smokey, come to see this old timers birthday party? I see my daughter dressed you in your best clothes.” Master’s rough voice echoed through Smokey ears. Smokey hardly understood what his master was saying, but he purred harder, trying to express his love for this kind man. Smokey could feel that everything would soon change. It was as if he could taste it in the air. Smokey recalled the day he was rescued. As a kitten he wandered, partially blind from the city grit. His master, this wonderful man, saved him. And now it was almost his master’s time. Pressing his ears tightly against his head, Smokey looked back at the consuming flame. This would be the last birthday party for master, Smokey was positive. As the old man blew out his candles, Smokey laid a paw on his master’s hand.
| 6 | 0 | 15 | 290 |
[IP] Sad birthday kitty | It's been a full year now. One orbital period of the sun moving around the Earth. Each day worse then the next. Each breath more painful then the last. When did my life start its downward spiral into hell. Was it when I lost my favourite toy Mr. Chuckles. Or when I was left outside in the middle of nowhere by my horrible master, forced to walk weeks on my own. Or when Luna died.
Luna. How long has it been since I last saw your beautiful smile. The smile the would utterly destroy all of my inner barriers and defences. The smile that always made me think if I died right now, I would die happy. The eyes that were more perfect then any gem and shines far brighter then the moon. A voice so smooth that can cream any singer's any day. Oh Luna.
One year. It's been one year since I last saw you. One year of regret. One year of disgust. One year of hate. One year of nothingness. God you cruel heartless bastard. Oh Luna.
You said that it was your time. Your time to leave this world. Your time to explore the next. I can never except that. You would tell me not to cry after you passed on but I've cried everyday since you left. Its been one year since your death. Today is our anniversary of our marriage and your death. Till tomorrow. Good bye Luna, you will always be missed. | 1 | 0 | 15 | 291 |
[IP] Sad birthday kitty | Julius never liked birthdays. He always had some kind of *thing* against them. Maybe it was all the attention. He was far from the star of the show. He preferred to stay in the shadows and observe. Birthdays always came with the idea of "it's your day". Julius never felt as though it was *his* day. It was just another day of the year that happened to fall on the day of his birth. People got excited and wished Julius a happy birthday. Julius put on a fake smile and with a pessimistic attitude thanked them. His mother would always insist on having a party. She was the type of feline that just liked to be with friends and family. Julius always thought he was adopted. His mother would prepare a idealistic cake for a young kitty like Julius. She would put in several hours to make the perfect cake for her kitten. When she brought the cake out, everyone would sing and pur to Julius. Although he would sit there with a blank face on trying his best not to ruin the day for others. None the less, Julius did **not** like birthdays. | 1 | 0 | 15 | 292 |
[IP] Sad birthday kitty | I had them when I was 2. I still remember how terrified I was that day. I felt like life had just started for me, and yet I was already bringing other beings into the world. The fear melted away when I saw my baby boy for the first time. I actually became hysterically happy once his sister joined him. For eight weeks, Patches and Sarah were my world.
Eight weeks is hardly enough time to spend with your kittens. What made their departure worse was how unexpected it was. I guess I naively believed that my owner loved me enough to let me keep them. Even now, I resent him for taking them away. I mark his pillow and bring dead animals in the house. Sadly, that idiot wouldn't recognize a threat even if it hissed and latched onto his face.
I haven't enjoyed a birthday since my babies left. I only think about the significant parts of their lives that I'm missing. I'm not going to see their cakes slowly fill with candles year by year. Nor will I watch them get gangly and awkward. I miss them. I love them. But I will never see them again. | 1 | 0 | 15 | 293 |
[IP] Sad birthday kitty | [deleted] | 1 | 0 | 15 | 294 |
[IP] Sad birthday kitty | The cat wept in the corner for no apparent reason. It was his birthday. There was no reason for him to be upset- but he was for some reason. He didn't even know why. His owner always celebrated it, although over years they had become routine for the both of them. His owner, Margaret, prepares a cake, and then takes a picture of Robert in front of it. "Robert! Where are you? Robert?" she exclaimed as she searched for him throughout her little house. When she finally saw him in the corner, she paused for a second, and then started laughing. "Oh, Mr. Whiskers! You are such a jokester." she exclaimed as she picks him up off of his feet.
He absolutely *hated* when she would call him that. As he is lifted from the ground, he hisses, and reaches all four of his limbs to desperately try and cling on to what he can grab on to of the carpet. But, as he has come to learn, humans are quite stronger than cats. His owner looks down at him as she holds him in her arms. "Oh, Robert... It's been 4 years. Can you believe that?" She then pats him on the back and kisses him on the forehead. She takes him into the kitchen, and then lets him get a glimpse of his prize. A gigantic birthday cake, complete with 4 candles stuck into the top. "I know how much you liked cake, Robert- and it always was a family tradition to make a cake for every birthday." Robert begins to reach out his paws towards the cake, trying to grab at it. "Robert! What do you think you are..." his owner is cut off mid-sentence as Robert leaps out of her hands, trying to go for the cake.
"Bad Robert!" she exclaims as she grabs a bottle of Windex from the counter and begins to spray him with it. Robert runs through the hallways of the house, attempting to get away. He sees the door to the basement is cracked open, so he runs inside. He is intelligent enough to run forward into the door to shut it. His owner cannot come in, now. It's locked. Robert decides to look around the basement. Everything is normal- like all the other rooms in the house- except for one thing- there is a shelf, filled with old photos. Of his owner, but with a boy. Each picture was of the boy sitting next to his birthday cake and the owner. As he walked cross the shelf, the boy got older in the photos. But after a few, the photos stopped coming. The rest were pictures of the owner-alone. She kept making the cakes. When he got to the last photo, he noticed something in writing. And for some reason, he could understand it. "I will never be whole again without you, Robert". The date was marked as "2008". He stumbles back in fear, and then runs into the next room.
And then he sees it. A intricate machine, with 2 pipes running out of each end. Each pipe had a dome at the end, as if to fit someones head in. Everything in the room was cold, like it was a walk-in freezer. He then saw something that was even more horrifying than the machine. It was the boy from the pictures- leaning on the wall- facing him. The boy's head was scalped, and his brain was missing. Dried blood crusted the walls, and the boy's body was rotting. Robert the cat examined the machine, and then the body, and then realized what his owner had done to him. He is a monster. He goes up to the highest point he can get to- on top of the shelf with all the pictures. He had heard before, in his past life that he now remembers vividly- that cats always land on their feet. But luckily for him, he was not only a cat.
He had to destroy himself- an abomination of nature. But before he could jump, he is confronted by his owner. "Sweetie, get down from there, now!" she screams as she runs to him. She grabs him from the top of the shelf, and then takes him upstairs. "I'm sorry I tried to spray you again, Robert" she says as she pets him. "I'll give you your birthday cake now, sweetie. Just stay put right there. Let me get a picture, first." She takes out her camera, and then snaps a picture of her son in front of his birthday cake. "Sweetie, don't look at me like that. You know I spray you for a reason" she says after she puts her camera back in her pocket. She picks up Robert and kisses his nose. "The only crime I've ever committed is loving you". | 1 | 0 | 15 | 295 |
[IP] Sad birthday kitty | There were more presents last year... | 2 | 0 | 15 | 296 |
[IP] Sad birthday kitty | I couldn't help but frown as I snapped a picture of my little friend. I knew what he was thinking and it hurt to think about. He didn't even taste the cake in front of him, he could tell by the scent it wasn't hers...and he was right, it wasn't...it wasn't going to be her cake ever again.
| 2 | 0 | 15 | 297 |
Picture Prompt; Write 500 words or less with this
image as the inspiration. | The last piece of broken promises had shattered onto the floor. She couldn’t take it anymore. Tonight she was finally taking things into her own hands, under her own control. The tree top swayed as she scaled down its trunk and onto the hard ground. She took one last look at the house filled with dead dreams, wiped the tears from her eyes, and took off. She ran through town and out into the woods. She passed a landscape of wasted years. Memories flashed through her thoughts interrupting her pace. In the empty forest she let out a loud scream and fell to the ground trembling. “Why, why, why, why?” she kept screaming, pounding her fists into the ground. Hours later she awoke. She picked herself up, wiped off the dirt, and continued. Her feet pumping across the land, gaining ground, she burst from the forest. The moon eloquently outlined where she would meet him. She glanced at her phone one last time then threw it away. This was the end of whom she used to be and the beginning of who she wanted to be. | 5 | 0 | 14 | 298 |
Picture Prompt; Write 500 words or less with this
image as the inspiration. | Its only natural. At 68 years old, why would we want to leave? Jane and I wanted to rip up our tickets home right there. We would just live in Paris. Is it that strange? Is it truly outrageous to do something so careless at that age? I didn't think so. What else did we have? We had a nice home, a nice neighborhood, and a nice life. But we could have so much more. The city, the people, the food, the culture, it just seems so carefree. So....thoughtless. That's what amazed me. There was no thought needed to have happiness. We could just...live. We could just take any moment by the reins and lead it and control it and love it. No bills to be paid, no lawn to be cut, just living. But we both knew it couldn't happen. Nothing is that perfect... | 1 | 0 | 14 | 299 |
Subsets and Splits