#VisDare 126 : Lift

I froze. Motionless. Terrified, excited, confused, exhausted, and completely lost. I’d reached the end of the crack. I stood, frozen in time, looking out of the wall of reality. Looking out at a world, a universe, I’d never known, and never imagined.

There was something outside of reality. The proof was before me. All I had to do was step out of the crack, into a completely new reality. A reality where everything I knew was confined in a tiny space.

Green trees and grasses were everywhere. Flowers covered everything. Here and there, I saw huge domes rising from the ground. I wondered what those domes were.

I felt my foot lift from inside the crack, and I watched it move forward, then settle on the ground outside the crack. The rest of me followed. And in that moment, that breath, I knew my life would never be the same.

150 Words
@LurchMunster

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Part 7 of a story I’m writing for Angela Goff’s Visual Dare. Please read the other entries in this week’s Visual Dare challenge. Be amazed at the magic people can put into 150 words or less.

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#FlashMobWrites 1 x 48 : I’m So Happy I Could Die

They got in Charlie’s car and Charlie turned it on. The satellite radio started playing the song from the bar, and Darla’s voice kept singing along with it. Charlie changed the station, then changed it again, and again. Every station had the same song. Darla was everywhere.

Charlie turned the radio off. Bob stared at him, “She’s come back to get us, hasn’t she?”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts!” Charlie put the car in gear, looked over his shoulder, and backed out of the parking space. When he put the car in drive and looked out the front windshield, Darla was standing there, pointing at him and Bob.

The look on their faces was priceless. “Remember, Charlie. There’s no such thing as ghosts,” I chuckled. “God, I love holograms.”

Charlie ran over Darla. Bob turned whiter than snow. Neither of them realized I was in the back seat, trying not to laugh, waiting until the first stoplight for my next move. It came soon enough.

I did have to wonder what they thought, sitting at that stop light, watching Darla drive by in car after car. Watching her sit in the driver’s seat of the car behind them as she pointed an accusing finger at them, and mouthed the silent words, “You murdered me.”

Bob wet himself.

Charlie bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

Darla was everywhere they looked on the drive. Bob gave up, closed his eyes, and put his hands over them. Charlie drove, and was stuck seeing her everywhere. I wasn’t the least bit sorry for torturing them the way I did. I planned to torture them endlessly until the ghost of Darla forced them to confess to their actions.

The drive ended when they reached Charlie’s place. “Finally,” Charlie mumbled. Bob excused himself, and headed to the bathroom to clean up. Charlie went to his kitchen, pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He called out to Bob, “You drink your whiskey neat, right?” Bob answered yes, so Charlie poured two shots, neat and carried them to the main room. He grabbed the remote, and switched on the power for his entertainment system.

Charlie picked a channel from the online guide that was showing a favorite movie of his. He sat on his sofa, and pushed the play button.

And was greeted by Darla’s hidden burial site in the woods, displayed in full color, in high resolution, on his 70 inch screen, accompanied by the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind, the birds singing now and then.

Charlie sat there. He couldn’t move. He stared at the screen. The remote fell to the carpet.

Bob finished what he was doing, and returned to the room to see the same scene.

That’s when Darla showed up on the TV. She stood next to her shallow grave. “You did this to me,” she whispered. “I’ll never leave you alone.” She looked out from the screen, “You stole my life. Now I’m stealing yours.”

497 Words
@LurchMunster

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This is Part 6 of a story I’m writing using the prompts for the #FlashMobWrites challenge. #FlashMobWrites is hosted by Ruth Long and Cara Michaels.  Please, go read all the stories for #FlashMobWrites Week 1×48. You might find something you like. But if you don’t read them, how will you ever know?

#VisDare 125 : Candid

It took time, and wasn’t easy. The bruises and cuts hurt. The physical pain stopped me many times and I wondered if I’d ever make it through the wall to whatever was outside. But I couldn’t go back. I knew the crack was sealed, but I’d gone so far into the wall I didn’t know if I could make it back if I tried.

When I stopped, I saw the light ahead of me. Something was outside the wall. So I never gave up. Always, I started toward that light once more.

At night, I slept, and dreamed of the people I’d known. I saw them in pictures, snapshots, candid photographs. They were all dead, skeletons disguised as people. No hearts, no souls, only empty, living in their empty, safe, little world, inside the wall, in a tiny reality.

And always, I woke, and started toward the light again.

149 Words
@LurchMunster

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Part 6 of a story I’m writing for Angela Goff’s Visual Dare. Please read the other entries in this week’s Visual Dare challenge. Be amazed at the magic people can put into 150 words or less.

Waiting…

He sits.
In silence.
In his own little world.
All the windows are closed and sealed.
The curtains closed.
He sits.
In the dark.

Long ago
He cried.
But no more.
All his tears dried up.
He has no more tears
To cry.

He sits.
In silence.
And he waits.
For the chaos.
For the violence.
For the blood.

Not his.

Everyone’s.

He bows his head,
And prays.
“If there is a way,
Let what is to come
Stay there.
In the future.
Let it never happen.
Let midnight never strike.”

He prays in desperation.
For he knows.
He knows what is to come.
He see it.
Every time he closes his eyes.
Every time he sleeps.
In his mind.

He feels it.
Every breath he takes.
With every beat
Of his heart.

And in silence he prays.
“If there is no way.
If it has to come.
If this must be.
Then…”
He looks to the heavens
And he tries to breathe.
He wishes in the dark
The pain in his soul
Would go away.
“Turn my heart to stone.
Bind my eyes.
Sew them shut.
Cut my hands away.”
He wants to scream.
But all his screams are gone.
They abandoned him
So long ago.

“Make it so
I can’t feel
Any more.”

He begs.
He pleads.
As he always has.
Even though he knows
His pleas will go unanswered.
As they always have.
As they always will.

For a man’s not made
Of stone.

And so he knows the truth.
He has to live,
Always,
With the tears
His soul cries
Every moment,
Every day.

As he waits.
While he sits.
In the dark.
Alone.
And waits.
And watches.
As the world around him
Slowly goes insane.

And he wonders
How many more will die.
How much blood
Will soak into the ground.
Will it ever be enough
To make the world he never made
Begin to change.

He sits alone.
In the dark.
And he knows.
And is afraid.
The answer is,
And always will be.

No.

#VisDare 124 : Unexpected

The way back was blocked, sealed by those inside the world they knew. That was unexpected on my part, that they would seal me out. I heard her voice, “Don’t panic. Don’t do anything stupid.” Something perfect to say to someone inside a wall.

All I could do was go forward. But forward to what, to where? There was light ahead, with colors. Nothing but colors, and the unknown.

Inside the crack, it wasn’t smooth, it wasn’t clean. There was dust everywhere, jagged edges, sharp points. I bumped into them, cut myself, bruised myself, banged my head.

I was heading into the unknown. I didn’t know how thick the wall was, how long it would take to get through it. All I knew is I couldn’t go back. Those behind me had seen to that.

All I had left was the light, and the colors, beyond the wall.

148 Words
@LurchMunster

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Part 5 of a story I’m writing for Angela Goff’s Visual Dare. Please read the other entries in this week’s Visual Dare challenge. Be amazed at the magic people can put into 150 words or less.

#LoveBites 2016 : Cupid’s Got Nothing On Me!

Teddy looked at the calendar. “February 14, 2016. Fucking Valentine’s Day.” He looked at the crossbow on his sofa, and the thirty odd bolts he had for it. “I won’t be bringing a single bolt home.”

This was his year. His Valentine’s Day. The day he celebrated love his way, the way the world taught him love worked. All those guys who had all the girls had better be ready. Teddy was going out on Valentine’s Day.

He picked up the crossbow, and the bolts, carried them to his car. He heard the voices in his head again, endlessly, like he always did. “Poor Teddy. Can’t get a girl. Sits at home alone. He’s such a geek. No girl would be caught dead dating Teddy.” He turned on his car, his tiny little Toyota, with its hatchback, as he listened to the laughter in his head, “Teddy bought a car! Look, it’s so cute! Looks like one of those Hot Wheels cars. The kind you have to push to get it to go anywhere. Not a real car at all. But it works for him, right? After all. Who’s going to be riding in it with him?”

Always, it came back to Teddy being alone. Everyone he knew, everyone he worked with, spent time celebrating Valentine’s Day. Except him. They all knew it, and the never let him forget it. Not for one minute.

“So, Teddy? How was your date Friday night?”

“So, Teddy? Was your $50 spent well this weekend?”

“So, Teddy? Is Miss March worth the cost of the magazine?”

“Shh, guys. We can’t talk about that kind of stuff around Teddy. He doesn’t understand it.”

On and on it went, day after day, endlessly. “Just because I don’t have a girl!” He turned the volume up on the car stereo until it hurt his ears to listen. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care if he went deaf, all that meant was he wouldn’t have to hear what they said to him.

Teddy drove to the movie theater, the “Regal 24”, where he sat in his car, and waited by the theater exit doors. He knew what he had to do, what he needed to do. He had to show them, show the world, he was a real man.

When the first of the doors opened, Teddy got out his car, picked up the crossbow, and a hand full of bolts. He’d practiced hours on end, for weeks, for months, in the woods where he’d set up a small range. He knew how to use his crossbow. How to set it, aim it, fire it. He knew he wouldn’t miss.

He set the first bold, picked a target, fired. “One less person who thinks I’m a failure!”

He fired again. Then again. And again. Until he ran out of his hand-full of bolts. Oh, the panic. Oh, the chaos. People running. Screaming. Hiding behind anything. Tripping. Running over each other. Girls, screaming over the bodies of their boyfriends.

When he ran out of bolts, Teddy got in his car, and drove off, to the next theater, to wait for another movie to end. He had more bolts to get rid of, and the night was young.

“Fucking Valentine’s Day my ass.” He grinned, and laughed. “No one’s gonna forget me!” He laughed harder, “Cupid’s got nothing on me!”

Teddy made sure it was a Valentine’s Day no one would ever forget.

570 Words
@LurchMunster

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Thus ends my entry in Ink After Dark’s Love Bites 2016 flash fiction challenge. It was entertaining to write, and I hope it was fun to read. Now, go read all the other entries in Love Bites 2016. There are some amazing little stories, well worth reading.

#FlashMobWrites 1 x 46 : Victorious

Bob and Charlie, that was there names. Bob was the nervous one, the one the blonde told Charlie to take out for drinks. I wasn’t worried about the blonde that night, she’d sleep well in her bed. Bob and Charlie, on the other hand, wouldn’t sleep that night. They wouldn’t sleep for a long time.

Charlie picked the place, Boneshakers, a bar and grill, heavy on the bar. Country music boomed from the speakers of the entertainment system, and some country star cried his heart out to the music on a giant theater screen on one wall. I ignored it all, the crowd, the dancing, the drinking. I wasn’t interested in that. I watched Charlie and Bob.

Charlie ordered the first round, “A couple of Buds!” He patted Bob’s shoulder, “You OK, buddy?”

“I keep seeing her stuff everywhere.”

“I know what you mean. I see it everywhere too.”

Bob chugged half his beer, “Yeah, but you sleep at night.” His thumbs pressed against the sides of the can, almost bent it before he caught himself, and pulled them back. But his fingers couldn’t stop moving, and pressed against the can, making little “clack” sounds as the can popped back into shape each time his fingers shifted. “I haven’t slept in days.”

“That’s why we’re here, buddy. We both need to relax.” Charlie waved at the bartender, “Another round over here.” Bob drained his first can, then let his fingers crush the sides in. The bartender walked over with two fresh cans, put them down. Bob nearly choked, Charlie stood up, “What the fuck?” Darla’s picture was on the side of each can, another picture was on the bar.

“What’s wrong, guys?”

They didn’t say anything.

“Oh, the cans? Yeah. We got a whole shipment of them with different pictures stuck on them. Some special can. Saw them when we opened the case.” He sighed, “The guy that delivered them was surprised. Didn’t know what it was.” He picked up a can, turned it around, “See?” The can said, “In Memory Of The Unsolved Cases”.

The bartender shrugged, “Pretty morbid thing to do, don’t you think?”

Bob and Charlie sat there, staring at the cans. “She’s haunting us, right?”

“Bob, there’s no such thing as ghosts.”

I stood behind them, invisible in my armor. It was time to sing, in Darla’s voice. I sang along with the song. Bob turned pale, almost white. Charlie spilled his drink, “Shit!”

They got up, left the bar, I tagged along. Darla’s ghost wasn’t done with them that night. Not by a long shot. Their night was going to be long, black, and poisonous. A night they’d never forget.

445 Words
@LurchMunster

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This is Part 5 of a story I’m writing using the prompts for the #FlashMobWrites challenge. #FlashMobWrites is hosted by Ruth Long and Cara Michaels.  Please, go read all the stories for #FlashMobWrites Week 1×46. You might find something you like. But if you don’t read them, how will you ever know?

#VisDare 123 : Evacuate

The fences others built around me grew each day. “We can’t trust you. You won’t patch the wall. If you patch the wall, we’ll take our fences down. Be like us. Be safe. Patch the wall.”

“No.” I could see outside the wall. There was more there. I guarded the crack, protected it, let it grow.

When the crack was large enough, I squeezed into it, started working my way through the wall. I wanted to see what was outside the wall. But, without me to stop them, those inside the wall, inside reality, patched the crack. They sealed me out. I could not return. All I had left was what lay outside the wall.

I declared I’d chosen to evacuate their reality, leave the safety of the world inside the wall, see the bigger world outside the wall.

To be free from the small reality inside the wall.

149 Words
@LurchMunster

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Part 4 of a story I’m writing for Angela Goff’s Visual Dare. Please read the other entries in this week’s Visual Dare challenge. Be amazed at the magic people can put into 150 words or less.