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[Gishface]

Not Much of a Consolation

I remember how it used to be.  The heat, the noise, it made you feel so – so alive, you know?  Well, I guess you wouldn't.  Back then we had jobs, we knew who we were, what we were supposed to do.  We had a home.

In retrospect, we should have seen it coming.  I mean, with all of those people and pickaxes working day and night (not that you know what day and night are when you're down in the darkness), it was only a matter of time.  What?  No, I wasn't one of the ones pounding away on the rocks. I was an overseer, I made sure everyone did what they were supposed to do.  It was a kind of power, I suppose, but one that has since been stripped from me.

Anyway.  Back to the story.

We had been mining this particular vein for years, with almost nothing to show for it.  And then one day this kid, this little skinny nothing of a runt, lifts a pickaxe that's almost bigger than he is and jams into into the cave wall.  And suddenly there's this sucking noise, and this liquid starts gushing out.  Everyone stops mining and runs over, they just can't believe their eyes.  But not me.  I turn around and run for the exit.  Because as soon as I saw it, I realized what that goddamned fluid was.

Water.

The ensuing torrent put out all the fires and flooded everything up a treat, but that wasn't the worst of it by far.  Apparently we came up under some sort of chemical dumping ground, and – well, I'm no scientists, but we have plenty of them about (Germans, mostly), and they kept muttering on about “flash freeze” this and “super-coolant” that.  The upshot of all that is what you see right now, all around you.

Oh, we tried to impose order again, but it just didn't work; people kept ditching us to play games of pick-up hockey or have snowball fights.  There's really no way you can maintain the necessary atmosphere with that kind of devil-may-care attitude, and eventually we just had to give up.

So now the big man just sits on his throne of skulls all day, icicles hanging from his earlobes, watching the souls of the damned do figures-of-eight and double Axels on what used to be the plane of eternal suffering.  And me and the boys just sit on our tails, drinking mugs of beer and remembering better days.

Admittedly, the beer tastes quite a lot better now.

But that's not much of a consolation.

[warmonger256]

When hell froze over

"Excellent job, Sgt. Morrison," Lt. Graves congratulated. "Your efforts of suppressing the terrorists on the eastern side of the city. Your leadership and commanding skills are exceptional. I must recommend you for promotion."

"Thank you sir." I said. "I was just doing my duty, sir."

"We all do, Sergeant. We need to report on Base Command about our progress. In the meantime -"

An explosion rocked us. Both me and the Lieutenant were knocked off our feet and in our knees. The windows were immediately shattered by the force of the blast.

"Sh*t!" the lieutenant exclaimed. "What the hell happened!" He was screaming at his radio.

"We were hit by demomen sir!" A voice on the radio yelled. "All equipped with IEDs! More of them are approaching and we're doing our best to keep them at bay, sir!"

Another voice could be heard on the radio. "Sir! We are being suppressed by heavy gunfire! Request air support, over!"

Command began to speak on the radio. "Hold on, Bravo, we're sending your coordinates to our nearby birds. Lt. Graves and Sgt. Morrison, head over to Bravo's position and provide covering fire. They are half a klick west from your position."

"Roger that." Lt. Graves said. Then he turned back to me. "Sergeant, let's move."

Outside, numerous cacophonies of gunfire and explosions can be heard. There were conflict everywhere. The terrorists detonated bombs as diversion and to weaken our strategic points. They are now heavily pushing our defenses. However, now is not the time to surrender.

I wielded my M4A1 with utmost accuracy. I easily dispatched a couple of hostiles along the way. When we reached the vicinity of the Bravo team, I spotted them prone in the bushes. They were heavily suppressed by a huge group of hostiles.

The wave of hostiles were relentless. There seems to be a never ending amount of terrorists. To add salt to the wound, they seem to be increasing every minute. Nevertheless, we did our best giving support for the suppressed Bravo.

"Bravo team, this is Base." Command was on the radio. "Please be advised that intelligence has picked up two chemical warheads heading fast to your position. Retreat back to safer ground together with Lt. Graves and Sgt. Morrison. Command out."

"Sergeant, we need to get Bravo out." Lt. Graves said, then I followed his point to Bravo.

We reached Bravo and were able to get them out of trouble. The sounds of gunfire slowly faded, and we assumed that we were now safe. However, another entity has broken the peace.

My eyes did not have time to witness the explosion. They were already corroded by the gases released into the air. As my vision turned into a weird mess of colors and contrasts, my lungs were burning. I felt pain like never before in my entire life, and, all of a sudden, the pain stops, and my vision failed.

[Ramblingdad]

The one who got away

“That bitch,” I mumbled to myself as I walked back to my truck. “That stupid fucking bitch,” I repeated as I pulled the keys from my pocket.

“How could she stand there and lie to the judge like that?” I questioned myself as I started the truck and pulled out of the court’s parking lot.

“There she is!” I bellowed, as I saw her step off the curb and into the crosswalk a half block in front of me.

“I’ll teach you to shake your skinny ass at the judge and jury,” I promised as I pushed my foot hard onto the accelerator.

“Tell me how it feels to have two tons of American steel coming at you at 40 miles per hour, bitch," I screamed to myself, hoping she could hear.

"No!” I roared, as she finished crossing the street and I missed hitting her by several yards.

Dammit all to hell!” I blustered as she got away, again.

[Ramblingdad]

Going Home

For hours I've been here. The pain is unbearable. I see two others, but they are not in pain as I am. Nails through my hands, a crown of thorns on my head, thirst making my tongue swell. I can hear my mother crying out and it tears at my soul. The weight of my own body tears my hands bloody and some smartass just pushed a sword through my side.

"Dear father, why have you forsaken me?"

"I have not, my son. It is time for you to come home."





(I am going to be soo smited at church this afternoon)

[ArsonTheMusical]

WHENCE HELL FREEZETH OVER

“Yorke?”

“Yorke? Hey. Hey, Yorke.”

“Huh?” I snapped out of my reverie, letting my gaze finally drift away from the perfectly cloudless sky and down to my friends’ goofiness. “What?”

“Dude, I said, ‘what. are. the. plans. for. tonight?’” Mick emphasized the last six words slowly and overly-loudly, enunciating like I was not only impaired, but utterly foreign to the English language. Mick was kind of an asshole.

“Oh, uh, I dunno. I mean. It’s been awhile since I’ve had plans to make or anything.” I said, trying to convince my eyes not to wander back up to the sky. It had been forever - well, two and a half years - since I’d seen a sky that wasn’t gray and pregnant with snow.

“We could go out to the Nine, drink whiskey till you die. Help you get over, y’know, whatever.”

I leveled the best “Fuck You, Mick” gaze I could at him, said "Fuck you, Mick," adjusted my hat, adjusted the collar on my shirt, adjusted my belt, looked around for more stuff to adjust, because I couldn’t actually think of a good reason not to go. “Uh.” I said, stupidly. “Um.”

“Yeah I know, you’ll do that when hell freezes over. Man. Ever since you got back you’ve been sorta weird dude.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed, and once again said “Uh.”  I couldn't really explain my mood, not in simple terms, and not to a person like Mick.

After a good minute of pinching the bridge of my nose, I said “You know, I came back from Frozen Hell not too long ago. I didn’t drink whiskey there either. It’ll take a lot more than Satan’s chilly asshole to make me drink whiskey.”

“Shit, Yorke,” said Mick, “You ain’t even left your house in a damn week. You’re coming out tonight whether or not you’re still in whiny-bitch mode over Amy or whoever and that stupid fuckin’ whatever happened out there.”

“Aimee. Ah-May. At least get it right if you’re going to be a dick about it. Also we‘re in my yard right this minute.”

“Sorry, Ah-May,” he said, enunciating once again like I was a Chinese Down’s kid.

I sighed some more, didn’t pinch my nose this time. The fact, though, was inescapable, no matter how hard I sighed: I really did have to get out of here for awhile. I was going to go stir crazy soon if I didn’t, and besides, moping forever wouldn’t let me go back. Not that I wanted to.

I steeled myself for the worst resolution of my life, unclenched my teeth, opened my mouth, formed words:

“Fuck it.”

"Fuck it," I said again, resolutely. “Just. Just fuck it, let’s go, I hear Hell’s pretty cold this time of year.”

Mick did that obnoxious frat-boy fist pump thing and I begrudgingly high-fived him, trying to suppress the first smile that had managed to wrestle its way onto my face in months.

[DonSill]

WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER

“What the hell happened out there tonight?” asked Philip Luchetti, the owner of The Brick Wall Comedy Club, “that was brutal.”
“It’s not that I’m bombing because the material’s bad, I’m bombing because these people don’t see me as a comic, and they see me as some character on a TV show.”
“The crowd just doesn’t respect you,” said Philip, “They don’t even feel the need to laugh at you, you know what I’m saying. You go up there and it’s just crickets…fuckin’ crickets. You used to be funny, but now it seems like hell has a better chance of freezing over before you can rock a crowd like you used to.”
“Give it time, Phil, they’ll come to me,” said Patty, “They just have to get re-introduced to me, that’s all.”
“I figured with all the hype from The Bachelorette you’d be a big draw, instead it’s just the opposite.”
“That show is the worst thing that ever happened to my career,” Patty said, “everyone thinks I’m a joke.”
“No they don’t,” said Phillip, “people actually laugh at jokes, Patty.”
“You’re a great motivator, Phil,” Patty said, “One thing is true though, it’s not the material- material is good; material is strong; material is fresh- it’s me, the problem is me. People thing I’m some kind hack, but watch and see, I’ll turn them around, I just need time. They’ll come to me. You just gotta stop billing me as ‘The Winner of The Bachelorette’ that’s killing me.”
“Well, you still have to get out there and sign autographs, Mr. Bachelorette.”
“Are you kidding me? After I just died like that out there, now I have to go sign pictures?”
“That’s the deal,” Phillip said, “now get out there.”

[DonSill]

WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER

“What the hell happened out there tonight?” asked Philip Luchetti, the owner of The Brick Wall Comedy Club, “that was brutal.”

“It’s not that I’m bombing because the material’s bad, I’m bombing because these people don’t see me as a comic, and they see me as some character on a TV show.”

“The crowd just doesn’t respect you,” said Philip, “They don’t even feel the need to laugh at you, you know what I’m saying. You go up there and it’s just crickets…fuckin’ crickets. You used to be funny, but now it seems like hell has a better chance of freezing over before you can rock a crowd like you used to.”

“Give it time, Phil, they’ll come to me,” said Patty, “They just have to get re-introduced to me, that’s all.”

“I figured with all the hype from The Bachelorette you’d be a big draw, instead it’s just the opposite.”

“That show is the worst thing that ever happened to my career,” Patty said, “everyone thinks I’m a joke.”

“No they don’t,” said Phillip, “people actually laugh at jokes, Patty.”

“You’re a great motivator, Phil,” Patty said, “One thing is true though, it’s not the material- material is good; material is strong; material is fresh- it’s me, the problem is me. People thing I’m some kind hack, but watch and see, I’ll turn them around, I just need time. They’ll come to me. You just gotta stop billing me as ‘The Winner of The Bachelorette’ that’s killing me.”

“Well, you still have to get out there and sign autographs, Mr. Bachelorette.”

“Are you kidding me? After I just died like that out there, now I have to go sign pictures?”

“That’s the deal,” Phillip said, “now get out there.”

[MonkBiz85]

When Hell Froze Over

[/b][/u]

It started off just like every other day. I had just finished opening up the shop when she walked in. I shouldn't have been surprised to see her but today she looked exceptionally stunning. Maybe it was the way the color of her low-cut blouse perfectly complimented her ocean blue eyes. Or possibly it was the way her voice wafted melodiously through the air, mixing with the aroma of the freshly-ground coffee beans. Her smile filled the room with her radiant beauty.
 
She walked up to the counter to give her order. It was merely a formality at this point as she always ordered the same thing. A small blended chai tea latte with a little bit of whipped cream and a small sprinkling of cinnamon. I said the words to myself as she gave me the order. I savored every last syllable as they came off of her tongue. I told her it would be my pleasure to make her drink for her.

Today I would ask her. How could she say no? I knew her better than she knew herself. Once I was done blending her drink she would walk over to the table in the corner, pull out her laptop, and read through her e-mails. She would laugh at every single forwarded joke no matter how bad it was. She would often read some of them aloud to me. They were always terrible but I laughed because I loved hearing her laugh in response.

I told her we were having some problems with the blender and that it would take longer than normal to make her drink. I told her it would be best if she took a seat. There really wasn’t anything wrong. I just needed an excuse to walk up to her.

I took my time making her drink, slowly building up the courage to walk over. My heart was racing by the time I made it to her normal table. I handed her the latte and finally built up the nerve to ask her the question I had wanted to ask since I first saw her. “Would you like to go out some time?” I must have fainted at this point because I don’t remember anything after hearing her answer.

I turned to her family, tears in their eyes, and said, “That’s what brings us here today.” They all looked at me expectantly, waiting to hear what I had to say next. They were looking for something specific but unfortunately I had to disappoint them. “With that cold-hearted bitch in hell, I would be surprised if it hasn’t frozen over.” The courtroom erupted in angry cries. The Judge needed to clear the courtroom to keep order, and even then you could still hear wailing from the other side of the door.

The Judge gave his sentence, life. It didn’t really matter to me. She had already taken my life when she said no. I just returned the favor.

[FrankLee]

When Hell Froze Over

Jim glanced at the clock with anticipation. In just a few moments, he would be off work and enjoying a hot cuppa and some laughs with friends. A flash of movement in the window caught his eye for a moment, but before he could answer it came the ring of his desk phone.

"We gotta problem here, boss." It was Al from accounting. Jim hated Al, from the perpetual smile on his face to the condescending way he said 'Boss.'

"What, did someone spend a penny?"

"No, they spent the whole damned farm."

Jim stopped laughing. "What do you mean?"

"I mean our entire account has gone missing."

"What?! Where did it go?"

"Well, Boss. Remember how you hired that new guy? Bernie something."

"Yeah?"

"Well, he's nowhere to be found. So I've got my suspicions."

"Aw damn."

"Boss, this isn't going to reflect well on your--"

Jim hung up and frantically started thumbing through his rolodex, when the phone rang again.

"This is Jim."

"Jim! Did you know all the workers have suddenly gone on strike?"

"We had to cut some corners, Bob."

"Corners? They got no raise, their medical plans went up 50%. Jim, do you have any idea what that translates to for a wage earner, or are you too fucking high up in that tower there?"

"Look, this recession has hit everyone hard, and I've got more important matters right now."

"You've got more important matters than the entire line coming to a screeching halt? The Chief is going to have your head, Jim."

Jim hung up on Bob, because fuck Bob. Jim was a Vice President, and once you made Vee-Pee, you didn't get fired, you just got golden handshakes when you were tired putting up with other's crap.

The phone rang again.

"What?"

"Jim, you'd better call facilities."

"Why?"

"They shut off the heat."

"They what?"

"Something about not paying the bill."

"So we're a few days off--"

"Three months, Jim."

Jim had it. "Tell those motherfuckers to wear a coat and be glad they have a job," he slammed the phone down. Almost as soon as it hit the receiver it began ringing again.

"I swear whoever this is, you're going to regret calling me."

"Jim, this is Lucy."

Jim's blood ran cold. The phone suddenly felt like a thousand ton weight.

"Yes...Ma'am?" Jim stood slowly and turned to face the window. It was fogged over.

"Jim, I've had a number of very disturbing reports recently."

Jim wiped away the condensation and looked out the window. He could scarcely believe his eyes. "Me too, ma'am," he replied, almost dreamlike.

"I'm sorry, Jim, but your services will no longer be needed. I'm sure you don't require an explanation."

"Yes, ma'am..." Tiny little white flakes, floating down outside the window.

"Goodbye, Jim."

The line clicked. Jim sat back down in his chair, looking out the window. He'd single-handedly run Hell into the ground, but for now, he'd just enjoy the view.

[FrankLee]

ASSIGNMENT #6
Subject Matter: Time After Time
Due: Wednesday, 9am, Central Standard Time (or 15:00 GMT)
Min/Max Word Count: 100/200

[VillainousGodot]

Time After Time - about 125 words

Jason stymied a burst of maniacal laughter behind a vaguely menacing smile.  A subtle nihilism coaxed his synapses into inaction and the increasing constriction of the strap around his left bicep matched his salivation.  Jason knew his description by an observational Descartes, unhindered by introspection as was Jason, but he could scarcely bother to play Hamlet.  He raised a fist to the sky in protest, anguish, and lust.  His animalistic fervor surpassed those other thoughts relegated to mute whispers mouthing objections to nothing in particular.  A prick, acknowledged only as process, never as sacrifice, pierced the inside of his elbow with the slight pain of validation.  Jason discarded the physical scraps from his being and absorbed all that which was now within.  One more death and the placidity of oblivion.

[David Eisenstein]

Time After Time

Sure I killed him. I had to do it. He was driving me crazy.
All day long he’d sit in that old, creaky rocking chair staring out the attic window. Ever so slowly he’d rock back and forth making that noise, “CREEAAK, CREEE-EEAAK” over and over, again and again.
But that wasn’t all. The worst part was that song. There was a time I thought it was a nice song, but that was before I heard it endlessly repeated day after day.  If only he’d have played some Bach, or the Beatles, or Beyonce, or anything else instead of Cyndi Lauper.
But that’s all he would play – again and again, over and over, “Time After Time”.

[Spidy]

Time After Time


  Again and Again. All the time these people come wandering onto my property, boys and girls doing the only thing they know how to do right on my land. Right out in that thicket over there. Disgusting, disgusting, dis-gus-ting. I know what they're thinking:
  Ooooh, John, in the woods?
  Hell yeah baby, not like there's anyone out here.
 I mean, Christ, look at my poor thicket, not 20 yards from my home. There's as many used condoms as there is leaves. But I've got a plan for them. Just look at that kid down in the creek bed. Walked right onto a bear trap. Heh, his girlfriend's trying to stop the bleeding. Oh no, girlie I'm not here to help you. What's that? Oh well where did those shotgun pellets in your face come from? Sorry boy, this is my home. Now don't start crying, son. You walked onto my property. In fact, the third couple this month. You brought this on yourself, boy. Dry those tears. Panic just makes it worse. Just a little push with this here blade and... now you seem fine. All fine. Now go clean up, for God's sake.

[sr3116]

Time After Time

"Go on, talk to her."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

'Why not?"

"She's just sitting there minding her own business. People don't like to be bothered by someone they don't know."

"Then tell me smart guy, how in the hell do people meet each other then?"

"Well..."

"Exactly, so please man up and go over there. What have you got to lose?"

"I don't know. She'll probably hate me. I mean, look at me."

"Nonsense. You'll never know if you don't try. After all you're not going over there because you want to ask her out, you just want someone to talk to occasionally here at school.

"I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am. So walk over there."

"I can't."

"Don't do this again, you idiot."

"I'm sorry, I just can't. Don't you feel that tight icy feeling in my chest? I'm terrified."

"You do this every time. They all know your name, you've had multiple classes with many of them. Why do you always fail? They're just people."

"I'm sorry.

"No, I'm the one that's sorry. I wish I could help you."


Once again it was just him and his brain, time after time.

[DonSill]

TIME AFTER TIME

Maxwell struggled for inspiration, he tried to fight through a prozak fog and see the light but all was too hazy, too bleak. His mood was dying and his spirit was comatose. He wasn’t the man he used to be and that too bad because he used to really like himself. But all the years of failure and second guessing and criticism had weighed heavy on him and he thought his only option was death.  Truth was, he was hardly motivated for suicide and perhaps that was a good thing because after three half hearted attempts he was still alive. But, tomorrow was another day.

[skratcher]

Time After Time

10 seconds to go.  The score is tied and he has the basketball on top of the arc. He glances at his left, then to his right as he surveys the defense.

He had done this multiple times already.  Over and over he has seen the crowd erupt when he hits a game winning shot.  They expect him to do it again tonight.

His defender has his hands to his face.  The guy respects him.  He knows his reputation, his killer instinct.  He knows he will not pass.  He knows he is taking the shot.

He dribbles to the right and immediately the defender follows him, sticking to him like glue.  He stops and fakes a dribble to the left and the defender bit. He quickly dribbles to the right again and he was free.  He jumps and shoots.

The defender tries futilely to block the shot but he is too late.  The crowd watches the ball in the air.

Swish.

[Kamikaze Phoenix]

Eternally Recurrent

It was always the same. Desolation closed in like a darkening virus. The clot in my soul. Again.

I would be unable to attend to my purpose until this had passed. It would.

After that would come the aching and the sweat. The careful approach to oblivion. Staring at the wall, waiting for the exhaustion to pass.

Then I would be dead again, and sleep for a while. Disquieting dreams would come, of empty streets, and untrustworthy strangers. Some shift would occur after that, and I would awaken blank again, ready to decide upon my new being.

They were all different, yet ultimately served the same function. Once I was accustomed to myself, I would turn my attention upon the wall. The singular and inviting wall.

I would smash my fists against it for hours. Sometimes there was a hammer there, and if there was, I would use that; drawing it back, and striking over and over and over. It would crack, but never break completely.

I once thought there was more, but I was wrong. There never had been any more to it than this, and there never would be.

I went back to chipping away at the wall.

[FrankLee]

Time After Time

He looked at the trap and sighed. Another one of the poor bastards was caught, long dead by the time Bob had reached this stretch of the farm. After pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and releasing the compression latch, he hefted the body onto the flatbed beside the others. With practiced hands, he re-set the trap while staring grimly at the trail that disappeared off into the endless rows of corn.

As Bob drove to the next trap he briefly wondered what kept attracting them to his field in the first place. He just as quickly gave it up. Doc didn't know, and if he didn't know, no one worth asking would. The traps helped a lot, though, and he hadn't had his crop ruined in nearly a year since he started setting them.

He stopped at the next trap. Sure enough, another one of them was caught in it. This one still had some kick left in it, and glared up at Bob with its enormous jet-black eyes. Bob retrieved the shovel from the truck and said a prayer over the strange gray little man. With one well-practiced thrust, he put it out of its misery.

[FrankLee]

ASSIGNMENT #7
Subject Matter: Aftermath
Due: Friday, 9am, Central Standard Time (or 15:00 GMT)
Min/Max Word Count: 150/200

[WhitePudding]

Aftermath

"So... What now?"

"Well, I'm a little peckish. Breakfast?"

"Oh, really? And what, exactly, is the appropriate foodstuff for this kind of occasion?"

"You've got me there, it's not like this happens every day."

"Bloody good job too."

"What? I always said you needed more excitement in your life. Let it never be said that I was predictable, or uninteresting."

"No. You're certainly neither of those things, I think that crater behind us is testament to that."

"How was I to know it would do that?"

"With your track record..."

"Don't raise that eyebrow at me! You're just as guilty!"

"How do you figure that? Because I didn't intervene in another one of your bonehead schemes I'm equally to blame?"

"Isn't that what you're there for? To make sure I don't tip over from genius into crazy."

"I do have other things to do you know, as difficult as that may be for you to grasp. For someone with your brains, you can be a real fucking airhead sometimes."

"It's all part of my charm."

"Charm! Hah! I can think of a few other words for it."

"Well, your colourful vocabulary notwithstanding, we should probably start again."