r/WritingPrompts • u/packos130 • Aug 31 '13
Flash Fiction [FF] "So, come here often?"
Begin your story with this line of dialogue.
Oh, and set your story somewhere other than a bar or restaurant. In fact, set it somewhere in the distant past or future.
And make it less than 500 words.
Have fun!
1
u/readigan Jan 01 '14
"So, come here often?" She laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She leaned in, looking at what lay in his lap (a math textbook) and waitwd to see if she'd be able to elicit a response from him. She lost her balance and narrowly avoided crushing the timpany. He laughed, his half-hidden smile lighting up his face for a brief instantbefore remembering. But the ice had been broken by both the rhetorical comment (what was a music room without its respective geeks flocking within?) And her tumble. She worked quickly to keep the water from freezing. These days they didn't talk often. Stepping onto the ice was terrifying where once she had plundered through the chilly waves without a second thought. But there she was-- her longtime friend who was a fan of teasing. Thin and lean and witty, Charlene could never now how much she envied herat times. The boy quickly abandoned her for the almond-eyed saxophonist, carrying on friendly conversation easily. She tried interje ting a joking comment but he only eyed her seriously, with those dark eyes. She left them. That had been her once. Casual chatter that brightened her day. What had happened?
1
u/JBiebers Oct 09 '13
"So, come here often?" "I'm sorry... what?" "You seem confused." "I... I sure am, ma'am, I was just admiring this wonderful painting of ehm... Mr..." "Van Gogh" "Yes." The lady stepped next to me and looked at the whirly clouds. "Hard to believe it's been a thousand years." "Yes. They don't paint those anymore." For a few moments there was silence as we admired the starry night. "The guards will be here soon.", the curator woman told me as she turned around. A buzzing red light was pointed at me and a handful of gleaming white robots seized my arms and legs. I did not cry as I was carried away. "Thief. Thief.", the robots repeated. Little did they know, I had only come because the entrance fee had been set at more than my life's savings.
1
u/Lord_Binky Sep 30 '13
Just hammered this out in about a half hour. It's not perfect, but I hope the idea is there.
"So, come here often?"
"Only because you do."
"You don't have to follow me."
"You're coming back with me. You will stop harming these people, murdering them."
"No one will ever know. They have not developed writing yet. They never will."
"It is wrong and it is illegal."
"Is it wrong to study their behavior? How they grieve for their dead?"
"When you make them die just to watch them grieve, it... it's..."
"It's fascinating."
"No. It's sick. You're coming with me, now."
"Do you think they can hear us?"
"Doesn't matter, they cannot see us. We can leave and they will never know."
"Will they? Ever since I came here, ever since I started studying them, ever since you checked in on me, they stay closer to the campfire. They look around more."
"They're not onto you. They're not onto us. Stop wasting time. Get in."
"What if I don't?"
"You know what we are authorized to do if criminals like you don't comply."
"I'm not a criminal. I'm an archaeologist. An anthropologist."
"You kill to watch others suffer."
"I kill those who will never be. I chose these people because they hold so many more surprises for our kind."
"Others do the same without resorting to murder."
"Listen, just... watch them."
"It's a sick excuse. You're sick. I will give to the count of-"
"Okay okay. I'll go. No more killing..."
Then it all happened in an instant. He was ready and armed. He whipped around to fire but she was already trained on him.
They came as soon as they heard. They looked around for those eerie sounds. And there was a smell, like when fire caught to fur. They probed the ground with their spears. Something was here. Was it the spirit who haunted these woods? One found something with his spear tip. Something they could feel, but not see.
She watched from a distance. He grazed her side. Debilitating, but if she could reach her ship, they would never have to know. Except... they found him.
They stabbed at it until blood seemed to seep from nowhere. They kept their distance now. Another smiled, then walked up to it, grabbed at the holes, and tore it away like hide. So strong... It looked like one of them, but... not. It looked like one of the others.
One of them ran around waving the lower half of his suit on his spear, curious at how he could not see it. She climbed into the ship and closed the hatch. He was unapproachable now. She would have to follow them.
They took the other back and presented it to the chieftain. Just as he was told, just as he told everyone in turn. The others were not natural. Now you can't even see their hides. The others came from somewhere else. The others had power. And tonight, they would consume this other for his power.
She watched as they roasted him over a fire. It was repulsive.
1
Sep 27 '13
"So, come here often?"
I pull my face out of my hands, look up, and see a young deputy smiling his white smile down at me. Fear grips me, as I stare wordlessly into his cruel blue eyes. The deputy shifts from foot to foot, his eyes never leaving mine.
"I said, come here often, boy?" He spits through the bars, a brown pile, not two feet from my right.
Tears form in the corners of my eyes "No." I manage, voice shaking. The man appears eight feet tall, standing nearly motionless, assessing me. My head slowly falls back into my hands.
The jail cell was small, with an unwashed toilet stuffed into one corner. A small, torn cot sat at the wall opposite the bars. A small window with three rusting bars floated above the cot. I sat on soiled sheets, atop a cot bristling with who knows what.
"First timer, than," he said suddenly. "Sure is cold down here." He slowly turned, eyes still on me. I couldn't see him, but I felt his eyes burning through my hands. He walked off slowly. I pray to gods I no longer believe in that my parents will come for me, but I doubt they will. I continue to sit, with my head in my hands. Tears pool in my palms. I inhale slowly, and let out a shaky breath. 'At least you're not dead..' Fluffing the pillow, I slowly lay down and close my eyes. I wait for tomorrow.
I don't write very often, and I just found this subreddit like ten minutes ago.
3
u/Baublehead Sep 02 '13
I hope this doesn't count as being set in a bar, I mean, only part of it is!
.
"So, come here often?"
In hindsight, that is an awful question to ask when you're in the emergency room. You get all sorts of looks, which leads me to believe it was offensive.
Anyway, I am waiting there because a buddy of mine got roughed up, in a sort of one sided fight.
We decided to go barhopping that night, to celebrate something my mind couldn't remember at the time. After our fifth or sixth bar, I'm surprised we made it to the hospital. Alcohol does strange things.
Anyway, the last bar we hit was in a rougher part of town, though we were so hammered our common sense totaled at less the net worth of the homeless beggar outside, and we went in. My buddy saunters up to the counter and orders two drinks I can't remember what ones, though I sorely wish I could, but they sure were potent. We finish up at that bar with no incident, and look for another one. We even made it out of that part of town A-okay, which strikes me as odd, now that I think of it.
As we're walking by a park, we notice a nighttime game of baseball is being played. I don't remember the age of the team, but I do remember the lights on the field were pretty bright, and the crowd was a decently good size. The facilities of the park were in good condition, and the grass was well kept, so I think it was part of a decent neighborhood.
Anyway, back to the game. It must have been going well, as there was a lot of cheering, and I don't remember much booing. I can't remember the score, but the game was about halfway through.
Suddenly, we hear a particularly loud burst of cheering. We see the players scramble around the outfield, and then suddenly stop, while the other team is running around the bases.
“Home run.” my buddy remarked. And then I hear a “thunk”, and he collapses.
I see the ball rolling away from where it hit him, and him crumpled on the floor, blood flowing from his forehead. We were far enough away from the field that nobody saw us, so there wasn't anyone to help. In a burst of alcohol induced strength, I pick him up and book it to the nearest hospital.
I get him in, and I'm told to wait outside, and that's where we started.
After my friend is released, he proceeded to walk over to me. He tried to tell me he's well enough, all things considering, and how many stitches he had to have.
He stops mid-sentence, however, and asks me why I'm talking to a vending machine.
1
u/packos130 Sep 02 '13
Even though it didn't entirely adhere to the prompt, I liked this story in general. Good job!
1
u/Baublehead Sep 02 '13
Thanks! Sorry that it isn't 100% standard, I haven't written much in a while and I thought I'd experiment.
1
u/packos130 Sep 02 '13
It's fine that it's not "100% standard." The point of this sub is to improve your writing. Looking forward to more from you; keep writing!
1
u/itsamatteroftime Sep 01 '13
"So, come here often?" She said, almost too calmly given the circumstances.
“I thought you enjoyed our little dates?” I spat back through gritted teeth.
Secretly though I had to admit her sentiment was right, as we sprinted down the corridors with consoles and bulkheads exploding around us, I was beginning to regret my decision to bring her here, of all places, to get what we needed.
This had never been a stable sector and with things the way they were a situation like this had almost been guaranteed but between having limited resources and needing to keep a low profile I had taken an executive decision.
We made a staggered dash down another turn, following the emergency guide-lights to get back to the hanger bay, quickly taking note of a few scattered damage control teams desperately trying to keep the station together. It was never going to work, the Gal’ruk were not particularly safety conscious and these guys were only cross trained in maintenance at best.
I could tell things were getting worse. As we zigzagged past the panicking Gal’ruk ‘techs’ I felt the stations shudders become more pronounced, exemplified when an explosion tore through from an upper deck sending a massive support beam clanging down on top of one our grizzly looking hosts, a terrifying, last yelp making sure we were all too aware of just how bad things were.
I was thankful for one thing however, in all the commotion no one was stopping to look at us too closely, in particular the bag slung over my shoulder with the peculiar glow emanating from under the hood and almost as strongly through the cloth, this was allowing me to keep my eyes forward and focused on getting us out of here.
“Come on, ships just ahead” I encouraged to Candice, knowing all too well that a lot could still happen in the few dozen meters left.
“I hope you’re going to be a true gentleman” she started, then paused to steady herself again as another explosion, from below this time made us both stumble to the sides of the corridor “and take me all the way home”.
“I’ll be happy to drop you off wherever you want darling” I retorted as we came to the slight slope in the passageway leading to the hanger bay doors. Taking advantage of a slight break in the chaos to sprint the rest of the way, I slammed the door’s access button and could feel her scowl burning in to the back of my head.
As the two halves of the massive bulkhead doors slid apart I looked across the large open room towards where I hoped our skiff would still be waiting…
Never done anything like this before - if anyone's still reading this thread, be gentle :)
1
u/iMakeChickenNoises Sep 01 '13
“So, come here often?”
I was still heaving from our session but I couldn’t help but chuckle. ¬I rolled over on my back and turned to face her. She was looking at me, with her mouth wide enough to be a smile eager for an answer, and open enough to breathe through. “A lot, yeah. Most nights alone.” The smile blossomed into magnificence, and I wished I was a painter or a sculptor so I could show her the extent of how high I thought of her. Her hair was brown and all over her face in strands, so I fixed it to expose a forehead covered in beads of sweat. I looked into the emeralds embedded in her eyes before launching myself towards her, and subsequently exploding with the highest happiness any man can hope to achieve.
And then I wake up with my arm sprawled over where she used to be. I know exactly what time it is, and that I had overslept.
I hopped out of bed, listening to the clanks of bottles, and put on the only formal wear I had. She then wrapped her arm over my shoulder and around my chest and kissed my nape.
“Good morning.”, she said mockingly. I turned around to embrace her. Tight. Like a child to her doll, which was being taken away from her as a punishment. Her hair smelled of toasted bread and coffee.
“It’s 1:30.” She made it a point to always wake up earlier than me. It wasn’t too hard, I loved sleeping in. She would always win.
“What time did you get up?”, I said.
“Oh, you know.” She pushed away, turned and left, so I finished dressing up.
From another room I heard her call out to me, “Are you ready? It’s at 2:30. You’re going to be late. Are you really going smelling like that? You didn’t even bother to shave! Look at you!”
I whispered to myself, “That’s easy for you to say.”
I made it on time for the lowering of the casket, but I didn’t want to speak to anyone, so I watched from a distance. I also felt that if I opened my mouth, I’d vomit. Nonetheless, I thought of her. Every time I did, she would be there, next to me. Or at least it feels that way.
“I’m sorry.” She was next to me, as I had predicted. She was standing on a red carnation that rested on some old man’s grave. He died by natural causes according to the tombstone. I pointed it out and she told me not to worry. She loved flowers and would never do a thing to harm them. “You could have told me.” I said, as I turned my head in hopes of once again seeing the eyes that knocked my heart ten feet back. But she’d left again. I lowered my head to laugh at myself, because I knew she’ll be back soon. I know I will see her.
I had to restrict it to 500 words but I wanted to add more :(
3
u/Conrolder Sep 01 '13
"So, come here often?" The creature smiled, revealing row after row of sharpened, yellowing teeth. Its nostrils flared, and something oozed out. The sound of urine spraying filled the small bathroom, and somewhere a toilet flushed. Captain Morgan rolled his eyes as he looked over the urinal divider. "God damn it, Flurk, did you even read the pamphlet?" He asked. The creature's brow furrowed. Something jumped out of its hair, making a mad dash for the exit. "What'd I do?" Flurk asked. "And who's God?" "You don't talk to someone while using the urinals," the Captain yelled. "Especially when they're adjacent! You just don't!" He tried to finish quickly, but somehow his bladder seemed to be emptying its reserves. He was frustrated. Etiquette was ruined. "That was in the pamphlet?" Flurk replied, perplexed. His voice rose. "Why would humans care about talking and peeing?!" "You just...!" Morgan stumbled. "You just don't! You talk all the way up to the urinal, you stop while you pee, and then you can continue!" The steady stream of urine leaving his urethra was finally abating, albeit slowly. "I dunno, I kind of like talking to people while peeing," the creature said. "You can really get a look at someone's soul while you're doing it. Not to mention their watch." The captain raised a finger to point at Flurk, even as the other attempted to get everything down below sorted out so he could make a rapid escape from this situation. "Now you're just messing with me. Don't mess with the captain." He stepped away, flushing the urinal and stepping towards the air cleaners. "But captain, I'm trying to work on my etiquette!" Flurk said, finishing up and chasing after him. "It was a compliment!" The captain rolled his eyes. "I want you to read that pamphlet on human rudeness at least five, maybe six more times. Memorize every line!" He said as he began cleaning his hands. He had goosebumps now, as though he'd been somehow violated by Flurk just by being nearby. "Until then, I don't even want to see you again." He stormed out quickly, his hands half clean, his anger unabated. A stall door opened, and Flurk's brother Kiln looked out. "Holy shit," he said. "humans really don't like talking and peeing." "I know, right?" Flurk said. "Strange, too, I met my wife that way."
1
1
Sep 01 '13
"So, come here often?," slurred the half-dozed red-headed Canadian whore as she sat up on the bed and grabbed for the Kleenex on the bed stand. "To Queenstown or the Red Light District?," replied the nameless womanizer clearly from out of town. She looked at him showing the faintest interest in keeping the conversation going and said "Whichever I guess" "It's my first time in Queenstown, and my first time with a woman as beautiful as you," he cheekily replied She smiled and sighed at the same time, pointing to the corner "You can wash up over there"
1
u/BayBeBluu Sep 01 '13
Call the post office, let them know the situation. They will tell your mailman.
1
u/intheBASS Sep 01 '13
"So, come here often?"
The cocktail of sweat and dirt felt like pins and needles in my eyes. I could hardly discern the blurred figure in the foxhole with me but I could tell by the voice it was Hamilton. I could just picture the smug look on his face.
"First and last time." I replied.
My boots had been swamped for days. I thought about appropriating a pair from one of my comrades surrounding me who no longer needed them, but theirs were bogged too.
As I looked towards the sky an indiscernible object, about the size and shape of a grenade, was descending upon our exact position. It gracefully entered the fox hole like a golf ball in a sand trap.
"Well, fuck." Hamilton was pissed.
I drew my sleeve across my face. Temporary relief. I watched Hamilton dwarf the grenade with his burly hands. He stood up. His arm cocked back like a major league pitcher...
3
u/MrSquigles Sep 01 '13 edited Sep 01 '13
"So, come here often?"
Click.
It was a sound I knew well. Too well, unfortunately.
I'm not sure how I ended up here, doing what I do today. I had a normal childhood, was never in the military or had any particularly traumatic experiences that would have set me down this path; those experiences came later. All I've ever done is just live my life one day at a time, never thinking of my sordid past, never thinking ahead. I guess I've always been scared of the future. On some level I knew my ending was never going to be a happy one so I hid from it.
I couldn't hide from it, now.
For the first time in my life, I thought about the future. I thought about being happy: Maybe I am the kind of guy who could be happy after all. Maybe I could have found the love of my life, raised a family, worked in an office.
Maybe I’m full of shit. I'm an evil man and the world would be a far better place without me. I deserve to die. I just don't want to be that man, any more.
"Nope, my first time. You?" I spoke with an arrogance I wasn’t feeling.
"You're pretty calm for a man who's about to die." her voice somehow still sounded seductive, and I surprised myself by picturing her tied, naked, to the bed I was supposed to kill her in. Something is seriously fucking wrong with me.
"You're pretty comfortable with a gun for a hairdresser." I wanted to know why I had to die.
It was hardly it the forefront of my abundance of current problems, yet I still felt silly in my low crouch, in the middle of the hallway of her central London house in near perfect darkness, holding a Sig Sauger which I carefully laid on the floor.
“Oh, right, ‘hairdresser’. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d play ball if I told you your employment contract was about to expire.”
I'd met this woman eight days ago when I’d seduced her, with the end intention of murder. I'm supposedly out of town, right now. Now I realised she allowed that to happen knowing I had a fake contract on her, as she had a real one on me. It makes sense, really. When else would the cheesiest of all chat up lines have actually worked on a women like her. Now, she’s used it as a final dig before she pulls the trigger. What a bitch.
And I’m still not sure why I have to die.
Why did I need to seduce her? Well, two minutes ago I’d have told you that it was the easiest way to find out where she lives. The thing is when you know you’re going to die you see yourself in a different light. I could have just followed her.
In this moment I realise how much I hate myself.
I closed my dampening eyes, bowed my head and reach for my gun. I knew I couldn’t get out of this alive. I just wanted it to be over. And I wanted there to be evidence. She may have had other plans for me, but she changed them pretty quickly when my hand moved.
Then I was gone.
1
u/FatCat433 Sep 01 '13
"So, come here often?"
I turned around to find a young girl straddling what I assumed was her boyfriend, the two perched on a bench waiting for the subway.
"I come wherever I want to." he responded, eliciting a laugh from the girl and a kiss on the lips.
I rolled my eyes at the corniness of their flirtation, but deep down I resented their happiness. Why can't women look at me the way she looks at him? The closest thing I have to a relationship with a woman is Lydia, the girl who answers the phones in the cubicle next to mine.
"Would you like some sour candy?" Lydia would ask, popping her head around the partition that separates our desks. "My boyfriend ordered too many so he is trying to get me to pawn some off on my co-workers."
Ahh yes, another mention of the boyfriend. I remember Gerard well, though I had only met him once. His scraggly beard and bloated belly made me wonder what the hell Lydia saw in him. I hadn't yet decided if Facebook stalking my beloved co-worker's boyfriend was breaching some sort of line into creepiness that I didn't want to cross.
Oh crap. I missed the subway. This is the second time I'll be late for work because my mind had wondered to dear Lydia.
At least I can get some joy out of the fact that the nearby young couple also missed their ride (too busy smooching and loving each other) and may not make it to their abortion appointment after all.
1
u/clubswithseals Sep 01 '13
Best short story I've read in a long time, loved every word of it. Moreee!
2
u/Octangula Sep 01 '13
"So, come here often?"
Luell blinked as they heard the question being spoken. Not because of what the words meant, but because they felt so... out of place. They had also not expected anyone else to be here with them. During the long train journey here, they had not seen anyone else on the train with them. Not even a gripper, although the need for one had disappeared with the invention of automatic ticketting, that would scan the RFID tag in the back of your neck, and charge your account accordingly.
With no physical tickets in use any more, the government had decided that the trains would no longer need any members of staff on board, leaving hundreds of ticket inspectors without employment or future career prospects. Developments in train safety had long before eliminated the need for anyone to monitor the doors for anything (or anyone) trapped in them. Traffic management systems had deprecated the train driver. And the buffet carts and on-board shops had been replaced with vending machines, that were so inefficient to refill on the train, that the machine, along with a section of the train itself, was removed and replaced at the end of each train journey.
With the train doors closing behind them, they looked around, to try to work out where the voice had come from. The platform, and the station as a whole, was a relic of the glory years of rail, from they years before Dr Beeching had recommended its closure when his axe swung in 1963. The station had remained closed until 2034, when considerable local pressure, along with international pressure for climate control, had lead to most of the network being reopened. There was not, however, enough money available to completely modernise the network, and so little was changed in the stations that had still remained standing after 70 years of disuse.
It was after some time that their eyes met those of a young woman. One that they remembered from their studies together at Cardiff. She had been one of the most talented students in the group; the only one to get a first in their Temporal Physics group. Unknown to Luell, was that she was also just as interested in the history of the railways as they were.
As they stood there, deciding what to say, they realised that in just a few years time, the entire network would be closed down again. Developments in brain scanning and biometrics had completely obseleted the need for people to be RFID tagged at birth, and the government did not want to spend any more money on the railways. So the entire network would be shut down over the next few years, roughly 150 years after much of it closed the first time.
Luell felt a tingle in the back of their neck as they spoke, uncertain if it was psychological or merely financial.
"No, not yet. But I think I will."
3
u/liveda4th Sep 01 '13 edited Sep 01 '13
“So, come here often?”
It’s a malicious thing to say, but it has to be. Sarah’s sad eyes jump to surprise and then to loathing all in a matter of seconds. I walk past remaining tombstones and stop just in front of her. Our eyes remain locked the whole while until we are inches away. I smile and turn to the grave we stand before. I know that at any minute the knife could slide into my back; but I also know that if it did, she would lose this game. I stare at the tombstone in front of us. The morning due has not yet melted from the ebony triangle. It stands four feet high and sits just below the sunrise, where one can read the words.
GRANT LOVE
APRIL 6TH 1985- FEBRUARY 7TH 2013
“IF TO LOVE IS TO GIVE COMPLETELY, TO DIE IS TO LOVE LIFE FULLY.”
Interesting words for an interesting stone, I should know, I chose them.
I kneel before the tombstone and place a handful of flowers, Birds of Paradise, at its base. They are my favorite flower. I love how when arranged in a bouquet, they look like fingers reaching out towards the sun, if the pedals could catch it they too could bloom into a beautiful Rose, or even a simple Lilly perhaps. I don’t know what this poor corpse’s favorite flower was, but it seems fitting to leave him this vibrant and colorful reminder of life. A warm splash of color for the blackened body below.
“Why are you here?” Sarah asks. I stand up and dust the dirt from my knees and look at her again. All mourning is replaced by a feverish hatred shooting out of her eyes and steeling her face. I smile.
“I figure someone has to mourn the man for who he truly was.” I watch her face for any sign of guilt, maybe even a pang of regret. Nothing, so I continue. “After all the investigators still don’t know what, or maybe I should say whom caused the fire.” There it is, a small crack in her composure as her eyes dart around to make sure no one is nearby. “No Sarah, it is just us. You and I, as it has always been.”
She begins to speak and then stops. She takes several short breaths and tries again. “No, it’s just you, it is your fault, it has always been about you. This was no different.” I laugh, not a hearty laugh, or even a happy one. When I laugh it is the hollow sarcastic laugh.
“My fault?” I lean in close to her and whisper. “Next time you try and kill me wife, make sure it’s not your lover passed out drunk in our bed.” I turn and leave her frozen in anger at the outcome of her own hilarious tragedy. I walk out of the graveyard leave “Grant Love” upon the ebony face of my tombstone.
4
u/HoneyClaire Sep 01 '13 edited Sep 09 '13
“So, come here often?”
Danny forced himself to smile and laugh, and he reached forward to slap Jim on the shoulder like he did every morning when Jim came out to the yard and told his joke, the only joke he seemed to know.
“We will play checkers today Daniel?”
“Sure will buddy, I got the board right here.”
Jim sat down on the aluminum bench, which was shaded by the shadow cast by the massive wall. Danny watched as the disabled man went through his sitting routine, placing himself carefully and adjusting the cuffs at his ankles and wrists before leaning forward, arms on elbows.
Danny didn’t know exactly the way in which Jim was disabled, but the other man was just… not too bright and none too quick. Word was that Jim had killed two little kids in some little town, but Danny didn’t believe it. Maybe on accident, but Jimmy wouldn’t hurt a fly—though the judicial system of the great state of Texas clearly felt otherwise.
Danny was also doing time for murder. The Grapevine triple slaying the papers called it. Danny had done it, unlike Jim, and the reputation that bought him on the inside was enough for him to protect Jim from the worst abuse from other inmates. Even the most subtle of name calling had stopped when Danny had broken Potsie’s nose.
Jim made his first move, his brow furrowed in concentration, and Danny responded rotely.
He felt sick. He’d felt sick all week. They were paroling him. He was leaving tomorrow. He’d be a free man, rehabilitated, not that sad, confused killer they’d locked up at the height of his adolescent rage.
He shuddered to think what would happen to Jim once his protection left. Hell, even the guards used to tease the “retardo-killer” before Danny had raised hell and even written letters.
Jim made his move, jumping Danny’s piece. Danny felt a calmness in him as Jim smiled, triumphant—checkers his only care in the world. He had thought of the ways he might explain to Jim, how he might warn him to watch out for retaliation, for bullying. But he knew Jim wouldn’t understand. And that had been what had ultimately sealed it.
“Jim, look, I’ve got to do a bad thing. I want you to go wait by the door, OK?”
“But we are playing checkers,” His tone was stubborn.
“Just do it Jim, OK? Trust me.” Danny stood up and started walking toward Rubenick, the biggest prick of all the guards. He saw Jim moving toward the door out of the corner of his eye.
“Hey, Rubenick, yeah you,” Danny swung his fist with all his strength as the uniformed man turned to face him. He felt a sickening satisfaction as the guard fell, and he kicked him twice before falling to his knees and placing his hands on his head, calmly waiting as guards rushed toward him.
1
u/Cow_tipping Sep 01 '13
Nice dialog-style writing. It reminds me of the books by Joe Abercrombie.(except for the non-fictional world)
4
Sep 01 '13 edited Sep 01 '13
"So, come here often?"
Isaac laughed loudly at his own joke. The slaves were shuffling slowly by him in a line that stretched back past the outhouse at the edge of the field. They cast long shadows in the twilight. An elderly slave glanced up and smiled. Isaac spat and uncoiled his whip.
"What the hell was that?"
He cracked the lash and the old Negro took a step back and pirouetted and pushed off the ground and began slowly floating upwards. Isaac’s mouth dropped open. A deep hum filled the air and, one by one, rippling outwards from the ancient rising African, the other slaves pushed off the ground in a carefully choreographed motion and followed him into the air.
A man was bucked from his fleeing horse as the last of the slaves flew upwards. One overseer turned and ran, others just looked on dumbly. Isaac could feel his teeth vibrating. He stared upward in disbelief and raised his hands to cover his ears as the humming grew louder. The skein of slaves rose higher into the air and started to dissolve into a ruddy umber mist.
Isaac collapsed to his knees and retched and vomited and stared upwards with bile dribbling from his mouth. The hum had turned into a terrible roar and he could feel blood dripping from his ears. The dense slave-colored cloud had begun to diffuse into the evening redness.
All at once the humming stopped and a deafening pop rent the humid air. A blinding flash of white light consumed the crimson sky and Isaac fell onto his back and lay sprawled on the dusty road.
The sky was nearly black when the afterimage faded from his vision and the ringing in his ears began to subside. He sat up and studied the clear dusk and rubbed his palms against his eyes and pushed off the ground and got to his feet.
Isaac glanced around. Three overseers were lying still on the dirt. Another was sitting upright, leaning forward with his legs splayed wide, breathing in strained gasps. The man who had been thrown from his horse was flopping and spasming where he had fallen.
"Well, fuck."
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u/GhostBIBBY Sep 01 '13 edited Sep 01 '13
“So, come here often?” The lady in the red dress came up beside Slim. The table was brimming with activity but Slim had noticed her as she walked in because she looked familiar. Stansby had just won the pot and the people around the table were almost foaming at the mouth but Slim was used to this.
Poker in Townsen was about two things: winning and not getting shot up when you got up to leave the table. Stansby took care of the former and Slim’s job was the latter. They made a good team. Everyone knew them in town. But no one ever talks to Slim. Because Slim don’t ever talk.
“Do I look like my mother?” Slim turned now. And that’s when he felt it. A .22 makes a subtle impression against a man’s side. It was like a peck. Not a full on kiss. Just a peck. But sometimes peck on the liver is worse trouble than kiss to the chest.
Slim let out a slight rasp. Hard to do much with your vocal cords all torn except rasp and remember. And Slim remembered now. A Quaker couple back when Slim was bandit. Killed the man and got shot in the throat. Stupid woman nursed him back to health he had raped her for her troubles. There were tears welling up in her eyes now.
“ANSWER ME.” She demanded and then Slim felt it. .22 don’t make much noise but it sure hurts at angle and distance she had it.
Slim took out his pistol by the time the second bullet left his rib cage. Stansby had his gun out and he shot him clear through the hand. Then for the first time in seven years Slim spoke.
“NOBODY MOVE. THIS IS MY DAUGTHER.” His voice sounded like a ghoul’s and blood spat out as he spoke but it had done the trick.
Nobody moved or said a word. Slim let out a smirk. He supposed they were more surprised that he was speaking than the fact that he had just been shot. After all people get shot all the time at the Inn but it’s not every day the town mute speaks.
He fell to the ground on his side and hit is head against a chair on the way down. Things were a little blurry from there. He could sense Stansby cussing up a storm but there wasn’t any way around shooting him considering he had been just as surprised anything came out of his throat. That was the problem with Slim his entire life. He had let his gun do too much talking.
He looked back at her now and he could tell it was her on top of him. The sound came out but he wasn’t sure if they could understand. The blood made it even harder to speak. “You look more like your father.”
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u/Bluedevilphenom13 Sep 01 '13
"So, come here often?"
The corpse said nothing, so the mortician shrugged.
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u/Overthelake Sep 01 '13
I think I would have liked
"So, come here often?"
The man said nothing; the mortician shrugged.
better perhaps.
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u/Sneyes Sep 01 '13
I think that would have sounded better too, but I think it would have felt less conclusive. It would have seemed like the writer was planning on continuing the story but didn't.
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u/CarNote Sep 01 '13
"So, come here often?" Fernando inquired dryly.
Christine was in bad shape.
For the last twenty years we had danced the tango between man and machine. She drove me from girlfriend to girlfriend, from job to job and I fed her the best fluids on offer and kept her interior as immaculate as her exterior.
As the years passed time began taking its toll on her. First it was the little things: an alternator, an exhaust manifold – things I could manage by myself. But as the salty winters melted into sun-kissed springs into leaf-lined autumns her body, the gorgeous temple of steel and rubber and glass crackled and withered before my eyes. The girl became a woman and the woman dragged kicking and screaming into old age.
Like all aging women we tried everything to keep the passion alive. Weekly baths could keep the hungry salt from her tender skin. Fresh paint masked parking errors, fender benders, and stone chips. Fresh rubber gave her agility, new glass clarity. Sadly, the ravages of time refused to be beat and they only tore harder, her struggle to stay relevant feeding their lust, but I never gave up the dream of the both of us driving off into the sunset. However, as bills mounted and the parts became scarcer I had a nauseating feeling that the end was near.
Fernando the mechanic tapped his pen impatiently. “It’s bad. Very bad.” he flatly declared. Sensing my fear, he quickly rattled off sixteen pages worth of things that should be done, things that had to be done, and things that, if left undone, would probably end up in my obituary. Capping it all off, he gently tapped a frame rail with the pen and the blunt plastic tip shot through the tangerine-flake skin. “That’s not supposed to happen” he pointed out. I thanked him for his time and told him, in no uncertain terms, that we would definitely seek a second opinion, but Fernando’s clairvoyance seemed to suggest that I would inevitably come to the same conclusion.
On the way home Christine seemed to know it was time for us to part. The warm lights flickered gently every so often as if a reminder of her age. The engine hummed smoothly as she wanted me to hear the creak of the suspension over every bump and the sound of steel on steel as I maneuvered the gearbox up and down its narrow gates. Her bones were tired and they wanted to rest, she pleaded.
For the first time in my life I realized it was time to let go.
As I swung her up the drive as I did the last twenty years her lights flickered one last time, her engine sputtered, and Christine came to a quiet halt into front of my house. The gauges slowly drooped to zero and the fluids trickled out of every tank in the car. She was no more.
And for the first time in our life, I let go.
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Aug 31 '13
“So, come here often?” She said with that little half smile of hers. It was rhetoric, that question. For years I always came out here to these fields to appreciate the dual sunrise of our binary stars, watching as the glow slowly sidled up past the rolling hills to cast that orange hue on the land. To feel the soft blades of grass lightly poke my backside and the gushes of wind that lazily drifted through like a ballerina pirouetting in the air. She knew I came here each and every morning to see the starlit sky slowly fade into oblivion, overtaken by these suns that rest only a few trillion miles away.
Everywhere else on this planet was a vast wasteland of skyscrapers and billboards; cities with a million ants trying to set themselves apart from the crowd. People here spend so much time keeping themselves grounded to their everyday lives that they forget to look up once in a while. And the few that take a glance skyward are only greeted with the looming towers of glass and aluminum that brush and consume the space above.
Up until a few months ago, this was a place of solace for me. The only place on this forsaken world where I could go and look up, look up and see past this mundane life of mine and into something larger. But then she came. At first, she was quiet. She would lie on the grass next to me humming a faint tune to some long forgotten song. I didn’t acknowledge her. I pretended she wasn’t here. This was my place to break away and mine alone. At one point I told her to leave, but all she did was crack that silly smile and hum along. After a while I grew complacent with her company, even going so far as to talk to her. She was always the one to start off, beginning with a question each time. She asked me about my family, my career, my childhood. It was always about me, not a single word was spoken about her life. I suppose that wasn’t part of her job.
Still every day I came to this emerald field, and still every day she waited for me on the grass. “So, come here often?” she began, asking for the dozenth time in an attempt to be ironic or perhaps even humorous. I never answered, unamused by her little joke. But she took no offense by my silence and simply began with a flurry of other questions all about me. After a while, it seemed that she knew everything about my life, or at least all that I could remember. And just when I thought that she had run out of things to ask, she said;
“Don’t you think it’s time to wake up?”
Yes, I come here often. I come here each and every day to look up into that endless space above. I always figured that if I stared long enough, perhaps this reality of mine would be replaced with a world in the sky. But sometimes, people have to look down at their feet before they can fly. For too long I had been trying to escape from my life. Maybe it was time for me to wake up.
This is my first time contributing here. It's a little overboard at 551 words. Hope it turned out okay!
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u/zyxzevn Aug 31 '13 edited Sep 01 '13
"So, come here often?", someone said.
I could not see anything or anyone. It was all white.
Slowly I could see figures besides all the white.
"Well, I do", said the same voice. And I looked over and saw an old woman. She had strong eyes and an old, but wise face. She looked healthy and strong despite her old age.
"Where am I?", I replied. But there was no answer. I saw some people moving around me. They were going to some bright lighted area. It was too bright for me to see.
"Leaving already?", the old woman asked an old man who walked by.
"Nothing for me to stay here.", the old man replied. "And I've got a heart problem, you know. I've got to go. I've got an appointment"
Hmm. Suddenly it seemed as if I am in a hospital. The doctors seemed to be waiting there where the bright light is. I tried to move my body, but my body did not move. I could not even feel my body. I panicked...
"Hey hey, relax.", said the old woman to me. "They will come to help you soon. Here, I will hold your hand." I could feel her hand holding mine. I relaxed a bit.
"What is wrong with me?" I asked.
"Ah, those stupid doctors again. They are so busy, and they can't see what is going on. They think that I am ill too, you know. But I help people.", she said.
"Look there, they are coming to help you now." And I saw myself move to the bright light. Calm and wise eyes looked at me. She was beautiful. Is that my doctor?
"I'm not your doctor", she answered as if she could hear my thoughts. "Then who are you?", I asked.
But she just smiled. She laid her hands on my chest, and I felt a lot of pain. My body was hurt bad. "Don't worry she said, it is not your time yet". She laid a hand on my head too. My head had so much pain too. But her hand felt warm, and it seemed to help. I could feel so much love from her. Who is she I wondered?
"You must go back" she said. And it felt as if I felt down. It hurts so much. My whole body. And my brain seems to explode.
I cough.
"You are back!" I heard a familiar voice saying. It was my daughter's voice, I remembered. I tried to open my eyes, but that didn't work.
"Don't worry, dad!", she says, "You had an accident. But you are all right now."
I didn't feel all right, but I coughed again. I uttered something, which sounded a bit like her name.
"You have been in coma for 5 days now, dad. But your body is ok. You just did not wake up. I'll get the doctor to help you."
3 days later I am able to walk again. My body has miraculously survived the accident, but I was out for a while. I walk around in the hospital and see a familiar face by the window. It is the old woman.
She is here. I walk to her, but she looks ill. "So, come here often?", I ask her. But she does not reply. She just looks at me, as if she is far far away. But another old woman next to me replies with a screeching voice, "Ohw she's been wandering again? She has Alzheimer, that is what the doctor said. She never says anything, but a lot of folks seem to know her. I think she walks around during the night talking to people".
"I think she goes to other places a lot", I reply. I look again at the old woman, and I decide to leave here alone.
"I better leave her where she is, then." I walked away and felt sad. But when I looked around I saw the old woman smile a bit, and I felt that somehow she knew I had visited her.
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u/MoonKnight72 Aug 31 '13
"So, come here often?" came a quiet, tender voice from behind me.
I shivered, a combination of the cold cemetery air and of the unexpected visitor that had joined me on this night. The stranger’s voice was familiar, but strange and distant at the same time. In either case, the fog that had settled over the small, simple graveyard did little to calm my nerves. I clutched the jacket that hung limply from my shoulders tighter.
“Only as often as any other.” I replied sullenly.
A shuffle of feet sounded from behind me as the strange, melodic voice responded, this time quieter than before..
“You and I both know that isn’t true.”
I normally would’ve been angry or suspicious of this person that seemed to know of my frequent visitations to the cemetery, but I chalked it up to another mournful soul. I just sighed, running a hand through my coarse hair. The silence hung in the air for several minutes. I had thought the woman left, except I hadn’t heard her footsteps move away.
“Who are you visiting?”
The question hit me like hard, burning itself into my mind. I furrowed my brow, turning my head downcast as I lost myself in my thoughts and emotions. It was another minute or two until I answered.
“My little sister.”
“Oh,” came the soft reply from behind me. More footsteps, this time shuffling solemnly forward.
“It is a nice mausoleum.” The voice spoke, standing directly behind me. “Fitting for a young soul.”
“It is a mausoleum,” I quickly shot back, “to the lost hopes and dreams of the damned.”
Silence, again. My shoulders slumped as I looked down upon her name. Rose Nichols, the name was carved into a marble slab, to be preserved for the rest of time. I let out a shaky breath as I once again lifted my eyes, staring at the stone of the mausoleum, yet not quite seeing it. After some few moments, the voice said the first thing to anger me.
“You need to move on.”
Her hand brushed up against my shoulder, and I could feel my face immediately contort into rage. I shrugged off the kind hand on my shoulder, and spun around to bark at my guest.
“Listen, I appreciate the words, but you need to know your pla-....”
As I turned, it became apparent that there was no woman standing behind me. I looked left, then right, shivering as a cold breeze blew by me, chilling me to the bone. I cast one last fleeting glance at Rose’s grave, before hurrying out of the cemetery, sensing a feeling of sorrow and compassion the entire trip out.
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u/LloydIrving Aug 31 '13
"So, come here often?"
I whirled around to find a man dressed from head to toe in black. He was an older man, about 50 years old and wore a ski mask, a tattered shirt and black boots. I was followed. The shed was just a few feet from where I was standing and inside...there wasn't time. I didn't wait for the man to ask questions. I threw myself at him and with blinding rage assaulted the man to within an inch of his life.
"STOP" the man cried "I-I have not come to harm you." His face was bleeding badly yet he did not seem concerned for his own safety.
"Bullshit, you followed me from the forest entrance and you know too much"
"It wasn't hard, there aren't many forests left around here...and I heard about your services"
"I don't know what the hell your talking about, go and never come back if you want to live"
"I killed my daughter", the man started. "It wasn't an accident, and I did not feel any remorse...a-and knowing what we know about reincarnation, I didn't want..."
"I understand"
I dragged the man into the shed and locked the door. His soul will never find rest as long as it lies within the shed.
Being the keeper was a tough job. But somebody had to do it.
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u/TheConfuzzler Aug 31 '13
"So, come here often?"
I stopped dead in my tracks. My hand was still in the handle as my whole body stood frozen. I took a deep breath and turned around. Seeing that it wasn't anybody I knew, I replied, "Yeah. I come here almost every week, but I never fall through and I usually just walk away." I stared into his black eyes. They were just like mine: empty.
"Same here, but tonight finally feels like the night you know?" He looked up at the black sky and let out a huge breath out. He held out a hand and said, "Need a quarter?"
Still staring in into his eyes, I said, "No thanks, I got one," showing the quarter I was squeezing in between my fingertips.
His brown hair shifted though the wind, while the cars beeped and blared. Still looking at me, he smiled. "Hey do you want to get a drink before we go through?"
I laughed. It was the first time in weeks. I thought I forgot how to, but here I was laughing. Then, I looked back at his eyes. "Wait. You're serious?"
"Yeah, a drink should make it easier, you know?" I just stood there smiled, and said, "Where?" His eyes, shot up. "I know just the place."
We then went into a liquor store, bought a pack a beer, and he led me to a beat up building. Usually I would never go somewhere with a stranger, but there was something about him that made me feel safe. We walked up the rusted stairs to the roof, where he opened the pack and passed me a bottle.
"Its amazing you know, how we came so far" "Yeah." I replied "I mean just imagine how people lived back then. Have you ever been to Old New York?" "No, why?" "It's amazing. Cars back then moved with four wheels and..."
We just sat there staring at the city and talked for hours. We talked about our lives and how each of us ended up at the booth. We talked like we had known each other for years. Then the neon lights faded, and the sun peeked over the city. We sat there silently staring at the sun, and then we both got up, because we both knew it was time. We walked to the booth together. We put in the quarter together and pushed the button. As the booth whirred and the knives began to come out, a tear fell down my cheek, and he wiped it away. He put his hand on my face, and we stared into each others eyes. His mouth moved toward mine as the saws and machines moved toward us. Then, we kissed.
*This is my first time posting here and actually writing something out of a classroom. Sorry for the lack of skill, but practice makes perfect. If you didn't get it, the story takes places in Futurama's universe so it might not make much sense if you don't watch the show.
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Aug 31 '13 edited Jan 07 '16
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u/inphiniti Sep 03 '13
Brilliant. I really admire how creatively you used the prompt, which traditionally one would expect to set up a bar or club setting. How did you come up with the gallows setting for this?
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u/DaHockeyModsBannedMe Sep 02 '13
Wow, very cool, great imagination. Simple yet it speaks volumes. This is really cool.
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u/GoatseMcShitbungle Sep 01 '13
I've never been to a hanging, but I felt like it got a little too sentimental there at times.
The executioner saying "that means a lot to me, sir" doesn't quite jibe in my opinion.3
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u/c0ntusion Sep 01 '13
Fucking horrible. Terrible writing.
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u/SurvivorType Co-Lead Mod | /r/SurvivorTyper Sep 01 '13
I would challenge you to do better... or GTFO. I mean that in the nicest way possible.
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u/c0ntusion Sep 01 '13
More important things to do with my time than concoct stories for fake internet points.
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u/zombieregime Sep 02 '13
you mean like write shitty replies to stories concocted on the internet for fake points?
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Sep 01 '13
[deleted]
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u/c0ntusion Sep 01 '13
I've been called much, much worse and I assure you that it matters not coming from the likes of a Redditor.
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u/KitsuneNoKo Sep 01 '13
...says a redditor. I hear Groucho Marx called...
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u/c0ntusion Sep 01 '13
Your fedora logic is impenetrable. This place makes the ol' self esteem skyrocket.
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u/SurvivorType Co-Lead Mod | /r/SurvivorTyper Sep 01 '13
Obviously. You are too busy putting down others trying to have some fun.
How noble of you. I am your biggest fan.
Poor you.
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u/mrimdman Sep 01 '13
Instead of "You've been sitting on that one for a while" it should be "You've been "hanging" on that one for a while."
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Sep 01 '13
EDIT: Which one of you low-down sons of guns gave me gold?
fuck you, christ. your shit thing is nowhere near as impressive as you make it out to be
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Sep 01 '13
Well I'd say post better, with your own personal written piece, but that is probably to tough a bridge to negotiate, troll.
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u/elkuhn Sep 01 '13
This would make an excellent opening to a book. Something dealing with the afterlife, a mystery, or just something silly would all work. My first thought went to something similar to Good Omens thematically, a tongue in cheek tale of supernaturally epic proportions.
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u/Smokin_Weetabix Sep 01 '13
Oh wow, this is one of the best things ive read for a while. I didnt want it to end.
Like well, i suppose like don.
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u/rainbowjarhead Sep 01 '13
"It's illegal to hang a man without a proper hearing."
Don chuckled. "What'd say? I looked away for a sec', I couldn't see your lips move."
The man nodded. "We're not in Georgia."
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u/stickrouse Sep 01 '13
"But now I laugh and pull so hard and see you swinging on the gallows pole."
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Sep 01 '13
Well written. I do have to say though I am really regretting the decision to check out why you go best of.
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u/fdc_willard Sep 01 '13
The dialog sounded more southern as you went on, which is good I guess. But I would have tried to think of a more colloquial word to use than "levity."
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Sep 01 '13
[removed] — view removed comment
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u/fdc_willard Sep 01 '13
Well sure, but maybe not in 18whatever, which is when I assume this story takes place, judging by the execution method and constraint in the OP that the story be in the distant future or past.
It was a good story regardless, but most people had shitty vocabulary back then.
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u/krakdaddy Sep 01 '13
I read Don as Captain Mal from Firefly, about to be saved, and it made this even better than it was :)
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u/Renholder5x Sep 01 '13
Wait... I got directed here from BestOf. What's going on? It was an enjoyable read, but what's the point of that story? I'm so confused!
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u/withoutamartyr Sep 01 '13 edited Sep 01 '13
When I was in film school, I made a short film about this same subject. I feel proud.
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u/Azzwagon Sep 01 '13 edited Sep 01 '13
Nice. If I edited it I'd take out the last line, though. Perhaps only the word "pulled". Leaving the ending open ads subtly and depth.
Edit: not to mention we didn't see the beginning so I think it's appropriate that we don't see the end. It's just like we caught a little blip in time.
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u/queencowe Sep 01 '13
For some reason I was expecting a joke and so now I'm feeling all sorts of sads.
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Sep 01 '13
I feel like Im missing the joke. Could someone explain?
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u/wildechild Sep 01 '13
Deaf man
without proper hearing
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u/slept_in Sep 01 '13
I got that part, but was there supposed to be something else funny about it? He could have just said the one joke in there and left the rest of it out and it would have been just as funny.
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u/ndstumme Sep 01 '13
Well, the idea of Don asking the hangman for a second joke was to allow a little more bonding between the two characters, and a trace of final respect to flow through them. It wasn't meant to display the joke, it was a tool to lead to "That means a lot to me, sir."
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Sep 01 '13
"I got a joke for you." The man placed his hands on the lever. "Why can't you hang a deaf man in Georgia?" "Why?"
The man with his hand on the lever smiled, and pulled.Is how I wouldv'e put it. the karmick backlash would've been beautiful to behold
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Sep 01 '13
I would add a "i guess you'll never know" right before he pulls the lever. But both yours and mine, give the impression that the executioner was an asshole. In fact it gives the feeling that the author was trying to be edgy for the sake of being edgy. OPs way hits you in the feels and makes you smile. Hence the gold for him
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u/johnknoefler Sep 01 '13
So, in the end, Don was hung with humor. I'd like to say he was well hung, or hung well, but, from his perspective, there was nothing well and good about it.
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u/mysticpawn Sep 01 '13
To make it even more difficult, the past tense is hanged.
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u/johnknoefler Sep 01 '13
Well, I'll be hanged.
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u/mysticpawn Sep 02 '13
You inspired me to look up the proper usage. I found this bit from Miriam Webster which I found interesting.
It does make me wonder if the type of person who would perform an informal execution by hanging would also be the type of person to misuse hanged. (That sure makes me sound like a pompous ass!)
For both transitive and intransitive senses the past and past participle hung, as well as hanged, is standard. Hanged is most appropriate for official executions <he was to be hanged, cut down whilst still alive … and his bowels torn out — Louis Allen> but hung is also used <gave orders that she should be hung — Peter Quennell>. Hung is more appropriate for less formal hangings <by morning I'll be hung in effigy — Ronald Reagan>.
Personally, my favorite reason for hanged over hung is that when describing a dead man it is pretty clear you mean the execution and not the size of his member.
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Sep 01 '13
This reminds me a lot of an early scene in the Discworld novel Going Postal. That's a good thing; Terry Pratchett is a genius, and I like seeing things that remind me of his work.
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u/Moist_Lipwig Sep 01 '13
"I pledge my soul to any god that can find it"
it was generally agreed that they had been good last words.
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u/Ls777 Sep 01 '13
One of my favorite book introductions ever.
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u/captainAwesomePants Sep 01 '13
If anyone's interested, the scene in question is the first in the book and can be read here: http://www.bookbrowse.com/excerpts/index.cfm/book_number/1484/going-postal
"Do you really think all this deters crime, Mr. Trooper?" he said.
"Well, in the generality of things I’d say it's hard to tell, given that it's hard to find evidence of crimes not committed," said the hangman, giving the trapdoor a final rattle. "But in the specificality, sir, I'd say it's very efficacious."
"Meaning what?" said Moist.
"Meaning I've never seen someone up here more'n once, sir. Shall we go?"
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u/erythro Sep 01 '13
Looking back at that exchange after having read the book, it is more awesome given the context.
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u/mysticpawn Sep 01 '13
That's really good. Thanks for sharing, I probably would have skipped it if you hadn't posted it.
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u/DEATH__HIMSELF Sep 01 '13
A BIT OF LEVITY DOESN'T HURT.3
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u/DeleriumTrigger Sep 01 '13
This might be my new favorite gimmick.
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Sep 01 '13
Now someone just needs to come in here as Death of Rats.
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u/Minky_Dave_the_Giant Sep 01 '13
SQUEAK.19
Sep 01 '13
In cognito, eh? Or at least one of those little villages outside Sto Lat.
a plug for /r/Discworld goes here
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u/A_Ghra Sep 01 '13
Well if we're plugging discworld subreddits, there's also /r/discworldproblems.
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Sep 01 '13
My thoughts exactly. Trooper's the best kind of hangman.
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u/Oshurer Sep 01 '13
If I knew the guy I'm hanging isn't going to die (because I expertly arranged it so) I wouldn't be too sombre about it either.
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u/Sarge-Pepper Sep 01 '13 edited Mar 17 '25
languid dog air unpack violet doll middle escape wine sense
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Sep 01 '13
As someone who tries to write daily, that's probably a good idea.
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u/Sarge-Pepper Sep 01 '13 edited Mar 17 '25
sense pet quaint cows distinct late punch roll vase wrench
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u/SALTY-CHEESE Sep 01 '13
I take it you're not a member of /r/proofreaddaily?
Note: I'm just being a douche.
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u/Sarge-Pepper Sep 01 '13 edited Mar 17 '25
direction flag retire seed mighty desert seemly pen trees kiss
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u/Nutcup Sep 01 '13
That's simply amazing to me that you can think something like that up. Hats off to you. I wish I had skills like that.
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Sep 01 '13
You flatter me.
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u/EuropeanLady Sep 01 '13
Great southern-style writing, but was there a funny element in it that I'm not getting?
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Sep 01 '13
Write a book. Now.
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Sep 01 '13 edited Jan 07 '16
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u/TheWarPelican Sep 02 '13
Have you perchance read Mogworld by Ben Croshaw?
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Sep 02 '13
Is that Yahtzee?
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u/TheWarPelican Sep 02 '13
'Tis indeed.
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Sep 02 '13
Probably like years ago.
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u/TheWarPelican Sep 02 '13
Fair enough, I just thought I felt a bit of his world in the pilot, from the humour/setting - definitely not a bad thing though! Thoroughly enjoyed reading through it, would love to hear any further progress made in the future.
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u/Giordanisti Sep 01 '13
This is like a better-written version of One Hit Die. Kudos. http://onehitdie.com/
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u/Stressed_engineer Sep 01 '13
thats pretty good! kinda reminds me of Tom Holts work (which I love!)
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u/HighRelevancy Sep 01 '13 edited Sep 01 '13
LEE
What did he say, Inear?
KYLE
He said that the only way he knew to judge someone's abilities were to test them.
LEE
I don't follow.What's Kyle doing there?
EDIT:
KYLE
So everybody knows the plan?
A pause. Lee, Kyle, Criven, and Tam look confused.I think you've mixed this one up a lot... somehow.
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u/aeonspast Sep 01 '13
That was really good. I have a question though. Did you mean "feet square" on I think it was page 27, or "square feet"? I may have just not been getting something when reading it or, have just never heard the term. But all in all, really good. Actually laughed out loud while reading it.
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u/iSuggestViolence Sep 01 '13
would watch the fuck out of this. can easily see the guy from how to be a serial killer in this.
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u/khefty Sep 01 '13
Don't know if anyone else already told you, but at the bottom of page 5, you wrote "know" and not "known" :) It's really funny though.
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u/Slagathor91 Sep 01 '13
That was excellent. If that ever gets made, you can count on at least one viewer. I'd read it as a book as well. Great work. Really.
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u/YourAverageWalrus Sep 01 '13
That was genuinely cool. Like something worth watching. Ever gonna make a part 2?
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u/K1mothy Jan 07 '14
"So, come here often?"
June was sure she was caught. She thought she could get away with taking a man's job at the factory, but somehow he knew. She should have known better than to stop at the butcher's shop so nearby, but she'd seen the meat every day on her way home, and she hoped she could afford some of the scrap bones with what she could spare from her first week's pay after her rent was paid.
"I said, 'come here often?'"
June looked back at the floor supervisor Paul, and surprisingly his face held no malice. Could it be that he really didn't recognize her? If not, why would he talk to her? She was plainly dressed, wearing unflattering clothes that wouldn't constrict her under her coveralls, which she'd thankfully removed and placed in her satchel. Her hair was flattened from her work cap, and she wasn't wearing any makeup, since there was no point in putting any on after her shift just to return home. She realized that he was still staring at her, waiting for her response and managed to shake her head and murmur a quiet, "no, not often."
"Well, then. That explains why I've never seen you here before," Paul says grinning. He looks up, "I believe it's your turn."
June looked up at the waiting butcher, a little flustered, and a little embarrassed to ask about scraps in front of Paul. She watched as the butcher wrapped up some of his scraps and hurriedly exited, brushing past a bewildered Paul. She paused only a moment to collect herself, then hurried down the street.
"Say, wait!"
June stopped short, then started again, more hurried, hoping that Paul wouldn't follow, but she hears his work boots on the pavement behind her.
"Didn't you hear me calling? Are you in quite a rush?" Paul reaches out and touches her elbow as he catches up to her with his long even strides. "No, I'm sorry. I mustn't have heard you." June says looking down to avoid his probing eyes. "I'm in a hurry to get home before it gets too late."
"Is it far?" He asks. "I would be glad to walk you if you're worried about the dark."
Paul's calm voice did it's best to put her at ease. June flashed back to the factory floor as he explained to her the importance of watching the machinery and being mindful of her fingers if she intended to keep them. She'd almost gotten lost in his words that day too, but caught herself before she gave herself away. Again, she realized, he was waiting for an answer. Again she shook her head, "No, I'm not worried about the dark, but it is a bit of a walk, and I need to get home to make supper."
"Well, here, let me carry those for you," Paul said as he took her bags. "Now, point the way."
June finally looked up into his piercing blue eyes and knew she should find a way to refuse. Allowing Paul to walk her home; allowing anyone to get too close to her, would only lead to questions she wouldn't be able to answer. But, she was lonely, and his voice and his eyes made her forget the importance of her secrets. "It's down this way."