I knew I was the only one like this. I could see the confusion in peoples eyes when I glanced above their head. I try to make it innocuous as possible. Just a little flicker in the eyes. Before I used to stare and people looked at me inquisitively. The numbers are always large. Counting down extremely fast. They are seconds. Once it hits zero I never see the person again. Not in some mythical way mind you. I just never run across them again. It’s hard to make use with this information though. I would do small things like if its someone at a gas station that I don’t frequent, I’ll try to sing a catchy song out loud and try to get them to play along. “I’ll never see them again” I always said to myself and I knew I wouldn’t as I watched the timer tick down. I would tell random strangers secrets, I would vent. It didn’t matter they weren’t going to be apart of my life any longer. What I didn’t expect was the day it changed. I never noticed how some of my close friends’ numbers were so close to each other. I always had assumed that if the day when the timer ran out it was going to be some huge fight. Then it hit me. I was going to die today. I walked outside in a calm panic. On the inside I was freaking out, but I tried to keep the facade of a normal person. I see my neighbor and wave. Above his head 30, 29, 28. I turned and picked up the pace in my walk. Everyone around me the seconds ticked so fast and each timer struck 0. Jason was supposed to meet me at a coffee shop. I was finally going to tell him everything. When I arrived I saw every single person’s timer was in sync, but Jason had an extra second no one else did. “Hey man are you okay?” Jason asked as my eyes darted around to look above everyone’s head.

“No, I have something to tell you, but I don’t have time.” I looked above his head as it counted down. 10, 9, 8, 7. I tried to run scared that something was going to happen to me if I stayed there. Jason grabs my shoulder to try and figure out what was happening. I quickly turned and tried to push him off of me. 3,2. He collides into the person behind him. That person was carrying a drink it flies into the air and splashes across my face. I close my eyes realizing it was a scalding cup of coffee that has planted in my eyes. The burns hurt. I screamed. I tried to open my eyes and I couldn’t see anything only black.

#writingprompt #Reddit #shortstory #mystery #suspense

What do you value a word at?

I'm beginning to think we have a different understanding.

I value words highly.

You don't.

At least that is my impression.

One thing we agreed on was the old saying that a picture is worth a thousand words.

That's why we took so many.

I thought we were saving.

You were spending.

I thought when you gave me your word it meant something.

It didn't.

I should have noticed how you mistreat them.

Everytime I told you how beautiful you are,

you never believed me,

but we value words differently.

What's the value of a word?

#love #poetry #romance

(Author's note: I have a "Complete the Story" book that has a whole bunch of writing prompts and I expect to use every one.) 

     At first, we thought the black liquid was oil, that we'd struck and that we'd be able to retired and live in leisure. We actually started writing down all the ways we'd spend the money. Our first choice was....

.... to buy our favorite saloon. We'd been going there for more than five years while out on this excavation. It was always filled with thrills and excitement, not to mention the madams' there were pretty nice too. It was a long journey to get to this point. After finally witnessing it, it didn't feel real. We laughed and looked at ourselves. We talked about how we were gonna buy fancy new clothes like them rich folk wear in town and ditch the mud covered boots and dusted shirts. I sat down and Atkin sat with me. We relaxed. We weren't in any hurry. We worked hard and it paid it's due. Atkin took his hat off and laid it on the ground next to him. He let out a sigh of relief. I looked down at his hat laying in the dust as the ooze flowed towards it. It was thick and slow. The occasional air bubble popped out. Neither of us have seen oil in person before. We still used horses. We knew these machines would replace horses in no time. We have seen the efficiency of them passing by the city.

     "Atkin you might wanna move your hat", I said to him to exhausted to move it for him.

     "Nah, that ol' thing has had its day. I'm gonna toss it out and get a brand new one", He said to me with a smile on his face. 

     We didn't know it then, but that could have been the difference in our happiness. If we moved the hat maybe we would have never learned what it was. We could have sold it and became rich just like we intended to. It would have been someone else's problem. It all changed when that thick black ooze touched the hat. Unlike itself the ooze bubbled rapidly when touching the hat almost making its mass bigger by the second. It started covering the hat whole. Eating it. That's the only way I could describe it. It was consuming the hat whole. Me and Atkin jumped back in disbelief. 

    "Does oil do that, Malcolm?" Atkin said to me. 

    " I ain't seen anything like that", I told him. We start backing away slowly. After the ooze finished the hat it's mass stayed larger and it propelled itself at us faster than it had ever moved. Not like it was fast, but it wasn't the same molasses speed it was before. It was more like honey in how it moved. The color was the same dark black it was before. It looked as if it was moving towards us. I take my pickaxe off the ground and slam it into the liquid. It was no use as the ooze ate the axe in a matter of seconds. The ooze was the size of a dog and moved as fast as thick blood. We ran away from it as fast as possible. The speed of the ooze was frightening. Atkin tried to mount his horse as did I. The ooze bubbled around the horses ankle apparently causing some pain to the horse. It arched back and Atkin rolled into the mass of ooze. It started bubbling around him. I jumped off my horse and tried to grab him. His screams were loud. He was fighting to get up. I reached out a hand to him and started pulling him out until his body went lifeless. I was pulling so hard I didn't notice the tar-like substance on my hand. I let go and tried to thrust myself away. I could't pull away. it started bubbling on me. I felt like chunks of me started disappearing. Every bubble that popped on me was more of me disintegrated. The pain was unreal. I quickly take my machete of my back and slash it down on my arm severing it. I screamed as I did it. I didn't have time to feel the pain. I didn't have time to care. I ran. My horse was long gone by the commotion. His horse was half eaten in the puddle. The bubbles still popping on it. Before turning around and running I saw Atkin. Not actually him. The ooze pretended to be him. I saw his face smile wearing his hat but instead of skin it was the tar. Pitch black making it hard to tell for certain if it was imitating Atkin. I didn't care I ran. I ran as far as I could. After about ten minutes of straight running I collapse. i felt light headed and dreary. The blood loss a major contributor to that. I lay there. I hear horse trots in the distance. 

My walls are confused. 

They have only heard half of the story. 

Everyday I come home and talk.

The walls never understand the full picture. 

They hear me talk,

But they don't hear the other half. 

They don't see the beautiful woman in front of me.

They hear my laughter.

The words of love.

The occasional argument.

I feel sorry for my walls because they can't hear her.

Her walls must be the same.

Only hearing half of the conversation.

The rest muffled by headphones.

But soon my visit will come. 

And her walls will understand the full story.

Our conversations.

Our love.

Us.

My walls will have to wait until the day she visits me.

So they can understand too. 

     I crouch along the blooming bushes of flowers next to the house. They were beautiful, although you couldn't tell at this time of night. I adjusted and tightened my mask to make sure it fit properly. I picked up my crowbar and serrated knife off the ground and approached the house with such caution that you would assume I was hunting prey, and I was. This wasn't my first time doing this. It won't be my last. I press the crowbar against the window and slowly pry it open. Once I made enough room I slipped in. I quietly shut the window behind me and pulled out my serrated knife. The knife was made just like his. I had always wanted to enjoy this, but I was always worried of being caught. My decision was to follow another's example. Kill as he does. Slay in the same way. That way when they see the deaths they know it was him. Not me. I creep towards the door and peek through the slight opening. The coast was clear. I gave a gentle shove to move the door to my side. The hallway before me was empty. A lamp was on at the end and a T.V. could be heard around the corner. I stayed huddled to the wall as I stalked towards the living room. I turn my head around the corner to see a man sitting in a chair. There he was. My victim. I stayed crouched and slowly made my way to him. I take a glance at the T.V.. Wait. I'm on there. He is watching security footage of his own home live. I stand and run towards the chair only to be hit by a baseball bat. I fell to the ground blood rushing from my head. The knife was no longer in my hand. The man contains my arms and presses his knee to my neck. Breathing became difficult. "Are you the Night Horror? You know the one that's always in the papers?" The man said as he let up his knee to allow me to answer. 

     "Yeah, that's me," I replied with a grunt. 

    "Bullshit," He demanded. He grabs the knife on the floor and jams it inside my leg. I writhed in the pain. Blood rushing from my body. The skin tore just as I expected it to. Just not to me. The pain was sharp. I let out a scream. "Do you want to see something?" That dreaded man said. I replied with a few curses as he got up and went into the hall. He returned shortly with another knife. A familiar shape. The same knife in my leg. He was holding something behind his back. Shortly after I noticed it, he revealed a mask. The same mask. He places it on his head. "No one likes a copy cat." He said with a smirk. I couldn't see the smirk behind the mask. The same smirk I gave my victims.  

I always thought having a superpower would make me a better person. I was, unfortunately, wrong. It didn't make me evil like a super villain. No. I gave up. Everything became so easy, so why try? Everything was essentially held out to me on a silver platter. My power. My gift is to pull anything out of thin air. I'm a glorified magician. Upon discovery of this power in my youth I actually contemplated becoming one. I thought it would lead to fame and money, but mostly money. I quickly dismissed the idea because I could just make the money appear before me. Then I stopped doing that because I'd make whatever I want appear. I cut out the middleman. I stopped going out. I didn't need to. So in order to feel whole again, I decided to write. Making words appear in a pattern that didn't exist so I couldn't just make it appear. Something I wouldn't have in front of me just because I want it. I'm challenging myself. I am starting to think this "gift" existed to push me to new challenges. Why would I crumble under my gift. I am probably the only person who would obtain such a power and waste it to occupy my laziness. I didn't chose to have it, but I have had enough being my own downfall. So starting now. I will write. I will create. I will challenge myself.