XxFwuffyBunnyxX
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CotW #66: Write about the biggest lesson life has taught you.
Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX

Twisted Revenge

It is expected that we don't steal. Society governs us in a way that brainwashes us to never lay a finger on something that was never of our own. People gloat about their pristine and enlightened spirits even after the beginning of the making and mending of their souls commenced due to the repress of purloin. But for the cloaked organization that conceals themselves under the moonless shadows that awaken in the darkest of nights... stealing is merely nothing but survival. Yes hindered by the world, the secluded organization that dances between every brisk silhouette is adjudged as futile detritus that sweeps through streets. People ostracize and eschew us, look down on us as feeble-minded apes, and would even send us to the execution ring. So it is adequate that we peculate what we have lost and savor the vengeance that we have longed for. We survive off of the consternation and distress of others, and take back all that we have lost. I will never look back on that day again. It will only motivate me and make my abhorrence stronger to make people perceive what I had felt. I will make sure that the puppets that get hooked on our choking strings will never get spared mercy. Yes this is the story of our attempt to get our sweet revenge.

                      Written in the perspective of the individual who learned

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I listen to the soft hums of the wind as my vision constantly checks the thin moving lines of my modernized device. My heart diligently knocks at my chest as I hearken closely for any signs of movement. I swiftly dart my perception towards my silver watch and it reads: 4:00 AM -- before quickly returning to my frozen stance. My physiognomy manages to run a gentle smile, and I silently laugh at my condition. A teenager thieving efficient gas from senior citizens, isolated and alone, in a gas station in the middle of nowhere.

But my mind suddenly snaps back towards my situation by reflex, and there I am again staring at my next elderly target. My eyes trace the paths of my icy breath as the two lines on my incessant time reader race to strike the 4:05 AM point. Strangely, I hold back my breath until one of the lines touches the abbreviated arrows that signals the universe to let go of one single minute -- before I exhale all the warmth from my lungs.

I seem to frown at my polished compass of time because I can feel the creased folding-points of my face slowly dip into my cheeks as I fidget with the transparent but yet sophisticated mechanism. The windows to my vision project to the sky as I scan for the Northern Lights for any signs of upcoming events. What was taking them so long? I can feel the released warmth from my lungs gradually begin to dot my face as I wordlessly yell at my idiocy. They probably left me to do the real job so that when I came back they could get all the rewards. I gently smack my forehead in contrition before I'm interrupted by the mute beeping of my tracking device.

I abruptly seize my key to success, and I bring my eye up to the reader. The unremitting line seems to swiftly run from one side to the other as it calculates how much gas each vehicle accommodates. After five whole seconds the apparatus insists that the contemporary automobile conceals over half a tank of gasoline. I grin with a malevolent aura as my mind consumes the portrayal of the slick aesthetic machinery.

The car was like a convoluted argument -- structured with a defined representation and a poised sort of arrogance. This one car in particular reminded me of a marine dolphin, with it’s smooth but subtle arch and it’s rising fin that complemented the outlook of the presentation. I could spot that the possessor of this extortionate vehicle was in the next door gas station market, so this was unquestionably my chance to sweep in and borrow the liquid gold for good.

So working quickly with my hands, I briskly swipe my gadgets and place them neatly into my satchel. My legs now sprinting without hesitation towards the large RV that is conveniently positioned near the paradise of liquid gold. I serenely open the elevated door that holds my key to success, and I mildly tiptoe towards the taker of all things valuable. Discreetly I cavort over mountains of unhealthful junk food as I reach out and grasp towards my way of accomplishing my mission. Yes this wasn’t my conveyance vessel, but I had to temporarily place my machine here just because the vehicle was asking me to come over since it happened to be parked next to the gas station. Plus I had to move fast, even though decrepit and incapacitated citizens seem to be old and sedate, this was only a measure to how observant and heedful they actually were.

Now clutching onto my gas herder -- a slender tube that would grab all of the transportation fluid I desired, I gingerly paced out of the substantial car and into the open morning. Outside it was still dark and cold like I had recalled, except now the glistening stars that slept in the sky had now vanished. I persistently trudged with my taker of gas cradled over my shoulder as I blindly sauntered through the unlit pathways. It was palpably darker when I had exited the RV, so it was difficult to normally walk on the sidewalks. But as my feet hastened down steps that my senses didn’t remember collecting into their memory storages, my intellect began to go into a juncture of perturbation and apprehension. After it seemed like thousands of deteriorating steps, I began to get skeptical of where I was leading myself. But petrified with the conclusion of the moneyed car owner finding me stealing his luxury gas, I sustained my gradual plod into the gloom.

Through the shadows that I was so familiar with, my hands began to indiscriminately feel through the surroundings of which I perceived was the vehicle that I had based my plan on. As the sensation of an annular orifice slightly ringed against my lightest touch, I then tugged at my gas keeper and plugged it into the opening. A peculiar feeling in my lower stomach urged me that something was anomalous, but I sternly prompted myself that I had to complete what I had come for. So as my finger gracefully landed ever so softly on the switch of my triumph, I instantly flickered the light to my achievement.

Until there was a subdued outcry from the source of the circular gap had my sanity progressively become overcome with dubiety and incertitude. There was a leaden mourn from the vehicle, and then suddenly a burst of water that battled me backwards. I found myself drowned in a pool water with a eerie aroma, as I struggled to catch on to what had occurred. A muffled cry managed to escape the depths of my soul, as I accepted my fate. I had failed.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I awoke to dim neon lights and the blaring sounds of the sirens of a police car, as my wrists were tied together and my silver watch replaced with metal handcuffs. Apparently I had unintentionally fooled myself with the root of a sewer line rather than my ideal lavish gasoline. It was going to be a long journey I could tell because I would later be sentenced to five months of prison. But the only real memory I could recall on my attempt was the excruciating ride from the gas station to the police office. My recollection clutched against the ringing phrase that the cop had story told to me about never even thinking about stealing again. But I knew that was the past now, it was only a distant memory that taunted me at the weaknesses of my soul.

Now I was suited in an empty room in the police facility. The walls around me secreted of a dull white shade and the only source of color was imprinted in the black letters that proudly shone throughout my imprisonment. The characters bleakly illustrated the life lesson of an individual who never strived to steal anything. I happily beamed at those words and lightly shook my head. I knew these fallacious terms were only present to propagandize me into surrendering my life to death. But unlike many of the habitual human species that gave into surrender to their passions and past lives, I was different. I would survive ungrudgingly with the yearning for the success I spoke of and will live through. I stared at the blankness of the walls filled with capabilites as thoughts spun through my mind, I had five months to plan out my next plan for sweet revenge.

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CotW #66: Write about the biggest lesson life has taught you.
Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX
Twisted Revenge
It is expected that we don't steal. Society governs us in a way that brainwashes us to never lay a finger on something that was never of our own. People gloat about their pristine and enlightened spirits even after the beginning of the making and mending of their souls commenced due to the repress of purloin. But for the cloaked organization that conceals themselves under the moonless shadows that awaken in the darkest of nights... stealing is merely nothing but survival. Yes hindered by the world, the secluded organization that dances between every brisk silhouette is adjudged as futile detritus that sweeps through streets. People ostracize and eschew us, look down on us as feeble-minded apes, and would even send us to the execution ring. So it is adequate that we peculate what we have lost and savor the vengeance that we have longed for. We survive off of the consternation and distress of others, and take back all that we have lost. I will never look back on that day again. It will only motivate me and make my abhorrence stronger to make people perceive what I had felt. I will make sure that the puppets that get hooked on our choking strings will never get spared mercy. Yes this is the story of our attempt to get our sweet revenge.

                      Written in the perspective of the individual who learned
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I listen to the soft hums of the wind as my vision constantly checks the thin moving lines of my modernized device. My heart diligently knocks at my chest as I hearken closely for any signs of movement. I swiftly dart my perception towards my silver watch and it reads: 4:00 AM -- before quickly returning to my frozen stance. My physiognomy manages to run a gentle smile, and I silently laugh at my condition. A teenager thieving efficient gas from senior citizens, isolated and alone, in a gas station in the middle of nowhere.

But my mind suddenly snaps back towards my situation by reflex, and there I am again staring at my next elderly target. My eyes trace the paths of my icy breath as the two lines on my incessant time reader race to strike the 4:05 AM point. Strangely, I hold back my breath until one of the lines touches the abbreviated arrows that signals the universe to let go of one single minute -- before I exhale all the warmth from my lungs.

I seem to frown at my polished compass of time because I can feel the creased folding-points of my face slowly dip into my cheeks as I fidget with the transparent but yet sophisticated mechanism. The windows to my vision project to the sky as I scan for the Northern Lights for any signs of upcoming events. What was taking them so long? I can feel the released warmth from my lungs gradually begin to dot my face as I wordlessly yell at my idiocy. They probably left me to do the real job so that when I came back they could get all the rewards. I gently smack my forehead in contrition before I'm interrupted by the mute beeping of my tracking device.

I abruptly seize my key to success, and I bring my eye up to the reader. The unremitting line seems to swiftly run from one side to the other as it calculates how much gas each vehicle accommodates. After five whole seconds the apparatus insists that the contemporary automobile conceals over half a tank of gasoline. I grin with a malevolent aura as my mind consumes the portrayal of the slick aesthetic machinery.

The car was like a convoluted argument -- structured with a defined representation and a poised sort of arrogance. This one car in particular reminded me of a marine dolphin, with it’s smooth but subtle arch and it’s rising fin that complemented the outlook of the presentation. I could spot that the possessor of this extortionate vehicle was in the next door gas station market, so this was unquestionably my chance to sweep in and borrow the liquid gold for good.

So working quickly with my hands, I briskly swipe my gadgets and place them neatly into my satchel. My legs now sprinting without hesitation towards the large RV that is conveniently positioned near the paradise of liquid gold. I serenely open the elevated door that holds my key to success, and I mildly tiptoe towards the taker of all things valuable. Discreetly I cavort over mountains of unhealthful junk food as I reach out and grasp towards my way of accomplishing my mission. Yes this wasn’t my conveyance vessel, but I had to temporarily place my machine here just because the vehicle was asking me to come over since it happened to be parked next to the gas station. Plus I had to move fast, even though decrepit and incapacitated citizens seem to be old and sedate, this was only a measure to how observant and heedful they actually were.

Now clutching onto my gas herder -- a slender tube that would grab all of the transportation fluid I desired, I gingerly paced out of the substantial car and into the open morning. Outside it was still dark and cold like I had recalled, except now the glistening stars that slept in the sky had now vanished. I persistently trudged with my taker of gas cradled over my shoulder as I blindly sauntered through the unlit pathways. It was palpably darker when I had exited the RV, so it was difficult to normally walk on the sidewalks. But as my feet hastened down steps that my senses didn’t remember collecting into their memory storages, my intellect began to go into a juncture of perturbation and apprehension. After it seemed like thousands of deteriorating steps, I began to get skeptical of where I was leading myself. But petrified with the conclusion of the moneyed car owner finding me stealing his luxury gas, I sustained my gradual plod into the gloom.

Through the shadows that I was so familiar with, my hands began to indiscriminately feel through the surroundings of which I perceived was the vehicle that I had based my plan on. As the sensation of an annular orifice slightly ringed against my lightest touch, I then tugged at my gas keeper and plugged it into the opening. A peculiar feeling in my lower stomach urged me that something was anomalous, but I sternly prompted myself that I had to complete what I had come for. So as my finger gracefully landed ever so softly on the switch of my triumph, I instantly flickered the light to my achievement.

Until there was a subdued outcry from the source of the circular gap had my sanity progressively become overcome with dubiety and incertitude. There was a leaden mourn from the vehicle, and then suddenly a burst of water that battled me backwards. I found myself drowned in a pool water with a eerie aroma, as I struggled to catch on to what had occurred. A muffled cry managed to escape the depths of my soul, as I accepted my fate. I had failed.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I awoke to dim neon lights and the blaring sounds of the sirens of a police car, as my wrists were tied together and my silver watch replaced with metal handcuffs. Apparently I had unintentionally fooled myself with the root of a sewer line rather than my ideal lavish gasoline. It was going to be a long journey I could tell because I would later be sentenced to five months of prison. But the only real memory I could recall on my attempt was the excruciating ride from the gas station to the police office. My recollection clutched against the ringing phrase that the cop had story told to me about never even thinking about stealing again. But I knew that was the past now, it was only a distant memory that taunted me at the weaknesses of my soul.

Now I was suited in an empty room in the police facility. The walls around me secreted of a dull white shade and the only source of color was imprinted in the black letters that proudly shone throughout my imprisonment. The characters bleakly illustrated the life lesson of an individual who never strived to steal anything. I happily beamed at those words and lightly shook my head. I knew these fallacious terms were only present to propagandize me into surrendering my life to death. But unlike many of the habitual human species that gave into surrender to their passions and past lives, I was different. I would survive ungrudgingly with the yearning for the success I spoke of and will live through. I stared at the blankness of the walls filled with capabilites as thoughts spun through my mind, I had five months to plan out my next plan for sweet revenge.
#adventure  #poetic  #lifelesson 
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Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX in portal Introductions

The Nameless Alien

Welcome wandering reader to this idiosyncratic adventure crafted by one small individual in the world!

I have recently found this peculiar website and I've got to say it's the only one that has stuck to my life. Many things that are not of ones interest can float away as once something significant into a memory that has been shrewdly erased from their minds forever. But before you estimate me as one of the many quick-witted and intellect older human species on this website, please accept my introduction.

I live as a young preteen that enjoys engrossing myself in the world of pen on paper. My life must survive for writing not only because it's different opinions, styles, and authors... but also because I can also express my emotions and passions through writing until the fateful day of becoming a teen arrives knocking at the door. Yes some may say that a juvenile that relishes writing is foolish, but I guess that's why I don't consider myself normal. The majority of the prospering human empire will claim that children should play video games, hang out with their friends, text their significant other, or keep up with the ongoing fads(that never seems to stop)... but I am different.

A day in my everyday life, I attend the paradise of knowledge much like other adolescents. I am a loyal student that likes watermelon jolly-ranchers and views the world through different eyes unlike many(I mean many) of my empty minded peers. At the heaven of education I'm a individual that participates in many active sports. I also am an amateur writer, music composer, and observer of the universe. One of the many things I most enjoy at tuition is after school clubs. I'm the coach of a Debate Team that empowers kids to speak dynamically through techniques and motivation. But at night it is a totally different story.

Through the midst of the clouded, full moon nights, that ring with the howls of wolves... I identify as the dangerous fwuffy bunny. Yes as you read through this story, don't be fooled by my adorable username and my childish photo -- but rather view me as a writer. Scrolling through the lives of authors I comment, like, and enter the daring challenges that offer the one ten-thousandth of a million reward. And before I even get to lightly see a little part of your guys lives through your wonderful stories, I gently close my eyes and imagine where and when the adventure will take me. Yes I know I'm very strange for making this a part of my ritual before every story, but this is one of the many reasons why I am not normal.

I only eat watermelon jolly-ranchers and I might have an OCD habit. My life is guided by writing and and I am a part time mathematician/scientist, music composer, speaker, and athlete. Some may even say that I'm pretty well-rounded. But then there's that other side of me. The side that views the world like no one else and my writing can only portray a fraction of what I see and perceive. That other side where there is a sapling, slowly sprouting into something beautiful. Strange. Well I guess that's why they call me the nameless alien.

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Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX in portal Introductions
The Nameless Alien
Welcome wandering reader to this idiosyncratic adventure crafted by one small individual in the world!

I have recently found this peculiar website and I've got to say it's the only one that has stuck to my life. Many things that are not of ones interest can float away as once something significant into a memory that has been shrewdly erased from their minds forever. But before you estimate me as one of the many quick-witted and intellect older human species on this website, please accept my introduction.

I live as a young preteen that enjoys engrossing myself in the world of pen on paper. My life must survive for writing not only because it's different opinions, styles, and authors... but also because I can also express my emotions and passions through writing until the fateful day of becoming a teen arrives knocking at the door. Yes some may say that a juvenile that relishes writing is foolish, but I guess that's why I don't consider myself normal. The majority of the prospering human empire will claim that children should play video games, hang out with their friends, text their significant other, or keep up with the ongoing fads(that never seems to stop)... but I am different.

A day in my everyday life, I attend the paradise of knowledge much like other adolescents. I am a loyal student that likes watermelon jolly-ranchers and views the world through different eyes unlike many(I mean many) of my empty minded peers. At the heaven of education I'm a individual that participates in many active sports. I also am an amateur writer, music composer, and observer of the universe. One of the many things I most enjoy at tuition is after school clubs. I'm the coach of a Debate Team that empowers kids to speak dynamically through techniques and motivation. But at night it is a totally different story.

Through the midst of the clouded, full moon nights, that ring with the howls of wolves... I identify as the dangerous fwuffy bunny. Yes as you read through this story, don't be fooled by my adorable username and my childish photo -- but rather view me as a writer. Scrolling through the lives of authors I comment, like, and enter the daring challenges that offer the one ten-thousandth of a million reward. And before I even get to lightly see a little part of your guys lives through your wonderful stories, I gently close my eyes and imagine where and when the adventure will take me. Yes I know I'm very strange for making this a part of my ritual before every story, but this is one of the many reasons why I am not normal.

I only eat watermelon jolly-ranchers and I might have an OCD habit. My life is guided by writing and and I am a part time mathematician/scientist, music composer, speaker, and athlete. Some may even say that I'm pretty well-rounded. But then there's that other side of me. The side that views the world like no one else and my writing can only portray a fraction of what I see and perceive. That other side where there is a sapling, slowly sprouting into something beautiful. Strange. Well I guess that's why they call me the nameless alien.
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In 15 words tell me why you write
Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX

Written.

Because the person that always lives in my head deserves to have a voice too.

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In 15 words tell me why you write
Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX
Written.
Because the person that always lives in my head deserves to have a voice too.
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Give us a little piece of your wisdom. Create your own proverb or quote. This is the quote you'll be remembered by, the quote that will go on fortune cookies and quote books, so make it a good one. 50 coins for the winner. Happy quoting!
Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX

Success of Defeat.

Loss is not the defeat of what we could've of won, but rather the insight to what we had always won.

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Give us a little piece of your wisdom. Create your own proverb or quote. This is the quote you'll be remembered by, the quote that will go on fortune cookies and quote books, so make it a good one. 50 coins for the winner. Happy quoting!
Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX
Success of Defeat.
Loss is not the defeat of what we could've of won, but rather the insight to what we had always won.


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Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX in portal Fiction

You are Beautiful

     My perception focuses on the roaring waves outside my window, as I evade the sight of myself. But even though the small little screaming voice inside of me commands me to look away, in the corner of my eye, I faintly trace the outline of my body.

     I can feel the beats of my heart and taste the saltiness of the beach outside the thin fixed glass, but they are all so distant. My senses auscultate to the drumming of my core and I divulge to the voice that I will see. 

     So my lungs take in a labored breath and I slowly exhale times of pain, worry, and self-consciousness. The screeching voice in my head hollers louder, but I overlook it's cries and my mind halts for three steady drums. one. two. three.

     My view flashes towards the mirror, and I stare at the image. I can see, and my eyes reflect words of antipathy, imperfection, and animosity.

     I try to shift the mysterious flabs of flesh near my waist, attempting to somehow distribute the weight evenly so I appear lean and tall. The mini voice inside of me is silent, drowned by the pools of hatred that burns in it's tiny heart.

     My hands constrict the heart-shaped pills in my palm, as the fire begins to engulf me into its depths of darkness. I take a sharp and sudden breath as I fight back the urge to cry.

     My attention is now on the three heart-shaped pills as my mind races through thoughts and ideas. I glance at the silky light-pink pigment of the pills as the roaring of the waves outside echoes triumphantly through my brain. This is what will make me look pretty like them, the renewed voice in my head whispers. Just one easy gulp and I will have that elegant curve, perfect skin, and that breath-taking face like all the other girls.

     Now avoiding the appearance I see in the reflective glass, the entry ways to my soul gently close. I slowly tip my head back, my hazel hair sweeping behind me as I bring my palm closer to my mouth. Tears of misery glide down my cheeks as the distance between the heart-shaped pills and my mouth gradually decline.

     As I take a hesitant last breath, I can feel the the icy aura of the pills seep throughout the containment of my hand. My heart thumps against my chest as I feel the attenuated elastic metal around the heart-shaped pills touch against my lips...until there is a knock. A warm knock, familiar and gentle -- a knock that will wrap its arms around me in a loving embrace. My eyes teleport to my door, where she is standing.

"Honey, you are beautiful." My mom says softly into the open room.

    

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Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX in portal Fiction
You are Beautiful
     My perception focuses on the roaring waves outside my window, as I evade the sight of myself. But even though the small little screaming voice inside of me commands me to look away, in the corner of my eye, I faintly trace the outline of my body.
     I can feel the beats of my heart and taste the saltiness of the beach outside the thin fixed glass, but they are all so distant. My senses auscultate to the drumming of my core and I divulge to the voice that I will see. 
     So my lungs take in a labored breath and I slowly exhale times of pain, worry, and self-consciousness. The screeching voice in my head hollers louder, but I overlook it's cries and my mind halts for three steady drums. one. two. three.
     My view flashes towards the mirror, and I stare at the image. I can see, and my eyes reflect words of antipathy, imperfection, and animosity.
     I try to shift the mysterious flabs of flesh near my waist, attempting to somehow distribute the weight evenly so I appear lean and tall. The mini voice inside of me is silent, drowned by the pools of hatred that burns in it's tiny heart.
     My hands constrict the heart-shaped pills in my palm, as the fire begins to engulf me into its depths of darkness. I take a sharp and sudden breath as I fight back the urge to cry.
     My attention is now on the three heart-shaped pills as my mind races through thoughts and ideas. I glance at the silky light-pink pigment of the pills as the roaring of the waves outside echoes triumphantly through my brain. This is what will make me look pretty like them, the renewed voice in my head whispers. Just one easy gulp and I will have that elegant curve, perfect skin, and that breath-taking face like all the other girls.
     Now avoiding the appearance I see in the reflective glass, the entry ways to my soul gently close. I slowly tip my head back, my hazel hair sweeping behind me as I bring my palm closer to my mouth. Tears of misery glide down my cheeks as the distance between the heart-shaped pills and my mouth gradually decline.
     As I take a hesitant last breath, I can feel the the icy aura of the pills seep throughout the containment of my hand. My heart thumps against my chest as I feel the attenuated elastic metal around the heart-shaped pills touch against my lips...until there is a knock. A warm knock, familiar and gentle -- a knock that will wrap its arms around me in a loving embrace. My eyes teleport to my door, where she is standing.

"Honey, you are beautiful." My mom says softly into the open room.


    
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Challenge of the Week #61: Write a piece of flash fiction about rejection. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX

Before Sunlight

     The virtuous watering eyes of the juvenile puppy stared out into the foggy glass that separated him and his new adopter. The decrepit dog pound that he was being raised in along with hundreds of other dogs was a new tourist attraction. Trying out his finest tricks and impotent whimpers, the newborn Dalmatian bounced around the confinements of his constrained glass box until he was met by an elderly visitor.

    The senior man had white bedraggled hair and prominent dim gray eyes that seemed to make him not see at all. But even with his perchance of blindness, the old man somehow propped the tiny Dalmatian out of the glass container and blissfully strode with the pup to his synthetic home.

    At the disheveled home, the puppy would later regret all his tricks and gimmicks he had performed at the dog pound. He would experience being starved and never being the recipient of tenderness and love. He would be hit and slapped by the end of a bamboo feather duster his master relished so much. The innocent pup would know what pain, agony, and hopelessness all felt like -- unlike the other dogs.

    So it would be one day that he knew the true feeling of betrayal, that the Dalmatian would dig under the fence of his master's home to escape months of abuse and neglect. The young pup escaped, lost and disoriented as he wandered the open streets of a populated city.

    The miniature escape artist would cry out into the soft skies, giving a howl of melancholy and mourning as he slept on the streets. He cried merely because he yearned for affection and the warmth of a human-being.

     As the days passed, the pup would scavenge for food in the dumpsters of the active city, looking for anything he could find, and grasping towards hope and the future. But now the territory dominated by three other full-grown male dogs that had wanted their share of the dumpster, the puppy ran for his life until his vision was blurred with tears.

However, the full-grown dogs diverted their attention and attacked a man in a shiny black suit who happened to walk by. Although the puppy could hide from the turmoil, he knew he wanted an honorable death.

    He instinctively charged towards the cluster of male canines and fought for his own life as well as the stranger's. He resisted until his right ear was chewed off and his own blood stained the sidewalk.

   Then there was emptiness; the strange soothing voice of another life form. The same man in the suit would carry the tiny dog into a car to the nearest veterinarian where the pup would be treated. The miniature dog cried out in suffering, as the stranger spoke in reassurance.

"Sshhhh, it's okay buddy," the man said lightly into the atmosphere.

    And for a second as the puppy opened his eyes and glanced at the warm sunset outside the car window, he knew this was home.

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Challenge of the Week #61: Write a piece of flash fiction about rejection. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX
Before Sunlight
     The virtuous watering eyes of the juvenile puppy stared out into the foggy glass that separated him and his new adopter. The decrepit dog pound that he was being raised in along with hundreds of other dogs was a new tourist attraction. Trying out his finest tricks and impotent whimpers, the newborn Dalmatian bounced around the confinements of his constrained glass box until he was met by an elderly visitor.
    The senior man had white bedraggled hair and prominent dim gray eyes that seemed to make him not see at all. But even with his perchance of blindness, the old man somehow propped the tiny Dalmatian out of the glass container and blissfully strode with the pup to his synthetic home.
    At the disheveled home, the puppy would later regret all his tricks and gimmicks he had performed at the dog pound. He would experience being starved and never being the recipient of tenderness and love. He would be hit and slapped by the end of a bamboo feather duster his master relished so much. The innocent pup would know what pain, agony, and hopelessness all felt like -- unlike the other dogs.
    So it would be one day that he knew the true feeling of betrayal, that the Dalmatian would dig under the fence of his master's home to escape months of abuse and neglect. The young pup escaped, lost and disoriented as he wandered the open streets of a populated city.
    The miniature escape artist would cry out into the soft skies, giving a howl of melancholy and mourning as he slept on the streets. He cried merely because he yearned for affection and the warmth of a human-being.
     As the days passed, the pup would scavenge for food in the dumpsters of the active city, looking for anything he could find, and grasping towards hope and the future. But now the territory dominated by three other full-grown male dogs that had wanted their share of the dumpster, the puppy ran for his life until his vision was blurred with tears.
However, the full-grown dogs diverted their attention and attacked a man in a shiny black suit who happened to walk by. Although the puppy could hide from the turmoil, he knew he wanted an honorable death.
    He instinctively charged towards the cluster of male canines and fought for his own life as well as the stranger's. He resisted until his right ear was chewed off and his own blood stained the sidewalk.
   Then there was emptiness; the strange soothing voice of another life form. The same man in the suit would carry the tiny dog into a car to the nearest veterinarian where the pup would be treated. The miniature dog cried out in suffering, as the stranger spoke in reassurance.

"Sshhhh, it's okay buddy," the man said lightly into the atmosphere.

    And for a second as the puppy opened his eyes and glanced at the warm sunset outside the car window, he knew this was home.

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Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX

Erased

The tips of my fingers gracefully leap off the keyboard,

For all now is done

Years and years of wrinkled depression

Now spread upon robotic paper

Centuries of misery, silence, and hope

Are only whispers to memory

The words hide meaning, hide truth

They are only fake smiles that burden the agony

Words are mimicry

They beat the bushes and clatter the dishes,

Disguises are their specialty even if exposed to the persecutor

In a blink of an eye eras of meaning disappear

Lightning crystals stream down my face

Onto the keys

They are slick from tears filled with outcry

I check the history

But there is no history

I read again, again, again

Grasping for the soothing comfort that it's still here

But I know it's gone

Reality proves it's gone

And the feelings from before bubble up inside me

I need to accept

Repeating the words thousands of times in my head

accept, accept, accept

I am stronger

I am anew

Not trapped in this tight box

I stare at the blankness once more

The whiteness once filled with dark

Before is erased,

accept

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Juice
142 reads
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Juice
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Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX
Erased
The tips of my fingers gracefully leap off the keyboard,
For all now is done

Years and years of wrinkled depression
Now spread upon robotic paper

Centuries of misery, silence, and hope
Are only whispers to memory

The words hide meaning, hide truth
They are only fake smiles that burden the agony

Words are mimicry
They beat the bushes and clatter the dishes,
Disguises are their specialty even if exposed to the persecutor

In a blink of an eye eras of meaning disappear
Lightning crystals stream down my face
Onto the keys
They are slick from tears filled with outcry

I check the history
But there is no history

I read again, again, again
Grasping for the soothing comfort that it's still here

But I know it's gone
Reality proves it's gone
And the feelings from before bubble up inside me

I need to accept
Repeating the words thousands of times in my head
accept, accept, accept

I am stronger
I am anew
Not trapped in this tight box

I stare at the blankness once more
The whiteness once filled with dark

Before is erased,
accept
1
0
0
Juice
142 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to XxFwuffyBunnyxX.
Juice
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Challenge of the Week #60: You have just discovered a new lifeform. Write a story of 200 words or more. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX

The Unknown.

     People say that there are many unknowns in this vast universe that we have barely breathed in with our souls or have seen with our naive eyes. That there are effervescent caves of massive crystals untouched, paths un-walked, or even infinitesimal atoms that have not been investigated under the blurry lenses of microscopes. But what happens if everything was a lie? What if the norm was actually something programmed into our uncomplicated minds? All these speculations gently flowed through my mentality like a soft soothing waterfall in the middle of spring. I knew I was probably misleading myself, at most even confounding myself. But the strong urge of rebellion coursed through my body, gently gnawing at the back of my mind like the awful aftertaste of cough medicine. All in which I sat at my glossy too-perfect white stained table, fingering a small red plastic heart I had received generously for Valentines Day.

      It wasn't that it was hard for me to believe that I had to abide to all these enforced laws, I just had a challenging time believing these so called Natural Beneficial Covenants would actually benefit our system. I mean at times I could accuse myself for not listening submissively to all these modernized constitutions that the organization conjured up for us citizens, but what happens if the things we knew were not of our knowing at all? At times I felt as if a masked society with an ulterior motive was secretly endorsed in the making of these laws. These people would be specially hired just to sprinkle propaganda and twisted facts into the underlying what seemed perfect government regulations.

      I sighed listening to the soft squeaks of my boots under the marble sidewalks as I gingerly walked out of my house, regretting everything I had just reflected on. Of course the organization wouldn't do these kind of things. I was just some crazy intellectual preteen that enjoyed engrossing myself in the future plans of world downfall. The organization were good people I reasoned with myself, nodding my head slightly as the chemical process in my brain sent neurons to transmit my thinking. The people controlling the organization are genuine I reassured myself, as I kept my eyes locked in front of me. Why else would they be in an organization otherwise? I smiled slightly, it was just my stupid brain trying to be analytical and perceptive. On the inside, I truly knew the organization wouldn't do anything close to what I was thinking. I closed my eyes in a relaxed motion and gave an icy breath into the soft wind, as a frail elbow jabbed me into the depths of my ribs.

      I shot the person an enraged look, realizing that the man was wearing a government official badge. The man seemed rushed and poorly unkempt, yelling into a small rectangular phone the size of a note card as he sprinted into a tall skyscraper. I knew that the proper thing to do would be to brush off the meetup and continue on with my life, but the same tingling sensation of rebellion shrewdly slid through my blood. So I followed the government official to what seemed to be hundreds of tiny intricate and polished stairs until I was led to a dark laboratory buzzing with scientists and organization members. I hid low on the corner of a hallway as images quickly flashed through my mind. Pictures of gruesome tentacled monsters with unproportional heads kept in tight glass tanks snapped into my vision. Memories of scientists dissecting wild creatures and imaginary aliens of all shapes and colors were petrified into my soul. I stood crouched in the hallway my body shivering, as I recalled the first law of the Natural Beneficial Covenant.

Citizens may not learn any extra or unnecessary information. For knowing may lead to harsh discipline and is extremely dangerous.

10
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2
Juice
526 reads
Donate coins to XxFwuffyBunnyxX.
Juice
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Challenge of the Week #60: You have just discovered a new lifeform. Write a story of 200 words or more. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by XxFwuffyBunnyxX
The Unknown.
     People say that there are many unknowns in this vast universe that we have barely breathed in with our souls or have seen with our naive eyes. That there are effervescent caves of massive crystals untouched, paths un-walked, or even infinitesimal atoms that have not been investigated under the blurry lenses of microscopes. But what happens if everything was a lie? What if the norm was actually something programmed into our uncomplicated minds? All these speculations gently flowed through my mentality like a soft soothing waterfall in the middle of spring. I knew I was probably misleading myself, at most even confounding myself. But the strong urge of rebellion coursed through my body, gently gnawing at the back of my mind like the awful aftertaste of cough medicine. All in which I sat at my glossy too-perfect white stained table, fingering a small red plastic heart I had received generously for Valentines Day.
      It wasn't that it was hard for me to believe that I had to abide to all these enforced laws, I just had a challenging time believing these so called Natural Beneficial Covenants would actually benefit our system. I mean at times I could accuse myself for not listening submissively to all these modernized constitutions that the organization conjured up for us citizens, but what happens if the things we knew were not of our knowing at all? At times I felt as if a masked society with an ulterior motive was secretly endorsed in the making of these laws. These people would be specially hired just to sprinkle propaganda and twisted facts into the underlying what seemed perfect government regulations.
      I sighed listening to the soft squeaks of my boots under the marble sidewalks as I gingerly walked out of my house, regretting everything I had just reflected on. Of course the organization wouldn't do these kind of things. I was just some crazy intellectual preteen that enjoyed engrossing myself in the future plans of world downfall. The organization were good people I reasoned with myself, nodding my head slightly as the chemical process in my brain sent neurons to transmit my thinking. The people controlling the organization are genuine I reassured myself, as I kept my eyes locked in front of me. Why else would they be in an organization otherwise? I smiled slightly, it was just my stupid brain trying to be analytical and perceptive. On the inside, I truly knew the organization wouldn't do anything close to what I was thinking. I closed my eyes in a relaxed motion and gave an icy breath into the soft wind, as a frail elbow jabbed me into the depths of my ribs.
      I shot the person an enraged look, realizing that the man was wearing a government official badge. The man seemed rushed and poorly unkempt, yelling into a small rectangular phone the size of a note card as he sprinted into a tall skyscraper. I knew that the proper thing to do would be to brush off the meetup and continue on with my life, but the same tingling sensation of rebellion shrewdly slid through my blood. So I followed the government official to what seemed to be hundreds of tiny intricate and polished stairs until I was led to a dark laboratory buzzing with scientists and organization members. I hid low on the corner of a hallway as images quickly flashed through my mind. Pictures of gruesome tentacled monsters with unproportional heads kept in tight glass tanks snapped into my vision. Memories of scientists dissecting wild creatures and imaginary aliens of all shapes and colors were petrified into my soul. I stood crouched in the hallway my body shivering, as I recalled the first law of the Natural Beneficial Covenant.

Citizens may not learn any extra or unnecessary information. For knowing may lead to harsh discipline and is extremely dangerous.
10
2
2
Juice
526 reads
Load 2 Comments
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