Donate coins to Ragnar.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by Ragnar in portal Publishing

ANML

Excerpt of a TNN Debate concerning the ANML (Arena Nanotech Monster League).

Pro ANML Pundit: Look, the bog standard arguments that the ANML combatants can feel pain, or have souls is ludicrous. These are robots that break down the reagents used in the creation phase of the competition determine the characteristics and qualities of the bot. Just because the bot comes away looking like a fierce animal like a Tiger, or a Dragon, or even a harmless one like Proxie's famous... infamous? Killer rabbit doesn't mean that beyond the nanobot skin they aren't hollow.

Anti ANML Pundit: Take me through the Mental vs Guydan Championship Finals, in which Mental's animal seemed to be cowering in the corner and howling in pain, and you can't tell me that wasn't blood. ANML suffered a major loss in viewership during the debacle, and a loss in consumer confidence....

Pro ANML Pundit: That wasn't blood, it was acid, and I wouldn't say they were major, Jane... And Klaxon INC has already...

Anti ANML Pundit: Don't intterupt me! But I'll go ahead and entertain your interruption with facts. 17% of concurrent viewers turned off their televisions during that scene. The battle was far from over. If one in 5 people decides that can't watch your programming at the same time, you don't consider that major? That's pretty myopic. The 100 point drop in the stock market the next day was 33% loss of confidence, that's major. Companies tend to fail after that kind of loss...

Pro ANML Pundit: It was only 89 points...

Anti ANML Pundit: Ohhhh, only 89? That's close enough to 100.

Pro ANML Pundit: Speaking of interruptions.... Regarding Mental vs Guydan Klaxon INC has already shown the fault in the programming of the nanotech, and opensourced the fix to any owners of previous tech. Furthermore, they ran 51 bouts using the exact measurements of reagents and truecounts of nanobots used and found that Mental should have won that bout roughly seven times out of 10. They awarded Guydan the metal, but also awarded Mental and Guydan a winners purse. That sort of care for the people involved and previous iterations of their tech is something the consumer can get behind in the ANML hobby.  Furthermore that "howling in pain" was actually quite a powerful sonic attack that was malfunctioning due to the same programming fault.

Anti ANML Pundit: Then why won't Klaxon INC release the sheet data of the bout Brian? The one evidence set that will help cement your stance.... In fact...

Pro ANML Pundit: We've covered this, it's because it clearly demonstrates a weakness in the technology that is susceptible to attack, Klaxon INC isn't in the business of helping other people hack their products.

Anti ANML Pundit: You're so rude Brian! I wasn't finished. It's also possible the papers are being covered up, and Dr. Meltether, the lead nanotech developer at Klaxon-Seattle's harsh critique of the nanotech and subsequent termination are unrelated I suppose?

Pro ANML Pundit: I can't speak to that Jane, I don't know what happened there.

Anti ANML Pundit: Of course you don't.

Chapter 1

Kevin Jensen Brenton sat on his bed, knobby knees drawn to his chest, wiry arms wrapped around ankles in the sweltering attic of his two story home. His sweat soaked, shaggy hair nearly touched the central beam that formed the slanting peak of the house. The bed was a single person sized bed, that barely fit into the space of the attic. The knobs on the bedposts gouged and knocked against the brown but graying two by eight boards making up the slanted roof of the house that was his ceiling. In order to get to the door and sharp dropping stairs that led into the proper second story of the house he had to crawl through a small triangle that was the ceiling/roof of his house, and the metal arcing footboard of his bed.

Kevin sat praying for two things, rain to cool off his house so he could sleep tonight, and food. Kevin was hungry. He had passed the point of ravenous hunger three days ago, and passed the point of shaking hunger yesterday, and he was at the point of weak hunger, which was a few hours before the point of fading vision hunger.

"Guess I better get to it." He said to himself. Just like his father used to say before starting on a carpeting project. He felt a slight twinge of pain at his fathers untimely death, but he fought through it. He had to win food for himself and Rose, his sister, or they wouldn't eat again tonight. He crawled through the triangle and crumpled onto the rough unfinished board floor spraying motes of dust into the air. When he had a full belly, he liked to think of his bed as a space-ship and the triangle entry into it as a docking port to be navigated through, sort of a passageway into his imagination. Today it was just metal, wood, and hunger. Maybe tonight he'll climb into his spaceship and save the world from invading aliens with a full belly, but right now he was gathering his ANML kit, and heading into the badlands to scavenge for reagents for his nanotech to re purpose and transform into his an animal to fight for he and his sisters mealticket.

Kevin passed through the attic and took a sharp left turn onto finished, but chipped and fading, rich brown finished floor. A flight of 7 stairs down a hallway so narrow he, unthinkingly, had to turn his shoulders to an angle to avoid bruising himself on the white victorian moulding jutting out from ocean blue wall. As he came to the landing, he saw his seven year old sister sitting in her black pajamas with a kittens face made of gold buttons embossed on the front. Her hair was thin and stringy, a sign of the tolls of malnourishment. Even at such a tender age, Rose had a world weary look in her eyes when they weren't full adolescent wonder. She was incredibly creative and intense, but it had been two full days since she had also eaten.

Roses midriff was showing between top and bottom, and she was mindlessly playing with her bellybutton when Kevin came down the stairs at a half stumble.

"Let's go earn some food Rose, get changed."

"I can't get my shirt off, can you help?" she whined.

The pajamas that Rose wore were the size of a 5-6 year old, and even malnourished, she had grown larger than the pajama's were meant to cover. Kevin helped pry her shirt over her head, being careful to tug the shirt around the studs in her ears.

"Ouch! You're pulling my hair" she whined again.

"Sorry sis, we need to get you some new clothes too, huh?" He smiled, trying to hide his turmoil. He only had a few dollars in his pocket, and that was so he could bet on himself in today's ANML match. Even if he won, he couldn't afford clothes too. How a boy of thirteen could end up taking care of, and feeding a seven year old with parents in the house always angered him, but it was no use. His mom was too far gone to take care of them, and his step-dad just didn't care.

They dressed rose in a pair of jeans that still fit, snugly, and an ANML UNDERGROUND! shirt he had gotten from a competition he had done fairly well at 8 months ago. The shirt was big on her, but at least she was covered. Red bleeding letters spelled the word UNDERGROUND! over black background.

"Shirts gonna be hot, Rosey Posey" he smiled and tussled her hair "But at least your wearing one."  He tied the front of the shirt into a knot that hung off her hip and tightened the shirt around her.

They both walked down the stairs quietly and glanced at his mom, Becky, and step-dad, Keith, sitting in their online immersion units. Becky and Keith languished online, playing videogames for roughly eighteen hours a day, it was rare that either of them thought to take care of themselves, let alone take care of the kids. Ever since his dad had died, his mom seemed to only log out once every two weeks to spend her wellfare check on some food before logging back in. That was the last time they ate, 3 days after the wellfare check was spent. Keith didn't spend as much time logged on, but he simply didn't care to take care of the kids. Kevin winced as he saw a rotting half-eaten sandwich sitting next to his mom on the console of the immersion unit.

"Goddamn" he grunted.

"Kevin!" Rose shot at him. "My ears!" She loved to tease her brother about his cussing.

"I know, just... nothing" He couldn't bear to tell his sister, that food was being wasted in a house they were starving in.

They opened the door, and the storm door squeaked open, and clattered behind them as it slammed shut. The heat was oppressive, and the drought had rendered even the most professionally manicured lawns to yellow and brown fields of stubble. What had once been a lush green lawn was now a gravel field in front of Keith's house, Kevin kicked a few rocks off of the crumbling sidewalk as they approached the chain link fence that barred their home from the street.

As they were passing through the fence gate, the window to the room the online immersion units were in flew open and Keith poked his head out. Thowing a shoe aimed at the kids, it careened wide and bounced off of the fence into the rocks.

"You fucking kids better goddamn stop slamming my door!" He screamed. "I'm so tired of you little shits not taking care of my house! You're lucky I love your mom."

"Sorry Keith" Kevin rolled his eyes as he tried to placate his step-dad.

"Sorry's not gonna cut it! I want the kitchen and the dishes clean by the end of the day." Some money dribbled out of the window on to the ground "Here's 10 bucks, I want a pizza from the corner store for supper tonight. Bring it back after you get done fucking around with your stupid ANML shit."

A weaker, feminine voice leaked through the window past Keith as Rose walked back to under the window to get the money off the rocks. "Honey, be nice to the kids, they're still young."

Keith's voice honeyed for a moment as he talked back to her, saying a few things that Kevin couldn't understand.

Rose yelled through the window "Love you mommy! We'll be back soon!" As Keith was talking. His arm shot throught he window and snatched Rose by the shirt.

"Don't interrupt me again." His voice was low, and fire filled his eyes.

"Love you too honey, have fun out there." their mother's voice drifted off even as she spoke, something in the game she was playing seemed more important.

Keith shook Rose for a moment before having another inaudible conversation inside the house, pushing Rose away as he shouted "Wait for me!" clattering to get back into his immersion unit.

Roses tanned skin was a few shades lighter as she tried to maintain composure in the face of being threatened by Keith, tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

Kevin hugged her tightly. "Don't waste your tears, it's energy we don't have to waste. Let's get out to the bads, maybe the wild onions will be ready!"

Rose twisted her face, she was hungry, "But I hate onions..." she said quietly.

The walk was mostly silent as they walked a few blocks to the edge of the city. It was nice living on the outskirts of city, being able to take a left out of his front door and walk for three minutes up the road as it transitioned from asphault to gravel to the large white and red diagonally striped End Of Road sign. Beyond that laid great orange and red sand badlands dotted by sagebrush and cactus, and a fantastic collection of insects gathered around a relatively easy to navigate creek.

Kevin picked Rose up under her arm-pits and lifted her over the fenceline before climbing over it himself.

"I really want to find a scorpion, a grasshopper, and a roly-poly bug today squirt" Keith mandated "Good armor, and a jumping poison harpoon attack will really surprise everyone, especially since I've been doing a lot of low attack and pinch attacks lately. It should be an easy win"

"I hear Brian the Brain is going to be there, I hope you get him, he's an easy win." She chirped back. Her spirits were already lifting, even in the oven-like heat.

"I don't know, he's got a lot of money to throw at this stuff, one day he's just going to be better." Kevin half believed what he was saying. Today probably wasn't that day, though.

"But you always beat him, Kev, always." Rose looked at her brother with love and respect smeared across her face. She was right, he hadn't lost to Brian yet, and Brian was pretty terrible, but it made no sense to be cocky.

"Stick with the gameplan, squirt"

They walked to the trickling creek moving away from the city and started paying attention to the wildlife. It took no time at all to drive out hundreds of grasshoppers. Cottony wings aided panicked jumps creating a clicking rattling sound as they hopped away from danger. Rose sang silly songs as she chased the grasshoppers along the dried up creek bed. While the creek was drying up this late in the summer, a nice rainstorm had brought a rush of water through, and there were several pools in some of the wider spots. Several of the grasshoppers that hopped into the pools found themselves stuck in the water and were easy to snatch and place in holding containers.

After they had cought a dozen or so grasshoppers, they turned their attention to wide, flat rocks along the most barren areas with the least vegetation. Scorpions and Roly-Poly bugs would both be under rocks like these, and it wasn't long before Kevin found a hutch of several of these bugs and a few larvae.

Rose was several yards away, moving flat rocks with a long stick, when Keith heard a more distinct rattle. His head snapped to his left and he saw Rose only a foot from a rattlesnake! She was coiled, ready to strike and incredibly pissed this human was near her hutch.

"Don't move" he said slowly, I'm coming around.

"Kev, help" she pleaded.

"Just, don't" he commanded again. He slowly drew his pocketknife and worked his way around behind her, holding it just above her shoulder.

"What are you doing Kev, I don't wanna get bitten, we're too far from town" Her voice was shaken and raspy.

"It'll be ok. when I say 3, I want you to fall limp and fall backwards, ok?"

Rose gently nodded as Kevin wrapped his arm around Rose. The rattling was getting more intense. A sign the Snake was tired of the interaction and getting ready to make a decision.

Kevin took a moment to panic, and then gather himself.

"1, 2" he shuddered "3!" He flicked the knife at the rattlesnakes head, and pushed backwards with his feet throwing Rose behind him. The rattlesnake lunged and snatched, then recoiled and snatched at the ground, again and again. Each strike becoming weaker and weaker, pounding against the ground with the pocket knife blade entering the mouth, and sticking directly out of the back of her head.

Kevin worked quickly, pulling the knife back out of the snakes mouth, cutting the head off of the snake, and gutting and peeling the snake efficiently. Rose sat on the ground sobbing, rubbing her head and pulling a few cactus needles out of her shoulder. Kevin felt bad for a moment, but this snake was a huge score! The fangs will be far more effective than the Scorpion's tail, and they could cook the snake meat! He opened the tacklebox that he had turned into his ANML kit and lifted a single Sterno can out of it. After lighting the fuel he took some distilled water and rinsed the snake meat before taking a few metal mixing rods and skewering snake over it. In less than 10 minutes they were eating charred snake meat.

"This doesn't taste like chicken" Rose giggled. It was the first real smile she'd delivered all day.

After they ate, they packed their reagents and headed back into town. The walk to the ANML arena was a good 45 minutes, and they made good time. Several matches had been going on all day, and just outside the doorway Brian the Brain stood outside a great tan warehouse waving them in.

"Hey there DangerX" he called Kevin by his dueling name "God that's a stupid name, how old were you when you picked that turd?"

"Shut it, Brain boy." Kevin popped Brian in the shoulder as they walked through the entrance together. They were competitive friends, in that they would probably never talk on the outside of an ANML arena, but they routinely matched against eachother because they were in the same competitive range.

"Gonna whip you today, bitch" Brian poked again.

"Right, just like the last 8 times?" Kevin fired back. "Your mom buy you some new Nano's?"

"Even better, but you're not going to find out till I've crushed you" Brian used his hand, and crumpled a soda can to emphasize the word crush. The aluminum popping and tearing as it collapsed gave theatrics to an otherwise hollow statement.

"We'll see" Kevin rolled his eyes. He had energy, and it was easy to deal with Brian's shit today. If he were still hungry, this conversation would have gone a lot differently.

Kevin pulled the betting money out of his pocket and handed it to Rose. "You know the drill, put it on me to win before round 3." Rose smiled and nodded and walked away.

Brian put his arm around Kevin and corralled him towards the registration booth as Rose walked up to the betting desk. It took a few scant moments to sign up. The guy running the booth was scrawny and lanky.

"Hey Beanpole" Brian cajoled. "You ever gonna get back in the ring again?"

James "Beanpole" Ranson snorted. "Tell you what, you learn how to beat DangerX here a few times in a row, and I'll think about it. You're just a waste of my time right now."

Beanpole was a former National ANML circuit contender. Having retired amid a reagent scandal, he ran underground ANML duels as a hobby, and seemed just content to cruise from day to day on his riches from a few nanotech contracts that still used his images in their adverstising.

"Beat the whimsy out of this kid, eh?" Beanpole smirked at Kevin. You guys are on in ten minutes, creation phase in five. Arena 2.

There were 3 arena's in this battle location, and Kevin surveyed the location for the hundredth time. The warehouse was dirty, with graffiti covering nearly every square inch of once fading white interior. The floors were hardened, chip resistant concrete, that had been hastily swept prior to laying down the arena boundaries themselves.  Dust hung in the air through shafts of sunlight that peeked through the rusted metal roof.

The arena itself was the mechanism that gave life to the nanobots inside. There was a central combat ring, on opposite sides of the ring, smaller ANML creation circles created an arena boundary that looked like a bulbous cartoon nose viewed from directly ahead.

Brian sat crosslegged on the floor and unfolded his tacklebox. Rose sat down next to him crosslegged and jammed the gambling ticket into her pocket.

"I get to pick the color!" she mused.

Kevin ignored her as she picked the color vials out of the box and began attempting to mix a bright pink hue. He arranged the reagents on an ANML guidepad to make sure he didn't forget any crucial ingredients. Reaching into his tacklebox, he grabbed the snakes head, and his pliers, and carefully plied the snake's fang, from the head. Venom sack pulled free with the fang and dangled from his pliers dripping yellow ichor. He laid it on the "weapon" section of the ANML guidepad. Next he grabbed a couple of grasshoppers and pulled the strong jumping legs off of the hoppers as he grimaced, and placed them onto the pad."

"So barbaric" Brian teased as he poured fine white powders from glass bottles onto his own guide pad.

"Not all of us have parents who think they can buy our love with refined reagents, asshat" Kevin's anger was real. He wasn't a fan of torturing animals, but this was the hand he was dealt, he was making the best of it.

Next Kevin pulled the roly poly bug's body shells off after dispatching it with his pocketknive. arranging them in the "armor" section of his guidepad. Finally he added a few powders for strength, and extended nanolife to the mix before taking a fist sized silver ball out of a velveteen bag and placing it squarely in the middle of the pad. A magnet in the pad held the ball in place in the middle, as Brian took out a dark pearlized black ball and placed it on his own pad.

The creation phase was almost up, and a 1 minute warning alarm went off, as Beanpole stood in the middle of the battle arena.

"We have DangerX versus Brian the Brain in this Arena! Battle to the death of the animal, class 3 battle! If I see any Class 2 or above reagents or activities, you will be disqualified, capiche gentlemen?" Kevin and Brian stood up and walked to the center of the ring and shook hands.

"Agreed" they said in unison.

"Good luck" Kevin emphasized the word luck.

"You need it this time DangerX" Brian winked back.

The creators placed their pads in their designated arena circle and stepped away from the arena. Beanpole stepped on a footpad that had a long wire attached to the arena, and a spotlight beamed down on the center of the ring.

In Kevin's creation ring, the silver ball began to dissolve into a liquid and spread out over the whole of the pad, waves and vibrations moved over the the quicksilver puddle as nanobots sprung to life and began to swirl and form a vortex arcing blue electricity between millions of tiny bots. Brian's ring did roughly the same, except the puddle and bots were shiny black and the electric arcs were a brilliant color of red.

The battling creatures took shape, and Kevin realized quickly this would be no easy task. Rose began to cheer and several dozen people gathered around to see this fight.

Kevin's animal retained the strong grashopper legs both front and back, with an elongated body and a single stinger on the bottom center of its greyish belly.  Cream white and pink shells protected its back, and a single black shiny eye formed on the front below a mouth full of fangs and teeth.

Brian's animal was lizardlike, orange and firely yellow with a thick shell and four sturdy legs, with 2 great crabclaws for arms. It was incredibly low to the ground and the most worrying part about the animal was a great tail with a gigantic bone ball on the end clearly intended to crush the victim. Brian usually had some hairbrained idea that involved trying to rely on some gimick instead of putting together a solid fighter. This, on the other hand was a serious problem, because the injector needle on Kevin's animal would need to pierce a relatively thick shell on the back of a Brian's animal.

The creatures moved to the center of the ring, Kevin's hopping in and dancing left and right, baring great fangs, Brian's animal raised its flared claws into the air and pounded its tail on the ground menacingly as it slowly shambled into the center of the ring.

"We've got to outlast this one Rose, hopefully we're too fast, and it can't catch us, there's a lot going on, so we should run out of batteries last." Rose saw it too and fell to the ground on her bottom. They were simply out matched. She screamed and wailed urging their animal on.

But the match didn't last long.

Kevin's animal lept into the air, going for a quick kill aiming belly needle at the head of Brian's lizardturtlecrab. It landed directly into crab claws, both claws piched against Kevin's creations legs and began to smash the body of the Grasshoppersnake brutally. It took only three good smashes before all of Kevin's nanobots dissolved into a puddle and regrouped into the metallic sphere.

Brian threw his arms up into the air and cheered loudly. "Hah! Gotchya fucker!"

Kevin looked down and saw tears streaming down Roses face.

"Rose, it's not that bad hun. We'll be fine. Let's pack up and go buy Keith's stupid Pizza."

Roses eyes were red and obviously stinging as diamonds fell to the ground. she pulled the ticket out of her pocket.

"Kevin, I messed up. I bet Keith's ten dollar bill along with all of our money that you'd beat Brian. You always beat Brian."

5
4
2
Juice
39 reads
Donate coins to Ragnar.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by Ragnar in portal Publishing
ANML
Excerpt of a TNN Debate concerning the ANML (Arena Nanotech Monster League).

Pro ANML Pundit: Look, the bog standard arguments that the ANML combatants can feel pain, or have souls is ludicrous. These are robots that break down the reagents used in the creation phase of the competition determine the characteristics and qualities of the bot. Just because the bot comes away looking like a fierce animal like a Tiger, or a Dragon, or even a harmless one like Proxie's famous... infamous? Killer rabbit doesn't mean that beyond the nanobot skin they aren't hollow.

Anti ANML Pundit: Take me through the Mental vs Guydan Championship Finals, in which Mental's animal seemed to be cowering in the corner and howling in pain, and you can't tell me that wasn't blood. ANML suffered a major loss in viewership during the debacle, and a loss in consumer confidence....

Pro ANML Pundit: That wasn't blood, it was acid, and I wouldn't say they were major, Jane... And Klaxon INC has already...

Anti ANML Pundit: Don't intterupt me! But I'll go ahead and entertain your interruption with facts. 17% of concurrent viewers turned off their televisions during that scene. The battle was far from over. If one in 5 people decides that can't watch your programming at the same time, you don't consider that major? That's pretty myopic. The 100 point drop in the stock market the next day was 33% loss of confidence, that's major. Companies tend to fail after that kind of loss...

Pro ANML Pundit: It was only 89 points...

Anti ANML Pundit: Ohhhh, only 89? That's close enough to 100.

Pro ANML Pundit: Speaking of interruptions.... Regarding Mental vs Guydan Klaxon INC has already shown the fault in the programming of the nanotech, and opensourced the fix to any owners of previous tech. Furthermore, they ran 51 bouts using the exact measurements of reagents and truecounts of nanobots used and found that Mental should have won that bout roughly seven times out of 10. They awarded Guydan the metal, but also awarded Mental and Guydan a winners purse. That sort of care for the people involved and previous iterations of their tech is something the consumer can get behind in the ANML hobby.  Furthermore that "howling in pain" was actually quite a powerful sonic attack that was malfunctioning due to the same programming fault.

Anti ANML Pundit: Then why won't Klaxon INC release the sheet data of the bout Brian? The one evidence set that will help cement your stance.... In fact...

Pro ANML Pundit: We've covered this, it's because it clearly demonstrates a weakness in the technology that is susceptible to attack, Klaxon INC isn't in the business of helping other people hack their products.

Anti ANML Pundit: You're so rude Brian! I wasn't finished. It's also possible the papers are being covered up, and Dr. Meltether, the lead nanotech developer at Klaxon-Seattle's harsh critique of the nanotech and subsequent termination are unrelated I suppose?

Pro ANML Pundit: I can't speak to that Jane, I don't know what happened there.

Anti ANML Pundit: Of course you don't.


Chapter 1
Kevin Jensen Brenton sat on his bed, knobby knees drawn to his chest, wiry arms wrapped around ankles in the sweltering attic of his two story home. His sweat soaked, shaggy hair nearly touched the central beam that formed the slanting peak of the house. The bed was a single person sized bed, that barely fit into the space of the attic. The knobs on the bedposts gouged and knocked against the brown but graying two by eight boards making up the slanted roof of the house that was his ceiling. In order to get to the door and sharp dropping stairs that led into the proper second story of the house he had to crawl through a small triangle that was the ceiling/roof of his house, and the metal arcing footboard of his bed.

Kevin sat praying for two things, rain to cool off his house so he could sleep tonight, and food. Kevin was hungry. He had passed the point of ravenous hunger three days ago, and passed the point of shaking hunger yesterday, and he was at the point of weak hunger, which was a few hours before the point of fading vision hunger.

"Guess I better get to it." He said to himself. Just like his father used to say before starting on a carpeting project. He felt a slight twinge of pain at his fathers untimely death, but he fought through it. He had to win food for himself and Rose, his sister, or they wouldn't eat again tonight. He crawled through the triangle and crumpled onto the rough unfinished board floor spraying motes of dust into the air. When he had a full belly, he liked to think of his bed as a space-ship and the triangle entry into it as a docking port to be navigated through, sort of a passageway into his imagination. Today it was just metal, wood, and hunger. Maybe tonight he'll climb into his spaceship and save the world from invading aliens with a full belly, but right now he was gathering his ANML kit, and heading into the badlands to scavenge for reagents for his nanotech to re purpose and transform into his an animal to fight for he and his sisters mealticket.

Kevin passed through the attic and took a sharp left turn onto finished, but chipped and fading, rich brown finished floor. A flight of 7 stairs down a hallway so narrow he, unthinkingly, had to turn his shoulders to an angle to avoid bruising himself on the white victorian moulding jutting out from ocean blue wall. As he came to the landing, he saw his seven year old sister sitting in her black pajamas with a kittens face made of gold buttons embossed on the front. Her hair was thin and stringy, a sign of the tolls of malnourishment. Even at such a tender age, Rose had a world weary look in her eyes when they weren't full adolescent wonder. She was incredibly creative and intense, but it had been two full days since she had also eaten.

Roses midriff was showing between top and bottom, and she was mindlessly playing with her bellybutton when Kevin came down the stairs at a half stumble.
"Let's go earn some food Rose, get changed."

"I can't get my shirt off, can you help?" she whined.

The pajamas that Rose wore were the size of a 5-6 year old, and even malnourished, she had grown larger than the pajama's were meant to cover. Kevin helped pry her shirt over her head, being careful to tug the shirt around the studs in her ears.

"Ouch! You're pulling my hair" she whined again.

"Sorry sis, we need to get you some new clothes too, huh?" He smiled, trying to hide his turmoil. He only had a few dollars in his pocket, and that was so he could bet on himself in today's ANML match. Even if he won, he couldn't afford clothes too. How a boy of thirteen could end up taking care of, and feeding a seven year old with parents in the house always angered him, but it was no use. His mom was too far gone to take care of them, and his step-dad just didn't care.

They dressed rose in a pair of jeans that still fit, snugly, and an ANML UNDERGROUND! shirt he had gotten from a competition he had done fairly well at 8 months ago. The shirt was big on her, but at least she was covered. Red bleeding letters spelled the word UNDERGROUND! over black background.

"Shirts gonna be hot, Rosey Posey" he smiled and tussled her hair "But at least your wearing one."  He tied the front of the shirt into a knot that hung off her hip and tightened the shirt around her.

They both walked down the stairs quietly and glanced at his mom, Becky, and step-dad, Keith, sitting in their online immersion units. Becky and Keith languished online, playing videogames for roughly eighteen hours a day, it was rare that either of them thought to take care of themselves, let alone take care of the kids. Ever since his dad had died, his mom seemed to only log out once every two weeks to spend her wellfare check on some food before logging back in. That was the last time they ate, 3 days after the wellfare check was spent. Keith didn't spend as much time logged on, but he simply didn't care to take care of the kids. Kevin winced as he saw a rotting half-eaten sandwich sitting next to his mom on the console of the immersion unit.

"Goddamn" he grunted.

"Kevin!" Rose shot at him. "My ears!" She loved to tease her brother about his cussing.

"I know, just... nothing" He couldn't bear to tell his sister, that food was being wasted in a house they were starving in.

They opened the door, and the storm door squeaked open, and clattered behind them as it slammed shut. The heat was oppressive, and the drought had rendered even the most professionally manicured lawns to yellow and brown fields of stubble. What had once been a lush green lawn was now a gravel field in front of Keith's house, Kevin kicked a few rocks off of the crumbling sidewalk as they approached the chain link fence that barred their home from the street.

As they were passing through the fence gate, the window to the room the online immersion units were in flew open and Keith poked his head out. Thowing a shoe aimed at the kids, it careened wide and bounced off of the fence into the rocks.

"You fucking kids better goddamn stop slamming my door!" He screamed. "I'm so tired of you little shits not taking care of my house! You're lucky I love your mom."

"Sorry Keith" Kevin rolled his eyes as he tried to placate his step-dad.

"Sorry's not gonna cut it! I want the kitchen and the dishes clean by the end of the day." Some money dribbled out of the window on to the ground "Here's 10 bucks, I want a pizza from the corner store for supper tonight. Bring it back after you get done fucking around with your stupid ANML shit."

A weaker, feminine voice leaked through the window past Keith as Rose walked back to under the window to get the money off the rocks. "Honey, be nice to the kids, they're still young."

Keith's voice honeyed for a moment as he talked back to her, saying a few things that Kevin couldn't understand.

Rose yelled through the window "Love you mommy! We'll be back soon!" As Keith was talking. His arm shot throught he window and snatched Rose by the shirt.

"Don't interrupt me again." His voice was low, and fire filled his eyes.

"Love you too honey, have fun out there." their mother's voice drifted off even as she spoke, something in the game she was playing seemed more important.

Keith shook Rose for a moment before having another inaudible conversation inside the house, pushing Rose away as he shouted "Wait for me!" clattering to get back into his immersion unit.

Roses tanned skin was a few shades lighter as she tried to maintain composure in the face of being threatened by Keith, tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

Kevin hugged her tightly. "Don't waste your tears, it's energy we don't have to waste. Let's get out to the bads, maybe the wild onions will be ready!"

Rose twisted her face, she was hungry, "But I hate onions..." she said quietly.

The walk was mostly silent as they walked a few blocks to the edge of the city. It was nice living on the outskirts of city, being able to take a left out of his front door and walk for three minutes up the road as it transitioned from asphault to gravel to the large white and red diagonally striped End Of Road sign. Beyond that laid great orange and red sand badlands dotted by sagebrush and cactus, and a fantastic collection of insects gathered around a relatively easy to navigate creek.

Kevin picked Rose up under her arm-pits and lifted her over the fenceline before climbing over it himself.

"I really want to find a scorpion, a grasshopper, and a roly-poly bug today squirt" Keith mandated "Good armor, and a jumping poison harpoon attack will really surprise everyone, especially since I've been doing a lot of low attack and pinch attacks lately. It should be an easy win"

"I hear Brian the Brain is going to be there, I hope you get him, he's an easy win." She chirped back. Her spirits were already lifting, even in the oven-like heat.

"I don't know, he's got a lot of money to throw at this stuff, one day he's just going to be better." Kevin half believed what he was saying. Today probably wasn't that day, though.

"But you always beat him, Kev, always." Rose looked at her brother with love and respect smeared across her face. She was right, he hadn't lost to Brian yet, and Brian was pretty terrible, but it made no sense to be cocky.

"Stick with the gameplan, squirt"

They walked to the trickling creek moving away from the city and started paying attention to the wildlife. It took no time at all to drive out hundreds of grasshoppers. Cottony wings aided panicked jumps creating a clicking rattling sound as they hopped away from danger. Rose sang silly songs as she chased the grasshoppers along the dried up creek bed. While the creek was drying up this late in the summer, a nice rainstorm had brought a rush of water through, and there were several pools in some of the wider spots. Several of the grasshoppers that hopped into the pools found themselves stuck in the water and were easy to snatch and place in holding containers.

After they had cought a dozen or so grasshoppers, they turned their attention to wide, flat rocks along the most barren areas with the least vegetation. Scorpions and Roly-Poly bugs would both be under rocks like these, and it wasn't long before Kevin found a hutch of several of these bugs and a few larvae.

Rose was several yards away, moving flat rocks with a long stick, when Keith heard a more distinct rattle. His head snapped to his left and he saw Rose only a foot from a rattlesnake! She was coiled, ready to strike and incredibly pissed this human was near her hutch.

"Don't move" he said slowly, I'm coming around.

"Kev, help" she pleaded.

"Just, don't" he commanded again. He slowly drew his pocketknife and worked his way around behind her, holding it just above her shoulder.

"What are you doing Kev, I don't wanna get bitten, we're too far from town" Her voice was shaken and raspy.

"It'll be ok. when I say 3, I want you to fall limp and fall backwards, ok?"

Rose gently nodded as Kevin wrapped his arm around Rose. The rattling was getting more intense. A sign the Snake was tired of the interaction and getting ready to make a decision.

Kevin took a moment to panic, and then gather himself.

"1, 2" he shuddered "3!" He flicked the knife at the rattlesnakes head, and pushed backwards with his feet throwing Rose behind him. The rattlesnake lunged and snatched, then recoiled and snatched at the ground, again and again. Each strike becoming weaker and weaker, pounding against the ground with the pocket knife blade entering the mouth, and sticking directly out of the back of her head.

Kevin worked quickly, pulling the knife back out of the snakes mouth, cutting the head off of the snake, and gutting and peeling the snake efficiently. Rose sat on the ground sobbing, rubbing her head and pulling a few cactus needles out of her shoulder. Kevin felt bad for a moment, but this snake was a huge score! The fangs will be far more effective than the Scorpion's tail, and they could cook the snake meat! He opened the tacklebox that he had turned into his ANML kit and lifted a single Sterno can out of it. After lighting the fuel he took some distilled water and rinsed the snake meat before taking a few metal mixing rods and skewering snake over it. In less than 10 minutes they were eating charred snake meat.

"This doesn't taste like chicken" Rose giggled. It was the first real smile she'd delivered all day.

After they ate, they packed their reagents and headed back into town. The walk to the ANML arena was a good 45 minutes, and they made good time. Several matches had been going on all day, and just outside the doorway Brian the Brain stood outside a great tan warehouse waving them in.

"Hey there DangerX" he called Kevin by his dueling name "God that's a stupid name, how old were you when you picked that turd?"

"Shut it, Brain boy." Kevin popped Brian in the shoulder as they walked through the entrance together. They were competitive friends, in that they would probably never talk on the outside of an ANML arena, but they routinely matched against eachother because they were in the same competitive range.

"Gonna whip you today, bitch" Brian poked again.

"Right, just like the last 8 times?" Kevin fired back. "Your mom buy you some new Nano's?"

"Even better, but you're not going to find out till I've crushed you" Brian used his hand, and crumpled a soda can to emphasize the word crush. The aluminum popping and tearing as it collapsed gave theatrics to an otherwise hollow statement.

"We'll see" Kevin rolled his eyes. He had energy, and it was easy to deal with Brian's shit today. If he were still hungry, this conversation would have gone a lot differently.

Kevin pulled the betting money out of his pocket and handed it to Rose. "You know the drill, put it on me to win before round 3." Rose smiled and nodded and walked away.

Brian put his arm around Kevin and corralled him towards the registration booth as Rose walked up to the betting desk. It took a few scant moments to sign up. The guy running the booth was scrawny and lanky.

"Hey Beanpole" Brian cajoled. "You ever gonna get back in the ring again?"

James "Beanpole" Ranson snorted. "Tell you what, you learn how to beat DangerX here a few times in a row, and I'll think about it. You're just a waste of my time right now."

Beanpole was a former National ANML circuit contender. Having retired amid a reagent scandal, he ran underground ANML duels as a hobby, and seemed just content to cruise from day to day on his riches from a few nanotech contracts that still used his images in their adverstising.

"Beat the whimsy out of this kid, eh?" Beanpole smirked at Kevin. You guys are on in ten minutes, creation phase in five. Arena 2.

There were 3 arena's in this battle location, and Kevin surveyed the location for the hundredth time. The warehouse was dirty, with graffiti covering nearly every square inch of once fading white interior. The floors were hardened, chip resistant concrete, that had been hastily swept prior to laying down the arena boundaries themselves.  Dust hung in the air through shafts of sunlight that peeked through the rusted metal roof.

The arena itself was the mechanism that gave life to the nanobots inside. There was a central combat ring, on opposite sides of the ring, smaller ANML creation circles created an arena boundary that looked like a bulbous cartoon nose viewed from directly ahead.
Brian sat crosslegged on the floor and unfolded his tacklebox. Rose sat down next to him crosslegged and jammed the gambling ticket into her pocket.

"I get to pick the color!" she mused.

Kevin ignored her as she picked the color vials out of the box and began attempting to mix a bright pink hue. He arranged the reagents on an ANML guidepad to make sure he didn't forget any crucial ingredients. Reaching into his tacklebox, he grabbed the snakes head, and his pliers, and carefully plied the snake's fang, from the head. Venom sack pulled free with the fang and dangled from his pliers dripping yellow ichor. He laid it on the "weapon" section of the ANML guidepad. Next he grabbed a couple of grasshoppers and pulled the strong jumping legs off of the hoppers as he grimaced, and placed them onto the pad."

"So barbaric" Brian teased as he poured fine white powders from glass bottles onto his own guide pad.

"Not all of us have parents who think they can buy our love with refined reagents, asshat" Kevin's anger was real. He wasn't a fan of torturing animals, but this was the hand he was dealt, he was making the best of it.

Next Kevin pulled the roly poly bug's body shells off after dispatching it with his pocketknive. arranging them in the "armor" section of his guidepad. Finally he added a few powders for strength, and extended nanolife to the mix before taking a fist sized silver ball out of a velveteen bag and placing it squarely in the middle of the pad. A magnet in the pad held the ball in place in the middle, as Brian took out a dark pearlized black ball and placed it on his own pad.

The creation phase was almost up, and a 1 minute warning alarm went off, as Beanpole stood in the middle of the battle arena.

"We have DangerX versus Brian the Brain in this Arena! Battle to the death of the animal, class 3 battle! If I see any Class 2 or above reagents or activities, you will be disqualified, capiche gentlemen?" Kevin and Brian stood up and walked to the center of the ring and shook hands.

"Agreed" they said in unison.

"Good luck" Kevin emphasized the word luck.

"You need it this time DangerX" Brian winked back.

The creators placed their pads in their designated arena circle and stepped away from the arena. Beanpole stepped on a footpad that had a long wire attached to the arena, and a spotlight beamed down on the center of the ring.

In Kevin's creation ring, the silver ball began to dissolve into a liquid and spread out over the whole of the pad, waves and vibrations moved over the the quicksilver puddle as nanobots sprung to life and began to swirl and form a vortex arcing blue electricity between millions of tiny bots. Brian's ring did roughly the same, except the puddle and bots were shiny black and the electric arcs were a brilliant color of red.

The battling creatures took shape, and Kevin realized quickly this would be no easy task. Rose began to cheer and several dozen people gathered around to see this fight.

Kevin's animal retained the strong grashopper legs both front and back, with an elongated body and a single stinger on the bottom center of its greyish belly.  Cream white and pink shells protected its back, and a single black shiny eye formed on the front below a mouth full of fangs and teeth.

Brian's animal was lizardlike, orange and firely yellow with a thick shell and four sturdy legs, with 2 great crabclaws for arms. It was incredibly low to the ground and the most worrying part about the animal was a great tail with a gigantic bone ball on the end clearly intended to crush the victim. Brian usually had some hairbrained idea that involved trying to rely on some gimick instead of putting together a solid fighter. This, on the other hand was a serious problem, because the injector needle on Kevin's animal would need to pierce a relatively thick shell on the back of a Brian's animal.

The creatures moved to the center of the ring, Kevin's hopping in and dancing left and right, baring great fangs, Brian's animal raised its flared claws into the air and pounded its tail on the ground menacingly as it slowly shambled into the center of the ring.

"We've got to outlast this one Rose, hopefully we're too fast, and it can't catch us, there's a lot going on, so we should run out of batteries last." Rose saw it too and fell to the ground on her bottom. They were simply out matched. She screamed and wailed urging their animal on.

But the match didn't last long.

Kevin's animal lept into the air, going for a quick kill aiming belly needle at the head of Brian's lizardturtlecrab. It landed directly into crab claws, both claws piched against Kevin's creations legs and began to smash the body of the Grasshoppersnake brutally. It took only three good smashes before all of Kevin's nanobots dissolved into a puddle and regrouped into the metallic sphere.

Brian threw his arms up into the air and cheered loudly. "Hah! Gotchya fucker!"

Kevin looked down and saw tears streaming down Roses face.

"Rose, it's not that bad hun. We'll be fine. Let's pack up and go buy Keith's stupid Pizza."
Roses eyes were red and obviously stinging as diamonds fell to the ground. she pulled the ticket out of her pocket.

"Kevin, I messed up. I bet Keith's ten dollar bill along with all of our money that you'd beat Brian. You always beat Brian."


5
4
2
Juice
39 reads
Load 2 Comments
Login to post comments.
Advertisement  (turn off)
Donate coins to Bgaines.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by Bgaines in portal Publishing

The Fatal Door

My hand trembles on the doorknob. A simple turn and I am dead. A simple turn and this tortuous battle within my soul will be over. It won't matter anymore what I think of my society because I won't be allowed to think. Or speak. Or love. Or be loved in return. 

     As shame and exhaustion mix the poison spilling hot and salty from my eyes, I lean my head against the door and weep. 

     "This is wrong," I mutter to its unfeeling wood. 

     On the black screens of my closed eyelids, I see one face, my brother's face, wailing in terror that he will never see me again. I groan, sagging under the weight of such responsibility. 

     I cannot fail.

     Those three words prop up my spine. I push myself back from the door of death and cross the room to its opposite. I keep my eyes straight, passing Infi like I would pass any fawlin, without a single glance to say, "I see you. I know you're alive. I know you've been wronged. I know you're no different from me."

     The doorknob turns in my hand. Quick and easy and without protest, the door opens into me. It's eager to gobble me back into society's heartless fold, but I can't take that next step. The step that will lower the curtain once again into place and remove me a comfortable distance from the truth of the fawlin. All, that Infi has shared with me, dies the moment I cross this line. No one outside this door will care who she was. I alone will become the tomb of her life story.

     "Go Gemma. Let me save you."

     Her selfless words propel my feet forward and the line is crossed. The door of my continuing life slams shut before I can say goodbye. I am back in the world I know. A world that doesn't accept the fawlin as living people. 

(This is an excerpt from my current WIP, a soulful dystopian set in a Regency-like era.)

0
0
0
Juice
8 reads
Donate coins to Bgaines.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by Bgaines in portal Publishing
The Fatal Door
My hand trembles on the doorknob. A simple turn and I am dead. A simple turn and this tortuous battle within my soul will be over. It won't matter anymore what I think of my society because I won't be allowed to think. Or speak. Or love. Or be loved in return. 
     As shame and exhaustion mix the poison spilling hot and salty from my eyes, I lean my head against the door and weep. 
     "This is wrong," I mutter to its unfeeling wood. 
     On the black screens of my closed eyelids, I see one face, my brother's face, wailing in terror that he will never see me again. I groan, sagging under the weight of such responsibility. 
     I cannot fail.
     Those three words prop up my spine. I push myself back from the door of death and cross the room to its opposite. I keep my eyes straight, passing Infi like I would pass any fawlin, without a single glance to say, "I see you. I know you're alive. I know you've been wronged. I know you're no different from me."
     The doorknob turns in my hand. Quick and easy and without protest, the door opens into me. It's eager to gobble me back into society's heartless fold, but I can't take that next step. The step that will lower the curtain once again into place and remove me a comfortable distance from the truth of the fawlin. All, that Infi has shared with me, dies the moment I cross this line. No one outside this door will care who she was. I alone will become the tomb of her life story.
     "Go Gemma. Let me save you."
     Her selfless words propel my feet forward and the line is crossed. The door of my continuing life slams shut before I can say goodbye. I am back in the world I know. A world that doesn't accept the fawlin as living people. 

(This is an excerpt from my current WIP, a soulful dystopian set in a Regency-like era.)



0
0
0
Juice
8 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Stephanie.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by Stephanie in portal Publishing

Rain and Cigarettes

I came home smelling like rain and cigarette smoke and teenage love and my mother grabbed me and said "you better not fall in love" and so I smiled and touched your number that you had slipped in my pocket earlier that day when you said that you were 32 degrees Fahrenheit and I was the sun and I could melt you with my fingertips.

I came home smelling like a hurricane and tequila and lemonade and the lavender flower you tucked behind my ear the night before and the way your shirt hung off of me, lopsided, almost like we were. My mother said to me "you better not fall in love" and I twirled the cheap necklace between my fingers and I smiled to myself, the clasp was broken but I could still feel your cold fingers as you tickled my neck when you first put it on me.

I came home smelling like thunderstorms and fire and breakup songs and rose thorns and cheap vodka that would make me throw up blood and smudged makeup. And the girl you chose had laughed and said ti would always be her and never me. And my mother just looked at me with pity.

For four months I smelled like overcast drizzles and fog and cheap takeout pizza and dirty clothes and tear stains on pillows and broken songs about love. I hadn't left the house since you left. And my mother stayed outside my room to make sure I stayed alive through the night while I cried myself to sleep.

Three weeks later I met a boy who wasn't so cold and gave me some inner peace and offered me his shirt so I could sleep in and hold tight and smell his scent lingering on it when I missed him. And I came home smelling like fresh rain after a long drought and clean laundry and happy music and laughter. But I told myself I better not dare fall in love.

But I did anyways.

For nine months I came home smelling like a sense of security and everything safe and good and happy and hopeful. This boy stuck by my side and gave me the world and the stardust in his beautiful brown eyes melted my heart and his laugh was music to my ears. Some days I still come home smelling of gloomy weather and dragging feet and downcast stares avoiding the world. And my mother reminds me I fell in love and I smile because I fell hard and broke all my bones and he was there to pick them up for me.

And one day he came home smelling like pot and bourbon and nothing good and he told me he no longer loved me. And my mother looked on as I asked him to take his hoodies and love notes and good morning texts and all the memories we had made.

For one week I smelled like downpours and broken music and unkempt hair and shattered hopes and torn up love letters. It hit me then, what my mother had been warning me, that she had left out the last part of her cautionary advice. "Don't you fall in love... with anybody but yourself."

Now I smell of messy art and soft music and burning candles and forgotten hurts.

20
6
5
Juice
66 reads
Donate coins to Stephanie.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by Stephanie in portal Publishing
Rain and Cigarettes
I came home smelling like rain and cigarette smoke and teenage love and my mother grabbed me and said "you better not fall in love" and so I smiled and touched your number that you had slipped in my pocket earlier that day when you said that you were 32 degrees Fahrenheit and I was the sun and I could melt you with my fingertips.

I came home smelling like a hurricane and tequila and lemonade and the lavender flower you tucked behind my ear the night before and the way your shirt hung off of me, lopsided, almost like we were. My mother said to me "you better not fall in love" and I twirled the cheap necklace between my fingers and I smiled to myself, the clasp was broken but I could still feel your cold fingers as you tickled my neck when you first put it on me.

I came home smelling like thunderstorms and fire and breakup songs and rose thorns and cheap vodka that would make me throw up blood and smudged makeup. And the girl you chose had laughed and said ti would always be her and never me. And my mother just looked at me with pity.

For four months I smelled like overcast drizzles and fog and cheap takeout pizza and dirty clothes and tear stains on pillows and broken songs about love. I hadn't left the house since you left. And my mother stayed outside my room to make sure I stayed alive through the night while I cried myself to sleep.

Three weeks later I met a boy who wasn't so cold and gave me some inner peace and offered me his shirt so I could sleep in and hold tight and smell his scent lingering on it when I missed him. And I came home smelling like fresh rain after a long drought and clean laundry and happy music and laughter. But I told myself I better not dare fall in love.

But I did anyways.

For nine months I came home smelling like a sense of security and everything safe and good and happy and hopeful. This boy stuck by my side and gave me the world and the stardust in his beautiful brown eyes melted my heart and his laugh was music to my ears. Some days I still come home smelling of gloomy weather and dragging feet and downcast stares avoiding the world. And my mother reminds me I fell in love and I smile because I fell hard and broke all my bones and he was there to pick them up for me.

And one day he came home smelling like pot and bourbon and nothing good and he told me he no longer loved me. And my mother looked on as I asked him to take his hoodies and love notes and good morning texts and all the memories we had made.

For one week I smelled like downpours and broken music and unkempt hair and shattered hopes and torn up love letters. It hit me then, what my mother had been warning me, that she had left out the last part of her cautionary advice. "Don't you fall in love... with anybody but yourself."

Now I smell of messy art and soft music and burning candles and forgotten hurts.

20
6
5
Juice
66 reads
Load 5 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Sammielee46.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by Sammielee46

Deflowering

Everyone has addictions.

Drugs. Alcohol. Pussy. Cigarettes. Food.

Fuck, some people are even addicted to the sound of their own voices.

My addiction isn't any of the above. I have an addiction to the sweetest nectar known to man. Innocence.

That majestic glint in an apple-eyed youngster, the look of sheer wonder, where retinas process the world in glorious kaleidoscopic colour; just before the eulogy of adulthood is read aloud during the funeral of life. Their leathered eyes becoming knowing, worldly, and suspicious.

My preferred age range is seven to twelve year olds. Prepubescent saplings that make me salivate at first glance. The spindle-limbed, uncoordinated, beauties make my dick harder than concrete.

Child pornography doesn't cut it. It never has. It’s not just about the visual aspect of what the world call 'minors.' It’s the three dimensional, multi-sensory experience. The feel, the smell. Fuck, the smell. The aroma of outdoors, sticky, sweet, their unique syrup. The feel of the smoothest skin, unmarred by razors, wax strips; pores still closed, unwrapped, pure. The sound of childhood. Giggles; the inhibited nature in which they let go and do not care who hears them. Carefreeness, immaturity, innocence.

It has always boiled back to innocence. Through my mothers’ own addictions I had my innocence stolen at the ripe age of four. Her vices: drugs, booze, and sex, made me flower into an adult way sooner than I should have. I’d listen to her moan and scream whilst some dirty looking old man would bend her over the counter and fuck her in the ass. I’d often walk in on her shooting up, belt around her arm, honey in a needle, burnt coloured spoon on the table, eyes glazed, body slumping. Seeing her that way would relieve me, her being drugged up was far better than fuelled with alcohol or screwing a stranger.

I had to fend for myself. Cook, wash my own clothes, pay for the gas and electric, get myself to and from school; everything a mother should do for a child but didn’t. By the time I was seven, I may as well have been twenty-seven. My mum died, overdosing on the liquid-gold lifeblood, and I was left tidy up around her. Time passed and eventually the care system took me in and tried to enforce childhood back on an already evolved flower. It didn’t work. I ran from every home they placed me in. Cat and mouse races ensued until I was finally old enough to be the man I am today.

Flowers. An analogy I have spent years cultivating. The life cycle of the human race closely mirrors that of the life of a flower, yet it never ends with a beautiful rose blossom. Bear with me here. A seed buried in the soil taking the nourishment from it’s life force, until it’s born, a little stem, green, new, fresh, poking it’s head towards the light from the darkness that consumed it, breaking free from the confines of the underworld. It flourishes, and the point at which I am interested is when it buds, the little heads at the end of the stem, the best moment, the innocence is still there, until it flowers into an adult and it turns out to be nothing more than a goddamn dandelion. Ugly, marred, and sowing its fucking seed everywhere.

I ended up teaching these little ones. I chose my career as I wanted to nurture innocence, capture their immaturity and try and keep them as childlike for as long as possible. The kinder-garden of spring, if you will.

The very last time I touched a bud was in class. She was my student. It was all but a hug; she’d fallen in the playground at recess, grazed her pigeon-knee, she was crying and was so sad. I held her, and the fire inside me ignited. I felt alive. I knew at that time that I must touch her more intimately, but it would have to be away from the school, it would take time. I would tend this garden until I got her alone to be able to prune her until she was putty in my hands.

After months of work, which included being trusted by her mother and father, convincing them that their actually intelligent child needed extra support outside of the classroom, they allowed me to home-tutor. To begin with she was off limits, her parents were always there, but as time went on they became confident with me being around. A day then came where they needed to go out and entrusted me with her care.

We’d finished our reading lesson and she showed me her bedroom, I won’t tell you her real name but I’ll call her Lily. Lily’s bedroom was beautiful, something out of the movies I had watched as a kid, something I never had. There were teddy’s everywhere, pink drapes, the softest carpet. We laid on the floor together, her smell fingering my nasal hairs. I touched her leg with my fingertips, slowly tracing up to the apex of her thighs, gooseflesh erupted across her skin and I knew at that point I had to taste her innocence.

I was gentle with my tongue, I tasted her newness, my tastebuds echoing the goose-pimples on her ivory flesh. She giggled, told me it felt funny, I told her in a reassuring voice to lay still, that funny feeling would feel nicer than candy. I swirled my tongue around her core until she began to shudder. My photosynthesis made my little bud quiver with my breath, with my touch; I breathed life into her, and she looked the most beautiful I had ever seen her.

I told her that the special time we had just shared was our little secret. Lily nodded. I wiped her with a washcloth, and we sat back at the kitchen table and coloured together, just in time for her parents’ return. I went home and took care of my iron-fisted erection.

For months this carried on until touching her and tasting her just wasn’t enough anymore, I was walking around with tight balls and a constant hard-on. I needed to connect us together.

----

There was blood everywhere, she was screaming, her tears scarring her ivy face, what had I done? She looked up at me, and at that point I knew I had to run, for my little bud had turned into a dandelion. I had stolen her innocence, I had stolen the innocence of so many children, just like my mother did.

----

This is my full, unedited, confession. I dialled 911 seconds ago. When you find this note, check my briefcase. I have listed all of the children that I have deflowered. Help them, please help them, just like I wish someone helped me.

~ Fin.

15
5
6
Juice
80 reads
Donate coins to Sammielee46.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by Sammielee46
Deflowering
Everyone has addictions.

Drugs. Alcohol. Pussy. Cigarettes. Food.

Fuck, some people are even addicted to the sound of their own voices.

My addiction isn't any of the above. I have an addiction to the sweetest nectar known to man. Innocence.

That majestic glint in an apple-eyed youngster, the look of sheer wonder, where retinas process the world in glorious kaleidoscopic colour; just before the eulogy of adulthood is read aloud during the funeral of life. Their leathered eyes becoming knowing, worldly, and suspicious.

My preferred age range is seven to twelve year olds. Prepubescent saplings that make me salivate at first glance. The spindle-limbed, uncoordinated, beauties make my dick harder than concrete.

Child pornography doesn't cut it. It never has. It’s not just about the visual aspect of what the world call 'minors.' It’s the three dimensional, multi-sensory experience. The feel, the smell. Fuck, the smell. The aroma of outdoors, sticky, sweet, their unique syrup. The feel of the smoothest skin, unmarred by razors, wax strips; pores still closed, unwrapped, pure. The sound of childhood. Giggles; the inhibited nature in which they let go and do not care who hears them. Carefreeness, immaturity, innocence.

It has always boiled back to innocence. Through my mothers’ own addictions I had my innocence stolen at the ripe age of four. Her vices: drugs, booze, and sex, made me flower into an adult way sooner than I should have. I’d listen to her moan and scream whilst some dirty looking old man would bend her over the counter and fuck her in the ass. I’d often walk in on her shooting up, belt around her arm, honey in a needle, burnt coloured spoon on the table, eyes glazed, body slumping. Seeing her that way would relieve me, her being drugged up was far better than fuelled with alcohol or screwing a stranger.

I had to fend for myself. Cook, wash my own clothes, pay for the gas and electric, get myself to and from school; everything a mother should do for a child but didn’t. By the time I was seven, I may as well have been twenty-seven. My mum died, overdosing on the liquid-gold lifeblood, and I was left tidy up around her. Time passed and eventually the care system took me in and tried to enforce childhood back on an already evolved flower. It didn’t work. I ran from every home they placed me in. Cat and mouse races ensued until I was finally old enough to be the man I am today.

Flowers. An analogy I have spent years cultivating. The life cycle of the human race closely mirrors that of the life of a flower, yet it never ends with a beautiful rose blossom. Bear with me here. A seed buried in the soil taking the nourishment from it’s life force, until it’s born, a little stem, green, new, fresh, poking it’s head towards the light from the darkness that consumed it, breaking free from the confines of the underworld. It flourishes, and the point at which I am interested is when it buds, the little heads at the end of the stem, the best moment, the innocence is still there, until it flowers into an adult and it turns out to be nothing more than a goddamn dandelion. Ugly, marred, and sowing its fucking seed everywhere.

I ended up teaching these little ones. I chose my career as I wanted to nurture innocence, capture their immaturity and try and keep them as childlike for as long as possible. The kinder-garden of spring, if you will.

The very last time I touched a bud was in class. She was my student. It was all but a hug; she’d fallen in the playground at recess, grazed her pigeon-knee, she was crying and was so sad. I held her, and the fire inside me ignited. I felt alive. I knew at that time that I must touch her more intimately, but it would have to be away from the school, it would take time. I would tend this garden until I got her alone to be able to prune her until she was putty in my hands.

After months of work, which included being trusted by her mother and father, convincing them that their actually intelligent child needed extra support outside of the classroom, they allowed me to home-tutor. To begin with she was off limits, her parents were always there, but as time went on they became confident with me being around. A day then came where they needed to go out and entrusted me with her care.

We’d finished our reading lesson and she showed me her bedroom, I won’t tell you her real name but I’ll call her Lily. Lily’s bedroom was beautiful, something out of the movies I had watched as a kid, something I never had. There were teddy’s everywhere, pink drapes, the softest carpet. We laid on the floor together, her smell fingering my nasal hairs. I touched her leg with my fingertips, slowly tracing up to the apex of her thighs, gooseflesh erupted across her skin and I knew at that point I had to taste her innocence.

I was gentle with my tongue, I tasted her newness, my tastebuds echoing the goose-pimples on her ivory flesh. She giggled, told me it felt funny, I told her in a reassuring voice to lay still, that funny feeling would feel nicer than candy. I swirled my tongue around her core until she began to shudder. My photosynthesis made my little bud quiver with my breath, with my touch; I breathed life into her, and she looked the most beautiful I had ever seen her.

I told her that the special time we had just shared was our little secret. Lily nodded. I wiped her with a washcloth, and we sat back at the kitchen table and coloured together, just in time for her parents’ return. I went home and took care of my iron-fisted erection.

For months this carried on until touching her and tasting her just wasn’t enough anymore, I was walking around with tight balls and a constant hard-on. I needed to connect us together.

----

There was blood everywhere, she was screaming, her tears scarring her ivy face, what had I done? She looked up at me, and at that point I knew I had to run, for my little bud had turned into a dandelion. I had stolen her innocence, I had stolen the innocence of so many children, just like my mother did.

----

This is my full, unedited, confession. I dialled 911 seconds ago. When you find this note, check my briefcase. I have listed all of the children that I have deflowered. Help them, please help them, just like I wish someone helped me.


~ Fin.
#fiction  #shortstory  #nsfw  #Itslit  #LolitaInspired 
15
5
6
Juice
80 reads
Load 6 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Firdaus.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by Firdaus in portal Publishing

Alternate Reality

She pulled back the curtain, her eyes tightly shut. She felt the warmth of the sun on her face. Bracing herself for the horror that would come, she slowly opened her eyes.

Nothing could have prepared her for the devastation before her. For as far as her eyes could travel, she only saw scattered bodies, some tangled in twisted metal of cars and lampposts and other debris. Buildings and houses had been flattened. They stood like jagged concrete stumps in the distance.

Her breath came out in gasps. The stench of the rot nauseating her. She rushed back to the trapdoor in the corner of the room from where she had just crawled out; her safe haven for the past few weeks or months, she couldn't remember. She had been too scared to come out. Her meagre rations had almost depleted. The air underground had begun to get unbearable to breathe. She shut the trapdoor behind her and sat on the steps leading down. For a long time she sat there, she had run out of tears and ideas. Finally, she gathered some courage and climbed back out. She had to find other survivors.

As she stepped out of the house she heard a constant beeping sound. Then voices, a little muffled, but she could make out what they were saying.

"She's coming back, she's coming back!"

"Check her vitals."

"Everything seems okay."

She heard someone calling her name. A familiar voice very far away. She felt her vision blur. She rubbed her eyes. When she opened them again she saw her husband leaning over her.

"Welcome back," he smiled with tears in his eyes.

"What the—" she tried to speak, her throat parched.

"Shhh..." he cut her off, "it's okay, you've been asleep for a long time."

22
5
10
Juice
78 reads
Donate coins to Firdaus.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by Firdaus in portal Publishing
Alternate Reality
She pulled back the curtain, her eyes tightly shut. She felt the warmth of the sun on her face. Bracing herself for the horror that would come, she slowly opened her eyes.

Nothing could have prepared her for the devastation before her. For as far as her eyes could travel, she only saw scattered bodies, some tangled in twisted metal of cars and lampposts and other debris. Buildings and houses had been flattened. They stood like jagged concrete stumps in the distance.

Her breath came out in gasps. The stench of the rot nauseating her. She rushed back to the trapdoor in the corner of the room from where she had just crawled out; her safe haven for the past few weeks or months, she couldn't remember. She had been too scared to come out. Her meagre rations had almost depleted. The air underground had begun to get unbearable to breathe. She shut the trapdoor behind her and sat on the steps leading down. For a long time she sat there, she had run out of tears and ideas. Finally, she gathered some courage and climbed back out. She had to find other survivors.

As she stepped out of the house she heard a constant beeping sound. Then voices, a little muffled, but she could make out what they were saying.

"She's coming back, she's coming back!"

"Check her vitals."

"Everything seems okay."

She heard someone calling her name. A familiar voice very far away. She felt her vision blur. She rubbed her eyes. When she opened them again she saw her husband leaning over her.

"Welcome back," he smiled with tears in his eyes.

"What the—" she tried to speak, her throat parched.

"Shhh..." he cut her off, "it's okay, you've been asleep for a long time."
#flashfiction  #300wordstory 
22
5
10
Juice
78 reads
Load 10 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to AnnCost.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by AnnCost in portal Publishing

To Whom It May Concern:

Dearest Reader,

When I picture you, you're at a desk. Hopefully you are fortunate enough to be elsewhere, like under a 100 year old tree in a part of the world where the breeze is warm, the grass needs cutting, and the feel of the bark at your back is as hospitable and trustworthy as it could be at 100 years of age. But under my suspicion, we are in someway similar to each other. It's more likely you are contained between four walls in a slightly uncomfortable chair and you freeze even at the thought of going back outside because the snow ball from hell came back from it's spring vacation, however short it had been. That being said, I guess my hope for you is that within your four walls, there is a window.

Now that I have you here, I have a confession. My name isn't Ann Cost, shocker, I know. As much as I wish it was, Ann Cost is actually a character I had created in a NaNoWriMo tribute in high school for my English class. I have now adopted the name as my pen name.

The text she inhabited only consisted of twelve pages. Within those twelve, she was daring, witty, and honestly, the best version of myself. She would sleuth along side a character named Jimmy Devly, a young writer searching for inspiration, and Morgan Gren, who was sort of a sheep, truth be told. These twelve pages were crafted in freedom because the only way my teacher could grade it was by word count. (This many words gets you a C and so on.) But the longer I wrote, the more attached to the characters I became and my mission evolved. If I was going to write, I was going to write well. 

And so I edit and rewrite. I learned I could say more with fewer more vivid words but, that left me with fewer words. I emailed it to my teacher anyway. By this time, because of my editing and rewriting, the month was over and I had to turn it in anyway. 

Feeling the weight of my grade being, for a lack of a better word, doomed, I went to bed dreading make up assignments and feeling so stupid for not just repeating what everyone else did. Which was what I thought of as very very very very lame. 

The next day I received an email. It was from Mr. Palmerton my English teacher about my NaNoWriMo assignment.

Good work. You are very talented. I enjoyed what I read.

Your grade = B

I know you were a bit short of the word count for this, but I think you deserve an upgrade. 

That was it. Having never getting praise from a teacher in my whole adolescent career before this email, it opened a window for me. I can do what I love really well and it was different. 

This is how I connect to the world, to all the people just like me in contents of their four walls. I hope for all of you that you have a window too. 

Sincerely,

Ann Cost  

16
5
4
Juice
69 reads
Donate coins to AnnCost.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by AnnCost in portal Publishing
To Whom It May Concern:
Dearest Reader,
When I picture you, you're at a desk. Hopefully you are fortunate enough to be elsewhere, like under a 100 year old tree in a part of the world where the breeze is warm, the grass needs cutting, and the feel of the bark at your back is as hospitable and trustworthy as it could be at 100 years of age. But under my suspicion, we are in someway similar to each other. It's more likely you are contained between four walls in a slightly uncomfortable chair and you freeze even at the thought of going back outside because the snow ball from hell came back from it's spring vacation, however short it had been. That being said, I guess my hope for you is that within your four walls, there is a window.
Now that I have you here, I have a confession. My name isn't Ann Cost, shocker, I know. As much as I wish it was, Ann Cost is actually a character I had created in a NaNoWriMo tribute in high school for my English class. I have now adopted the name as my pen name.
The text she inhabited only consisted of twelve pages. Within those twelve, she was daring, witty, and honestly, the best version of myself. She would sleuth along side a character named Jimmy Devly, a young writer searching for inspiration, and Morgan Gren, who was sort of a sheep, truth be told. These twelve pages were crafted in freedom because the only way my teacher could grade it was by word count. (This many words gets you a C and so on.) But the longer I wrote, the more attached to the characters I became and my mission evolved. If I was going to write, I was going to write well. 
And so I edit and rewrite. I learned I could say more with fewer more vivid words but, that left me with fewer words. I emailed it to my teacher anyway. By this time, because of my editing and rewriting, the month was over and I had to turn it in anyway. 
Feeling the weight of my grade being, for a lack of a better word, doomed, I went to bed dreading make up assignments and feeling so stupid for not just repeating what everyone else did. Which was what I thought of as very very very very lame. 
The next day I received an email. It was from Mr. Palmerton my English teacher about my NaNoWriMo assignment.

Good work. You are very talented. I enjoyed what I read.
Your grade = B
I know you were a bit short of the word count for this, but I think you deserve an upgrade. 

That was it. Having never getting praise from a teacher in my whole adolescent career before this email, it opened a window for me. I can do what I love really well and it was different. 
This is how I connect to the world, to all the people just like me in contents of their four walls. I hope for all of you that you have a window too. 
Sincerely,
Ann Cost  
16
5
4
Juice
69 reads
Load 4 Comments
Login to post comments.
Advertisement  (turn off)
Donate coins to rhaouli.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by rhaouli

Newport's Hospital

 “Hey Carly, are there any more saline sachets in here” I asked as I rummaged through the supply cupboard on our ward.

“If there’s none there Ash, try the supply closet” she called out, I peeped into the room and saw the ginger head wiping Mrs Jones bottom. I couldn’t help but snicker at the sight.

“Don’t get too jealous Ash, you’re doing the next rounds” she called out.

I sighed as I walked towards the closet in between ward 2A and 2B. Carly and I both work in W2B, but she started at Newport Hospital a year before me. Then of course there’s other nurses here like Katie, Margret, Johnathon and my personal favourite…

“Charlie… speaking of the devil” I exclaimed once I noticed him in a corner of the closest.

He had his back to me so I could only see his lovely mop of dark brown hair. It wasn’t until he replied with an “mmph” and grunt that I realised we weren’t alone.

“Jesus Charlie, not again! I really hope this time it’s not a patient” again his only reply was a sigh.

I quickly grabbed some saline sachets and scurried out the closet to the sounds of ‘yeah baby’ and ‘take it in all the way’. That guy will never learn until he gets an STD so bad that his dick has to be chopped off.

I ran into Carly while entering the ward. “Hey, what’s got you blushing?” she winked at me.

“Try and guess” I rolled my eyes wondering what I had ever seen in him.

“Don’t say it…?” she replied in mock disbelief.

“The one and only”

“You know you’d think he’d be over all that, now that he’s 25 but nope, the boy can’t give up a blow job”

“Who can’t give up a blow job?” Charlie asked as he snaked his arms around my waist.

“Speak of the devil and doth shall appear” Carly mumbled

I couldn’t help but laugh “that’s what I said”.

“Hey Carls, he took his game to a whole new level though” I said as I whispered into Carly’s ear the details.

“Oh no Charlie! That desperate? Even putting on a doc’s coat! Now that’s just sad, you know I’m not straight but even I could’ve thrown you a bone” Carly teased and I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically.

“ok seriously guys I don’t know what ya’ll are talking about, I mean if I did, at least let me laugh too or even throw a few dirty jokes in” he winked suggestively bumping his hip with mine.

“No way Jose, that ship sailed long ago” I replied laughing “but seriously wasn’t that you in the closet getting some” Carly asked while demonstrating the universal sign of a blow job.

“What no! I haven’t even had a morning tea break yet, I’ve been swamped with just Katie to help for the morning” he sighed “but if it was me, I’m sure the ward would’ve heard by now, you guys know I like to keep my fan club updated” he smirked.

Just then, Julie our NIC, called us over for the weekly meeting. It’s usually just about 15 minutes long, were most of the nurses from W2A and B get briefed to any upcoming changes and new or leaving employees.

“Alright guys I don’t wanna hold anyone up too long so let’s get through this really quickly, Katie leaves for maternity leave next week.” Kate, who was almost 8 months pregnant gave us all a shy wave, she’s a petite brunette that’s too nice for her own good. After that the meeting just went on and on. The rest of it was just changes within the wards, like where they’re now keeping the bed linen etc.

“Alright guys, lastly we have a new doctor that’s going to be treating our patients so please be nice” she said clapping her chubby hands in enthusiasm.

The mop of brown hair I saw before floated into the room wearing a doctor’s coat. At least that’s all I could focus on.

“Everyone, meet Doctor Jordan Quinn” Julie said as she gestured to the ridiculously handsome man beside her. He was really tall, I think even slightly taller than Charlie, with chocolate brown eyes, the right amount of stubble and a frame crafted by the gods. There’s no way he could’ve know it was me in the supply closet, I reassured myself. Just then his chocolate brown eyes locked with mine and I knew my gut was telling me otherwise.

0
0
0
Juice
7 reads
Donate coins to rhaouli.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by rhaouli
Newport's Hospital
 “Hey Carly, are there any more saline sachets in here” I asked as I rummaged through the supply cupboard on our ward.
“If there’s none there Ash, try the supply closet” she called out, I peeped into the room and saw the ginger head wiping Mrs Jones bottom. I couldn’t help but snicker at the sight.
“Don’t get too jealous Ash, you’re doing the next rounds” she called out.
I sighed as I walked towards the closet in between ward 2A and 2B. Carly and I both work in W2B, but she started at Newport Hospital a year before me. Then of course there’s other nurses here like Katie, Margret, Johnathon and my personal favourite…
“Charlie… speaking of the devil” I exclaimed once I noticed him in a corner of the closest.
He had his back to me so I could only see his lovely mop of dark brown hair. It wasn’t until he replied with an “mmph” and grunt that I realised we weren’t alone.
“Jesus Charlie, not again! I really hope this time it’s not a patient” again his only reply was a sigh.
I quickly grabbed some saline sachets and scurried out the closet to the sounds of ‘yeah baby’ and ‘take it in all the way’. That guy will never learn until he gets an STD so bad that his dick has to be chopped off.
I ran into Carly while entering the ward. “Hey, what’s got you blushing?” she winked at me.
“Try and guess” I rolled my eyes wondering what I had ever seen in him.
“Don’t say it…?” she replied in mock disbelief.
“The one and only”
“You know you’d think he’d be over all that, now that he’s 25 but nope, the boy can’t give up a blow job”
“Who can’t give up a blow job?” Charlie asked as he snaked his arms around my waist.
“Speak of the devil and doth shall appear” Carly mumbled
I couldn’t help but laugh “that’s what I said”.
“Hey Carls, he took his game to a whole new level though” I said as I whispered into Carly’s ear the details.
“Oh no Charlie! That desperate? Even putting on a doc’s coat! Now that’s just sad, you know I’m not straight but even I could’ve thrown you a bone” Carly teased and I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically.
“ok seriously guys I don’t know what ya’ll are talking about, I mean if I did, at least let me laugh too or even throw a few dirty jokes in” he winked suggestively bumping his hip with mine.
“No way Jose, that ship sailed long ago” I replied laughing “but seriously wasn’t that you in the closet getting some” Carly asked while demonstrating the universal sign of a blow job.
“What no! I haven’t even had a morning tea break yet, I’ve been swamped with just Katie to help for the morning” he sighed “but if it was me, I’m sure the ward would’ve heard by now, you guys know I like to keep my fan club updated” he smirked.
Just then, Julie our NIC, called us over for the weekly meeting. It’s usually just about 15 minutes long, were most of the nurses from W2A and B get briefed to any upcoming changes and new or leaving employees.
“Alright guys I don’t wanna hold anyone up too long so let’s get through this really quickly, Katie leaves for maternity leave next week.” Kate, who was almost 8 months pregnant gave us all a shy wave, she’s a petite brunette that’s too nice for her own good. After that the meeting just went on and on. The rest of it was just changes within the wards, like where they’re now keeping the bed linen etc.
“Alright guys, lastly we have a new doctor that’s going to be treating our patients so please be nice” she said clapping her chubby hands in enthusiasm.
The mop of brown hair I saw before floated into the room wearing a doctor’s coat. At least that’s all I could focus on.
“Everyone, meet Doctor Jordan Quinn” Julie said as she gestured to the ridiculously handsome man beside her. He was really tall, I think even slightly taller than Charlie, with chocolate brown eyes, the right amount of stubble and a frame crafted by the gods. There’s no way he could’ve know it was me in the supply closet, I reassured myself. Just then his chocolate brown eyes locked with mine and I knew my gut was telling me otherwise.
0
0
0
Juice
7 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to lieseliese.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by lieseliese in portal Publishing

My Sister Cara

Sometimes I can still hear her, at the edge of my mind. She is tired, and I know she doesn't have long until it happens. Since I was small, I've had a very active imagination. I pictured every floor covered in lava, oh what fun I had jumping from chairs to couches to even tables, which my mother would give me a slap for. I once pretended for a whole year that I had a purple mustache, and to this day I do not know why. When I was twelve years old, I was an extremely lonely child, home schooled and an only child. The only other kid I knew was my cousin, Brennan, who visited with my aunt once a year around Christmas and was four years younger than me. So when my sister arrived, I was overjoyed. She told me her name was Cara and she was going to be my best friend, and so we were. She looked like me. She had thin, shoulder length, brown hair, a button nose, and pale, dull-ish looking skin spotted with small brown freckles spotting her body. Her eyes were different. Unreadable, one blue and one brown. We would avoid the lava floors together, draw pictures, talk about our annoying parents, and make up ridiculous stories. When I was 15, my parents decided I should start public school. Cara couldn't leave the house, as she was quite sickly since she first arrived. Every day, she would watch me walk to and from the bus stop from the attic window, where her room was. I didn't really fit in at first, but I eventually made friends, even joined a lacrosse team. Cara was jealous. She didn't want me to be away from her. Every day she would lament about how bored she was when I was gone, I shook it off and we continued our shenanigans. One night, however, I invited my friend, Brad, over. Cara stayed in her attic for most of the day, but some times I would see her looking at us from the door to my room. I would get up and shut it, I mean, who would want their younger sister dropping in on their boy talk. I woke up the next morning, an empty box of pizza to my right and spilled soda on my shirt. Brad was gone, so I assumed he went to the restroom. I was hungry, so I began the trudge to the kitchen, yawning and rubbing my eyes. Then I got to the stairs. Brad was at the bottom, his neck twisted in a position that wasn't natural, a small pool of blood around his head. His eyes were milky. I screamed, causing my parents to run out to see what was happening. As I was standing over Brad, crying, I glanced up the stairs to see Cara staring straight at me, from the attic stairs. After his death was ruled an accident, and everything was cleaned up, I was furious. I waited for my parents to leave and let all hell loose on Cara.

"What the hell did you do to him?" I screamed.

"I-I was jealous! I didn't mean to kill him, just wanted him to get hurt a little!" She replied defensively.

"You killed him! Why can't you just leave me alone?! All I wanted was a friend, Cara!" I yelled at her.

"I thought I was your friend." She replied sorrowfully.

I stormed to my room, resolving to ignore her. After three days of this, I noticed something. When I saw her from the corner of my eye, she was thinner, and so was her hair. A few more days, and she was a bald, gaunt figure. I was sitting on my bed when she shambled over to me.

"You're killing me." She whispered in my ear. 

I said nothing. The next few days she spent practically screaming and begging into my ear. I showed her no response, but then she went quiet. I finally dared to look at her. She was emaciated, her translucent skin stretched over her bones. Eyes completely white, nose gone. She looked kind of like Voldemort with that face. She was dead. I immediately went to my parents room, and found my mom sitting on the bed, reading a book.

"Mom. Cara is dead." I said in a raspy voice.

"Who is Cara? One of your school friends?" She replied, brows furrowed.

"No, my sister." I was frankly a little scared I had lost my mind.

"Hun... You don't have a sister."

3
0
0
Juice
22 reads
Donate coins to lieseliese.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by lieseliese in portal Publishing
My Sister Cara
Sometimes I can still hear her, at the edge of my mind. She is tired, and I know she doesn't have long until it happens. Since I was small, I've had a very active imagination. I pictured every floor covered in lava, oh what fun I had jumping from chairs to couches to even tables, which my mother would give me a slap for. I once pretended for a whole year that I had a purple mustache, and to this day I do not know why. When I was twelve years old, I was an extremely lonely child, home schooled and an only child. The only other kid I knew was my cousin, Brennan, who visited with my aunt once a year around Christmas and was four years younger than me. So when my sister arrived, I was overjoyed. She told me her name was Cara and she was going to be my best friend, and so we were. She looked like me. She had thin, shoulder length, brown hair, a button nose, and pale, dull-ish looking skin spotted with small brown freckles spotting her body. Her eyes were different. Unreadable, one blue and one brown. We would avoid the lava floors together, draw pictures, talk about our annoying parents, and make up ridiculous stories. When I was 15, my parents decided I should start public school. Cara couldn't leave the house, as she was quite sickly since she first arrived. Every day, she would watch me walk to and from the bus stop from the attic window, where her room was. I didn't really fit in at first, but I eventually made friends, even joined a lacrosse team. Cara was jealous. She didn't want me to be away from her. Every day she would lament about how bored she was when I was gone, I shook it off and we continued our shenanigans. One night, however, I invited my friend, Brad, over. Cara stayed in her attic for most of the day, but some times I would see her looking at us from the door to my room. I would get up and shut it, I mean, who would want their younger sister dropping in on their boy talk. I woke up the next morning, an empty box of pizza to my right and spilled soda on my shirt. Brad was gone, so I assumed he went to the restroom. I was hungry, so I began the trudge to the kitchen, yawning and rubbing my eyes. Then I got to the stairs. Brad was at the bottom, his neck twisted in a position that wasn't natural, a small pool of blood around his head. His eyes were milky. I screamed, causing my parents to run out to see what was happening. As I was standing over Brad, crying, I glanced up the stairs to see Cara staring straight at me, from the attic stairs. After his death was ruled an accident, and everything was cleaned up, I was furious. I waited for my parents to leave and let all hell loose on Cara.
"What the hell did you do to him?" I screamed.
"I-I was jealous! I didn't mean to kill him, just wanted him to get hurt a little!" She replied defensively.
"You killed him! Why can't you just leave me alone?! All I wanted was a friend, Cara!" I yelled at her.
"I thought I was your friend." She replied sorrowfully.
I stormed to my room, resolving to ignore her. After three days of this, I noticed something. When I saw her from the corner of my eye, she was thinner, and so was her hair. A few more days, and she was a bald, gaunt figure. I was sitting on my bed when she shambled over to me.
"You're killing me." She whispered in my ear. 
I said nothing. The next few days she spent practically screaming and begging into my ear. I showed her no response, but then she went quiet. I finally dared to look at her. She was emaciated, her translucent skin stretched over her bones. Eyes completely white, nose gone. She looked kind of like Voldemort with that face. She was dead. I immediately went to my parents room, and found my mom sitting on the bed, reading a book.
"Mom. Cara is dead." I said in a raspy voice.
"Who is Cara? One of your school friends?" She replied, brows furrowed.
"No, my sister." I was frankly a little scared I had lost my mind.
"Hun... You don't have a sister."
3
0
0
Juice
22 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to sarahdrowe.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by sarahdrowe in portal Publishing

Prologue

 

  I hurtled through the forest, branches tearing into my skin, but I didn’t slow. My heart 

pounded in my chest, producing a roaring that rang in my ears. That wasn’t good. I 

needed my senses. I needed to know where they were. I heard the racing footsteps behind 

me and lengthened my strides, trying to outrun them, to outlast them. If they caught 

me, it would all be over, and I doubted it would be quick. I just had to go a little bit 

farther… 

   My breathing was coming in harsher pants now, but my body was ignoring my fatigue, 

fueled by the strength of my adrenaline. Giving up wasn’t an option. Though running 

was familiar to this body, fleeing wasn’t. My instincts screamed at me to turn around and 

fight. I had always been the hunter, never the hunted.

  The scent I had been searching for reached my nose and I spun around to wait for my 

pursuers. I could hear them coming, crashing through the trees in a manner that said one 

of two things: either they were horrid hunters, or they were so strong that they didn’t care 

if I knew where they were. I could make out several large figures in the darkness through 

the trees. Several more figures stepped out of the darkness at my sides. In the distance, I 

heard a howl.

1
0
0
Juice
14 reads
Donate coins to sarahdrowe.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by sarahdrowe in portal Publishing
Prologue
 

  I hurtled through the forest, branches tearing into my skin, but I didn’t slow. My heart 

pounded in my chest, producing a roaring that rang in my ears. That wasn’t good. I 

needed my senses. I needed to know where they were. I heard the racing footsteps behind 

me and lengthened my strides, trying to outrun them, to outlast them. If they caught 

me, it would all be over, and I doubted it would be quick. I just had to go a little bit 

farther… 

   My breathing was coming in harsher pants now, but my body was ignoring my fatigue, 

fueled by the strength of my adrenaline. Giving up wasn’t an option. Though running 

was familiar to this body, fleeing wasn’t. My instincts screamed at me to turn around and 

fight. I had always been the hunter, never the hunted.

  The scent I had been searching for reached my nose and I spun around to wait for my 

pursuers. I could hear them coming, crashing through the trees in a manner that said one 

of two things: either they were horrid hunters, or they were so strong that they didn’t care 

if I knew where they were. I could make out several large figures in the darkness through 

the trees. Several more figures stepped out of the darkness at my sides. In the distance, I 

heard a howl.

1
0
0
Juice
14 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to RoseZee.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by RoseZee

Comatose Beauty

At first there was only darkness. Darkness and the incessant beep-beep-beeping of the heart monitor. Gradually I could see again. But not from my own eyes. It was as if I was a ghost…some unholy angel or non-tangible translucent being that hovered over the unmoving body lying on the hospital bed. There I was, unconscious, eyes closed, breathing steadily. And there he was…sitting in the uncomfortable-looking chair near the end of the—my—bed.

I was sure that I had never met him before but he was there all the time. The white room was synonymous with his presence. I don’t know how many days I lay in that bed. Time was not conceivable to me. But he was always there. Sometimes he just sat there and sometimes he would talk to me.

Today he was talking a lot. From the odd forty-five degree angle I saw of his face, he was cute. Even though I was nothing but a phantom with no concept of time or physical needs, I was still confused as to why this cute stranger spent so much time in my room talking to me.

I learned so much about his life. He told me about his childhood in the suburbs. He told me about his golden retriever that he seemed to love very much. He told funny stories that, if I had a voice, I would have laughed at. His presence was calming. It prevented me from thinking about how or why I was even laying in bed in the middle of that ugly stark white hospital room to begin with. Every once in awhile the memory would creep into my mind. Pouring rain and screeching tires. But mostly I just focused on my mystery boy.

I had no thoughts of before the accident, or even of the future. When would I wake up? Would I wake up at all? It was as if he was my knight in shining armor…telling funny stories and keeping my beep-beep-beeping going steady.

One day he came into my room and sat in his familiar chair but he did not talk to me right away. His face was sad and forlorn and his eyes held so much pain I thought I could feel it through the air. Then he spoke,

“My grandfather died today.” So that was why he was always here at the hospital. I wondered why he spent so much time in my room instead of his.

“I knew it would happen. I’ve visited him every day for a year since they said he was going to die. He sleeps mostly, that’s why I first found you. He was sleeping and I was wandering and I found your room. I know he was going to die eventually, but it still hurts. I miss him,” My heart went out to him. I was sad for his loss. But also sad because of what he said next.

“I guess that means I won’t be coming to visit you anymore.” At his words I felt a strange rush of emotions. My knight…my mystery boy. My anchor to the real word. My steady beep-beep-beeping. My friend. He wouldn’t come to see me anymore. What would happen to me? Would I go towards the light or would I return to my body, alive again but missing the person that had become so important to me?

He stood up and moved towards me. Gently, the boy bent down and kissed my pale forehead. I felt like crying and wished that ghosts could cry. He whispered something in my ear. With those words there was a strange and sudden vacuum effect. It felt as if all of my insides were strewn about in the air and suddenly thrown back into my body. I couldn’t see anymore. But I felt heavy. My eyes fluttered open. I was me again. The beep-beep-beeping was still there. I was me and I was in my body and he was still there…standing in front of me with a look of astoundment on his face. He smiled at me. I smiled back.

0
0
0
Juice
9 reads
Donate coins to RoseZee.
Juice
Cancel
We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by RoseZee
Comatose Beauty
At first there was only darkness. Darkness and the incessant beep-beep-beeping of the heart monitor. Gradually I could see again. But not from my own eyes. It was as if I was a ghost…some unholy angel or non-tangible translucent being that hovered over the unmoving body lying on the hospital bed. There I was, unconscious, eyes closed, breathing steadily. And there he was…sitting in the uncomfortable-looking chair near the end of the—my—bed.
I was sure that I had never met him before but he was there all the time. The white room was synonymous with his presence. I don’t know how many days I lay in that bed. Time was not conceivable to me. But he was always there. Sometimes he just sat there and sometimes he would talk to me.
Today he was talking a lot. From the odd forty-five degree angle I saw of his face, he was cute. Even though I was nothing but a phantom with no concept of time or physical needs, I was still confused as to why this cute stranger spent so much time in my room talking to me.
I learned so much about his life. He told me about his childhood in the suburbs. He told me about his golden retriever that he seemed to love very much. He told funny stories that, if I had a voice, I would have laughed at. His presence was calming. It prevented me from thinking about how or why I was even laying in bed in the middle of that ugly stark white hospital room to begin with. Every once in awhile the memory would creep into my mind. Pouring rain and screeching tires. But mostly I just focused on my mystery boy.
I had no thoughts of before the accident, or even of the future. When would I wake up? Would I wake up at all? It was as if he was my knight in shining armor…telling funny stories and keeping my beep-beep-beeping going steady.
One day he came into my room and sat in his familiar chair but he did not talk to me right away. His face was sad and forlorn and his eyes held so much pain I thought I could feel it through the air. Then he spoke,
“My grandfather died today.” So that was why he was always here at the hospital. I wondered why he spent so much time in my room instead of his.
“I knew it would happen. I’ve visited him every day for a year since they said he was going to die. He sleeps mostly, that’s why I first found you. He was sleeping and I was wandering and I found your room. I know he was going to die eventually, but it still hurts. I miss him,” My heart went out to him. I was sad for his loss. But also sad because of what he said next.
“I guess that means I won’t be coming to visit you anymore.” At his words I felt a strange rush of emotions. My knight…my mystery boy. My anchor to the real word. My steady beep-beep-beeping. My friend. He wouldn’t come to see me anymore. What would happen to me? Would I go towards the light or would I return to my body, alive again but missing the person that had become so important to me?
He stood up and moved towards me. Gently, the boy bent down and kissed my pale forehead. I felt like crying and wished that ghosts could cry. He whispered something in my ear. With those words there was a strange and sudden vacuum effect. It felt as if all of my insides were strewn about in the air and suddenly thrown back into my body. I couldn’t see anymore. But I felt heavy. My eyes fluttered open. I was me again. The beep-beep-beeping was still there. I was me and I was in my body and he was still there…standing in front of me with a look of astoundment on his face. He smiled at me. I smiled back.

0
0
0
Juice
9 reads
Login to post comments.
Advertisement  (turn off)