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Written by Stormlight in portal Fiction

The Flood

The boy awoke to the sound of rain as it pelted the roof of the workshop. There was a howling in the air as winds battered the walls. The door to the building rattled back and forth on its weathered hinges and the boy prayed that it would hold for the night. He shivered and squirmed deeper into his nest of blankets and rags, scrounging for the remnants of warmth within them. He opened his eyes, though it served little purpose. It was still nighttime and the night was always darker than any shadows or voids he could possibly dream of. Opened or closed, he was blind to the world.

During the day, he had found dried, crusted cloths stained black with oil hidden inside one of the large metal cabinets. He used the cloths and twigs he had gathered from outside and built a tiny fire using one of his matches. He had watched the thin wisps of smoke rise and seep through the vents mounted high on the walls and eventually fell asleep to the sound of the crackling flames.

The fire had died some hours ago and now he sat in the cold and the quiet. It was so dark that he could barely see his hand when held inches from his face. The outlines of cabinets, shelves, tools and the husk of an old car could barely be seen, fuzzy and not quite there as if some glaucoma had dimmed what little of the world remained.

The sound of the rain and wind outside had grown violent with the booms of thunder claps as if God himself had come to rage upon the ashes and wash them all away.

With the fire gone, the cold clawed at his skin. The boy curled into a ball and pulled the rags tightly over him. His cheeks and hands were raw and the back of his throat burned with every breath. With no fire, he feared he might die.

He began to hum a tune to himself, although where he had heard it and what the lyrics were, he did not know. It always calmed him. It was the only song he knew and it reminded him of different days – better days. Ones he wished he could grab the memory of and relive.

An hour passed and still the boy lay wide awake, shivering in the cold. He could feel hunger rising within, biting him with the teeth of a starved beast. He had bottled water and cans of old soda, but no food left. He could go many hours without food these days, but it had now been a full day since he last ate. The taste of the canned broth still rested on his tongue and his stomach groaned in remembrance of it. The pain of hunger was something he had grown accustomed to, but it was often still enough to keep him awake at night and even when he slept through it the hunger visited him in dreams.

The rain continued to fall. Sometimes the sound of it would lull him to sleep, but on nights where the storms were especially bad, on nights like this, he’d lie huddled in a corner, frightened that it would slip under the door and drown him and everything else in the room. It could rain for days. The world would flood and overnight it would transform itself into an impassable bog of sludge and black ice. The boy couldn’t even drink from the puddles because it would burn his throat whenever he tried, as if the sky had cried acid.

When it last rained, the boy had been trapped inside an abandoned block of flats. The rain had fallen for only three days, but he remained stranded for an entire week as the water gradually dissipated enough for him to move on. He had survived on what little food and drink he had left, and on the rats that scurried up and down the halls.

The boy hoped the rain would stop soon. There weren't any rats here. Only strange tools and metal cabinets.

Again, he hummed the tune he didn’t know. The nameless song that so often replaced the grey of the world with colour. He hummed it to the dark of the night and to himself and hoped that one day it would hum back.

He closed his eyes and tried to think of the better days. He sang the tune in his head and tried to remember the words. He tried to ignore his hunger; he tried to ignore that he was cold and alone in a world of no one and he tried his best not to cry.

The earth shook with thunder once again and he felt an icy wetness seep into his blankets as the room began to flood.

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Written by Stormlight in portal Fiction
The Flood
The boy awoke to the sound of rain as it pelted the roof of the workshop. There was a howling in the air as winds battered the walls. The door to the building rattled back and forth on its weathered hinges and the boy prayed that it would hold for the night. He shivered and squirmed deeper into his nest of blankets and rags, scrounging for the remnants of warmth within them. He opened his eyes, though it served little purpose. It was still nighttime and the night was always darker than any shadows or voids he could possibly dream of. Opened or closed, he was blind to the world.

During the day, he had found dried, crusted cloths stained black with oil hidden inside one of the large metal cabinets. He used the cloths and twigs he had gathered from outside and built a tiny fire using one of his matches. He had watched the thin wisps of smoke rise and seep through the vents mounted high on the walls and eventually fell asleep to the sound of the crackling flames.

The fire had died some hours ago and now he sat in the cold and the quiet. It was so dark that he could barely see his hand when held inches from his face. The outlines of cabinets, shelves, tools and the husk of an old car could barely be seen, fuzzy and not quite there as if some glaucoma had dimmed what little of the world remained.

The sound of the rain and wind outside had grown violent with the booms of thunder claps as if God himself had come to rage upon the ashes and wash them all away.

With the fire gone, the cold clawed at his skin. The boy curled into a ball and pulled the rags tightly over him. His cheeks and hands were raw and the back of his throat burned with every breath. With no fire, he feared he might die.

He began to hum a tune to himself, although where he had heard it and what the lyrics were, he did not know. It always calmed him. It was the only song he knew and it reminded him of different days – better days. Ones he wished he could grab the memory of and relive.

An hour passed and still the boy lay wide awake, shivering in the cold. He could feel hunger rising within, biting him with the teeth of a starved beast. He had bottled water and cans of old soda, but no food left. He could go many hours without food these days, but it had now been a full day since he last ate. The taste of the canned broth still rested on his tongue and his stomach groaned in remembrance of it. The pain of hunger was something he had grown accustomed to, but it was often still enough to keep him awake at night and even when he slept through it the hunger visited him in dreams.

The rain continued to fall. Sometimes the sound of it would lull him to sleep, but on nights where the storms were especially bad, on nights like this, he’d lie huddled in a corner, frightened that it would slip under the door and drown him and everything else in the room. It could rain for days. The world would flood and overnight it would transform itself into an impassable bog of sludge and black ice. The boy couldn’t even drink from the puddles because it would burn his throat whenever he tried, as if the sky had cried acid.

When it last rained, the boy had been trapped inside an abandoned block of flats. The rain had fallen for only three days, but he remained stranded for an entire week as the water gradually dissipated enough for him to move on. He had survived on what little food and drink he had left, and on the rats that scurried up and down the halls.

The boy hoped the rain would stop soon. There weren't any rats here. Only strange tools and metal cabinets.

Again, he hummed the tune he didn’t know. The nameless song that so often replaced the grey of the world with colour. He hummed it to the dark of the night and to himself and hoped that one day it would hum back.

He closed his eyes and tried to think of the better days. He sang the tune in his head and tried to remember the words. He tried to ignore his hunger; he tried to ignore that he was cold and alone in a world of no one and he tried his best not to cry.

The earth shook with thunder once again and he felt an icy wetness seep into his blankets as the room began to flood.
#scifi  #fiction  #shortstory  #postapocalypse 
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Written by Crow in portal Horror & Thriller

The Children's Priestess - Short Story

There were legends told about the Children's Priestess. A woman untouched of time who roamed the Waste of the city Engoria. The story had been told many times around the group of young beggars I belonged too. They said that the lucky few who found her gets taken to her sanctuary, that she saves you from the poverty and distraught we experience here in the Wasteland. Some said they have seen her walk along the harbor at night, shrouded in a golden glow. But whether it was the need for attention or the want to tell the truth that made the youth tell of such stories was unknown. When I was younger I had myself tried to find her. That along with tens of other remedies to escape this place, all of them were, of course, unsuccessful.

     From time to time people claim to have seen the Priestess but lately she had been sighted more frequently. People bursted into our chaos of a home to spill what they had just seen. More had also started to go missing which only fueled the rumors of her. Some in our small pack had formed groups and go out searching for her. They even bonded briefly with a rivaling group of beggars across the city in their haunt for her.

     “Do you think we should go looking for her?” Taliyah said besides me, she was three years younger than me and I felt she was as close to me as a sister but I shook my head at her question.

     “She’s not real.” I crossed my arms over my chest. Our common room was loud with whispers as another one of us had vanished in the night and once more I felt like I didn’t fit in. But it was the only life I’d ever known, I had no idea how to survive on my own.

     “Then where are all of them going, Luna?” She pushed.

     “People go missing all over the Waste.” I turned to look at her, she rested her chin on her knees, her face darkened in disappointed.

     “Taliyah, you have a better chance of winning at Mr. Huckleberry’s ballgame.” I sighed.

     “Which one is that?” She asked.

     “The one by the market, with the cans stacked on top of each other, you need to hit them down to win”

     “But doesn’t he glues his targets to the table?” She frowned.

     “Exactly.” I turned to look out over the room again.

     “Oh.” She breathed and we fell silent. I watched the others, I wished badly that they would not to go looking for the Priestess. We had already lost three this spring and it seemed I was the only one who cared or gave it a second thought. I guess they really did believed that the missing people were going somewhere better but I felt this glorification of disappearances where going a little too far. I bit my lip.

     “I’m sorry,” I began, breaking the silence. “I’ve just been let down too many times to believe in this bullshit. We all want to get out of here but I think it’s better to just accept our cast and work for it to become better.”

She didn’t respond at first. Thinking over her words before speaking.

     “I understand, I just wish there was something out there for us.” She gazed up at me.

     “We can only keep looking.” I stood up on my feet and reached my hand out towards her. “Come on, we should get some rest.”

     “Yeah.” She grabbed my hand and rose up alongside me. I hoped as we walked to what we called the Sleeping Halls that I had laid her thoughts about the Priestess to rest. There was a very selfish part of me that didn’t want Taliyah to find her even if the stories were true. I would be completely alone without her.

     People were already sleeping when we reached the room. We found a good spot on the floor and laid down next to each other. She inched closer for warmth and soon she was fast asleep.

     I slept restlessly through the night. I kept dreaming of a woman coming into the sleeping hall. She dragged me out of my bed multiple times but I never wanted to go. There was something wrong with her smile and her eyes. I knew I had to keep away from her. I fought her over and over, but every time I did the dream started over. I wanted it to end, I was twisting under my blanket unable to make it stop.

     Angrily I pushed the woman away, as she for hundredth time ushered me to come with her. I screamed at her to stop and then finally the dream changed. Instead of starting from the beginning she stared at me perplexed before disappearing through the wall and the dream came to a halt. I sat up, suddenly feeling awake. Rubbing my eyes I reached out for Taliyah but found the space next to me empty. I looked around me. The room was now filled with the others from our group. It was the dead of night and Taliyah wasn’t here.

     I stood up on slightly weak legs, dragged on my boots and stumbled towards the door. Stepping over the other children I noticed one of the younger ones squirming in his sleep. Quietly I walked over to him and observed his face. His eyes were moving rapidly under shut lids and his small hands were curled into fists. I touched his arm, waking him from the dream. His eyes flew open and I met them. He breathed franticly and I moved my hand to his cheek trying to calm him down.

     “What did you dream?” I asked in a whisper.

     “There was a lady, she took me, but I didn’t want too.” I was taken aback by the answer. His eyes were large with worry and I quickly tried to find my ground again.

     “Just a nightmare, try to go back to sleep.” I straightened up and felt my confidence take a hit. It must have just been a coincidence I tried to argue with myself but my eyes flashed towards Taliyah’s empty bed and I moved quicker out of the room. Feeling fear stirr in my chest I rushed down the stairs to the entrance and pushed the door open. I turned in the street and saw a frail silhouette on the horizon. I dashed forward.

     “Taliyah!” I shouted, she turned around and waved me towards her. I called again, hoping she would stop but she turned a corner and disappeared from my sight. Adrenaline pumped and I pressed myself to run faster. I dashed into the alleyway after her. Taliyah, stood still only a few feet away.

     “Taliyah?” I took another step forward.

     “Luna.” She turned around, smiling “You were wrong, I found her.” She shifted and pointed towards the darkness of the alleyway. A tall woman approached us from the shadows. Her skin was fair and her short hair aglow. She wore white robes and for a moment my heart jumped out of relief. But it was short-lived, for the woman changed before our eyes. Her eyes shifted from light grey to harsh crimson. Her hair grew like black vines down the side of her face and her beautiful robes withered around her as ash, leaving her in grey rags. Her face were as if stuck in between youth and old age, her skin stretched too tight while her eyes portrayed something much older. Taliyah backed and I wanted to grab her hand and run but my legs wouldn’t move. The Priestess smiled, her gaze crazed and she stepped towards us. She held a necklace in her hand which dangled as she moved, at the end hung small cranium.

     “You brought with you another one?” Her voice was unusually clear and directed towards Taliyah “How lovely, a little old maybe, but it will do.”

     “Leave her.” I stammered.

     She shook her head smiling even more now.

     “You reek of life.” She stepped forward one more and then recognition flashed over her eyes. “You are the one who fought me in the dream before.” I stared at her, feeling my heart beat in my chest.

     “What are you?” The question suddenly escaped my lips.

     “Oh?” She grinned and turned to Taliyah once again. “I’m glad you brought her, I’ve never heard so many words leave someone while being in the presence of me.”

Taliyah shook where she stood, her breathing uneven.

     “Don’t be scared.” She unveiled the knife from her clothes and as she moved I did too. I leaped in front of them, shielding Taliyah. But the Priestess wasn’t impressed, her face only shifted slightly.

     “You first then?” She hissed and before I could respond she buried the small dagger into my stomach. I screamed but she had her hand on my mouth before the sound could be uttered.

     “No!” Taliyah shouted but as I hit the ground the Priestess was already next to her, I heard her muffled howl before her body too, fell with a thud. The pain was deafening throughout my body, I clutched my wound and tried to shift to see Taliyah. I caught a glimpse of her auburn hair before a stale foot pressed against my back and pushed me down.

     “I will answer your question.” She dropped to her knees next to me. “You’ll just have to lay still and be quiet.” With a snap of her fingers, I felt my own tongue crawl to the back of my mouth and my body stiffened. As Taliyah’s sobs faded I assumed the same had happened to her.

     “What am I?” She repeated as she dragged her knife down from my shoulder to my hand. I needed to scream, my body was exploding with the want to squirm and trash at the pain. “Who do you think I am? The Priestess, isn’t that what you call me?”

She leaned forward to look me in the eyes as she drew another equally painful line down my other arm. I wished I could see Taliyah and block out the Priestess deplorable voice.

     “The legend of the beautiful priest who saves the poor from suffering. How lovely, what wonderful lies” Quickly her knife went across my cheeks, creating wounds from my eyes down to my chin. “Well I guess I am a priest of sorts. The only difference being that I worship at my own temple and I am my only god.” Another terrible smile spread across her face.

     “Would you believe me if I told you I was older than the Waste itself? That I was here long before you’re grandfathers and their parents too? Of course not, but you don’t have many more moments of questioning left, so it doesn’t matter?” I felt the tip of the blade run across my stomach. “You are only a vessel of time, a source of life and you will share that with me tonight. I have to feed on youth, you see, to stay how I am in front of you now.” She lifted one of my hands and dragged the blood covered limb over her mouth and nose covering herself in my blood while inhaling the smell. She smirked seeing my terrified eyes, but soon dropped my arm.

     “By any means,” She returned to her monolog ”it’s tricky. I don’t want to get caught, what are hundreds of more years if I cannot spend them. That is why I lure you here.” She continued to draw endless lines across the skin of my legs.

     “You’re dull friend here was too easy to fool, but many children are, they very seldom question fairytales. You however, you fought.” She smiled as she followed one the lines with her finger. “But again, does it matter? Look where you ended up. Now you get the pleasure of dying at my hand.”

     She fell silent, leaning back from me finally and observed my body as if admiring her own work. There was a shift in the air and her eye glowed. I knew I was dying, I felt how my life was slowly slipping out of all the wounds she had created. Now the blood under my skin shimmer, her hands were on my chest and my heart beat chaotically at her touch.

     Darkness rose around me. It was soft and warm almost like an embrace. My head swam in the pain unable to think straight and I welcomed the shadows, they numbed me. I thought of the times in my life when I had struggled. All of those memories, surrounded by death. It seemed horrible then, I always wanted to drag those I’d lost back the the harshness of living. Taliyah sparked in my mind and I wished I could protect her. That I could reach out and drag her with me into this dark light. The pain had left me now and I mused. There was after all, something beautiful waiting for us but not as either of us had imagined. In the somber stillness of my mind I rested easily, knowing she would soon join me.

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Written by Crow in portal Horror & Thriller
The Children's Priestess - Short Story
There were legends told about the Children's Priestess. A woman untouched of time who roamed the Waste of the city Engoria. The story had been told many times around the group of young beggars I belonged too. They said that the lucky few who found her gets taken to her sanctuary, that she saves you from the poverty and distraught we experience here in the Wasteland. Some said they have seen her walk along the harbor at night, shrouded in a golden glow. But whether it was the need for attention or the want to tell the truth that made the youth tell of such stories was unknown. When I was younger I had myself tried to find her. That along with tens of other remedies to escape this place, all of them were, of course, unsuccessful.
     From time to time people claim to have seen the Priestess but lately she had been sighted more frequently. People bursted into our chaos of a home to spill what they had just seen. More had also started to go missing which only fueled the rumors of her. Some in our small pack had formed groups and go out searching for her. They even bonded briefly with a rivaling group of beggars across the city in their haunt for her.
     “Do you think we should go looking for her?” Taliyah said besides me, she was three years younger than me and I felt she was as close to me as a sister but I shook my head at her question.
     “She’s not real.” I crossed my arms over my chest. Our common room was loud with whispers as another one of us had vanished in the night and once more I felt like I didn’t fit in. But it was the only life I’d ever known, I had no idea how to survive on my own.
     “Then where are all of them going, Luna?” She pushed.
     “People go missing all over the Waste.” I turned to look at her, she rested her chin on her knees, her face darkened in disappointed.
     “Taliyah, you have a better chance of winning at Mr. Huckleberry’s ballgame.” I sighed.
     “Which one is that?” She asked.
     “The one by the market, with the cans stacked on top of each other, you need to hit them down to win”
     “But doesn’t he glues his targets to the table?” She frowned.
     “Exactly.” I turned to look out over the room again.
     “Oh.” She breathed and we fell silent. I watched the others, I wished badly that they would not to go looking for the Priestess. We had already lost three this spring and it seemed I was the only one who cared or gave it a second thought. I guess they really did believed that the missing people were going somewhere better but I felt this glorification of disappearances where going a little too far. I bit my lip.
     “I’m sorry,” I began, breaking the silence. “I’ve just been let down too many times to believe in this bullshit. We all want to get out of here but I think it’s better to just accept our cast and work for it to become better.”
She didn’t respond at first. Thinking over her words before speaking.
     “I understand, I just wish there was something out there for us.” She gazed up at me.
     “We can only keep looking.” I stood up on my feet and reached my hand out towards her. “Come on, we should get some rest.”
     “Yeah.” She grabbed my hand and rose up alongside me. I hoped as we walked to what we called the Sleeping Halls that I had laid her thoughts about the Priestess to rest. There was a very selfish part of me that didn’t want Taliyah to find her even if the stories were true. I would be completely alone without her.
     People were already sleeping when we reached the room. We found a good spot on the floor and laid down next to each other. She inched closer for warmth and soon she was fast asleep.
     I slept restlessly through the night. I kept dreaming of a woman coming into the sleeping hall. She dragged me out of my bed multiple times but I never wanted to go. There was something wrong with her smile and her eyes. I knew I had to keep away from her. I fought her over and over, but every time I did the dream started over. I wanted it to end, I was twisting under my blanket unable to make it stop.
     Angrily I pushed the woman away, as she for hundredth time ushered me to come with her. I screamed at her to stop and then finally the dream changed. Instead of starting from the beginning she stared at me perplexed before disappearing through the wall and the dream came to a halt. I sat up, suddenly feeling awake. Rubbing my eyes I reached out for Taliyah but found the space next to me empty. I looked around me. The room was now filled with the others from our group. It was the dead of night and Taliyah wasn’t here.
     I stood up on slightly weak legs, dragged on my boots and stumbled towards the door. Stepping over the other children I noticed one of the younger ones squirming in his sleep. Quietly I walked over to him and observed his face. His eyes were moving rapidly under shut lids and his small hands were curled into fists. I touched his arm, waking him from the dream. His eyes flew open and I met them. He breathed franticly and I moved my hand to his cheek trying to calm him down.
     “What did you dream?” I asked in a whisper.
     “There was a lady, she took me, but I didn’t want too.” I was taken aback by the answer. His eyes were large with worry and I quickly tried to find my ground again.
     “Just a nightmare, try to go back to sleep.” I straightened up and felt my confidence take a hit. It must have just been a coincidence I tried to argue with myself but my eyes flashed towards Taliyah’s empty bed and I moved quicker out of the room. Feeling fear stirr in my chest I rushed down the stairs to the entrance and pushed the door open. I turned in the street and saw a frail silhouette on the horizon. I dashed forward.
     “Taliyah!” I shouted, she turned around and waved me towards her. I called again, hoping she would stop but she turned a corner and disappeared from my sight. Adrenaline pumped and I pressed myself to run faster. I dashed into the alleyway after her. Taliyah, stood still only a few feet away.
     “Taliyah?” I took another step forward.
     “Luna.” She turned around, smiling “You were wrong, I found her.” She shifted and pointed towards the darkness of the alleyway. A tall woman approached us from the shadows. Her skin was fair and her short hair aglow. She wore white robes and for a moment my heart jumped out of relief. But it was short-lived, for the woman changed before our eyes. Her eyes shifted from light grey to harsh crimson. Her hair grew like black vines down the side of her face and her beautiful robes withered around her as ash, leaving her in grey rags. Her face were as if stuck in between youth and old age, her skin stretched too tight while her eyes portrayed something much older. Taliyah backed and I wanted to grab her hand and run but my legs wouldn’t move. The Priestess smiled, her gaze crazed and she stepped towards us. She held a necklace in her hand which dangled as she moved, at the end hung small cranium.
     “You brought with you another one?” Her voice was unusually clear and directed towards Taliyah “How lovely, a little old maybe, but it will do.”
     “Leave her.” I stammered.
     She shook her head smiling even more now.
     “You reek of life.” She stepped forward one more and then recognition flashed over her eyes. “You are the one who fought me in the dream before.” I stared at her, feeling my heart beat in my chest.
     “What are you?” The question suddenly escaped my lips.
     “Oh?” She grinned and turned to Taliyah once again. “I’m glad you brought her, I’ve never heard so many words leave someone while being in the presence of me.”
Taliyah shook where she stood, her breathing uneven.
     “Don’t be scared.” She unveiled the knife from her clothes and as she moved I did too. I leaped in front of them, shielding Taliyah. But the Priestess wasn’t impressed, her face only shifted slightly.
     “You first then?” She hissed and before I could respond she buried the small dagger into my stomach. I screamed but she had her hand on my mouth before the sound could be uttered.
     “No!” Taliyah shouted but as I hit the ground the Priestess was already next to her, I heard her muffled howl before her body too, fell with a thud. The pain was deafening throughout my body, I clutched my wound and tried to shift to see Taliyah. I caught a glimpse of her auburn hair before a stale foot pressed against my back and pushed me down.
     “I will answer your question.” She dropped to her knees next to me. “You’ll just have to lay still and be quiet.” With a snap of her fingers, I felt my own tongue crawl to the back of my mouth and my body stiffened. As Taliyah’s sobs faded I assumed the same had happened to her.
     “What am I?” She repeated as she dragged her knife down from my shoulder to my hand. I needed to scream, my body was exploding with the want to squirm and trash at the pain. “Who do you think I am? The Priestess, isn’t that what you call me?”
She leaned forward to look me in the eyes as she drew another equally painful line down my other arm. I wished I could see Taliyah and block out the Priestess deplorable voice.
     “The legend of the beautiful priest who saves the poor from suffering. How lovely, what wonderful lies” Quickly her knife went across my cheeks, creating wounds from my eyes down to my chin. “Well I guess I am a priest of sorts. The only difference being that I worship at my own temple and I am my only god.” Another terrible smile spread across her face.
     “Would you believe me if I told you I was older than the Waste itself? That I was here long before you’re grandfathers and their parents too? Of course not, but you don’t have many more moments of questioning left, so it doesn’t matter?” I felt the tip of the blade run across my stomach. “You are only a vessel of time, a source of life and you will share that with me tonight. I have to feed on youth, you see, to stay how I am in front of you now.” She lifted one of my hands and dragged the blood covered limb over her mouth and nose covering herself in my blood while inhaling the smell. She smirked seeing my terrified eyes, but soon dropped my arm.
     “By any means,” She returned to her monolog ”it’s tricky. I don’t want to get caught, what are hundreds of more years if I cannot spend them. That is why I lure you here.” She continued to draw endless lines across the skin of my legs.
     “You’re dull friend here was too easy to fool, but many children are, they very seldom question fairytales. You however, you fought.” She smiled as she followed one the lines with her finger. “But again, does it matter? Look where you ended up. Now you get the pleasure of dying at my hand.”
     She fell silent, leaning back from me finally and observed my body as if admiring her own work. There was a shift in the air and her eye glowed. I knew I was dying, I felt how my life was slowly slipping out of all the wounds she had created. Now the blood under my skin shimmer, her hands were on my chest and my heart beat chaotically at her touch.
     Darkness rose around me. It was soft and warm almost like an embrace. My head swam in the pain unable to think straight and I welcomed the shadows, they numbed me. I thought of the times in my life when I had struggled. All of those memories, surrounded by death. It seemed horrible then, I always wanted to drag those I’d lost back the the harshness of living. Taliyah sparked in my mind and I wished I could protect her. That I could reach out and drag her with me into this dark light. The pain had left me now and I mused. There was after all, something beautiful waiting for us but not as either of us had imagined. In the somber stillness of my mind I rested easily, knowing she would soon join me.
#fantasy  #fiction  #horror  #shortstory 
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Written by Sweedle

Life

The sensualist approached me today. Dark, mysterious but beautiful at the same time. She just sauntered towards me with her seductive sway to her curvy hips and a ulterior motive beneath those red lips. She touched my hand only to offer me a key.

An old fashioned key , tied to a flimsy string attached to a tiny , rectangular card . With the word life written on it. Confused yet aroused , i held on to it as I watched her strut away. Unwilling to let her escape, I followed her . Despite being curvy, she swifted gracefully on the spiral steps that drove deeper and higher , fueling my desire. Giggling slightly she turned to face me, yet continued to walk away from me. Before I could stop her she disappeared into the corridor, I would make her pay for this I swore. I tiptoed to the corridor and there was the door I was looking for. With the word LIFE engraved on its wooden surface. I wondered what kind of life did it actually refer to? Is being lured by an enticing stranger really another life? Enough thinking, i said to myself as I unlocked the door with the key she handed over to me. I opened it to find a woman I failed to recognize before. My own wife. She stood before me, arms crossed and a hurt expression. I felt so ashamed to even look at her and make my confession. In the greed for lust, I ended up doing a blunder, just to fulfill my selfish needs. I ended up being disloyal to the one who was always faithful to me. I couldn't watch her cry , so I looked away. She didn't say a word and left me closing the door, trapping me in my misery and guilt. If this is life, then I don't want it. I just want to go back to that bed from where I woke up today. Engulfed in her embrace and soft whispers. I laid down and wept till I passed out.

I woke up to sounds of soft whispers and smooth hands on my chest. Sweaty forehead and a dreaded fear, i opened my eyes to find her cuddled up against me just like how we were this morning. I realized it was just a bad dream. A very bad dream. I muttered a silent thanks to the heavens above, as I wrapped my arms around my angel, beside me.

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Written by Sweedle
Life
The sensualist approached me today. Dark, mysterious but beautiful at the same time. She just sauntered towards me with her seductive sway to her curvy hips and a ulterior motive beneath those red lips. She touched my hand only to offer me a key.

An old fashioned key , tied to a flimsy string attached to a tiny , rectangular card . With the word life written on it. Confused yet aroused , i held on to it as I watched her strut away. Unwilling to let her escape, I followed her . Despite being curvy, she swifted gracefully on the spiral steps that drove deeper and higher , fueling my desire. Giggling slightly she turned to face me, yet continued to walk away from me. Before I could stop her she disappeared into the corridor, I would make her pay for this I swore. I tiptoed to the corridor and there was the door I was looking for. With the word LIFE engraved on its wooden surface. I wondered what kind of life did it actually refer to? Is being lured by an enticing stranger really another life? Enough thinking, i said to myself as I unlocked the door with the key she handed over to me. I opened it to find a woman I failed to recognize before. My own wife. She stood before me, arms crossed and a hurt expression. I felt so ashamed to even look at her and make my confession. In the greed for lust, I ended up doing a blunder, just to fulfill my selfish needs. I ended up being disloyal to the one who was always faithful to me. I couldn't watch her cry , so I looked away. She didn't say a word and left me closing the door, trapping me in my misery and guilt. If this is life, then I don't want it. I just want to go back to that bed from where I woke up today. Engulfed in her embrace and soft whispers. I laid down and wept till I passed out.

I woke up to sounds of soft whispers and smooth hands on my chest. Sweaty forehead and a dreaded fear, i opened my eyes to find her cuddled up against me just like how we were this morning. I realized it was just a bad dream. A very bad dream. I muttered a silent thanks to the heavens above, as I wrapped my arms around my angel, beside me.
#shortstory  #life  #relationship 
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Written by AtMilliways

Awake (pt. I)

Leaves fell to the ground that day, the first taste of an early fall. Simon saw them in the light of the street lamps before dawn when he finally gave up the pretense of trying to sleep. The thumps and grunts and sounds of pleasure coming from his roommate’s bedroom were only slightly muffled by the thin wall separating it from his. Again. It was the fourth time this week, always with a different woman and every time it was a fresh reminder that he was alone. Which wouldn’t be so bad, maybe, if Simon didn’t spend so much time imagining he was on the other side of that wall, being the one responsible for the sounds his roommate was making.

Unable to sleep, he sat on the edge of his bed and stared out the window, watching dead leaves slowly, passively drift down to litter the sidewalk. Sometimes he thought it might be better to be one of them — to just fall and not have to worry about anything beyond that final action. And yet, every time he thought it, a moan from his roommate would seep through the wall and ground him in longing.

To be so close, yet unable to touch or confess his desires without fear of rejection, was exquisite torture. Simon wondered when he would hit his limit for the bittersweet taste of it, but also worried that he didn’t have one. It seemed that his appetite was boundless, because even with the suicidal thoughts and the self loathing that coursed through him every time his roommate’s date cried out, his boxers were tented. Forbidden got him off. Eavesdropping through the wall, he was free to fantasize and no one ever needed to know his secret, and that made him feel more real and alive than anything else.

He knew the signs of his roommate’s pleasure almost as well as his own and could tell they were getting close. Tense with reluctant anticipation he finally relented, slipping a hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. As he wrapped his fingers around himself he inhaled sharply through his nose, almost dizzy with the shock of the sudden, immediate stimulation. A muffled sentence through the wall, part warning part promise part prayer, and he was right there with them. He willed the date to feel unwelcome, even while knowing he would make her pancakes in the morning as an unspoken apology for his vindictiveness. His hand sped up as their pace became frantic and his head tipped back, away from the window, away from the dead leaves, eyes falling half closed and mouth falling slightly open. There was only need now, all encompassing and warm in his pounding blood, and god it was embarrassing how long they could go when all he needed to come was to listen and join in at the last minute. Embarrassing and wonderful how he could hear the exact moment his roommate climaxed, and he joined him in back-arching pleasure that left him lying on the bed with no exact memory of falling backward.

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams that he has a wife, two kids, and job doing something with computers. The kids want a dog and won’t shut up about it, and he wants to give in but his wife won’t hear it. He escapes into work and is gratefully sucked into the problem of something not compiling properly, going into overtime to finish massaging out all the kinks in the program. Every day is more or less the same, on and on and on.

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Written by AtMilliways
Awake (pt. I)
Leaves fell to the ground that day, the first taste of an early fall. Simon saw them in the light of the street lamps before dawn when he finally gave up the pretense of trying to sleep. The thumps and grunts and sounds of pleasure coming from his roommate’s bedroom were only slightly muffled by the thin wall separating it from his. Again. It was the fourth time this week, always with a different woman and every time it was a fresh reminder that he was alone. Which wouldn’t be so bad, maybe, if Simon didn’t spend so much time imagining he was on the other side of that wall, being the one responsible for the sounds his roommate was making.

Unable to sleep, he sat on the edge of his bed and stared out the window, watching dead leaves slowly, passively drift down to litter the sidewalk. Sometimes he thought it might be better to be one of them — to just fall and not have to worry about anything beyond that final action. And yet, every time he thought it, a moan from his roommate would seep through the wall and ground him in longing.

To be so close, yet unable to touch or confess his desires without fear of rejection, was exquisite torture. Simon wondered when he would hit his limit for the bittersweet taste of it, but also worried that he didn’t have one. It seemed that his appetite was boundless, because even with the suicidal thoughts and the self loathing that coursed through him every time his roommate’s date cried out, his boxers were tented. Forbidden got him off. Eavesdropping through the wall, he was free to fantasize and no one ever needed to know his secret, and that made him feel more real and alive than anything else.

He knew the signs of his roommate’s pleasure almost as well as his own and could tell they were getting close. Tense with reluctant anticipation he finally relented, slipping a hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. As he wrapped his fingers around himself he inhaled sharply through his nose, almost dizzy with the shock of the sudden, immediate stimulation. A muffled sentence through the wall, part warning part promise part prayer, and he was right there with them. He willed the date to feel unwelcome, even while knowing he would make her pancakes in the morning as an unspoken apology for his vindictiveness. His hand sped up as their pace became frantic and his head tipped back, away from the window, away from the dead leaves, eyes falling half closed and mouth falling slightly open. There was only need now, all encompassing and warm in his pounding blood, and god it was embarrassing how long they could go when all he needed to come was to listen and join in at the last minute. Embarrassing and wonderful how he could hear the exact moment his roommate climaxed, and he joined him in back-arching pleasure that left him lying on the bed with no exact memory of falling backward.

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams that he has a wife, two kids, and job doing something with computers. The kids want a dog and won’t shut up about it, and he wants to give in but his wife won’t hear it. He escapes into work and is gratefully sucked into the problem of something not compiling properly, going into overtime to finish massaging out all the kinks in the program. Every day is more or less the same, on and on and on.
#fiction  #shortstory  #lgbt  #adultcontent  #atozchallenge 
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Written by Sweedle

Broken Angel

I hate parties. Yes, I like socialising but parties are not my thing. I don’t possess the 3 D’s that is essential for a party atmosphere – Drinking, Dancing and Dating. It seems no fun if you do not possess these aspects. Despite my distaste, I came here all decked up in a simple yet elegant black evening dress (with diamond hoops that I borrowed from my neighbour). All just in hope to catch a glimpse of him. Maybe he would look at me and talk to me. This crazy infatuation with my crush began the moment I accidentally entered his cabin, watching him hurl expletives on his Bluetooth with that glare in his eyes and a deep frown that I found strangely striking. I just mumbled an apology and left, with him watching me. Since then, I would look for ways to sneak a peek at the handsome stranger. At times, he would catch me looking at him but didn’t do anything more other than a slight twitch to his lips. I knew it was stupid and unnecessary but I couldn’t help it. And I’m here again. It’s a party meant for managers and important delegates anyway, so all I would do is find him and …… maybe mumble a hello? Perhaps offer him a drink? But I don’t drink. Panic builds up inside of me as I look here and there and my eyes land stairs leading to the rooftop. Seeing no other escape​ I rush past few guests and jog up the stairs and open the door leading to the terrace. The air is warm and windy but fresh and I find myself a bit relaxed than my earlier state.

" Fleeing from someone?" I hear a pleasant voice and whip my head to the direction it came from. There perched in the corner , sat a breathtakingly beautiful young woman wearing some kind of costume . Just like an angel with feathery wings and an equally attractive robe. She seemed to be at ease sitting at the edge of terrace with her feet dangling in thin air.

" Maybe myself " I mutter softly. She taps her finger on my shoulder and I turn to look at her.

" You would run only if you were alive " she says slowly as if I had missed an important point.

" Well I AM alive " I reply irritatingly.

She gives a sad smile. " Then why doesn't anyone notice you ?" She persists. Who is she anyway?

" A broken angel. I help broken people fix themselves back to pieces" she replies as if she read my mind.

" Why are you broken then ?" I ask her, not really interested to know her imaginative answers.

" Each time I help someone, I turn weak . A price I have to pay for the power endowned to me."

Though it's hard to believe her words , it's equally hard to ignore the meaning behind what she said.

" How do I believe you ?" I blurt out the question . She looks at me for a moment and then grabs my hand . Before I could ask her what's she doing, she just jumps. She literally jumps ! Dragging me along with her , I yell out loud in fear. I open my eyes to see myself hanging in air , one hand held by this mysterious angel of a woman. She lets go of my hand and I land on the ground with no sound. I realise I'm in the middle of the road and cars come honking, they pass through me but all I could do is stand still as if nothing happened. Startled and confused , I look at her. She flutters her shimmering wings and comes closer , offering her hand again which I grab onto instinctively. We fly again to the rooftop , and she lays me down at the same spot where I was standing just minutes ago.

" Do you believe me now ?" She asks in a casual manner. I nod my head but don't say anything. Tears emerge out from my eyes as I look down at the people walking on the streets. Is that the reason why no one really noticed me? Not even him ? I'm a dead person now.

" Do you want to live, my dear ?" She whispers softly.

I stare at her in surprise, " you can't bring me back to life!"

" Well, I can make you live again if you wish to" she smiles.

" Promise me you will live better. You won't keep things waiting too long nor will you take things or people for granted. " She holds my chin and caresses my cheek lovingly. Never have I heard such words from anyone, let alone a human.

" Yes ! I …. I promise! " I hold her hand . She nods .

" But will I see you again ?" I ask her . She offers me that sad smile again.

" I hope you don't . I won't live that long . Now close your eyes child , you're about to wake up alive" she closes my eyes with her cool soft hands. I feel a faint kiss on my forehead and my world goes black.

I open my eyes again and find myself in the same cabin I had accidentally got into . I find him staring at me with a blank question.

" Hi " I mumble. " Hello" he replies

" Can you see me? " I ask him nervously. His lips twitch , " I guess I can. Can you see me? " He mimicks my question. My throat hurts , as I remember her.

" All the time " I whisper………….

my broken angel saved me , once again.

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Written by Sweedle
Broken Angel
I hate parties. Yes, I like socialising but parties are not my thing. I don’t possess the 3 D’s that is essential for a party atmosphere – Drinking, Dancing and Dating. It seems no fun if you do not possess these aspects. Despite my distaste, I came here all decked up in a simple yet elegant black evening dress (with diamond hoops that I borrowed from my neighbour). All just in hope to catch a glimpse of him. Maybe he would look at me and talk to me. This crazy infatuation with my crush began the moment I accidentally entered his cabin, watching him hurl expletives on his Bluetooth with that glare in his eyes and a deep frown that I found strangely striking. I just mumbled an apology and left, with him watching me. Since then, I would look for ways to sneak a peek at the handsome stranger. At times, he would catch me looking at him but didn’t do anything more other than a slight twitch to his lips. I knew it was stupid and unnecessary but I couldn’t help it. And I’m here again. It’s a party meant for managers and important delegates anyway, so all I would do is find him and …… maybe mumble a hello? Perhaps offer him a drink? But I don’t drink. Panic builds up inside of me as I look here and there and my eyes land stairs leading to the rooftop. Seeing no other escape​ I rush past few guests and jog up the stairs and open the door leading to the terrace. The air is warm and windy but fresh and I find myself a bit relaxed than my earlier state.

" Fleeing from someone?" I hear a pleasant voice and whip my head to the direction it came from. There perched in the corner , sat a breathtakingly beautiful young woman wearing some kind of costume . Just like an angel with feathery wings and an equally attractive robe. She seemed to be at ease sitting at the edge of terrace with her feet dangling in thin air.

" Maybe myself " I mutter softly. She taps her finger on my shoulder and I turn to look at her.

" You would run only if you were alive " she says slowly as if I had missed an important point.

" Well I AM alive " I reply irritatingly.

She gives a sad smile. " Then why doesn't anyone notice you ?" She persists. Who is she anyway?

" A broken angel. I help broken people fix themselves back to pieces" she replies as if she read my mind.

" Why are you broken then ?" I ask her, not really interested to know her imaginative answers.

" Each time I help someone, I turn weak . A price I have to pay for the power endowned to me."

Though it's hard to believe her words , it's equally hard to ignore the meaning behind what she said.

" How do I believe you ?" I blurt out the question . She looks at me for a moment and then grabs my hand . Before I could ask her what's she doing, she just jumps. She literally jumps ! Dragging me along with her , I yell out loud in fear. I open my eyes to see myself hanging in air , one hand held by this mysterious angel of a woman. She lets go of my hand and I land on the ground with no sound. I realise I'm in the middle of the road and cars come honking, they pass through me but all I could do is stand still as if nothing happened. Startled and confused , I look at her. She flutters her shimmering wings and comes closer , offering her hand again which I grab onto instinctively. We fly again to the rooftop , and she lays me down at the same spot where I was standing just minutes ago.

" Do you believe me now ?" She asks in a casual manner. I nod my head but don't say anything. Tears emerge out from my eyes as I look down at the people walking on the streets. Is that the reason why no one really noticed me? Not even him ? I'm a dead person now.

" Do you want to live, my dear ?" She whispers softly.

I stare at her in surprise, " you can't bring me back to life!"

" Well, I can make you live again if you wish to" she smiles.

" Promise me you will live better. You won't keep things waiting too long nor will you take things or people for granted. " She holds my chin and caresses my cheek lovingly. Never have I heard such words from anyone, let alone a human.

" Yes ! I …. I promise! " I hold her hand . She nods .

" But will I see you again ?" I ask her . She offers me that sad smile again.

" I hope you don't . I won't live that long . Now close your eyes child , you're about to wake up alive" she closes my eyes with her cool soft hands. I feel a faint kiss on my forehead and my world goes black.

I open my eyes again and find myself in the same cabin I had accidentally got into . I find him staring at me with a blank question.

" Hi " I mumble. " Hello" he replies

" Can you see me? " I ask him nervously. His lips twitch , " I guess I can. Can you see me? " He mimicks my question. My throat hurts , as I remember her.

" All the time " I whisper………….

my broken angel saved me , once again.


#shortstory  #angel  #secondchances 
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Written by Yvette

Another One

           

 

          

"What did you say?" She asked the man behind the bar pouring drinks. The music was loud and she couldn't quite make out what he said at first. She began to hear the words in her head.

"You're a beautiful woman."

Wow, it had been so long since she heard that. The tingle in her stomach provoked a smirk on her lips. She had just finished sipping on her third cosmopolitan and asked for another one when she heard,

"You're a beautiful woman"

He must've said it with sincerity since at this point he was staring dead at her with no readable expression on his face. He was just a bartender but he was still kind of cute. Definitely not her type but she might be down for one night of fun. It had also been a while since she’d had…fun. Her heart was pounding louder than the music. The words played back in her head.

"You're a beautiful woman."

It felt ten degrees warmer. Her pulse quickened. Yea that must've been what he said, but she wanted to be sure before she gave a full-on smile.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said you're a horrible woman!"

Shock immediately ran through her body. Horrible? 

"Hey!"

"No hey! You're kind of a bitch!" A chorus of "ooo’s" could be heard behind the music. Horrible was nothing like beautiful. Wait a minute, and what the fuck! She couldn’t find the words,

"Wha…what!"

"You ran over multiple people just to get to the corner. You cussed out a woman in a wheelchair, you spilled your drink on another girl, and you've been bitching about my drinks all night!" At this point it was clear his expression was angry.

She had felt the woman in the wheelchair was just being manipulative, using her wheelchair to get quick drinks…making everyone move out of her way to let her to the front of the line. In fact, she questioned if she really needed it.

"I mean you're clearly another one of those entitled, Carrie Bradshaw wanna-be, princesses!" Ouch! That one hurt.

"I mean look at you! What the fuck year do you think it is, and how old are you!" He slammed his palm down on the bar top. "Isn't there an age limit for Manhattan princesses? Your desperate attempt to distract us from your pissy attitude with your boobs poppin' out of that ‘Baby Gap’ tank. At what point do you stop being a princess and start just being a lame-ass excuse for a middle-aged bitch!"

That one really hurt. Yes, she had been binge watching seasons three through five of Sex and the City and both of the movies over the weekend; and yes, she had gone out tonight on a stroke of inspiration as a result. She was only thirty-five! She was nowhere near middle-aged, though she always feared the day she would start looking it. She had worn her favorite baby pink tutu skirt. She had it for years. She never felt she had the legs to pull it off and by the time she finally got the confidence to do so, the look had played out. But tonight, she was inspired and she went with it. She felt pretty hot, until now.

He continued, "And don't think I didn't notice you never tipped me!” He pointed, “How can you be such an awful human being and on top of that, not tip? I mean, if you're gonna be such a cunt you can at least pay for it!”

"Ohhhh!" yelled one smiling woman standing next to her, holding one hand shaped like an "O" over her mouth and leaning back as she said it. She was the girl she spilled her drink on earlier. Even though it was just water, the girl was clearly enjoying this.

The music was loud again. She could no longer hear what he was saying. She could just see his lips moving and his hands waving. He was going full off on her. Like he had run into a thousand women just like her. Like he had held his composure all night and decided to finally release all his life's disgust over women like her in this one moment. She froze. She could see the riotous laughter rolling across the blended faces of those gathered around the bar. One group of young guys in the corner were holding their stomachs in laughter, while a few others were applauding and cheering him on.

She knew this wasn't right. He was just a bartender who worked here, she was a customer! He shouldn't be talking to her that way, but she couldn't seem to do anything about it. She just stood there with a stunned look on her face. She wanted to tell him to fuck off! She wanted to ask him how old he was and that his shirt was tighter than hers! She wanted to tell him she probably reminded him of his ex who left his ass and now he was bitter. She wanted to tell him that she wasn't entitled, she just knew she was better than him. She wanted to tell him that she's reporting him to the club owner and getting his ass fired! But she couldn't. Her lips seemed disconnected from her thoughts. All she could sputter out was, "My father owns this place, and… and…you're done." She didn't even sound harsh, just shy and mousey. Her body was finally able to move and she turned and ran for the exit. Another chorus of laughter ensued.

"Yea, yea that's right! Run and tell your daddy!" He yelled.

It wasn't even true. Her father was a successful business man who owned several businesses in the Manhattan and Brooklyn area, but this was not one of them. She made her way into the hallway and pressed the down button for the elevator. She didn't dare look behind her. She stood there alone, sweating, and breathing hard. The elevator couldn't come fast enough. Just then she heard the ping and then the elevator doors slid open. She scurried in and pressed the LL button. She let out a deep breath.

Just before the doors closed, a man squeezed in-between the doors. He pressed the P3 button. She rolled her eyes. She just wanted to be away from this place. The man turned and looked at her. She glanced back at him and lowered her eyes. He was handsome and kind of looked like a younger version of Mr. Big with a mustache. His eyes widened as he looked at her and smiled.

"You're the horrible woman."

What! Not this shit again! Another one who thinks he knows her! She couldn't believe he said that. What, did he run and follow her out here just to laugh at her some more? That does it!

"Fuck you! Fuck your mother! Fuck your whole damn existence! God! What is it with you hipster pricks, are you too lazy to be gentlemen! No! Impossible, cus you’re not real damn men, are you? No, you're perpetual boy-men who don't know how to earn money and actually be successful enough to attract a woman like me!

The man threw up both hands and stepped back. “Whoa! Wait a minute…”

“No whoa!” She interrupted.  “Man, you're an ass-hole! What is it? Your ex-wife was just like me? She got tired of fucking with your sucky ass and what… you came home one day to find her fucking her CEO boss! Yea, I bet that made your boy balls shrivel into shit! And now you hate women like me, every time you see us because we remind you that you aren't man enough to get your shit together! Instead of stepping up your fucking game to get to my fucking level, you whine and complain like 12-year old assholes because we won't give you the time of day! Yea ok, maybe I am a horrible bitch to boys like you-but it’s because I know that I'm better than you! That's right, I said it!"

The elevator doors opened and the LL level light lit up. She stomped out of the elevator past a overly muscular man in a red collared shirt stepping into it. She turned to face the man she was telling off.

“So, the next time you see a woman like me, DON'T! SAY! SHIT! Because a prick like you doesn't deserve a response! But this one...this one was on me!" She turned on her red heels and stomped toward the exit.

The two men in the elevator stood stunned as the doors closed them in.

"Wow man, what did you do to her?"

"Nothing! I…I just said she was a beautiful woman!"

The man with the red shirt shook his head, "Fucking feminist bullshit. Dude, you never know what you can say anymore."

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Written by Yvette
Another One
           
 
          
"What did you say?" She asked the man behind the bar pouring drinks. The music was loud and she couldn't quite make out what he said at first. She began to hear the words in her head.

"You're a beautiful woman."

Wow, it had been so long since she heard that. The tingle in her stomach provoked a smirk on her lips. She had just finished sipping on her third cosmopolitan and asked for another one when she heard,

"You're a beautiful woman"

He must've said it with sincerity since at this point he was staring dead at her with no readable expression on his face. He was just a bartender but he was still kind of cute. Definitely not her type but she might be down for one night of fun. It had also been a while since she’d had…fun. Her heart was pounding louder than the music. The words played back in her head.

"You're a beautiful woman."

It felt ten degrees warmer. Her pulse quickened. Yea that must've been what he said, but she wanted to be sure before she gave a full-on smile.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I said you're a horrible woman!"
Shock immediately ran through her body. Horrible? 
"Hey!"
"No hey! You're kind of a bitch!" A chorus of "ooo’s" could be heard behind the music. Horrible was nothing like beautiful. Wait a minute, and what the fuck! She couldn’t find the words,
"Wha…what!"
"You ran over multiple people just to get to the corner. You cussed out a woman in a wheelchair, you spilled your drink on another girl, and you've been bitching about my drinks all night!" At this point it was clear his expression was angry.

She had felt the woman in the wheelchair was just being manipulative, using her wheelchair to get quick drinks…making everyone move out of her way to let her to the front of the line. In fact, she questioned if she really needed it.

"I mean you're clearly another one of those entitled, Carrie Bradshaw wanna-be, princesses!" Ouch! That one hurt.
"I mean look at you! What the fuck year do you think it is, and how old are you!" He slammed his palm down on the bar top. "Isn't there an age limit for Manhattan princesses? Your desperate attempt to distract us from your pissy attitude with your boobs poppin' out of that ‘Baby Gap’ tank. At what point do you stop being a princess and start just being a lame-ass excuse for a middle-aged bitch!"

That one really hurt. Yes, she had been binge watching seasons three through five of Sex and the City and both of the movies over the weekend; and yes, she had gone out tonight on a stroke of inspiration as a result. She was only thirty-five! She was nowhere near middle-aged, though she always feared the day she would start looking it. She had worn her favorite baby pink tutu skirt. She had it for years. She never felt she had the legs to pull it off and by the time she finally got the confidence to do so, the look had played out. But tonight, she was inspired and she went with it. She felt pretty hot, until now.

He continued, "And don't think I didn't notice you never tipped me!” He pointed, “How can you be such an awful human being and on top of that, not tip? I mean, if you're gonna be such a cunt you can at least pay for it!”

"Ohhhh!" yelled one smiling woman standing next to her, holding one hand shaped like an "O" over her mouth and leaning back as she said it. She was the girl she spilled her drink on earlier. Even though it was just water, the girl was clearly enjoying this.

The music was loud again. She could no longer hear what he was saying. She could just see his lips moving and his hands waving. He was going full off on her. Like he had run into a thousand women just like her. Like he had held his composure all night and decided to finally release all his life's disgust over women like her in this one moment. She froze. She could see the riotous laughter rolling across the blended faces of those gathered around the bar. One group of young guys in the corner were holding their stomachs in laughter, while a few others were applauding and cheering him on.

She knew this wasn't right. He was just a bartender who worked here, she was a customer! He shouldn't be talking to her that way, but she couldn't seem to do anything about it. She just stood there with a stunned look on her face. She wanted to tell him to fuck off! She wanted to ask him how old he was and that his shirt was tighter than hers! She wanted to tell him she probably reminded him of his ex who left his ass and now he was bitter. She wanted to tell him that she wasn't entitled, she just knew she was better than him. She wanted to tell him that she's reporting him to the club owner and getting his ass fired! But she couldn't. Her lips seemed disconnected from her thoughts. All she could sputter out was, "My father owns this place, and… and…you're done." She didn't even sound harsh, just shy and mousey. Her body was finally able to move and she turned and ran for the exit. Another chorus of laughter ensued.

"Yea, yea that's right! Run and tell your daddy!" He yelled.

It wasn't even true. Her father was a successful business man who owned several businesses in the Manhattan and Brooklyn area, but this was not one of them. She made her way into the hallway and pressed the down button for the elevator. She didn't dare look behind her. She stood there alone, sweating, and breathing hard. The elevator couldn't come fast enough. Just then she heard the ping and then the elevator doors slid open. She scurried in and pressed the LL button. She let out a deep breath.

Just before the doors closed, a man squeezed in-between the doors. He pressed the P3 button. She rolled her eyes. She just wanted to be away from this place. The man turned and looked at her. She glanced back at him and lowered her eyes. He was handsome and kind of looked like a younger version of Mr. Big with a mustache. His eyes widened as he looked at her and smiled.

"You're the horrible woman."

What! Not this shit again! Another one who thinks he knows her! She couldn't believe he said that. What, did he run and follow her out here just to laugh at her some more? That does it!

"Fuck you! Fuck your mother! Fuck your whole damn existence! God! What is it with you hipster pricks, are you too lazy to be gentlemen! No! Impossible, cus you’re not real damn men, are you? No, you're perpetual boy-men who don't know how to earn money and actually be successful enough to attract a woman like me!

The man threw up both hands and stepped back. “Whoa! Wait a minute…”

“No whoa!” She interrupted.  “Man, you're an ass-hole! What is it? Your ex-wife was just like me? She got tired of fucking with your sucky ass and what… you came home one day to find her fucking her CEO boss! Yea, I bet that made your boy balls shrivel into shit! And now you hate women like me, every time you see us because we remind you that you aren't man enough to get your shit together! Instead of stepping up your fucking game to get to my fucking level, you whine and complain like 12-year old assholes because we won't give you the time of day! Yea ok, maybe I am a horrible bitch to boys like you-but it’s because I know that I'm better than you! That's right, I said it!"

The elevator doors opened and the LL level light lit up. She stomped out of the elevator past a overly muscular man in a red collared shirt stepping into it. She turned to face the man she was telling off.

“So, the next time you see a woman like me, DON'T! SAY! SHIT! Because a prick like you doesn't deserve a response! But this one...this one was on me!" She turned on her red heels and stomped toward the exit.

The two men in the elevator stood stunned as the doors closed them in.
"Wow man, what did you do to her?"
"Nothing! I…I just said she was a beautiful woman!"
The man with the red shirt shook his head, "Fucking feminist bullshit. Dude, you never know what you can say anymore."
#shortstory  #bar  #ThirtySomething  #Drinks 
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Written by GenQ20

Like a Lie

Every touch, every kiss, left like a lie. He knew it. I knew it. And yet here he was, kissing up my neck and caressing my hips. These lies we held between us wouldn't stop us. Every promise made in bed, another lie to bring us closer, together. We know this is where the line ends because by tomorrow in the AM he'll be going to work and I'll be going home.

At home, every word and every look was filled with knowing. Every good morning and goodbye could be our last. I never said a word and neither did he but we both knew better. And though we were always so close to being broken some night would bring us closer again. All the words I said, some were lies and some were truth. We'd both knew where I'd been and he loved me still.

I was living two lives and thought I could keep them both up. Even with my secret ways, we all knew what was going on. Every smile was a lie on both sides and a lie to myself. I could feel myself bursting at the edges. Neither was enough, never satisfied. I had all I wanted, both loved who I was even when my love wavered and veered in all directions.

Things got strange when one day, I came home and I found the two having conversations in my kitchen. And even though they knew of each other they hated the other. I stood there, conflicted and pulled every which way. 

To rest my hands on my husband's shoulders? To kiss their cheeks? Who to kiss first?

I only saw one way to go. A smirk and a wink and they knew. A tie in each hand I lead the way. They share a look, I glance back. Now we can all get what we want. An equal share. No more secrets. No more wondering what happens while I'm away. 

Now every touch and every kiss became my prayer. Even if lies poured from my lips for either, my two gods tried to love the sinner more than the other.

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Written by GenQ20
Like a Lie
Every touch, every kiss, left like a lie. He knew it. I knew it. And yet here he was, kissing up my neck and caressing my hips. These lies we held between us wouldn't stop us. Every promise made in bed, another lie to bring us closer, together. We know this is where the line ends because by tomorrow in the AM he'll be going to work and I'll be going home.

At home, every word and every look was filled with knowing. Every good morning and goodbye could be our last. I never said a word and neither did he but we both knew better. And though we were always so close to being broken some night would bring us closer again. All the words I said, some were lies and some were truth. We'd both knew where I'd been and he loved me still.

I was living two lives and thought I could keep them both up. Even with my secret ways, we all knew what was going on. Every smile was a lie on both sides and a lie to myself. I could feel myself bursting at the edges. Neither was enough, never satisfied. I had all I wanted, both loved who I was even when my love wavered and veered in all directions.

Things got strange when one day, I came home and I found the two having conversations in my kitchen. And even though they knew of each other they hated the other. I stood there, conflicted and pulled every which way. 
To rest my hands on my husband's shoulders? To kiss their cheeks? Who to kiss first?

I only saw one way to go. A smirk and a wink and they knew. A tie in each hand I lead the way. They share a look, I glance back. Now we can all get what we want. An equal share. No more secrets. No more wondering what happens while I'm away. 

Now every touch and every kiss became my prayer. Even if lies poured from my lips for either, my two gods tried to love the sinner more than the other.
#fiction  #romance  #shortstory  #prosechallenge  #infidelity 
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Juice
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Write the most heartbreaking, saddest short story you can come up with in a single paragraph (3-6 sentences). 20 coins to the one that can make me cry.
Written by GenQ20 in portal Flash Fiction

Champion

My fingers brush across his soft black mane, his pained cry broke my heart further. I felt his pain and he felt mine. Champion was once my only comfort and now it was my turn to comfort him in his darkest hour. Champion's neighs made tears fall from my eyes like they had for John. I pressed my forehead to his large cheek, his breathing labored but his eyes looked to me and I into his. We both knew what was coming; he maybe be going now but we both knew I wouldn't be far behind, "Goodbye, my Champion."

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Write the most heartbreaking, saddest short story you can come up with in a single paragraph (3-6 sentences). 20 coins to the one that can make me cry.
Written by GenQ20 in portal Flash Fiction
Champion
My fingers brush across his soft black mane, his pained cry broke my heart further. I felt his pain and he felt mine. Champion was once my only comfort and now it was my turn to comfort him in his darkest hour. Champion's neighs made tears fall from my eyes like they had for John. I pressed my forehead to his large cheek, his breathing labored but his eyes looked to me and I into his. We both knew what was coming; he maybe be going now but we both knew I wouldn't be far behind, "Goodbye, my Champion."

#shortstory  #prosechallenge  #sad  #animals  #horses 
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Juice
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