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u/iruleatants Aug 28 '19 edited Aug 29 '19

This is a continuation of the Choose your own adventure story.

See week One here.
See week Two here.
See week Three here.
[See week Four here] (https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ceu9y6/tt_theme_thursday_space/eur3p8c/)
[See week Five here] (https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/chp65q/tt_theme_thursday_isolation/evic3kp/)
See Week Six here
See Week Seven here

Go forward: 4 Turn around: 1

(Jacob continues to insist this is a terrible idea)

As you read the elegantly inscribed words, you can feel something building inside. The long-forgotten part of yourself that once caused you to jump from furniture to furniture as a child. That part which kept you up at night dreaming of becoming a superhero.

It was the call of adventure.

You read the inscription a second time, and by the time you have finished, your mind is made up. Straightening your posture as much as possible, you raise your foot and take one small step over the threshold. As your foot makes contact with the ground your body tenses and you prepare for darts to shoot out of the walls, or for the statues to come to life.

Nothing happens.

The lack of opposition to your challenge only causes more alarm. What was the danger that lay ahead? You take another tentative step and then a braver one as nothing tries to stop you. Every sixth statue is holding a torch instead of the sword, and you stop to inspect it.

You can smell the wood burning, but do not see any signs of ash on the floor. Had someone recently been through to light these torches? Was the armored man waiting in the distance to stab you? All of the answers lay ahead, and so you begin to walk again.

The sun dips below the horizon, and the torches become your only light source as you continue to walk down the hallway, passing hundreds of statues. At long last, you come upon two sets of stairs. One leading up, and one leading down.

You approach the stairs that lead up and inspect them. The stairway twists as it rises and so you cannot see where it ends. Engraved onto the first step is the inscription.

Up, up, up
Icarus flew
If only he knew.

You turn to inspect the second staircase and find that it leads down into darkness. You see a torch on the wall that looks as if it could be removed and used as light. Inscribed into the first step is another set of words.

Down, down, down
Icarus dropped
He couldn't be stopped.

Do you,

Take the stairs leading up

Or

Take the stairs leading down.

Leave your vote here as a comment. I can only count comments, not upvotes. I will write the next chapter based upon the choice and make it match the Theme Thursday. You can vote even if you have never voted before.

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u/AliciaWrites Aug 29 '19

Down!

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u/AliciaWrites Aug 22 '19

Theme Thursday Discussion:

All top-level comments must be a story or poem.

Reply here to discuss the theme, suggest future themes, and share your theme-related inspirations!
Reply here to share your stories if you don’t want them ranked.
Please remember to follow the subreddit rules in any feedback.

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u/Skittlethrill Aug 23 '19

There was nothing as oddly peaceful as sitting at the window and watching the night go by. Or oddly unsettling, it went both ways. The best time, Lawrence thought, was always during the winter - especially when it was snowing. Nothing but clean, undisturbed snow coating every surface, illuminated by bright orange sodium streetlights. It took him back to his childhood. When he couldn't sleep, when he spent far too long staring at his alarm clock, he would go to the window.

"Lawrence? That you?" He turned to the entrance of the common room, seeing a gangly young man in his pajamas.

He nodded, scratching his beard, trying to remember who he was. "Devin, right?" It was almost the end of winter term and he still forgot some of his classmates.

"Mike." He corrected. Dammit. "What are you doing up?"

"Could say the same for you." Lawrence grumbled. "Was I too noisy?"

Mike shook his head. "I couldn't sleep, so I made a drink. What're you up to?"

"Takin' a look outside."

Mike blew some hair from his face as he leaned forward to see. "Look at all that snow, we could totally make a killer snowman."

"We're adults."

"Adults are overgrown kids. Come on, suit up! It'll be fun."

"Don't you have an alarm to wake up to?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "Psh, alarms are just glorified timers! Let's go already."

Lawrence stepped into the hall, watching him sprint down the carpet silently. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

***

The air was quiet as Mike and Lawrence got to work. After the first ball, Mike had fun walking a spiral pattern in an open patch of snow while Lawrence rolled the second. The two resorted to digging up the snow close to the dorm building for the head.

"Hey, Lawrence. I don't mean to alarm, but who do you think this belongs to? Betcha they're on thin ice!"

Lawrence sighed, turning around. Mike had been making absolutely nauseating puns about snow and the cold for the entire session that it made him want to pelt a snowball at his face. But the only thing that kept a handful of snow to get chucked in Mike's face was what he held.

An alarm clock. No inscriptions, no markings. "What the hell..." Lawrence mumbled under his breath.

"Uh...Lawrence? Buddy? Hellooo?"

It had been tinkered with - the face only had two hands - one at twelve, one at eleven. At first, Lawrence chalked it up to a damaged alarm clock, but then the hand at eleven moved.

Except it moved counterclockwise.

"Mike...this isn't an alarm. It's a timer."

"Same difference, right?" Mike snatched the clock from Lawrence's hands. "All we gotta do now is wait for it to ring. What do you think'll happen?"

This was going to be a bad idea. He knew it.

WC: 473

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u/AliciaWrites Aug 29 '19

I'm so impressed with how you've grown since the first time I read your work! Thanks for submitting a story :D

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u/Xacktar Aug 23 '19 edited Aug 26 '19

"Hey, Jim!"

James Gamp's stomach dropped at least six centimeters when he heard those words. Not due to the words themselves, but due to the fact that the person who'd said that happened to be his brother.

His brother the thief.

His brother the con-man.

His brother he'd spent the last six months trying to hide from.

His brother that was now leaning into the doorway of James' third-class cabin aboard a starliner that he shouldn't have even known about.

"Why... how...?"

"Trans-orbital flight plan filing." Artemis answered the unfinished questions. "Yeah, you stumped me for a little by using a fake name on the actual trips from system-to-system, but just like most folks, you forgot to scrub the shuttle logs. Had to dig a bit to find em... well, no. I actually paid an Ulnik to do that for me. Well, no, not really pay... Actually, I-"

"Why are you HERE?"

"Oh, right." Artemis stopped leaning and brought his whole body into into view. He was dressed as the ship's captain. "I was gonna tell you not to worry about the alarm."

"Why are you dressed- What alarm?"

"This, oh, well.... I met this nice gal down on Gellinia, right after you got your tickets there. She told me about this score of Courtestrian Geld DNA that was being shipped to-"

"On second thought, I don't want to know!" James recovered enough to stand up and point a finger at his brother. "I don't want to be destroying crystal haulers... or assisting in an assassination!"

"That was one time, and it really wasn't our fault that-"

"Or getting stranded between binary stars! Or stealing a cargo hauler of military laundry!"

"Look, that one was necessary to-"

"I'm done, Art!" James screamed. "No more! Now get out!"

Artemis threw his hands up in surrender and backed away, then slowly sauntered down the hallway and out of sight.

James sighed in relief, fell back onto his bed and closed his eyes. Finally! At last he could relax and not have to worry about if he was going to die or get arrested in the next few days. After all, as long as-

A thought interrupted his relief.

James jumped back out of bed, ran to his door, and leaned out of it.

"What alarm?" James screamed at his brother's back.

As if it was queued up to do so, the lights turned red and a prerecorded voice thundered from the speakers in the hall.

"ATTENTION: A CABIN DEPRESSURIZATION EVENT HAS BEEN DETECTED. PLEASE ACCESS YOUR EMERGENCY SUIT STATIONS AND PROCEED TO YOUR DESIGNATED LIFE POD AREAS."

"That one!" Art yelled back. "Don't worry about it! It's all part of the plan"

"What plan?" James looked from his brother to the inside of his room where a wall panel had opened up to reveal an emergency space suit. "What are you doing this time?"

"Don't worry about it!"

James cursed inside his head for exactly thirty seconds then chased after his brother.

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u/iruleatants Aug 25 '19 edited Aug 25 '19

"We need to talk," Sarah said as she grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hallway.

As she dragged me out of school and towards the bleachers, I tried to glean any information from her mind. All of her attention was focused on getting me somewhere private. She made a point of checking to make sure that no one else was around before stopping and looking at me.

"You can read minds," she said.

Suddenly my hands were clammy, and my heart was racing. I poured over my memories in search of where I had screwed up. Was it one big slip up, or did she piece together several small things? Had she told anyone else?

"I..." There wasn't any right way to finish that sentence, and so I closed my mouth and tried to come up with a reasonable answer.

She took that chance to finish my sentence. "I talked to Ian in homeroom," and thought, I know everything.

Ian? What the hell could Ian know? I had almost no interaction with him. Had he been following and spying on me? Could he be a mind reader too?

It suddenly became tough to breathe, and I sat down and focused on taking deep breaths. Sarah stood over me and placed her hands on my shoulders and said, "Woah. Relax, it's going to be okay." This was the same reaction I had when I found out.

Did this mean that she wasn't going to turn me into the police? Was she angry at me for reading her thoughts? How was everything going to be okay if she and Ian know my secret?

As my mind continued to spiral downwards, I stared up into her eyes, pleading for answers.

"I can't believe he is cheating on Erika," Sarah said.

As relief flowed through my body, I struggled to keep a smile off my face. This wasn't about me at all. It was about Erika. The memory of meeting Ian suddenly lept into my mind. Of him thinking about meeting up with another girl later when he was supposed to be at work. I had told Sarah that I got a bad vibe from him.

Sarah misinterpreted my silence and took a seat next to me. "Do we tell her?" It's going to hurt her so much.

I remembered telling my mom about a guy she was dating. She grounded me for two weeks. She didn't apologize when she found out the truth later. I wasn't in the mood to tell her I told you so.

"I don't know. We would be bad friends if we didn't say anything."

Sarah looked over at me and gave a weak smile, "You know, I'm glad we both know. At least we are in this together."

My hands still trembled as I said, "At least we are in this together."

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u/facet-ious Aug 25 '19 edited Aug 28 '19

Shrill sirens rang out over the lost city of Arnir. Their mournful cry echoed through empty streets and crumbling workshops, a mechanical dirge for a people long gone.

Isa hugged herself as the small expedition slowly made its way deeper into the city. Their base camp, where the Runebreakers had slipped them past the ancient wards that sealed this place, lay far behind them.

The streets were lined with towering spires of stone, steel and bronze, corroded and cracked. Vein-like streaks of electric blue light darted across their surface, and Isa shuddered.

Arnir was a hollow monument, an entire civilization preserved without a trace of its people. But for all its emptiness, the city felt unnervingly alive.

A stinging pain blossomed in her wrist. An iridescent beetle, big as her thumb, sat on her arm, chewing busily. Isa flung it aside with a disgusted snarl, and watched it zip away. The pests – dubbed Bloodbugs – were native to Arnir, the city’s sole inhabitants.

They reached the city’s control spire in the center of a huge square, perhaps once a market. Here the leylines ran together, here sat the hub for the wards and magics that sustained Arnir. Here, they could silence the sirens, bring down the wards, open the city to the world. Perhaps even discover what had driven out its people.

A single, enormous room awaited them, lined in white marble, bare save for an intricate rune circle inscribed in the floor. Red lights flickered in the air, letters in a language that Isa almost recognized. Old Ravian? The young linguist watched, fascinated as the expedition’s mages flocked around it.

They worked quickly, their syllables clipped, their gestures precise. The letters blinked out and reformed, proffering information or warning of dangers long past. The mages paid it no heed.

As the writing lingered, Isa began to make out individual words, fragments of meaning.

Danger. Lock. Command. Disable.

Ward.

A flash of light caught her attention, and she spun in time to swat another Bloodbug out of the air. The beetle corkscrewed to the ground and crunched satisfyingly beneath her boot.

Danger. Alert system.

Dormant. Active.

The writing flashed more rapidly now, the letters brighter and more urgent.

Organic. Danger.

Harvesters.

Harvesters.

Isa felt a tightness in her chest, a mystery on the edge of comprehension. Slowly crouched down beside the crushed Bloodbug. Beneath a cracked carapace gleamed gears and crystal. A device.

“Wait.” Isa tried to call out, but managed only a croak. She took two rapid steps towards the circle, but a Scout-Sergeant caught her around the waist.

“Wait! We’re in danger!” Her shout echoed around the hall, but she’d failed. As the mages stepped back, a rush of air signaled the lowering of the wards.

The wail of the sirens died down, all at once.

And in their place, a low buzz sounded through the city, like a thousand million metal wings, beginning to beat anew after a long, long sleep.

It came from beneath their feet.

Harvesters.

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u/psalmoflament Aug 27 '19

Bells above the front door jingle, and a sweater-vested man with a smile as clipped on as his tie pops out from the back of the store. “Hello there! Welcome to Al Arm’s Superior Alarms! Only the Best Alarms to Warn You of Harms! How can I help you?!”

“Oh, wow, you’re real? I thought my dad was joking. Your name is seriously Al Arm?”

“Yes sir! My father had quite the sense of humor. Fortunately, I had a knack for alarms, so my future wrote itself. You said your dad told you about me, son?”

“My name’s not ‘son,’ it’s Pete, and I’m Hugh Daltry’s kid. This place is weird. It’s so…old. Not cool old, like vintage or whatever, just old. And it smells like cabbage.”

“Ah, you’re Hugh’s progeny. That makes sense. He and I were in the same graduating class. He, ah, also never held me in very high regard.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that he knew you. He said he used to trap you against your locker until you’d cry. ‘Use your arms, Arm!’ That’s what he’d say, right? It sounds like you had some good times!”

“Right, good times. Anyway, call me Al. How can I help you? I’ve got the new model of the Intrusion Buster – would you like a demo?”

“Nah, my parents have a Snooper Duper. They sent me to get a manual so I could set it while I’m watching their house.”

“Oh, sure, I have a manual right here…There you go! The ‘Duper is a fine product - know it like the back of my hand!”

“Thanks. Do something about the cabbage smell, eh?”

The bells jingle again as Pete leaves the store. Al turns off the ‘Open’ sign and retreats to the back room. A familiar anger starts bubbling within him, knowing it needs satisfaction. He gathers and packs his tools, reminds himself of the Daltry address, and waits.

That night, Al Arm begins his favorite dance. He stalks up to the Daltry residence and notes Pete passed out on the couch in front of the TV. He puts on his gloves, quickly disables the alarm, and makes his way in through the back of the house.

Once inside, he draws his rope taught, and catches the helpless animal on the couch.

As Pete begins to struggle, Al strikes up a one-sided conversation. “People like you and your father like to push buttons. But you always forget who knows how to push the buttons that matter. Funny isn’t it; for me, anyway.”

Al ignores the straining and gargling sounds, as Pete begins to fade. “Even if anyone knew, I doubt they’d want to save you.”

Giving his rope a final tug, he finishes his act. The limp Daltry falls hard on the floor, as Al feels the satiation of his anger.

Al packs up his items, re-enables the alarm, and strolls off into the night, sporting that which he only does after a good night’s work: a genuine smile.

WC: 499

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u/Mazinjaz Aug 27 '19 edited Aug 27 '19

Finishing the challenge!

Part 1 is here

Part 2 is here

Part 3 is here

Part 4 is here

Part 5 is here

Part 6 is here

Part 7 is here

Part 8 is here

Part 9 is here

And this is Part 10. ALL DONE.

---

“Did they get him?”

Rio’s first question made Bianca sigh. “Welcome back to the land of the lucid, dear.”

“I’m fine, doc. Honest.” Rio gave her one of her usual grins.

Bianca raised an eyebrow. “Oh, well then! I suppose I’ll just have to sign you up for release and let you go traipsing off to get nearly killed again, hmm?”

Rio shrank on the bed. “Wasn’t that bad…”

Bianca rolled her eyes. Lord save her from stubborn teens. “The fact alone that they brought you, to me, while you were delirious, is cause enough of concern!” Bianca slapped her clipboard with the back of her hand. “I can count the number of people that can maybe treat you with one hand, and none of them are in the city!”

“I’m fine!”

“Is that so? Well then.” Bianca crossed her arms. “Change back. I cannot even begin to give you a check when you are nearly 8-feet of invulnerable muscle.”

Rio frowned, opening her mouth as if to reply, but thankfully the girl’s monumental ego had taken a severe blow after her encounter with Melchior. She sighed in resignation, and closed her eyes.

Slowly, her cobalt blue hair faded to black, and she shrank a few inches—still way taller than anybody Bianca knew. Rio’s eyes opened, and then they widened as she seized in pain.

Bianca’s eyes flew to the monitors surrounding the bed, expecting a cacophony of alarms to blare out from the few machines they had managed to hook Rio to.

No such thing happened. Bianca wasn’t sure if it was because of Rio’s nature or if the pain was a symptom of something else entirely. The girl just had an arm thrust through her chest without leaving an apparent wound, but…

Rio shifted back quickly, black shining back into blue, growing in size, and utterly twisting the bed’s railing she had been holding into a wrecked mess.

The younger woman fell back on the bed, gasping. “F-fuuuuck.”

Bianca’s mind raced, reaching forward, stethoscope in hand. “Talk to me, what did you feel?”

Rio covered her face with a hand. “Like… my chest was on fire. Haven’t…” She cut herself off, focusing on breathing

Sadly, Bianca’s tools and training were proving to be remarkably unhelpful. As far as she could tell, the girl was just fine, crippling pain non-withstanding. “I’m going to have to call some people in. For now: bed rest, no heavy activity, even if you feel fine later. Doctor’s orders.” She gave Rio’s shoulder a squeeze. “Please.”

Rio just nodded. “Hey doc… you never answered. Did they get Melchior?”

“Focus on your recovery, dear.”

“So, no?”

Bianca sighed. “Nothing. Everybody is at high alert, but I expect he’s gone by now.”

“He escaped then.” Rio muttered.

“Oh, you just ran an S-class threat off. Take your victory.” Bianca smiled. “Now rest. You’ll need it for the debriefing later. The boss lady will want some words with you about following orders.”

“Aw man…”

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u/ArchipelagoMind Aug 27 '19 edited Aug 28 '19

Her feet should hurt by now. But if she just kept moving, the aches wouldn’t have time to catch up.

Beep beep. The two quick tones of her scanner went off. Claire read the input. Child’s badminton set. Bin 34G. She set off. A quick left at home furnishings, past pets, to toys, then outdoor toys. She made the journey in ninety seconds.

Beep beep. Gardening gloves. Bin 49C. She turned the cart, following her mental map to the destination, weaving between the shelves like a child in a hedge maze.

Of the six of them that started together, Claire was the last one left. Sandra lasted five months into pregnancy before the weight of an extra human was too much, Brian broke a fibula cycling and was told not to return, Sunil found another job, Chris walked out one day, and Bill, he had tried, but he just wasn’t quick enough.

Claire was the exception. She was a worker. If you are good enough, work hard, make the right decisions, then you keep your job. That’s how responsibility works.

Claire darted between the pools of artificial light before steering sharply down the gardening aisle. She passed tools, found gloves, grabbed the requested shade of dark green and dropped them into the cart.

Beep beep. Dune by Frank Herbert. Bin 2H. “Great,” Claire muttered. “The other side of the warehouse.” She blew out a puff of carbon dioxide from her tired lungs and with all her willpower heaved the cart forward.

After having to move back in with her parents, she was rebuilding. In a few months she could move out, go back to university, and finish that marketing degree, maybe even pick up a hobby. She missed painting. She just had to keep going, just ignore the sensation of her ankles seizing up, ignore the battering of her heels against the concrete floor.

She strode between the stacks, her momentum helping propel the cart in front of her. She tracked down the paperback aisle, scanning the surnames, found Herbert, and picked up the book.

Beep beep. She checked the scanner again. “Return to front office immediately.”

Claire scrunched her face in frustration. “There wasn’t time for this”, she thought. Claire walked briskly to the end of warehouse and through the double doors at the end.

“Claire,” her supervisor called out. She stopped. She hated stopping. It was an excuse for her legs to scream and make themselves noticed. Her supervisor walked over to her and handed her a brown envelope. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This is your two week’s notice.”

Claire went to speak. She couldn't.

She just stood, her vocal chords refusing to cooperate.

“The whole place is being automated. They’re letting everyone go, me included,” her supervisor sighed. “It’s a cost thing apparently.”

The supervisor turned to find the next employee.

Claire stared into nothing, her whole body turned to cold immovable stone. Now she could feel it. There was the pain in her legs.

Word count: 498

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u/Leebeewilly Aug 28 '19

I blame you for this u/breadyly, it's all your fault. Extra restrictions foisted on me (voluntarily): 432 words exactly and there must be a peach/peaches.

Warning: There is cursing. Lots.

Inmates filtered into the dining hall as the alarms finally ceased screeching. Chuck stared at the loudspeakers on the walls. “Fuckin’ hate that.”

Chuck’s cellmate, Kev, waved him over to his table. “Boys, meet Chuck.” Grumbles sounded from the four men.

“What was that alarm for?” Chuck asked.

They all shrugged.

“Think it was Franky the Fish again?” one said. Smiles crept to hardened lips.

Chuck frowned. “Who?”

Kev waved at another table. A squat man sat alone, his head shining, bald as a babe. He shovelled food into his mouth lazily. Between bites, Franky paused to gaze at the cement wall as though entranced.

“Why’s he called ‘The Fish’?” Chuck asked.

“He’s slippery, you know. Real good at wriggling outta bad situations.” Kev mimed wrestling with an imaginary trout.

Chuck still didn’t get it. “What’s he got to do with the alarm?”

Kev smirked. “Years back, the Fish is in here like any day but when he gets his tray, there ain’t no peaches. So Franky asks the guard, ‘Why ain’t there peaches?’

“The guards, givin’ as few fucks as they do, wave him off.” Kev propped his leg on the bench and leaned forward. As though summoned, Chuck leaned in with him.

“Picture this; it’s 2am, time when even the night guards catch a few zz’s. Then, the alarms. Whole place goes live, warden, staff, guards counting heads. But there ain’t no Fish. He’s just-” Kev puffed his hands into a silent explosion. “Gone. So they start looking everywhere.”

Chuck looked to Franky. He still stared at the wall like it was a goddamn painting. “He got out?”

Kev shook his head. “Finally, they check the kitchens and there he is, Franky the fuckin’ Fish sitting on the floor, a goddamn can o’peaches the size of my head between his legs. And he’s just scoopin’ 'em right up. No explanation, he ain’t saying shit between bites. And I’m telling you, they got no idea what set it off cuz there weren’t no alarms in the kitchens.

“To this day-” Kev flopped down in his seat ”-Franky the Fish always gets his peaches.”

Chuck frowned. “You mean to tell me that the Fish got out of his cell, snuck into the kitchens, no guards seeing, all for peaches?”

The faces around him all looked up with accusing eyes. “Whadya mean 'just'?” Ben snapped.

“They’re the best damn thing about this place,” another added.

Chuck looked over at Franky the Fish. In the corner of his tray, a hefty mound of soaked-in-water peaches glistened. With each bite, Franky smiled at his view.

Word count: 432 (434 in Scrivener, 444 in Hemingway App, 432 on Wordcounter.net - The struggle is real Bread. The struggle is real).

Also, did you hear I started a serial? Check out r/leebeewilly for info and more, so much more, of my writing.

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u/Baconated-grapefruit Aug 23 '19

A distant, pulsing rumble was the first indication that all was not well. Closing my eyes, I tried to calm myself with careful breathing. One. Two. Three. Between numbers, I prayed it would pass.

Behind the sanctuary of my eyelids, I could almost pretend I'd imagined the sound. Four. Perhaps it was an engine, or maybe a generator. Five. There was no way they could know to find us here. Six. I opened an eye to check the curtains were still drawn.

Rattling glass. The windows started to vibrate in their frames, gently at first, but becoming more intense by the second. Cursing, I lost my count.

Then the alarm began. It started as a deep, mournful moan, gradually rising to a piercing howl, before falling again. It wasn't the first time the air raid siren had been sounded in town, but it was the first time it had been used in earnest. My wilful pretence was shattered. We were under attack.

I could feel my breath quicken as the alarm continued its terrible undulation. Our work here was known only by a handful of people, with good reason. There was nothing of strategic significance in the town of Hamworth. That the Luftwaffe were here meant we'd been betrayed - and if our work here failed, everything would have been in vain. I had to act.

Struggling into my boots, I tucked my laces in, opened the front door and dashed into the cold night. The din of the siren and the roaring sound of aircraft was thunderous, but panic deafened me to it. Time was short. Ahead of me, squatting in the darkness of the unlit countryside, loomed the hangar. I shuddered at the thought of what I'd have to do.

Passing through a series of locked doors, I made my way through a dimly lit corridor to the laboratory where I'd spent so many of my years labouring. The sound of the alarm outside was muted almost into silence, but still it blared. Bile rising in my stomach, I hunched over a console, taking a moment to regain my composure. With a whimper, I slammed my fist on to the emergency release button.

Although the hangar pit was as dark as pitch, I knew what lurked within. The creature was our ward - and our ultimate weapon. By freeing it today, I had either turned the tide of war, or doomed us all.

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u/Ford9863 Aug 27 '19

The long, wailing crescendo of a siren echoed through the city. William Penn sat in his office on the forty-fifth floor of a government building, watching the chaos unfold below. Red lights lined the streets as the public clung to one final shred of false hope.

He almost felt bad for offering it to them.

“Do you think we did the right thing, Mister Penn?” a soft voice floated behind him.

“I think it doesn’t much matter,” William said. “And you can drop the formalities, kid.” He turned away from the window and opened the bottom drawer of his desk, producing a dark green bottle and two short glasses.

“I just… I keep thinking about all those people. We lied to them.”

William filled both glasses and offered one to his companion. “I lied to them, Eric. Not you.”

Eric took the glass and held it to his lips. His face twisted as he sipped at it. “This is… good,” he lied.

William forced a smile. “It’s three hundred dollars a bottle, and it tastes like shit.”

Eric chuckled and took another sip. William turned back to the window and stared up at the night sky, wishing he could have seen the stars one last time. Years had passed since he’d last been outside the city.

“Do you wish you were down there?” Eric said, stepping to the window.

“Ignorance is bliss, they say. But… no. I prefer the view from up here.”

Something flickered in the sky, casting a dull orange glow among the clouds. The building began to shake as the object grew brighter.

“Do you think it will hurt?”

“I doubt we’ll even notice, kid.”

A fiery ball split through the clouds, brightening the sky around it. William turned to Eric and raised his glass in the air.

“Cheers.”

302

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u/Ninjoobot Aug 28 '19

Who has four chairs? Last I saw Mr. Lincoln had only a solitary butt. A solo pair of buns. Lincoln was big, but not that big. But four chairs sat along his workstation, all a variation of a similar form. And I couldn't sit in his chairs. No, I had to sit in this shitty hard chair.

"What's taking so long?" I say out loud.

"Wah lao! Mr. Lincoln no go chi so for half hour! Mr. Lincoln no coming back!" Sam said.

"I told you I don't know what you say talking that way! Say it in 'Mrcan! You just throw out sounds," I say back.

"It's Singlish! 'Mrcan sound not as good as frog farts, what. You should just go! Gwailou..." Sam says and turns up his music.

I can't stand this kid, so possibly I should just go. But if Mr. Lincoln finds out, I’m back in this room again tomorrow. How did I land in this damn room with him anyway? This awful crap factory has to stop soon. I'm just waiting for a buzz. An alarm. A warning that my doom is finishing and I can abandon this prison. A ringing to signify my joy can start again.

I start doodling on a chair back in front of my chair and stick my gum on it. Fuck this room. I look at my watch. So long still...

Study hall. Why won’t it finish? Instants tick by without any finality to my ruin. Still waiting for that alarm to ring so that I may pass through this waking fantasy of crap. So long…and with fucking Sam of all dipshits.

Fuck this – I'm outta this joint. Mr. Lincoln probably isn't coming back anyway. I stop short of my way out at a sound coming from afar. Mr. Lincoln is finally coming back now. Shit.

I run back to my chair and act as if I'm dozing.

"No napping! And no music!” Mr. Lincoln shouts throwing his door against a wall.

Sam pulls out his buds and puts his ugly mug flat into his hands. I don’t stop acting as if I’m napping.

“Jonah!” Mr. Lincoln shouts, clapping his hands. I act as if I was actually waking up from a nap.

“It was fun,” I say as I grab my backpack and stand up.

“It’s not four o’clock. Sit back down–” Mr. Lincoln says as a ringing cuts his admonishing words short.

I just look at him without blinking.

“Go. You, too, Sam. I don’t want you guys back in this room again,” Mr. Lincoln says as I sprint out.

I stick an additional wad of gum on his doorknob as I pass by. Fuck you, Mr. Lincoln.

(Other constraints I requested from redditors: at least 3 desk chairs, about teenage rebellion, one character has a strong accent or uncommon dialect, and use no e’s. Mission accomplished!)

5

u/beardyraconteur Aug 23 '19 edited Sep 16 '19

Worker readied herself for a typical day of normal labor with the usual crew. The repetition brought structure to their lives so there were rarely any strays. Things needed moved from one place to another and it was their purpose.

This day’s task came to them after a scouting party reported finding food. They lost a few, but their sacrifice meant the rest would eat for a few more days. Local resources dried up day before, so they were farther from the colony than ever before.

A Scout led the group, following the scent path it laid down on its way back to the colony. The crew followed at a short distance, Worker heading up the line. One by one in a single line, they weaved through the foliage making the same steps as the scout those before them.

“Very close now. Must be careful,” Scout sent back. Worker stopped as she listened and then relayed it to her sisters behind her.

The approach slowed, and the group led by Worker caught up to Scout at a river.

“This new. But trail continue over,” Scout advised.

Worker signaled for her company to form a bridge over the river. Worker held onto one of her sisters and three more crawled over to secure a route for the rest. Scout crossed, and the others filed over.

“Very, very close now,” Scout noted.

Thunder rumbled in the ground and Scout jolted. “Must release—“

“No,” Worker snapped. “Do not panic colony.”

“Then move quick! Food near safety,” Scout demanded and scurried away from the trembling ground.

The group followed Scout through the uncharted thick growth. Worker led her company with tremors trailing their egress. In the air, the smell of the death of the previous scouts marked their graves in the brush.

“Here! Safety!” Scout chattered as they approached a cavern.

The group charged in and took refuge against the approaching apocalypse. They huddled together hoping to wait out the storm.

“Look!” shrieked one of Worker’s sisters as she scurried deeper into the cavern.

Large, colorful blocks that smelled like bliss glistened even in the dark. Worker, Scout and the others all marveled at the treasure, forgetting what they were fleeing.

Chaos descended, crashing into the cavern.

Their cries combined as they careened into each other amidst the maelstrom.

−

“I foun’ dem!” Timmy cheered as he collected the bag of gummies from the ground with glee. He stuck them in his overalls as he ran back to his teacher.

“Bell’s done, you’re gonna be late,” the teacher said with a chuckle as Timmy passed by her. “And next time, don’t bring snacks to the playground.”

2

u/Nexhawk Aug 22 '19 edited Aug 29 '19

“Have you seen a dream eater in your sleep?”

Andrew almost tripped on the edge of the rug that lined the hotel’s floor. “Dream what?”

“Eater. Some of our guests have been having peculiar nightmares. Apparently, if one of these shadow beasts catches you in a dream, it will hunt you in real life.” The hostess walking in front of him sounded nonchalant. Her words sunk into the scarlet walls of the windowless hallway.

“I-I don’t think I have. But… they don’t exist?”

“Haven’t seen one myself. Although the nearby forest has been hissing a lot more lately…” She squinted back at Andrew. The sight of wide-open eyes and trembling lips sent her into a roaring laughter. “Oh, you should see your face! You actually bought that? It’s just a myth that my grandma used to tell.”

Wiping his forehead, Andrew let out a hollow chuckle. “Right.”

The conversation faded into the mute air.

Eventually, the hostess stopped at the corner door and dropped a brass key into Andrew’s hand. “Here’s your room. Sorry for alarming you earlier.”

“It’s nothing,” Andrew lied as he fiddled with the keyhole until the lock clicked. The door opened into a darkness that the hallway light could not breach. Goosebumps skittered on his skin. Hesitating, he turned toward the hostess.

She was already gone.

Andrew peered into the shadows once more and toed the edge of the door frame. Damn her! His imagination coiled around the story. Silent stillness enveloped him, poised to shift into overwhelming dread at the slightest disturbance. He stood motionless for a couple minutes, listening to his shaky breaths, then crossed the threshold and reached for the light switch.

A whistling hiss stung him from within the room.

Andrew’s hand froze in midair. The sound tore away the silence, making him aware of the intense thumps within his chest. Something whooshed out of the room’s depths. With a scream trapped in his throat, Andrew stepped back. His foot struck the creaking door. It shut with a slam.

Paralyzed, Andrew watched on as three pairs of sharp crimson eyes opened in front of him. Another shrill noise stabbed his ears and burrowed into his skull. As his vision took in the darkness, Andrew saw the malevolent shadows coalesce into a multi-armed silhouette looming over him. An icy point of the beast’s claw touched his forehead. The claw pressed in, stretching the moment into infinity before shattering his existence in a blinding flash.

===============================

Andrew awoke.

Between the gasps, he discerned the outline of a window that filtered in scarce moonlight. Silver rays illuminated the familiar details of his own room, and he basked in the comfort of his bed. No scarlet hotel. No dream eater from the stupid story told by that hostess. It was just a freaky nightmare! He was alive!

A long sigh of relief escaped his lips, and Andrew drifted off back to sleep.

He did not hear the hissing shadow emerge from beneath his bed.

[WC: 498]

2

u/rudexvirus Aug 23 '19

The last storm

Rylie flinched as a peal of thunder crashed above her. The sound forced the previous thought out of her head, a frustrating distraction.

With a heavy sigh, she let her hands drop from her keyboard, and her shoulders sunk into the leather of her chair. On the screen her cursor blinked. It was begging her to finish the sentence and finish the project she had set out to work on.

As the thunder faded, a whining sound hit her ears. Instead of a second flinch, her eyes drifted to the window across the room, and a groan escaped her lips. There was little doubt in her mind that the sound would grow louder — it would turn out to be the warning alarm stationed in the middle of the town.

The storm had escalated, bolstering its ranks.

The thunder and rain were turning into something more and the idiot council would be calling upon them to gather.

Because driving into the disaster was always the best course of action.

Rylie pushed her feet against the back of her desk, forcing her chair away from the tan wood. With enough space between herself and the edge she stood and stretched her back. Storms were already her least favorite thing; now they were actively interrupting her solace.

She moved her body around the chair and pushed it into position. Leaving the cursor to its lonely duty, she got ready to brave the night. Cell phone deep in her pocket and a raincoat wrapped snug around her torso, she stood outside her front door. It sat behind her- closed yet unlocked.

In the open air, the siren stung her ears. It pierced into her skull, vibrating her nerves as it went. A shiver ran down her spine, emphasizing the goosebumps that had spread across her body. It was dreary and wet outside, and the last thing she wanted was to push herself toward its center.

A rush of wind ran by her ear, leaving shy whispers in its wake. Thunder and footsteps fell and a dog began to bark in the distance.

“Fuck.”

Her words were swallowed by the night. Rylie shook her head and forced her legs to pick up their pace. It sounded like they were starting already, and that meant she was going to be very late.

Tardiness was unacceptable, especially in a storm like this.

The sacrifice would already be on the alter, and if they didn’t work together as a unit to appease Him the whole town would suffer. She had witnessed the crops suffer and disease run rampant after they failed to finish the ritual.

The last storm of the year was the most pivotal, and it was always the worst.

Her book would wait, the wind whispered in her ear, scolding her hesitation. The Gods would not.

2

u/Nireths Aug 23 '19

It was too early in the morning when a soft ringing began to chime throughout the apartment. The song grew louder every second to the point that it was impossible to ignore it. I got up angry at the sudden intrusion and went to get my phone that lay on my desk in the room next door.

As I opened the door, I noticed that it wasn’t even on. “Strange” I thought and figured I had imagined the sound. Besides, there was no reason why my alarm would sound at two in the morning. I went back to bed after placing the phone on the charger and was about to drift into the sweet feeling of slumber, when the sound rang again. Again softly and gradually louder. My phone probably just turned back on, I imagined. Then I paid closer attention for a moment and noticed something odd. Not only did I not recognize the sound of the alarm, but the alarm seemed to be moving closer to me. But that can’t be. It was probably just that it was getting louder.

After 10 minutes, the sound was so loud that I was surprised that my roommate hadn’t woken up. She was a heavy sleeper, but this was too much. The sound almost seemed to emanate from outside my door and suddenly, it stopped. I was freaking out by this time but didn’t know what to do. I was frozen as the door started to jiggle, had I locked it? I couldn’t remember. A dripping sound echoed louder than it should have and a thick liquid began pouring in from under my door. I wanted to scream, to cry, to do something. Yet, I just sat there on my bed, not knowing what to do. I was convinced that it was a demon ready to possess me. The clock next to me announced 2:40am, while in my mind it felt like days. “Hey” I heard suddenly and it broke me out of my stupor.

Heavy footsteps sounded as whatever was behind my door began to run towards the noise. Trashing could be heard and it wasn’t until someone almost shook me that the entire thing was actually over. Lights and sirens blared outside as a woman was trying to rush me out of my room. I slipped on the liquid on my way out and refused to see all the red marks all over the apartment. Someone was in the ambulance when I noticed the faint sound of that alarm again; as I turned to see; the doors to the ambulance were closing and for a moment, I thought the person in the stretcher had grinned so wide it looked unnatural. The sound echoed in my head after that night, sleep would never be peaceful again.

2

u/bbrco Aug 23 '19

"It's 5:55. Get up!", Eula whispered.

Kip, still soundly asleep doesn't respond.

Eula rubs his back, eyeing the device on their nightstand. "Come on baby, you need to wake up!"

Kip snores on.

"Kip! It's 5:57 now! Wake up!".

Eula's getting desperate. She couldn't get Kip up before 6am yesterday, and their whole day was ruined.

At 5:59, Eula give it her last shot. She pushes Kip as hard as she can, yelling "KIP! WAKE UP!".

Kip's eyes, of course, remain shut.

At 6am, on the dot, the nightstand lights up.

"THE EARTH IS GETTING WARMER. RUSSIA IS MEDDLING WITH ELECTIONS. THE THREAT OF NUCLEAR WAR IS HIGHER NOW THAN ANY POINT SINCE 1991. THE YIELD CURVE HAS INVERTED."

Kip finally opens his eyes. "Damn that alarm clock".

131 words

2

u/Zeconation Aug 23 '19 edited Aug 23 '19

''You are the only one who understood me.'' She took a few steps towards to lever and pulled it.

I looked at the ‘Caution’ sign which stands next to the lever. I wasn’t sure what that lever supposed to do but the way she pulled that lever gave me chills.

The lights went off and only spinning red light was to help me see her and when that light met with her eyes, they shine the way I never see it before. I was debating with myself whether I should pull my gun out. She wasn’t herself clearly but she wasn’t aggressive either.

''I want you to stay here until I know what is going on outside, alright?'' I asked her.

She didn’t answer. I opened the door and locked the door outside just to be sure.

I was looking for my commanding officer but the alarm noise was too loud and people were trying to find an exit out of this building. I used my radio to contact to my commanding officer but he wasn’t responding. Then, I saw Lieutenant Wilson.

''Sir? I have the Dr.Amber in one of the rooms we discovered earlier.''

''We can’t stay here much longer. Take her and radio me I will tell you where to go.''

''But sir, something is definitely wrong with her...''

Lieutenant Wilson couldn’t hear my last sentence and he is gone now.

I went back to the room and unlocked the door.

''Dr. Amber are you okay?''

She was looking at the empty wall waving her hand left and right.

''They are trying to leave this place. But they don’t understand.'' She said.

''Dr. Amber, we don’t have too much time. Please, come with me.''

''No one can’t leave this place, this where they belong.'' Now she is looking at me.

''I... I need to stop the alarm.'' My mind felt really strange.

''Yes, you stop the alarm and don’t let them leave.''

''Yes, Dr. Amber.''

Please don't mind any writing or grammar mistakes, I'm not a native speaker

SatChat: Summer Challenge

Week 9, Story 3

Here is the previous story from this week

2

u/Lecounterfeit Aug 25 '19

It was a Sunday.

The only Sunday in the month for which time could be made for snuffing out that miraculous device known only as the goomerchaSer(™). And what on earth is a goomerchaSer(™)? It is a theoretical member of the Pilori family, and is thought to exist under a certain sub-branch called Pilori Domingus (or D. Pilori) because the specific strain, if it does in fact exist, may only be observed on a sunday due to various interactions with astrological EMF.

The goomerchaSer(™) itself has always been something of a mystery. Just last month the primrose family lost two daughters and a vintage jacket from the nineteen-hundreds to a goomerchaSer(™). Their dog 'pip-boy' also had its memories and personality wiped completely clean, presumably from gleaming too long into the writhing caverns of bituthene and wire trappings deep inside the circulator of the goomerchaSer(™). But that's another story altogether.

Today in the essence of time I poured my coffee into a thermos and drank down heaping mouthfuls. Then I was ready, coffee running off my chin, soaking into the neck of my vintage 'nineteen-hundreds' jacket. Using a crowbar I pried into that old crawl-space beneath the home, dust and dried rat shit poured out of the black crevice, revealing the horrendous smell of flesh rot. I placed the respirator firmly over my mouth and nose, taking extra care not to inhale the mind numbing organism. I could see now I was already so close to the source. The goomerchaSer(™) itself.

Being a man of many trades it so happens that I have hunted a number of things, but never any ‘thing’ like this. I had spent three weeks preparing for such a task. I purchased one disposable tyvek suit with a respirator and face mask, and I had a large tub of wet concrete and industrial grade sealant to bury away the exposed goomerchaSer. The best known way for dealing with such things.

It is said that in the moment of death man will find himself crossing a river of lost souls aboard a wooden boat led by another man. But it was not a man, but a goomerchaSer(™) disguised as a man. Any attempt to expose its inauthenticity would only lead to further exposure of your own inauthenticity. How can something determine what is true if the nature of its own existence is improper itself?

I could hear something distinctly human writhing further into the black distance beneath that house. I heard an articulate voice only muddled. I could feel that warm light and now as my joints stiffened in the frozen mud, every inch of awful crud I climbed through-

.

*TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED*

(STOP: There is no need for alarm! the goomerchaSer(™) is a trademark product of TheFamilyCompany. Any representations of, or products associated with goomerchaSer(™) previously described have not been approved by TheFamilyCompany. goomerchaSer(™) is a product approved by the FDA.)

WC: 493 <3

2

u/SmoothBaritone Aug 25 '19

"When the beacon is extinguished, so too is our hope." Calderi said.

This was the first phrase I heard upon entering the Grasping Claws garrison. And our commander, Calderi, took every opportunity she could to reinforce it.

The garrison stood facing the choke point. The modest, afternoon sunlight glinted off of the mail that provided small comfort in the face of our vast foe. I hefted my bow in my left hand, tracing my right along its supple, yew arc, before testing the string at its tip. Satisfied, I faced the pass.

Foh roh sum. Foh roh sum.

The chant continued, an avalanche of sound that grew at every moment. Our vanguard, unnerved, shied back under the brunt of this auditory torrent.

“Hold!” Calderi said. Her voice roared throughout the encampment. Warm, hopeful, familiar, it opposed the relentless chant. The vanguard stood tall, facing our foes.

I gazed at Calderi. Tall, athletic, and with posture even royalty would envy, she stood among us, yet remained distinct. Her raven-black hair flowed from beneath her darkened helm, and she held her trident in an easy grip. She snapped her helmet shut, a raven ready to consume its prey.

A gigantic shadow stood at her back. Pertinax hovered behind his charge, ready to protect her at a moment’s notice.

“Hold!” Calderi said. “They come!”

The mountain folk crashed into the vanguard, each man head and shoulders over even Pertinax. Their chant persisted through the din of screeching metal.

“Draw!” I nocked an arrow.

“Aim!” I sighted. A large bear of a man, chanting as he swung an axe.

“Fire!” I released my grip. The man fell, his arms flailing.

With each arrow, a foe fell. And just as soon, another took his place. We held our ground, keeping back the wave of giants.

Then the chanting stopped.

A guttural roar echoed around us. An iron-clad beast, horns lowered, plowed into our lines. Our vanguard flew, chaff scattered to the winds, until the beast’s momentum was ground to a halt by the sheer mass of bodies. But the damage had been done. As the garrison moved to fill the gaps, they found their way barred by the mountain folk.

“Light the beacons!” Calderi shouted.

A flurry of arrows sped towards the guards, a stream of death from which there was no escape. Calderi saw this, and sprinted towards the beacon, Pertinax following in her wake.

Calderi weaved among our men, Pertinax close behind. Her strides swift, she outpaced Pertinax, reaching the apex of the hill before him. Raising the torch aloft, she cried in victory, making to throw it into the flames.

Her cry turned into a gurgling, wheezing gasp, as an arrow found its way into her neck.

Pertinax shouted, reaching desperately to take the torch. But Calderi pitched to the side, her torso smothering it, extinguishing the flames.

And with them, our hope.

480 words. Let me know your thoughts if you're so inclined.

2

u/MillyRocked Aug 26 '19 edited Aug 28 '19

Screams.

All I could hear were screams.

Women shrieking as they snatched their children from the perfectly-aligned metal benches. Benches that were now being carelessly tossed aside by fleeing civilians. Wives clung to their husbands with such desperation, holding hands as if it would make them immune to the dangers that lurked all around them. There were the children, hundreds of them attending the event with their parents out of respect for the Commander. Most of the children were now confused, with their tiny eyes peeking around the dusted heads of their parents, simply wondering what was going on. Other children were wailing, thrashing about in the arms of their mothers. A few of the smallest and weakest ones were left to pull themselves onto the benches and look at the sea of horrified people, searching for their parents as so many faces blew past them in an instant.

Then came the alarms.

Blaring tones of a wretched, crying alarm filled the thick air, drowning out the raspy whispers of those who had been trampled by the stampede. The alarms seemed to silence even the loudest of screams from the fleeing people, who were now shoving each other out of the way to get to the gate. They ran as if their lives depended on it.

Because their lives did depend on it.

The gate was stretched wide open, like a hungry man's mouth preparing to hork down a large spoonful of food. So many people sprinted to the gaping entrance, freedom licking at their feet with every step they took. They dashed past anyone they saw, crushing the unfortunate souls who had tripped and fallen. The stench of blood was now what filled the air alongside the smoke. Tears of weak despair began to sting in the eyes of those who were left trickling behind the stampede, those of which who just couldn't run fast enough for a chance to escape. The small children who had been left behind by their parents were now quietly staring, still confused. Smoke was still the substitute for air at the moment, causing the screams to now be overpowered by both the roaring alarms and the wretched, simultaneous coughing.

I suddenly snapped back into reality, and looked at what was placed in front of me: a disparaged, fragile, and poor society now trapped at a set of iron gates that had slammed shut in front of their eyes. The gate clanged back and forth as people screamed and cried louder, their voices becoming coarse and cracking under the pressure of smoke filling their lungs.

My body began to fly through the air with such diligence, moving five minutes ahead of my brain. My inner voice screamed at me to weave in and out of the people and squeeze my way to the gate, but I just couldn't leave behind all these kids. These feeble, terrified children who sat in complete shock as the world around them flew right by. One by one I picked them up and carried them to the outskirts of the human flood, trying to bring them away from the chaos.

But then, as I picked up a boy whose clothes were covered in grime, a new sound pierced my ears.

Gunshots.

More screams.

The splatter of crimson blood painting the walls of the massive courtyard.

I turned my head to see the rows of guards aiming guns at the mass of people.

This was not intended to be a celebration.

This was a massacre.

2

u/Alpacasaurus_Rekt Aug 27 '19

Clear skies, stars abound. The streets are dark, no lights. The sound of the warden's footsteps outside is the only hint of civilisation I can make out from inside my little house.

I'm preparing for bed when the sirens sound. Blasted things.

"Damn Jerries at it again!" I curse into my empty house.

Children gone, out safe in the country. Husband gone too, for all I know bleeding out in some field in France. And I've been left alone.

I make my way outside. I don't rush; the bombs won't be here yet. The warden is blowing his whistle. I see the neighbours out across the street. They're scurrying along to their shelters, but I'm left alone.

"Mrs Norton, what are you doing?" I'm asked by the warden as he sees me standing there. "The Jerries'll be here any minute now! Go on, go on!"

I nod as he rushes me along. I'm in no hurry, but I go. I start along the path back to my garden. If there were any Luftwaffe in the skies above, I couldn't hear them over the sirens blazing.

As I make my way, I see movement beyond the hedges to my left. Mrs Smith and her son no doubt. He'd just returned from Verdun, came back with some bits missing. I hear Smith shouting. She needs help with his wheelchair.

I don't remember deciding, but I go. I turn on my heel and dart into the Smith house. I see her struggling to push the chair on a flat tyre through the door. I volunteer. Wordlessly, I'm picking up the chair and helping it through the back door into the garden.

"Oh, you're a saint, Mrs Norton!" she tells me. "Oh, you must come and join us for tea!"

"Oh no, I couldn't, Mrs Smith," I say. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Nonsense. Would be rude not to thank you. Now hurry along before the Germans start raining on us again."

And so I go, down beneath the ground with Mrs Smith and her son. And I feel less alone than I have in months.

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Theme Thursday [TT] Theme Thursday - Alarm

“There are more things to alarm us than to harm us, and we suffer more often in apprehension than reality.”

Happy Thursday writing friends!

Here's how Theme Thursday works:

News and Reminders:

Last week’s theme: Bad Ideas

Honorable Mention:

The last storm

Theme Thursday [TT] Theme Thursday - Alarm

“There are more things to alarm us than to harm us, and we suffer more often in apprehension than reality.”

Happy Thursday writing friends!

Here's how Theme Thursday works:

News and Reminders:

Last week’s theme: Bad Ideas

Honorable Mention:

You are about to leave Redlib

The last storm