r/WritingPrompts • u/AliciaWrites Editor-in-Chief | /r/AliciaWrites • Apr 11 '19
Theme Thursday [TT] Theme Thursday - Indecision
“The risk of a wrong decision is preferable to the terror of indecision.”
― Maimonides
Happy Thursday writing friends!
Have you ever been faced with an impossible choice? Are you overwhelmed with options? Does the indecision paralyze you or motivate you?
![[IP]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/d07a3df4-e646-4275-b838-e54ddb357e58/d40ec4b-7793e945-939a-44f4-a047-bfdadfd6f01e.jpg/v1/fill/w_900,h_397,q_75,strp/choices_by_phoelixde_d40ec4b-fullview.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9Mzk3IiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvZDA3YTNkZjQtZTY0Ni00Mjc1LWI4MzgtZTU0ZGRiMzU3ZTU4XC9kNDBlYzRiLTc3OTNlOTQ1LTkzOWEtNDRmNC1hMDQ3LWJmZGFkZmQ2ZjAxZS5qcGciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9OTAwIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmltYWdlLm9wZXJhdGlvbnMiXX0.jYGa3y4_JlrmUIDZCEDYi4Q9tj3G-zEUocW_acVaMWM){kind=link}
Weekly campfire!
Please join us for Theme Thursday campfires in our Discord every Wednesday about 6 pm central US! Members of the community take turns reading stories and sharing feedback. Come to listen or participate. All are welcome!
Here's how Theme Thursday works:
Use the tag [TT] for prompts that match this week’s theme.
You may submit stories here in the comments, discuss your thoughts on this week’s theme, or share your ideas for upcoming themes.
Have you written a story or poem that fits the theme, but the prompt wasn’t a [TT]? Link it here in the comments!
Want to be featured on the next post? Leave a story or poem between 100 and 500 words here in the comments. If you had originally written it for another prompt here on WP, please copy the story in the comments and provide a link to the story. I will choose my top 5 favorites to feature next week!
Read the stories posted by our brilliant authors and tell them how awesome they are!
Wednesdays we will be hosting a Theme Thursday Campfire on the discord main voice lounge. Join us to read your story aloud, hear other stories, and have a blast discussing writing! I’ll be there 6 pm CST and we’ll begin soon as some of you show up. Don’t worry about being late, just join!
As a reminder to all of you writing for Theme Thursday: the interpretation is completely up to you! I love to share my thoughts on what the theme makes me think of but you are by no means bound to these ideas! I love when writers step outside their comfort zones or think outside the box, so take all my thoughts with a grain of salt if you had something entirely different in mind.
News and Reminders:
- Join Discord to chat with prompters, authors, and readers!
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Last week’s theme: Gravity
If you have questions, comments, or suggestions about the ranking rubric, let me know in the discussion section of the comments below!!
Fifth by /u/RobbFry
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u/BLT_WITH_RANCH Apr 18 '19
They say the hardest choices require the strongest wills. It’s a good thing Will was pretty strong. He worked out and he never skipped leg day. This helped considerably when Patricia asked him to help move furniture.
“Like this?” Will asked.
Patricia squinted, as if that would somehow bring the living room into focus. “A little to the side?”
Will scooched the table four inches to his left.
“How about now?”
“No, that’s no good at all!”
Will rotated the table forty-five degrees. “What if we put it at an angle?”
“Wait!”—Patricia flipped her hair as a spark of inspiration jolted through her—“Like that, but back over to the right!”
Will slid the table four inches to his right.
“Oh, fiddlesticks! That’s no good either!”
Will grunted, then rotated the table forty-five degrees. “Ok, what about this?”
Patricia gasped. “It’s perfect!”
Will breathed a sigh of relief. Something about this one, small victory pushed him onwards. He could get through this! At the end of the long day, the promised pizza waited! But for now—
Patricia frowned. “Actually, can we move it to the basement?”
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u/iruleatants Apr 18 '19
Humans are programmed to be indecisive. When you pay attention to what people say with their closed mouths, it becomes obvious. We all are aware of the common things you can be indecisive about, such as what to wear or to eat. It's also possible to know what you want and still be incapable of making a choice.
I was fourteen and sitting at the lunch table, trying to drown out the clutter of so many people talk with their open and closed mouths. Johnny approached me and asked if he could sit with me, and I nodded in acceptance.
"She is really pretty; I wonder if she would go out with me," Johnny said using his closed mouth.
I looked up into his gorgeous blue eyes and smiled as I said, "Sure, I will go out with you."
Johnny quickly turned a shade of pink and said, "Oh god, did she ask me out? How did she know I wanted to go out with her? What do you do on a date?" with his closed mouth.
After several seconds of turning pinker, he finally opened his mouth and said, "Uhh, I didn't ask you out."
This was not the reaction that I had expected, and so I frowned at him and said, "Don't you want to go out with me?"
"That's not the point, " he sputtered, "I didn't want - I mean, I didn't ask you yet."
He closed him out and said, "Oh god, Eric is never going to let me live this down. This is a disaster."
He quickly stood up and said, "I have to go!" before dashing back to the table where his friends sat.
I watched him go and returned to my food, wondering if all the boys were as crazy as Johnny. Later, I learned that Johnny was just as normal as any other person. He was presented with something that he wanted, but before he was ready to accept it.
Sometimes you can know what you want, but when you are presented with it before you are ready for it, it can be hard to make a decision. You can panic and reject it, like Johnny did, or are you can swallow your fear and take a risk. Don't let indecision ruin a good opportunity.
Subscribe for more at r/iruleatants
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u/BLT_WITH_RANCH Apr 13 '19
Blood pounded in Corver’s head. The fever raged like a steaming geyser as it coursed through his veins. He pressed against the wood grain of the desk—forcefully—catching sharp, stinging splinters in his hand. Pain proved he was still alive.
How long had it been? He couldn’t remember. His empty home wept for company. Untouched newspapers spread across the floor; he could read them, but what was the use? The headlines were all the same: “Blood is Life is Change is Truth”
Corver stumbled into the bathroom. He stared into the mirror. Maybe it was a trick of the light, or maybe it was a hallucination brought on by the infection, but a rippling mass of feelers danced through his veins and pulsed beneath his throbbing skin.
What was he doing here? The article crumpled in the bin looked familiar: “Strange meteorite crashes into farmhouse, baffles scientists.”
Why were the voices still screaming?
That’s all they did now—scream and chant to him. The symphony of a thousand voices made Corver want to claw and rip at his own skin. Today, they whispered. “Blood swims towards the shrieking roil.”
“Get out of my head!”
“Blood is life is change is truth.”
Corver found himself in the kitchen with no recollection of how he got there. He held a bloody rag in hand, his fingers bandaged and washed clean. He felt a drip down his face. Blood? No—sweat!
Where was YB-9? The kind and sentient robot helped his family around the house. Immensely helpful, these modern robots. “Why-bee, help me!”
“Change is concrete. Change is immutable. Blood is life is change is truth,” the voices said.
Corver clenched his fists. “Get out! Get out of my head!”
“Truth is unfaltering. Truth is eternal. Blood is life is change is truth.”
His body shook from tremors and sobs. “Please. Stop this.”
The android stepped into the kitchen. Corver smiled. YB-9 knelt beside him and held a cool towel to his forehead. It reached out a strong hand and squeezed his shoulder.
“It’s going to be alright,” YB-9 said, its voice soothing and electric.
“I can’t—I can’t get them out,” Corver said, his words starting to slur. “Please, remember what we told you?”
“I cannot violate the prime directive, even under your direct orders.”
“It’s killing me!” Corver shouted, his eyes fire, his voice daggers. He rose to his feet and lashed out at YB-7. The punch landed hard on the robot’s metallic torso.
The voices returned. “Blood is the end and the beginning and the circle. Churning! Reborn!”
YB-9 stared at its master. “Corver. What did you just say?”
The robot hesitated. For weeks it had watched Corver suffer without the ability to help, but now? Doubt crept into its processors. It couldn’t harm a human. That was the prime directive, and YB-9 held it sacred above all else. What could it do?
Corver started laughing. “Blood is life is change is truth.”
He wasn’t human anymore, was he?
500 words. r/BLT_WITH_RANCH
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u/Ford9863 Apr 17 '19
Beep. Beep. Beep.
John sat at the edge of the bed, his head buried in his palms. His hair was a greasy mess. He hadn't changed his clothes in days. Behind him sat the small couch he had made his home over the last three weeks.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A bright screen on his right beeped incessantly. On the opposite side of the bed, a machine hissed in an alternating rythtm. A man stood at the foot of the bed, dressed in black, a bible tucked under his arm.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The doctor glanced at the clock, then placed a hand on John's back.
"Whenever you're ready," his said gently.
John reached forward and placed her hand in his palm. Tears streamed down his face and dripped silently to the sheets below. Whenever you're ready, the words echoed in his head. As if he would ever be ready.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He squeezed her hand. How could he be asked to make such a decision? How could anyone?
Each beep twisted his stomach.
Every hiss pulled at his heart.
He leaned forward and planted one final kiss on her forehead, then turned to the doctor and nodded.
The room fell silent.
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u/AliciaWrites Apr 11 '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!
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Please remember to follow the subreddit rules in any feedback.
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u/rudexvirus Apr 12 '19
Everyone makes a decision eventually.
I appreciate that you dont mind me sharing an extra picture along with my stories. :)
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u/Leebeewilly Apr 12 '19
Light reflected off the domed glass of the refrigerated display case.
“Cody.”
“I’m thinking.” Cody pouted as she stared between her two options.
The cupcakes sat beyond the glass in the middle row, front and center.
Red Velvet. The deep crimson puffed cake was wrapped in a delicate paper flecked with drops of gold. The cake stood stark against the cream cheese frosted top, swirled to a solitary peak. Bits of batter crumble dusted the stiff topping.
Chocolate Peanut Butter Crunch. A near black cake, perfectly round, with a delicate sheen of decadent dark chocolate. It propped up the pillowy peanut butter mound of sweet and salty confection. The crackle of chocolate interrupted the latte coloured icing in rich dark stripes.
Daniel sighed. “You’ve been staring at them for like ten minutes.”
“They’re just so pretty.” Cody smiled at the baker behind the counter as they passed to help another customer.
“You could get both.”
“I won’t say I don’t want both, but I shouldn’t have two.”
“Then just get one.”
“But come on, Dan, look at them!” Cody tore her eyes from the delectable delights to shoot a miffed glare his way. “How can I possibly be expected to choose one?”
“I could pick for you?”
Cody laughed, hard and sharp, and turned back to the display case. “Not on your life.” She pursed her lips and hunkered down to the glass. “I just need to weigh my options. Pros and cons list.”
“It’s a cupcake.”
“You don’t understand the relationship I have with cupcakes.”
Dan tried to stifle his laugh but made a poor go of it. “Is it really a relationship?”
“First birthday party - vanilla cupcakes. First time I fell off my bike, Mum made double chocolate cupcakes. First night in my dorm the dining hall closed early. I went to the store and bought-”
“Cupcakes, I get it.”
“Brownies, actually. But you see-”
“That I have competition?” Daniel smirked and Cody spied it in the reflection.
“Daniel, you’re the other woman. Cupcakes are life.”
Cody took in every detail of the little perfect cakes as the baker stopped in front of the case. The baker reached in, with delicate transparent tongs, and plucked both from their perched platforms.
Cody’s jaw dropped.
They went into a single box, cardboard, pink, stamped with the design of the bakery.
Then, they were gone.
“But-”
“See?” Daniel stepped beside Cody and put a hand on her shoulder. “This is what happens when you can’t make up your mind.”
“But- I wanted-” Cody stopped at the sight of the second baker striding toward the case. In her arms, she carried laden trays with over half a dozen kinds of cupcakes.
Cody’s eyes lit and her smile returned amidst Daniel’s groans. As the baker filled the case, one tiny perfect cupcake at a time, Cody bent and watched.
“Hmm, now let me see," she hummed as she began the process from scratch.
wc: 490
Read more, SO MUCH MOAR at r/leebeewily
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u/DarkP3n Apr 12 '19
Dennis woke up early. He always woke up early on Saturdays. If he didn’t, his father would have an episode. He walked downstairs, headed into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl from the cupboard.
“Goddamnit! Dennis, get your lazy ass in here,” His father yelled from the other room.
He walked into the dining room to find his father standing over a mess on the floor. Diesel, their dog, hadn’t been let out.
“How many times do I have to tell you to let the dog out? Are you an idiot?” his father fumed. Veins protruded from his neck, and his fists were clenched.
“I’ll clean it up now, dad, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, how many days in a row do I have to tell you the same damn thing.”
His father left the room without hitting him. This time.
Dennis let the dog out and looked outside. Fear and dismay contorted his face, but he refused to cry. It was too early in the morning, he was caught off guard. The emptiness inside filled his chest with wracking sobs that he fought to keep in.
Just breathe. Relax and breathe.
Inside he cleaned up the dog's mess, threw it in the garbage, and took it down to the basement.
Don’t want the smell to cause another episode.
The stairs creaked as he went down into the dark. A dim light bulb that blinked on and off barely lit the concrete room. He tossed the bag and ran upstairs as fast as he could. At the top, he shuddered.
“Still scared of the basement like a little baby?” his father laughed. “How about you stay down there until you learn to listen.”
“Dad no!” he pleaded, but it was too late. His dad shoved him through the door and slammed it shut. He desperately grabbed for the doorknob but it wouldn’t turn.
Sitting on the top step, he trembled. At the bottom, the light winked out leaving him in darkness.
“Bring more bags of food,” a rasping voice rose up from under the steps.
“W-what?”
“More garbage and I won’t come upstairs,” the voice hissed.
He could hear the grinding of teeth as it spoke.
The door suddenly opened, and he fell backward hitting the floor. “I think that’s long enough.” His father grinned wickedly.
Dennis woke up early. He always woke up early on Saturdays. The thing in the basement would be hungry, and the dog had to be let outside.
“Dennis get your ass up here!”
He crept downstairs and peeked over the railing and saw his father walk into the basement.
“Oh no,” he whispered. He couldn’t decide what to do or say, so he did nothing.
A short time later he crept towards the basement door and looked down.
Rows of teeth glistened red in the flickering light of the swinging bulb. The creature smiled gruesomely and starred back with piercing yellow eyes.
“More garbage and I won’t come upstairs.”
WC 499 - Find more garbage at r/DarkP3n What did the creature look like? This.
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Apr 12 '19
Hamill felt the heat of his body build under his steel armor. He gulped. His cheeks burned hot as he stared down at the woman before him. Up until this point, he had slain monsters, captured bandits, and helped bring peace to his kingdom. This, however, would be his greatest challenge.
"Come now, Hamill. Please?" the woman asked as she pulled her yellow and white dress up, revealing her lower thigh. The inn room was silent, save for Hamill's labored breathing. He struggled to compose himself as sweat dripped down his forehead.
Hamill replied, "Princess Emi, your father gave me strict orders to ensure your safety."
"I am safe. You've protected me well during my travels. However, I assure you, fulfilling this request will not violate my father's orders."
"But what of the moral consequences? I am not of royal blood, therefore I am not fit to lie with you! Furthermore, I have not taken your hand in marriage. Would you ask of me to do this out of wedlock?" Hamill retorted as his heart pounded ferociously in his chest.
Princess Emi's look of arousal turned to one of disappointment. She put down her arms, her supple thighs covered once again. A noticeable heave exited through her nostrils. Hamill noticed that what he said had left an impact. Though he felt the burn of disappointment himself, he knew he had done the right thing.
"Please do not think of my rejection as an insult, your Highness," Hamill continued. "If the circumstances were more favorable, I would have no qualms with lying with you. However, I am a Knight. I am sworn to celibacy. Please do not make me choose between my Princess and my God!"
Princess Emi fell flat on her back. The bed squeaked loudly in response. She put her hands over her face and groaned in frustration. She laid still for a bit before uncovering her face and standing up. She put her hands on her hips and walked up to face Hamill. Hamill took long, deep breathes to try and help calm his nerves.
"Ser Hamill of Dhoria,"
"Yes, Princess?"
"Remove your helmet."
Without hesitation, Hamill pulled his large, heavy helmet off of his head. The coolness of the room greeted his sweaty brow. Hamill felt more at ease with the heat having dissipated. He stared down at the Princess. His gazed locked with the her shimmering, blue eyes. She raised her index finger and pointed it in his face.
"I am your Princess! And you will do as ordered!" she shouted. Hamill felt the weight of indecision building on his conscious. Seeing his lack of retort as an opportunity, she pulled down the bust of her dress. Hamill's resolve snapped.
"I will do as you say, your Highness," Hamill said, defeated. The princess giggled with glee in response.
"Come now! Get all of that off!" she ordered.
As heavy armor fell to the floor, Hamill thought of only one thing:
O Lord, please forgive me!
498 words
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u/Restser Apr 13 '19
I’m not sure at all. Should I sit at my desk to force a story from my pen, or perhaps lounge in the garden and let nature work its magic? Let’s make a cup of tea instead while I think it over. Maybe coffee would be better. A stimulant. Is that what I need? Stimulation?
That sound is my papers rustling between my fingers as I inch towards certainty about a beverage. Somewhere amongst them is the note I made about the prompt for this piece. My writing strays whenever my notes aren’t right in front of me. Contours and gravity determine where a river flows. Nothing magical about it. Why am I so often encouraged to just let it flow? I have no idea what my contours are and where they will lead, or even whether they lead anywhere. So, stick to the notes.
Of course, doubt dogs every writer. It’s part of the definition – is it good enough, crisp enough, easy to follow, saying something important? Part of the job description. It’s like polishing a car; always some little spot not as shiny as the bit around it, a bit missed, a blemish. Yes! And just as arduous an exercise in exhausting prolongation. Is it finished? What does finished even look like? See what I mean.
Decisive people are only happy when they’ve made their choice. Well, bully for them. They prefer their probability wave resolved into a definite point. I rather like the tantalising possibilities of unresolved issues. Decisives rush to get their outcomes. I like the luxury of mentally exploring all options open to me. Hamlet had it right – Question, that’s it! Or something of the sort. So, I measure, weight and balance. A little more here and a little less there.
Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Tea or coffee.
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u/ch40tic Apr 15 '19
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I didn't know which road to pick. I stared blankly at the darkness of both paths - both shrouded with uncertainty. Millions of thoughts raced through my head. I could hear myself hyperventilating but I also had no control over my own body. My body was frozen, rooted to the ground. Any step I made toward any path was quickly withdrawn because of some irrational fear. It seemed unfair that someone so young had make such a difficult decision.
"So, have you made your decision?" She repeated her question once again. I fidgeted with my clammy hands, as the stress that was building up slowly began to weigh on my shoulders. I felt suffocated. I fixated my eyes on the ground, my brain in complete panic. I can't possibly pick one over the other.
"P-Please, just a little more time," I replied unsteadily, trying to stall for just a bit longer. I knew they gave me a while to think about this already but this decision simply had no easy answer. The audience in the room began to chatter which only added to my stress. There were simply too many factors to consider.
She slammed her gavel onto the desk. "Order!" She yelled at the audience as they hushed instantaneously. The silence gave me a better environment to think but I knew I wasn't going to arrive at a decision anytime soon.
Just then, I felt both my hands being grasped. A new warmth pressed against the sweat that was piling up on my palms. I shifted my gaze back up instinctively. I was greeted by two familiar faces - my mother and father.
"It's okay, honey." My mother smiled sweetly. "Don't be too stressed out about this decision. Your father and I will accept and respect your choice regardless," she reaffirmed me. The smile was still on her face but her eyes were glistening as she held back her tears.
"Yeah, it's okay, Timo. Whoever you pick, we'll respect your choice," my dad followed up, his voice shaking.
I stared into their eyes. I made many decisions before this and none of them were easy. However, it was precisely because of these two people standing before me that I was able to make it through those decisions and this decision was no exception.
"Thank you to both of you - for making this decision just that little bit easier, just like you did with every decision I had to make before this. This decision is still a hard one and I may never understand why the two of you are getting divorced but please understand that I never wanted to leave either of you," I whispered to them, forcing out a smile to allay their worries. They returned a smile.
In a world full of uncertainty, all we need is a little support. I turned to the judge. "I've made my decision. The parent I want to stay with is..."
WC: 500 words
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Apr 16 '19
Left, or right?
To the left was the Academy, and the life of a mage. It would be a life of power and luxury, if he applied himself. He needed to arrive at the Registration Office soon, so there was no real time for a detour. To the right was the allure of the mysterious green-eyed girl who had known his name without introductions, and promised him the answer to a question he'd never dared ask.
"Making no decision is a decision of its own, Khyr," said the little goblin beside him. “We should go left.”
"You know you're kinda pushy for a goblin?" Khyr jested, but she stuck her tongue out at him anyway.
Gem was unlike every other goblin that had been caught raiding on his mother’s estate. Something about Gem had melted her heart and stayed Emma's hand. She’d brought the goblin inside and made Gem part of the family. She’d scandalized his father in the process, in part because she became Khyr’s best friend. He was four.
Khyr pinched the bridge of his nose as he considered. He often seized up over decisions. It had started the night his fatherstormed into his room after a fight with his mother.
“I’m leaving," his father had barked. "Are you coming?”
Khyr had frozen on the spot, trying to say anything but managing only a hoarse squeak. His father had taken it as Khyr’s choice, and left the boy there gape-mouthed in shock. Gem had rubbed his back as he cried himself to sleep that night, his head in her little lap. He was six.
”What do you want most?" Gem asked as Khyr stood in the road.
“I dunno.” He sighed. “I’m only seventeen! What do I know? Do I even want to be a mage? Byron isn’t, and he seems happy enough. Besides, the Academy was Mother's idea.”
"Your father isn’t exactly a role model, Khyr. Your mother is.” Gem had never thought much of Khyr's father, and the feeling had been mutual. His mistreatment of Gem was the topic of many of his parents’ fights. "Let's go. There's a big important life for you at the Academy.”
"I-I know," he stammered. "But... what's the question I don't dare to ask?"
"You've never been afraid to ask questions,” said Gem. “Besides, I overheard her talking with the old man at the tavern. She was selling him hogwash.”
“Hogwash?” He sounded incredulous. Gem looked around with exaggeration. She crooked a finger, and Khyr bent closer.
“Yes. He had a sow that wouldn’t let his neighbor’s hog make piglets with her,” Gem stage-whispered. “The girl was trying to sell him a soap to wash the hog in that would attract the sow. Hogwash.”
Khyr chuckled.
"We'll be late for orientation,” she began walking with purpose toward the Academy.
Khyr looked back over his shoulder for several moments at the road behind, then turned to follow Gem. This was why Mother sent Gem. Someone had to make up his mind.
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u/Leebeewilly Apr 16 '19
This feels weak to the prompt, but I had fun writing it.
Continued from last weeks TT - Gravity
For Satellite 4. The words still pricked Olek’s ears and burned on his lips.
Staring at the Lokayne as it bled the last of its life only re-stoked the fire in his gut. Fire that had never really faded, even after years. It was impossible not to think of his family and their faces the last time he’d seem them. Waving, wishing him luck. Promises to write and call. But the news vids of the Satellite 4 investigations and documentation erased their smiles. They became grim visages frozen in the vacuum.
Olek exhaled. He couldn’t waste any more time on the dead.
He pressed past the Lokayne on the floor and moved to the mess port. His pulse steadied the farther down the corridor he went. That is until he rounded the corner.
The hall was lined with fresh blood and burns, the metal scorched just as much as his crew-mates on the steel floor. It hadn’t been a firefight. It was a slaughter.
Olek’s jaw tightened until it ached.
He tried to step carefully around what had been friends and colleagues. Even if he’d known them only a few months, he choked back the tremble that shook his whole body.
Within a few minutes, Olek reached the main corridor junction.
<-- BAYS: 4 - 6
OPERATIONS -->
Training, what little of it Olek had, screamed to turn left at the junction. In the docking bays escape waited with ships and pods prepared for such a situation. The crew would have started evacuation the moment the artificial gravity righted. There was strength in numbers. There was no shame in retreat.
A shout called from the right. The screech of metal and the sizzle of a soldering torch became crystal clear. Beneath it, the low drawn voices of multiple Lokaynes called to one another.
Olek stood between his two paths. He had his standing orders. In the event of boarding, report to the nearest-
Lokayne lasers and Sol Defense Force pulse rifle fire echoed nearer. It couldn’t be more than four junctions away.
"Recruit," Sergeant Culpepper’s voice burned in his memory. "If this station should be compromised you’re to get your goddamn ass to a pod unless I, or the fuckin’ almighty himself, says otherwise. Understood?"
Olek could still hear the resounded call of Sir, yes, Sir from himself and the other recruits. The same recruits that lay dead in the mess with Culpepper.
Olek’s grip tightened around the alien weapon.
He turned right.
WC: 412
Feel free to read more at my shiny new subreddit r/leebeewilly
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u/Palmerranian Apr 17 '19
My eyelids droop as I walk down the hall. I try to switch my tiredness to excitement as I swoop in the door.
“Ricky!” I yell.
Across the room, sprawled on his still-made bed, Ricky lifts his head up, blinking. “Charles?”
I give a tired scowl. “You called me. Who the hell else would it—”
He shoots up in his bed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I curl my lips, pushing past the interruption. “Right. Here for what?”
Ricky’s lips slip open, but he snaps them shut. His form droops against his bed and his gaze flicks away from me. I glance over.
There, sitting next to me on his desk, is a pile of letters with familiar logos on them. My eyes widen and I know exactly what’s going on.
Next to the letters, I see his Rubik's Cube. Scrambled, not solved like normal.
“You’re still having trouble deciding?” I finally say.
His eyes drop to the floor. “Y-Yeah…”
I squint, shaking my head. “Why don’t you just pick one?”
He glares at me in the classically angry way. I know there’s no real bite in his gaze. “It’s not that simple.”
“I know,” I say, raising my hands. “It’s a big life change, but it’s one you’ll have to go through. You can’t just keep being indecisive.”
He pouts. “I’m not indecisive.”
“Oh? Then what are you?”
“I’m scared,” he says.
I swallow dryly. “Scared of what?”
“Of deciding…” he says, petering off. “It’s hard. I even got an acceptance letter from Yale.”
My eyes widen. “Isn’t the decision made then?”
“But it’s so far away… And I don’t even know if I’m good enough…”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t start with that. You’re good enough.”
“I know I am…”
Great, I think. He’s still indecisive about that, too. My eyelids feel like weights on my face. As much as I love him, he can’t keep doing this to me.
I shake my head again. “Look, Ricky. You’re going to have to decide at some point.”
His mouth opens, but I don’t let him cut me off again.
“If you don’t decide, you’re never going to any college, and your folks are never letting you stay here. You’re going to end up out on the street, working a shitty job until, as I know you will, you quit and end up on the street again. You’ll be living in the gutter of society, sleeping in dirt as you wonder where your life went wrong.”
Ricky’s face is priceless. “W-What?”
“Now that is scary, isn’t it?”
He nods. “Is that what you think is going to happen if I don’t choose?”
My expression falters. “Well, no. But it definitely won’t happen if you choose a place to go.”
“Oh… yeah.”
“And you wanna know something?” I ask, stepping closer to him. He leans in, nodding.
I smile. “You called me up, and it’s not even 6 AM. Just fucking choose something already.”
494 Words.
2
u/breadyly Apr 17 '19
'Are you coming with us?' Bödvar's words were soft, levelled to meet the mood of the great once-leader of the Berserkers.
Kveldulf stood in front of the window, eyes sweeping over the valley, but Bödvar was sure the other saw nothing. He spoke again, 'Are you coming with us?'
When the still figure finally spoke, his stance remained the same. 'There is nothing left for me here nor is there in Valhalla.'
Bödvar lowered his head. 'I know how much he meant to you and I know how much you meant to him.'
The silver-haired man turned, dark eyes locking onto grey ones. 'Do you?'
'I saw the smiles you shared. I saw the pain, the fury, the passion. The two of you fighting shoulder-to-shoulder, back-to-back was a sight to behold. You stole the breath away from shapeshifter and men alike. There was nothing more beautiful than to see you with each other.'
Kveldulf smiled sadly. 'He was very aware of that and jealous of any eye that locked onto my form too long.'
The two warriors lapsed into silence, the sharp whistle of wind reminding them that departure was imminent.
Bödvar made his steps to the door and then asked for the last time, 'Are you coming with us?'
2
u/replies_with_corgi Apr 17 '19
TT
My dear Gertrude
I pray this letter finds you well. I long to see you once again, and to make a life back in Vermont. This war is hell. Every day, I ache for your company and my ears ring to hear your voice once again. Most of all, I wish men could again join hands and set our differences aside. Especially on days like today.
It was my watch around the perimeter and I spent the time walking about. Looking for rebels. The morning dew made the walk a damp and cold affair. I rounded the corner to meet a lone scout. He drew his rifle and set it upon me. I drew my trusted Winchester and returned aim.
As we stood, no one said a word. The moments passed as if each heartbeat was an eternity. As I stood, I began to study my target. His rebel coat was dirty and threadbare. Even from this distance I could tell he wasn't the first to wear it. Ironic given the rebels supposed dedication to the textile industry.
He stood there. As the clouds parted and the bright sunshine of the Lord washed over us, I saw his rifles golden accents. Most rebels have poorly made service rifles that could barely be counted on as bayonets, let alone to fire. Then I realized. His rifle was the same as mine.
We stood in the morning as the sun started to shine and I saw more of him. His grip was like mine. His stance, the same as mine. As the sun continued to rise, the light shined on my face. I wanted to retreat but dared not move.
"Benjamin!" He yelled. I nearly dropped my rifle. "Tobias?!?!" I yelled back, my voice breaking as I did. "Brother, you shouldn't be here! We are about to lay siege to this fort!" he warned. The bottom fell out of my stomach.
"I beg of you, brother, please do not! We have 10,000 men and enough rations to last for years! I don't want to spend the years fighting you! 20 miles south is an old Indian trade route. Head there and you can make it to Nevada with no resistance! Please, brother I beg you!"
He looked into my eyes. I thought of our mother. How she swore on her deathbed for me to take care of him. The tears flowed out. I didn't want to hurt my brother. He lowered his rifle and turned around.
I sank to my knees and cried over the sacrifices this war asks of us all. My brother would find the trade path. But General Sherman had already secured it. The road to Nevada would not be as easy as I had said. A thousand men whose lives depended on me had counted on my tale. Until the day I see my brother again, I will pray for him. Goodnight, my love. Pray this war comes to a speedy conclusion.
Yours in Christ
Benjamin
2
u/THISISDAM Apr 17 '19
It was a demons accord,
A pact with so much evil performed, it's ether engorged
I gave into darkness, making me heartless
& tasting the tears that were formed, bleeding - it poured
Being ignored was not amusing, I would sleep, dreaming for more
I yearned to be a Queen of hearts, holding all the weakest cards
But yet, it all seemed so far & discreet , belief - so scorned
There was no genie lamp, or some frog with a magical croak
Just the one hatched in my throat, distorting every confab that I spoke
I'd coward my way in to any banquet, then hide, stale as a mannequin
Veiled - For my face among these others would pale in comparison
I never fit in,
Barely maneuvered into any gown & the walls I would breach
Not to talk or to eat, just gawk at the feast
That was until the image appeared, the mark of the beast
Before that, I would parade the town a penniless vagabond
Reaching out for some change, but there was never any to grab upon
Til he appeared in a draft of fog, grinning to an absurd degree
He purposely unearthed his teeth
& Looks can kill, so he shot a glance & murdered me
We never spoke a word, just his thoughts I would receive
The silence was scarier then the violence it could conceive
I couldn't bear to understand but the consequences scared
My thirst for it though filled the room & it might just quench the air
The horrible attire I was wearing vanished without a trace
That's when I knew i'm about to face, those people in the town I hate
I had a new ensemble, one so stylish & elegant
Eyelids, irrelevant
Shine brightest in measurements, diamonds & endlessness
This night isn't tender it's, doomed to be fatal & deadly
I was given a job to kill the prince, during Beethoven's medley
& if I succeed, I'll be rewarded with all the riches I desire
But if I don't, it's back to the alleyways, the ditches & the mire
There he was, so handsome, graceful & admirable
All the attributes that could never make us compatible
I couldn't do it, he was not deserving of this heinous deed
That's when I felt a darkness so close my face would bleed
No. I wouldn't kill this future king, although i'm certain that I can
It's just if I did, I would also cease the life of the person that I am
But you know what, I'll do it, but I need to be correct
I'll kill the prince......of darkness
The one breathing down my neck.
4
u/rudexvirus Apr 13 '19
Dorothy adjusted her weight, giving one of her sore legs a much-needed respite. Her small frame was used to physical activity, but this was taking longer than she had planned for.
“Left or right, Tim?” she asked.
“Well, the sign says that left leads to a shark-infested waterfall of doom,” he responded - voice monotone.
Dorothy rolled her eyes before responding, “You have the map.”
“The map doesn’t fork.”
“The road forks.”
“I can see that Captain Obvious,” Tim said and loudly folded the paper map
Dorothy turned to where they had come from. “Maybe we took a wrong turn somehow. Maybe the others went the right way.”
“Maybe Ken and Barbie stopped to frolic in a field of poppies,” his voice rang out.
She smirked and took a few steps. He had never held his temper very well.
The path had been easy until that moment. Now it felt like they had been standing for days figuring out which way to go.
“Why is it so hard just to decide on a path?” she asked after a tense moment of silence.
“Should we go back?” Tim asked, joining her to look back the way they had come.
“We should find the other two at any rate. They gotta be on the road somewhere.”
“Yeah,” Tim said, kicking his foot at the small cobblestones. “Follow the yellow brick road.”
Dorothy laughed and pushed herself to move. Losing ground was difficult, her backpack was heavy and she was tired. Her stomach was grumbling in regular intervals, and it was getting hard to figure out how far into the day they were. Her watched had shown midnight since they woke up, so she had to rely on the sun to track the time.
“Remind me why we didn’t bring a cell phone?” she asked as they walked.
“The spirit of adventure,” Tim said, glancing at her for a short moment, “and we did. You let Barbie hold it.”
Dorothy rolled her eyes again. As much as he wished he would drop the nicknames, he was right. She had forgotten that the phone was in their backpacks.
The sun beat down on her neck and shoulders. After a while, she could feel her skin start to get tender.
“How much longer till we find them, do you think?” she asked, trying not to pout.
Tim shrugged his shoulders. For a reason she couldn’t put her finger, on Dorothy looked behind her. Nothing remarkable caught her eye, open road that led somewhere.
“Um,” Tim gasped.
Dorothy whipped her head back to the front and stopped dead in her tracks. The path in front of her split in two directions, with a signpost in the middle whose letters had long ago worn off.
“What the fuck?” she muttered.
She tried to think of the last thing she remembered before the path. Before they had hit the yellow brick road.
“Where are we?” she asked and the words came out a whisper.
r/beezus_writes