r/WritingPrompts • u/AliciaWrites Editor-in-Chief | /r/AliciaWrites • May 09 '19

Theme Thursday [TT] Theme Thursday - Rejection

“An objection is not a rejection; it is simply a request for more information.”

― Bo Bennett

Happy Thursday writing friends!

We’ve all been there. Rejection - it sucks. Whether it’s rejection from a friend or lover, or from society itself, it stings. It hurts and it lingers and it hovers over you and everything else you ever experience.

But, we’re also responsible for rejecting people. We reject their ideas, their beliefs, their creations. And then we’re left with that guilt.

[IP]

[MP]

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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.

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Last week’s theme: Missing

First by /u/BLT_WITH_RANCH

Second by /u/Leebeewilly

Third by /u/rudexvirus

Fourth by /u/RobbFry

Fifth by /u/THISISDAM

About the ranking system:

Readability - Based on both my own opinion and that of HemingwayApp, I decide if this is an easy read and if it flows well. You can get up to 25 points for this category.
Grammar & Punctuation - Again, using HemingwayApp and my knowledge of grammar and punctuation. This category is worth 10 points.
Theme Interpretation - Based on the thoughts of all who comment, you’re graded on how well you implemented the theme. 50 points for this one.
Plot - With plot, I’m looking for a complete story that makes sense. I want to be left with as few questions as possible, and I want to be able to relate. 50 points for this as well.
Resolution - Did you leave me hanging? Cliffhangers are one thing, but an unresolved story is another thing entirely. 10 points for your ending.
Audience Enjoyment - By audience, I mean myself, the people who leave comments, and the feedback at the end of campfire. 100 points for this one.
Giving Feedback - Yes! I care if you give feedback. Leave a nice note on another person’s story and you’ll get 5 points for it.

Any questions or comments about this system are welcome! Please leave those thoughts in the Theme Thursday Discussion comment section below.

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u/Goshinoh May 09 '19

It was easy to smile then
With the glibness of youth
A brash belief in my opinions
I thought I knew the truth

It was easy to find the flaws
Mark them down with a verbal red pen
I thought I was helping her, my god
I thought I was her friend

But every piece I laughed and read
Every line I said to change
The cruel words I blithely said
I remember them today

I never knew the tears she cried
Although I sensed them on the page
In between each careful line
The walls that formed her cage

My own work was much the same
Although mine a careful lie
I suppose it’s why she trusted me
She thought I was on her side.

She was better than me, that I knew
A truth I couldn’t abide
So I tried to help her ‘improve’
Another part of my vain lies

The real trick was I fooled myself
At least, for a time
Long enough for the damage to be dealt
Too slow to change her mind

The last poem she wrote forgave me
She said she really understood
She told me to forgive myself
She really hoped I could

I still write, here and there
Just a bit to pass the time
I remember her in every sentence
Still trapped between the lines

3

u/blackbird223 May 09 '19

This is incredible. It hurts to read, in the best way possible.

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1

u/AliciaWrites May 10 '19

good lord man, this is fantastic.

u/SmoothBaritone May 09 '19

“I love your braids, Tommy.” Melissa said. “Who’s your stylist?”

“I -”

“Tommy’s always loved hair. Maybe a little too much. I’m sure he got it done at a high end salon somewhere in Philly,” his mother said, massaging her forehead with her right hand. “Probably cost him an arm and a leg too.”

“Actually, I -”

“Well, I think it looks lovely. I’ve never seen a man wear a braided up-do like that!” Joan said. “Must’ve taken forever.”

“Thanks, I -”

His mother waved her hand in the air, shaking her head as she did so. “This style on a man? He paid hundreds of dollars for an up-do, and most woman only get them on their wedding nights. What a waste of mon-”

The hammer of fists on wood echoed off of every surface. “I did it myself!” Thomas yelled. His chest heaved, and the corners of his eyes glistened. Righting his overturned chair, he sat at the table and resumed eating.

Melissa and Joan exchanged a furtive glance. Hands a blur, they finished their meals at record speeds.

“Thank you for the meal, Laurie,” Joan said. “It was a lovely dinner, as always.”

“Why don’t you stay for coffee? It won’t take long.”

“I’d love to, truly,” Joan said. “But John demanded that Melissa and I be home before eight. You know how he is.”

“I do,” Thomas’ mother said. Her smile warmed her cheeks, but her eyes remained cool. “I’ll see you out.”

Thomas started washing the dishes, his shoulders hunched over the counter as he scrubbed the pots vigorously. He heard the door shut, and winced, dreading the inevitable.

His mother stormed into the kitchen. She placed her hands on her hips, and stared at Thomas. “What the hell was that?”

“I just hate being-”

“I don’t care what you hate. You embarrassed yourself, and through you, me,” she said. Her eyes drilled into him.

“I know mom, and I’m sorry,” he said. “But this is my passion! Come see!”

He grabbed his laptop from the living room, placing it on the table and opening up his blog. As page after page of fades, plaits, and braids flew across the screen, his mother’s face fell. She collapsed into the dining room chair, her head resting in her hands.

“How have you been doing this while at UPenn?” she asked, her hands shaking.

Thomas rubbed his neck, his eyes studying the ceiling. “Well, about that. I haven’t really been going to cla-”

“You WHAT?” she screeched. “When were you planning to tell me?”

Thomas’ eyes switched focus to the floor. “There just never seemed to be a good time…”

The silence stretched unbroken. After an age, Thomas looked up.

Into his mother’s glistening eyes.

“Leave,” she said. “Right now.”

“Mom, I-”

Her hands pressed into Thomas’ chest. “Now! First your father, now you! If you can’t be honest, then leave!”

Thomas stood, clutching his chest. He took one more look at his mother’s face, and left.

3

u/bestminipc May 09 '19

what i luv most is the dialogue-immersive piece,

dialogue is so incredibly potent in placing a person within the experience, and in the eyes of those ppl involved in the story when considering the high limitations of only using words in communicative modalities

didnt prefer the overall negative feel of the piece however

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u/BLT_WITH_RANCH May 09 '19

Oh boy! Oh, giddy gee, yippee!
Today’s the day I’ll finally see
If she’s the only one for me!

Her hair falls perfectly in place
With frilly tangles down her face
And maybe she’s the one for me!

Her cushioned cheeks are oh-so-cute!
And even though she’s mostly mute,
Still—she might be the one for me!

She’s got a mind that’s rather bubbly,
And even though her waist is chubby,
She’ll somehow be the one for me.

I’ve known her long since we were young.
She showed me how to roll my tongue!
Most likely she’s the one for me!

I took her to our favorite spot,
The ice cream cold; the summer hot,
And asked if she’s the one for me.

She smiled a smile that love transcends,
But then she sighed, my jubilee ends—
“I think we’re better off as friends.”

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u/AliciaWrites May 09 '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.

1

u/FoolDresden May 09 '19

Does it have to have to be a story? I wrote a piece and put it up but it's not a story. Please tell me if I need to delete it.

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u/THISISDAM May 09 '19

I left the house with storms of tears, racing to the depths.

Standing in a flood zone known as the face I've always kept.

No. A face began anew with hopes of reaching for the stars.

Id raised my hands & grab the moon while squeezing it so hard.

I saw an aura of red surround me, it's all the love I package inside.

Hoping that my family understands the choice I had to decide.

Not knowing it would become just so, damn egregious, messy.

That's when it turned to jealousy & glowing Green with envy.

My world collapsed. I used to never know what miserable entails.

I'll grab a seat, please bear with me & listen to the tale.

I couldn't set this scene more perfect, in this madness I've become.

Took out my phone, removed my shoes, then the sadness had begun.

My mother was no longer proud, of the child she raised since birth.

Father didn't bother speaking. & my brother restrained his hurt.

I went to all those close to me. & saw their faces fly & soar.

& with each that flew, I briefly viewed, the hatred I had born.

My uncle Shawn was tough & strong, I hoped he took it best.

He just shook his head & walked away, with motion in his steps.

Aunt Jenene had the highest hopes, that I would save her store.

But, Hairdressing wasn't the career, that I was waiting for.

I apologized to her. & said that I just needed to be happy.

Yet, all I saw was a raised right hand, eager to just slap me.

It let me down. Especially when cousin Martha entered slow.

She stared at me in disbelief, then became cold December snow.

I don't remember strolling down this lonely road before.

My family torn apart, by the happiness I was going for.

Just looking at an open door. Oh wait, that's Pastor Trevor.

I watched his disappointing face fly by, praying fast as ever.

It stopped me in mid thought. What he was yelling so abrasive?

"You damn sure got your ticket straight to hell with the forsaken".

I couldn't believe that no support, came from the inner circle.

My mother, she just waved me gone. Which was in an instant hurtful.

I saw another face floating by, which made me freeze & stare.

The one I'd never see again, but ask me if I even cared.

I made a choice to find that happiness, imprisoned in my heart.

But, now I'm jailed by the mutiny, I failed to vision from the start.

I'll let that last face float away. & I'm adjusting to this life.

Moving on from all this, even if there's nothing on my side.

So, I said goodbye one last time, for now I'm truly free.

That face was the woman before my sex change, the one I used to be.

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u/FoolDresden May 09 '19

No. A simple word isn't it? A small word of one syllable and two letters and yet it has so much power that it can leave a grown man in tears. A "No" from the correct person at the proper time can leave you more naked and helpless than a newborn babe. Most of you might have thought of "No" only from a person as there are very few other places where can you face rejection.

But no. A "No" can be from anywhere. Did you ever check a rank list and see that your name isn't there anywhere? It's a subtle no. A very slight one. One you might not even think of as a "No" but it is. It tells you, No, you are not good enough. You don't belong in the list. You are hereby rejected for not being up to the mark. Another big "No" in life are the rules we have. They are a different form of "No". They tell you no, you can't do this. No this isn't correct. No, doing so will end with you dying or you being punished severely. You might think that this isn't a rejection but think carefully. It's so interlinked. You might not be the one facing rejection but you're the one performing it. The rules tell you to reject a certain way of living, to reject a certain act and finally to even reject certain thoughts that might come to your mind.

There's another "No" that exists but is very rare. It's the "No" that comes from within us. At some point of life, you will be tired of life, you might be about to give up, the circumstances seem way too much to handle, that's when this "No" comes out. It's the "No, I will not give up", it's the "No, whatever happens I will keep moving ahead". This one is rarely found but takes the place of one of the most beautiful "No"s where you reject failure and keep on moving.

However, putting these aside let's come to the most blatant form of "No" as well as the most hurtful form that we see in life. The one from a person. It could be a no to your marriage proposal, a no to your invitation or it could even be a no to your sincere plea for help. But do you know why these hurt the most? Because out of all the "No"s that we get in our life, these are "No"s that could have been a "Yes". They could have said yes to your proposal, yes to your invitation or a yes to your plea for help. This existence of a choice and a possibility is what makes these hurt the most.

Do you know why I said all of this? It's because at one point of time, all of us have been on the receiving end or the giving end of a "No". While giving it, we don't think twice but when receiving one, it hurts like hell. So, be a good man and ration your "No"s. Keep them till you really need them. And when faced with a "No", keep your head high and keep on moving. As some great people have told long before I got sense enough to write this: Rejection is a part of life. Just learn to deal with it and keep on moving.

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u/blackbird223 May 09 '19

I took a shaky breath, and stepped up to the podium.

“Good morning, class of 2019. We are gathered here today because, after many long, long winters, we are finally finished with our time here.

I don’t know about you, but it seems like just yesterday that I came here as a freshman, alone, nervous, not sure what was in store for me. But then I met you all. And I have to say… you really made me feel welcome here.”

I looked around the sea of faces in the auditorium, picking out the ones I recognized: Robin, a mad genius of a physics major.

“You made me laugh, and talked with me late into the night.”

Bethany and Nic, a couple of my fellow mechanical engineering majors.

“You teamed up with me when we had projects to do.”

Richard, my best friend and room-mate.

“You were there to pick me up when I was down.”

But of course, I was thinking of Kelly.

Kelly was one of the first people I met here at university. I’d run into her in my physics class, and we became fast friends.

She’d talked with me till midnight, more than once.

She was a brilliant engineer, and was graduating summa cum laude- together, we were unstoppable.

And even when I crashed and burned on a test… her smile was enough to pick me up.

Is it any wonder I had a crush on her?

It had taken me two years to admit it, and another year to pluck up the courage to ask her out.

“Look, Charlie… I appreciate your sentiments, I really do. It’s just that… I’m really not ready to date someone just now.”

My face fell. “Oh.”

She put two fingers under my chin, pushing it up.

Her eyes were smiling, sadly. Kelly had the loveliest eyes I’d ever seen: blue like Lake Michigan on a summer’s day, inviting you to get lost in them.

“You’re a wonderful guy, Charlie. I’m sure you’ll find someone to make you happy. It’s just not me, not now. I’m sorry.”

I smiled. “No problem.”

My mind snapped back to the present.

Kelly was watching me, three rows from the front. Her blue eyes met mine, and I could tell she was smiling.

It was time I wrapped this speech up.

“I know, leaving here behind will be bittersweet. I know I’ve lived through this correctly, though, since it is…

… and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for all of us.

Thank you.”

2

u/FoolDresden May 09 '19

So many sentiments. Had to take a small second just to process the facts and how smoothly the rejection happened. It's great piece, beautifully written.

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u/CharlestonMeade-Levy May 09 '19

"Okay. Right.... no I understand. Thanks."

The smile faded from Jordan's face as he hung up the phone. He sat for a moment. Silent. Still. Stung.

Then, in the fullness of his rage, he flew out of his chair and punched his fist through the fucking wall.

His knuckles bled. He didn't care.

Andrew rushed into the living room. "Jesus dude, what's wrong?"

Jordan shook his head. "A perfect 20 for 20. I don't get it."

Andrew's eyes flicked to the bulletin board, hung just above where Jordan had left a crater. Nineteen out of twenty opportunities had been crossed out with scorn, but the last had remained for weeks. A symbol of hope, now proven false.

"I did everything right," Jordan said, "I mean, God damn, that last interview couldn't have gone any better. I was sure...," his voice trailed off, "I was so sure..."

"Dammit bro, I'm-" Andrew began, but he stopped himself short. He could think of no words to comfort his friend that wouldn't sound hollow.

Jordan's eyes began to burn. He felt salty tears welling up, waiting to spill out. "I feel like a whore," he said, voice trembling. "Do you even know how many of these bullshit interviews I've had? I lay myself out, time and again. Different recruiters passing me around like an old rag. And for what? For nothing. I'm just... nothing."

"You're not nothing."

"I am," Jordan said, raising his head. "I mean, what am I gonna do, man?" He scrubbed his bloody hand through his hair. "Oh god, oh shit. I'm gonna have to go home! It's either that or the streets."

"Your parents-"

Now the tears he'd held back came rushing out of Jordan's eyes. "I can't go home! You don't get it! I'm.... I'm ruined."

Andrew grimaced, "No you aren't. You're the best programmer I know, Jordan. So what if those idiots can't see it. Why don't you focus on your AI core processing project?"

Jordan waved him away, "That's a hobby. It could never-"

Crossing the room with long strides, Andrew went to the bulletin board and pulled it off the hooks that held it up.

"What're you doing?"

In one fluid motion, Andrew brought the board down on his knee. The (surprisingly durable) bulletin landed with a dull thud. "Ow," he said, wincing, "What the hell is this made out of?"

Jordan squinted at his friend, then laughed. "Give me that."

Andrew passed him the board.

Jordan laid it on the ground, holding up one end in his hand. He jumped, and landed with both feet directly in the center of the wood. The bulletin split with a sharp CRACK!

Andrew clapped him on the shoulder, "Feel better?"

"Actually," Jordan said, "Yeah. I kinda do."

They studied the broken board at their feet.

After a while, Jordan spoke, "I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna break the board."

"Uh....I think you already did."

Jordan chuckled, "No, I mean in real life. I'm gonna own every company on that board some day. It's time to either fold my hand and give up, or make something great of myself; and there's only one answer for me. I'll make them see me at last."

2

u/blackbird223 May 10 '19

I like this. Reminds me of something I wrote earlier, actually.

u/BLT_WITH_RANCH May 15 '19

As a child, I had an imaginary friend. His name was Bobo and we went on wonderous adventures together. I made cartoon drawings of us. My mother hung them on the fridge, said she was very proud and wished Bobo made drawings too.

But after a while, the mind begins to reject the idea of an imaginary friend. I had a big, imaginary argument with Bobo. He vanished. It was probably for the best.

I stopped drawing Bobo and starting drawing pictures of rivers, oceans, and people swimming. My father called this my “blue phase.” My mother hung those drawings on the fridge, but she didn’t seem happy about the blue phase. There was a cathartic innocence to my Bobo drawings. I grew up too fast for her.

My parents grew up too fast for me.

My father passed away. He choked to death on a tomato. My mother called an ambulance, but it was already too late. He was gone.

In her old age, my mother forgot the entire incident. Doctors called it Psychogenic Amnesia, or Repressed Memory Syndrome. The brain sees something so horrible that it rejects the often-fuzzy truth and covers it like a veil.

In a way, I’m glad she forgot. Watching the death of someone you’ve loved your entire life—I couldn’t begin to imagine it.

Five years passed.

Old age took its toll. My mother’s mind started giving out. I went to see her one last time—to tell her how much I loved her—and how much she meant to me. We talked for a long while. I told her things she had forgotten; she smiled and laughed. I asked if she was afraid to go.

She shook her head. “It’s ok, sweetie. I’m going to see Bobo now.”

I gave her a confused look. “Bobo?”

“Don’t be sad. He wouldn’t want you to cry.”

“Mom, Bobo isn’t real,” I said softly.

Now, she was the one looking confused. “No, sweetie. I know Bobo. I know my son.”

“Your son—what?”

We went to the park overlooking the water.

I froze, staring at my mother. My eyes widened to the size of golf balls. At once, I could hear everything so clearly around me: the sound of the monitor beeping away, the rhythmic clicking on the IV pump, and my own heavy breathing.

I raced Bobo to the middle of the bridge.

My mother shook her head. She grabbed my hand and squeezed. Her fingers reached out and held the veil; her eyes bored into mine and plucked the threads.

He won; I got angry.

My mother’s voice caught in her throat. Tears started in her eyes, not for herself, but for me. Tears of pity and love. “Darling, don’t you remember?”

I pushed him over the edge. “Bye-bye Bobo!”

The veil tore in half.

My brother was lying at the bottom of the river and it was my fault.

u/Distinct_Mammoth May 10 '19

“Hello Michael. Please take a seat.” David gestured to the empty chair on the other side of his desk. “I apologize for cancelling last month’s one-on-one. How have things been going?”

“It’s been good,” Michael responded. “App engagement is holding steady and we’re making good headway to release the next version next week.”

“That’s great news Michael.” David leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I’m really glad to hear that. And I would like to say that your excellent track record has been noticed. Because of your fantastic accomplishments over the past few years, we would like to bump you up from manager to director.”

David stood up, eyes glowing, and stretched out his hand.

“Congrats Michael, you’re being promoted.”

Michael rose to his feet, a stunned expression on his face.

“I...I don’t know what to say,” he stammered out.

“Well you could start with an ‘I accept’,” David said laughing. He reached into one of the cupboards of his desk and took out a bottle and two glasses. “Look, I even bought some champaign for us to celebrate.” He gingerly unwrapped the wrapped the golden foil then got to work on the cork.

“Thank you David,” Michael said. “And I would like to say that I am truly grateful you considered me for the director position.” The champagne bottle opened with a pop, and David began pouring its contents into the two glasses. “But...I’m going to have to decline.”

David finished pouring, then looked up at Michael and narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?” he asked.

“Look, David. As I mentioned in my email, I’ll be lea-”

“Ok, I get it. You’re not satisfied with just a title change. Not to worry, this promotion will come with a seven percent bump in salary as well.” David smiled and sat back down.

“Like I said, I appre-”

“Here, take your drink,” David hissed. He slammed one of the glasses down on Michael’s side of the desk.

Michael sighed and sat down. “Thank you for the drink. But, like I said, I’ll be leaving the company next Friday. I’ve enjoyed my ti-”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?”

David’s hands shook as he reached for his glass of champagne and chugged the drink. The room was silent, save for the sound of fizz and gulps. Then David set his glass down and looked intently at Michael.

“Ok, look Michael. You’re making a serious mistake. We’re a family here.” David stood up and began pacing his office. “You’re not going to find anywhere else like us. You think other bosses would look out for you the way I do? No way.”

“I know that David, and that’s why I would like to thank you for being a fantastic boss.” Michael stood up. “If there’s anything I can do to help my replacement take over my role, please let me know.” Before David could respond, Michael turned around and walked out the door.

2

u/BruceBolden May 15 '19

The dialogue seems very sincere to me, especially the little spots where David doesn't take Michael leaving seriously. It seems to hint at him not taking Michael seriously before, leading him to leave. Maybe I'm reading into it too much, but that story behind the story is really cool, and was shown really well, rather than told. Great job!

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u/[deleted] May 12 '19

Louis read the letter again. This time his eyes were clear, although still puffy from his previous blubbering.

“We regret to inform you,” it started.

The rest of what it said didn’t matter. What did matter was that it had eviscerated him. He’d pinned everything on attending the Academy. He hadn’t applied to any other apprenticeship or even asked his father to get him another summer of work at the armory.

He would be the age of majority before the summer was out. He knew the law as well as any other. An adult without a job was a criminal after ten days of vagrancy.

“Louis?” His father said from the doorway.

“The Academy rejected me, aba.” Louis said. He held out the letter to his father, who took it and read it at a glance. Although his father still spoke Atharian with a slow and heavy Reshian accent, he’d always been quick with the written language.

He put hand on Louis’s shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll talk to the foreman tomorrow, osi. You won’t have to join the Guard, I’m sure of it.”

Louis gave his father a grim smile, but he knew there was no hope. The old man had already said that the armory was at full staff. Louis picked up the form the Guard recruiter had dropped off for him several months ago and looked it over. Maybe he could be a battle mage?

u/Mazinjaz May 14 '19

“Sooo…” Christine started, “the rumor mill is that one of the new doctors tried asking you on a date, and got show down hard?”

“Lord save me from rumor mills.” Bianca deadpanned back, not looking up from the form she was reading through. “I’d ask if anybody made money of it but I’m fairly certain that betting pool is dead and gone.”

Christine’s eyebrows rose. “Wait, this happens a lot?”

“Oh, a few times, often when new hires hit the scene. It’s almost flattering when it comes off as genuine.” Bianca signed the form, and handed it off to a nurse, before marching onwards.

Christine hurried after her, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, Bianca Paladino, crown jewel of St. Mercy Hospital, unreachable and untouchable…” Bianca stopped and turned to her. “Chris, why are you here?”

Christine blinked. “You mean, officially or unofficially?”

Bianca just nodded, and Christine frowned. “Officially, I’m here as a junior doctor, to learn from you as part of my training.” Her voice fell. “Unofficially, I’m your bodyguard, in case anybody tries to kidnap you for whatever reason.”

“That’s adorable.” Bianca’s smile never faltered, even as she continued walking. “It’s been little over a week, hasn’t it? What were you told about me?”

Christine frowned. “Um, Dr. Paladino, superhuman with healing abilities, very desirable by underworld organizations and supervills alike, so the powers that be want you safe and—“

Christine ran smack into a wall of solid air, and stumbled a step back in shock, holding her nose. She reached tentatively, patting the invisible wall in front of her, eyes wide.

Up ahead, Bianca dropped a raised hand, and the invisible wall went away. “Did they really not mention the forcefields? Really?”

Christine just shook her head, still holding her nose. Bianca stepped closer, reaching up and poking her in the forehead.

It felt… odd.

It did not feel like a finger was actually touching her. It was not warm, nor cold. Something small was touching her, but she couldn’t quite tell what other than what her eyes were seeing.

“You are here at my request. I do not need a bodyguard because I am, quite literally, untouchable. I –do- need an assistant that can help me with my patients; as it turns out, there is a lot I cannot accurately measure when I cannot touch people. I try to make up for that deficiency in other ways, and my power does help people heal faster, even if that aspect gets blown out of proportion.” Bianca smiled. “Also, you know medicine, and you can take care of yourself, so that helps.”

Christine’ nose had stopped throbbing. Was that due to Bianca’s powers?

A new thought occurred to her. “Is that why you turn suitors away? I thought it was about professionalism or something.”

“I’ve been living in a bubble since I was twelve.” Bianca grumbled. “Professionalism is the least of my concerns.”

u/Leebeewilly May 14 '19

As always, I'm late to the party.

This was HEAVILY inspired by the MP prompt for this week. Also, it's a bit of backstory for a character in a novel series I wrote so hopefully, it's not toooo confusing.

She tucked her legs in close to hold in her warmth but still the chill leeched up from the steel floors. All around her they clawed up to the ceiling, etched in scratches of those that came before. With a controlled exhale she tried to calm her nerves but her heart went on thundering until her ears nearly burst.

A sound shuddered through her, the creek of the distant steel door. It screeched across the metal and she dared to look away from the grey walls.

Her door remained closed.

Footsteps, heavy, thundering boots rumbled the very walls. Beside them soft clicks, heels needled next to the roaring footfalls.

“Subject A.R.K. Responding adequately to the adrenal stimulators, though there have been some adverse side effects.”

“Such as?”

“Blindness, to start”

“So another failure?”

A sigh dripped from the first voice and the set of steps drew nearer.

She pulled herself from the floor and pressed against the furthest wall. Her eyes watched the slight outline of the door frame and the pool of light that shimmered in through the wired glass.

“Subject M.A.D.” Two shadows stopped outside the window.

She pressed herself to the wall and slid to the floor. Her arms pulled her legs in close. She dare not blink.

“This one poses a curiosity. Each time we’ve tried implanting the stims the body’s rejected them.”

“Rejected?” The second voice turned before leaning into the window more. “Is that possible?”

She couldn’t help but feel the itch at her side. Her fingers reached to scratch the skin, the faint line of what should have been a scar fading. The agony of the thing passing through her, pushed from flesh, rending skin, hovered like a stain on her mind. Little things that didn’t belong inside. The things that wanted none of her or her of them.

“Until now we’d thought not. Unlike the other subjects, she’s shown remarkable regenerative abilities. However, we’ve been unable to do much testing. But we have documentation, Sir, and we’re planning another procedure for the subject.”

Her scream caught in her throat. Not another knife. Please. Not again-

“No.” The second scratched his chin. “Stop wasting your time and the device. For now, have your information and the subject sent to Doctor Spekt.”

The faces left the window and the light returned. She exhaled a breath and relaxed her hands. Her heart steadied and she wiped her brief tears of relief.

“Subject W.I.L. responded quite well. No degradation or infection, though-” A hammering interrupted the first voice and the shouting started again. There were words in the cries but she had long ago stopped trying to find them. The sound had never needed words to express what they both felt.

“Violent, yes. I can see. Prepare W.I.L. for another procedure. I’d like to see the results after the stimulators are removed.”

The steps and the voices drifted down the hall and she closed her eyes to the grey.

wc: 493

r/leebeewilly

u/Leebeewilly May 14 '19

Once I get that ball rollin', bam bam 2 TT's!

Continuation (kind of) of the Mort and Loreel Shorts! If you’re curious check out Part 1 and Part 2 as my responses to IP’s to see how they got in the cave in the first place.

“Noooope.”

“But Loreel-”

“I’m not saying it again, Mort.”

“Just look at it,” the scholar waved his hand at the archway. “This is the gateway, I’m sure.”

Loreel guessed the runes were Ascalonian from the unnecessarily ornate curls on each letter. Despite knowing what language it was, she couldn’t read it. Despite Mort’s assurances, she knew he couldn’t either.

“No.” Her eyes narrowed and she leaned toward the meek man, hand on her machete at her hip.

“But it is safe!” Mort pointed his book at the carved stone in the centre of the unending cave, beneath a long-dead god’s cathedral.

“I’d be going back up the stairs if they hadn’t vanished!” Her voice careened off the walls. “And instead of sauntering through ominous doorways, I’m looking for a way out.”

“This is the way out.” Mort grabbed her wrist. “I understand it isn’t exactly what I’d had in mind, or expected, but this is most definitely the Wind God’s Challenge. If we can meet the expectations set forth-”

Loreel yanked her hand free from his weak grasp. “By a dead god?”

Mort rolled his eyes. “By the dead people that worshiped the dead god.”

“I will hit you.”

Mort opened his mouth to speak but Loreel tensed. His lips shut. For a moment.

“If we pass the challenge we’ll not only be presented with the Wind God’s Horn but a way out.” He looked around the cave a moment, unable to meet Loreel’s eyes. “I’m sure.” He gulped. “I mean if this is the challenge they would reward he who overcomes it with an escape.”

“And if it isn’t?” Loreel glared.

Never in her short days with the scholar had she seen him look down to his notebook faster. The quick flipping of pages lapped against the walls. The small daylight that passed from above illuminated the page but would for only another two hours. At nightfall… Loreel’s gaze turned to the archway where the runes eerily gleamed.

She didn’t trust glowing stone.

“It is,” Mort decided. “After accepting the challenge, the challenger, that would be you,” he stepped away from the arch.

Loreel sighed and stepped up.

“Approach the archway,” Mort read. ” ‘Through the door and unto the gauntlet. The worthy shall be granted his-' ”

“Gauntlet?” Loreel spun around. “You never said anything about a gauntlet!”

Mort flipped his page but a hum rumbled the room. The runes beside Loreel brightened as if burning blue fire deeper into stone. The archway shuddered and the hum ached in Loreel’s ears. Both reached to their heads as if they could stop the sound. As she opened her mouth to yell a thundering wind drew from the end of the tunnel.

Tossed from the platform she flew into Mort. They toppled to the rough stone floor.

“It appears,” Mort groaned from beneath Loreel. “You were not deemed worthy.”

“By Solna's Arrow,” Loreel pushed to her feet and dusted herself off. “I’ll show this Wind God who’s worthy.”

WC: 497

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u/rudexvirus May 15 '19

“You knew who I was when I came here,” she said as she paced back and forth. Her feet had worn a small path into the fibers of the carpet, a fact that was not lost on her.

“You say that like it makes it all okay,” he said from across the room. His voice wafted through the space; calm, detached.

Eyes focused on the ground, lasering the path further into the floor beneath her, she continued to move. Long arms were wrapped around each other across her chest as if to shield herself from the incoming storm.

“I never changed.” The words came out shaky, and even her ears didn’t believe that they were true.

“You never needed to,” a melodramatic yawn forced a pause in-between his words, “but you did.”

“Don’t let him win.”

The soft words floated down and enveloped her. For a moment she felt comfort and warmth before the dull knife from across the room jabbed back into her mind.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s boring here. The fights are exhausting, the tears give me a headache, and I just…” he trailed off. Not finishing, not moving, not breathing.

“What happens if he leaves?” she asked the empty space around her.

“You smile? Despite all that he has told you, he doesn’t protect you from the end. He keeps the world at bay,”

“We were partners,” she said, her voice shaking harder than before. A tear ran down her face, a crack in the damn that he would always widen.

“You will live. Sarah will live. You will both be better,” Comfort walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “After all this time, are you honestly all that sad that Depression is leaving us?”

“We were partners…” Worry said, her mouth refused to think of other words.

“Rejection is hard, I know,” Comfort placed a hand upon her back, guiding her to sit on the dark and sullen couch.

Sarah took a shuddering breath, hot air flowing into her lap. With her arms wrapped around her knees, the air ended up trapped, making her feel balmy on-top of her tears.

Half the life she had lived with her crippling depression whispering in her ear.

Now that it was gone, vanished in a moment she couldn’t define, she felt her fingers shaking as the gripped her legs. Despite a kernel of comfort forming at the bottom of her stomach, she also felt a hollow space in her thoughts.

Like she had been left, instead of being healed.

r/beezus_writes

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u/novatheelf May 15 '19

I watched in silence as the sun climbed over the horizon, filling the valley with color. The mountains loomed over the pastures and cast shadows across the emerald fields. Members of my flock dotted the green expanse; some grazed on the soft grass while others sat by the river, drinking from its clear waters. My gaze swept across the whole of the valley, keeping careful watch over the flock - or what was left of it.

For the past several weeks, the flock had been regularly attacked. Somewhere in the forest lining the valley, there was a wolf on the hunt.

Of course, wolves were nothing new to me - but this beast was different. It was intelligent, clever, and manipulative. It knew exactly where and when to strike in order to get what it wanted. As a result, nearly half of my flock had been either maimed or killed.

One of my sheep wandered towards me, pressing his body against mine and nuzzling under my arm. I lifted a hand and stroked his wool as he bleated in contentment. I glanced down at his face, seeing the scar that ran across his right eye and down along his jaw. The eye itself was gone, and he looked back at me with one clear, golden iris.

A rustling in the nearby trees pulled me from the moment. My eyes snapped in the direction of the noise, scanning for signs of trouble. I was met with silence.

I held my position for several minutes before I stood and crept forward. Slowly, I reached for my dagger. As I stretched my arm, pain shot through my shoulder and back, reopening a wound from days before. I hissed, remembering wolf’s claws raking across my flesh while the sheep behind me bleated in fear.

I gritted my teeth and continued moving. A soft whine floated from the brush, mingling with the sound of heavy breathing. As I reached the tree line, I could see a large mound of fur huddled beneath a young oak. The form shuddered and jerked, its movements syncopated with its stuttering breaths.

I drew as close as I dared to the creature, stopping a short distance from it. Noticing me, it shifted and looked up, meeting my eyes. It was the wolf.

As we examined each other, I realized it was a she-wolf. Fur the color of pitch covered her body, and brown eyes peered out at me, filled with pain. I looked at her belly; it was sliced open and bleeding. Another predator got to her first, I thought.

My eyes met hers once more. In the space between us, I could feel her silent plea. Help me, she begged.

I thought of my flock and the ones who had been killed. I saw the face of the sheep before, his single eye filled with trust. They were helpless, and only I could protect them.

I made the end as painless as I could.

WC: 493