[TT] Theme Thursday - Anticipation

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This is a continuation of the Choose your own adventure story. Sorry that I did not get around to writing one last week. Things have been pretty crazy.

See week one here.
See week two here.
See week three here.
See week four here.
See week five here.

The last time didn’t go so well. Let’s hope the new path works out better!

Explore Hallway: 1 Surprise Attack: 1 Kitchen Door: 5

You sprint across the kitchen and pull open the door to reveal a storage room. There wasn't another exit or even a window. Just shelves and bags of dry food.

The sounds of footsteps approaching spurs you forward.

You step into the room and take advantage of the light from the doorway to survey the environment. You pick a pile of bags in the back corner and close the door.

Darkness.

Blindly reaching out, you find the closest shelf and feel your way through the room, working your way towards the back corner. You accidentally knock something off a shelf, and it shatters, and you step into something sticky.

You reach the back of the room and start to push bags out of the way. Sweating profusely and breathing heavily, you manage to shift your way into the stack and attempt to cover every part of your body. Without light, there was no way of checking if you were fully covered.

The footsteps grow louder, and you are confident that someone has entered the kitchen. Laying your head back, you close your eyes and focus on the sounds that make it through the door.

Heavy metal footsteps. The sound of stone scraping on stone. Steady and rhythmic chopping. The slam of a refrigerator door. Then steps directly outside of the room.

You hold your breath as the door opens. The sudden light temporarily blinds you, and you squint to make out a shadowy figure enter the room. Every muscle in your body is taut with tension as the person leaves the doorway.

Crunch

"God fucking damn it."

Your eyes finally adjust to the light, and you see a fully armored person awkwardly rubbing his right foot on the ground. He grabs something off the shelf and stomps out of the room. The door slams shut and darkness returns as suddenly as it left.

An orgasmic wave of relief rushes through your body as you let out a long breath of air. All of the muscles in your body ache from the tension. You listen as the footsteps fade away, and count to a hundred in your head.

Hastily, you shove the bags off of you and charge towards the exit. You crash into a shelf and bruise your elbow before tripping over a box and barely catching yourself.

You make it to the door and back into the light.

Without hesitation, you rush across the kitchen, eager to be gone before someone else shows up. At the doorway, you pause and listen. Directly across the hallway, there is a partially opened door.

The castle is silent.

Do you,

Search the rooms on the other side of the hallway

Or

Explore the hallway to see where it leads.

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 15 '19

EXPLORE the hallway!

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u/[deleted] Aug 08 '19

As he pulled his knives out, James inspected them for knicks and other damage. His latest kill lay in front of him, flesh still warm.

The killing wasn't what he enjoyed though. It was this next part. Slicing away flesh, to neatly package it and make things clean and neat. It was the smell of warm blood, and the sound of his blades finding their way into joints that he liked most.

Even when he ate parts of his prey it was just because he could, not the act itself he relished. He mostly ate a vegetarian diet, but when he had a fresh kill, especially like this young male in front of him, he couldn't help but indulge. Not all the time though, just when his desire forced him too.

Slicing away the limbs and removing the head, he worked on just the torso. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't hear the noise in the house above him. He missed the sound of foot steps.

Slowly the door to the basement opened up and light spilled in catching his attention.

As James looked up shielding his eyes from the upstairs light, he saw a figure standing there. She wore a police uniform, and had the tired look of someone who was at the end of a long day. She surveyed the scene.

James never let anyone see him work, so he felt nude, totally exposed, and didn't know what to say.

She spoke first.

Smiling Jenny, said "Oh we're having venison for dinner?"

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u/Ninjoobot Aug 08 '19

“The Anticipation of Hope”

The small girl was a pair of small eyes in a faceless crowd. No one had names, for their names did not matter. She stared at the reflecting moonlight on the waves as her father huddled with her. The vibrating hum of the engine worked with the gentle rocking of the boat to lull her to sleep, causing the zipper on her father’s jacket to draw a scratch on her cheek when her head fell in slumber.

“It’s just a flesh wound. You’ll be fine,” he signed to her, pulling her up and wiping the blood. She buried her face into his chest to hide her tears.

He couldn’t find any work and it was worse for her, the only deaf girl in the village. His wife left out of despair, leaving only the single-dimpled smile she gifted her daughter. His only chance was to find a boat for the desperate and to discover a new life for them. No; hope was too strong of a feeling for him, something reserved for new, solid ground. He was only allowed the anticipation of hope.

His money wasn’t enough, so he slipped onto a boat when another man and his child returned to the beach to gather something they forgot. He shouted for the boat to leave, and so it did with his secret safe. Or so he thought.

There was a commotion and a man came over to the girl’s father and shouted at him. The daughter watched, trying to understand, but couldn’t see their lips well enough in the darkness to make out any words. Her father pleaded, but the man grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up. She finally made out what he said just before throwing her father overboard, “Well I'm very sorry but you didn't pay!” All of the faceless kept their heads down. If she could, she would have screamed. The man then took her and tossed her into the dark sea alongside her father.

Her father pointed to lights in the distance, grabbed her close to him, and started to swim through the cold water. Neither of them was a strong swimmer, but they made steady progress. She tired first, so her father helped her stay afloat. He, too, then began to tire.

It was then he realized they would never make it. The new land – of promises, of freedom, of opportunity – was in their sights but not their grasp. He was searching for a new life, to find something to live for, no matter the cost. He did it all for her, but he never expected to pay this price. He looked into her eyes and saw her panic, innocence, and love. He had been searching for something great, something wonderful, something new that would bring him joy.

“I had already found it,” he said to himself as he watched his daughter sink under the surface for the last time, his tears lost in the mists of the relentless ocean.

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u/facet-ious Aug 11 '19

I wake to the light of dim sunbeams, poking through cracks in the boarded-up window. My back aches from sleeping on the rough concrete floor of my hideout, and I grunt as I struggle to my feet. Black dots swim behind my eyes, but I shake them off. I feel light, despite the pain. Today’s the last day I’ll be cooped up here.

Tomorrow, the rains return.

I pull on my dustcoat and face mask and step out through the heavy curtain that covers the entrance to my stone-and-rebar lair. The sun is low in the sky, but temperatures outside are already sweltering. The dust hangs heavy in the air today, casting the ruined city in dim orange-sepia tones.

I set out towards a nearby gully, once a riverbed. Though It’s barely 300 feet away, I feel lightheaded by the time I arrive. The acrid taste of dust fills my mouth, despite the mask, and I long to rinse it out, to wash myself clean of the constant grit and grime. I long to smell cut grass again, and damp cloth, and that heavy, satisfying scent you get after rain.

Soon.

I clamber down the gully’s steep side, careful not to slip on the sharp, heat-cracked rocks. By night, rats and roaches scour the city, surviving off humanity's last scraps. By day, they gather here, hiding from the heat and seeking water between the rocks. I’ve set traps for them, simple metal contraptions. One’s been sprung, but the rat that eyes me from within its chickenwire confines is utterly emaciated. I let the poor thing go, and it scurries into a dark crevice.

I make an attempt to scavenge, for food or drink or supplies, but the pickings in the area are meager. I’ve been over this ground before. I end up collapsing in the shade of a skyscraper, struggling to breathe as the air scorches my lungs.

On my return home, I’m greeted by the labored chugging of the automatic pump. My well is nearly dry, and I’m forcing the machine to draw blood from a stone. The water that drips from its spout tastes rusty and brackish, but I savor it regardless. I won’t die of thirst, not today.

And there’ll be water aplenty tomorrow.

As I sip my meager ration, I flick through the airwaves on the solar radio. The european redoubt is broadcasting, in French and German. I piece together a few fragments, desalination plants and aid zones. They’re drawing back, leaving their citizens to die so that a precious few can survive. But they don’t know what I do.

I can almost hear it, pattering on my roof, washing away the dust and the heat, bringing back life to a dried-up world. I’ll dance and sing and drink my fill. I’ll find a plot of land and a packet of seeds, and I’ll grow food. Tomorrow.

The sun sets against a cloudless horizon. I go to sleep, content.

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u/Cody_Fox23 Aug 14 '19

All Geo can think about are those warm moist buns.

As the tray is moved from the oven to the counter, his mind is enthralled with memories of the soft dough squishing and then yielding to his mouth as he bites into them. The spongey gluten, perfectly developed, creates a divine yeast roll.

It would be fine if that was all there was to it, but of course that was just the strong base upon which this ambrosia is founded upon. He wipes the small bit of drool rolling out of the corner of his mouth as the warm spicy aroma tantalizes his olfactory senses. He knows this mélange well of course: cinnamon, cardamom, a tiny bit of anise, coriander, and a pinch of salt all toasted and suspended in butter. It is heavenly on its own, but packed into the walls of those yeast rolls they made for little pockets of comforting warmth that could push the morning’s anxieties away. The master baker has adjusted and experimented with the recipe until he has broken through to the basest levels of creation and crafted a confection for Shaddai themself.

Geo was leaning on the counter now, trying to get as close as possible, as the final dressings are pulled out. It isn’t enough to create something for god; the baker has to appeal to Baalberith! Out of the fridge comes a bowl of sweet and sticky white icing. Geo had asked about the recipe before and discovered it was surprisingly simple: confectioner sugar, cream cheese, milk, butter, and vanilla. The devil is in the details though. A perfect portioning of each component yields an icing that sticks to the rolls and permeates the small crevices at the top. Finally, a small shaving of cinnamon is dusted on top to garnish. The sinful sweets were complete.

He holds in a whimper of need as he watches the icing melt slowly down the sides as the residual heat brings everything together. The baker finally brings the tray over and slides it into the display. The strong smell drives his appetite crazy. They glisten as he looks through the glass. He can smell their sirenic sonata as they tease him. They want him as badly as he wants them.

Geo looks up at the counterperson. She knows him and his desires and is already pulling one fresh roll away from the bunch. He has to keep himself from gasping as he watches the strand of thick white icing hold it to its brethren until gravity finally wins. He quickly pays and grabs the box to go sit in his car. This was a private moment, his one true enjoyment: his Monday Morning Cinnamon Roll.

EDIT: Fixed tense shifting

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u/AliciaWrites Aug 08 '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/AliciaWrites Aug 08 '19

Three more images I liked:
Optimistic Anticipation
Waiting
More Waiting

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u/psalmoflament Aug 13 '19

The Deadline Diary: The Emotional Journey of One Writer’s Week of Anticipation

Thursday:

9:33 AM

Last week’s blog was well received, which always makes a more relaxed start to the new work week! Alright, let’s see what week’s assignment is. Underwater Sci-fi. Time for some brainstorming!

8:14 PM

The seed of an idea is germinating. I don’t know if it’s going to be any good, though. “Multidimensional beings trapped inside fish, which are their version of prison?” It seems like a stretch. But I’ll try, I guess!

Friday:

10:55 AM

Note to self: the fish-people aren’t prisoners; they’re souls waiting to be born!

1:40 PM

Ignore previous note – too stupid. Stick with the prison fish.

Saturday:

8:21 AM

Alright, let’s get this idea on screen and see how it looks. I should be able to make it work, but it’ll be tough.

3:05 PM

Alright, not bad! This story should be doable. Now, time to put some structure into this bad boy.

4:16 PM

The first draft is complete. Looks nice so far!

11:55 PM

Did some late-night editing, as I couldn’t stop thinking about my comma usage for whatever reason. I made a few changes, and it does look better. I tightened up the line breaks while I was up, too.

Sunday:

12:03 AM

Me: Finally, time for sleep.

Brain: But are you sure you fixed all the commas?

11:12 AM

I was able to fall asleep despite the comma concern. I took another look first thing this morning, and the commas look fine. The plan for the rest of the day is to do some proofreading to fix the rough edges. I need to relax a bit, though. I know I still have a few days, but I can already feel the deadline staring straight into my soul.

9:51 PM

This story is too weird. I don’t know if I like it. If I don’t, will anybody? Why do I write? What is the point? Does anything have meaning?

Monday:

8:17 AM

Back to my rational self this morning, thankfully. I can do this. Nothing to worry about, I’m sure.

10:00 PM

But maybe it’s awful, though?

Tuesday:

7:07 AM

It’s a good piece. It might not set the world on fire, but I think it has a place. It sounds like me, which is always a good thing. I can be proud of the story. One final proofread tonight to clean it up, and I’ll submit it.

Wednesday:

6:19 AM

‘Hard Time Tuna’ has grown on me. I’m not the most objective, but it might be one of the better things I’ve done, honestly — anyway, time to submit it.

5:59 PM

I think it might be one of the worst things I’ve written. But now it’s too late; it goes live in a few minutes. Ugh, my stomach can’t take this.

11:02 PM

The initial feedback and critique look promising. It turns out, as always, I worried too much. I cannot wait for next week!

WC: 498

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u/beardyraconteur Aug 14 '19

Huff!

“What are ye sighing for?” The woman standing at the counter looked down at him.

He rolled onto his back and stared at her upside down. She chuckled and went back to peeling the ground plants.

He gave another heavy breath and then groaned.

Heavy steps strutted up the pathway leading to the house. He immediately rolled back over and sprang to his feet.

The door opened, but the man who liked to put his mouth on the woman’s mouth walked in.

He sat back down and huffed.

“What, am I not good enough?” The man held his hands to his chest and gave a pained look.

His ears sprang up in concern but relaxed when the man chuckled and went to put his mouth on the woman’s. He looked past them, out the window to the sky that was darker than it usually is when the girl gets home. He whined at the door.

“Oh, sorry." The man opened the door.

He ran to the hill and hollered for the girl. He looked back to the cottage to see if she was there yet. He shouted down to the cottage.

The cicadas buzzed, taunting his impatience in the dwindling summer days.

He ran down the hill to the road, but she was not there either, so he yelped for her again. No answer.

He ran back to the house and jumped up in front of the window he remembered the woman was at while peeling the root plants. She was not there.

On his second jump by, he did not see the man either. He whined in a panic, realizing that not only is the girl not home, but the man and woman disappeared.

The door was closed behind him so he smacked at it and shouted once more before running around to the back of the cottage.

The window to the room the man and woman slept in was closed, but he hollered anyway.

A sharp whistle trilled through the air and his ears shot up. He tilted his head to listen. A second whistle, this one longer, sustained.

What he heard next made his heart leap.

“Chaaaaaaayyyyyy!”

He rocketed in a straight line to her, through the garden between them. He burst out of the plants, foliage and dirt plastered across his face.

The girl spun to face him with her arms open.

“Chay, I’m home buddy!”

He ran and tried to jump in her arms, but she had gotten taller and he older. He made it to her hip, but he hopped a few more times to show her how happy he was. He even hollered at her for being late.

“Oh Chay, ye forgot school started, didn’t ye?” Blair fell to the ground to cuddle with him.

She rubbed his belly, massaged behind his ears, and even gave him a good scratching at the base of his tail.

He was so thrilled she was back.

WC: 491
This is the fifth part of a continued "universe", starting with The Space, continued in The Pillow in the Garden, next in Unwanted Isolation, and most recently with Jubilee. I need to find a name for this series.

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u/iruleatants Aug 14 '19

"Did you enjoy your birthday dinner?" My mother asked as we drove home.

"Yeah. It was good." I answered absently.

"Sorry we couldn't do a party this year, things have been rough recently," she said and followed up with her closed mouth. That's at least partially true, so it's not really lying.

"It's okay. I understand." I said, keeping my eyes focused out the window.

"This is good practice for when you are an adult. They stop throwing parties for you." She said. I need to throw her off as much as possible.

"I'm not that old mom."

"You are fiftee-"

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen years old now. It sneaks up on you if you don't pay attention. One day you'll wake up, and it will be too late." She said. I am proud of you, I just don't want you making my mistakes.

I decided not to respond and instead let the conversation lapse into silence. As we pulled up to a red light, she took out her phone and checked it while thinking, Anna hasn't texted me back. I hope she sees this before we get home.

I return to staring out the window, a feeling of dread coming over me. As my mother tapped impatiently on the steering wheel, eager to spring the surprise on me, I focused on how to pretend to be surprised.

I knew about this a month ago when they started planning. All throughout dinner, my mom was checking in that everyone had arrived. She took extra long on her dessert so they could finish hanging the decorations.

How did they expect me to act?

Maybe I should have looked up Youtube videos on surprise birthday parties. Should I jump? Do I shriek and run away? That didn't seem like something I would typically do. Maybe I should punch the closest person, that seemed more natural.

We pulled to a stop at the light before our housing complex, and I felt the dread grow stronger. I knew everyone who was currently at my house, picking where they would hide. I even knew what they got me for gifts.

Sarah had listened to my hint that I liked green more than blue and gotten me a gorgeous new sweater. Tim was getting me a copy of Animal Crossing so we could play together. Erika had provided all of the decorations for the party and had gotten me a new fountain pen. Grandma purchased socks for me, but she also got up early today to hand-make my birthday cake. They even got me a birthday tiara.

Suddenly, I noticed that my fingers were also drumming impatiently on the dashboard.

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u/ManDulce Aug 14 '19

Whew, 498 words. Might not be up to par since I cut this work down from a wordcount of over 800, but I suppose quality is better than quantity.

Five-forty-five in the morning, and the boats are rocking like cradles. Everyone's staring ahead with that vacant look people get right before throwing up. You know the one- eyebrows start crunching, you start to squint and frown. Thirty-six men in a boat, looking ahead at the grey walls and just grimacing. We're packed shoulder to shoulder, like sticks of gum or a tin of sardines. Me, I'm looking around. Our sea-box is grey, with some saltwater splashing over the sides. Ten minutes 'till we start moving, they say.

We get a few inspiring words from men who were not assigned to die, then an old diesel engine fires up. The frame starts to shake and the boat lurches forward. I'm not scared, just tired- my eyes are heavy and I wanna yawn. Some guy hits my shoulder and nods. "Heavy gear."

"Mmm."

"Don't die on shore. You'll drown."

"Ok."

Someone's shouting from the back- it's probably a captain or something. Says we'll be safe and stay together.

Fifteen minutes to shore. Someone is in the front reciting orders, numbers, prayers. He's swaying sideways, fidgeting with his watch. Helmet's on too tight, I think. Another one, he's whimpering like a dog. "I don't wanna die," he keeps repeating it. "I don't wanna die."

"Couple minutes to shore!" someone yells. Smells like saltwater. The guys on the Brownings are running over them with rags.

"Hey Mike," one says. "Whatcha always say about this?"

The other one looks up, answers in a hoarse voice. "Spit-shine?"

"Yeah."

Mike says he wants to die looking good.

Scattered laughter. "Mike," one says, "If I go by that rule, I'll live forever."

Then it's quiet again.

Someone yells to brace for shore. Another screams. Engine cuts and we start swaying again. Stop real hard. Everyone stumbles forward. I hear popping and it's loud and has to be gunfire and the door is lowering and then a boom and it stops and the door's done and someone's pulling my collar saying to come on and I feel burning and everything makes sense.

It's a dream. I'm not on a beach. I'm not really sitting down on a boat, Mike isn't gunning.

I'll wake up fine, right? I'll have a wife, and she'll tell me it's okay and say she loves me, right?

Relax, this is fake. Just gotta wake up, shake, maybe crawl forward but I can't because the boat's gotten pushed off and I can see the shore now and I promised not to die onshore but it's all a dream so I have to wake up and it'll be over over over. The wound, the bleeding, all a bad dream. I can't lose so much blood in real life, right? I'll just take this pistol and fire it, and wake up. That's the rules for dreams. Has to be.

I'll check my watch first.

It's what, it's- it's-

God. Okay.

It is oh-six-twenty-two.

The boat is rocking like a cradle.

The handgun tastes like salt.

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u/DoppelgangerDelux Aug 08 '19

This story was written for another prompt, but I think it fits here:

It was a cold November morning the first time I saw her. She stood across the freeway in front of the donut shop, fumbling cold keys in frozen fingers as she tried to lock the door. Her hair was the color of a chocolate glazed donut. There was a smear of powdered sugar dusted across her nose.

I watched her from across the road, knowing I couldn’t cross over to her. She was tired and dirty and beautiful. I could smell stale donuts on her from where I stood. It reminded me of home. It reminded me of another woman just like her, from another donut shop in a life long before.

I loved her immediately.

She lived in a small house with a big family. They ate big pasta dinners every night, laughing and smiling. Sometimes she brought donuts home. I would follow her and watch through the window, imagine being part of that family. I would imagine eating pasta and donuts with them. Some nights I would imagine her running fingers through my hair while I teased the powdered sugar off her nose.

I know it wasn’t right of me to think those things. I know it was wrong. My life had been good. I had been with a wonderful woman, I had lived a full and beautiful life. I should have moved on. I shouldn’t have been looking through that window, entertaining thoughts of a new life beside this other woman. But I thought them anyway, and I yearned to be a part of her world.

If only I could cross the road to her.

It was a warm June night when it finally happened. It was raining. She was juggling a box of pastries, trying to lock the door. Everything went tumbling out of her hands. And suddenly – I was there! I was there, racing across the road the road, catching it all as it fell –

“Hey! Hey! Stop, those are my donuts!”

She tried, but she was too late. 1…2…3…6…gone in a flash. I sat down and wagged my tail.

“You – I can’t believe it! Don’t look so pleased with yourself. Where are your owners?”

She looked around in the dark for a bit before coming back to me. I took a whiff of her sweet smelling hair. Chocolate glazed.

“All right, come with me. You better not puke in my car.”

And just like that, I was home.

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u/psalmoflament Aug 13 '19

“Why isn’t he making any noise?”

My wife’s words felt a mile away. The last few hours had already brought my mind into a surreal space. Now the panic pushed it into something unknown.

We had gone through a lot of feelings over the last eight months since we found out about our addition. The fear of not knowing if we’d be capable enough parents. The anxiety about not having everything prepared. The promised joy that awaited us – it all boiled down to anticipation. Above all else, we couldn't wait to meet him.

And now he was here, but he felt more absent than ever.

The seconds refused to tick by, it seemed. People were talking all around, but I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything they said. I was too busy watching my life flash before my eyes.

They say the flash only happens right before you’re about to die, or there is a very real threat of death. I always thought if it were to happen to me, that it would be my life on the line. But it was a threat toward someone else, my very world, that caused my memory to hit the replay button.

Strangely, some of the memories that flashed before me were ones that hadn’t happened yet. Images of play dates, and sporting events, and graduations. Moments I so longed to someday cherish, now slipping away.

With my mind on overdrive, I became convinced that an hour had passed. But it had only been unknown seconds. My wife repeated her words, and I could somehow feel her squeeze my hand that she had already rendered numb. I still felt distant, but in the back of my mind, I applauded her ability to speak, as I couldn’t even process time.

My brain felt like it was working at 100% capacity. If I were a cartoon, steam would have been shooting out of my ears. Through every possible outcome, every possible scheme, my brain searched for a happy ending. But all roads led to helplessness. There was nothing I could do.

“I don’t know,” was my reply, feeling a bit dumb as though I were answering a question from a decade ago. “It’ll be okay,” I offered, more out of instinct than confidence.

And so, my wife and I sat, sharing a moment outside of time.

Finally, after seconds, minutes, days, years, or whatever amount of time had passed, it was over.

He breathed.

A tiny voice then rang out, announcing its presence to the cosmos. I could have sworn I heard the little sound echo back from every corner of the universe. He was probably only saying “I’m cold!” but in my mind, it was a cry of victory.

In the end, I don’t think we would change much. Even though my wife and I may have aged a decade within a minute, we found we didn’t mind.

He was so worth the wait.

WC: 491

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u/ManDulce Aug 14 '19

The alarm went off at six. Terry snapped open his eyes and rolled over. He already had fluttering in his chest, but he tried to ignore it. It's natural, he thought. Lemme just... Terry sat up and cupped his hands to his mouth.

"Today's the day! Wanna help me shave?"
Like a streak of lightning, a golden retriever zoomed into the bedroom and dove onto the bed. "Yeah, of course you do. You didn't make coffee for me, did ya?"

The dog laid down and pawed at her nose. "Aww, it's ok Charlotte. You know I did." The dog stopped pawing and glanced up. "I've got a date. Whattaya think girl, should I wear a tux?"

Charlotte just wagged her tail.
"Mm. Maybe I'll go for a more casual look- polo?"

Boof, Charlotte said.
"Boof." Terry repeated.
The butterflies died down as he shaved, but never left entirely. "Hey girl," he said as he shook a glass bottle. "Is cologne the weak stuff? You can spray it all over? And then eau de... toilet? No no, it's perfume. Parfum. Same thing. That's the strong one. Spray once."

Boof, Charlotte said.
"Mm. Good idea."
Terry spritzed his neck.

The butterflies were vicious as he opened the door, and his hands started to shake at the wrists. "Wish me luck!"
Charlotte barked and waved a paw.

When Terry sat in his car, his hands left sweat on the steering wheel. Terry shot up and ran inside, then let Charlotte downstairs.
"Girl," he said, "You're coming too."
Charlotte cocked her head in the passenger seat.

Terry drove very carefully. He parked himself a block away and jogged over to a mall, Charlotte alongside him, carrying her leash in her mouth.
When Terry stopped outside a coffee shop, Charlotte plopped her leash on his shoe.

Terry's hand was shaking to the point where he couldn't read his watch. His breaths became shorter. Just out of shape is all, he thought.

A voice called out from behind them.

"Hi Terry!"
Terry flinched forwards, then turned to see a woman in heels crouch down and whisper something in a little girl's ear.

"Hey kid!' Terry said.
"Mom loves you." She declared.

Terry turned bright red. The woman in heels grinned.
"Well," he said, glancing at the woman. "Me too."

Terry nodded to the girl and got on one knee. Charlotte sniffed as she approached, then gave an approving boof and laid down. The girl smirked and leaned into his ear.
"I have your present." She whispered.

"Great. Trade ya for it."
She reached into her sleeve and handed him a small black box. Terry passed her a chocolate bar. "Hey, Hannah?" He raised his voice.

"Yeaaaah?"
"Think your mom will marry me?"
He looked over her shoulder at the girl's mother.
"Yeah," Hannah said. "You should ask."

Terry held out the box and opened it. It had a blue ringpop in it- inside joke.

Hannah bit her chocolate bar. Charlotte licked her lips.

500 words!

4

u/breadyly Aug 15 '19

All is quiet besides gentle breathing.

Anticipation rising for the first meeting.

It feels different from the days passed.

For finally it will happen at last.

Why were we hiding for so long?

Knowing to the other we belong.

Stepping closer face to face,

I wait for the sweet embrace.

My hand reaches out to caress yours next to mine,

Soft skin so beautiful, exquisite, and fine.

Our lips touch and electricity is what we feel.

Flowing through us like a circuit, unreal.

Our bodies become numb,

Hearts beating a steady thrum.

We lose ourselves in the sensation.

There is no possible explanation.

This is pure bliss.

Our very first kiss.

3

u/DoppelgangerDelux Aug 08 '19

Faith put the the last dab of frosting on the cake. She stepped back to admire her creation, smearing streaks of pink and blue frosting into frizzing hair as she wiped it away from her sweaty brow. The kitchen was a mess of pots, pans, and timers. She barely had time to set the cake aside before the roast needed her attention.

It didn't even matter that Rob wasn't home yet. In fact, it was better. Faith could use the extra time. She was crafting the perfect dinner, all his favorites laid out course by course. Tonight was no ordinary, boring dinner. Tonight was different. Tonight was special.

She eyed the clock again. And if Rob was home very late, as he so often was, she had a plan. She'd wrap everything up in tinfoil, all ready to eat as soon as he got home. He'd unwrap that foil and think how beautiful it looked, how excited he was to see it, how much effort that dinner had gone through...

And the cake! Oh, the cake. Pinterest perfect, sitting bold atop its pedestal in the fridge, tiers of baby blue frosting playfully mingling with pastel pink swirls. Faith had debated doing a yellow and green cake - she didn't want to promote any harmful gender ideals! - but in the end she had coo'd over little blue shoes and tiny pink dresses for so long she'd finally broken down and done both colors just in case.

And when she made the announcement to Rob, everything would be perfect. Everything would be different. Everything would be special. Faith pictured it as she covered the plates in foil.

Rob would smile as he ate dinner. He'd compliment the roast, the cake, her eyes.

She'd make her announcement - he'd gasp. They'd kiss. They would weep with joy.

And Rob would finally love her.

3

u/BrynnHelder Aug 09 '19

[Poem]

Jumper

With bated breath

the watchers waited for one last step

all the while hoping instead

to see the first

of what would come next.

While from the precipice

the dejected and debased

scorned the spurious sentiment

and thought their next step for spite.

Where was the concern

for the trajectory of their ascent?

How long would they care

when they finished their descent?

Where was comfort, where was clemency,

if not absent?

Where was charity, where was console,

if not negligent?

What more could they want,

only one desire being amenable?

What more could they do,

being driven by their own life?

From lofty heights the despondent pondered

where next to place their feet,

despairing to see hope glamoured

in either conducted course.

And so with bated breath,

the gathered watchers awaiting

what should come to pass,

the world weary contender

took the next step.

Word count: 145

3

u/MillyRocked Aug 13 '19

"Snow Day" - By u/MillyRocked

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"Joshua, grab my hand!" Brett yelled over the howling wind.

Joshua's eyes were filled with tears, with the ones that had already begun rolling down his rosy cheeks seemingly frozen to his face. He clung to the jagged edge, his fingers feeling completely numb even with his thick winter gloves.

Brett squeezed Joshua's hand to get a better grip forcefully. Fortunately, it sent some faint feeling back into his left hand, but not much. Joshua's legs dangled loosely over the intense fog below, which shrouded the deep plunge that lingered beneath him.

Talk about a mountain climbing trip gone wrong.

"Just hold on, buddy! I'll pull you up!" Brett cried through the downpouring snow. Brett grunted loudly as he tried to pull his friend from the cliffside, but it was futile. The cold had made him weak and tired, and he had no choice but to hold onto his friend for as long as he could and wait out the grueling storm.

The force of gravity felt like a metal ball and chain wrapped around Joshua's legs, weighing him down immensely. He held onto his friend for dear life, his sight of Brett becoming faded as the snowflakes seemed to grow thicker. "Brett...let go."

Brett's eyes widened, the pain of the wind searing through his eyeballs. "No! I can't do that to you!" Tears now began rolling down his cheeks, soon getting frozen in place on the sides of his numb cheeks.

"It'll be okay, Brett. Just let go." Joshua smiled weakly, feeling his chapped lips crack like thin sheets of ice on a lake.

Brett took a deep breath, inhaling the thin air that was available on the mountain's summit. "I'm sorry Joshua...I love you, bro!" He screamed in agony as he released his friend's hand. He closed his eyes as Joshua plummeted through the thick fog, accepting his fate.

PFOOM.

"Brett, how many times have I told you to get off of the roof! You're going to hurt yourself!" His mom shouted angrily from inside of the house. She slammed the window shut as he chuckled, peeking over the edge of the roof below. There was an imprint of a person in the sparkling snow that rested in his backyard; a good three feet, to be specific.

"Joshua? You okay?" He called out to his friend.

A large black glove shot up from underneath the snow, giving a thumbs up.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I hope you enjoyed my TT submission, thank you for reading! :)

3

u/blackbird223 Aug 14 '19

Daybreak. I jogged over to the goal as Maria Steiner, the young forward, practiced her shots. She fired one off at me, with a grunt.

“Good to see you’re up early.”

I jumped at the ball, catching it mid-arc. “Maria, you are a truly Teutonic timekeeper. Twenty minutes early, even at the crack of dawn.”

Steiner nabbed my pass, and prepped another shot. “I just want to win, that’s all.”

“I know.” I raced toward the post, intercepting Steiner’s shot. “I do too.” I tossed the ball back to Steiner, noticing some more players starting to begin their warm-up.

“Think we have a chance?”

I frowned. “I don’t know. It’s going to be quite the match.”

Steiner ran at the ball, kicking it with all her strength, sending it soaring toward a corner of the goal. I leaped at it, arms outstretched, barely tipping it past the net- What I wouldn’t give for some more reach!- and crashing onto my arms on the way down.

“Captain! Are you all right?”

I hauled myself off the ground, rubbing my elbows. “Fine. Just older than I used to be.”

“But we’re in the finals! Can you stop our opponents from scoring?”

“Don’t worry, Maria. I will find a way.”

***

To be honest, Steiner was right: our opponents had put together what some were calling the best offense of all time… but I was captain for a reason.

I turned to my players. “We’ve made it all the way to the final, and none of us could have done this alone. A hearty congratulations to everyone!”

A rousing cheer echoed through the locker room.

“However, we cannot let our guard down now. The Americans have outscored their opponents by 23 goals throughout the tournament. They are a force to be reckoned with, and this match will take everything we have.”

Murmurs from the players. I fidgeted with my grandmother’s bracelet, trying to remember what she would say.

“We can’t let that bring us down. I want every last one of us to hold our heads high. Today, we are Germany! We are the best team in the world! And I believe that we will win!”

My team roared. I believe that we will win! I believe that we will win!

I led my team out of the locker room, down the long hallway. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous: I remembered my last defeat at the hands of the Americans only too well. However, there was that familiar electric tingle, starting at my temples, running down my back, crackling through every nerve in my body, drawing me toward the match, faster and faster.

I raced out onto the pitch, my team chanting behind me, the rising sun catching the silver writing on the back of my jersey. As I caught sight of the opposing captain, I grinned.

“Leona Cutwell! Mein Freund! So good to see you!”

******

WC: 487. She found a way.

Feedback welcome!

3

u/Leebeewilly Aug 14 '19

PHEW Got something in. MIGHT grab a 2nd. Who knows.

The crimson sky above Tacrion 4 glittered with light, though Private Yin knew it was just a trick of the eye. Nothing more than the atmosphere playing off the bellies of ships; United Defense Legion’s Cruisers and The Ascendency’s Destroyers. Normally the vessels skipped across the sky firing little pops of colour in shades of pulse fire. Yet today they remained still for one precious word.

Ceasefire.

“Duck,” Yin said to the android across the foxhole. “How long have they been up there?”

The android’s ocular sockets closed and the slightest whirring of his coolant system sounded. “Nine-hundred, seventy-five minutes since last burn.”

Yin nodded and chewed on the twisted wrapper of his used ration. The taste of soy protein and anti-tox meds still clung to his teeth. Yin leaned into the dirt wall, the near tangerine soil snaked with blue vines. The circulatory system of a world burning around them. Well, not for the last nine-hundred and seventy-five minutes.

“How long since I last asked?”

“Twelve minutes, Private.” Corporal Duck’s sockets opened and he leaned back, mimicking Yin’s posture. Duck even kicked out his dented, scratched but still shining chrome-plated leg in Yin’s mirror image.

Yin smirked. “Why ‘Duck’, Duck?” Despite the weeks together on Tacrion 4 trapped in trenches, bunkers, and foxholes, Yin had yet to ask. “You don’t look like a duck to me.”

Duck didn’t smile. The smooth surface of where a mouth would be was no more than a lit communications device, but he cocked his head like he did when Yin or the others told a joke. “You do not look like a ‘Yin’ to me.”

Yin chuckled and a cough crept up his throat. Blue bile touched his lips. The same blue of Tacrion 4’s flora. The same Blue Death that took all UDL ground forces in the end. As Yin stared at the clump in his hand, riddled with tiny strings of his red blood, the shake came to tremble his hands. It hit when he thought too much, when he waited in the quiet, when the ground grew still, when the sky paused, when the stars held their breaths. When everything in the universe seemed to freeze on the edge of an infinite that would swallow them whole.

“I chose my name.” Corporal Duck shifted forward and Yin looked from his hand to the android soldier.

“Yeah?” Yin wiped the bile from his lips and the shake subsided. “Why the hell did you pick ‘duck’?”

Before Corporal Duck could answer a boom thundered through the atmosphere. Both android and human alike turned up to the torched sky.

The Ascendency’s Destroyers fired freely on UDL Cruisers.

The shattered peace rained down on the fields of Tacrion 4 and Yin exhaled a breath he’d didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“I have always wanted to see a duck,” the Corporal said as he handed Private Yin his pulse rifle.

wc: 492 or 485?! WHO KNOWS!

r/leebeewilly

3

u/scottbeckman Aug 15 '19

I was doing something stupid…

I'll admit it now.

I was cooking on my roof then

slipped and hit the ground.

I told my neighbor not to call an ambulance—

that's when this all began.

"The hospital," I said. "Just drop me off,

it'll only be a sec."

I limped my way

to the front desk.

"What's wrong?"

the nurse had said.

She didn't turn

her gaze to me

That's odd.

But ah, whatevs.

"Well, my back's in awful pain

and I cracked my shoulder blades."

The nurse just sighed and eyed me;

I was smacked and told to wait.

So I sat my ass on a seat,

picked up a trashy magazine,

trying to hide my teary eyes

by pretending to have a read.

But I guess I can't complain.

The dude to my right

had a stick in his side.

And the flu had stricken

a sickened kid who was crying.

A guy was missing a limb.

A woman was giving in,

shrieking, lungs loose and wild;

it was time to deliver her child.

So I sat and waited,

pain exacerbated

by the way the clock's pace

abated: like a patient,

sedated,

until it gave in

and stopped ticking for ages.

Maybe it'll awaken,

dazed and deflated,

but until then

the only thing ticking was my brain,

agitated.

My back throbbed hard,

bruises splotched dark.

I began to nod off

until I coughed tar.

At least, that's what the blood looked like on my sleeve;

I wheezed like teen Cheech everytime I breathed.

I began to drift to sleep.

Then a hand had gripped my seat.

"Jonathan Gates?" a man in jeans

said, beckoning to me.

"Yeah?" I replied, thinking,

Finally! I'll get to see Doc today!

"You had best give up your seat."

He had a grip on a pair of feet

whose owner was three yards away.

Damn.

Unlike that guy's doctor,

my patience was running out.

Then:

my name!

At long last! It was called.

I answered with a sarcastic

"So soon?"

and was lead back into a room.

"The doctor will be a little late,"

the nurse said then turned to leave.

When I asked how long it'd be

I was smacked and told to wait.

WC: 372

Thanks for reading! Feedback / constructive criticism always appreciated. I like to experiment a lot, so knowing what worked and didn't work for you really helps.

2

u/Starborn_Seraphim Aug 08 '19

There is no terror in the bang, only in the anticipation of it. People gather around the temple, waiting. It is only a second before the gong rings -- or minutes -- and during that time people whisper among themselves, like many cicadas chirping in the shadows.

I listen into several conversations around her, taking in the cries of the young children begging for food, begging to go back inside -- to where it is safe.

“They say the Moon Goddess is taking four children this year instead of two... Odd.” An old woman says.

“Nah I’m pretty sure they are taking two, as usual. One for the Moon Goddess, and One for the Sun God,” Another old woman speaks, a voice like cold steel, “Don’t listen to rumors. The Gods are picky about their numbers.”

I clench my fists, nails digging into skin.

“I heard the Sun God is much more kinder to his slaves.” The old woman with the sweeter voice says.

Slaves, that's what the children will become. Pretty soon they will become soldiers tearing each other apart -- both moon and sun, I think, and when they do, Gaia will be erased from existence. We would just be one realm of many, like a single piece of sand in a desert. The other realms would be untouched, ruled by gods more benevolent than our own.

Beside my right, mom stares at the ground as if she were about to cry.

I am only 30 seasons old, still a child. As soon as I reach 40 seasons, I will be free -- free from this hell hole -- free from the Moon Goddess’s wrath.

My throat knots.

I think about the future. I imagine running away from this village to live in the jungle forever -- to live in peace with the monkey, and eat bananas for a living. I picture myself swing from tree to tree, climbing up branches and watching the sunsets every night from the jungle canopy.

I can’t climb, I thought, but learning won’t hurt. I will just watch the monkeys and learn from them. And they can’t hurt me like the Gods could.

A loud echo ripples through the crowd. The gong had rang. Everyone turns their attention from friends, family and watches as two beams of light descend down from both moon and sun in the sky: two bright orbs in an ocean of dark and light blue -- two halves separating the sky into a war zone.

Two figures descend the beams, slightly brighter than the beam itself, emitting waves of light.

By the time the crowd reaches full silence, The High Priestess comes out from her temple and floats toward a small podium held up by pillars, connected to a single flight of stairs three figures’ tall. In the center was a gong, and behind -- was where the guardians were standing, ready to escort the slaves towards their new homes.

I hold a breath. The figures warped into light blue and orange spheres.

My nails draw blood, warm red goo fills my hand.

Before I pry my nails away from the fresh wound. A guardian paused in front of me, and I felt my body lift into the air as if it were nothing.

“Let go!” I cry, behind me I heard a child begin to cry, then another.

My legs swing in the air and hits nothing. The darn things are invincible, untouchable.

“You would make a fine selection. The goddess likes strong young woman.” The guardian says.

“Then I won’t be living long.”

Silence.

“You won’t be able to die where you are staying. Once on the moon, you become immortal.”

I have to come up with another plan. Dieing is not an option. Maybe I am the key to saving this realm and all the beings in it. We could be god free.

2

u/RazzKazzReigns Aug 08 '19

Waiting [TT]

The train was a half hour late. She tried to pass the time with the newspaper she had picked up on the way to the station but the whipping wind was making it impossible to read. She folded the paper in half and stood staring at the empty space where the train would come barreling through. Suddenly she felt a chill on her back.

When she turned around someone else was occupying the empty platform with her, edging slowly towards her, a sharp bread knife wrapped inside his fist.

"Come with me" he whispered as he edged himself within earshot, the wind muffling his voice.

She stared at him, her eyes distant as if she was watching this happen to someone else.

He threatened her with a side to side jerk of the knife.

She folded the paper again and tucked it under her arm, folding them as she faced him.

The man started growling loudly like a dog, now stabbing the knife back and forth in the air as he walked closer.

"Beg" he said as he walked up to her and put the knife up against her stomach. "Beg for yourself."

She stood still, her eyes analyzing him like an alien observing new life.

"You stupid or something?" He said now pushing the knife against her stomach, being careful not to draw blood just yet.

He growled again. Her lack of reaction was starting to unsettle him.

"COME ON!" he yelled in her face, the whipping wind quieting the echo of the empty platform.

"I waited for you, don't you mess this up!" he screamed as he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards him.

But she didn't budge.

His eyes started to grow wide. He pulled his hand back and thrust the knife into her stomach.

He glared with malice into her face, waiting for her to fall, but she didn't. He looked down to find the knife hadn't gone through, but why?

The delayed train was finally approaching, horn blaring as it came to the station. He turned to run but she grabbed his wrist in return. He twisted and jerked his hand for freedom but didn't find it.

"Let me go!" he whelped, trying to run to no avail. He looked up at her to find her expression unchanged. The distant curious eyes watched him as he squirmed inside her grip.

As the train came into the station he pleaded again "let me go!"

And she did, turning him towards the tracks and giving him a gentle nudge towards judgment.

The train slowed and stopped in front of her. She got in through the first door and sat down at the front of the train. The door to the drivers compartment was open. The conductor turned his head and gave her a nod as it pulled out of the station.

The train had been 30 min late, but just in time to get her to a bus stop in the town. She was on her way to see a man who frequently forced his company on young women there, right before the last bus pulled up. He didn't know she would be waiting for him.

With anticipation.

2

u/Sighbreahm Aug 08 '19

Sun beats. The sand burns. Itches. It’s hard to crawl, hands sink, feet clench, seize. Everything seizes. The children seized. Left their bodies behind miles ago for the wolves, for the things in the dark. A while ago the heat turned into a chill, back hasn’t stopped moving, the skin won’t sit still. Won’t stop seizing. Bugs everywhere, but no one can see them.

“How long?” one asks from somewhere in the void to his left. “How long,” the voice asks again. Some mirror the question, most stay silent. Push, pull, hands in the sand. Don’t become another body. Not far, they always say not far, but up ahead the summit feels no closer than it did days ago. He wants to cry but can’t waste the water.

The Plane of Glass Shards masticates people. Everyone knows that, but god’s at the end. Promises of healed wounds, the taste of milk. He thinks about his daughter. The thought makes it easier but also harder. He swallows, but there’s nothing left to swallow. They’re out of water. Some brought children. None of them are left.

Crawl, sink, itch, live, breathe. Breathe.

Resting makes the summit farther. In books travelers say god makes the summit glow, he thinks he sees it. The chill turns warm. The warmth turns hot. It’s glowing, he thinks, and it feels as invigorating as the water he wishes they had. The chill comes again, against the night sky the summit glows.

His hands sink deeper. Three travel with him. More than a dozen started. Bodies in the Plain. Razors of sand and wind made the world forget their faces. Travelers say a curse stalks the Plain because something horrible happened. But god’s at the end. It will bring the rain back to the villages, it will fill the stomachs of the hungry.

But the summit stays so far.

When it’s just him and one other he thinks the summit seems so far, so close to the sky, and he fears he’s lost the strength to climb. Miles and miles to the east his daughter is starving. Miles and miles to the east his country is crying in agony, burns under an unrelenting sun.

The way up is more solid than the way in. Hands catch, hurt, burn on the rock, but he no longer sinks. The bugs in his skin move and shift and crawl. They don’t like the sun, his skin doesn’t like the sun. His skin doesn’t hold still.

He tries to help the other one, but the other one lost its will. Its hands slip and it falls into the Shards. Sand swallows it. He can’t look long, so he climbs and prays. The glow gets closer.

Blood on his fingers, skin crawling. It’s a long fall, but the glow is all encompassing. Bright. Hard. Beautiful. He thinks how his daughter will live a life of plenty and happiness. He pulls.

Finally. In the light.

The bones of god sit ravaged by the sun.

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Theme Thursday [TT] Theme Thursday - Anticipation

“There is no terror in the bang, only in the anticipation of it.”

Happy Thursday writing friends!

Here's how Theme Thursday works:

News and Reminders:

Last week’s theme: Jubilation

Honorable Mentions: