Saturday, July 26, 2014

Quills and Frills-7/26/2014 Writing Prompt

This month's writing prompt required us to put our iPod's on shuffle and take the first line from the first song we heard and use it as the first line of a story.  The results are interesting.





Chloe says:


Toxic Zombie Apocalypse
by Chloe Drehmer


        They’re all on the road again, those dirty, mangy creatures.  For two days now, there has been this….. large disease which started out as a cure for cancer. Of course, it started out in a small lab two years ago by the famous scientists who were known as Dr. Jones-Parker and Dr. Petee. They tried over and over again to create the right serum to cure cancer and they were finally successful on October 31st 2032 (3 days ago).              All was great for the first day since 98% of the USA’s population had cancer, so they all raced for the antidote. Those people were cured at last!... or so everyone had thought.
         The next day, the cancer-“treated” patients were literally toxic! Acid fumbling out of their mouths, rotten flesh (if any at all!), and all they did was infect people, throw up acid, moan and groan or loose a few limbs at a time….. or separately..… whatever was the case.  Yes, these dirty things are Toxic Zombies a.k.a. TZs. My name is Adolse, I’m only 14 and I am willing to die soon in my free time. I am one of the youngest of the 500 or so survivors left who has a crappy shelter, no weapons, no food, and no water, and no freaking allies!
         This first day was very bad and very sad. First off, my whole family had cancer except for me, so I had no help from family. The people who weren’t infected probably ran into the woods to never be seen ever again (still, no allies). My only “ally” was this shelter….. at least for the moment it was.  I tried to sleep which I surprisingly did and then the first night ended…..
         Now it was time for the 2nd night, and it was okay. I was thirsty and hungry and just then had I realized that I was sharing my roof with a TZ. I tried to get up slowly but it saw me and (like all TZs) it tried to spew acid on me. It was quick but I was quicker (thank god for the track team who were all probably TZs by now!), and I got away safely and ran for the woods!  I quickly climbed a tree to find that I ran 1.36782157 miles to the apple tree farm, so I set up shop then fell asleep.
         Today was my 5,475th and final day and sadly, it was also my birthday, but I just couldn’t take living in this dangerous world, running away from fate (which was telling me to die, sadly). I don’t know why I jumped the cliff ledge (other than that main reason), but it happened. What I’m trying to say is, don’t end up like the other people and if there ever is a Toxic Zombie Apocalypse, just kick the bucket, it’s not worth living after that happens. Be safe.



                                        A HMN From - Adolse


Aleathia says:

Crème Filled Doughnuts
by Aleathia Drehmer

“Number ONE in acquisitions!” Brent screamed at the top of his lungs, “Let’s see you assholes take that away from me.  Come on! Come at me with your best shot!”

Brent stood on the ledge of a Wall Street high rise wild eyed and sweating.  Small bubbles of white spittle clung to the corners of his mouth as he raged.  He HAD been number one in acquisitions for his company and his heady nature caused him to gamble one too many times.  In his recklessness, he had lost everything for his clients.  He was a laughing stock on the trading floor.  He knew he could never face his wife again let alone his parents whom he had taken responsibility of care.  They all depended on him and he let them down.

His hands were shaking as he held the cool marble edges of the building.  He couldn’t stop yelling into the spring air, unsure if anyone could hear him…unsure if anyone even cared.  He was now stalling what he had started no completely convinced he wanted to jump.

To his right, Brent heard an office window open.  He couldn’t see who was there, but started screaming he was “number one” even louder.  He looked more closely and saw a woman leaning halfway out of the window.  She was plain.  He would have never noticed her in passing.  Her hair was pulled back to the nape of her neck in a severe bun so that her fleshy neck looked as if it had a tumor growing from it.  He noticed how her ample waist spread out on the sill like a comfortable blanket wrapped in a polka dotted candy wrapper.  Seeing her there caused Brent to stop screaming.

Paranoid, he thought the woman was with the police and started to inch further to the left.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you…doesn’t look like you have much ledge left,” the woman said.

“I don’t care what you think you fucking pig!”

“Hey man, just cause I’m fat doesn’t give you the right to call me a pig.  I have feelings too you know!”

“Well….aren’t you with the police?” Brent questioned.

“No you dumbass, I’m not.  I work in this office and all this damn yelling is really making it hard to concentrate.”

“I should just fucking jump then is that what you’re saying?  You want me to jump?” he said with heated passion.

“Man, it doesn’t matter what I want or what I think.  I just opened the window to see what all this “number one” bullshit was about.  Seriously—does it matter that much?  Being number one?”

Brent stood there quiet, his body starting to slacken.  Did this woman have a point?  What was he throwing his life away for, because he failed?  Brent wasn’t sure anymore.  It all felt like a horrible dream.

He was startled by the shrillness of the woman’s voice.  “Hey…dude…I’m gonna leave the window open for you.  Just stop screaming, ok?  I just can’t take it anymore.  If you jump, that legacy is on you.  If you don’t, you can come in, I’ve got doughnuts.  Crème filled and everything.”

“What’s your name?” he said.

“Janet.”

“I’m Brent.”

“Good to meet you.  Ok, I’m gonna get my work done now.  Have a nice day.”

She put her heavy body back through the window and Brent suddenly felt alone and very near the reality of his situation.  It wasn’t a great time to remember he was afraid of heights.  He inched along the ledge carefully and only let out his breath when he felt the lip of the sill under his dress shoes.  He eased a leg back through the window, balanced there awkwardly he imagined, and moved the rest of his body through.  He let out a heaving sigh.  He turned and there was Janet standing in her polka dot dress.  Her face was full of Boston Crème doughnut, the chocolate smeared over her upper lip, smiling.  She picked up the box and extended it out towards him.

Brent reached out and took the lemon filled jelly doughnut.  He bit into it with gusto.  The powdered sugar sprinkled down on his black suit.  He smiled with her ready to not be number one.




Teeth Meet Nail
by Ally Malinenko

“Call my name.”
“What?” I say, sleepy into the phone. I fumble for the clock on the nightstand.
3:11
Jesus Christ.
“What?” I say again.
“Call my name.”
“Danielle….It’s late.”
There is nothing but silence on the other end.
My throat is foggy and I cough to clear it. “Danielle.”
“Call my name.”
“Go to sleep.”
“You won’t play?”
Her voice is light, soft. I can picture her face, her long dark hair. The way it used to fan over my pillow, over my own face at night.
I used to sleep soundly, buried in that hair, like a bird in a nest. Then, something changed. And it started to choke me, twisting its way into my mouth.
Suffocating.
“Danielle…”
“Do it.”
I sigh.
“Call my name,” she says again, sing-songy, letting the words just hang there.
“Ninety to nothing—”
“Watch me run,” she says before I can.
“I have to go now.”
“No,” she says. I hear that tears quiver inside her. It makes me wonder about the last time I went to the ocean.
“Is he there?” she asks.
“No.”
Her indignation is put on. It’s Cherry-Coke flavored.
“He’s on call tonight.”
“Sure…..ugly girls know their fates.”
“Are you finished? I want to go back to sleep.” This is, of course a lie. There is no way I’m going back to sleep.
“Wait….”
“What?”
“Just wait…” I hear a click and know that it’s the sound of her placing her fingernail between her incisors and biting down. When she fishes the loose nail from her tongue, because Danielle doesn’t spit, heavens no, anything but that, her words are momentarily garbled. “You missed a good show tonight.”
“I’m sure I did.”
“You did.” She says this with conviction as if to remind me that I’m missing out on a lot of good shows these days. I stretch and scratch my stomach.
“Big house?”
“Yeah. Martin says he wants to add another performance.”
“Good.”
“Good?” Her voice rises at the end and I hear another click as teeth meet nail.
“Yeah, good for you.”
“Ah,” she says exhaling. “Good for me.” Then after a pause, “I’m assuming you know about Layla.”
“I heard.”
“Are you coming to the service?”
“Probably…I don’t know.”
“You’re not going to go? I think you should go.”
“I’ll think about it.” I roll over, my back sore. The bed feels hot. I lay a hand across the empty mattress and wonder what Paul’s night is like. Has he saved any lives? Has he dipped those hands into the blood of another human? Why would anyone want to be a doctor? I asked him that when we first met. He laughed, taken aback by my question and in his surprise his eyes lit up. That was the first time I had seen him like that. Do you want to save lives? I asked him. Are you doing God’s work? He cocked an eyebrow at the mention of a deity. Jon, he said to me, I’m undoing God’s work. God made disease and death. Decay. Rot. I preserve. I fight to keep life. I’m a most unholy crusader.
He reached across the table of that posh restaurant – more expensive than I could ever have afforded and brushed his fingers over the skin of my hand, so lightly like it was only the thought of physical touch.
And, he asked, what about you? Why do you act? Because you want to know every life you could have lived? Or because you’re afraid of this one?
“Layla was your friend,” Danielle whispers through the phone. “You can’t abandon all of us.”
I can hear that she’s crying. She probably knows that I know this and expects me to comment.
“I’m going to go. It’s just… you know…. I hate funerals. They’re so depressing.”
“No time for the dead in that fancy new life.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Don’t bring him.”
“Danielle…”
“I’m serious. I hate the way he looks at us. Like we’re vagabonds. Druggies. Freaks. Like he wouldn’t lay his doctoring hands upon us. Don’t do that after we lost our Layla.”
“Stop it.”
“It’s true.”
“You don’t know him.”
            “I don’t need to. His name is Paul. That’s all I need to know.”
“What does that mean?”
            “It means ‘small.’ Small Paul. Is that what he is?”
“Goodbye Danielle.” I pull the phone away from my ear and I can hear her calling my name. Jon, wait. Jon, wait…I’m sorry. Her voice is tiny and airy like an evil pixie. I bring it back to my ear and I hear her whispering, “Please don’t hang up. Come on Jon, don’t hang up on me.”
“I’m tired,” I say. “I want to go back to sleep.”
“What time is Prince Charming back?”
“Usually around 7 or 8 in the morning. He goes right to bed then.” I think about Paul climbing into bed next to me. How he will fit his body against mine. How the smell coming off him will be the hard soap from the hospital. Clean. Bleached. Raw but still Strong. Behind that will be the faint sterile scent of the rubber gloves he pulls on and off each day. The powder he uses to keep away irritation. He will snore. His arm, over my waist will be heavy with the weight of a night spent pulling the dead back from the brink.
Pulling and succeeding. Pulling and failing.
“I knew you would come out. I’m not stupid. I knew it…us….we wouldn’t last… I just didn’t expect it to be with a straight.”
“Danielle…”
“You know what I mean.”
I count ten seconds. I’m about to tell her I have to go but she beats me to it.
“Anyway, I have to run.” She’s light and breezy as if it was the middle of the day and we were normal still.
“Okay.” I give her this. She needs it and I understand that.
“Call me later.”
I nod and then remember she can’t see me and instead say, “Sure.”
“Call my name….” she sings it. High and light. She has a beautiful voice. For a moment it melts inside me and I sink into the mattress. Suddenly all I want is for Danielle to sing to me. I think of her pressed against me. How light her arm always was around my waist. “Call my name….here I come. Your last ditch lay, will I never learn…”
She laughs at the end. “Ciao, darling.”

I listen to the dial tone before I drift off.


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