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I had a good feeling with my story until I read Fumblemouse's submission. So outclassed.
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Aug 6, 2013 05:02
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I'm in motherfuckers.
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Aug 6, 2013 14:14
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sebmojo posted:The judges are publicly agonising over whether they should do them or not. Eventually they'll do them when it's too late. I can't work under these conditions! 
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Aug 7, 2013 04:07
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I was elated when I saw you posting in that thread! Is that person a smuggler in the fourth edition? If so I could use a Thunderdome inspired avatar and title. Mercedes fucked around with this message at 00:58 on Aug 8, 2013 |
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Aug 8, 2013 00:47
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M. Propagandalf posted:I expect to incur the simultaneous wrath of both the story crafting and history gods.  FLASH RULE: Your protagonist is not well liked because s/he flaunts their intelligence.
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Aug 10, 2013 01:45
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I don't think I'll be able to finish this by tonight. Having a hard time focusing after I lost my job this weekend.
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Aug 11, 2013 23:25
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Proclaim This. 696 Words. Today, I'm going to die. I'm certain of it. Something happened to me today, like an omen of sorts. It's because of what I did when I was younger and she's come back for revenge. It happened decades ago, before I took office in the House of Representatives, yet I have not forgotten. She never allowed me to forget. Her face was deformed, with broken bones and multiple wounds. I saw that she recognized me. She was a slave girl I knew when I was growing up. There was a brief hope that I would step in and put a stop to the men that were despoiling her. I saw it on her face. “She was property.” they told me. That was the only justification I needed to commit my horrible act. I saw her hope drained from her face as I removed my coat. She died that night. As the years rolled by, I began to see her with more regularity. Her ghastly face, worn and lifeless, flickered over the faces of Negro women. I stopped, my heart would beat high in my throat as my panic immobilized me. She always disappeared as soon as I noticed her and left me confused and nervous. It has been worse as of late. I see her more and more. No longer constrained to the faces of women, she is now constantly at the periphery of my vision. There are these whispers that only occurred when there is no one to voice them. I strained to understand, but the more I focused, the quieter they became. I wished it were the stresses of being this country's leader during a time of civil war, because the alternative was that I had truly gone mad. This morning is the worst it has ever been. My meeting with General Grant had me in great distress. His voice came out of her mouth. I shut my eyes, yet behind my veil, she floated in the darkness. Grant's hand on my shoulder startled me back into reality. “Are you feeling alright, Abraham?” I almost yelled when I opened my eyes to the bottomless black pits that somehow stared at me. “It's nothing, really!” I said as I turned away. As I was driven home, every person I saw carried the woman's grotesque visage. I groaned in misery and I shrank back into my seat. The whispers started again – a cacophony of sinister voices accosted my senses like nails across a chalkboard. I mashed my palms uselessly against my ears. I don't know how much time passed, but the voices abruptly stopped. I heard my name being called out as if from a distance. When I opened my eyes, my wife's concerned face looked down at me. My body relaxed as my wife looked like my wife. “Mary...” I said, relieved. I sat in our living room and sipped a cup of tea. My wife's presence somehow acted as a ward against the woman who haunted me. I did not know how, nor did I question it. I welcomed the temporary peace. “Are you feeling up to watching the play tonight?” Mary asked. She brought her cup to her lips and blew on it. I pursed my lips. She had been looking forward to this play for weeks now, yet something about this situation filled me with dread. I needed to keep her close to me. It's been hours since I've last seen the tell tale sight of my grizzly demon and it's all because she's been nearby. I forced a convincing smile. “Of course.” The play itself was humorous. I didn't realize how much I needed this. I turned to my wife to say something and the ghastly visage was back. This didn't make sense! My head snapped back towards the play. All the actors looked like her. The whispers were back, louder than ever. I finally understood what they were saying. They said, “It's time for you to die.” A loud shot rang out. I felt an overwhelming pain in the back of my head – icy tendrils snaking its way through my brain, and then a merciful nothing.
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Aug 12, 2013 04:47
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Umbilical Lotus posted:Us judge-people are deliberating in our shadowed councils even now, but before the verdict comes out I want to state how impressed I am with everyone's works this week. You all presented an amount of thoughtfulness and subtlety that is, honestly, pretty surprising after the previous week's chromed booty. This week was delightful. So much so, that I will do some crits. Also, I have a lot of free time, but what are you gonna do? crabrock posted:Sweet Temptations You son of a bitch. You set the tone, and the tone was perfect. My head actually recoiled in disgust as I read about one of the characters squishing that liver between his toes while those little berry fuckers were all being yucky. I got tingles man. It's most likely the word limitation, but I hard a tough time feeling connected to any of the characters. It ends up not mattering anyways because the plot tension carries this story on it's shoulders. I would definitely love to read this if the word limitation was raised by a thousand or two. Grade: My rear end in a top hat puckered. Cervid posted:The Dutchman First off, what the gently caress is up with the editor's note? Stop that. Bad Cervid. Pulls me right out of the story and I don't appreciate it. There's also some weird poo poo going on with your quotation signs. Perhaps you didn't hit your enter key hard enough and weren't able to split the paragraph like you intended. I didn't get a sense of dread from the story, instead, I got questionable motives. Historically, sailors are a superstitious bunch. In your story, I get the idea that these guys know something strange is going on with that ship, yet they still choose to work on it. Grade: Dracula on a Vegan diet. docbeard posted:Debts Remove the word “try” as well as all its synonyms from your lexicon. Either make your character do, or describe how your character tried but failed. I think it lends to stronger prose. The same goes to words ending in -ly. You don't need them, most of the time. Drowning is a terrible way to go, holy poo poo. But I didn't get any sense of panic from the main character. Instead it felt as if both speaking characters were sitting down drinking tea having a lovely discussion. Your descriptions are telling me that the drowning character is afraid, but the dialogue is showing me different. Grade: ”Oh God. Somebody help. I'm drowning.” he said. CancerCakes posted:Chankiri Tree What the fuuuuuck! That ending man. That poo poo came out of nowhere, at least the first time I read it. I went back, perplexed, and then found all the subtleties. I can appreciate how if you paid attention to those fine details, you can see where the story is headed and you get that sense of dread as you slowly put the puzzle pieces together. I'm still confused as to why the protagonists friends told her to board that bus to murder city, or the purpose of the information given in the first few paragraphs. The writing itself is solid, so I'm sure I probably missed something. Fuckin' Africa. Grade: That boy's got a future in baseball. Jeza posted:Diary of Dr. Johann von Klintz, 3rd August, 1864 trans. Klaus Einhart Dat poo poo is nastay. Man, I was grossed out reading this. My one complaint is that story is only has the case of the yuckies. The first half of the story is the protagonist toking up with some fatty and the second part he witnesses a public execution. The story could have probably lost the first half and still would have gotten the same reaction from me. All it told me was that those tea-slurpin, queen-fuckers sure do love their violence. Also that fat man will eat anything. Man, now I have so many questions. Why the translator? Why the implied hatred from the fatty towards the German doctor? Why the gently caress is he tasting the dead dude? Is it just coincidence that the good doctor was chilling with a guy who knew a colleague of the doctor would be tortured to death the next morning? Grade: Give that fat man some cookies, Jesus. Helsing posted:Pharsalus The limit is 1200. If someone can hit the “1200 words exactly” prompt and still end up writing good story, you could have found a way to trim 62 words of fat. Also, we don't care diddly poo poo for your forewords. Drop your prose like it's hot and back the gently caress away. Also, welcome to Thunderdome. Your tenses slip a few times in the story. I always have an issue with them, so when I'm done with my first draft I do a search for -ing and change sentences so that they are no longer describing poo poo in present tense. The dialogue and descriptions are strong in this piece, but there's no real sense of dread or tension. Just two dudes who are loving around with a Ouija board, get told some information and that's it. The only 'despicable' thing they had to do was bring a corpse with them. Would have been cooler if Sextus had to kill the other guy he had with him, and the corpse was just a pretense to get him not suspect the awful truth. Grade: Weightlifter's Personality: Strong yet boring. Auraboks posted:A personal letter, ca 1930 Aw yea. Scholar's quest for knowledge brings madness and destruction. It's my kind of poo poo. I like how the format is in letter form, although it would have been interesting to see the transformation as it was happening. It would have given you more opportunities to inject an immediate sense of how the sickness overtook him. Now, does Ethel have the translations to the book with her? Is she also a scientist with a curious nature similar to the protagonist? What is this sickness? I only ask because it's not expressed how someone can bring about the silent apocalypse if the book kills them in a relatively short time. It's a good read, it just leaves a few things unanswered that weaken the story somewhat. Grade: This message will explode in t Erogenous Beef posted:Frozen Souls This is a sick nasty entry Erogenous Beef. It has the yuckies in there giving me tingly feelings as I read about all the ooze. The story had good tension with the little things that tug at you and give you an uneasy feeling that something isn't right. I'm not a hundred percent sure as to Baker's true intentions in how he was going to use his corpses, but I can tell it's up to no good for reals. I want to know more about the story. If the limit had a thousand more words as the limit there can be a ton of awesome poo poo done with this, I have no doubt. Also, did Baker just hide his eyes being a different color and have great control over his saliva glands until he gets violent or something? Cause he must have brought our protagonist out there while already under the influence of the ooze. Grade: Edgar Poe III Anathema Device posted:Ghost Moose The protagonist is such a level-headed cool guy. In similar circumstances I would have ran screaming like a little bitch. This guy stood by with gun cradled in his arms as this other dude was trampled by Zombie Moose and then pulled out his glock from his underpants, cocked that fucker sideways and put a cap in that whiny bitch. Although it was a good story, I felt it was more in the vein of an action horror, like Resident Evil than the other kind of horror you get from Silent Hill. Ain't nothing wrong with the former, I just like to get creeped the gently caress out when I read horror books. Grade: Zombie Headshot Kaishai posted:Indianapolis Aw, hell yea! Shark week mothafuckas. I need to point this out: “the man shrieked a note nearly soprano”. Against the rest of the story, this seems so cartoonish and out of place. I also had to reread the ending multiple times; the part when he turns into a shark? I think. Is he hallucinating? I don't know, he vomited red and then he went Hannibal on his rescuers. I think. It's really confusing. The rest of the story is great, rich with cool descriptions, but I feel like I'm missing something and it's going right over my head. Grade: Street Shark Nikaer Drekin posted:The Fireside Prayer The story's premise is pretty baller. The descriptor: “black eyes glitter like beetles”, really stuck with me. Something about hunters become the hunted by an unstoppable fire controlling monster. This could just be a stylistic choice, but you don't have to italicize when the main character is thinking to himself. I don't even think you have to specify the “he thought” bit. Just go right into it. The reader will usually understand that the character is thinking these thoughts. This might also be a stylistic choice, but whatever, I'm already on a roll. Name your main character so you're not always referring him as “young cop”, or the FBI guy as “the prick” or someone else “the kid” and the other cops “cops”. Grade: Ifrit mated with a Firebender and birthed this. Noah posted:The Wendigo This was a good read. High tension with some action in there. I was genuine in my silent cheers for the main character as she Splinter Celled her way out of the crap situations she found herself in. Even still, you manage to avoid writing a simple action story with her decline into cannibalism and her realizing she liked it. I'm not a judge, so what I say doesn't mean poo poo, but your story, along with crabrock and M. Propagandalf's are my top 3 stories. Grade: Samantha Fisher Accretionist posted:May your wishes be granted. Daaaaaaaaaaang I like it when people hit their flash rules right on the nose. Remind me to call you up when I go hunting for hobos. Unfortunately, there isn't much dread in this story because once the the beggar's demise is imminent, the story's already over. From what I've read, most of the story is just fluff that shows off that this beggar is all “heil hitler” and poo poo and then young strapping men in brown shirts kill him. The prose is good, a grammatical error here and there, it doesn't distract, it's just that the story not horror-y enough. Grade: The Lottery, but with hobos. Hobottery. Mercedes posted:Proclaim This. Kill yourself. Grade: Booth. From the show Bones. M. Propagandalf posted:Red and Black You magnificent bastard. You took my flash rule and ran with it, like scissors, and went off into the sunset. Not only do you show how his colleagues dislike him, you also use his love for books and history as his downfall. The story itself is solid. Horrific things happen that make me cringe. All throughout, you just have this feeling that things will not end well for anyone. Keep doing what you're doing. The line near the end when he and the commander start laughing and then he suddenly spits in his face is golden. Grade: Read a mothafuckin book Mercedes fucked around with this message at 00:02 on Aug 14, 2013 |
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Aug 13, 2013 21:01
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You know I'm in on this poo poo.
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Aug 14, 2013 02:33
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Is there anyone else in the process of writing crits for this last go around? I would love to know on what I can improve on.
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Aug 14, 2013 19:45
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sebmojo posted:Doing Mercedes out of order because he's a fuckin' trooper. Good luck with the jobhunt mate. Thanks sebmojo! Also, mother loving tenses Jesus Christ. Thanks for the crit!
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Aug 15, 2013 05:46
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So yea. I'm gonna have to pull out this week. I haven't written a word yet  I'll do another round of crits as penance. Mercedes fucked around with this message at 18:34 on Aug 18, 2013 |
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Aug 18, 2013 18:30
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I still feel like an rear end in a top hat for not writing this week.
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Aug 20, 2013 02:03
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M. Propagandalf posted:Holiday Break Overall, I like the story. The conversations are quick and tense. You missed an opportunity to make Mallory into some devious political power player. As it is now, she's just some opportunistic little bitch (we all know one) who thinks she can do a better job. The dialogue is well done, yet the political intrigue is not as strong. HaitianDivorce posted:Patience, AZ The first paragraph reads like a mess, HaitianDivorce. quote:"I hate this town," Mickey McKane said to everyone, all up and down the wide black boulevard of Patience, Arizona's main street, which was no one. Why couldn't you just say “said to no one.” or some variation there of? He skipped out of the shadow of the town hall, all decked up like Roman temple Show us how it was 'decked out like a Roman Temple', and spun around to face the Mayor's statue, seated in a throne ten feet tall. "And I can't wait to see you gone." It's fluff, and if you read it out loud, it's awkward as poo poo. I'm not that great with grammar myself, so I won't continue to crit in this style. But seriously, read your prose out loud. Going through the story, if I didn't reread and study your prose, I would have no loving clue what I was reading. Actually, let me take that back. I have no idea what the point of the story is. I'm so confused. CancerCakes posted:Let Rushing Dogs Lie The first of the many awesome tales of Alexei! I wished I would have locked myself in a room and just written something. Onwards to the crit! The descriptions of Alexei in comparison to the other councilors are hilarious and it often reminds me of myself, it also set a lighthearted tone to the tale and I can appreciate that. At a few points in the story, you lost me because I didn't know that Alexei was talking to someone else; I assumed that it was just a regular story told in first person. In the context of your flash rule, it kind of gets a pass. I'm not too familiar with an untrustworthy narrator style of story telling, so I won't go into it too much. Jeza posted:kind of racist kind of misogynist but you know, probably not such a bad guy really if you got to know him. actually wait When I first started to read your story, I pointed out the jumbled mess to my wife, claiming you lost your goddamn mind or something. Then I scrolled to the end and saw you had a stream of consciousness flash rule. Now I just with that people would post their flash rules at the top along with their title to make crits easier to do.  Just because people don't think with capitalized words and apostrophes, doesn't mean you have to write it down that way. Make it easier on your reader, drat son. The story is interesting, overall, just a pain in the rear end to read. Martello posted:The Dogs of Love and War Ooh, finally, some political backstabbery and true intrigue. I like how you described the crushing feeling of shyness Alexei has towards Lillian. I know many goons know what that feel like. Not me. I'm more like Rick. Moving on. When Rick is introduced, I felt that you overused the character names a bit too much in that one large paragraph. You could have split it into two paragraphs and made the prose neater. I'm a fan on the dialogue and the continued references as to how Alexei looked like poo poo. I honestly, don't have much to crit on this story. Good job Martello. crabrock posted:Sleeping Dogs Lie I really like how you started the story. The first paragraph is strong and it evokes great imagery. It's just me, but I have no idea how University account holds, municipal internships or class ranks work. You didn't really explain it, just set it down and went on. Your descriptions of all the characters are very amusing, and I enjoyed your portrayal of Alexei as this crazy buffoon who could injure himself tying his shoes without supervision. I don't see much of an intrigue in this piece. It's more like Alexei is Inspector Gadget, and Tiffany is Penny and they're on this zany adventure to groom Alexei to become mayor. It's a nice romp, but I don't think it hit this week's focus. Jagermonster posted:Closed Meeting Off the bat, I really like Earl. He's believable in his jack-assery and entitlement. Barry on the other hand, I feel like he was added just to end up as a side-kick to Earl. The characterizations are great, I just don't feel there's much story here. Dude crashes a meeting, is mad because he doesn't have an office, then leaves and makes his own office. No real intrigue, just straight forward story telling. The Saddest Rhino posted:DOGMAN: The Bark Knight I feel that a writer has done a great job when they illicit a strong reaction from their readers. I was getting a little mad, to be honest. I think you did a fantastic job. Just don't let your head get too big, rear end in a top hat. docbeard posted:Harrassment I am confused as gently caress. Alexei condemned a dog to die, yet the dog is still running around leashed by his owner? I actually don't know the 'why' to whatever is happening in your story. It's not very clear at all. Sure, Alexei has to do the video and take the test. But if he knows all he questions, why does he have to watch the video? Couldn't he just taken the test and be done with it? As a dog catcher, shouldn't the dog that was supposed to be put down, but either in a cage or already dead? Not still running around all free? Do I just not know how these things work? I dunno. Either way, there really isn't any political intrigue in this piece, besides Alexei having to take a test and arguing with the lady. I will say this though, the banter between Alexei and that first lady was well done. Everything else fell short unfortunately. Auraboks posted:Doggone suburbs Ooooh, the poor dog. I had an idea of what was going to happen midway and I couldn't stop reading. I cannot believe you let this old lady get away with puppy murder!! He was so friendly you son of a bitch. Holy gently caress, I cannot believe how devious you made Mrs. Haskell out to be. Such a loving villain. Good work mang. Sitting Here posted:Post Dog-Matic The Event! So mysterious... I wish I knew what it was! From what I can tell, the Mayor has Alexei under his thumb because of “The Event”. You got my imagination going wild with speculation, and I'm mad at you for not giving me closure! Heartless bitch! Now the shrewd looking man, I'm not so sure about. He's just there at the end doing something shady with the Mayor and that's it. He doesn't really add a whole lot to the story, which doesn't really matter cause the story itself is great in the way it's presented. Even with the whole bit how Alexei couldn't get it up. Everyone knows that dude is virile like a horse, son. Schneider Heim posted:Sometimes Work Comes Up Schneider? What the hell happened man? Nothing loving happens until the very end. Seriously. First third, Alexei is working out. Middle of story, Alexei is out eating with some peeps; Tom is a dirty vegan. End of story, hippy vegan is imprisoned for starving a dog. I think your prose is strong and clear, but man, the plot is paper thin. You gotta work on that for next week, Nukka. Anathema Device posted:Pitbull Anathema, I'm sorry man. I have no loving clue what's going on. Stream of consciousness is hard to write and a hard read I'm afraid. At least for me anyways. I'll give you a thorough crit next time around, I promise. Helsing posted:Keeping His Promise Goddamit, there's something about corporate speak that makes me eyes go loving cross-eyed with boredom. Don't get me wrong Helsing, your prose is well done, I just had to focus extra loving hard as to what the characters were discussing, until the main character started hallucinating. I was all like “Say whaaaaaa?” and then more corporate speak and my eyes glazed over again. I don't know. I really don't know why nothing plot wise grabbed me. The rat thing was cool though. Should have gone for weasels in my opinion. Accretionist posted:A Dog Eat Dog World Someone please correct me if I'm being loving stupid, but I think you're misusing italics in your prose, mang. Firstly, you should seldom use italics. Less is more; it loses it's punch if you over use it – and worse, you distract the reader. You don't need it for internal monologues either. Many authors I've read use italics for foreign words, emphasis and using a word as a word. For example “How the gently caress do you pronounce Accretionist, Merc?” Even in that regard, it's best to avoid using it unless necessary. Now to the actual story. Goddammit. All talk, no action. Nothing loving happens. “Blah blah I want that apartment!” Exposition. “Blah blah blah, I'm getting that apartment.” Story end. Barracuda Bang! posted:Russgart Weekly I can appreciate how Alexei was a side character in this story, but the story itself, the plan that you set up for your characters to follow wasn't coherent in the slightest. Even at the very beginning when they discovered the possum and it was asked how it got into the building, all that was said is that the possum chewed threw through some screen in the romance section. Since you didn't elaborate what kind of screen, I had to assume the possum chewed its way out of a projection screen and the crew was attacked by a cartoon. Going back to my original complaint, the plan set by your characters doesn't make sense. Not in the planning, and not in the execution. He wants to bring in Animal Control to catch a cartoon possum, but act like he's a library employee... who carries animal catching tools with him because..? It's messy and it simply kills my suspension of disbelief. I mean, really? Cartoon possums? 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Aug 20, 2013 03:27
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Guess I gotta toxx myself if I'm gonna join this week. Xavier Marchena School of Urban Parkour
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Aug 21, 2013 06:26
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Government funding towards Polite Minorities? That doesn't make any sense!
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Aug 22, 2013 05:06
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The Saddest Rhino posted:Thunderdome Education Fund for Belligerent Authors poo poo. No it's cool. I wanted to completely rewrite my story from the beginning. I still don't understand what you two mean by "bettering of polite minorities." I want you to recall this conversation when I submit the mess of a story on Sunday. Mercedes fucked around with this message at 05:47 on Aug 22, 2013 |
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Aug 22, 2013 05:42
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Xavier Marchena School of Urban Parkour (1499 words) Flash Rule: The school has to be government funded and for the making minorities polite. Or something like that. Omar stepped out of the bathroom and made his way back toward the crowd of look-alikes. It's been a month since he joined the class, and yet despite his motives, he's enjoyed the time he spent with Xavier. His New Jersey accent wore on many people's nerves, but, he was a stand up guy. It's a shame that by the end of the day, the school will be permanently shut down and Xavier will most likely find himself in prison. “What up, esse?” Omar clasped hands with a Puerto Rican and they pulled each other in for a shoulder bump. “Dimelo, dimelo, dimelo!” Kenneth squinted his eyes as he laughed. He had the same uniform everyone else wore. Grey cargo pants that cinched at the ankles, a blue shirt with the school name printed in yellow over a leaping frog, and a black backpack. “I still can't believe he got government funding for this. Can't even get student loan for myself.” Kenneth lightly slapped Omar on the chest and hid his surprise when his knuckles hit metal instead. “Whatever you do, don't stop bitching about his school.” “I'm just saying it's a stupid idea. Free running will not make us more polite,” Omar stabilized himself on Kenneth while he stretched his hamstrings. “The next lady he forces us to help, I'm pushing into traffic.” “Chill snowflake! You and them ladies. I swear.” Kenneth said. “Chill brotha.” Omar over-enunciated every syllable as he bobbed his head side to side. “Don't let that fake Rasta hear you, or you might find yourself doing some pull-ups like a little bitch.” “Your momma's a little bitch.” That smile again. “Look, check it. I got a text on my burner from Mervin and Eddie while you was pampering in the bathroom. We golden if we take a break in fifteen minutes at our spot. It's go time baby.” Kenneth ran towards where the group was densest. Omar was too far away to hear what Kenneth said to Xavier, but the teacher was in agreement and Kenneth led the group in the run. Everyone formed up in a single file and gave the person in front of them a few meters of distance to avoid any accidental collisions. The run was a game of follow the leader. Kenneth started off easy as he snaked his way through a playground and led the party toward a cramped alley with access to a cluster of buildings. Omar vaulted over a fence and landed with a roll. Rounding the corner, he saw a fire escape just out of his reach with someone already half way up. He turned and ran up the opposite wall. As his momentum slowed, he jumped backward and spun mid-air. His fingers curled around the iron bar and he used his feet to stop himself from crashing into the wall. He climbed up and looked at his watch. Ten minutes. The group maneuvered buildings by balancing on the sheer ledges that overlooked the street and leaping across daunting gaps. Kenneth kept the flow going by consistently changing elevations and giving the other runners things to jump over or slide under. The air whistled in Omar's ears as he sped up to clear the uneven gap between the buildings. He landed on his feet and hands and pushed himself up. He balanced himself on the raised ledge and fought back the vertigo. He peered down and saw two figures with the parkour school colors looking up at him. He glanced at his watch. Five minutes. Omar dropped from one floor to the next, catching himself on the concrete barriers between the garage levels. He shimmied to the side until he was within reach of a water drainage pipe. With a firm grip on the metal tube, he let go of the building and made his descent down to the street level. The parkour group waited for the rest to catch up. Omar checked his watch again. His brow wrinkled with worry. They're late, and if he doesn't stall for time, all this would have been for nothing. He feigned exhaustion as he stumbled up with his arms flailing around. “Hey Xavier!” Omar bent over and propped himself up on his knees. “Can we take a break? Help someone by holding their phone to their ear for them or something?” A few hushed chuckles rippled through the group. Xavier didn't look too pleased. “Come on man. Let's keep it nice, please?” he said. “Don't make me give you pull ups. We're going, Juston has a route he wants to take us through.” Sirens in the distance. Omar shot Kenneth an apprehensive look when he heard faint sounds echoing through the street. Someone must have triggered the silent alarm. He looked at the bank across from where they stood. They have thirty seconds to get out, otherwise Mervin and Eddie are getting left behind. They need every second. “gently caress you, nigga.” Omar jabbed his finger at Xavier. “Omar... relax man.” One of the runners said. “Go gently caress yourself, and eat a cat while you're at it, Slant-eyes.” Xavier placed a hand on Omar's shoulder which was immediately slapped off. “I don't know where this anger is coming from, bro. Why the hostility?” His genuine care unsettled Omar enough that he momentarily dropped his facade. Two masked men wearing the school's uniform ran into the middle of the group and pointed their pistols at everyone. “Ya'll best run if you hate bullets coming at you.” the first masked man said to the frozen group. The second gunman shot into the air and liberated everyone from their paralysis, giving them the adrenaline they needed to scatter. He shoved Xavier aside and handed Omar a stuffed black backpack before he ran off. Omar's eyes locked with Xavier's. He saw the facial expression slowly change as the realization of what actually happened came to him. There wasn't any time left. The sirens were close now and they're the only two left. Omar turned and sprinted away. He discarded the empty backpack and replaced it with the one full of money. At the corner, he turned and slipped, his inertia too much for the soles of his shoes. Still, he kept his balance, pushed himself back up and ran into the parking ramp. He rounded the second floor when he heard a familiar voice behind him. “Wait!” Xavier called out. He was gaining ground. Omar cursed when he looked back and saw how the parkour teacher chased him. He banked right and catapulted himself off a parked car. He stretched his body out and used the momentum to help himself clear the concrete barrier up to the next floor. Omar pumped his arms as he ran at full speed. Ahead of him was a gap between the parking ramp and the apartment building. He could clear it, he just needs to go up one more level. His vision shook as his feet pounded the cement. A pain flared out from his liver and his lungs burned, but he couldn't let that slow him down. Xavier was a better athlete and a better free-runner. If he was going to lose him, Omar needed to take risks larger than Xavier felt comfortable with. The ledge was straight ahead. A car pulled out of a parking spot. Omar dove forward and placed his hands on the hood allowing him swing his feet back in front. His landing was clean and he continued forward. Behind him, he heard the sound of aluminum flexing as Xavier made his way over the car. “I just want to talk, Omar!” Omar leaped forward and anchored his feet on the ledge. As his body continued forward, he sunk, gathering power into his legs. He then exploded forward, crossing the air as he looked down at his target – a balcony on the fifth floor. Omar tucked his legs in close in order to lower the amount of wind resistance. As he waved his arms back and forth, he kept his body upright. The balcony rushed up to meet him. He extended his legs to absorb most of the impact. Still, he landed hard. He rolled, but the backpack hindered him and he launched through the sliding screen door. Omar pushed himself up and pulled his gun from under his shirt. He expected to see Xavier staring at him from the garage as he turned. Instead, they collided and the gun went off. Omar pushed Xavier off of him. His hands shook as he saw all the blood. So much blood. “You idiot... why did you chase me?” He said as he crawled towards Xavier's supine body. “No one was supposed to get hurt!” Omar threw the gun on the floor and uselessly performed chest compressions. Blood squirted through his fingers as he pushed down. He stopped. Xavier's eyes had already glazed over. “No one was supposed to get hurt...”
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Aug 26, 2013 03:38
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Hey EBeef, if you have the time, could I request a crit of my entry for this week? In exchange, I'll do two flash rules of your choosing for my next dome entry.
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Aug 27, 2013 02:11
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One of these days I'll not be the "almost loser." In. EBeef, you got some rules for me before I go working on this story? Mercedes fucked around with this message at 19:43 on Aug 27, 2013 |
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Aug 27, 2013 19:31
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Homework accepted.
Mercedes fucked around with this message at 00:02 on Aug 30, 2013 |
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Aug 29, 2013 19:04
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Sitting Here posted:I haven't hated anything so far, You just had to say it. Naive 1000 words “I can't believe you lost another job!” Veronica threw a dish into the sink. Henry shied away from her anger. “Baby, this time it's not my fault. I swear it.” He brought his hands up in frustration. “I was laid off, as well as ten other people.” “I bet you didn't even attempt to talk to HR.” Victoria's fingers drummed the sink counter. “Did you attempt to get relocated to another department or something?” “Vic, there's nothing for me at that company. I do have a plan to get me back on my feet, though.” Henry said. “We have talked about you and plans, Henry.” Veronica said. “You're most likely unwittingly doing something illegal and we're both going to end up in jail.” “No one is going to jail, I promise...” “What's this plan of yours?” Veronica said. “Just...” Henry hesitated, “trust me on this one, please?” “No.” She crossed her arms “Tell me. Now.” Henry wavered under his wife's gaze. “I started a business with a friend of mine. Tucker.” Victoria blinked. “Would you care to repeat that honey? I don't think I heard you right.” “I invested the money in our savings account to start a convenience store.” Henry said. “I want to pull my own weight. I want a marriage of equals.” Victoria chewed on her lower lip. Henry was earnest in his plea to be a better man for her and it gave her pause. “Okay Henry. Let me see the business plan for your store.” Henry stopped, stunned by the question. “Business plan?” His mouth felt like a desert. “I... don't have one.” “I'm going to slap the man out of you, Henry.” “I can call him!” Henry struggled to pull his phone out of his pocket. “He has all the minute details. It's all planned out. I'll let you talk to him and he'll explain the process.” He triumphantly liberates his phone from his pants and calls Tucker, placing the cell on speakerphone. “I'm sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or no longer in service. If you feel that you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try again.” Henry's face turned white. He leaned against the table to keep himself up. He looked up at Veronica and witnessed her hold back her rage. Before he could open his mouth to explain, Veronica closed the distance and hit him across the face. Henry lost his footing and fell to the ground, hitting the back of his head against the wall. -------------- As Henry woke, he groaned, willing the world to stop spinning. He found himself in a claustrophobic cave with Veronica seated at a large computer, pounding away at the keys. “Henrietta,” Victoria turned her head towards the noise, “you're awake.” she said. She snapped her fingers at Henrietta and held her hand out. “Give me your phone.” Henry's hands flew to his chest. “Oh God!” he said with a girlish squeal. Horrified, he squeezed his breasts. “Not again...” “Quickly!” Veronica's fingers beckoned. “We don't have much time.” Henrietta dug the phone out of her pocket and held it out. Victoria snatched it away and plugged it into the computer. “Your fool of a friend thinks he can take my money and live to spend it?” She squinted her eyes and curled her lips into a snarl. “Not in his lifetime.” The sudden computer ping startled Henrietta. “Found you!” Victoria slammed the palm of her hand on the desk as she shot up to her feet. She marched past Henrietta and pulled her to her feet. Victoria then dragged her into a cramped pod and fastened her in. “Victoria, I'm so sorry.” Henrietta avoided the angry eyes. “I just wanted to be a good husband - a provider. I don't want to be a burden anymore.” Victoria's face softened and a small smile managed to pull on the corners of her lips. “Oh shush. You're not a burden to me. You're just too naive for this world, and I love you for it.” she said. With a hiss, the door closed and clicked as it locked. Henrietta closed her eyes when she felt the rumble grow behind. The sudden inertia slammed her back against her seat and knocked the air from her lungs. As they closed in on their destination, the pod started a rapid descent. “I just want you to know, if I die, I always loved you.” “Shut up Henrietta. Keep your head behind cover and you'll be fine.” “Yes dear...” When the pod exploded into the ground, Victoria and Henrietta emerged from the wreckage with assault rifles braced against their shoulders aimed at Tucker. Tucker hurdled over a car and hunkered down as bullets peppered his cover. He pulled out two sub-machine guns from his jacket and kissed the barrels. He turned and vaulted over the vehicle, high in the air and sprayed bullets down at them. “No!” Henrietta ran to Victoria to take a bullet for her. Victoria palmed Henrietta's head and threw her behind to safety. She lunged to the side, holding down the trigger as she returned fire. The clip emptied and Veronica reached for another one, but Tucker was already on her, knocking her to the ground. He held both guns to her head, but before he could pull the trigger, he felt the muzzle of another rifle against his temple. “I trusted you, Tucker.” Henry said, testosterone back in his voice. Tucker stood up and faced Henry with a smirk on his face. “Put that toy away before you hurt yourself. You're not going to shoot me.” he said, slowly turning back to Veronica. “Now go away, it's time for the adults to play.” Tears stung his eyes. He'll prove to everyone he has what it takes to thrive in this world. He pulled the trigger.
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Sep 2, 2013 04:56
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Put me in and give me a story to crit Seb.
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Sep 4, 2013 22:50
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quote:Brunch (447 words) Let me get this out of the way. Here's the plot. Allan and Samantha go out to a diner. The end. Congratulations for writing a story where nothing loving happens. Was that your flash rule? The dialogue was horrendous. I felt like I was witnessing a scene out of Passions with that little midget poo poo, Timothy, playing the role of Allan. gently caress that guy and gently caress Seb “I have a real doll problem” mojo for making me crit this. Seriously, how can you justify submitting this as a full story? Conflict makes a story interesting. If everything is all honky dory, well then, good for them? We don't care. I don't want to read about someone having the perfect day all blushing. Also, your bitch rear end Allan is a pussy. 10 years they've been married and already his hands are all gnarled and poo poo and they're that way because he worked hard for her  . gently caress him. Some guy who has his hands all hosed up like that ain't gonna get all embarrassed to hold hands with his woman in public. He's more likely to have a thousand yard stare or something.
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Sep 5, 2013 05:59
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Thanks Anathema. You're correct in your assertion that the second half is where the wheels came off. I plan on completing it once I figure out how to actually finish it. Thanks for the crit.
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Sep 7, 2013 16:49
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I'm going to assume that the deadline is 2 am EST cause
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Sep 9, 2013 05:28
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A 7pm deadline? Please. Counter Clock Wise 349 Words The skeleton relaxed face down in the Florida heat, segmented and cracked under a thick brush. It was hesitant at first, but it knew it was time to get up. It struggled, but managed to shuffle his bones closer together and started constructing ligaments to keep its body from rolling away. The mending process was far to difficult for the skeleton to go at alone, so it reluctantly asked his friends for help. The response was slow, but steady. Beetles marched backwards to the skeleton's aid, carrying pieces of connective tissue. As the beetles worked, the maggots and flies showed up to lend a hand. The skeleton was happy that he had friends who came to his aid. Everyone's efforts were concerted and frantic in their work, yet surgically accurate. The wriggling mass of larvae reconstructed delicate blood vessels while other insects meticulously placed flesh into place. A possum joined the party and backed into the clearing, keeping an eye out for anything that might disturb their efforts. After being certain that nothing followed him there, he turned around and shoved a large chunk of muscle into the skeleton's leg as if it were a jigsaw piece. Nodding at a job well done, the possum backed away from the body to give others a chance to come by and help with the restoration. Larger animals had more to offer than the possum – they would regurgitate other pieces of flesh and flawlessly knit it back into place. The skeleton had skin and muscles, but the flies and maggots knew it was missing vital organs. They fiercely worked at building the skeleton some eyes, a heart and other entrails. Now that the workspace was enclosed, the heat and gases distended the body, but that didn't slow anyone down. Finally, with the body complete, the flies and maggots left – proud of a job well done. Only one last thing left to bring the skeleton back to life. It pushed itself off the ground and the skull bones that were penetrated on a sharp looking rock quickly mended itself back together. Mercedes fucked around with this message at 06:05 on Sep 9, 2013 |
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Sep 9, 2013 05:45
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This past prompt was tough as hell, but a welcome change.
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Sep 10, 2013 00:34
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I wasn't late! You were early!
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Sep 10, 2013 06:33
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Gmt? Is that gonna be a 7pm est thing again? I'm in btw
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Sep 10, 2013 15:24
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Good loving lord, I have the lead for most Dishonorable Mentions. 
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Sep 14, 2013 20:21
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I'm not gonna make it. I went travelling this weekend and my wife would have broken my fingers if I spent my time on my laptop instead of exploring.
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Sep 15, 2013 21:25
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If its cool systran, I can help judge
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Sep 16, 2013 17:01
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Anal Surgery posted:Do first time contestants have to do anything to prove they aren't going to waste your time, or is the threat of the Shameatar enough? loving write a story and spare us your insecurities. That's all you gotta do as a first time contestant.
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Sep 20, 2013 23:44
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crabrock posted:Pardon Mercedes, he's our resident cussing-enthusiast. If he spent more time writing and less time trying to be hard on the forums, we'd all be grateful. My mouth goes where it pleases. Flash Rule crabrock, your story better have some hard-rear end getting what's coming to him.Sign ups are closed! Mercedes fucked around with this message at 06:11 on Sep 21, 2013 |
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Sep 21, 2013 06:04
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That does it guys. Time's up!
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Sep 23, 2013 05:09
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Crits for the past week can be read here as I work on them. I also allowed it so you can comment or vent at me or whatever. Just so you have an avenue to do so. I'll jump in this week with Clue in the Camera. Mercedes fucked around with this message at 02:29 on Sep 24, 2013 |
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Sep 24, 2013 01:40
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Clue in the Camera 644 Words "This camera is strange indeed. It's like nothing I've ever witnessed before.” Vicky poked it and frowned at it's inaction. She crouched on the dirt floor, the only light source cutting through the dusty air and illuminating the object of investigation. Sitting in the darkness, his back against an exposed tree root, Kennedy hung his head low with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. "For God's sake, Vicky, please stop talking... please." "Samuel, come and look." Vicky pointed at the camera's grip. "Why do you keep calling me Samuel? It's me! We've known each other since grad school!" Kennedy said, revealing red rimmed eyes as he brought his hands down to chew on his earth encrusted fingernails. "Don't be silly, Samuel.” Vicky shifted her position to observe from another angle. “Look at this. I think the viewing lens is where stores its mystical powers." Vicky paused, looking intently at the camera, and then glanced up at Kennedy. "Could this device be a portal into another dimension?" "Just leave the drat thing alone? I'm begging you." Kennedy said. He peered into the dark, focusing past the floating motes in the sun light and onto the pile of human bones he and Vicky shoved in the corner. "Oh Samuel, such a joker." She said, waving him over. "You must come here and see this. Bring the notepad with you, there are a few details I want to cross reference." Kennedy groaned and watched her as he sat against the earth. Vicky continued, oblivious to the fact that Kennedy ignored her command. "Take notice of this specific circular alloy on the top corner. It seems you can press on-" With a pulse of power that vibrated deep in the chest, the camera ripped a smoky essence from Vicky's body. She lurched forward and sat motionless. In the corner of the room, Kennedy clutched his mouth shut with his hands. His body shook as his tears cleaned lines of dirt from his face. "This camera is strange indeed. It's like nothing I've ever witnessed before." Kennedy shot to his feet, ran to the camera, picked it up, and threw it against the wall with a shout. The camera harmless bounced off the wall and landed on the ground. He yelled nonsense, finding no other way to express his frustration. Vicky crawled towards the camera and knelt in front of it like she had all the other times before. "This camera is strange indeed. It's like nothing I've ever witnessed before." Kennedy was in her face, his voice strained and slipped as he shouted. “Leave the camera alone for Christ's sake! Stop touching it and come back to me – we need to get out of here!" "Samuel come look." She said, ignoring his presence. Kennedy reached forward with quivering hands and hesitantly wrapped them around Vicky's neck. "I can't leave you like this... I love you so much baby." He kissed her on the forehead. "Don't be silly child. Look at this." She pointed at the camera's lens again, completely oblivious to Kennedy's increasing pressure. "I believe I found the cause of this contraption's power." she said with her voice raspy - the pressure on Vicky's throat made it difficult to speak. Kennedy let go and sagged in defeat. “I can't.. I just..” He grabbed the camera and set it on his lap with his finger lightly touching the circular alloy. He leaned forward and kissed Vicky on the lips one last time. “Baby, I'm sorry.” He pressed the camera's button. Kennedy was pulled forward by an invisible force, his mind ripped out from his body and into the camera. “This camera is strange indeed. It's like nothing I've ever witnessed before.” Vicky said. “Quite right. I'd say it's from another dimension of some sort.” Kennedy said, an excited smile on his face.
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Sep 30, 2013 02:38
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Alright you ungrateful fuckers. I finished the crits from last week. You can read them here.
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Sep 30, 2013 09:30
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Last week's prompt was totes fun. Thanks for that Kaishai. Now give us this week's prompt already, jack-rear end!
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Sep 30, 2013 20:54
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