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Woohoo, time for me to in!
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Jan 10, 2023 11:00
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In with a double flash, and  for last week's failure!
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Jan 17, 2023 23:16
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Beezus posted:Gift: A camp stove The Mountain Hare 1381 words As the last rays of daylight crept below the tree line, a furry brown creature bounded across the campsite. It was a mountain hare, its nose quivering inquisitively as it sniffed around for leftover morsels. Unbeknownst to the poor creature, danger was close by. A slight rustling caused the hare to freeze up immaculately like a statue, its ears pricked up and its whiskers still. The sound of a rifle being fired was the last the animal heard, and without so much as a scream, it perished instantly, the bullet cutting cleanly through its skull. Arlo stepped forward to examine his prize, lifting the hare up by the ears. "We got ourselves some dinner," he hollered at his teenage son. Scuttling meekly behind his father, Timothy tried to mask the disappointment on his face. Hare for the sixth meal in a row, he thought to himself in disdain. The animal's dead eyes stared hollowly back at him. They had been out here for days already, father and son, on a wild goose chase that Arlo had insisted on. He believed there was a cryptid up in these mountains, something akin to the Sasquatch, and when none of the townsfolk in the valley believed his tall tales, he swore he'd bring back evidence with his own two hands. After all, it had to be a monster behind all of the mysterious kidnappings as of late. In the past year, five residents had vanished during their morning jogs, their afternoon walks, or their late-night drives, and there was no rational pattern the local law enforcement could discern. Arlo, the deputy sheriff, had proposed the most absurd theory the town had ever heard, and yet he was determined to prove himself right. Timothy had never agreed to go on a monster hunt with Arlo, but when he was told to pack his bag and get in the truck, he obeyed without question. He never went against his father's orders, even if it was against his preference. After all, his opinion didn't matter much in the end. Obediently, he had loaded up a rucksack with some camping supplies, clambered into the pickup truck, and away they had driven. The muggy summer evening passed uneventfully as they cooked the hare over their handy camping stove for the sixth time in three days. Timothy swatted away mosquito after mosquito, while Arlo babbled on about the Sasquatch and how he was going to shoot it and bring its head back to town as a trophy, not even noticing that his son had already tuned out. It was only further proof to the boy that Arlo enjoyed the sound of his own voice more than anything else, and Timothy found solace in daydreaming as the deputy’s droning prattle became white noise, just like the swarming mosquitoes. Timothy liked to envision an alternate world, where a hearty meal of deer meat and wild herbs awaited them on the stove and Arlo would ask about his day, about his interests, about his life. He imagined basking in the warmth of a campfire as his father spoke words of encouragement to him. Was it too much to dream that this camping trip could have been a father-son bonding experience, instead of mere child's play for a man whose ego was more inflated than a hot air balloon? Arlo was built like a bear, tall and muscular, with a bushy beard and large hands that could crush anything if he tried hard enough. He was a commanding figure with a booming voice, and his main point of persuasion had always been his intimidating stature. But everything that the deputy was, his son was not. Timothy was scrawny and slight, and he looked like a strong gust of wind might have easily knocked him down and carried him away. When the town kidnappings began, the deputy's son was the last person they would have suspected. That night, the rain poured down in torrents. As Arlo snored through the worst of the storm, Timothy lay awake and restless. For some inexplicable reason, the image of the mountain hare was grafted into his mind. In a strange way, he felt a kinship toward it, even though it had become his dinner like the others before it. As quietly as he could, Timothy slid out of his sleeping back and stood up. Tugging a poncho out of his bag, he slipped it on and glanced at his father: Arlo made no indication of waking. Quietly, the boy picked up a flashlight and snuck out of the tent. The rain drummed rhythmically against his body as he wove through the towering trees, following a path familiar to him illuminated only by the bobbing flashlight in his hand. After half an hour of trudging through the mud and slushy undergrowth, a small cave in the side of the mountain yawned into view. The teenager darted inside and pulled off his sopping poncho immediately, catching his breath for a moment before proceeding deeper inside. The flashlight cast looming shadows as Timothy pressed onward, and within a few minutes he arrived at a large chamber with a pool of water of varying depth. Stalactites hung dauntingly from above, and a colony of roosting bats chirped in disapproval as the flashlight beam swept across their turf. Crouching down near the edge of the pool, Timothy dipped a hand in and fished out a human skull. There were minimal traces of organic matter on it, and yet the boy spoke calmly to it. "I'm back," he whispered softly, and with the utmost care, he returned the skull to the water. Along the edge of the cavernous room lay several bodies at various stages of decayal, many features unrecognizable. The soft tissues had long disintegrated, and bone showed through in some places, but the clothing and any accessories had been left exactly as they'd been. It was strange to think that Timothy's closest friends were a group of very untalkative fellows, but he didn't mind too much. He could hold up his end of the conversation, and his company would politely listen without commentary. To the teenager, it felt as if they understood him — something his father had never done. "Dad says we're not going home until we take down the Sasquatch," he relayed, his audience mute as the dead often were. "I think he might give up soon, and I'm tired of eating hares." He took their lack of response as a silent sympathy and sank down to a sitting position across from the corpses. "Sometimes I feel bad for the hares. They scrounge for food, only to end up becoming food for someone else. They're weak animals with no way of defending themselves. They don't know better — if anything, all they know is fear in the last second before they die." His voice held a note of sadness as it echoed in the room. He let the feeling hang in the air, lingering like the scent of smoke after a fire burns itself out. It was the type of melancholy that held a certain beauty to it, a softness to its darkness. And over the noise of the chittering bats, there was a sound of footfalls. Thump. Thump. Timothy continued to talk. "I don't think he'll ever find a Sasquatch, but maybe he'll find a monster anyway. Maybe he will return to the town as a hero, spinning a tall tale about all the things he saw up here, and maybe people will believe him. But he'll never be satisfied." In a more dejected tone, he added, "I know he'll never be satisfied with me." Thump. Thump. His thoughts drifted back to his earlier reverie of an inviting campfire and a warm embrace from his father, something he'd never known. "I wish he would listen to me the way you do. You’re my only friends." Thump. Thump. Like a mountain hare, Timothy remained frozen in place. He didn't need to turn around to know that Arlo had found him. He didn't need to turn around to know that there were tears trickling down the deputy’s face, even though the deputy rarely cried. And he didn't need to turn around to know that his father had finally found the monster he was hunting.
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Jan 23, 2023 02:22
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I'll hop in with:a friendly penguin posted:-“He was a boy who grew up to be a grown up, then he became a scientist who studied a Kraken on the beach.” If your kid has any other wise words to add for this one, go for it!
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Jan 24, 2023 15:33
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-“He was a boy who grew up to be a grown up, then he became a scientist who studied a Kraken on the beach.” -"Get ready for a hug attack!" The Scientist and the Kraken 791 words There once was a boy who lived in the hills, But he dreamt of a house by the sea. His homeland was green, and with trees it was filled, But it wasn't where he wanted to be. At school Jamie learned that the ocean was wide And home to a million creatures. "How exciting!" he thought, and with youthful pride, He endeavored to study its features. His classmates were mean and made fun of him Each day during lunch at school. They'd push or shove him on a whim Because he wasn't "cool". He tried his best to tune them out, But really, he wanted a friend To cheer him on in times of doubt, Or a listening ear to lend. After his schooling, young Jamie moved To attend university. He pored through his books, and his knowledge improved On biodiversity. Jamie worked hard to do well in his class— Oh, he studied all day and all night! And over the years, his exams he would pass, And he'd publish the papers he'd write. A letter he penned to his parents one day In the hopes that they would be proud. He set down to draft it and scribbled away, And then he proofread it aloud: "The lectures were long and the homework was tough, But at last, I'll graduate a scholar! To the ocean I'll go, where the waves are rough, With a beach full of shells and sand dollars." "I hope I'll discover new species there, Although I fear I may fail. But if I could settle down anywhere, Then my dream of the seaside prevails." He sent it out to his family And waited for their replies. His parents then wrote back with glee, "To stardom you will rise!" With their words in mind, Jamie set out to work As a scientist on the seashore; He researched the fauna that swam in the murk Of waters not studied before. A lobster, a dolphin, a shark and a whale: He catalogued all of their traits. But soon he would tell a more glorious tale, For a shocking surprise did await! One morning, a storm poured down on the beach, And the ocean waves shuddered and squalled. Jamie peered out the window, and just out of reach Was a monster — now, what was it called? The beast had eight arms the length of a ship And two golden, intelligent eyes; Its tentacles tightened into a grip And it let out a fearsome cry. The scientist donned his coat and his hat And he went out to take a look. The monster, it thrashed on the sand where it sat And the ground all around it shook. "A Kraken!" cried Jamie, on his face a smile As broad as the ocean he studied. The rain fell around them for miles and miles, And his shoes became soaked and muddied. Poor Jamie! The beast turned to him with a groan, And he feared he had met his end. But the monster spoke in a sorrowful tone, "All I want is to have a friend." "The depths of the ocean are dark and deep, But there aren't many others around, So I swam to the surface and took a big leap In the hopes that a friend could be found." The scientist patiently lent an ear As the Kraken recounted its woes. And suddenly, gone was Jamie's fear— At least, so the story goes. For the monster reminded him of the days When he'd felt alone as a boy; And he thought, perhaps, he could find a way To bring the beast some joy. "Dear Kraken, I'm sorry to hear how you feel; The deep sea's a lonely place. I'll give you a hug, let's make it a deal, And I'll put a grin on your face!" The beast coiled its tentacles— all eight of its arms— 'round the scientist in an embrace. "You are the first not to wish any harm To me, or to any of my race." And so, in the rain they hugged and they laughed Together, a human and beast. Perhaps other people would think it looked daft, But those opinions mattered the least. Oh, the laughter they shared and the stories they told! Jamie wished it would never end. But the evening fell and the air grew cold, So he bid a farewell to his friend. And over the years, they kept in touch, Withstanding the test of time. A simple embrace— it wasn't much— Was the key that inspired this rhyme. Old Jamie now shares what he learned from his work In a school that he built by the sea. And to this day, the Kraken still lurks Where it knows that Jamie will be.
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Jan 30, 2023 08:34
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Checking in, please put a flash rule on my room tab
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Feb 10, 2023 11:16
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The Roommates 1249 words "I'm sorry, but we don't have any more rooms available." The hostel receptionist smiles sweetly at me, but the look in her eyes tells me she gets this kind of request all the time, and she's sick of it. "There must have been a mistake," I insist. "I booked a single room." Tough luck, buddy, her face tells me, and I shuffle disgruntedly into the breakfast room. Breakfast consists of a choice between stale cereal with lukewarm milk or overripe fruit. I opt for the fruit and settle down at the only unoccupied table. I'm disappointed in myself as I survey the fleabag hostel, with a grand total of three tables and a broken microwave servicing twenty-four rooms — the majority of which I've learned are shared between complete strangers. The room I'm in has four beds, and one glance at my roommates already told me I'd be in for a long week. Sure, I'm on a tight budget, but this is a bit too tight even for my standards. The weather outside doesn't look promising; it's pouring hard enough that the view is obscured by the rain splattering against the window. "Do not use the shower room on the first floor," cautions a spectacled young man wearing an oversized hoodie as he cops a seat at my table. "Looks like I'm in luck, then," I drawl dryly at my uninvited company. "I'm on the second floor." The shortage of seating is about as deplorable as this fruit bowl; it's impossible to keep a low profile if I'm expected to partake in conversations, and it looks suspicious if I try to ignore them. My lip curls in disdain as I poke at a particularly mushy piece of cantaloupe. The guy across from me picks up his mug a bit carelessly, coffee sloshing out. "Don't let the hot water tempt you." I raise a brow. "The second floor doesn't have hot water?" Not that I'd expect much of this place, but a lack of hot water really nails it in that I'm probably staying in the shoddiest accommodation in the city, save for a cardboard box under the bridge. And even a cardboard box has more privacy. I take a bite of my food, and immediately spit out a piece of probably rotten pineapple. "You'll see," shrugs Hoodie cryptically. I take a sip of my coffee, only to find that it's a horrid combination of watery and bitter. Disgusted, I stand up to clear my place, leaving the dishes in the cleaning area. -- There's shouting coming from my room when I insert the key. Inhaling deeply, I brace myself for the worst and turn the door handle. My two high-as-a-kite teenage roommates are hanging halfway out the open window, and the heavy rain is inevitably drifting inside as they smoke. Some of what they're saying is completely incoherent to me, but I catch on quickly. "Yeah man, you should totally do it!" "Really?" "Yeah, like, totally! Imagine how rich you'll be!" "Yeah, I like money!" All my instincts tell me to leave this conversation alone, but I can't suppress the urge to shut the window, so I approach them diplomatically and clear my throat. "Sorry, guys. Could you close the window? It's getting a bit chilly." One of them — the bloke with an ugly paisley sweater — turns around to face me. "Oh, sorry man! We were just making plans to rob a bank!" I stare blankly at the two of them. Paisley Sweater grins. "We're gonna be sooooo rich!" "So rich," echoes the mohawked guy in only a tie-dye shirt with a stoned looking dinosaur on it. "I don't think you guys should rob a bank," I advise them. "But don't you wanna get rich?" "Robbing a bank is the fastest way to get money!" "Robbing a bank is the fastest way to go to jail," I correct them. Dino Shirt pouts at me. "But think of all the money!" "You should totally rob a bank and get rich, man! You'd be set for life!" There's not much point in reasoning with them right now, so I try to distract them instead. I really want that window closed. "Hey, there's still some grub downstairs. Why don't you fellows grab some breakfast before it's all gone?" Dino nods pensively. "I don't wanna rob a bank when I'm starved," he agrees, peeling himself away from the window. As the two of them leave, I breathe a sigh of relief. I shut the window and pull out a book to read. -- My troublesome roommates are gone for much longer than I'd anticipated, but I can't complain. The relative quiet is a blessing, although the paper-thin walls leak every single sound, no matter how subtle. In fact, I can hear a commotion down the corridor. I leave the room to go to the toilet, and to my dismay the source of the ruckus greets me as I open the door. A flood of sewage water rushes into the carpeted hallway, and I jump back in startlement. Once again, Dino Shirt and Paisley Sweater are stirring up trouble — I recognize their voices. "Turn it to the right!" screeches Dino. "I did," insists Paisley. "No, the other right!" For whatever blasted reason, I find myself trudging through the muck. I arrive to see Paisley turning the water knob the wrong way in an attempt to shut off the overflowing toilet. "Move aside; I'll do it," I announce, stepping over the useless teens to try my luck. The toilet bowl stops filling as soon as I shut off the tap, and the kids stew dazedly in their swamp of a stall. "Why were you even in here?" I ask, instantly regretting my question. Before they can answer, someone else barges through the door, yelping as a fresh wave of water laps at their feet. I hear the door slam, followed by the sound of running footsteps as the hapless guest scrambles away. Without being asked, I yank the two idiots to their feet and guide them out of this disaster of a bathroom. "I'll let the desk know," I assure them — not that they're listening — and practically shove them back out into the corridor before storming down to the reception desk once more. The receptionist stares at me, unimpressed by my sopping wet attire, the excess water dripping off the edges of my shirt. A trail of muddy footprints can be traced to my former whereabouts. "Is that toilet flooding again?" she asks in a disinterested manner. "I'll call the repairman tomorrow. Just use the downstairs bathroom for now." A tight smile on my face, I thank her and head back to my dreadful room, if only to make sure that my roommates haven't stolen my suitcase. I discover quickly that they've forgotten about robbing a bank, but they're onto the next terrible idea. "Oh, poo poo," I mutter as I watch Paisley lob pieces of mushy fruit out the window at the pedestrians below. They're giggling like children. I don't know how much more of this I can take, and against my better judgment I yank Paisley away from the window without commentary. "Hey, we were playing a game," he protests as I wedge myself between them and the window. "No, you're not," I respond flatly, slamming the window down and locking it. Paisley stares at me with bloodshot eyes, barely comprehending anything I've said. This is going to be a long day...
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Feb 13, 2023 12:05
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In with a flash, please!
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Mar 9, 2023 10:46
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Prey 459 words I always minded my own business in the garden. I'd watch as the human spent hours tending the tiny sprouts that had sprung forth from the seeds she'd sown in the loam. The wind would hum a wistful tune as it snaked between the vines on the trellis. The human didn't seem to be bothered much by my presence; in fact, she probably appreciated it. I clung to a leaf and snatched up any pests within reach to devour them hungrily. One day when I was on the hunt for prey, I noticed a high level of activity around the tomatoes. I snuck closer and discovered a wonderful feast of aphids spread up and down the length of the plants, and my mandibles twitched in anticipation. Slowly, carefully, I crept up the trellis, my eyes fixated on the juicy green pests, and in a flash I had grabbed a particularly nice aphid in my arms. As I munched on the struggling bug, a whooshing from above me caused me to freeze mid-bite. A bird was attempting to make a snack out of me! I stood still as a leaf, hoping it would pass, but it dove straight toward me, and I lashed out in retaliation, batting its feet away as it tried to catch me. The angry predator made another swoop, this time causing me to lose my foothold on the trellis. I tumbled to the ground, my bright green coloration fully exposed against the dull earth. I scrambled to my feet and prepared for the battle of a lifetime, but as I scraped the air in vain, the human rushed out from the house, waving her arms to scare the bird away. Screeching, the horrid avian took to the skies, and the human knelt down beside me and extended a hand. For a minute, I studied my benefactor: tall and strong, like a tree, but more mobile. She made facial expressions and vocalizations, whereas trees had their own quiet language. I wiggled my antennae at her to test the air, but she made no sign of threat, so I inched toward her outstretched fingers and clambered aboard. She lifted me up faster than I could have crawled, and stopped when her hand was aligned with the top of the tomato trellis. I observed with fascination as the aphids milled around, and then I stepped onto the plant once more. "I'd like you to stay," voiced the human, although I did not understand her words. "You keep my garden free of harmful bugs, and I appreciate it." I waved my arms at her and she giggled. "Enjoy your lunch, little mantis." And with that, she walked away, and my focus shifted to the tasty prey in front of me.
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Mar 13, 2023 11:26
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Forgot to quote my prompt:Chernobyl Princess posted:Use Small and Slow Solutions
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Mar 13, 2023 11:27
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in!
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Mar 14, 2023 00:58
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The Bone Sword Prompt: Face your Destiny (week 20) 908 words These bones of power, they feed you. Every sinew of your body yearns for their energy to fuel your relentless lust for control. Once, you were the underdog, with no purpose save for to serve a much greater entity than yourself. You were a mere slave to their whims, eager to please and dutiful in your service. But you soon grew weary of how constant — how dreadfully predictable — your tasks had become. You longed for something more, to quench the desire for controlled chaos you harbored deep within. With time, you built a network founded on trust and a need for change, and eventually the day arrived when you led a coup against your master. And now, you stand the most revered and feared in the galaxy. Under your leadership, many an invasion was meticulously planned an executed, the last of which convinced you to settle comfortably on the conquered planet. You rooted your empire in a vast jungle on Earth, allowing the wild overgrowth to snake across the alien surface of your base. The primary inhabitants of this planet, the humans, were complacent when they realized they had no choice but to kneel to your might, and when you watched a sea of people bow before you, you savored the taste of your victory. Your long, spindly fingers creep like spider's legs over the hilt of the bone sword, gripping it firmly but elegantly as you set forth to patrol the premises. The sword is your source of strength, forged from the trophies collected from fallen enemies. With each life that ends on this world, a greater sentience awakens in your weapon. Your eye seeks out disturbances in the area, and your sword seeks to eliminate them. Nary an intruder has escaped your hawkish gaze to date, and you pride yourself in keeping the record. Over the course of your reign on Earth, your form has become increasingly humanoid. Instead of seventeen writhing tentacles, you evolved a set of four appendages: two on which you move about, and two with which you skillfully manipulate material objects. You've never liked the drab hues on this planet in comparison to your home, and so you choose to keep the peculiarities of your original color palette, even if they are beyond earthly perception. Another non-negotiable point is your singular eye, incapable of visualizing the third dimension, but well-equipped to assess a spectacular range of wavelengths with all of the breathtaking colors this planet seems to lack. As you stroll through the cavernous halls of your domain, your thoughts meander. Despite all of the control you exert, the power that you hold over this planet, you have no wish to obliterate all its lifeforms. Your bone sword aches with bloodlust, and yet you feel a strange peace you've never known before. Perhaps you're growing wiser, or perhaps you're simply growing old. Or perhaps, this world is not yours to destroy. Can you hear it? The whistling sound of your fate summoning you, like the ocean calling her tide back from the shore. You close your eye to relish the moment in visual silence, recounting the glorious invasion of Earth under your command, and the ensuing occupation that has held the planet captive for over two centuries, measured in their time units. The bone sword swings of its own accord, hissing savagely as it seeks out your enemies. It hunts ruthlessly for blood to stain its blade, until a well-timed shot severs the sword from your fingers. Stunned, you stare for a moment at the primitive arrow piercing your hand, and something akin to pain begins to set in as the acid-laced tip works into your vitals. A rain of arrows soon follows. Where are your guards? Each point of contact burns a hole upon contact, tainting you like a poison. How truly vulnerable you are. In an effort to quell the uprising, you will the bone sword to slay your remaining foes. It trembles with newfound power, hungering for more. And then, it discovers another presence with an even greater lust for blood, and it breaks away from your control without hesitation. Your powers suddenly drastically reduced, you seek cover, limping pitifully around a corner as a trail of viscous fluid oozes from your wounds. The new owner of the bone sword wields the weapon comfortably, her hand grasping the hilt with determination. She advances at a speed you cannot hope to match, impressive for a human, and her feral strength lands a hefty blow, pinning you to the ground like a helpless ragdoll. You know the sword will no longer answer to you, and you respect it. You acknowledge the searing heat of a thousand suns on your stardust-colored flesh with naught but a smile as the acid eats you alive, spreading rapidly from the tips of the arrows embedded in your skin. Your biological systems have already begun to collapse, but you stay afloat just long enough to signal respect to your new nemesis, the resilient human who has ignited yet another war — this time to overthrow your lengthy regime. After all these years, still you cannot comprehend human emotions; and yet, you recognize that they, too, shall taste victory amidst the surmounting destruction of your fortified base, and you admire them for it. Your death is agonizing but dignified, and the last traces of you sizzle with finality in a puddle on the floor beneath the bone sword.
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Mar 20, 2023 09:38
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in with a flash!
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Apr 4, 2023 13:06
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I'm travelling this week and probably shouldn't commit time to this, but what better use of time on a flight than to write a story? 🙃 /in and flash, and because I failed to submit last week like the silly goose I am.
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Apr 11, 2023 00:57
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Just Like Old Times 999 words As the tinny bell sounded joylessly above the tavern door to announce Xavier's arrival, he drew back the hood from his face, sloshing some pooling rainwater in the process. Stamping his boots briskly at the entryway to keep them from leaving puddles in his wake, he squelched over to a vacant barstool and seated himself, motioning wordlessly for the bartender to serve him a shot of hard liquor. "loving summer rain," muttered the irate young man, partly to the bartender but mostly to himself. He ran his jacket sleeve over his forehead to dry off the water, but it only spread the dampness further. "Season's almost over," remarked the bartender as he finished polishing a glass before letting the tap beer flow into it. "Soon the snow will come, and then it's loving winter." The customer sitting closest to Xavier sniggered. "Ah yes, the loving weather. You can never win against it!" This elicited a dry chuckle out of Xavier as he slid his drink closer. He smirked and raised his shotglass to the other. "Cheers," he said, meeting his neighbour's eyes. "To our loving weather." He downed the pungent black liquid in a flash and clinked the empty glass on the counter as he exchanged it for a beer. ~ By eleven o'clock in the evening, the tavern was teeming with customers. Some stood at the card tables with a drawn, wistful look in their eyes. Others chatted away at their seats with their cronies. There were no free spots at the bar counter anymore, and a throng of thirsty civilians clamoured between the barstools for another round. But the town drunkard ignored the crowd as he entered and shoved his way shamelessly to the front. By now, Xavier was well into enjoying his evening, and he'd most definitely had a drink too many. His gaze was fixated on the label on his beer glass, as if trying to determine what it read. And so, when the big, burly, beer-bellied Bobby elbowed Xavier in his quest toward the bar, the latter shot him a death glare. "Watch it," growled Xavier, narrowing his eyes at the disturbance. "The queue's over there." He gestured in a largely vague direction, his finger drifting in a questionable squiggle as he struggled to point through the mass of people. Bobby leered at the source of the voice, close enough that his wretched stench crept into Xavier's nostrils; the air reeked of spilt beer and sour milk. "Bobby does as Bobby pleases," snarled the larger man, "an' Bobby pleases to have himself a drink now." In a power move, Bobby snatched Xavier's glass and chugged the remaining amber liquid with a spitefully satisfied look on his face. "Oh, gently caress you," Xavier spat impulsively, swiping the empty beer glass out of the other's hand. "Eat poo poo, rear end in a top hat." He regretted his words almost instantly. Leaving no time for a reaction, Bobby cuffed Xavier soundly on the ear, causing him to topple off his seat and grasp at the bar counter to keep his balance. "What was that?" seethed the towering drunk, and Xavier could faintly sense a shift in atmosphere. His ear was ringing and blocking out any sound from that side, and he couldn't focus his vision enough to see that Bobby was chambering for another hefty punch. The younger man steadied himself against the counter and clenched a fist in retaliation, but his oppressor was faster and knocked him to the ground before he could even see it coming. "poo poo," Xavier spat. He could dimly taste blood in his mouth, his head was spinning and reality was whirling drunkenly around him, he felt the cold floor at his fingertips and everything was reeling out of control. Instinctively, he scrambled to get up but something heavy forced him back down, and he swept his foot across until he caught someone's leg and knocked it out from under them with a thud. There was profuse cursing and a sudden tight grip on Xavier's neck, as if he were being suffocated. Blindly, he threw a rain of punches at the blur in front of him, feeling his knuckles occasionally make successful contact with flesh. The grasp on his neck loosened enough for Xavier to break free and slide out of the way, but he felt someone grab him from behind. Thrashing about in an attempt to escape, Xavier let profanities spill liberally from his tongue, not realising that some of the others had stepped in to break up the brawl before security would be called in. But in a blaze of brute force, Bobby propelled himself away from the restraining efforts and slammed into Xavier, tackling a handful of nearby people to the ground in the process. Before Xavier could catch his breath, he was winded again by a swift knee to the chest. And as he felt someone else grab a hold of him, he lunged out once more to kick Bobby squarely in the gut. An explosion of swearwords filled the bar like a swarm of angry wasps, and just as Xavier heard the voice of a security guard, something scuffled about, then he felt an unexpected pressure pinning him down. Xavier could hear insults presumably directed at him, followed by barking orders, and as soon as the pressure was removed, he pushed himself upright to see Bobby dragged out by two police officers. Slumping woozily against the wall, Xavier coughed until he'd regained his breath. It wasn't more than a couple minutes before the police returned for him. "Stirring up trouble again, aren't you," he heard one of them remark, but he kept silent and only grimaced when they pulled him to his feet. "Looks like you'll be staying the night with me. Just like old times, eh?" "Shut up, Dad," Xavier slurred in annoyance, and the officer laughed. "Oh, you'll be thanking me later," the policeman drawled as he led his son out of the tavern and into the rainstorm. "The alternative would've been much, much worse."
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Apr 17, 2023 03:24
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| # ¿ May 14, 2024 15:15 |
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Slightly Lions posted:Crack open some boys with a cold one and give me your best bar/tavern brawl This was my flash rule btw
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Apr 17, 2023 10:28
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