Love On Repeat
Prologue by @RLWarrick1
It wasn’t the first time he had met her. Hell, it wasn’t the fifth, and it sure wouldn’t be the last. Each time, her face was different, but the soul remained the same, and each time there was a mistake. Luckily for him, it seemed her memories did not transfer, and here he was.
One more chance.
First Act by @bebby3862
His heart stopped a moment when she saw him, sure some part of her recognized him. Her eyes were green now, the color of envy. There was a faint scar where another face was cut.
“Do you have the time?” he asked as he always did. When she looked at her watch he gave the signal.
Second Act by @MicheleQuirke
At his command, both his brothers moved in on her. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t fight them. If she had, they’d all be dead.
“It’s going to be ok, Justine.” He shut the trunk and wiped the beads of sweat off his brow. “This time will be different. This time, you’ll remember.”
Third Act by @canuckclick
“Are you sure this one doesn’t have the same flaws?”
He ignored his brother. If he was wrong, then they’d hide this body and find where her soul went. He couldn’t give up hope that he’d get her, the real her, back again. He threw the switch.
Lightening flew, and he prayed.
Epilogue by @WritesJodi
The current coursed through the borrowed body, Justine’s soul fractured, another piece lost to the void.
In that moment, she was aware. She had to make him stop or there’d be nothing of her left. The gag muffled her screams. Her soul was ripped from the dying body.
Whale of A Tale
Prologue by @WritesJodi
“Research vessel Deep Blue compromised and taking on water. Send help immediately.”
Dani translated the message and was reaching for the phone when another burst of code came over the line. She scribbled furiously.
“Something in the water. Is that a–?”
The line went dead.
First Act by @bebby3862
“Commander!” Dani called initiating emergency protocols.
“Sitrep?” he asked.
“Not sure. Look at the footage.”
“My God! Have you ever seen anything like it?”
“The night Stevens went missing, sir.”
“What’s it doing?”
Static crackled on the radio. They could make out just one word.
Second Act by @canuckclick
“Someone is alive. We need to get to them before it kills them!” Dani waited for the order to proceed.
A bling on the radar distracted them before he could say anything. “There’s something else out there. Not sure what.”
“Proceed with caution. Full alert.”
They dove to the rescue
Third Act by @WeAreMarsBook
The creature came into view.
“What’s it doing?”
“Making a whirlpool. The submersible is in the middle!”
“It’s lifting it! Quick, get a grapple line out. We can grab it, pull it into the cargo hold.”
“Aye, commander! The whale saved them.”
“Aye! It did. Now go see who’s in there.”
Epilogue by @SandyRStuckless
Dani climbed up to the main hatch of the submersible. After a moment’s struggle, she got the hatch open.
“Who’s in there?” the skipper called down.
Dani laughed and shook her head. “Stevens, you lucky SOB. You’re going to have one whale of a tale at the debrief!”
Arts and Aliencraft
Prologue by @canuckclick
Arts and crafts. It was a juvenile activity and we hated it. Those stupid safety scissors, cheap construction paper, and terrible instructions. Nothing ever turned out the way it was supposed to and the councilors kept insisting we were all such talented artists. Bullshit.
1st Act by @WritesJodi
“Are there any more paper clips?”
Miss Amy dropped a box in the middle of our table. “Whatcha making?”
I leaned over to hide the blueprint. “You’ll see.” As soon as she walked away, I whispered to my three cohorts. “If we can’t go to them, we’ll bring them to us.”
2nd Act by @RLWarrick1
A stroke of genius, some may call it. But we knew better. These gifts were never ours. They were borrowed from the very beings we would call on tonight, and they wouldn’t have much choice but to answer. An hr passed, maybe two, and before us was an item familiar yet foreign.
Final Act by @WritesJodi
We arranged the paper clips in a spiraling circle with a bottle of milk in the center and summoned the toddler. At least, he looked like a toddler. Wouldn’t Miss Amy and the other counselors be surprised when they learned the bottle drinking baby in our skit was a thousand year old alien.
Epilogue by @WordsBySC
Its babbles would have been cute to any others, but to us it brought a different excitement.
And we knew, tomorrow, what it would finish saying before it summoned the ancient ones so we never had to do crafts again.
Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn
Rock, Paper, Scissors
Prologue by crmetheus1974
“I do not kneel here in prayer. I do so in memory of the moment I became the last to survive this horror. We had always run, yet faceless it always came. Always from below, and always under the cover of darkness. I lay mark here so those who pass may know, on this night I run no more.”
First Act by WritesJodi
Book club was wrapping up, the 10 members had their newest title in hand, and were finishing drinks, when the sky suddenly darkened, and the house shook. The windows shattered, and the floor buckled. The door flew off the hinges, and a bulky shadow filled the entryway.
Second Act by MicheleQuirke
A deafening screech pierced the silence. As the figure lunged forward, it’s hood flew back to reveal a ghastly shadow where it’s face should’ve been. It’s claws dug into the shoulders of the youngest member, and dragged her, kicking and screaming, into the basement below.
Final Act by canuckclick
They couldn’t leave their friend in the clutches of that beast. Rock, paper, scissors decided who went first into the dark basement. They found it kneeling over the girl, blood everywhere. It looked at them, sorrow in its eyes and they turned on each other. Driven to destroy.
Epilogue by RLWarrick1
Bloodied and beaten the two remaining members stepped out of the darkness. Sunlight struck their eyes, but the hope it gave was a lie. Disheartened, they let out a sigh. “How many until it ends?” “I don’t know. Time to find more members.” “I’m not cleaning it this time.” “Rock, paper, scissors?”
This is the only part left of a story I wrote ten years ago. I will be writing it again in the near future.
The crowd was louder than ever now, gathered around the fire as it crept towards his body. There was no doubt in his mind that he had been fooled and he cursed the beast still receiving no answer. He would die here tonight. He thought of what he had said earlier as he looked Death in the eye and didn’t receive an answer. Irony. He was the foolish one for trusting such a creature, that gave commands, and now did not make it’s presence known. Would their god be so forgiving to him as talked about amongst the villagers? Would he-
The fire as it swept across his feet, the flames searing his flesh. The pain stabbing at him now, and screams were forced from his mouth as the flames crept upwards. The burning parts of his body became seemingly numb as his nerve endings were blackened, and still the fire grew. A villager spit at him, but it did not anger him, he would have loved to feel any type of coolness. Slowly he faded in and out of consciousness as his tormentors cheered at the sight of his pain. Higher and higher the flames grew, but death still evaded him. He prayed in his mind for the end, for death, for any kind of comfort. As the charred parts of his body grew numb the flames grew higher engulfing a new space in screaming torment, bringing him endless torture and sick comfort at the same time. Then he felt it.
He had been waiting for it for what seemed like hours, and finally it showed it’s beautiful face. As he felt himself fade, he noticed something very odd. He was no longer burning, well his body was, as he watched from behind the villagers feeling no pain. The beast had not forsaken him after all.
This would be fun.
One day our time will pass. It is an inevitability most do not want to think about. After that time, what remains are stories. We are all writers. Some of us wield pen and paper. Some of us, a keyboard, but all of us write our stories on the vast sheet of blank paper we call life. What is left are the words of those we leave behind. They are our storytellers. Ultimately it is up to us what words they will speak when our name is floating on the air. I hope the stories my son tells are full of laughter, amazement, and inspiration.
With all of this being said, be you. The real you. Don’t let anyone tell you that you aren’t good enough for anything. Be unashamed to be yourself. Never surrender life. Let life surrender you and leave in your wake the words that you want your storytellers to speak. Make them laugh, make them cry, make them remember who you truly were in life. Because you are worth it.