This is a game where one person writes a short story, however long you want it to be, and then the next person takes the last sentence of the previous story and takes it in a new direction.
Rules:
(made a little short thing on the spot to kick it off)
I once cared what was said to me. But today I decided I did not.
No one else seemed to notice. They tried to talk to me. I don't remember what they said, obviously; I decided I don't care anymore, I wasn't paying attention. But they kept trying.
Someone shouted something, (I wouldn't know that it was my name, of course, I don't care what people say to me), and with the loudness of their voice I flinched. I was horrified with myself. How dare I break my rule.
If I could not hold myself to my laws, then I would make disobedience impossible. I didn't need my ears anymore. What good were they for now anyway?
Why does everyone look so surprised? Maybe I don't want my eyes either.
"Maybe I don't want my eyes either!" Thaine shouts from where he's currently being dangled over a boiling vat of god-knows-what. He's surrounded on all sides by brutish trolls with a very trusting campanion bound to his back. Dear, lovely, accident-prone Dehlia had gotten them into this mess. She had even offered up her eyeballs to the trolls, praying that the price for her artificial eyes would suffice as a "flavoring" for their stew. Of course, Thaine's own eyes are nothing but human–little fish eggs for the monstrosities to slurp in one go. Truth be told, Thaine had not been thinking when he offered his eyes to the trolls. At least Dehlia has the ability to regenerate them.
"Are you stupid??" She hisses, thrashing and wriggling and pulling at the ropes that bind them. Thaine doesn't point out that if the ropes are severed, they go falling directly into their deaths. "You should never do any talking. Ever!"
To the best of his limited ability, Thaine shrugs. "I don't know! I'm just trying to help!"
Thaine shruged. "I don't know! I'm just trying to help!"
"But you're not helping, so just run along and play with your toys." His mother said, patting him on the head with a gloved hand. She had just pulled a cake out of the oven and Thaine was trying to mix colors for the frosting.
"Please momma, I can fix it. I can do it. please." Thaine's three year old fingers where covered in purple(his favorite color) frosting dye.
Momma looked down at Thaine. "No. absolutely not. Final decision."
“No. Absolutely not. Final decision.”
“Jacob, you know as well as I do we don’t have another plan!” I argued, annoyed with the boy’s stubbornness, “I know it’s risky, but it’s a risk worth taking—“
“NOT TO ME!”
I stopped and snapped my mouth shut, staring at Jacob in shock as he glared back. We held gazes for a moment before his composure broke, and he slumped, his expression collapsing into something broken and vulnerable.
“Not to me, it isn’t,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, “Abby, I can’t… I can’t lose you, okay?”
“I… Jacob, you’re not,” I assured him quickly, swooping in to wrap my arms around him, “I swear, you’re not. I’ve been in worse; we’ve been in worse…”
“But what if something happens?” he grabbed my hands tightly and looked into my eyes. Fear and uncertainty radiated from him so palpable that I wanted to hold him and never let go. Slowly, he leaned forward so that our foreheads rested against each other. I didn’t pull away.
“If something happens,” he whispered, “Then I won’t be there to help you.”
“Then you come after me,” I replied, giving him an encouraging smile as I squeezed his hands, “You come after me, and you don’t stop. You find me; you save me. I know you would anyway, and I know you can.”
"…and I know you can."
I only heard the last part of his sentence, but I knew he wouldn't budge.
"I'm too old for this," I say.
"Come on, soccer tryouts aren't something you grow out of."
I sigh and get out of the car. There are already kids warming up in the field. Most of them look like they could be middle schoolers.
They were even wearing shin guards, which was an advantage for them, I guess.
Maybe I just feel like kicking people.
Maybe I just feel like kicking people.
Because that’s honestly how I’m feeling as of late. I wouldn’t really kick people of course, as hard as it was to resist the temptation. I felt like I had a little angel and devil on my shoulders at this point, but even the angel was beginning to feel tested by the arrogant and argumentative nature of my fellow survivors.
That’s how I thought, kicking a small pebble down the alleyway. The air was cool and the skies were grey, and by gods did they match how I felt right now.
It’ll pass, Charlie. I need to remind myself that there are good people in this settlement, that we’re all just stressed out.
But even as I tell myself that, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep lying.
"I'm not sure how much longer i can keep lying." I say as i pull off a wig and fake mustache.
two weeks ago my bestie JJ asked me to pose as his dad for a parent teacher conference. Obviously i agreed, but little did i know the things i would do for him. Or that the teacher was the hottest chick in the nation.
"Just a little longer, there is only 2 weeks left in the semester anyway." JJ said as i wiped off the aging makeup his sister had done on me. But enough was enough.
"No! I am done sleeping with your teacher just so you can have an A"