I have a lot of vague ideas.
Only problem is I can't be arsed to do anything with them, and it seems such a waste...
I've tried turning them into stories, but I always get partway through and suddenly I become aware of all the other things I could be doing instead, and as I don't really need to write them, they never get anywhere.
So, anybody want them?
I'm sure I have more somewhere, but I've forgotten them for now.
Only problem is I can't be arsed to do anything with them, and it seems such a waste...
I've tried turning them into stories, but I always get partway through and suddenly I become aware of all the other things I could be doing instead, and as I don't really need to write them, they never get anywhere.
So, anybody want them?
He was dead. I saw him die, saw the knife slide through his neck.
I found him still, unmoving in an alleyway. Got down to him, started to fly him up.
He started wriggling as we were passing through a cloud, and I dropped him.
I landed almost onto a roof. Cracked my shins on the edge, flipping me round to leave a nice bloody indent of my face into the brick. Landed with a splash, in a puddle
Everything faded into black.
Took a shaky, shuddering breath. A while later, took another.
I found him still, unmoving in an alleyway. Got down to him, started to fly him up.
He started wriggling as we were passing through a cloud, and I dropped him.
I landed almost onto a roof. Cracked my shins on the edge, flipping me round to leave a nice bloody indent of my face into the brick. Landed with a splash, in a puddle
Everything faded into black.
Took a shaky, shuddering breath. A while later, took another.
"He was dead."
"Yes."
"You saw him die."
"Yes."
"You are absolutely sure he was dead."
"Yes, I checked for a pulse, brain activity, everything."
"Then how the hell did he wake up?!"
"I-I don't know!"
"Well what are you still doing here? Go! Find out how the hell he is still alive, and then kill him!"
"Yes."
"You saw him die."
"Yes."
"You are absolutely sure he was dead."
"Yes, I checked for a pulse, brain activity, everything."
"Then how the hell did he wake up?!"
"I-I don't know!"
"Well what are you still doing here? Go! Find out how the hell he is still alive, and then kill him!"
Every day, another death.
Every day, another confused, sorrowful spirit I have to support.
Every day, another bereaved family with one less member.
Every. Fucking. Day. Another person I could have saved.
Every day, another confused, sorrowful spirit I have to support.
Every day, another bereaved family with one less member.
Every. Fucking. Day. Another person I could have saved.
There's the box. On my table. I get a drink out of the fridge, and look at the box while sipping my drink. I finish my drink, and glare at the box.
The box doesn't glare back. It just sits there.
I get another drink. Drink half of it. The box does nothing.
I put the drink in front of the box.
The box does nothing.
I put the drink on top of the box.
The box does nothing.
I go to work. Utterly boring day, nothing happens.
I get home again. The drink I put on the box is empty.
I replace the empty glass with pizza, and go to bed.
I don't dare sleep.
The box doesn't glare back. It just sits there.
I get another drink. Drink half of it. The box does nothing.
I put the drink in front of the box.
The box does nothing.
I put the drink on top of the box.
The box does nothing.
I go to work. Utterly boring day, nothing happens.
I get home again. The drink I put on the box is empty.
I replace the empty glass with pizza, and go to bed.
I don't dare sleep.
I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamt of a box. A completely ordinairy box, apart from the fact that it was pure white, the whitest white I've ever seen.
It sat, on my table.
The day passed, and everybody ignored it, except my cat. The cat glared at it, and I could almost feel the intense contempt, could almost see it, in that white hot glare from my cat.
I woke up a short while later, and went downstairs, half expecting the box to be on my table.
I was right, kind of. Strewn across my table were shards of purest white, with deep claw marks gouged into them. My cat sat next to them, and pawed a piece meaningfully.
It sat, on my table.
The day passed, and everybody ignored it, except my cat. The cat glared at it, and I could almost feel the intense contempt, could almost see it, in that white hot glare from my cat.
I woke up a short while later, and went downstairs, half expecting the box to be on my table.
I was right, kind of. Strewn across my table were shards of purest white, with deep claw marks gouged into them. My cat sat next to them, and pawed a piece meaningfully.
I'm sure I have more somewhere, but I've forgotten them for now.