Thoughts Before Sleep

Posted on February 13, 2014 by nickkaufman16 under Realistic, Short stories, Writing Prompts

by Nick Kaufman

There’s the chair. And the stereo. The door. My entire room slowly coming into focus, each shape revealing itself from its one-way window. Slower and slower, I do not move and yet I can feel myself beginning to pass through, in this darkness, as though I were slowly being overtaken by a wall of black water.

I close my eyes once more and breathe, imagining myself laying here in my bed, waiting for this submersion to be complete. This has been my ritual for the past hour. Or has it been a half hour? Two hours? It appears I am further than I thought: Time is dead.

I open my eyes and look around the room. Every object is clearly defined now, I can see everything. The submersion is complete. I have entered this dark realm. And now that I have brushed past the black veil, I see that this place favors a quer blue-ish glow which bathes my surroundings in a blue haze.

Safety. Calm. Peace. Present

Only these exist in this universe created be the void. My mind expands infinitely, exploring multiple caverns – each with its own railroad. And as one locomotive leave its station, my mind leaps atop the rood and travels with the car. My conscious thoughts race back and forth in a sea of invisible gears and metal which can only be produced from the legendary forges of the mind, providing a myriad of stepping stones – each shattering upon contact. The fragments scattering, some are lost, but others are retained and pursued. Continue reading →

That Great Pinball Wizard in the Sky

Posted on January 30, 2014 by michaellutzker12 under Realistic, Short stories, Uncategorized

by Michael Lutzker

Here’s a crudely constructed stream of consciousness, in need of editing, perhaps. Hopefully I don’t come off mentally insane or inebriated. But here goes:

I’ve been thinking a lot about God lately. My thoughts have been rattling around between my ears, like in a pinball machine, setting off an array of alarms and buzzers left and right in some way you just can’t understand how. And you are just frantically, jamming on that plunger as if that little metal ball was your life, and you can’t take your eyes off the lights and you can’t hear anything but those sounds, man, those buzzers. You don’t know what they mean, or how you trigger them, but they are satisfying, and you seek them out through experimentation. You just keep jamming that button on the side frantically to keep that ball up, as if your life depended on it. Then eventually, either because your pulsating finger fails you or because, and you swear, that the machine is broken, that metal ball cascades down out of reach of the lever. But you insert another quarter, eyes still transfixed, and a ring of foamy saliva below your lower lip, and try it again. One game flows into the next, without stammer. Thoughts continue to rattle and roll and swirl. Next thing you know you’ve spent half the afternoon away and are down $18.75 in quarters. But that’s life, sometimes.

Anyway, I’ve been having mind-boggling thoughts life the one evidenced just now all weekend. Maybe I’m just sobering up after a semester-long adrenaline high, but the thoughts are coming in like a broken gumball machine, and I’m slippin’ and slidin’ all over these gumballs in slapstick fashion trying to plug up the hole but can’t seem to make any forward progress. It’s really quite comical, and everyone’s getting a good laugh this weekend, because I’m really tickling a lot of funny bones and being abnormally chatty with meek acquaintances. It seems as though I cannot interact with anybody without sounding like a drunk boss toasting all his neglected employees and getting a little grabby with the female secretaries at the annual Christmas Party. Continue reading →

The Other Side

Posted on January 21, 2014 by srreloj under Realistic, Short stories, Uncategorized, Writing Prompts

by Christian Theodossy

I see them.

I see them through the fog. Behind the glass. Across the vastness of a chasm.

They say things to each other, things I want to hear, things I have to hear.

But they’re too far away, the fog is too thick. I can’t break through.

I try to say something to them, just so they’ll know I’m here, but I’m too quiet, they don’t hear me.

I’ll say it a little louder, maybe they’ll hear this time.

They don’t.

I shout, and a few of them look around like they noticed something.

But still, the glass stands. Unbreakable.

But I have to hear. I have to know.

So I work up as much voice as I can, and I take a deep breath.

And I shout. Continue reading →

Definition of evil

Posted on January 16, 2014 by sophisticatedsphinx under Realistic, Writing Prompts

By, Jack Joseph

I’m fairly certain you can figure out which prompt to written this is in response, but if not, this is for the “evil” prompt.

__________

What is evil? The Oxford English Dictionary (yes, I looked it up before writing this) defines evil as “morally depraved, bad, wicked, or vicious.” It’s a fine definition, but it lacks specificity about “morality.” I believe Kant has the right take on it, or at least comes close. The German philosopher sees evil as using other people as a means unto an end. One should see that each person has their own intentions and beliefs and that each person is an end in and of themselves, not a means to fulfill one’s own intent. Continue reading →

Window Seats

Posted on November 28, 2013 by breachingwhale under Realistic, Short stories

by Alan Osmundson

The landscape passed him in an incomprehensible blur. It fascinated him, how if he focused his eyes in a certain manner, he could tell what he was passing, and how if not, it all merged into a single swath of colors.

His fixation was broken as the train passed over a stone lying on the track, causing a mild but noticeable jolt. As he tore his gaze from the window he saw a woman sitting across him whom he had not noticed before. Her eyes pointed down into a book that appeared to be a fantasy novel. He observed her for some time as she read, an occasional smile rising to her lips, a subtle smile that wasn’t distracting, but just nice enough to brighten anyone’s day.

Then, as if by some act of extra-sensory perception, she looked up at him as he stared back and gave him that same smile, as well as an inaudible laugh. He attempted to reciprocate, but was unable to muster more than an unsightly grimace before she became absorbed by her book once more.

Disappointed, he turned back to the window and let the colors pass by again.

After some time, her voice tore his eyes from the window.

“Where are you headed towards?” Continue reading →

Leaves

Posted on November 24, 2013 by YOUFACEJARAXXUS under Realistic, Short stories, Writing Prompts

I have to say, this was somewhat expected. Throughout all of my adolescence, adults have always told me, “Wear a helmet! You think you don’t need it, but some day it might save your life!” As the usual stubborn ass that I was, I refused to listen. Yet here I am, eyes glued to the sky, helmetless head on the concrete, laying limp in a pool of my own warm, trickling blood. My crumpled bicycle is out of my line of sight, although I think it’s gone. So is the car, so is the crying family that saw the accident, the paramedics who deemed me already lost. All gone. Though these events seemed to last mere minutes, everyone has left me here. Continue reading →

Scenic Route 1

Posted on November 23, 2013 by Daxxxid under Realistic, Short stories, Writing Prompts

Written in response to the Death prompt. This piece was also inspired by a true story of a family friend, dramatized and injected with a bit of Gatsby-esque feelings that I had on the experience.

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I came to the new country with hope for a new life. But now, suspended an inch above the water, time stops, and I realize the new life has ended.

The first months were difficult for me. I came with my husband to a land of a garish culture and alien noise. The English that I had learned in school back at home sounded nothing like the street talk here. When I opened my lips to speak, corners of mouths turned upwards mockingly and bade me shut my lips back closed. When I came to my job in the small shop, the pale faces glared at me, and companionship was scarce. But here was the land where wallets swelled larger than the Mother Ocean and spirits rose higher than the Father Sun. If I tried hard enough, I knew, the new country would find a way for me to achieve greatness. Continue reading →