The Prompt Challenge!!

[Crystal Tears]

The Prompt Challenge
Mod Approved!

The idea behind this thread is simple – many of us, both big time writers and the newcomers to this board sometimes find it horribly difficult to get their hands on inspiration, creativity, reviews and constructive criticism.

This thread is designed to provide all of the above - I have hidden away somewhere… a list of 100 prompts that can spur on creativity. These prompts are meant to inspire you to write as much or as little as you wish, whatever comes to mind. After you successfully write something, you post it here! In this thread and others who’re participating will read and reply accordingly.

However, nothing like a little challenge right? Each prompt will be like the spur to post a chapter – meaning each of your blurbs, however big or small, must link to each other in some way. They don’t have to go in order - if the first prompt creates chapter 13 and not 1, so be it.

Each participant has around a week to post their writings, and each week a new prompt will be given. If you get into this later, you do not have to go back and read the previous posts, but you will be expected to give comments on whatever’s posted after yours. This idea is based around learning and expanding, if you’re not willing to help out, then please don’t post a blurb. It’s not fair to those who do post their prompt-blurbs and give their thoughts.

As for the prompts, there will be a chance they’re different for each person. Posting you’d like to participate, I’ll send you a PM with the prompt and its number. It is up to you to keep track of the numbers you were given as to not get the same one again.

And no, you cannot trade with someone or ask for a different one (unless the one given to you it really causing problems), as a part of this is to challenge yourself.

I will however, attempt to link to your prompt-chapters after their posted and update the main page. Also please inform me of the order they’re in. I can then rearrange them so your ‘chapters’ are in relatively correct order.

Note: While there’s no real limit of how long or how little you can write, please don’t go writing a novel on one prompt. XD Nor, a single sentence.

HAPPY PROMPTING!

List – o – Rules
(courtesy of ChobiChibi)

- Given prompt in PM by Crystal Tears
- Will have approximately a week to complete prompt
- When completed, post in this topic
- Everyone who is participating must be willing to read and reply to prompts.
- Each prompt must be part of a chapter in a bigger fic.
- But prompts don't have to be in order.
- If you're not willing to comment on others' work, don't ask for prompts!


xX Participants Xx

Crystal Tears
Planning at its Finest
Pichu Luver
ChobiChibi
mattbcl
Enforcer
Weasel Overlord

[Pichu Luver]

LOL. My number is... coincidental, but I will attempt to make it ironical.

BTW for my musing-ly muddled mind, these prompts will only relate to create to our OWN ongoing story right? They don't link up to other's writing, correct?

[Crystal Tears]

Yes, link only to your own story... otherwise it would be... getting real close to... an RPG... XDD

[mattbcl]

Sign me up!

[Crystal Tears]

Awesome! PM sent! >w<

[Weasel Overlord]

I think I'd like to participate! Is there a given length for stuff, or can it be like, a drabble (100 words)?

And once we've written them, the whole text goes in this thread?

[Crystal Tears]

There's no real limit to the length, just as it says: not to short and not to long. *shrug* Really, it should be long enough for people to comment on but not to long as to dissuade them from reading the entire thing. ^^; I hope that helps, I'm not really putting a number as a limiter.

And yes, the entire thing gets posted in this thread. (:

Hope everything is going well for people!

[mattbcl]

Okay, so here's what I came up with for my first prompt. Given that this is fanfiction, I don't know whether I should offer background or just let readers figure it out for themselves... but credit where it's due, so material derived is from the Marvel universe.

--------------------------

Enforcer

-

They were glowing.

That was the first thing I thought of when I ran inside and saw his face. Well, not the entire thing, of course - a good half of it was obscured by that absurd purple mask. Why on Earth he thought that would be a decent cover is a mystery to me, but thieves and burglars generally have never struck me as exceptionally bright. Don't these people know that technology can extrapolate their appearance using details like eye color, the build of the chin, the shape of the lips, nose, and so on? Doesn't seem like it to me.

Well, maybe it doesn't matter whether he was wearing a mask or not. Purple and green, that's a fashion statement that's begging to be noticed out on the streets. Especially in Peoria. This guy's agenda wasn't about avoiding being spotlighted. It was simply meant to get the point across. Here's how it goes, right? "I'm a burglar, I'm going to steal from you now, and this weapon in my hands is all I need to make sure it happens without a fight."

Come to think of it, I really don't know what I was expecting. Every single pane of glass had been shattered in some spectacular explosion that would have defied reasoning by any forensic specialist. Glass had been blown both into and out of the building, and how that was possible, I couldn't begin to guess.

But at that moment, it didn't really matter to me. It wasn't what I was thinking about. I had a job and I was going to do it. Someone was knocking over a bank? No way. Not on my watch. And lucky I happened to be in the area, patrolling over near the mall when it was happening - the bank was just right across the highway. So I was the first responder.

Lucky me.

I ran inside with my weapon drawn. I could see a couple of customers huddling on the floor, underneath one of the booths where they'd probably been filling out paperwork for transactions. They looked frightened but not hurt. As long as they were safe, the primary concern was out of the way, for now - but the secondary concern was standing tall, up next to the sealed vault door. I brought my gun to bear on him. He had his back turned, but he was huge, and I knew enough to stay well outside his range... looked like he could backhand me from halfway across the lobby. Idiot that I was, I should have known the moment I jumped out of my car to wait for backup, but I was too eager. Plus... I don't know, all that glass and everything, I wondered if maybe it was some kind of explosion, a gas line or something. Yeah, that wasn't too bright an assumption, either, I see that now. But I'm not sure I can help it. I wanted to help anybody who might have been trapped inside.

So, anyway, weapon drawn, and I shout, "Police! Hands on your head!" Boy, did I sound a lot braver than I felt. Somehow, I knew this guy wasn't going to freeze, or put his hands on his head, or do anything else I told him to do, but I had to wait before he made his move... rules of engagement and all that.

He turned around and looked at me the way Hitler would have looked at an ant. But that stare in and of itself wasn't what got to me, and it wasn't the condescending smirk that grew across his face underneath it, either. I was used to looks like that, got 'em all the way through school. No... it was those eyes. They weren't just a different color than I'm used to seeing, those things were glowing with the rage of all the lightning in the sky. It was almost like sparks were coming out of them, as stupid as that might sound.

He had this giant crowbar in his hand. It occurred to me then that he'd probably used it to ram through the glass windows and just sweep all the shards he made in any direction they'd care to go, probably to scare the folks inside. He was using the crowbar - just this strange, massive crowbar - to pry the vault door out of its moorings. Even more absurd, he was actually succeeding. There was this awful gash in the metal, that should never have been created by a tool like that in the first place. He shouldn't have had the strength to jam it into that thick steel, and it should have bent and broken off, but it was the vault that was giving up the fight.

The sparks in those eyes weren't for nothing. They weren't just some dandy special effect.

This guy... this guy had the power of God Himself inside him.

And he was ripping off a bank.

I pulled the trigger, I don't know how many times, but I wasn't done pulling it even after my clip was out. I wasn't even really watching where I was aiming. Figure I didn't really have to, there was no way I was missing a target that size. But with every shot, the power surging in his gaze just kept getting brighter and more angry, until whatever energy was in them seemed to merge across the bridge of his nose and suddenly I'm looking at one eye instead of two. Suddenly I feel something smashing into my ribs... I guess I learned at that moment what the feeling of your entire ribcage shattering into a billion pieces feels like... and I hit something hard with my back.

Last thing I remember seeing was those eyes, looking down at me, and hearing him laughing. He didn't say a word. Didn't have to.

Whatever he is, all I know is I'm not strong enough to stop him. You train to be a police officer, you don't train to run into guys like him. Seems petty, doesn't it, for someone with that much power to knock over a bank? What does he need the money for? You'd figure he could make a decent living pretty much any other way.

Well... first thing is, when he gets brought in, put a blindfold on him.

... So, what is this place, anyway? Looks like an aircraft carrier.

End

[Gavin Luper]

Good work with this Sie - stickying the thread for you. Good luck with the prompts, everyone. I'll try to join in on one soon.

[Crystal Tears]

Thanks Gav!

Alrighty then! I have appeared! XD Don’t worry Matt you won’t be the only one with a prompt up for long, I have emerged to stand proudly at your side!

I like what you’ve written, especially the description of how the buglar’s eyes merge into one as his power(s) grow. I don’t find how you’ve written especially awkward or muddled (you mentioned your concern on facebook). I think it’s easy enough to read.

The ending confuses me, it comes outta nowhere but I think that’s kind of the point. XD Especially if the character himself is confused.

I did find that line that confused me, it’s ‘This guy's agenda wasn't about avoiding being spotlighted.’ That to me is just really awkwardly worded, but maybe it’s because I’m not used to reading anything written in first person? It works well with what comes after but my brain for whatever reason finds that line hard to read.

Hope anything I’ve said helps Keep it up; your writing always has a way of leaving me wanting more. xD

GAME OVER

Planning at its Finest

Something had, at some point during her master plan – gone horribly, horrible wrong.

Note: The original part of the plan was simple – locate opponents, engage opponents, beat opponents. Yes, it had for all intents and purposes been a plan that she could be content with. There was no fancy plot, idea, scheme, coo, confounding ploy, or overwhelmingly complicated strategy to this. And for the first half of the night, she had been marked with success.

Kite had met his sorry demise on a playground three hours earlier - impaled on the sergeant’s sword. Next had been Starkiller – new to the game, he should’ve, in Lightning’s mind, really put more effort into sensing incoming danger. The last success story of the night had been Crash Bandicoot, who really had killed himself. Lightning had basically chased him to the edge of an apartment building and he – in his own spinning fury, had tumbled off.

But she had gotten the kill, so Lightning didn’t mind the stupidity.

Three kills, two of them within an hour of each other. The pink-haired participant had been rewarded with an additional 25% experience for the rest of the night. Crash hadn’t been particularly high leveled, meaning the experience and credit Lightning had made from the kill hadn’t amounted to much – even with the boost.

So, she had gone searching for stronger prey.


That’s how she ended up in the situation she was in now.

“Urgh…” She groaned, dangling from the hilt of her sword - nothing below her feet for the next thousand feet.

This… probably required some sort of explanation.

In a desperate attempt to not lose a life a minute ago, she had stabbed her fantastical blade into the building wall. The sword had slipped easily between the two massive windows of the skyscraper and jammed in place.

Now, she hung rather helplessly, scrambling to get a better grip on her weapon. About twenty feet up was the top of the building, something she had fallen off half-purposely due to the fact that a rather short but effective blade had nearly pierced her jugular.

The wind bit at her as it blew, making her sway dangerously. She barely managed to hear the chuckling coming from above her. Gritting her teeth she glared up, spotting her foe.

“Well,” He stood on the very edge, tip of his boot showing just over the threshold. His face was shrouded by the darkness of the hood of his white cloak. A red sash was tied around his waist; with a thick brown belt overtop that. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that.”

“Quiet.” She retorted, focusing her attention back on her predicament. She tightened her hold with her right hand and brought her left up, grasping the top of her blade. The sword didn’t budge – far stronger than its fantasy appearance deemed.

“Why don’t you just give up?” He questioned, pacing the edge a bit. Lightning didn’t look at him, just continued to force herself up. He snorted, plucking a small knife from his belt; he twirled it in one hand before he whipped it downwards.

There was a sharp bite of a blade’s edge cutting her cheek and Lightning hissed, turning her head instinctually. The cut was quick to turn crimson and begin to leak a faint amount of blood. Through her rose-coloured bangs she glared hellfire down on him.

‘Bastard…’ Lightning thought, lifting herself up. She stood rather awkwardly on her blade, staring up at her opponent.

He was waiting for her to jump.

Her eyes narrowed.

He wouldn’t expect this.

Electric energy gathered around her hand, and instinctively he backed up – ready to dodge the magical attack. But the attack didn’t come at him, instead she thrust her hand forward and the lightning bolt snapped and crashed into the window. The glass instantly shattered into thousands of pieces, most of them falling down towards the street below.

Before her opponent could fling another knife down to throw her off balance, Lightning leapt inside. She pivoted once her foot was back on solid ground, bending down and tearing her blade from its wedged spot.

She had barely stood up when he was there – swinging in, his two feet slammed hard into her chest. The air left her lungs in one surge, and she wheezed, flying backwards into the abandoned cubical. Despite her sheer lack of oxygen and direction, Lightning turned her tumble into a roll, recovering just fast enough to drop her own blade and catch the short one trying for her neck.

He grunted.

Lightning didn’t give any telling signs of her plan - her arm simply crackled back to life with electricity and suddenly her opponent was being fried. The force behind his knife dropped considerably as the electrical current coursed through his body. Taking her advantage, Lightning began to force him backwards towards the window.


Altair had had many considerably difficult battles. He found them far more entertaining than picking off the lowly players. Lightning had been the first true enemy he had faced in a while. She stood just a tad shorter then himself, clad in get-up that was typical for Final Fantasy. It was fashionable, attractive, but not at all practical for her occupation. Still, short skirt and exposed midriff aside – she was a formidable opponent.

He blocked every punch and jab she tried to hit him with, but still he was on the defensive. She wasn’t giving him any opportunities to bring the hidden blade back out, and any time his hand even travel relatively close to the hilt of his own sword, she would attempt to shatter his windpipe with a sharp blow – forcing him to block.

At least she didn’t have that damned gunblade.

Back on the edge of the shattered window, the melee duel was no closer to deciding a winner. Lightning was starting to get hits through, but so was he. Her lip was bleeding, and his nose was most probably broken. Bruises and scratches were showing, more-so on her because of the outfit, but Altair could feel pain beginning to radiate throughout his body.

Then it was there, an opening.

Altair took his chance.

The hidden blade popped out and he went for her heart.

There was a resounding clang as the blade hit a sword.

His sword! Held by his damn opponent! Lightning had stolen it when he had attacked.

His smirk faded, their eyes locked – vicious brown boring into electrified blue. She pushed away from him, not really an attempt to send him over the edge but it nearly worked. He planted his feet and used his years of training to keep his body from giving into dizzying vertigo and plummeting. Lightning back flipped, and landed next to her gunblade.

The assassin’s heart skipped, watching as the sword twisted and switched into a rather formidable rifle.

“Shit.” Was the single word that fell from his mouth.


Lightning didn’t hesitate a second longer – she opened fire.

[mattbcl]

I promise my next one is coming, it's just taking a while for it to make its way onto the paper (yes, I'm using paper and pen instead of teh WerdPadz!). Also a review for yours, Sie!

[Crystal Tears]

Mine is causing me problems! It's why I was afraid of trying out Game Over because there are so many damn people to try and keep relatively in character... We shall see what happens. XD

Becki's internetz is currently down, so that's why she's not making an appearance.

I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THE REST OF YOU~ Lol jokes, good luck people!

[Blue62]

*has discovered post button* I'm in ^^;

[Ghost]

I'm up to giving this a try. Count me in!

[Weasel Overlord]

Augh, methinks I'm gonna have to drop out of this! Sorry Sie, I just have no inspiration at all lately D:

[mattbcl]

Okay, my critique for Sie, since my writing is still going slowly...

It's action-packed, to be sure. It does seem a trifle difficult to keep Lightning and Altair in character, especially since it's been my estimation that neither one of them has ever been blessed with an abundance of personality - mostly they're cold-blooded killers. Most of what you wrote centers around the battle itself, which is probably for the best. You did mention from the "perspective" of Altair, however (this is assuming that his train of thought is leading the narrative), that Lightning's garb was typical of Final Fantasy, which leads me to ask how he would know or be aware of her universe, or that it has that specific name. On the other hand, you did say you had a plan for all this, so I'll wait and see what it is.

Other than that, and minor grammatical mistakes here and there, it's a fun read. Keep it up!

And I think I'm going to change my format a little bit for my posts. I'm already very late with my prompt (I know it was supposed to be a weekly thing) but I'm not going to give up on it. I'm going to make it a little more creative than before. Keep an eye out!

[Ghost]

Thank you so much to Crystal Tears for the prompt, you really got my ideas going, even though the prompt was about Flowers

If it helps anyone's visualization, I imagined Michael as Michael Fassbender and Anna as Yvonne Strahowski

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flowers

Chapter 1

October 18, 2006

"Anna, honey, you really need to stop doing this."

Michael smiled big as the words left his mouth, approaching his wife who stood in the middle of the crowded New York City restaurant. She looked absolutely stunning, with her long blue dress accentuating her perfectly tanned skin and long blonde hair. And in her hands, of course, was the customary bouquet of stargazer lilies she bought him to commemorate their anniversary.

Michael took the flowers from her and set them aside, grabbing his wife and pulling her close to him. He stared in to her bright blue eyes, taking in this special moment, and then passionately embraced her. It had been ten years since they had first married, and Michael grew to love her more each and every day.

"I love you, Anna." He said, staring once more into her eyes.

Anna gave him a big smile, showing off those beautiful teeth that she had. "I love you too, Michael."

They both took their seats and began to sip the wine Anna had ordered before Michael arrived. The wine was poor tasting, but just being here with Anna had made everything in the world seem alright. Michael dazed off and lost himself in her beauty before she broke the silence that had developed between them.

"How was work today, hon?"

Ugh. Just the mention of the crowded boardrooms, long days, and constant phonecalls made him sick. He was the Assisstant General Manager of the New York Mets, who were currently in the National League Championship Series against the Cardinals. This meant that the managers and players were frantically preparing for the game that occured that night; luckily, Mr. Minaya had given him the night off.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Omar panicking all day about us getting eliminated at home, me having to calm him down, meeting with Willie... All stuff that I could care less about." Michael said with a smile.

"I never could understand why you took that job..." Anna began, taking another sip of her wine. "You loathe everything about baseball, yet you took a job that requires you to basically run a team!"

They both enjoyed a large laugh, and quickly ordered their food from the approaching waiter. Michael wanted nothing to interrupt their special night.

"Mmmmm, I can't wait to get you home tonight." Michael grinned as he moved his hand on to her inner thigh.

"Michael!" She whisphered playfully, slapping his hand away. "You can wait, babe. I promise you that I will make tonight worth the wait." She winked suggestively at him at the conclusion of her sentence.

He let out a chuckle and moved his face close to her ear. "You can't just say things like that and expect me to want to wait..." He made sure to blow on her neck before he pulled away ,sending shivers down her spine.

"You're a bad boy, Michael." Anna said, this time placing her hand on Michael's inner thigh and slowly moving upward.

Michael took her hand and removed it from his thigh before she could move any further. "Unh uh uhhhh!" He said, let out a huge smile. "If I don't get to tease you, then you don't get to tease me."

Before Anna could reply, the worst possible sound in the world began to play. Michael looked down in horror at his pants, then back at Anna. He had forgot to turn off his cell phone.

Michael stuttered to try and apologize, but before he could say anything, Anna had already chimed in. "Honey, it's fine. Go ahead and take it."

Michael nodded and bowed his head in thanks, and then picked up the phone. "Michael Wilson speaking."

"Hey, Mikey!" A slurred voice said over the phone. Michael recognized it instantly.

It was his brother, David.

"David," Michael began, already annoyed. "I'm kinda in the middle of something. It's Anna and I's anniversary." Michael turned around and mouthed an apology to Anna.

"Oh, hey man, that's totally why I called! Happy anniversary bro!"

Anytime David called, it was always because he was in some kind of trouble. Being the older brother, Michael had promised his parents that he would take care of him when they passed away. Unfortunately for him, this was quite often. David had quickly failed out of NYU due to his addiction to hard drugs, and after several unsuccesful attempts at rehab, he was once again back on the wagon.

Michael let out an audible sigh. "What do you need, David."

"No man, listen , I really just called to-"

"Cut the shit, David!" Michael whisphered harshly, trying to conceal his tone from Anna.
An audible sob was heard from the other end of the line. "Listen man, I took this girl home from the bar, we had some beers..." He paused for a moment, now sobbing loudly through the phone. "We did some Black Tar, and I fell asleep for just a second, I swear, and now..."
Michael's eyes widened as David's revelation hit him like a bomb.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Michael said, and snapped his phone shut. He turned to Anna somberly, a blank expression marking his face.

"Honey, it's David. He's in trouble. I need to get there no-"

"Michael, I understand." Anna said, waving off his concern. "He's your brother. Go to him. Just know that when you get home, I'll have a nice surprise waiting for you."

Michael smiled and passionately embraced her. "I'll be home as soon as I can, beautiful. I love you."

Anna smiled and kissed him again. "I love you too."

Michael picked up his jacket, kissed his wife once more, and hastily left the restaurant. He never saw his wife alive again.

~~~~~~~~~~~

October 18, 2012

The heavens opened up and unleashed an unrelentless downpour on the streets of New York City. The weather had been like this for weeks, but the worst part was that the air had just begin to turn frigid. Winter seemed to be coming earlier than expected, and the citizens resented the city for that.

"Whoa, oh, oh, sweet child o' mine... Whoa, oh, oh, oh, sweet love of mi-"

A large hand groggily reached over and slammed down on the alarm clock, bringing Axl Rose's unique voice to an abrupt halt. The man rolled over and peered at the clock, still half asleep. It was five thirty in the morning.

Michael Wilson begrudginly rose from his bed and walked into the bathroom.

The light in the bathroom flickered on as he slowly walked up to the sink, still half asleep. Looking into the mirror, he realized that the age of forty had not been kind to him. His once fire red hair had begun to turn auburn, with grey slowly sneaking in. His brow was begun to wrinkle, and his goatee had begun to show some shades of grey as well.

Michael splashed some water in his face, stared at himself for a few more moments, and finally started the shower.

The shower did next to nothing for him. Scalding water poured all over him, and yet he still could not shake sleep's hold off of him. Finally giving up, Michael stepped out of the shower, dried himself off, and put on his bathrobe.

He walked out into his kitchen, turning on the light and pressing the button on his coffee maker. Rain loudly pattered against his window, bringing his mind to a grim realization.

Today was the day.

~~~~~~~~

October 20, 2006

"How the hell could you let this happen?" Michael screamed at the top of his lungs, taking his frustration out at the man in front of him. Tears streamed down his face as he turned away from the man to prevent himself from hurting him in his distress.

"Sir, I'm deeply sorry-"

"Bullshit!" Michael yelled, his voice cracking. "Bullshit! You did nothing! My wife called you and begged you to help, and you did nothing!"

"Sir, there was nothing we could do... She was gone before we got there." The police officer standing across from him looked down somberly and brushed off his shirt.

Michael was still in shock from what had happened. He returned back to his house that night at around two A.M.; his "errand" with his brother had taken him a little bit longer than he had epected. He knew something was wrong as soon as he had pulled up to the house; the door had been left open a crack. Anna made sure to shut and lock the door every night when she got home.

Fear was the first emotion that shot through him when he saw the door open. Without even putting his car in park, Michael shot out of the car and sprinted up to his doorstep, pure adrenaline fueling him to get there as fast as he could. He pulled himself to a halt when he saw a trail of blood leading from his doorstep to the driveway. He willed himself to continue up to his doorstep and push the door open.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he entered his home.

A pool of crimson was the first thing he saw when the door was pushed open. Some of the blood was displaced when he pushed the door open, but tampering with evidence was the last thing on his mind. A clump of blonde hair laid just in front of the pool, and he knew instantly that it was hers. Farther in front of that, 10 lines had been jaggedly carved into the oak floorboards.

She had tried to stop whatever it was that took her... but she couldn't.

"ANNA! ANNA!" He screamed repeadtely, calling out her name in pure agony. Michael knew she wasn't in the house, but he looked anyway.

He found no signs of Anna anywhere, until he reached the bedroom. The TV was still on, the obnoxious pitchman for the infomercial's voice filling the room and shining an ominous light in the room. The room was in total disarray; belongings tossed around, one of the dressers toppled over, and the mirror completely shattered.

She had struggled.

Michael fell the ground and dialed 911, crying as he told the dispatch operator what had happened.

That was two nights ago; they had found her the next night, tossed in a dumpster like a pile of garbage.

"Sir.... I can take you to see her, if you like." The cop said, hoping that the sight of his wife would maybe calm him down.

Michael nodded, and followed the man down to the morgue.

Only one slab was present in the morgue, a white sheet omniously covering the body. The

Medical Examiner nodded to the cop, who then nodded back at him and walked briskly out of the morgue. The examiner stared at Michael blankly for a moment, and then paced over towards him and extended his hand.

"Ryan Weeden, Chief Med-"

"Show her to me." Michael interrupted, wanting nothing to do with the old man who stood before him. He could not take his eyes off of the white sheet.

Weeden was taken aback, but accepted the circumstances walked over towards the body and removed the sheet.

"Is this Anna Wilson, sir?"

A tear slowly rolled down Michael's cheek as he forced himself to stare at her. His once beautiful wife, perfect in every single way, now lay in front of him, her eyes closed and throat slashed. Michael choked down a sob and nodded at the medical examiner. Seeing her like this finally brought him to the realization that she was never coming back... and the tears began to flow.

Michael couldn't take her eyes off of her, he just continued to cry, letting out all the pain and anguish that he had felt over the last two days. Until something shocking forced him to jump back.

Anna's eyes opened, and stared directly at him.

"Daddy?" Anna said, her voice more childlike than ever before. Michael stuttered over and over, failing to say anything.

"Daddy?" She said once more, her eyes seemingly stared into his soul.

Michael snapped out of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

October 18th, 2012

"Daddy?" Michael heard once more, this time coming from behind him.

He had been daydreaming.

Michael turned around to the voice, his tired body failing to recognize what stood right in front of him.

It was his daughter, Jessica.

Jessica had been a year old when her mother was killed, so she did not remember very much about her. She had her mother's blonde hair and blue eyes, which saddened Michael often. Regardless of any sadness her apperance brought him, Michael loved his daughter more than anything in the world.

"Honey, what are you doing awake? You have school today!" Michael said, as he walked over to his daughter and scooped her up in his arms. It was six fifteen in the morning; his daughter wasn't normally awake until at least seven thirty.

"The doorbell woke me up, daddy." Jessica replied, resting her head on his shoulder.

"The doorbell?" Michael thought outloud, slowly walking towards the door now. During his space out he must have not heard the doorbell ring.

He put his daughter down and opened his door, stepping out on to the porch. The rain was
still pouring down, but Michael hadn't bothered to change at all; what he saw laying on his porch was too shocking.

On his porch rested a bouquet of stargazer lilies, being pelted by the rain. Attached to the flowers was a note, which read:

Michael,

I'll be seeing you again soon.

Love, Always and Forever,

Anna

~~~~~~~~~~

Comments and critiques are greatly appreciated people!

[Blue62]

87. Food

The line shuffled along slowly. Each trooper glanced at their premixed; Meal-Ready-to-Eat with either a look of boredom, disgust or even the odd wistful stare in to oblivion. Seated in the back corner, a thinly built blonde woman looked up as her partner crosses the room toward her. Most people avoided the few lizard people living on the base with them, but there was no mistaking the easy companionship between them.

“So what’s in the box today, Nayana?” asked the human, puffing a stray wisp of hair back over her head.

“Hey, Heather. Don’t know, we’ll see. If it’s barbecue again, I’m considering throwing it across the room,” replied the lizard. The woman laughed slightly and shrugged, “Or you could just give it to me, you know I’ll eat it. I think this is supposed to be soy sauce.”
Nayana leaned over the table, pushing her snout into Heather’s meal and sniffing, wrinkling her nostrils in distaste.

“I take it back. You can keep...whatever that shit is, even if I get barbecue.”
Grinning, they turned back to their meals, short claws substituting for the knife buckled to everyone’s waist. A moment’s silence passed between them, the lizard tearing open packets quietly, before, “Well shit.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll go get another one for you, have some of mine.”

“No, no, it’s ok, Heather, I’ll just eat without sauce today.”

“You sure? Hell, it’s all of fifty feet, we run in less time than you can sp-“

“Attention Personnel. Lieutenant Heather Corso and Sergeant Nayana Mariss, please report to Ranger Operations ASAP.”

Both women stood and jogged out, abandoning their half eaten meals, weaving around other troops in the halls. One such passage opened into a broad hanger type room, a series of equipment lockers lined one wall opposite a few cubicle offices. A slightly oversized airlock gate sat square in the centre across the entrance. Heather stepped into one such office and saluted the officer behind the desk. He simply nodded and slid a sealed folder across to them. Nayana picked it up and turned to leave, tail swishing in anticipation as they walked to the lockers and took out their gear.

Pulling on the sealed environmental suits took a full ten minutes, double checking the seals another five. Nayana hated how they had mostly improvised hers, leaving her tail exposed and unprotected while the seal dug into the most tender part of the appendage. The helmet comm clicked twice as Heather sealed her own headgear on, then they both turned and trudged to the lock, nodding to the control officer standing by the console. He grinned and allowed the heavy doors to slid open, the lock behind them, barren and rust streaked from years without a proper cleaning. Cycling took three minutes and nine seconds, no exceptions, the outer door revealing a distinctly bleak landscape, devoid of almost all life. Rough scrub grass grew everywhere and shushed softly in what little breeze blew. No animals. Not in the wild anymore, not since the war that had doomed them to walk under the sun encapsulated in rubber and Lycra suits. Heather shrugged, hefting her rifle higher on her shoulder.

“Yup. Pretty as always.”

(too much ideas, not enough time, curses!)

[mattbcl]

Enforcer: Contemplation

--



Notes: This is the new format I'm pursuing. I hope it gains a few points for originality, as this is going to be how I continue writing this piece.

[Ghost]

Blue62- I see that you're new to posting here (or at least I've never spoken to you) so I just wanted to say hi and welcome

I enjoyed your writing a lot! It was short, but simple and sweet and you were able to meet the prompt perfectly. I enjoyed the imagery of the spacesuits, the wasteland outside (Fallout?) and the dialogue between the two characters was well written. My gripes are the lack of backstory, which I assume will be addressed eventually, but I feel like I have no idea what's going on.

Overall, I thought you writing was very well done and I am eagerly anticipating your next entry!

Mattbcl- Good to see you writing again, I hope you will be critiquing my story soon enough?

I enjoyed your writing a lot; there's an interesting premise, a clear conflict and when I finished reading I really wish that there was more to read There's a lot of mystery and intrigue to the story (Who is "The Wrecker"? What's his motivation? What is the main character going to do now?) and I hate to repeat myself but I liked the story a lot!

I just had a few points to say- I got confused in your last entry- Your character is rushing to work, and then all of the sudden he is reflecting on being in a full body brace- was there a change in narrative that I failed to catch? Your new style of posting definitely gets creativity points, and your handwriting is fine, but something about it just makes me prefer the traditional style of posting; no offense or anything.

Also, what is the main character's name? I saw that you signed the entry at the end but I couldn't figure out his first name, Is it Alex Morgan?

Good luck on writing your next entry and I can't wait to read it!

-Ghost

[mattbcl]

Ghost: Thanks for the critique! And to respond to your questions... in the last entry, the main character (yes, his name is Alex Morgan) had been rushing to work that morning, but he's writing the journal entry the night following. He's describing how it all seems in retrospect. It relates a lot to the first entry I made, wherein he's actually being debriefed.

No offense taken! My handwriting wasn't exactly the best effort for this entry but I'll be trying to do better with it on the next one. I do intend to keep doing it that way and hopefully the words will show up more clearly next time around.

And yes, I will definitely offer a critique of your story - just as soon as I'm able to get more than a few minutes to myself!

[Crystal Tears]

Sorry guys I've been so quiet, I believe I gave Blue and Matt their new prompts but Ghost, could you pm me your next number choice?

My prompt is giving me trouble, but I've finally gotten an idea. So, I should have something up by tuesday next week? When that happens I'll post up my comments and such - I've been so busy recently! It's so nice outside that I don't want to stay inside and play around on my computer and my writing has suffered for it.

[mattbcl]

Enforcer: Solitary



Notes: Not much came out for this one, but then again, the subject was pretty depressing. It ought to pick up soon.