MFP Dreams

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

I wanted to create a thread where I could post dreams that I might draw on later for stories and/or inspiration. I don't know whether it would work to have others post their dreams here, but I certainly wouldn't shoot anyone down for posting their dreams if they hope to inspire others.

I'm not creating this with the intention that others read and take from my dreams - this is more a place for me to document odd dreams that might be useful to me later in idle short stories. I'll post any finished short stories that derived from the dreams here in this thread too.

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

Recurring nightmare:

The dream is pretty much the same every time. It changes as much as the people in them are different, but always tied down to a table in a dark room. I can't see anything but them, like there is some soft, colourless light above them, a bit dull.. desturated - they are grey.

They're always tied down to a metal table; the metal is cold and hard and feels sturdy. Their limbs are tied to each of the four corners of the rectangular table - tied down to the legs.

I crawl up their body from between their legs. They're nude but I hardly notice their genitals. I'm all eyes for their heaving chest as they breathe faster and faster as I climb up onto them and straddle them. I don't know if I'm clothed or not. I can see the fear in their eyes, in my peripheral vision, but I don't care about their faces. I don't look much at them, I am all eyes on the chest.. watching them breathe and buck and cough as they try and scream louder past their gag. I want to reach their heart. I almost feel it like a hunger in the pit of my stomach. I want to grip it and feel the warmth and how alive they are in their final moment before death.

I cut them open at the gut, like a fisherman gutting a fish. I cut a deep gash across the soft of their belly, just under the ribcage. Sometimes across, sometimes upwards, but always there, just under the ribs and then I drop the knife. I never hear it clatter. I just don't have it anymore, same as I don't remember picking it up.

They screech and buck in pain and I soak it up, revelling in their fight and vigor. I push my hands across their spattered skin and sweep blood across their soft flesh as they bleed so much precious life fluid.... so fucking warm... and when I reach the edge of the wound I pause and feel like I imagine a man does just before he pushes inside his lover in that most intimate of moments... I want to savour that first tightness.

My fingertips find their way in, and the slice is never as wide as I first think it is. I always have to stretch it more, and I feel the skin give and tear further as I stretch with might to get both of my hands inside. Once both of my hands are in I start tingling - a circuit of pleasure creeps along my stomach and I feel myself blush.

I always find I want to rush ahead at this point.. it is like suddenly the dream speeds up and I can no longer contain myself or anything of what is happening. I push deeper up inside of them, and I can feel how tight it all is. I feel their organs sliding around my hands and arms and their lungs moving. Constricting, squeazing like muscles convulsing in this beautiful, horrible rhythm - so tight, so wet and hot.

It feels like their blood might burn me, but I'm not scared. I know it is just blood and I get excited as I finally push past the point of no return and weave and push my way through a tangle of tissue to find their heart. The magnet that drew me in, the object of my need and desire. It's pumping so fast. Like... so fast I'm almost scared to really touch it. Their breathing bumps my hands against it, squeezing me into action. I finally grab hold and it is so alive.

God... so fucking alive.. shockingly full of life and potential, and although I love it, I also want to feel it stop so I squeeze the heart in my hands, squeeze as hard as I possibly can; I wonder if my fingers will burst into it, but they don't, they bruise it as I feel it spasm and flutter and kick to live, fighting me. And I grin. I know I am grinning in the dream like I've been chasing something in the woods and have finally caught it. It put up a fair game, but now I get to eat it. That kind of grin.

Finally the heart skips and falters, there are a few final, uneven beats. That tingle inside me roars to the surface, and as they die I feel it sweep over my body in a wave of ecstasy that brings me to wake. Sometimes sweating. Sometimes I'm fine. Sometimes I sit up and feel confused - but I always wake up from it at that point.

[Deathcon7]

At 6/23/10 07:14 AM, meaty-fuck-puppet wrote: I'm not creating this with the intention that others read and take from my dreams - this is more a place for me to document odd dreams that might be useful to me later in idle short stories. I'll post any finished short stories that derived from the dreams here in this thread too.

This isn't the right place for that. If you're only trying to document, use your blog. Any stories derived from your dreams would be acceptable, however.

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

At 6/23/10 12:42 PM, Deathcon7 wrote:

At 6/23/10 07:14 AM, meaty-fuck-puppet wrote: I'm not creating this with the intention that others read and take from my dreams - this is more a place for me to document odd dreams that might be useful to me later in idle short stories. I'll post any finished short stories that derived from the dreams here in this thread too.

This isn't the right place for that. If you're only trying to document, use your blog. Any stories derived from your dreams would be acceptable, however.

Well, seeing as the intent is to document inspiration/ideas for writing, I would say this is a very good place for this. If I just wanted a dream journal, I could find somewhere far more suitable. Thanks for your comment though, much appreciated.

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

This is the beginning of a story that came about from a dream - and basically what I'm shooting for with this thread (so's to put any "dream journal" confusion to rest).

~

I had been there; I had seen it all and couldn't prevent any of it. I watched as man attacked beast and beast fell upon man, as red seeped into my mother's flesh and she led it wickedly to my roots. Eventually the humans will destroy everything, which is why so many have lost the miracle of magick, it has many souls, none of which care to be devastated - my soul is of the forest, of wood and foliage, of all fruit born and every beautiful flower that is snatched up to an untimely ruin. And from my trees I gazed with sorrow as man set about to end a magnificent race.

That night there was fighting, fire and death. The sun set antique gold on the bloody scene, and as it set it ended not only a day, but also a legend. Only two figures rose from the ground, one human, the other not. The red sky cast an orange glow over every movement as they struggled to remain standing, and as the heavens grew darker and the wind picked up the human called out in an ancient tongue and the ground opened to accept him. His companions on the ground were swallowed by the earth soon after. Too weak to run back to the mountains, the werewolf howled and keened, curling against his lover's body in the bloody grass, and waited to die.

Two nights later, Gypsies passed through on the old wagon trail heading towards the enclave settlement at the base of Mount Zenith. Four caravans and a rusty pick up truck ambled along the path and pulled up along side the clearing where the pack had fallen. An excited elfish girl danced from the second caravan, her feet barely touching the ground as she swept over the trail and peered intently into the shadowy grass and trees where the fighting had taken place. Her dark pixy eyes quickly lost their sparkle as she touched the past, and spotted the present with horror.

"Death! It has taken the wolves!" she screeched as she fell to her knees and covered her face in shock. The three elders carefully approached whispering invocations, pleading for a spark of life amongst the dead; the women fetched water, charms and quilts whilst the men strode through the copper bracken to recover the bodies. Night consumed everything and torches were flared and posted by the entrance to each vehicle, a large area of the track ahead was set up within seconds to receive the werewolves and prepare them for the journey to the settlement.

The girl crawled urgently to the first few bodies as they were laid out on the hard earth and she beseeched our souls as only an enchanted could. As wails broke from her throat the very breath carrying her cries was swept up by the twins, Air and Wind. They knocked her down gently and whispered together as whistles. Sky slowed her clouds to peer at this weeping child, and the tears streaming from her eyes kissed her cheeks and soundlessly bade her not despair. I waited silently, wishing to aid the girl but only able to grow bough and branches aside for the freshly waning moon. Her tears fell onto the lycanthrope that had been the last to stand; as Water splashed his skin it called the blood awake within his veins and he shook as Life crept through his body once more. The Gypsies wrapped up the dead with respect, and carefully started to heal the last werewolf in existence. That night, the girl sat outside waiting for the dawn, sometimes crying, sometimes smiling, but always whispering her gratitude into the dark.

On the next morning the caravans and truck moved on for the settlement. I watched as the girl followed them on foot, I leant out through a weeping willow branch and the child froze before me.

"Hello?" she spoke to the leaves.

She stepped under the sweep of the willow and I pointed with a twiggy limb at the base of the trunk. There, recently, one of the pack had torn away a section of bark and clawed a short inscription into the tree. The girl didn't understand the message and having nothing else with her to capture it, she took out her knife and carved the symbols into her arm. One by one the markings took new life and healed as pale scars in her flesh, when the final marking was complete she touched the carved wood and the inscription blazed silver on her olive skin. As her skin flashed she fell back as if in a trance. For many hours I stayed with her, I grew gold ivy up along the willow's weeping branches, creating a room around the trunk to protect her. And as the evening crept up on the day she finally awoke and spoke to me in the excited whispers only a child can achieve.

"I saw Him! ...I saw Life," she said looking up into the tree, "He told me you've always been his favourite child; so meek, yet strong, and always so truthful. Will you help me?"

In amongst my leaves, my soul cried happiness with blossoms in the crisp autumn breeze, and in that instant I knew I would help this magick-blooded child to whatever end.

"We would have to share Life, part of you will be with me and part of me with you. If you will help me please give me a sign, change the colour of your ivy walls."

Suddenly all the questions I'd always pondered over flooded my thoughts. What would it be like to feel the movement of running, or the momentum of jumping? But the act I wanted most to experience was to speak - just to be free to say something, anything to another living being. I had silently vowed to help the girl but it was not in total selflessness that I caressed the ivy around the tree, feeling the sun kissed gold bleed into beautifully vivid ruby.

The girl again took the knife to her flesh, this time carving a single word into her unscarred arm. She then began to strip away bark from an exposed root at her feet, making a clean surface of pale wood in which she deeply carved her name. Kneeling over the raw wood she pressed cut against cut and I felt her surge through the tree, I saw the awe in her face as I tried to flow more gently into her blood. Her name was Mia. I was seeing things through her eyes, a mass of memories flooded my thoughts, fractions lasting longer than others as they shot past - nearly drowning in a murky river, staring at a full moon whilst standing in the rain, finding the werewolves last night. The emotions attached to these memories also invaded my consciousness and I heard a strangled groan escape the child, it was then that I realised I was forcing that sound through Mia's mouth, it was so foreign to me I couldn't stop and the pitch raised in my panic. Mia couldn't help me; she was being swamped with the memories and thoughts from my age-old soul. I could feel her growing terror as she lost control to me and I felt her reach out, a final effort to retain some grip on consciousness. The sounds from her throat changed and I heard her calling out for help. I wished that I could help her but I was the cause of her crisis. Then, suddenly, Mia was silent. The joining had been so stressful her mind had locked itself away to save her. And so, for a while, I was alone in her body.

I wasn't sure what to do at first. Wanting to stand, I began shifting weak arms and legs, and as I pushed from the ground to stand unsteadily I saw Mia's arm. The fresh cut was beginning to heal as the first, but this time the tattoo was like ink rather than scar tissue. The letters turned into berry stains. There on her arm, shaped in vines of scarlet was one word. My name. Flora...

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

With a thought I swept a doorway parting through the ivy and stepped gingerly out into the cold dusk, tripping at the edge of the path. I hadn't realised until then that it was so cold, Mia's body was warm inside - the contrast to the air startled me. Even breathing took me by surprise. I'd never realised how complicated being human could be, I was so used to just drifting from the sound of rustling leaves to the snapping of twigs, from one edge of the green world to the other. It was claustrophobic inside that single frail body. Standing there by the trail, as I pondered these revelations I heard people calling from the direction of the settlement. I held a hand up in the air before our eyes and called the twins to me. Air and Wind danced over Mia's head and tickled her face with wisps of wavy black hair, a feeling I will never forget. I asked them who was ahead, friend or foe to the child? The twins have seen everything that has ever happened in the world, anywhere there was air, the twins would drift to listen and see.

"Gypsies," they whispered through my trees, "they've returned for the girl. Flora, why do you limit yourself to this child?" Their voices flowed within each other as they begged me to return to my responsibilities. "You will lose more trees to those butchers - they take your children without so much as a second thought. They take and they take and they waste so much, please go back and tend to your soul's desire. Flora, we know it hurts you so, but how can you leave it this way?"

"I can still mind my gardens!" I cried. But it was true, my rule was inhibited, why would I have called for the twins sight when I could have seen through the trees ahead myself? Yet another revelation, no matter old how we grow to be, we are always learning. This lesson was a shock. Air and Wind knocked Mia's thin form down with a gust as they left my company.

Mia's Papa and two brothers had come back to find her that night. After the caravans had left that morning, they'd never looked back. As soon as they reached the closest encampment they had set about respecting the dead and fully healing the lycanthrope. It was only after the wolf spoke of a girl who had saved him that they realised she was missing. So her Papa picked her up and brushed her off, he yelled and cried and then yelled again, but I understood. I felt that fear constantly, for every plant I was responsible for, for every single petal or leaf I had grown. I saw my fear in his anger, the only type of fear to bespeak unconditional love. And with that connection, I found hope for the journey ahead.

~

I'd like to write more and have ideas in place, but since I'm a novice and this is just to make me happy, I write without any real structure in place to keep me on track - we'll see if anything further fleshes out.

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

I caught you staring at me, looking over your book from across the kitchen table. Your eyes full of emotion that some people are never lucky enough to see in your face; whether you hide it or they just fail to notice, I could only guess. I couldn't help but smile as I looked back down at the spoon in my milky cereal bowl.

"What?" I chided, jokingly. "You'd think you'd never seen someone eating cereal before." It's hard to scoff at someone when you may have bits of bran flakes stuck in between your teeth.

"Nothing" your simple reply, with a crook of a smile. You lifted your face to let the light show how open you were to my gentle mocking.

This is a moment of love, between you and I.

[ATICE]

This isn't the right place for that. If you're only trying to document, use your blog. Any stories derived from your dreams would be acceptable, however.

Agreed.

How do you not have a blog? lol.

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

At 6/29/10 02:46 PM, ATICE wrote:

This isn't the right place for that. If you're only trying to document, use your blog. Any stories derived from your dreams would be acceptable, however.

Agreed.

How do you not have a blog? lol.

I'm not sure I see your point. I've not posted anything against any rules. I haven't seen a defined list of appropriate forms of writing that can be posted here, but even so, these aren't hastily recorded random thoughts.

I'm not going to stop posting snippets of stories I want to develop until a mod comes in here and tells me that I'm wrong for posting here, so get off your high horses and either be productive or keep your traps shut. Ta very much.

[ReNaeNae]

At 6/23/10 12:42 PM, Deathcon7 wrote: This isn't the right place for that. If you're only trying to document, use your blog. Any stories derived from your dreams would be acceptable, however.

If you hadn't been told these were dreams... would you have known? Or would you have commented on them like any other writing? Regardless of how the OP came up with them, they are well-written, vividly descriptive and interesting stories (and/or inspirational tellings that may possibly become stories), so they're perfectly fine here.

Just an fyi... I've gotten more than a couple complaint pm's regarding this forum. I realize there aren't any specific rules in place yet, and I get that people are trying to help, but let's keep the whole backseat modding thing in check, mmkay?! Cool, thanks!

Carry on.

[Deathcon7]

At 6/29/10 05:26 PM, ReNaeNae wrote: ...

My comment was based on the original post, where the OP stated the purpose was not to share but rather document. For his benefit, I mentioned using his blog as a place to document, rather than the writing forum. The thread would be closed very quickly if someone in the flash forum it to document various functions they've used from tertiary libraries.

And regarding the backseat moderating, this has already been addressed by Coop. No need to call a week old post into question. And to be fair, there wouldn't be space for backseat modding if the rules were better established. Users, such as myself, merely seek to ensure the first page is clear of clutter, given that the real estate is so important to ensure a thread is read (which, given the category of this forum, is very crucial for legitimate stories needing review).

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

At 6/29/10 06:43 PM, Deathcon7 wrote:

At 6/29/10 05:26 PM, ReNaeNae wrote: ...

My comment was based on the original post, where the OP stated the purpose was not to share but rather document. For his benefit, I mentioned using his blog as a place to document, rather than the writing forum. The thread would be closed very quickly if someone in the flash forum it to document various functions they've used from tertiary libraries.

And regarding the backseat moderating, this has already been addressed by Coop. No need to call a week old post into question. And to be fair, there wouldn't be space for backseat modding if the rules were better established. Users, such as myself, merely seek to ensure the first page is clear of clutter, given that the real estate is so important to ensure a thread is read (which, given the category of this forum, is very crucial for legitimate stories needing review).

Sometimes people need reminding. If Coop addressing it last week didn't sink in, which it obviously hasn't seeing as it has happened here since then, I'd say it is very much worth bringing up.

Link me to some rule or list stating what is and is not acceptable material, beyond the obvious regarding what is safe for general viewing on this site. There is nothing stating I cannot document my dreams here, and I'd have hoped for a better reception from people wishing to create a safe-haven for those wishing to write and spread creativity. Clearly these aren't written straight out from waking to the machine, I've fleshed out the writing and there is a thought process, time and effort put into both the documentation of such dreams and the stories derived from them.

If you have a problem with what you read here, then I'd advise you not to bother opening this thread again because I have little patience for useless quibble. End of argument - thank you.

[Deathcon7]

At 6/29/10 08:06 PM, meaty-fuck-puppet wrote: If you have a problem with what you read here, then I'd advise you not to bother opening this thread again because I have little patience for useless quibble. End of argument - thank you.

To avoid creating an elitist group, the mods would rather manage the threads than have the forum manage itself. This is understandable and their purpose. I was wrong with what I said earlier, and shouldn't been so ready to be snappy. I maintain that pure documentation isn't the purpose of this forum, as common courtesy should be considered here. A repository thread could very well displace a legitimate thread seeking for attention and critique. That being said, you've clearly made this thread into more than just a repository so the fact of the matter is, the issue is a dead issue. I shouldn't have bristled the way I did when Renaenae brought it back up again, but unfortunately I did. Either way, I do wish you luck and do expect to make time to review this once the MWC is completed. I'm sure your intentions were viable, and that the crux of the issue was merely semantics. So, I do apologize, to both you and Renaenae, for being overly sensative.

[ATICE]

At 6/29/10 05:26 PM, ReNaeNae wrote:
Just an fyi... I've gotten more than a couple complaint pm's regarding this forum. I realize there aren't any specific rules in place yet, and I get that people are trying to help, but let's keep the whole backseat modding thing in check, mmkay?! Cool, thanks!

Carry on.

I wasn't even trying to mod, I was stating that it was weird.. and if you want a real comment.. I think from the 10 lines I read of your dreams.. They're quite disturbing and I would suggest that you see a psychiatrist right away.

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

At 6/30/10 03:09 PM, ATICE wrote:

...if you want a real comment.. I think from the 10 lines I read of your dreams.. They're quite disturbing and I would suggest that you see a psychiatrist right away.

How incredibly helpful. *sigh* You couldn't even skip to the next post, you just read 10 lines and gave up with a useless remark about psychiatrists - how mature of you. What makes you think I'd want a comment from someone with nothing useful to offer?

Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" was inspired by horrific dreaming. Robert Louis Stevenson's "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" was also brought about by a strange dream. I'm not some great writer and I don't try to pose to be - but if you have nothing constructive to say, and in fact only say something that some would find offensive on a personal level, then you may wish to ask yourself why you would do that.

[Deathcon7]

At 6/23/10 02:59 PM, meaty-fuck-puppet wrote: I'd like to write more and have ideas in place, but since I'm a novice and this is just to make me happy, I write without any real structure in place to keep me on track - we'll see if anything further fleshes out.

That was my favorite so far. Your previous posts deviate from what I'm comfortable with as a writer and as such my critique would be useless. With this, however, I think you have a lot to work with. In what little you've written, you've opened up a very genuine and likable world. Structure, clarity, and direction need a lot more definition, and I think Mia's character could use further development to achieve the right balance between human soul and nature sprite. As you said, however, it is a start. I just wanted to affirm that it's a very good start. My advice, however, would be to build the world first before proceeding. There are a lot of elements that can be tapped into, and a lot of mundane ideas can be re-imagined.

My suggestion is to get some more ideas down, and once you have the story further expanded, open up a Typewith.me session. I'd be more than happy to help you develop this further.

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

At 6/30/10 04:09 PM, Deathcon7 wrote:

At 6/23/10 02:59 PM, meaty-fuck-puppet wrote: I'd like to write more and have ideas in place, but since I'm a novice and this is just to make me happy, I write without any real structure in place to keep me on track - we'll see if anything further fleshes out.

That was my favorite so far. Your previous posts deviate from what I'm comfortable with as a writer and as such my critique would be useless. With this, however, I think you have a lot to work with. In what little you've written, you've opened up a very genuine and likable world. Structure, clarity, and direction need a lot more definition, and I think Mia's character could use further development to achieve the right balance between human soul and nature sprite. As you said, however, it is a start. I just wanted to affirm that it's a very good start. My advice, however, would be to build the world first before proceeding. There are a lot of elements that can be tapped into, and a lot of mundane ideas can be re-imagined.

My suggestion is to get some more ideas down, and once you have the story further expanded, open up a Typewith.me session. I'd be more than happy to help you develop this further.

Thank you for your advice! Yeah, I think you're right.. I need to set definitions more clearly. I find myself tripping over what to write next because I don't have a world totally set out in my head, and as you said, it would be better to start building on that before going any further.

I really appreciate your help and I'll be sure to take you up on your offer when the time is right.

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

Okay, so I had a dream last night that I found really interesting - it could have something in it that is useful.

~

We were idly scouting a target in a mall; the target being a group of three middle aged men that we'd been asked to babysit for a few weeks until the client decided what they actually wanted to do with them.

My partner, Tirig, and I were taking turns keeping an eye on the group as they went from shop to shop ahead of us. I won't lie, I was bored. Bored and tired of doing this. Not for the first time, the thought crossed my mind of just gathering together funds from all my accounts, giving the money to my boss and seeing if he'd let me limp away to play dead somwwhere peaceful. It was just the beginning of an idea, I hadn't thought much beyond that, like where I'd go when I died - I didn't want to think too much into it until I knew I really wanted to, or really could escape my "career" choice.
As we were walking I noticed a little well-lit bookshop off to the side and figured I'd have a look, see if there were any paperbacks to glance over while we were just surveying. Cracking my neck as I entered, I yawned and looked up and down the first bookshelf I came across. There was a shelf to the left of the entrance that drew me in, full of holistic therapy books from top to middle and then spiritual belief/religion toward the bottom. The middle shelf had a bunch of the Earth Medicine series shuffled along it and then one large, thick book oddly placed amongst its much smaller, thinner companions. It stuck out like a sore thumb. I felt bad for it since its fate was probably much the same as mine.. can't hide no matter how hard you try, not when you've been given a name and a place and a category... My mind wandered again; I'd noticed lately it wandered straight back to getting the fuck out of this job. Not this job in particular, but this life.

I picked the book up without another thought and looked at the cover. There was a crescent moon with a face inside a blazing sun embossed on the cover (accurate to the dream, but exchange for a different symbol). The binding seemed to be made from a makisu mat, or something similar, and I opened it carefully in case the binding was as delicate as it felt for such a heavy book. Glancing back at Tirig, I hoped he wouldn't notice what drew my attention and find something to mock me for. I would definitely have poked fun at him for this, but whatever. I realised I'd been flipping pages thoughtlessly and slowed down to really look at what I was seeing. The layout was so sparce - a whole page here was dedicated to a single etching of vines strangling the four walls of a small square. That's all there was on this page; I flipped the stiff paper and found only one word in a large, simply font. POLL. Poll what? I read it over and over, trying to figure out why anyone would print a single word on an entire page. Seemed wasteful. I read it again and then said it out loud.

"Poll. Polllllll... Hrmm." Next page, I thought, and suddenly there was a hidden compartment. It was secreted away inside the book and from one page to the next I was suddenly staring down into a little cubby hole. It housed a beaded bracelette with a few different stones and different coloured threads woven around each other and back on themselves. It looked interesting but was possibly a little hokey for my tastes.

"Wassat?" came from so close to my ear, I jumped and hit Tirig in the chin with my shoulder.

"What... THE fuck? Don't sneak up on me."

"Don't make it so easy to sneak up on you. Also, tone it down, we're enjoying a nice day out, remember?" He shrugged back in the direction of the group on a bench across the large hall. They were trying on shoes or something that they'd just bought. Tirig went to take the book out of my hands while I peered past him.

"Hey, whoa," I avoided the grab and laid the book on the shelf while glaring back at him. "It's nothing. I was bored. Just passin' time. Shut yer cakehole." Too many words in too short a time, he knew he had something on me. Ah...Great. I'd be sure to hear about it later, but now we were "on" and everything was business as he turned around without another word and I followed him into the open hall, taking his hand to pretend we were a couple. "You know, we should just fuck and get it over with, right, sweetie?" I smiled up at him sweetly, the words not matching the look or the tone.

He smirked and sighed. "Did you know they've got a thing for sandals? Since when do guys like that wear sandals?" I paused mid step and then realised he was talking about the target.

"Since socks with sandals became the "in" thing, dude. Catch up, jeez." but I couldn't be bothered to scoff. I really was bored of this already. Maybe our client would be pleased if I just polished the target off and went home for a nice sandwich? I frowned. I was suddenly hungry. My mood was rolling from overcast to mildly violent.

But I was suddenly aware of someone staring at me from a shop front, and I forgot my mood in that moment of attention. There was a woman staring daggers at me, or so I thought at first. I squeezed Tirig's hand and he looked at the group more closely from the corner of his eye, as if I'd spotted something there.

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

"No, not them," I whispered, "are we working alongside anyone else or what? I'm getting pyscho glare from the Asian Gift Shop, ten o'clock." He knew better than to just turn and look, but he went ahead and did it anyway. I guess we weren't playing lovers for anyone but the target now, I had been spotted, but by whom? The lady's face seemed scared as she stared at me, like she'd seen a ghost. She hadn't moved in the thirty seconds since I noticed her. I wondered how long she'd been looking at me.

"Let's go and have a friendly chat, shall we?" Tirig said as he let go of my hand to put both of his in the back pockets of his jeans, not quite rolling up his untucked flanel shirt at the back. Anyone would think he was just being cheeky, jaunting around grabbing his ass, but I knew about the Jericho tucked along his back - nose nestled in between two very sexy buttcheeks. I also knew he went commando. I didn't want to think about how uncomfortable it would be if he got sweaty, but I couldn't help my curiosity. I wanted to ask whether he'd ever gotten a rash from keeping his gun there, but I had to file that away for another time as we reached the Asian Gift Shop and he motioned for me to keep an eye on our group.

Guess I was lookout while he found out what was up with the woman. But before I turned back to our babysitting jobby, I caught the look in her eyes. Close up I felt the full force of her gaze and it didn't even falter as Tirig towered over her, beginning to ask if we could help her with something. I had to look away, she was creeping me the fuck out. Even while I spied on the group of scientists that made up our target, while they tried on sandals and nodded to small comments from one another, I felt her eyes on me, boring a hole into the back of my head that made me itch to grab my compact Walther out from my inner thigh holster and... And what? And nothing. I was wearing a summer dress, it was a nice day. We were on a shitty, boring job in a mall. I wasn't going to make a scene - lifting my damn skirts up to start shoving tiny guns in some crazy old bat's face.

But damn, I could feel her watching me stand there. And she didn't seem to be responding to Tirig's questions. "Come on, big boy," I grabbed his arm without turning around fully and he let me drag him a few steps. "She doesn't seem to be, you know..." I gestured to my temple, "All there?"

He let me drag him off, convinced she was mental, but I knew he'd be keeping an eye out for her in future. I refused to look back at her as we slowly walked around the inner plaza to find a bench where we could babysit without too much mall traffic getting in the way. I managed to find a spot where strategically placed shrubs blocked her from my line of sight, or was that the other way around? My stomach grumbled. What a shitty Saturday.

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

whip-crack thunderclap scores off into the distance; the children wail and mothers flail, but pa offers no resistance; the devil yawns and leads the fawns out to the blackened cove, where never a reason could be found, just a flat of cold hard stone

those angel heads came to a rest and heavy was their breathing, delicate lips born not to kiss, nor whisper of life fleeting; their cherub cheeks took a bluish tinge but still their hearts were beating; angelic eyes witness demise sweep throughout the darkened clearing

one tap, two tap, three tap now; rush of bright red ribbon as it flows along their crown; a sweet red lace does much to grace a sweaty, chilly brow; and at their morbid beauty does the devil cry out loud

[CloudEater]

beautiful <3

..your stories and creativity will always intrigue me.

[meaty-fuck-puppet]

I haven't been online for such a long time. I'm planning on taking part in more group activities soon, and here's a short warm up inspired by a daydream I had when I woke up this morning. Unfortunately my sleeping dreams have been harder to recall recently, so I guess I'll be pulling from more conscious imagination for a while.

~

Four or five more bolts of seering yellow light flashed inches above my head. Crouching behind the sink in the island of the kitchen never seemed like such a stupid idea as water sloshed over the edge, dishes rumbling under the running water. The surprise attack left me hidden behind the counter in a strange mixture of safe haven and sore thumb scenario. Where else could I be hiding? Another bolt cracked from the other side of the room, arching to burn the base of the stainless steel handle on a cupboard behind me. Stupidly, I thought the water was more annoying because I couldn't hear how close they were, but it dawned on me that he could electrocute me just by hitting the growing puddle I was cursing them from.

The smell of charred meat was so close now, he must be right on top of me. The running faucet above me drowned out his footsteps, but that smell never changed. It was the same no matter what colour light they used. This guy was yellow, the weakest; meaning he either wanted to keep my alive but immobilized, or he was planning on killing me very slowly.

Another bolt came from so close to the edge of the kitchen island that I ducked and rolled to the right, watching from the corner of my eye as the arch connected with the floor and a pale yellow aura danced erratically over the surface of the water I'd been crouched in. Thank goodness for old, buckled floorboards. I'd tucked and rolled to a corner that was dry, but as I uncurled I had only a split second to see the second unwelcome guest standing four feet in front of me, his raised hand a red raw power dripping what looking like strangely molten electricity as we locked eyes. He said nothing, but nodded and suddenly the world was a chaotic rush of pain flooding every one of my senses. Burning yellow light flicked up my chest to my neck and licked my tongue as I tried to scream, but it was too painful. Just as I my brain caught up enough to wonder if yellow could in fact kill me with one shot, the surge dropped and I buckled, collapsed and felt rather than heard them come closer along the creaking boards. I could string together two rudimentary thoughts past the shattering white noise of my senses... It doesn't hurt now, and, this is really bad.