31 1 / 2013
“…Flea?” she asked. “Your name is Flea? Were your parents cruel or just big Red Hot Chili Pepper fans?” she asked with a snark. His wrinkled brow was all she needed to know his confusion. “Right, okay, that was mean. Sorry. So, where are you from?” she asked, hoping to get this part over with quick. He simply stared back at her. “Family? Were you sick or injured? Hey, what’s wrong why is your tongue stuck all of a sudden?” she asked.
31 1 / 2013
She had a momentary lapse of panic before realizing the guy stumbling around was very much alive and not looking to put her legs in his mouth. When the disorientation passed she freed herself from the metal trap and pulled herself to her feet. She could feel a bruise forming on her left calf but otherwise she was fine. The guy, however, was looking like a frat boy who had one two many red bull bombs.
He was a newcomer, she assumed. The polite name attributed to people abandoned in the hospitals and healthcare centers but somehow made it out alive. Coma patients and people with limited mobility were crawling their way back to civilization with no idea of what had transpired outside the white walls. Considering how terrible events were in those buildings, it was little surprise most search groups and recovery teams refused to go near them.
Mariana approached him carefully to make sure he was okay, but hoped upon hope she wouldn’t have to deal with this too long. She wasn’t big on charitable activities taking up her precious book time.
30 1 / 2013
When the dead start walking with the singular purpose of consuming the living you have to learn to live with the singular purpose of killing the dead. Mariana learned this fact quickly, and as the corpses of her parents began picking themselves off the floor, she did not think twice about picking up her father’s hunting rifle and taking them both back down.
Mariana had been through quite enough by now, and frankly when the exterminators rolled through her neighborhood with their armored trucks spraying the orange gas, she sighed behind her face mask with a boredom normally reserved with waiting for one’s latte too long. And now here she was, three weeks after total extermination, and she had settled into the new life with the same enthusiasm she had for her old life.
Pro: She had a job now. All able bodied survivors were conscripted into civil services and were paid with extra food rations as well as certain privileges. Work in exchange for food and luxuries, pretty much the same system it was before.
Con: When she graduated from college with a major in communication arts, she did not expect her bread and butter to come from translating the frenzied Spanish of old women to English for overwhelmed healthcare providers. She thought she had caught in to an easy meal ticket when the job caller posted for translators in multiple stations, but one day of telling women this station was rationing antibiotics and couldn’t give any more and telling men the government didn’t know where their children were proved otherwise.
Mariana’s days now consisted of waking up with the sunlight, boiling water over her small camping propane grill to mix instant coffee in, scarfing down a couple of energy bars, and making the two mile bike ride to her work station. The ride was peaceful and honestly the best part of her days now. She took the scenic route through the park, and though the old play area was broken down and benches were wrecked, the continued existence of squirrels and geese somehow settled her morning anxieties.
Once she made it to the medical tent her day was filled with talking back and forth and trying not to be the brunt of everyone’s frustrations. Don’t shoot the messenger isn’t easy to remember when your family is starving and dying from infections and disease. When she wasn’t translating she was transcribing posters and informational pamphlets into Spanish. It was constant tedious work, but at least she wasn’t disposing of corpses or picking fruit in the grueling sun. She was now abundantly grateful to her grandmother for enforcing a strict double fluency law in her home (as much as she rolled her eyes at it as a child).
After work she presented her hours chart to the rations tent, loaded her backpack with whatever it was they had for the day, and made the ride back home. Before going inside she was greeted by her neighbor, Susan. The older woman had lost her husband and two kids, but her inability to lay down and give in allowed her to survive long enough for the extermination trucks to pull through. Mariana made sure to visit with her every evening. Her constant presence was the only thing connecting Mariana with her past now.
Pro: She still had a home with a roof above her head. Surprisingly what was left of society seemed to collectively come together to restore rather than loot. Since the monsters were put down she no longer feared protecting her own home. It was hers, and it was a lot more than most people now had.
Con: It was worlds larger than she ever remembered it being before.
In the evening she ate whatever was in her bag, sometimes it was fresh fruit or dehydrated meat and sometimes it was a bag of peanuts. The rest of the evening was spent reading by candlelight, not much else to do. The gossip mill continued promising the government was working on restoring electricity but Mariana wasn’t holding her breath. She had an entire library of free entertainment on the way home from her station and really, it’s all she needed anymore.
A job to fill her time, a neighbor to look in on, food in her stomach, and a good book in her hands. It was a far cry from spending the day laying on her parents’ couch, posting on facebook about the latest British science fiction soap, and applying to part time retail jobs, but it was life now.
And frankly she was okay with that. What was the point in wishing for what was done and gone and never coming back?
Mariana had grown comfortable in her new life and was perfectly accepting of how things were going to be from now on.
Which was why it was so inconvenient when Mariana rode home one day and almost ran into a dark haired boy in medical scrubs.
13 5 / 2012
anxiety is going to the grocery store, hands shaking the whole time while you wait in the check out line. you sigh at the disappointment in yourself for grabbing the expensive pre-packaged deli meat because you were too scared to talk to the old lady behind the counter. the guy ringing up your order attempts to make company mandated small talk which throws you for a loop, this doesn’t fit the script. you try to answer but the words come out awkward and you find yourself using more words to correct what you said and by the time you reach your car you finally realize what the normal person answer was.
anxiety is going home and spending the next three hours replaying that moment in your head chastising yourself for being so dumb.
anxiety is going for a walk in the woods to escape the stress of that moment. everything is fine at first until you find yourself walking through the tall grass, thoughts of tiny bugs that latch to your skin and burrow into you race through your mind. you think of turning back until you find a safer path and continue on. there’s nobody around for awhile until someone comes walking towards you on the path. you awkwardly step to the side and end up with a foot in the mud. you pretend not to notice so the other person won’t feel bad about inconveniencing you. you’re fine really. but now you can’t walk that way back to your car or they’ll know or think you’re following them which is weird. you keep walking. you hear a tiny sound, like a branch cracking. you look around to find the source but it’s not there. you try desperately to remember every native animal to the region, what it could be, thoughts of a vagrant serial killer start plaguing you. you give up and turn around, back to your car. but not too quickly, you don’t want to catch up to the stranger from earlier.
anxiety is completely checking yourself for an hour before and after the shower to make really sure there aren’t any ticks. you still feel oddly itchy in places all night.
anxiety is going out to dinner with a friend and letting them pick the place because you don’t want to intrude. they say they don’t know and ask what you prefer. you go through your list of places you know and try to remember some place that isn’t too pricey, but not dingy, some place that they haven’t been to a thousand times but isn’t out of their comfort zone, and some place that caters to your friends specific dietary needs.
you end up picking that regular, safe place because you are too overwhelmed to make any other choice. when the waiter comes to take your drink order you ask for water because you feel a little dehydrated from the walk, and then later start to hope he doesn’t think you’re going to be a cheap table. you over compensate for the water order and end up coming off as weirdly nice. you pronounce the name of the entree wrong and feel ridiculously stupid the rest of the meal. your friend finally confesses why she asked you to eat with her. she tells you she’s pregnant, she just found out today. you have no idea what to say, her face is unreadable to you. is she happy? is she upset? should you congratulate, console, what do you say to this? trying to gauge how to respond you stupidly blurt out “was it planned?” and as soon as you say it you feel like an insensitive moron. she looks offended, you should have known her better than that.
anxiety is over tipping the waiter and driving home thinking your friend hates you now. you avoid all amount of contact with her for a week because you’re too afraid of offending her further.
anxiety is going to bed that night with thoughts of pregnancy on your mind. you think about all the horrible things the body goes through, the stretches, the tears, you remember that article that listed all the physical things that can go wrong during a pregnancy and you begin to feel nauseous. you begin to think about actual babies, how fragile they are, how dependent they are on you being a capable adult who can take care of them, you think about having a baby in your future and you shudder knowing you could never handle that amount of responsibility. you could forget to feed it on time, or trip while holding the baby and end up falling on it. you could miss one piece of vital advice that every mother ever knows and end up with a preventable baby death.
anxiety keeps you up with these thoughts for hours until you fall asleep. the nightmares don’t let it last long.
anxiety is going to work the next morning, tired out of your mind and not quite feeling well but you go anyway because you’re afraid of ever calling out. you can’t afford to lose this job no matter how sick you get. you try to pay attention to what your boss is telling you but you’re so exhausted you zone out for half of it. when you notice you end up paying harder attention to the second half of what he says and when he asks you a follow up question you bullshit it perfectly but walk away not knowing everything you should. you end up pissing off a customer on accident, it’s not even your fault really they’re just venting their frustrations at you. but you take it personally and cry in the back during your lunch break. sometimes you feel so worthless at your job. two co-workers are whispering and giggling in the same room as you. you know it could be anything they’re talking about but deep inside you fear they’re laughing at you. was your hair looking particularly awful today? was it because you’re fat? was there something stupid on your back? did you say something terrible you’d forgotten? you never find out the answer.
anxiety is going straight home after work because you’re too afraid to go out and try to do something new.
anxiety is logging on to your favorite social site because it’s the only means of positive interaction you have anymore. you’ve successfully alienated all of the friends you ever made during your teenage years. all you have are the faceless people you’ve met online. you like the same things, you feel comfortable talking to them, sometimes they even have the same problems as you. you feel a little sad thinking if you had met on the street you never would have given them the time of day to get in your life because you’d be too busy making excuses to never see them again. there’s a discussion of meeting at a mutual gathering and your hands are shaking as you type. you write how excited you are but deep down you’re scared they are all going to hate you. but they’re all so wonderful to you in a way you’ve never felt before. they comment on how much they like the things you create and encourage you to do more. for the first time in your life you feel motivated to do something positive for yourself because they are all cheering you on.
anxiety is telling you it’s all lip service and secretly every single one of them is annoyed by your very existance.
anxiety is this story sitting in your draft queue for several days because you are terrified of anyone getting this deep into your mind.
therapy is publishing it anyway.
11 5 / 2012
~~I’m not entirely happy with this but I was having a sadface day so you get it anyway~~
“So you finally get it, there are no heroes, mankind is doomed.”
Rock jumped back to his feet and readied his arm cannon, just one more blast is all it would take. His brother was weak and he could end this battle now.
The crowd looked on, excited for the dramatic climax promised to them. The small distraction from their bland and dark lives was little more than brief entertainment. They called him their hope, but had no idea what that word meant. They cheered and screamed for him, raising their fists in the air but not once daring to raise them to their own oppressors.
And if Rock won well, then what? His brother would be dead and these people would…what could they possibly do? If they couldn’t even open their mouths to speak up for themselves how could they possibly rebuild and operate a new life for themselves? Would they even want to try?
He knew the answer.
These people were not worth the death of his brother twice.
Rock lowered his arm and helped the beaten Blues back to his feet. The people stopped cheering; their eyes and mouths wide open in familiar fear. This was not the grand finale they had expected.
“You’re right” Rock whispered, every ounce of his spirit breaking. “You’re right. So what happens now?”
Blues’ face showed a flash of disappointment, before covering it in a smirk. Wily gave him the answer with a wave of his hand.
“Kill them all.”
The two followed the robot army tearing into the crowd. Without a moment’s hesitation he found himself turning his fists to flesh and bone. Blood splattered his helmet. How dare you want this. How dare you create this. How dare you sit in silence and allow all of this. They had turned their backs on his family, all of them, and they would all face their due sentence.
At the back of the crowd their father stood. He had run out of tears to weep. It didn’t matter what he did, Wily had and would continue to take everything from him and turn it against everything he stood for. His life’s work never meant anything. He quietly apologized to the people he had failed and hoped his sons wouldn’t recognize him n the bloodshed.
10 5 / 2012
Your prompt just tore my heart in half and I don’t know if I want to take it straight up sadface or make it stupid to save my tears so give me a day or so to do that one justice
10 5 / 2012
The spare room was dusty and smelled like mold. Obviously this was a room that was meant to be locked away and forgotten. Part of her felt like maybe she was intruding on the kind man’s hospitality by venturing in here, but if she could find anything of use, or better yet maybe even a record player, it would be worth it.
She started with a pile of boxes and dug through crumpled newspapers and hole-filled clothing until she found something interesting. A book, thin and small with a light blue cover. She sat down on the floor and flipped through it. It was filled with photos, most of them with only a beautiful young woman. Her smiling face gave her an uncomfortable sense of deja vu.
Among the worn photos were a few letters, love letters she discovered upon reading one. She felt too intrusive reading any of the others.
On the last page was a large photo of three people. One was the girl, the other looked like the doctor, only much younger and brighter. The two were holding hands and looking ecstatic at the camera. The third was another young man who looked none too pleased to be in the shot. After staring at his face for several minutes it finally clicked in her head who he was, and what this picture meant.
Hands shaking, she put the book back and left the room, locking the door behind her.
10 5 / 2012
~~whoops I ended up liking this a lot and I’m gonna write more???~~~
Lucille was not amused. Her student was the only one with the raw potential powerful enough to unite the Starlight Mages under a single banner and end the ages old feud. Samera was brimming with so much energy that there was no second guessing her place as the one the prophecies had spoke of.
And yet, here she was, wasting the time she should’ve been spending meditating on the pinnacles of ancient Neptunian wisdom trying to cook.
"Samera, what have I told you about this cooking business? There will be plenty of time to ‘chase your dreams’ AFTER the Blackhole Union is defeated….AND BACON AND EGGS DO NOT GO IN SPAGHETTI." Lucille screeched, this girl was making her lose her mind.
"But I was hungry and chef wasn’t feeling well so I thought I’d take over his duties for the night. Besides! Cooking is a lot like spell casting, it involves careful following of precise instructions, herb mixing, arithmetic, and application of natural sciences." Samera grinned, completely clueless to her instructor’s growing impatience. "So in a way, I AM studying! Oh, and bacon and eggs DO go in spaghetti, when it’s spaghetti carbonara."
Lucille made a face that displayed her disgust at the idea. Why must this child make everything so difficult?
"Oh come on Ms. Lucille, I’m sure you’ll like it if you just try! You can do that, can’t you?” she smiled as innocently as she could.
"No." Lucille said. "No, I have completely lost my ability to can.”
09 5 / 2012
Oh yeah and this blog is always always open to drabble prompts if there’s anything you’d like to see written and though I can’t guarantee they’ll be filled quickly, they will be filled “eventually”.
I’ll do fills for MLP, Protomen askblag verse (but not the actual Protomen), Legend of Korra, Dragon Age, and any sort of original idea you wanna throw my way.
As of right now the “no porny things” rule still applies as I’m inexperienced in writing that stuff but that may change with time.