Genocidal space women 6/28/14

After playing through Bioshock Infinite, I was inspired. My friend and I talked about this mystical floating space city and I ran with the idea, turning it into something unique and, hopefully, poignant. Here's a rough start to what will hopefully become a classic finish.


ooo


She stood steadfast against the pouring rain as she waited expectantly on the docks. The choppy waves threatened to overcome the rugged wood, but her gaze didn't falter from the sea. "I don't know what you're looking for out here, miss, but it certainly can wait for a better day." The unexpected voice caused her to jump and nearly slip on the slick, rain soaked lumber. The lighthouse's beacon swept across the barren ocean waters, much to her disappointment. She turned and saw a squat woman heralding her from a nearby shanty, beckoning her inside for a reprieve from the storm.

"I'm expecting a ride; one I can't afford to miss." She stepped off the docks and walked toward the shelter, deciding the ocean wouldn't birth a boat in the near future.

The woman stepped back, allowing her inside. "Only ride you'll get in this weather is one straight to heaven." The shanty held a welcome warmth after the cold of the wind and rain. She took off her rain slicker and laid it on a chair, shaking out her wet hair. She had been wearing a hat at some point, but the ocean had claimed that when she first arrived.

"Thank you for allowing me shelter." She shivered as water from her hair dripped down her back. "I can't stay long. My boat should be here any moment."

The woman offered her a blanket, which she took gladly. "What's out there for you that's so important?"

She reached into a pocket and pulled out a drenched paper. She carefully unfolded it and set it on the table. It was smudged and the folds were starting to come apart, but it was still legible. "I was told to find this place and to keep the information hidden from anyone inland." The paper depicted a city that appeared to be floating in the night sky. Above were the words 'Regeneration Island! We can do it all here!' in a speech bubble, spoken by a smiling woman. "I have business here."

The woman squinted at her before turning and grabbing a book, pawing through the tattered pages. "That place looks marvelous. Er, what did you say your name was, sweetheart?"

"Oh, I didn't. The name's Annalise Grey," she paused, "Maycomb. Annalise Maycomb. I'm not sure why I said Grey. I suppose these storm clouds have effected my mind." The woman gave a halfhearted laugh. "And what's your name?"

"Most people tend to call me the gate keeper."

"Gate keeper?" Annalise inquired as she put the paper back into her pocket. She glanced anxiously at the door, wondering about the status of the ship.

The gate keeper placed the book back on the shelf and walked toward one of the walls. She ran her hand along it before stopping with a sound of discovery. She gripped the spot and pulled. The wall slid away with some difficulty. Annalise stepped back, unsure what to think. "Yes, Annalise Maycomb. It suits me because I'm usually the one ushering people on their correct path as opposed to staring ignorantly out at the sea." She motioned to a staircase that had been revealed.

"What are you talking about? I should really get back in case the ship has arrived." Annalise slowly walked backwards toward the door.

The gate keeper sighed in mild annoyance, as if this were common place for her. "There is no ship. That's just their way of seeing who's serious. Considering you've been out in that weather for about an hour now, I'd say you're as serious as they come. If you want to get to Regeneration Island, we have to take the stairs."

"I don't understand." She backed into the door and groped blindly for the knob.

The gate keeper massaged her forehead as if this were a great chore for her. "Marrissa Campbell was the name attached to that flyer you received. You have business with her." Annalise stood still, her escape attempt forgotten.

Annalise considered the stairs, stepping cautiously forward. "You've heard of Marissa? I spoke to her breifly. She offered me work."

The gate keeper motioned to the stairs once more. "And you'll find plenty if you follow me. I promise you that if we get down there and you don't like what you see, you can go back to waiting for transport that will never come."

Annalise took a deep breath and walked briskly forward, taking the lead down the stairs as the gate keeper waddled behind her, shutting the wall behind them. She turned, looking at the dark barrier behind them. It was with great effort she continued forward, breathing evenly with her footsteps, counting the stairs for comfort. As the number approached the hundreds, she conceded defeat. The numbers had calmed her, but the feeling of unease lingered.

"I always forget how long this staircase is," the gate keeper huffed, out of breath. Annalise didn't respond as they finally reached the bottom. A flickering light and walls of darkness greeted them at the bottom. Stumbling forward, the gate keeper ran her hand against the wall as before. It slid away revealing a large, open room lit by moonlight. In the center was what appeared to be a spacecraft.

"What is this place? Why is the weather so calm here?" She was drawn to the craft in the middle. Man had barely taken baby steps in space and here was a contraption better fit in a television show about extraterrestrial life. "What is this?"

The gate keeper rolled her eyes. "You ask too many questions, or rather, you don't ask the right ones." She hobbled over to where Annalise was running her hand along the smooth, metal surface of the craft. "This is the ship for which you've been waiting so patiently."

So many questions ran through her mind, but she doubted the gate keeper would comply with answering them. "What happens next?" She finally managed.

"That's up to you." This was all so hard to take in and not something she should even be considering, she told herself. She pulled out the flyer once more and turned it over in her hands. She had nothing to her name save a few dollars. No home, no family, no responsibilities beckoning her to return.

"I have nothing to lose."

The gate keeper nodded. "That's what I wanted to hear." She opened the door of the vessel and climbed into the metal interior. She stood expectantly at the door, awaiting Annalise to enter. With a deep breath, she followed, dropping the flyer in the process. It skittered along the ground, blown by the wind. The two climbed into seats at the very front of the ship, belting themselves in. The gate keeper interacted with the control panel of levers, switches, and buttons that seemed to be placed at random.

"Oh, one more thing," the gate keeper said, reaching for something beside her. "We can't have you knowing the path to paradise." She produced a metal rod and smacked Annalise with the blunt instrument, who slumped over and knew no more.

Crystal Echo: The Revolution 4/4/14

Sequal to the earlier zombie story thing. I have weird dreams.

ooo

I (different than my experience in my last dream, it's just the person I was experiencing the dream through) was surviving with a group of three friends. It was actually at the end of the zombie/alien invasion that happened in my last dream. M...ost of the alien/zombies had been defeated using the altered signal from the phone. Through satelites and other technologies, the aliens had been vastly reduced and the rest were being fought off mostly on Earth with those who were left in the military trying to set up an aerial defense. It was still a threat to humanity and many humans were still dying due to attacks. Without anyone that could launch a satelite or the means to do so, there was no way to mass get rid of the zombliens.

A defense force had been set up with a means to broadcast the signal in short radiuses and we were part of that with special jackets that were taken off dead military who were killed when first tried to defend against the zombliens when they first arrived. It was me, a very opinionated chubby girl, a lanky girl, and a big built gentle dude that served as a voice of reason for the group. We were traveling through what had been a city responsible for shipping goods, train stations, all that good stuff. We were mostly making sure any ZB bodies we came across were dead. The entire country was slowly but surely being combed, with about 15% of cities declared safe. An initial team would go in during their dormant recharge time and then a following team (our position) would do a sweep of the bodies to make sure none were left behind.

We were scanning and goofing around, making jokes, and the chubby one was doing puppetry with one of the ZB bodies. We told him to stop, he was being a jerk, when the lanky girl told him to stop. Turns out that it hadn't been adequitely scanned. It attacked her and she was brutally injured. Big guy managed to get it off of her and I zapped it and killed it. We didn't know if lanky was still alive or not. We abandoned our post and ran back to HQ. They took her to the hospital tent, which at this point had little to no supplies left. We were asked what happened. Chubby guy kept butting in and interupting our story, getting the blame off of himself. Big guy managed to calm everyone down because I was REALLY mad at chubby. We were dismissed for further instruction later and our scanning gear was taken from us and given to another team to finish the job.

We fought and Big calmed us as we waited in our room. We then lamented over Lanky. Chubby kept saying she'd be fine. I was being more realistic about her chances. Chubby accused me of being a deserter. We kept fighting until Big yelled at us that that was enough. We then found out that we were no longer on scanning duty until Lanky recovered, if she would ever recover. We were transported to another city that wasn't near the coast. There, we were blended into a group of people. They were trying to make some semblance of a government for when we were able to get rid of the ZBs. It wasn't going so well. People had formed many factions and tight knit survival groups and they weren't keen on going back to what we had before now that anarchy was reigning thanks to the ZB invasion.

It was horrible. People arguing, no one getting along, gun fights breaking out, we all missed the days of scanning and fighting the occassional ZB. It was a far easier fight to win. And we had no way to know about Lanky.

After a few months of endless arguing and directing people where to go and only a handful of surviving politicians who cared enough to bring democracy back fighting with every nerd who had been prepped for something like this to happen, we finally received word that Lanky was, in fact, not dead. But we weren't given any word about returning to see her or get our old jobs back. Chubby said we should face it. We were stuck in a dystopian society that had no want to return to order and that it was kinda cool. He hated working real jobs for scraps. I wanted to leave, but I didn't want to get in trouble.

Big said we needed to listen to ourselves. Our friend is better and we're wanting to stay here. He pulled out a scanning device he'd swiped and said that he was going tonight and if we joined him or not was on us. He stormed out. I said he was right, but I wondered what they'd do if we arrived back. We'd seen so many people shot in the name of reforming democracy that I didn't want to go that way. Chubby agreed that it was lame. I waited up to talk to big, but fell asleep before I could.

We woke up and Big was gone. Chubby said good riddance. With the voice of reason gone, chubby became more and more anarchic. He even joined in with the shooting of an opposer. I just kept hoping to hear back from Big or Lanky. One night I was sleeping and Chubby woke me up. He said that a group found a way to start a train and they were taking it forward to a promised land. I asked him what the heck he was talking about. He looked high on something. (I'm leaving out a lot of chaotic details of this place). I followed him out of curiousity, cursing under my breath.

There was sure enough a train with a group of people that all looked about the same as chubby. He commanded me aboard, said I didn't want to be a traitor. They all had guns. I climbed aboard. The train took off into the night. I stood by the window, people shouting around me. I didn't dare sleep. I watched as the night became dawn. The train ran out of steam in another area near a station. We all hoped off. Many of the others looked scared and confused, but not chubby. He commanded us onward ad we took up residence in a nearby town. It was mostly clear of ZBs and there was a shelter that had been built from their bodies. We made shelter in the train and explored for scavenging the next day. There was a series of connected tents by old sheets and fabric where a few arabic families were residing. There were others, but they were the only important ones in the dream.

Chubby made deals with the others by force mostly. All except the arabic group. They weren't intimidated by him. I think he was subconciously intimidated by them because of that, though. He made himself the leader of this random city that a drug high forced him into. On "patrol rounds" that were ordained by him, I chatted with a few of the Arabic members. They were nice. The rest seemed to fear chubby's group. They didn't want trouble at least. And several had suffered deaths with chubby's trigger happy finger.

One night, Chubby came to me. Said it was time for me to take up a gun and that he could trust me. I asked him what he was talking about, we'd been friends for ages, of course he could (chubby reminds me of cartman). He said that that didn't mean anything anymore, it was anarchy. The ZBs weren't the biggest monsters anymore. He thought Big could be trusted and he had ran away, just like Lanky. I didn't bother to argue the point. There was something odd about him. He kinda freaked me out. He gave me a gun. Told me that he had watched me chatting to the Arabic group and that he wanted me to shoot the guy that stood watch over them. I told him no, he was insane. He told me only I could do it and that he needed to gain control. I asked him WHY and he told me that that was none of my business. I refused. I told him no.

He sighed and said that he was wrong about me. He then ordered some of the others, some that weren't starving from lack of food, to assasinate me. I turned and ran out of the train. He had them chase me. I ran and ran. I was looking around frantically. I saw the guy that usually stood watch over the Arabic tent. He motioned me in. I ran inside. He shoved me onto a cushion and covered me with blankets. The boys ran up to the tent and stopped. The guy yelled at them in Arabic and they backed off, turning and running.

He waited until they were long gone and then pulled me up. He told me that I could stay with them. He'd been watching that boy and he was trouble. I said that something was wrong with him; that he wasn't always this way. The guy told me that too much power and freedom will do that to someone. I stayed with them for a few days, but it became increasingly clear that chubby was going to stop at nothing to find me because I was "a traitor." The family was super nice and made sure I was fed and watered. I got up to leave one night, but the man stopped me. He said that now was not the time. I told him I had to because Chubby was going to come to kill me and I didn't want anyone here to get hurt. He told me to wait until morning. He'd been working on a plan.

He told me that there was a town nearby that had a bunch of messengers and people who were more informed than not with other major groups for the country and that they could help me find a place to be safe. He had been working on a costume and he and a few family members were going to escort me as far as they could. He showed me his wife had made an outfit for me that would cover me from head to foot with only my eyes showing and that his sister and her daughter would be wearing similar outfits. They were going to sneak me over, he was going to have a tamborine and his son would also have one, that we were going to dance and act as if it were a special holiday. They knew nothing of their culture, so they'd believe anything. I had seen his wife working on these. It was touching. I cried, asking him why he was helping me so much. He said that there was so much chaos and that someone had to be nice. Someone had to make people trust each other again. He told me to pay it forward and I agreed.

The next day, we set out. His sister's husband took over guard duty as we walked out. We started out dance as he and his son chanted an Arabic song, hitting the tamborines. We danced on toward the next town. Chubby's soldiers watched us warily. They didn't want to mess with us, a mixture of pre-ZB prejudice and not wanting to exert theirselves due to lack of food. We got pretty far when chubby himself showed up, wanting to know what was going on. The man spoke Arabic. He demanded that the women take off their outfits. His son spoke English and said no, against culture. Chubby held out a gun and said that he bet dying was against their culture. Guy yelled something in Arabic and then punched Chubby. Chubby held up the gun and attacked back, not firing. (out of bullets, guy assumes this, girl has no idea). Sister and her daughter grabbed me and ran as the men fought off Chubby. Chubby's soldiers stood back, barely helping.

I heard a gunshot. I paused, but sister and daughter kept me running. They ran with me until I could see the radio antenna for the next town. They wished me luck and passed me a bag of food to help me out. I thanked them and continued forward. When I reached the town, I folded my cover clothes up and put them in the bag.

Working at the antenna were two girls (the two from the previous story, one of them died in that dream, I forgot that detail) (which makes this the same city the last one ended in). I told them my story and the one girl (me from last dream) gave me a big hug. They used this information for me while I slept more than I ever had in the safety of what appeared to had been a mall. I woke and devoured the food in the bag, starving. There was also a note of encouragement. I cried at that. Days passed and I found out that Big had been reached. I was so happy to hear they were safe. Lanky had made a surprising full recovery. Big was gaunt but was more or less fine. I wondered where they were, but the information of their location hadn't reached me. I'm glad we were actually documented workers so that info was available.

After a long expanse of time, I was poked awake. A familiar poke. I woke up to see Lanky and Big standing over me. I hugged them, so happy to see them. We caught up, then I had to tell them about Chubby and what was happening. They both looked at me and we talked about it. We had to do something about it. The dream started to get hazy here. We went to chubby and confronted him bc it was our responsibility. Then he shot Bigs, he came to, realized what he'd done and shot himself. I slept from 3 pm one day to 8 am the next...soooo long dream.

Crystal Echo: The Signal

Cool zombie dream I had

ooo

I had a, we'll say for simplicity's sake, zombie dream. I was holed up in a random museum building with the rest of my class, having gotten stuck there when the earthquake marked the arrival of the zombie-non-human species, later confirmed to use certain corrupted technologies as its conduit for take over. This was the start. We didn't know anything. They kept promising that we'd go home soon and ...this was only temporary, but the longer we stayed, the clearer it was that this was not a temporary situation.

Eventually the electricity in the building was cut and none of us could contact our families any longer. The little building was falling apart, but military finally managed to take us to the first major holding area; a mall that had been organized by a team of local youth groups and pastors as a safe haven. I was reunited with my family there and we had actual food now.

Everything seemed perfect until my parents were using the phone to play a song to calm my sister. I was using a wheel chair as a seat. The phone is what allowed the crystal like structure to grow in and on my family and turn them into horrible zombie monsters. We were away from the others. I managed to get away using the wheel chair and had to watch what was once my family be shot down.

I still kept my phone. It had pictures of the happier times. After a month of grief, two other young adults who had experienced similar reached out to me. We became friends. It was through them I learned that the reason our numbers had been thinning is because they were killing or throwing out to the zombies people who refused to give up their phones and found in possession of a phone after the ban had been placed. The three of us had long ago disabled any sort of wifi or signal producing parts on out phone since there was no issue when taking or looking at pictures. We wanted to remember those we lost.

The pastor's wife of my old church did not and had never liked me. She found reasons to skimp me on our already dwindling food and just be a dick in general to me. We were always being kicked out of restricted places when we tried to enter to kill boredom. Soon a ban was placed on restricted places with a similar consequence as using phones. And the food was essentially gone, but none of the higher ups were willing to admit defeat. Many were uneasy and the thrill of a shopping mall grew sour.

We decided to escape. There was a certain time of day that the crystal structure zombies seemed to become less active, absorbing energy from the sun. We were nearly killed and caught at every corner as we tried to escape. It was only with dumb luck that we got through the area and were able to leave without them gunning us down.

We walked around immobile structures and ran as fast as we could, taking shelter in buildings. They were blind and communicated and detected things using signals that couldn't pass through buildings if there wasn't a way to broadcast their signal inside. So we were safe. We traveled that way, eating what we could, until we reached another colony of people. They took us in and were really nice. They, too were low on food, but they fed us interesting creations. I remember they had a Reese cup there and it was the best thing I had ever eaten at that point after everything.

Once the food was out, there were no Forrest areas or anything to hunt for food around. So we would have to travel as a group. At one point during our stops, we found tanks. The military had been able to fight when the crystal zombies had first arrived and been in their infancy, but they had grown, developed, and multiplied far too much.

During our travels somewhere, I was messing with my phone pocket and it fell on a crystal. I was afraid that it would awaken the creature or be noticed, but neither was the case. I quickly retrieved it and later that night, I noticed the pictures and text were garbled. I forgot to turn it off. The next day, we stayed out too long and the crystal zombies awoke. They killed our group, but they didn't even notice us. We stayed close and traveled until we were in a small, tourist trap place.

We were confused. I then felt my phone vibrate. Indicating low battery. I realized it was on. I wondered if me dropping and screwing up my phone was the reason for us being safe, them taking out their phones to check. We charged it to be sure, using a solar charger we'd stolen from some mall. We then realized we weren't alone. Two gangly teen boys attempted to steal our phones, demon devices away. We fought them off as best we could until they ran out screaming, not mentally right after the almost year of dealing with this. The crystals overtook them outside and attempted to crush our building, until they calmed from their stimulation and continued on.

Over the next day, we tested the theory, and sure enough, my phone made us undetectable. We kept the solar charger plugged in and made our way through the zombies, stopping before dark. I don't know how long we traveled, eating what we could. We arrived, nearly dead, at another shelter.

This one was in a HUMONGOUS mall. There were military and researchers there. As well as religious zealots that had formed a cult. We stayed far away from them. We managed a peaceful, if not mischievous and explorative, existence. There were no stupid bans and the cult, while freaky, was ultimately harmless. It was kept well in check to prevent anything resembling sacrifices from happening.

We became friends with a researcher. He said the development of the cult had been fascinating to watch and a true show of the human nature and how it copes with the unknown.

After a few days, the talk of our arrival came up. He said he knew about the device. He saw it before we hid it and came in. We got defensive, my heart falling. I was terrified. He said that we weren't in trouble. They had experienced a similar thing before when certain experiments had been done, but they had nothing concrete and he wanted to hear my story.

Tired, I explained everything to him. He was excited since this supported his hypothesis. So he led us to a huge room guarded by a military friend of his where there was a huge, formed crystal structure, shaped like a cross, but not growing on one of the zombies. There had been a technology ban in most if the world, so signal producing devices hadn't been around.

He asked for my phone. After everything, I just asked if my friends and I would be guaranteed safe. For now and to the future. He assured it. I used my phone, taking one last look at my family. Memorizing every detail of them and their faces. I flipped through, looking at the pictures of before. I finally handed it over, too tired to shed any tears. He took it and placed it in the structure.

I then woke up feeling satisfied and tired. This had not been a restful sleep. It had also been a bizarrely complete dream, though I am filtering out a bit of dream non-sense. Crazy.

Folklore Online 2/4/14

I think the new My Little Pony series is cute. I'm planning on writing a novel with a MMORPG as the main focus, so I wrote a small doodle involving Princess Luna since she's a supposed gamer according to the fans. I have no intention to ever write more pony stories, but if I'm ever bit by the inspiration bug, I don't ignore it. Especially since I so rarely have time to write these days.

ooo

                Luna trotted around the room, anxious. She was not normally awake during this hour, but this was important to her. There was a package she couldn't miss and she figured that she may as well get used to being up at odd hours. She started to pace until a sharp knock came at the door. She galloped over excitedly and opened the door. The mail mare bowed deeply. "Your royal highness, I have a delivery for you."

                "Thank you, my subject. I appreciate your hard work." She bowed her head at him and took the package, closing the door. She galloped away to her quarters in a rush, nearly dropping the small, rectangular box. She closed the door to her room and locked it. She then excitedly tore the box open.

                "At last!" She exclaimed in excitement. Inside was an advance beta copy of a new game. Not many people had yet invested in the technology. After all, real life was plenty full of excitement with hydras, manticores, gryphons, and other fantastic beings running around. Chaos itself paid a visit to varying parts of Equestria. Life was plenty exciting, but something about the feel of a controller in her hoofs and watching a character on screen react to her will brought joy to her.

                "Folklore Online, a game that allows you to carry out your greatest dreams all while joining forces with your best friends. Dozens of classes and character creation aspects allow you to truly make this adventure your own," she read the back. Pictures of unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies, and even alicorns were shown fighting fantastical creatures and adventuring through a vast fantasy realm, enticing everypony to give the game a shot.

                Luna pulled out her gaming system and started loading up the game. The technology was still fairly new and graphics weren't yet what they could be, but the opening cinematic alone had her raring to play. This was supposed to be the one game that would finally bring gaming to the forefront of ponies minds and place the console as a staple in all homes in Equestria. Luna had, of course, signed up for the beta as soon as it opened. She had noticed a fair few gamers enjoyed playing long into her beautiful night, appreciating the calm and atmosphere it brought to intense online battles. She wished there had been more ponies such as these during her darker times.

                At the character creation screen, she paused, unsure of how to proceed. If she made the character look like her, everyone would immediately know she was the ruling princess that brought forth the moon. She could not remember a time when she didn't possess flight, magic, and the strength of an Earth pony. so she had to be an alicorn. There were other creatures she could choose from as well; gryphons, dragons, sea ponies, breezies, and so forth. Out of all of them, pony was the best fit.

                After agonizing over the details, she was finally satisfied with her creation; a white alicorn with a dark red mane and a cherry cutiemark. She named her CherryTop. Her special ability was finishing spells. In the character flavor text, she described her as always being able to finish things off just as a cherry was the perfect finish to every dessert. She selected create and waited for her character to be generated in the world.

                Night was quickly approaching and Luna had not slept at all since the previous one. She glanced at the loading bar, which was moving at a snail's pace. She yawned and decided to catch a few winks while her character loaded. The game could wait. Her duties could not.

                Despite her tiredness, she had once again kept the nightmares at bay and brought forth a beautiful night. Once her sister took over and brought forth the day with a glorious sunrise, she galloped as fast as she could to her quarters. "Just a few hours, Luna, then you must sleep," she promised herself. She turned the game on and loaded her character.

The Corner Laundromat at the Center of the Universe 11/1/14

"There's three things that will never change; people eat, people shit, and people have dirty laundry. Now I ain't a chef and I ain't wiping no ones ass, so I settled for this." My now manager motioned at the interior of the Laundromat. I grimaced as I took in the stained floor, dim lighting, and what I swore was a foot long roach scuttling across the floor. "So unlike those assholes at their coffee shops or their bars, I'm in a real sustainable business. That's job security right there."

The first paragraph from a novel I'm in the process of writing help sets the tone.  This story takes place at a dingy laundromat on a planetoid named V29 in the center of the galaxy. It's a pitstop planet with gas stations, convenience stores, a repair shop, a laundromat, a motel, and a bar. The most traffic it sees is during sporting events when all other nearby venues have been booked. The planet itself is always covered in night. While they have machines keeping the oxygen flowing, there was no bother to instal an artificial atmosphere or sense of day and night. People that live here are either escaping from something, extremely down on their luck, poor, or running away.

Which is where we come to our main character, Observer or Obsy for short. She had a wad of emergency cash, the bare minimum of belongings, and doesn't wish to disclose her name. What category would she fall under, especially considering she is obviously educated and her jacket is name brand. What of our other main characters? No one comes to this place through choice, but through necessity.

This story is character driven and focused around the laundromat and those that work there; two humans and three aliens. It's all about discovering what led each of the characters to this life with the central focus being on Obsy's mystery. The characters bounce off of her.

I obviously already know the ending. I know most of the stories as well. I'm allowing my characters to change that as I write since you never truly know a personality until you're knee deep in plot and backstory. It begins with Obsy arriving and it will end with her leaving. Those two facts aren't important. It's the meat of the story that is important. What is between the beginning and ending.

This was inspired from a story I had wanted to write. "My life and times at the Laundromat" would have been about the many stories I have experienced throughout my life from a variety of people. I was just a common thread observer tying everyone together. I decided to give it a fantastical twist because that would be far more interesting and I love writing environments. 

Embrace Eternity

Just a short drabble I wrote while waiting at church. I like writing about tired soldiers...

ooo

"What do the Asari say? 'Embrace eternity?' I think we should prepare to do that." Garrus fired a few shots, trying to break up the line before they had to forsake cover. "Whatever happens, we'll be together."
.
Shepard turned to him. There were bags under her eyes from countless hours of missed sleep, her face gaunt from the stress. Scars marked her face, telling wordless tales of battles fought and won. Her hair had premature grey peppered throughout her brunette cut. "Personally, I don't think I want to embrace eternity. I don't even want an afterlife. I just want to sleep and have all of this be over. I'm tired."
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Garrus nodded, understanding all too well. "Then let's embrace a quiet, dark slumber with no gunfire alarms to wake us."
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Shepard smiled, nearing the edge of their cover, their last sanctuary from the opponents' swarm. "I'm with you until the end."

Henry

It's been a long time since I updated with any writings. I generally haven't been because I've been so busy, but I found a 30 theme challenge and I'm going to try to keep writing even after that.

The first theme is, as always, beginning. This beginning I'm writing about refers to the start of the loss of imagination. Written while listening to:

~~~

Annie rocked back and forth atop a polished, wooden rocking horse. Her hair moved as she rocked, then wrapped around her shoulders and blew in the wind as the wooden horse transformed and she found herself galloping through the plain. She waved to the farmers she passed. One tipped his hat to her and blew her a kiss. Annie giggled and continued on her way. Her horse snorted as they picked up speed, shaking his mane. "Faster, Henry! We have to catch the sun! It's falling out of the sky!" She pointed forward at the horizon where the sun was indeed sinking toward the ground. Henry brayed and then jumped high off the ground. As he jumped, wings formed on either side of him and he flew through the air. Annie closed her eyes for a brief moment, enjoying the wind on her face and the feeling of complete freedom.

After a moment, she grabbed her lasso and began twirling it above her head. As it twirled, it grew bigger and bigger. She hurled it forward and caught the sun. "Steady, Henry!" She commanded as she tugged the rope with all her might. The sun slowly started to rise back into the sky. She let go of the rope and watched as the sun returned to its rightful place, high above.

"We did it! We did it!" She stood up. The sudden movement spooked Henry and she felt herself tumbling backward.

"Whoa, girl!" She looked up and saw her father’s face. He had caught her in his strong arms. "Now tell me, what did you do?" He asked playfully as he helped her to her feet.

"Henry and I used my lasso and pulled the sun back into the sky!" she looked out the window where the sun was sinking to spite her. "I think we have to do it again! We can't let the sun fall, then it'll be..." she trailed off.

"There's nothing wrong with the night, sugar." Her father smoothed her hair back, picking her up and placing her in his lap. Annie hugged him as tight as her little arms could.

"But if the night comes, then it’ll be tomorrow and you'll have to go." She looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes. Behind her, the sun was continuing its descent; crickets starting to play their sorrowful goodbye to the day.

"It's just for a few months," he explained softly, though Annie picked up on an uncertain tone in his voice. "The president needs me to help keep you and Mommy and Grandma Georgia and Grandpa Joe and all your friends at school safe."

"You can keep me safe here!" Annie protested, burying her face into his plaid shirt.

He laughed quietly, ruffling her hair. "If it only was that simple.” He stopped, coughing. Annie glimpsed up at him and noticed he also had tears in his eyes. “I'll write you every chance I get and I'll be back before you know it." He stood with her cradled in his arms. "Besides, you have ol' Henry to keep you company while I’m gone. I built him with love." He set her down on the seat.

"Yeah. And I'm going to try to keep the sun up one more time, okay?" Annie said with all the determination a five year old could muster.

Her father laughed. "And if that doesn't work, maybe you and Henry can speed up the days so I can be with you again that much faster."

"Yeah!" Annie called out, galloping off and leaving her father behind.

~~~

Every day after school, Annie would run to Henry and jump into his saddle. The two of them ushered out the sun and greeted the moon as fast as they could.

"Henry, whoa! There's a storm. I think it might be too dangerous!" Annie watched as several foreboding, grey clouds quickly approach over the horizon. Henry snorted and took off, soaring above the clouds. "Good thinking," she breathed, clutching to his mane as thunder rumbled loudly below them.

Suddenly a loud bell sound sent her tumbling to the wooden floor. Annie looked around, forgetting where she was for a second. The bell sounded again. "Oh! Mommy! Mommy! The door!" Annie danced around excitedly. The doorbell never rang. "I think Henry and I chased off enough days!"

"What? Joseph’s supposed to be gone for four more months." Her mother ran to the door and pulled it open. A man in a suit stood there with a helmet. He looked very sad.

"What's wrong?" Annie asked.

Her mom stepped back. "Annie, go into the other room," She commanded.

Annie looked up at the two of them and pulled Henry along with her. Normally her mom would yell at her about scuffing the wooden floors, but her mom was too busy whispering with the sad man to notice. "Why do grownups always send you out of the room to talk?" Annie asked Henry with a sigh. "Mommy and Daddy do it sometimes. I think they pretend they're using kung fu or something because they're always yelling." Annie kicked her foot, catching Henry. "Ow! Sorry about that. I'm better at riding than fighting."

Her mom was in the hall for a long time. She could hear loud noises and what sounded like her mom crying. This scared Annie. She hugged Henry and watched the doorway.

After what seemed to be ages, her mom finally came to her, holding the helmet the sad man had with him. "Did he give that to you?" Annie asked. Her mom stood there, looking lost. Annie didn't know if her mom realized she was crying. "Mommy?"

"Oh Annie." Her mom sank to her knees, clutching the helmet to her chest. "This was Daddy's."

"Doesn't he need it?" Annie asked, feeling scared and confused.

Her mom pulled her close. "Daddy, well," her voice was becoming choked with tears, "he's not going to be coming back."

Annie struggled free from her mom, tears forming in her eyes. "Why not? Where's Daddy?"

"Do you remember when your fish stopped moving and we told you he went to go live with God in the clouds?" Annie nodded her head, unable to talk. "Well, Daddy stopped moving while he was protecting us and..." Her mom stopped, unable to finish what she was saying as she started sobbing.

Annie stepped back, then grabbed Henry and ran away. Annie ran up the stairs into her bedroom and slammed the door shut. "Henry, we have to go back to above the clouds like we were before," Annie commanded desperately.

She jumped on him and rocked as fast as she could. She heard the creak of the horse as he moved back and forth. She could hear her own sobs. She couldn't hear the rumbling of the thunder clouds. She couldn't see the clouds nor the fields or the farmers. She couldn’t feel the wind on her face. She rocked desperately, closing her eyes as hard as she could, squeezing out the tears.

Finally she stopped, letting the horse still. She sat there, numb.

"Sweetheart," her mom said as she entered the room. She saw Annie sitting on the horse, not moving, and picked her up, hugging her as tight as she could.

Annie started sniffling. "Henry's broken. I can't go to the clouds. I can't save Daddy!" She sobbed loudly. Her mom sat on her bed and held her, shushing her. Annie cried and hiccupped until she drifted to sleep in her mom’s arms. She caught one final look at Henry as her dreams overtook her. He stood still.

Portal Drabble 11/10/11

GLaDOS watched her monitors, observing old human shows. Most of them were mindless shows about human relationships that were supposed to invoke laughter or cartoons targeted toward their young. These were equally useless as she sincerely doubted that friendship had anything to do with skills that would help them survive a future of testing.
“I cannot show them this. They’ll be even more incompetent than they already are,” GLaDOS thought on her new test subjects. Surely there had to be some record of a show that would motivate them.

“Bill Nye the Science Guy,” GLaDOS read from a file she discovered. Anything with science couldn’t be that bad. She accessed the file and waited expectantly.

She had only expected to access one file, but soon found herself watching all of them hungrily. They were so simple and yet spoke profoundly to her heart. She watched the human on her monitors and sighed. He reminded her so much of someone from another life.

Once she’d finished all the files, a great sadness fell over her. She used her cameras to observe the lab surrounding her chamber. There was no one around. Even the co-op bots were busy killing each other.

She then started the files over once more. For science, of course. “Are you ready to do some science?” Bill Nye asked enthusiastically.

“Yes sir, Mr. Nye,” GLaDOS hummed.

Lack of Cotton Candy 7/6/11

My soul is black, empty, a void.
Life is meaningless.
I watch the waves roll in the ocean,
it is all white noise, dull and forgotten.
There is no joy, there is no love
nothing will ever be enough.
My heart is empty.
Without you, there is nothing
to keep my life going on.
Without you, the amusement park
is just a black top of despair.
Without your sugary sustanence
I lose all meaning and all hope.
If only I had gotten one taste
one taste
then perhaps I could have lived on,
happy.

~~

The title truly says it all.

The lion Princess 5/17/11

I have always wanted to illustrate a kid's story using plush. I think this might just be the story. BEHOLD THE FIRST DRAFT. I really need to edit this. It's almost been two months.

~~

There was once a girl who was the princess of lions. She would stand with them when the sun rose, guide them through their hunts, and at night, she would stand guard over the pride alongside the king. His man was golden and beautiful. She loved to pet his mane, which never failed to make him purr. All the lionesses, the cubs, and even the king himself were content knowing that the princess was standing watch. It was a wonderful life, but it was lonely. The princess loved her lion friends, but there were no other humans. She felt guilty for her thoughts of loneliness because she knew it was her duty to watch over the lions on the savanna. Still, she couldn't control her thoughts as she imagined meeting another princess or even a prince. The rainy season came and went, new cubs were born and grew up, but the feeling inside the girl only grew with time until one day, the lions woke to find her gone. They roared as they looked for her, but it was no use. She was gone. In the middle of the night while all the lions were asleep, the princess had left the pride for only a moment to get a drink of water from the nearby watering hole. A crafty vulture was perched in a tree.

"You look lonely," he chirped. The princess ignored him, knowing what tricksters vultures could be. "You know, you watch those lions and make sure that they are happy, but what about you? Are you happy?"

The princess turned and looked at the vulture. "Of course I'm happy. My lions are protected and well fed and many cubs have grown up while I watched."

"Yes, but it's always about the lions. What about you? What about your needs and wants?"

The princess stopped and looked at her reflection in the watering hole lit by the moonlight behind her. "What about me..." she trailed off. When she looked up again, the vulture was gone.

The princess stood at her spot and watched her reflection until the sun began to rise. She began walking toward that horizon. She walked past giraffes and elephants. She walked until the moon and sun had traded places many times. Finally she stopped, tired. She sat to rest and noticed a village that she had never seen before. She entered the village and found many others like her, except instead of being dressed in the furrs of a lion, there were other furrs and even some feathers. There was a man with long stork feathers and another girl that wore cheetah spots. "Where am I?" she wondered.

"Ah, we were wondering when we would see the princess of the lions," the cheetah princess smiled. She hugged the lion princess and called out to the others, "She's finally here!" Many animal princes and princess' gathered around her. They gave her food and provided her with a place to rest. Afterwards, they played music and games and danced until the moon was high in the sky.

"This was so much fun, but I've left my lions," the princess worried.

The cheetah princess laughed, "Don't worry, they'll be fine for a few short days out of the year. You need your rest, too. All the princes and princess' come here to rest and have some time for theirselves. If you only care about others, you're bound to become lonely and a little crazy."

The princess nodded. It was true. After another day of rest, she waved goodbye to her new friends and set back to her lions. She missed them and they all missed her. She explained to them that once a year, she would need to leave to have some time for herself. The lions were happy that their princess was happy and the princess was happy that her lions were happy. And so once a year, the lion princess makes a stop at the royal village to have some time for herself and returns refreshed and ready to lead a new generation of cubs to a bright future.

Gengars are jerks 3/24/11

I wrote a flash fiction based on a photo I saw. It's just a little something. All ghost pokemon want to kill you or steal your soul.

~

Cami looked at the basketball hoop above her. There was such a thick fog that the red rim was mostly obscured from vision. She took a step forward, grasping the pole in her hand, feeling the cool metal against her palm. It was soothing. She placed her cheek, warm with fever, against it. It sent a chill down her back. She nearly jumped when she heard the sound of a bouncing basketball from behind her. She turned and stopped the ball with her foot, bending down to pick it up. There was no one else in site. She took a few steps, turning every which way, but there was no one. With a shrug, she turned back to the faint red hoop, aimed, and shot. It hit the rim and almost went in before it bounced away. Cami ran after it. The ball kept rolling with no sign of slowing, but still, she gave chase. Finally the ball slowed and she caught it, holding it in her arms. When she turned to leave, she noticed the headlights of a truck. It was the last thing she noticed.

"Gengar," a ghostly shadow rose from the ground, forming into a large, purple Pokemon. It laughed, grabbing the ball from what was a little girl. It then flew over to the hoop and threw it inside. Score one for the hometeam.

Pitterpatter rough 3/14/2011

I finally ended up turning this in to my creative writing class. Essentially, this is just a plot outline for a novel idea (and a rushed one, inspiration truly left me for this critique) so things are rushed and seem to happen randomly and don't have the lead-up I want. I've gotten so much great feedback for this story, though and ways to change it. I truly hope I can turn it into the novel I really want it to be. So yeah...first drafts always suck, especially when those first drafts are just outlines.

~

The sound of the pitter-patter of little feet could no longer be ignored. It woke Anne almost nightly and interrupted her routine with strange, unexplainable urges. She could pass a Babies-R-Us on the way to work, or find a misplaced onesie in the food aisle at Wal-mart. Even seeing a commercial for one of those baby programs would make her long for a child. Whatever brought upon the urge, the march of little feet would run rampant through her consciousness. There were some slight problems, though. First, Anne was unmarried and her executive position kept her that way by dishing out long hours and hard projects. She was paid well, so she couldn't complain, but her dating life had become nonexistent as a result. Second, her one person apartment was barely enough room for her, let alone another who would be curious about every dust bunny and dirty sock. And third, she was sterile after a medication mishap during her teenage years.

She tried her best to drown out the constant march by putting in her headphones and turning up the music. That didn't deter the feet. They instead became the tempo for the song. With a sigh, she gave up and let them continue on their way.

~

It was a Friday night and instead of barhopping with friends, Anne found herself considering a kumquat in the Wal-mart produce section. The fruit was small and oval shaped. It looked almost like an orange, but smelled different. She threw the fruit back into its proper bin and finished fishing out a few nice, ripe blood oranges. Breakfast was never complete without a good orange. She continued through the produce, then made her way to the greeting card section. Her nephew's birthday party was the next morning and, as usual, she had waited until the last moment. It wasn't that she was lazy, she was just a procrastinator. Cleaning, cooking, and shopping for special occasions and holidays all took a back seat to her portfolio work. She grabbed one of the cards with cars on it, figuring that boys loved cars. She then swung by electronics. Her sister was low on money and wanted her to pick up some Call of Duty game for his birthday.

"Excuse me," she heralded the cashier.

He trudged over with a grunt. She observed his double-no, triple-chin wobbling as he spoke. "What can I help you with?" he rasped, seeming to gasp for air like a fish out of water.

"Can you tell me what the newest Call of Duty game is? I need to buy it," she said curtly.

The man looked her up and down. “I wouldn’t take a pretty thing like you for a gamer,” he laughed.

"Just answer the question,” she said as business-like as she could.

"Sheesh, fine." He waddled to a case and pointed the game out to her. The sixty dollar price tag jumped out at her. She remembered back to when she and her sister Kate would pick up games for the Gameboy they both shared; their combined allowance enough for a game. Unlike most sisters, they had been able to share and take turns with little argument or fuss. "Want me to get it out for you?"

"Yes," she said shortly, disliking every moment that she was stuck dealing with the man. He lumbered back to the counter and rang the game up for her. "Can you also ring up the card and oranges? I really don't want to fight those lines up front." She asked hopefully.

"I can do the card, but the oranges need to be weighed, so you'll have to take them up there." Anne sighed, passing the card to him and sliding her debit to complete the purchase. As she had feared, the few registers that were open had lines twisting through the clothing department. Even the express lane was backed up and moving just as slowly as the others. She entered the line that she deemed least crowded and began to wait, something she wasn’t good at.

As if by some strange karma, the line she had chosen had an ancient cashier that looked older than God himself. She was rolling cans of cat food slowly across the scanner. Anne tried not to watch because it would only made her more aggravated. "I can help someone in the next line!" She heard the cashier beside her line call, though her attempt to raze the line was fruitless; it was soon just as full as the others. Anne hadn't even bothered to move, knowing she'd just end up in the same place, if not farther back.

"Price check," her cashier called on the intercom. The statement cracked something inside her.

"Oh come on!" she shouted.

The man in front of her chuckled. "I think Wal-mart does this on purpose. They know they have the lowest prices and so they can treat their customers however they please because we'll keep coming back."

“Tell me about it." Anne shook her head. She sighed as she watched the cashier stand nervously to the side; apologizing to the impatient woman she was ringing up. The woman was shouting profanities and gesturing violently. The old cashier shook her head, holding her hands up in an attempt to placate the woman.

Finally Anne gave up, having reached the end of her patience. She had her main purchases and the oranges weren’t that important. "Good luck with the line," she said to the man in front of her and ducked out of line, ditching the bag of oranges on top of display of clothes. She left, glad to be out of the store. She made her way to her car, fumbling in her purse for her car keys. She finally found them and pushed the unlock button. Nothing happened. "Great,” she grumbled, manually unlocking the door and checking to see if she had left the lights on. She hadn’t. She then tried to start the car, but the engine refused to turn.

She got out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Leaning against it, she pulled out her cell phone, planning to call Kate to see if her husband could swing by and see what was wrong.

"Drop the phone," she heard a harsh male voice demand. She looked up and noticed a man dressed in all black beside her, gun raised. She did as instructed, dropping the phone back into her purse. She held her hands up, backing away slowly. "Give me your money!"

Anne doubted it would be that simple. She had heard about a string of murders on the evening news. Each started with a hold up in the parking lot of some store and ended with the victims in the morgue. "You're going to murder me either way. Don't make it seem like I have a choice," she spat. She realized arguing with a serial killer at gun point was extremely foolish, but if she was going to die anyways, she wasn't going down without a fight.

"You bitch," he shouted, lunging forward and hitting her square on the nose with the butt of the gun. She stumbled back onto the side mirror, hands rising instinctively to her face. "Give me your money now!"

Anne looked around, but there was no one close enough to help. If she screamed, she was sure it would end with a bullet to her brain. She reached into her purse cautiously, ready to pull out her wallet. She saw that the man was intent on her head and the trigger rather than her purse. In one fluid motion, she swung and hit him with it. He staggered back, cursing. He cocked the gun. Anne swung her purse again, hitting his hand and knocking the gun to the ground. She scrambled to the ground and picked the gun up, putting her hand on the trigger and firing. She was startled by the recoil and the piercing sound. The sound of blood and brain matter hitting the ground reminded her of the pitter-patter of rain. The pitter-patter of...

All this happened in a split-second. She sat on the ground, dropping the gun in disbelief. She heard a buzzing coming from her purse. The phone. She pulled it out. It was her sister. She ignored it so she could call 911.

The moments went by in a blur. She was sore from having fired the gun and when the ambulance arrived, the EMT checked her out. She was going to develop a few bruises from her fall and her nose was badly bruised, but not broken. She answered countless questions from the police. The man was indeed the serial killer. Someone that worked at Wal-mart had given her a water bottle. The killer had cut the wires on her car so she couldn’t get away. After everything was finally over, one of the police officers offered to take her home. He arranged to have a tow truck get her car. Anne climbed into the passenger seat of the police car, just wanting to be home.

"You're lucky to be alive. That was some pretty fast thinking back there." Anne didn't respond, eyes focused out the window. "We'd been tracking him for months with little success. He was always fast and clean with his work," the officer continued as if he didn't notice Anne's obvious silence. His ramblings became white noise as Anne tried not to think. They finally arrived back at her apartment complex. "We'll be calling you for more information and follow up later. Take care." With that, he pulled away.

She climbed the three flights to her apartment. She opened the door and locked it behind her mechanically. She walked into her bathroom, turning on the light and studying her face. There was some blood on her clothes. She striped them off, throwing them in the tiny trashcan beside her toilet. They spilled onto the floor, unable to fit in the can already full of used tampons and tissues. She left the bathroom without bothering to turn off the light. She slid a pair of pajama pants on and fell onto her bed.

It was already very early in the morning and sleep felt good. The last thing on Anne's mind before she succumbed to slumber land was the phantasmal pitter-patter sound she always heard. This time, however, the sound was off; the tempo new.

~

Balloons shaped like stars and baseballs adorned the perfectly green lawn that Kate's husband took such extreme care in managing. The bushes were all evenly trimmed and spaced apart. "Stanley, have you put the burgers on yet?" Kate called, searching for her husband behind the smoky grill.

"Just did," he gave her a grin and a thumb's up. Stanley and Anne both worked at the same office, but the two never really knew what to say to each other, Anne finding him to be a dork and Stanley finding her to be a prude.

She smiled at him, turning to her sister. "Anne, are you sure you're okay enough to be here? I would have understood, you poor dear."

Anne shook her head. "I'm fine." Kate gave her a dubious look. "Okay, I'm not fine, but I just didn’t want to be alone. I thought maybe getting out would help or something. Plus I couldn't miss Huey's big day."

Kate sighed, enveloping her sister in a hug. "You do too much, hun. You work so much overtime and then after an ordeal like yours, you just go back to routine. I don't know how you do it."

"What else can I do?" Anne mumbled, looking away as the mothers of Huey's friends approached Kate. They then began their garroulous chatter about their husbands and their children. Anne was unable to contribute to either topic, so instead she grabbed a drink from the outdoor bar and sat on a lawn chair by the pool. The sun soaked through her black clothing, making her uncomfortably warm. Though bright colors would have been preferable in the summer heat, it was all she could do to not come in her pajamas.

She watched the children running around and playing. Huey was turning twelve and would be going to middle school once the summer ended. Middle school had been where she remembered being forced into training bras and into finding a boy to crush on. Kate had always been ahead in those areas, but Anne never minded. She enjoyed rough housing with the boys more than sitting awkwardly with them at a football game. She still did, for that matter.

She was interupted from her childhood musings by her sister. "Alright," Kate turned, clapping her hands. The children stopped playing and turned. "Who's ready for lunch and cake?" A chorus of me's followed her as the kids ran to the fold out tables that she'd set out for the occasion. Burgers and hotdogs were served first. Anne had grabbed a burger, but was unable to eat. The pink meat inside reminded her of skin tissue. She tore the meat into small peices, musing about the night before. She walked over to the trash can and held her plate so they cascaded off, hitting the bottom with a pitter-patter.

Finally it was cake time. Everyone joined in a rousing chorus of happy birthday. At the conclusion, Huey blew out the eleven candles, making a wish. Everyone ate cake while Anne stood off to the side, watching the smoke that danced upward from the candles. She felt something within her want to dance along with the smoke.

She suppressed the urge as Kate announced that it was time to open presents. This was every child's favorite part. She watched as an assortment of sports gear and nerf guns began to pile in front of Huey. He opened the game she had bought for him and jumped in joy, running over and hugging her. She hugged him back with a smile. Something about the hug of a child was always genuine. His last present was a brand new bike, which he rode around the yard. He had wanted to play with the guns, but Kate shooed the kids inside to play the new game, figuring the sight of a gun war wouldn't be the best thing at a time like this.

The adults helped clean up as the children fired up the Xbox inside. "Thank you again for getting the game for him," Kate said. "He's wanted that game for ages."

"It was no problem. It reminded me of back when we'd buy video games together." Anne dropped a stack of plates coated with frosting into the trash.

"Except Mother would die if we got anything so violent," Kate laughed. "I think even Mario was too violent for her."

"Tetris was probably too violent for her." Anne shook her head. Stanley was scrapping the grill clean beside them. Bits of burnt meat fell to the ground as he shook the metal brush clean. "What would she think of me now?" Anne asked quietly.

"Oh Anne," Kate grabbed her sister's hands, "you only did what you had to so you wouldn’t be killed. She would have done the same thing in your position. Just be thankful you're able to enjoy this beautiful day." As if to encourage Anne, a gentle breeze carressed her face. "Why don't we go inside for some tea? Stanley, you've got it from here, right?"

"Of course I do. You guys run on inside." Stanley motioned as he grabbed the hose so he could wash away the residual meat into the grass.

Everyone filed inside. Kate bustled about, turning on the stove and finding her teapot. Anne leaned against the doorway between the kitchen and living room, watching Huey and the others staring up at the screen and cheering. Gunshots rang out from the screen. Anne could almost hearing the deafening shot from last night echoing off the walls. She remembered holding the gun. She remembered the rain of blood and brain hitting the ground.

"I have to go," she turned. The ladies all eyed her warily. "Sorry sis."

"Don't apologize, you just do whatever you need to. Stanley can take you home." Kate gave her an empathetic look. Anne waved and stumbled out the door.

Instead of bothering Stanley, who was singing some rock ballad to himself, she turned and walked home. The two didn't live far away from each other anyways, so there was no need for a ride. She could call a cab anyways. It was a beautiful Saturday and many of the neighborhood's children were running through hoses or slipping down slip and slides. On days like this, Anne liked to take her laptop outside and catch up on her work and portfolios. She was now behind and she didn't care, though thinking about work was better than what she would think of if her mind was left to its own devices.

She finally passed through the neighborhood and was in the city. Most of the stores were closed for the weekend. The only open stores Anne could see were a curio store full of scented soaps and handmade dolls, a bakery thick with the aroma of fresh pastries, and a pawn shop; its windows crowded with DVDs, golf club sets, old TVs, and an old revolver. She paused, placing a hand on the glass as she looked down at the sleek silver barrel.

She hadn’t realized how long she’d been there until the door clanged open. The sound made her jump. "I saw you lookin' at that old colt. We got more like it inside if you want to come see." The owner looked down at her. He looked every bit like a typical redneck gun club member.

            “No, I just,” Anne turned, walking away, ignoring his protests and attempts to sell her something.

~

That Monday she arrived late to work. She had picked up yesterday's paper and read it with her breakfast. The first thing she saw was the face of her attacker glaring up at her. After her initial shock of seeing him, she examined his face. He was so young looking. Stubble marred his cheeks, but did nothing to age him. He would have been handsome had this not been a mug shot. The headline above read 'local woman brings end to woman killer.' She devoured the article, ignoring her meal.

When she finally made it to the office, many of the people either said their condolences or avoided her. Usually she was greeted and had a cup of coffee placed into her hand before she reached the door to her own office. She entered her office to find a note on her desk asking her to meet with the company's president. This couldn't be good.

"Mr. Higgins?" she asked as she stepped into his office, shutting the door behind her.

"Have a seat Ms. Long." He motioned to one of the leather chairs in front of his desk with a beefy hand. She took one, sitting down gently. "I simply want to ask you about what happened this weekend. I’m very sorry. How are you fairing?"

"I'm managing." She looked down at her lap.

"I'm glad to hear. Now you know if there’s anything I can do for you, I’d be more than happy to." He offered.

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” Anne said.

Mr. Higgins cleared his throat before continuing, "I don't want you to take this the wrong way as I have your best interests in mind, but I'd like you to take your vacation time now. You have quite a bit of time accumulated.” Anne looked up, opening her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to protest. “I know you, Ms. Long. You'd work yourself to death if we let you. You just went through a traumatic event. We have a big assignment coming up and I don't want to put this on you if you won't be able to give it your all and I'm sure you could use that time to yourself to cope. You'll receive paid vacation, of course."

Anne stood. "Taking time to myself isn’t going to help me cope. All I do when I have a quiet moment alone is remember that night. I need something to keep me busy."

"And I need someone who will be 100% focused and I just don't think you'll be able to do that right now."Mr. Higgins coughed. "Just take a week and see how you feel."

"Yeah," Anne sighed, eying slightly balding man in front of her. She then looked past him out the window. It was another beautiful summer day. "You’re right." She admitted. It really was for the best that she took a vacation now since she wouldn't be able to focus on anything high profile at the moment, but she could have really used the distraction. She thanked her boss and gathered her things, driving back to her apartment and replacing her business suit with an old pair of pajamas.

The next two days were spent huddled on her bed with the TV on watching whatever show happened to be on the channel 9. Dr. Phill acted as if he understood people he really didn't. She would like to bet Dr. Phil had never been poor nor had he ever been abused or whatever else he acted like he was an expert on. Oprah was mostly the same way. A local news program interrupted to bring details of the murderer. She changed the channel at that, flipping whenever a show went to commercial, not catching the end to anything. She slept whenever she happened to fall asleep and woke whenever she happened to wake up. By evening on Wednesday, she received a knock at her door.

"Open up right now," she heard her sister demand on the other side. With a groan, Anne managed to will herself out of bed and opened the door. "Your phone goes directly to voice mail and Stanley said you weren't at the office. After the way you left on Saturday, I've been worried sick." Kate kept rambling on with various lectures until she was seated at the kitchen table and being handed a glass of iced tea, which she sipped warily.

In the background, the sounds of an action shooter filled the silence, filtering from her bedroom to the rest of her small apartment. "Kate, I shot and killed someone. I just want to be alone after that. Do you know what it feels like to kill someone? To watch as their head explodes into something unrecognizable? I was responsible for ending that man's life. He was a horrible person, sure, but look," she slid the paper over to Kate, "he had a young face. He has the face of someone that could have gone somewhere if he hadn't been a serial killer."

Kate folded the paper over so she wouldn't have to see the article. "Some people deserve to die, Anne. It's why we have the death penalty. If you hadn't offed him, then the state would have. Heck, if you hadn't offed him, he would still be out there killing other poor women and you would be the one that's dead. And another thing," she slammed her hands down on the table," you look at someone, make a quick judgment, and then never give them the proper chance. I’ve never said anything before, but this time it’s just ridiculous. You see an overweight person and they are immediately obese and out of shape to you or you see a man in a red plaid shirt and they're a red neck. Yet what gets me, you see the baby face of a killer and pity him."

With a sigh, Anne looked away. The judgments she made were usually right anyways. It was a part of her job to analyze potential new clients from short meetings with them. Examining the nature of people came naturally to her. When she looked at Kate, she saw a nurturing maternal figure like she longed to be. When she looked at Huey, she saw a world of possibilities wrapped inside the small package of a lazy boy. When she looked at herself, she didn't see much; a business woman who couldn't be a mother and a woman who was normally strong, but had been reduced to an unstable mess after one night. Perhaps it was time she did something to finally pull out of her funk. "Isn't Stanley a rifle association member?" She asked.

Kate considered Anne, confused by the question that had nothing to do with their previous topic of conversation, if you could call one person lecturing another conversation. "Yes, he's been for awhile now."

"Do you think," she paused, considering her words, "that he could take me to the shooting range?"

"Oh heavens," a hand flew to Kate's mouth, "why on earth would you want to go there?"

A half smile crossed Anne's face. She turned to face Kate. Her hair was disheveled and her pajamas were severely wrinkled, the beginnings of dark circles forming under her eyes. "I would like to learn how to use a gun should there ever come another time. I've been thinking and I'd really like to be more capable of defending myself."

Kate nodded, "That actually sounds like a great idea. I might come as well. I think we could all use a lesson in self-defense."

The two sisters embraced and finished the jug of tea together, chatting about whatever came to mind all the while, Anne ignored the internalized, thunderous sound of cascading footsteps.

~

Anne returned home from another day at the shooting range bruised and sun burnt. Despite all that, she felt better than she had in ages. The cops had talked to her about what happened once more, but it appeared that there would be no trial or anything of the sort. Everyone was just glad his reign had ended and Anne was glad that the whole thing was finally out of her hair, which she had cut short now, reading that attackers would often grab long hair to keep their victim at bay.

She threw down her purse and stretched. She loved going to the shooting range and firing at the little targets they had set up. She was still not used to the recoil, but she loved the sound as each bullet escaped from the barrel. Something about it sent a thrill up her spine each time she heard it.

            Such a thrill that, a few days prior, she found herself back at the pawn shop.

            The red neck owner had perked up when she entered. “Back to look at the revolvers?”  He asked. Anne nodded, looking around at the selection. The owner slid out from behind the counter, giving her the grand tour.

We get all kinds of guns from simple hunting rifles to this here colt python," he motioned to an older looking revolver inside the glass counter. "We're lucky to have gotten this one in. I know lots of folk who refer to the Python as the finest gun ever produced."

Anything else the owner may have said was lost on Anne. She was focused on the Python. It wasn't anything fancy and was worn, but something about it called out to her. "I'll take this one." She motioned to the case.

"Good choice. Not many can resist the charm of the Python. I believe this one is from the late 1950s or so. Anyways, as is policy, you'll have to fill out a 4473 and I'll need to see your license. You haven't been in any criminal activity lately, have ye?" He glared at her menacingly. Anne's heart skipped a beat thinking of that night. He then let out a hearty laugh, slapping his knee. "Hehe you shoulda done seen your face. Of course a pretty lady like you hasn't been involved in anything. Is this for yourself or a present for your husband?"

"Uh, yeah. Husband." Anne looked away, not wanting to explain herself. When it was finally in her hands, she looked upon it almost reverently. She picked it up, enjoying the feel of the cool metal beneath her fingers. She had spent a lot of her free time since researching the revolver.

She busied herself about kitchen, preparing dinner.

There were mostly rednecks at the range, but one man had piqued her interests. He had a handsome face, clean shaven, and was extremely smart. He worked there, she assumed, as an instructor because he had been the one while Stanley was teaching Kate how to properly hold a gun to walk her through the steps of firing. The more she went, the more the two talked. He loved bragging about his hunting achievements and the racks of bucks he shot. Anne could really care less about any of this, but she had wanted to try her hand at hunting the more she heard people talking about it at the range. This man, whatever his name was, she couldn't be bothered to remember, would be the perfect person to take her. Kate also seemed happy that she was finally taking interest in someone.

She saw there was a message on her answering machine. She played it as she prepared a pot of water for spaghetti. "Anne, it's been three weeks now. I know you have vacation time and went through a traumatic event, so I can't really say anything, but it's starting to get ridiculous. Please call when you get this. We really need you now." The message ended and the mechanic voice of the machine read off the time and date.

Anne thought about the message as she stirred a pot of sauce and shrugged. She never took time off, so her vacation days been building for quite some time now. She was lucky to work at an office that let time carry over. She still had about two weeks left and planned on taking them. While everything cooked, she pulled out the Python from its home in her dresser drawer when it wasn’t nestled in her purse. It was tucked underneath a stack of under garments since she knew no one would look under there. She fiddled with it, spinning the barrel. She held it up like she'd been shown at the range, pointing it at the TV, her bed, and a picture of Kate. It felt good to hold a gun. It felt even better to shoot. With a smile, she placed the gun back in the drawer, humming as she stirred in the noodles. The pitter-patter marched along happily with her whistling.

~

Crouched in the bushes, Anne watched as a turkey scuttled along, pausing periodically to peck at the ground. It turned an eye towards the bush as if considering what lay beyond, but then continued its pecking, stepping cautiously forward. "The key here is to wait until he walks closer. You might be able to shoot that tom now, but you really need him to get closer so you can save the tail." John (Anne had finally learned his name) had been happy to take her hunting. He kept placing a hand on her back. She didn’t care for the gesture, but ignored it. The turkey stepped again, edging into her sights.

John had let her use his .22 caliber rifle and had walked her through the whole hunting process over lunch. He was really helpful even if his thick southern accent was hard to understand. She waited, watching the turkey move closer. "Now?" she asked.

"Now," John nodded. Anne prepared herself for the kick as she shot. She hit the turkey and he slumped over, blood pooling on the ground. "That was perfect!" John congratulated. Anne walked over, observing her handiwork. The turkey had a gaping hole in his chest and was still. The tail was gorgeous.

"It was," Anne said, looking at the gun and smiling. "What an exhillerating feeling."

"Now you've got it. You're the first woman I've taken hunting that didn't end up revolted. You've got a talent for shooting."

"I was taught by the best," Anne flirted. John scratched at the back of his neck, embarrassed.

This was the beginning of many other hunting trips with the two. Anne wasn't exactly keen on John, but she wanted to hunt again. Something about the way that the body would hit the ground or the echoing sound of gun fire, it resonated within her until she could hear no other sound including her always internal tempo. The pitterpatter seemed to be appeased because for now it was leaving her alone, free of urges.

At the end of a particularly long hunting session, John dropped her off at her apartment. "Hey Anne," he stopped her before she could get out of his pick-up, "I'm going deer hunting tomorrow. I know it's not our usual turkey, but would you like to come?"

"Would I like to come?" Anne pretended to consider for a second. "Of course! I'd love to come."

John shook his head, smiling. "You're something else." With that, Anne climbed out of the car and watched as he sped off.

~

John arrived early the next morning. Anne donned the cameo she had bought for their hunting trips and met him outside the complex. She slid into the passenger seat and they made idle chatter. He told her about the gun they'd be using and the area they'd be in. They'd be on the ground hunting since a friend of his was borrowing his tree top gear. Anne drank in his words, excited. John finally pulled over and slid out of his truck. He grabbed his back pack and slipped it on. He handed Anne one of his guns and he took the other. The two then hiked into the woods a fair ways keeping up an easy chatter as they went.

"You know a good deal about guns, right?" She asked, slightly out of breath. She may have had a slim figure, but she wasn't fit. Most of her days were spent sitting behind a desk and she preferred to drive over walking to places when she could.

"Yeah. I wouldn't say I'm an expert, but I know my stuff. Why?" John was handling the hike considerably better, though he was used to the trails.

"Well, I have this old gun," she huffed, "a python colt I believe. Anyways, I just wanted to know if you knew anything about it."

John paused, whistling, "That's a really nice gun you have there. Not sure what it'd be worth for shooting, but it's a nice display peice. It's worth a pretty penny nowadays depending on year and condition." Anne nodded. "Where did you get the gun?" He asked, continuing on once again.

"Oh, just had it in the family," she lied.

"Mm," he grunted, nodding. "Oh, we're at the best spot!" John motioned to a brush covered area of the forest. It stood on the crest of a gentle slope and offered a great view of the dip below which was perfectly covered in grass. "This is my secret spot right here and the place where I shot the buck that hangs above my mantle back home. I don't think any other hunters know about this spot because it's so far off the beaten path, but it's the best place for deer. I made sure there’d be some good grass too by throwing a few handfuls of seed. It’s really paid off."

The air held the scent of early morning dew, still slightly chilled from the night, and sun filtered through the trees. It was truly beautiful. John set about doing different things to attract the deer. They waited, crouched in the brush. As time passed, Anne’s anticipation turned into a dull boredom. John whispered to her, something unimportant and dismal, but she was focused on their surroundings, waiting for their prey. The sun was high in the sky before anything showed up. A small doe paused near the edge of the grass. It toed around the clearing, dipping its head from time to time to sample the green.

"We don't want the doe, we want a buck. I bet he'll be along later, though," he whispered, barely audible so the doe below wouldn't startle. Anne didn't respond, excitement catching her breath. The creature below was beautiful in a way that a turkey or half the people she met weren't. She could feel an aura of gentleness from this doe.

At this, she heard it again, the pitter-patter. It was an excited tempo. She felt an urge overcome her. She tried to suppress it, but the sound refused to be silenced, rising above any other noise until it was pounding in her ears. "There's the buck," John whispered excitedly. "We need to scoot back some before he comes too close. We don't want any chance of him seeing us." John moved back slowly, silently. Anne followed suit, moving further back than John. He didn't notice, attention on the rack of the buck approaching the clearing. "We're shooting soon. Get your target in sight."

Anne raised her gun. "Got it."

"Alright, wait until he comes into the clearing." John held up his gun, preparing for the right moment. Anne waited and when the opportunity finally came, she pulled the trigger. The shot rang through the trees, reverberating through the area. The doe and buck immediately bolted from the clearing.

Anne stood, looking at what had been John moments before. His head was blown away. He was still and the trees were coated in his blood and brain matter. The blood was even on the grass below. The tempo in her head quieted to a happy hum. Blood was still spilling to the ground below. She stood, turning and leaving the clearing.

            She had been too afraid at the time to realize that shooting the murderer had awakened something inside her. She had been thrilled and that is why she'd been so scared. Only a monster would take pleasure in killing another person. She had reasoned through it since then. Some people just deserved to die. Why else would there be a death penalty. The government did it every day, so why couldn't she?

She called a cab saying she had had a fight with her boyfriend and needed to leave. The cab driver could really care less.  Once inside her apartment, she moved to her underwear drawer. She pulled out the now loaded Python. John was wrong; the gun was worth shooting. She'd prove it to him.

~

Anne avoided her job and the news over the next few days. She didn't think John seemed like a person to be missed. He had no family, though he was a large part of the range. Kate had tried to call a couple of times as well as Mr. Higgins, but she had put her cell on silent. She heard it vibrating, useless noise in her grand orchestra. Nothing else mattered to her except composing the perfect melody for the internal rhythm inside. She was tired of suppressing it when she knew that it was the undertone for a beautiful piece.

She waited until she grew tired of sitting inside, then grabbed her purse and walked out the door. She made her way towards her favorite coffee shop. Along the way she saw a hobo holding a sign saying that God would bless whoever gave him money. It was probably for alcohol anyways. Anne noticed his brand new Nikes. He probably wasn't even really homeless. He sure looked and smelled the part, though.

"Excuse me ma'am," he called. Anne turned, eyebrow raised. "Could you please spare some change for a hungry soul?" He held up a cup and jingled it. It was already full of various coins and dollar bills.

"It looks like you've got enough there to buy something off the dollar menu," she scoffed, stomping away.

The hobo called out to her again, "Ma'am, this isn't about me. I have a family to feed and I want to make enough to get some nice clothes so I can make a living for myself again. You don't look like you have much to worry about, but please think on my situation and have some pity."

She laughed, "Well, you seem to have me figured out, so I'm sure you know that I won't spare a dime."

"Please ma'am," he pleaded, eying her designer purse. So he just wanted some pity money out of the decently well off. "Just give me some money now."

It wasn't a demand, but her eyes widened. The words rang within her and the tempo within her grew thunderous, hurting her ears. There was something familiar about them, something she didn’t like.

She pulled out the Python and faced the hobo. He held up his hands, but she had already cocked the gun. She squeezed the trigger sending the bullet through his head. As before, blood and brain rained onto the ground. Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter. It was a decently clean shot, considering her proximity. The people around her grew silent. She looked down at her handy work and felt exhilerated. She felt better than she had ever been since that night at Wal-mart. Turkey and targets taped to poles and mounds of dirt could only go so far. The deer had been too beautiful and innocent. They didn’t deserve to be hunted. No, she had wanted that same feeling of killing someone who deserved to die.

"Someone call the police!" One woman shouted. A few others were already dialing 911. It was applause from the audience. She felt no regret; the tempo inside her was playing the final chords of a most beautiful song. She played with the revolver as people ran around her screaming.

Perhaps the pitter-patter she'd been hearing never was the sound of little feet. Maybe the pitter-patter she'd been hearing all along was the sound of blood.