| Home | Community | Message Board |
|
You are not signed in. Sign In New Account | Forum Index Search Posts Trusted Vendors Highlights Galleries FAQ User List Chat Store Random Growery » |
This site includes paid links. Please support our sponsors.
|
Threaded
Previous
Index
NextShop:  Golden Teacher Liquid Culture For Sale  All-In-One Bags That Don't Suck  Grow Bags  Feminized Cannabis Seeds  Unfolding Nature: Being in the Implicate Order |
| |||||||
 Toddo Stranger   Registered: 07/10/04 Posts: 4,152 Last seen: 9 years, 1 month |
| ||||||
|
Please post your short story here and critique another's. As with my first story, you can get as lengthy or as short as you want, just make it readable by using paragraphs and spaces (look at my first story for an example.)
I'm going to do my best to read and comment on every piece posted in here. Look forward to some interesting stories! 
| |||||||
|
Toddo Stranger Registered: 07/10/04 Posts: 4,152 Last seen: 9 years, 1 month |
| ||||||
Auto-SummaryIn a post-apocalyptic world where a global earthquake and blackout have left cities in chaos, Mark and his wife Katie find their home overrun by looters after their baby dies during a mob attack. Struggling to cope with the horror, Mark eventually boards up their windows and barricades the doors. When Katie starts sleepwalking and repeatedly asks about the baby, Mark grows increasingly frustrated and eventually pushes her into a mysterious white fog outside their home. As he follows her, Mark hears disturbing sounds coming from the bedrooms, leading him to believe he is not alone in their descent into madness. “Mark, check the baby. She’s crying again,” Katie said. Mark ran his hands through his hair, moaning pleas for his wife to stop mentioning the baby. The baby was in their bedroom; the poor thing had been dead for almost two days now. Mark and his wife had slept in the living room couches ever since she passed. The power had been off for the last week, but it wasn’t until three days ago that Mark was forced to board up the windows in the house and barricade the doors. No one was completely sure of what happened during the week the world slipped into complete madness. The one thing Mark was sure off is that just before the power went out, there was an earthquake and the sound of distant thunder (although there was no clouds visible in the sky.) After the shaking was over, California’s sustained a massive blackout. Mark turned on his battery powered radio and was able to hear the last few minutes of news before the radio towers went out. What they reported was the earthquake wasn’t just centered around Southern California, but it was worldwide, with massive blackouts spanning the entire globe. Later that night in Marks city of Long Beach, there was a string car and aircraft accidents followed by multiple fires. That was Sunday night. When Mark woke up the next morning, the power was still off. The air was thick with ash and glowed red from the fires. Mark left his wife and 6month old Carolina at home while he tried to find out what was going. His next door neighbors wouldn’t answer their doors and cell phones and ISP’s were down. All the roads were in gridlock, and police ignored him when he tried asking for information. They yelled “go back to your homes, everything will be ok.” That night a serious lootings began. Mobs started breaking into homes, raping, stealing, and killing. That’s when Mark began boarding up the windows. While he was nailing in the panels of wood, a helicopter came over their city and was saying something over the loud speaker. Mark only caught fragments: “stay in your homes” and “shot on sight”. The baby died Wednesday night. It happened while a mob was attacking Mark’s house. Hardly able to hold the front door shut while the mob pounded on it, Mark left his wife on the couch with the baby. Like this entire Event, Mark wasn’t sure how she died. While pinned against the beating door, he heard the babies wails suddenly chock off into silence. A moment later, his wife started screaming the babies name over and over. Now it was Friday. A thick fog rolled in over the city, and the sounds coming from outside were hushed, except for the occasional shriek or distant cracks of gunfire. Mark went up to the window in the living room for the millionth time and looked through the crack of between the wood panels: solid white fog. “Check the baby,” Katie said laying down on the couch, not opening her eyes. “Would you stop that?” Mark said, pulling away from the window and pacing the small living room. She said it again. He stopped and turned towards her. “Katie, get up" “Why?” She said, her eyes still shut. “because you keep saying it.” “Saying what, honey?” she said, finally opening those eyes. Those stupid eyes would never understand what kind of hell she was putting him through. Or maybe they understood perfectly well and relished it. “Hey, what day is it, Mark?” “Friday. It’s Friday. Now get up, you been sleeping for the last 24 hours.” She mumbled something and nestled deeper in under the bath towels covering her. Mark was about to say something, but he held and instead turned around and walked around the corner towards the Kitchen. The sink was backed up with brown water and the fridge was the source of some putrid smell. He finished off a half eaten can of fruit and had a sip of water. As he drank the syrup in the can, Mark glanced down the dark hallway that led to the bedrooms. The bedrooms were probably free from that smell emanating from the fridge, but neither Katie nor Mark ever came close to that side of the house, the side were their daughter was sleeping forever. Besides, there might even be a new smell coming from those bedrooms…it had, after all, been more than a couple days since… Mark gagged into the trashcan, but managed to hold the peaches down. He shuffled back into the living room. Katie was stretched out on the couch, sleeping soundly. Only a week ago, they were both laying together on that same couch, eating popcorn; laughing as they watched some old scary movie. Now when he looked at that thing he once called his wife, he felt nothing more the revulsion and hatred. He curled up on the cold hardwood floor and did his best to fall asleep, hoping with all his heart god would end this nightmare and make things right again. Mark woke up to the rhythmic sound of wood creaking under his right ear. He opened his eyes and saw his wife in the rocking chair, next to the TV, looking at a photo album. Mark got up to his feet, his arm rubbing the back of his stiff neck. The light coming through the cracks in the boarded up windows told Mark it was daytime. He looked out his usual peeping hole into the front yard. “This fog…” Mark said to himself, shaking his head. Katie’s giggle sounded from behind him. “Oh Mark,” she said, laughing now. Frowning, Mark turned towards her. “What?” “I’m looking at that picture of you at that one guys wedding were you got drunk and beat up the comedian. You remember that?” Mark’s wrinkles softened on his face and he grinned. “I still remember the line that pushed me over the edge: he pointed at me and said he’d watched me danced. Said I looked like a bird with a broken wing,” Mark said. His wife laughed again and said, “and everyone started laughing but you. I looked over and saw you charging the stage. You tackled the guy and knocked over that picture of the bride and groom, and the book everyone signs.” While they both laughed, for just a moment, there was no fog or boarded up windows or death; there were only watery eyes and giggling. She turned the page. “Oh…” she said with a sigh. Still grinning, Mark asked her what the next picture was. “It’s baby Carolina’s baptism.” The smile drained out of Marks face. He sat on the couch and laid his head down, covering his ears so he didn’t have to hear his wife sobbing the babies name, over and over. It could have been a minute or an hour later, Mark couldn’t tell, but he got up from the couch without a word, walked over and snatched the photo album out of his wife’s arms. Her face continued staring down at her empty hands. Mark through the photo album against the wall as hard as he could. “Katie, It’s time. We can’t do it anymore. We’ve got to get out of this house before we both loose our minds.” Katie looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red. She nodded her head up and down. Mark smiled and kissed her cheek, promising everything would be ok. She nodded again. The front door was in the far left of the living room. Mark began moving the junk they used to block the front door. “We can go away together, Katie. Start all over, like none of this ever happened,” Mark said, wincing as he yanked out the first pieces of nailed in plywood covering the door. It came off with a solid pop. “A quiet place. Some place where we can tell our kids about this, and how hard we pushed ourselves to survive.” Another piece of plywood popped off the door. “Find a place this terrible things hasn’t happened and start living again. What do you think, babe?” Mark pulled the final piece of plywood off the door and turned around towards his wife. Her face was buried in her hands, her body convulsing with sobs. Don’t let her ruin this moment, Mark thought, don’t let her ruin it like she ruins everything else. He turned around and faced the door. His hand went out and turned the knob. As he front door creaked open, Mark’s eye grew large. He gasped. Outside the door was a solid white wall of fog. What startled him most was how the fog held the shape of the door and didn’t pour into the house. It was like they just sliced a piece out of a puffy white cloud. Mark reached into the haze with his hand and brought it back. It felt cold and misty, but other than that, normal. Mark’s eyes never left the wall of white when he called to his wife. “Katie. It’s time.” He held out his hand behind him, waiting for hers to meet his. “So you’re just going to leave her?” She said behind him. Mark dropped his hands by his side, but didn’t turn around to face her. “I’m talking to you Mark. You look at me! You always wanted to leave her home. Sometimes…” she hesitated and took a gulp of air, “well, sometimes I just think you just hate her. Like you think she gets in the way, takes the attention off of you. You know that, Mark?” Marked turned around slowly, his face bright red and his eyes watery. He walked towards her, mumbling to himself, his head moving back and forth. Katie was standing in front of the rocking chair staring at the ground. He reached out and lifted her chin. Surprising himself, he moved in and hugged her. She wasn’t crying anymore, but he was. “I love you Katie. Even if this is the end of all things, I still love you.” His gripped tightened around her, “But you died along with our daughter. You’re already dead. You’re all ready dead,” he said, closing his eyes as tight as he could. Katie’s face was still blank. In one instant, Mark kissed her neck hard, savoring the taste and smell on last time and then he then spun her around so she was facing the door. Mark whispered in her ear. “I love you Katie.” He ran forward towards he door, pushing her ahead, holding her up so she wouldn’t trip. “Wait…” Katie moaned. “Wait…please.” But all it took was a few strides to reach the open front door. When he reached it, Mark shoved his wife into the fog as hard as he could, her last plea lost in the sound of her tumbling down the 4 steps that lead to the front door. He could hear her through the fog, getting up from the ground, whining about her arm, her feet shuffling off into the grass. A moment later, he heard her stumble into the rose bushes and scream out in pain. “Oh god…what was that?” she called out, crying now. “Mark, I can’t see anything. I think I’m bleeding,” she said, her voice only a few feet away from the door. Mark watched the wall of fog, his lips not moving. “Mark, I’m just a little turned. If you make some noise I can find you.” The sound of her voice was a little farther than before, just on the front lawn of the house. Mark only stared and listened to her heavy breathing. He heard a sudden giggle. “Oh Mark, come on. I give up, I can’t find you. Now go ahead and say something so I can get back. I can’t see at all out here.” Another laugh, this time it was even farther, maybe in the street. Mark drew air in his lungs and was just about to call out when his wife started screaming. “Mark, oh god, say something, I’m lost. I’m loooost,” she wailed out, choking on her own cries. He could hear her footsteps running on the street. “I-don’t-want-to-die-out-hear-al “Mark? Mark, is that you?” Her voice was small and tiny, hardly audible. There was 10 seconds of silence before it began. All in one moment, she screamed that scream we’ve all got deep inside of us, that scream we save for the end. She let it out and drew it out as long as she could, making Mark jump back from the door in complete shock humans could utter such noises. The sound scream jumped up and down in pitch as she started running, and then it became more and more distant. She was running down the street. A moment later, her cries faded off into complete silence: Katie was gone. Mark’s hand was over his mouth as he stared out the door. He backed up until his heels hit the couch and he fell sitting down, staring at the fog filled doorway. He woke up on the couch unsure of what day it was. He knew it had to have been a few days since his wife left him. It wasn’t what he expected. Mark didn’t realize how much his wife distracted him from the complete horror of the situation, even if she drove him a little nuts. He mumbled to himself on the couch. Mark did that a lot now. He thought out loud, his quick mutterings were short, broken raves. His ears thanked him for giving them another human voice to hear. Even his thoughts were becoming deranged and slow. But it wasn’t his mad thoughts or ravings that he found most disturbing. It wasn’t even this sudden illness that made him feel like he had razor blades in his bowls. What Mark found most disturbing was the noise that he kept hearing from the hallway around the corner. The sounds coming from the bedrooms. Mark was hungry, but he didn’t go in the kitchen anymore. You could see the hallway from the kitchen, the hallway was where the sounds were coming from. Mark would stand still and silent for hours at a time, sitting on the couch with blankets wrapped around him, listening for unnamable things. It was a simple thump through the walls that go him listening for hours at a time. At first, he blamed that thump that haunted his every thought on the illness-probably his ears popping. But then, he heard something so horrible, that after the moment he heard it, sleep would never come again, except for only quick moments. It was yesterday, he woke up from the nap with a start. He thought he heard someone coughing. And as he was sitting up on the couch, he did hear someone cough. It was coming from around the corner, it was coming from the bedroom. That was when he stopped going into the kitchen. He only slept for a few minutes at a time. He slept sitting on his couch, listening. Always listening. Mark lasted 3 days without his wife. On that third day, Mark heard a door creak open. Each bedroom door had a specific creak, and the creak he heard was his door. He heard slow footsteps falling at strange intervals. Two hitting close together, and then a single step and then another single step before three quick ones. Mark jumped up from the couch and ran for the door. Nearly jumping out into the fog, his hands caught the doorframe and he swung back in the house, landing on his side, half his body in the fog, the other half inside the house. He stared at the entrance to the living room, trying to listen for the footsteps. He couldn’t hear them anymore. Somehow that made it worse. “I’m sorry. I swear, I wasn’t trying to leave you,” Mark called out, scaring himself with his own voice. That’s when he saw something race from the hallway into the kitchen, coming into sight for only a moment. It was on all fours, and no baby living could’ve had that long of limbs. Mark wailed out and jumped to his feet, not daring to look back into his house. He turned around and ran into the mist, running as quickly as his legs could take him, deeper and deeper into the white fog.
| |||||||
 Penguarky Tunguin f n o r d   Registered: 08/08/04 Posts: 17,195 |
| ||||||
Auto-SummaryThis engaging and humorous post recounts a frustrating and awkward date with a veterinarian assistant. The author details the narrator's growing boredom and irritation as the woman rambles on about her job, personal life, and a seemingly unrelated story involving a "crazy woman, her cat, and mustard." The author's growing frustration culminates in a playful but firm rejection of sexual advances, resulting in an abrupt and awkward departure. The post highlights themes of communication, expectations, and the challenges of navigating early-stage relationships. I just found this is my "writings" folder. I believe I've posted some of it before, but here we go again. I'm really proud about it. I turned it in for one of my writing classes.  Might be hard to read cuz I'm too lazy to format the italics parts. ________________________________ There she is, lying on the bed, the fruits of two weeks of work, two weeks of bullshit, really. Two weeks of listening to her ramble on about her job as a veterinarian assistant in some startup mom-and-pop humanitarian effort. A last ditch effort for mom and pop to hang onto some small shred of human decency. Though you can already see that shred has withered away to a single, lonesome strand that left them years ago, though they refuse to let go of it, not noticing they’re gripping nothing at all. While on the third date and still not having seen her naked, you try to keep your eyes at face level, but the inane drivel that escapes her lips causes piercing flashes of white-hot hate that forces you to lower your sights downward to stare at her tits, which bob gently up and down like a lone buoy lost at sea, no real purpose, especially clothed. She continues her latest story of veterinarian delights, something about a crazy woman, her cat and mustard. She mentions something about the woman possibly having Blah Blah Blah syndrome but you can’t recall what it was called exactly, because it has nothing to do with breasts. You can feel the boredom that emanates from underneath both her bubbly “personalities” and bleached-blonde highlights. She does a pretty good job of hiding the boredom, but you’ve seen it before and it’s easy to spot. Nothing special with this one. You know that another story is probably next and you’ve decided that the only way you’re gonna sit through this one is while you’re undressing her. I only cuddle if my balls are empty. Random thoughts, but who can blame you? Three dates? Possibly more. Ouch, my wallet. I’m not sure how much longer I can take this, you think to yourself, but you’re probably saying it to your dick as well. The same one that is tired of being unfairly smashed up against the zipper of your jeans, time and time again, for the last two weeks; erection growing into uncomfortable angles that you truly believe is unfair to all involved, but that’s what dry humping is all about, right? If you’re not going to do anything about it, then your dick will. Is that yourself talking or is that your dick talking? Is there a difference? Not at this point, fuck no there’s not. I wonder if guys with small dicks have a problem with dry humping, you’re still wondering to yourself, I mean, they don’t have to worry about it, do they? “You haven’t said one word tonight, what’s wrong?” She asks with as much inquisitive nature as she can muster, breaking your thoughts of bulbous, bouncing bags of fat and black, wet stained sheets outlining where her back and ass lay, seconds ago. Ha-ha, yeah right. “What?” you ask. “You’ve been so quiet, something’s wrong, I can see it in your face.” “Nothing, just thinking about things, as usual.” “Like what? Talk, please, I feel like I’m the only one doing the talking.” You are. “Nothing I want to share right now, alright?” It really doesn’t end in a question. Plus, it’s not like you’d understand what I have to say anyway. “Is it me?” she asks, eyes lowered. “Truthfully? Yes, some of it is, but now is not the time to talk about it. Let’s just have a nice quiet dinner and we’ll talk about it later.” Ha-ha, quiet… “Okay,” she says, giving up her inquisitive, concerned look. She gives up too easily, but not what I want her to give up easily, what the fuck!? She’s still there (it’s now the fifth date), on your bed, naked, and you didn’t get the chance to disrobe her yourself, which irritates you slightly, but then again, finally, she’s naked. Was it worth it? My wallet, I can’t even feel it in my back pocket anymore, is it still there? You give your right pants pocket a quick tap and… yep, it’s still there. “Why am I the only one that’s naked here?” she wonders out loud, still saying dumb shit, but she’s naked now so that thought escapes you. “Well,” you respond with a mischievous grin, “uh, good question.” You proceed to take your shirt off, but not before tapping your right pants pocket again, to make sure your wallet still resides there, as if it might have leaped out a few seconds ago, when you were staring at her expertly bronzed skin; a fake tan, but that’s the least of your concerns right now. “I want you to take of my pants though.” “Excuse me?” “You heard me, get your ass over here and undo my belt and pull down my jeans and then attend to my boxers and we’ll go from there.” “Wow, you really know how to talk to the ladies.” “Yeah I do, I got your ass naked, didn’t I?” She sits up and moves closer towards you. You see a slight glint of light reflect off the smooth curves of her heart shaped ass and you feel the pressure on your zipper increase. She undoes your pants per your instructions and when pulling down your boxers, the button snags on the top of your penis, causing her to yank harder until the boxers fall to the floor and your erect penis pops out, coming to attention (no pun), heels of boots clicking, if your dick had boots, and almost pokes her in the eye. She proceeds to lower her head and place your cock in her mouth and you feel the great warmth that accompanies oral proceedings such as these. You’ve felt more warmth before though, probably because for the last two months, you’ve masturbated ferociously and angrily without any lubricant and there’s some sensitivity loss. It still feels great though and it’s about goddamn time. You know you’re not gonna come from this, so you enjoy it for a bit. You even place your hands on the top of her head, pulling her hair back from her face so you can get some visual happiness as well. She stops and looks up at you and says, “I don’t like when guys touch my hair while I’m down here, if I’m doing something wrong, just tell me.” “Umm, ok,” you respond. You’re not really happy with her statement, but she’s got you by the balls, for now, and you’ll do what she prefers until you’re in a better position. As previously said, you know you’re not gonna get off, so you place your hands on her shoulders and motion to the bed and she lays back and spreads her legs. Sex is kinda like math; you add the bed, divide the legs and hope not to multiply. You smirk at recalling the joke, but you’re fairly confident she doesn’t see it and who cares if she did, how does she know that you’re not admiring her incredibly hot body, right? She’s staring into your eyes as you make your way to the prize. God, I hope it doesn’t smell like a fish market in the middle of the Sahara Desert. You never can be too sure with these things, especially these days. You make your way down with a slight hint of trepidation. You hope she doesn’t see your hesitation as you visualize a bunch of Arabs slapping fish against their palms, yelling at the top of their lungs trying to sell you one, even though you have no idea what they’re saying or even if it’s Arabic. But you quickly do a sniff test and everything seems alright, nothing offensive. Allah Akbar. You haven’t even touched her yet, and you see a small globule of female excitement, silently dripping out and down her vagina, grinning all the way to her anus. You start licking the inside of her thighs, lightly gripping them and noticing how soft and supple they are. She moans in excitement. Let’s roll. You begin licking all around the untidy pile of meat, noticing how she reacts to certain spots and you flick your tongue just barely over her clit and she moans loudly. For some reason however, you’re not feeling it, the whole situation, and you even notice your erection has sadly returned to hibernation. She notices you hesitating and grabs the back of your head and tries to press it against her pussy. You resist it and she screams “I want you inside me, right now.” “No thanks,” you reply, “I’m out of here, I got shit to do.” You quickly find your clothes and put them on, making sure, of course, that your wallet is still there. Wallet, keys, phone. You make sure all three are in your possession and you quietly walk out the door, all the while noticing she has not said a word and has not moved an inch. You leave the room with an expression on your face, but you’re not quiet sure what kind it is. -------------------- Every mistake, intentional or otherwise, in the above post, is the fault of the reader.
| |||||||
|
Toddo Stranger Registered: 07/10/04 Posts: 4,152 Last seen: 9 years, 1 month |
| ||||||
|
wow. alright.
This was very well written. Great story. Started off just a little slow...but it kept me reading. By about midway through, when they started talking with each other, I really got into it. Haha...I was dieing when the Main Character was dreading that smell, thinking about the arab fish market, the vendors yelling prices out.... Oh god...you nailed that spot on. That dialogue was also pretty good. Well done, I'm sure your teacher was proud!
| |||||||
| |||||||
Edit 
Reply 
| Shop: Golden Teacher Liquid Culture For Sale All-In-One Bags That Don't Suck Grow Bags Feminized Cannabis Seeds Unfolding Nature: Being in the Implicate Order |
|
| Similar Threads | Poster | Views | Replies | Last post | ||
 |
 |
critiques welcome |  puscle |
1,245 | 15 | 08/21/02 01:35 PM by wrestler_az |
|
|
The Voting Thread (  1 2 all ) |
 Senor_Doobie |
3,067 | 26 | 05/27/02 11:25 PM by Anno |
|
 |
Links to threads with links... |  Smack31 |
977 | 3 | 01/17/03 04:24 AM by SubGen1us |
|
 |
Post links to YOUR music here! ( 1 2 3 all ) |
Smack31 |
6,584 | 43 | 09/09/19 11:56 PM by TheoriesAbound |
|
|
Post Your Music Links Here..... ( 1 2 all ) |
 GabbaDj |
6,442 | 39 | 06/02/05 07:23 PM by gema |
|
|
Please help.. How do you post an avatar pic |  crazyman |
1,459 | 15 | 12/17/01 06:37 PM by deviation13 |
|
 |
Pic posting Q... |  stefan |
514 | 2 | 05/05/03 04:14 AM by stefan |
|
|
Post deleted by Administrator |  PsilosKube |
2,076 | 13 | 07/02/03 11:09 PM by Strumpling |
| Extra information | ||
| You cannot start new topics / You cannot reply to topics HTML is disabled / BBCode is enabled Moderator: Middleman, automan, DividedQuantum 541 topic views. 0 members, 2 guests and 8 web crawlers are browsing this forum. [ Show Images Only | Sort by Score | Print Topic ] | ||