This post was written for a school activity. We were asked to create a story out of a diagram which showed small animal tracks and large animal tracks meeting each other and the small tracks vanishing after some point.
White. The landscape was nothing but white. An ocean of snow around me and I was plowing through the mass of it for no legitimate reason at all.
Continue reading “Red-stained White”
The situation here in… I must not inform you yet of the name of the place where I dwell. All things will fall into place later on. So, where was I again? Oh yeah.
The situation here in bleep has been chaotic ever since someone dubbed as, er, I’ll brief you with that later on too, purloined our freedom. Our freedom of speech. Well, not actually.
Uttering or even writing any word or phrase here costs a penalty. A billion bucks and instant death. I mean that. It’s no satire. So technically still, our freedom of speech has been ripped by that scoundrel.
To have the right to speak, you must purchase a letter or a word. How much does a letter value? Very cheap. Just 29,999,999 dollars. Infuriatingly, that darn dictator is free from the bounds of that darn policy just because he’s the brainchild.
I am bound for death this instant by violating that dictator’s stupid law. But for your sake, I’m willing to bet my life. Don’ – I hear something.
They found me! I need to go. I sincerely apologize for the anonymity. Looks like later will turn into tomorr…
[END OF TRANSMISSION]
Any constructive criticism for the story? Please tell me. I need your help. Comment down below please. Please? Pretty please with cherry and sprinkles on top?
This is a guest post by celestranburk, a 17 year old female aspiring to be an author. She loves tragedies and horror. Here is a short vignette she wrote in about an hour.
If you want to guest post, head to Promote Yourself, Be My Guest.
A white utopia swallowed me whole, leaving me suspended in colorless equilibrium.
My ears buzzed from the utter lack of sound that assaulted them. I could not tell if my eyes were opened or closed for the empty whiteness remained regardless of the position of my eyelids. In truth, I was likely not seeing at all, but perhaps merely believing that I could.
A voice broke the silence. It was low, monotone, and oddly familiar. I felt the vibrations resounding in my chest as it spoke, its words rattling around in my rib cage.
It was then that I became acutely aware that I had no heartbeat to match its frequency.
“Welcome to the Afterlife.” The voice said.
“In 24 hours, your physical body will have finished deconstructing. Your memories will then be inserted into your Artificial Soul.”
A loud beep echoed through the space and the voice dissipated into it. Afterlife? Am I dead? I have no recollection of dying. I have no recollection of any part of my life.
My mind is as blank as the world around me. Seconds tick by. A single image materializes in my mind’s eye, blurred at first but slowly becoming clearer.
I see a blue surface, dotted with inconsistent white shapes. A bright orb sits on the left of it, blinding me.
Something rushes past me, but I don’t see it. A pair of legs, presumably my own, appear before my eyes, reaching up towards the blue surface. Something dark shoots across my vision, then consumes it. Everything disappears in that instant, sending me back to this endless white abyss.
My thoughts clear. I fell; no, I was pushed. Off a cliff, I think. Landed head first, probably.
I guess I must have died after all. I guess those were my last moments. And now here I am.
This is where my existence has been transferred to. This is all that is left of me as my body deconstructs; just a disembodied mind floating in white equilibrium.
¤AsilandtheKeyboard¤
I see a loophole in this prompt. What is it, you ask?
Couldn’t I use foresight to foretell what would kill me? Logically, the reason my life span would be deducted by one day is because of some sort of deteriorating disease. Then, I would have to dive deeper into the future and inform myself how to prevent it.
I may now use foresight freely. Problem solved!
I enslaved my brain and I have become a cruel and brutal master.
I angrily forced and battered it to generate ideas.
It was totally blank for anything.
But his caring friend, Pity, persuaded me.
I gave it a chance.
It’s last chance.
It told me in its last dying breath to write its experience with me.
Guilt swapped places with Anger.
What have I done?
No it’s not a poem. Apparently for me, having mental block can be beneficial. Why? The post above.
RedefiningRandom 