giraffe

Sorry, Doug. Something just hit a sore nerve. We all have our vunerable spots. BTW I liked your Bunnies extention. Maybe it could turn into an Iraq war story or something. Life can be cruel. There's a story in that.

Don't worry about me - you've got enough. On second thought, drop everything else and worry about Me. Maybe you could kiss my ring and beg forgiveness. I'm only the Pope, you know. Are you Cathoholic?

Nylecoj

Glad you two made up! Now where is the story? : D

midnightpoet

I'm suffering from a bit of Statistics-Induced insomnia, so, I wrote about a relaxing place to relax my mind. 326, not counting the title.

"In the Silence"

Perfect, peaceful silence surrounds me, and I close my eyes and breathe in the still air.

The lake is still in the summertime heat. Now that the snow has all melted and the sun shines regularly, the water level has gone down and the small dock on the water's edge is no longer inundated, as it tends to be in the spring months.

I sit here on the edge of the dock, my bare feet brushing the surface of the water, soundlessly disturbing it's smooth stillness.

I bask in the silence. Birds don't come to this part of the lake to vanquish my silence with their songs. I can't hear the sounds of the far-off traffic. No breeze rustles the leaves on the trees.

My eyes closed behind my sunglasses, and I tilt my face up towards the sky and feel the heat caress my face and my bare shoulders, knowing I'll be as red as a lobster before too long, but unable to bring myself to care.

Here, in the silence, in the still, in the perfect heat of the sun, I'm on the brink of a glorious revelation, and I'm just waiting for it to hit me. I've been thinking long and hard, and I've almost come to a conclusion, and this silence is just what I need to make some important discovery. I'm not sure yet what the revelation will be, but it's there, and I know I'll jump with pure joy once it hits me.

A fleeting whisper shocks the stillness of my perfect, silent day. Ambiguous words reach my ears, chasing away that revelation so close I could practically taste. The voices sound zealous, but I am unable to make out anything they're saying.

My sunny blue sky turns onyx as anger overcomes me and blinds me.

When I can see again, the bloody bodies of the whisperers are at my feet, and I return to the silence of the dock.

belladonnis

Zoe Aionios

One fleeting moment. Thats all it took........ just one. Just one moment to create one life that would ultimately change so many.

Her name is Zoe Aionios a seemingly ambiguous young girl in that she, like so many of her age are more into playing Barbies and watching Hannah Montana than the problems of a world on the brink of extinction. She is a beautiful girl with long shiny hair the color of onyx gem stone and eyes as green as new spring grass. To her she lives the normal life of any six year old, for Zoe has never had any choice in the matter. She has no mother or father to hope she would blossom into someone with a bright future full of purpose. Her pupose in this life was made the day she was born and the hope she inspires is as meaningfull as her name.

The disease had already indundated most of the population. Its only purpose to vanquish the human race. It was only nine years ago that the first victims became infected. Mercy Hospital in New York addmitted three patients with flu like symptoms that mutated into severe bleeding from the pores of the skin that soon after led to the deterioration of the flesh. Almost as if the blood of the victims had turned to acid. A disease so zealous that the medical world and all nations soon dropped all medical research to focus on this one killer.

The lab operated night and day, the brightest and smartest from every corner of the world working together to find a cure. Every experiment a failure untill that one moment..... that one moment when life was created, not from the caress and joy of two lovers, but from a test tube and a scientifically engineered uterus. A child had been born that was immune to the disease, in a whisper it was said "In her could be found a cure."

Zoe Aionios or to those studied in Greek Life Eternal.

morshy

Only 308 words (how very remiss of me!) and no title (again!)

I keep to the shadows. I move slowly, but with purpose. The night sky is onyx black, the moon a silver disc whose caress has my heart singing with joy. I catch a fleeting glimpse of her, just ahead, before she turns a corner and is gone from sight. No matter, I know this city, I know how she breathes. I slip between two parked cars, pausing only to sniff the air, to catch the whisper of her scent. Silently, I cross the street and traverse the alley that runs parallel to road she is walking on.

I quicken my pace. The thought of her touch has inundated my senses, bringing me to the brink! I rein myself back, wanting to roar with the zealous lust of a concubine, but fearing she will hear, and render me impotent. All feelings vanquished, all thoughts cleared, I recommence my pursuit.

Still she eludes me, always remaining just out of reach. At one point, I lose sight of her completely, and panic, darting forward into traffic and hearing the blare of horns and screech of tyres. I see a swirl of skirts ahead, and race after it, no longer keeping to the shadows, no longer afraid of being seen. I sprint round the corner, only to be confronted with disappointment. It is not her, rather some painted jezebel, all lipstick, powder and paint. She sees me and smiles, her lips stretching grotesquely back and distorting her face. She reaches for me, and in a rage I lash out! Does she think my feelings so ambiguous? I dart past her, rushing headlong and blindly into…my sense of direction has deserted me. I am lost! My panic induces a further adrenaline discharge, and I tear round a corner and collide with something, something familiar. It is her!

“Jasper?” She asks in confusion.

“Meow”

Login

I was quite relieved by that wicked ending.

Login

belladonis, your story has an equally unexpected ending ... a frightening story, followed by hope a glimmer of hope..

Login

midnight poet, another shock ending! Your writing flows and you had me spellbound ...

giraffe

326 words or very close (with title). May be losing my mind, but it's fun.

ANGER IS A FLEETING SENSATION

That's why we named her that. When she was a baby, we could whisper 'Anger' and she responded with her beautiful onyx eyes. The nurses asked "Don't you mean Angel?" We said over and over that her name is Anger. Not Angel.

One day Anger asked me "Where did I come from, Daddy? Is there really a stork?"

"Yes, Anger. Just keep it inside. It will be our personal secret."

Anger did very well in her studies. Unlike most girls, she found joy in the ambiguities of science, history and mathmatics. She was smart, but aloof. We couldn't really blame her since she was inundated with offers to focus on Home Ec. or Nursing. Her zealousness in acadamia vanquished any dreams of being anything but a nuclear physicist.

Anger had a fascination for bombs. Cherry bombs and smoke bombs in her youngest years. I would caress her when I felt she was on the brink of causing any real damage. "Anger," I would say, "Isn't it time to practice your piano lesson?"

She was working on Hindemith's Third Sonata. At 10 years old that's a major feat. At 50, I can't even make it all the way through three movements. She really knows how to piss me off.

"Anger, Darling, you must remember the second movement goes bu-bu-tata-boom, bu-bu-tata-boom, bu-bu-tatatatatatatatata-boom!"

"Yes, Daddy. I'm working on that boom." After practicing she always went out to the garage.

"Anger, Honey, it's time for supper. Do I have to come out and get you again? Come in now and I won't have to use this belt on you."

"TATA BOOM" She screamed.

The last thing I saw was my beautiful car, my beloved Anger and all of my lawn tools engulfed in flames.

giraffe

It's good to see you around, Login.

Nylecoj

Midnight, glad you could join us! Very peaceful, with a jolting awakening.

Belladonnis, I agree with Login, but how terrible for that hope to not have a family.

Morshy, wonderful! I had no idea it was a cat till the end!

Giraffe that was a bang!

Doug

giraffe: No, definately not a Cathoholic. Maybe I'll write a story one day about that. Glad to see you are still with us! I also apologize for any offense against you. It was unintentional.

Doug

giraffe: Too bad the word count wasn't higher....you really could have made a spectacular scenario with that one. Liked the use of "Anger" for the name; it made the story more than just a little girl growing up to be a bomb maker. Nice!

belladonnis: Loved it! Hope you continue to join our little "coven".

Morshy: Titles please?

Midnight: Glad you could come out of your corner and maybe writing a ThinkWrite story gave you a little break from the rigors of studying and "numbers".

ladyhwin

Absolutely awesome stories!! Wow!!! Keep it up!! : D

Doug

Working graveyard shift presents its own series of rewards and challenges. One simple reward is that I don't fight "rush hour" traffic, I'm going the other way. The biggest "challenge" is sleep...326 words including title...

Drama

Never quit finding that inner peace always struggling or maybe juggling life’s daily drama trying to quiet my mind at least to a whisper.
Whispers, a hush inundated with loud thoughts scrambling for attention never letting my mind stay free and focused.
Sure there are “meds for that” they would say, but how do I get the same calmness, focus, and solitude without a “med” to help?

An apple a day keeps the doctor away so they say, but I say hogwash. The doctors prescribe all the medicines that create the drama that we should be able to qualm ourselves.
Vanquished with a pure thought or maybe a bit of soft background noise, a pillow covering the face as the sun beats down through the window while you attempt to sleep.

Impossible…as sleep is fleeting…sleep is an enigma…sleep is a choice not chosen.

He bangs away at the keyboard stirring up emotions filtered through an LCD screen sending a strobe of lightning bolts through his cranium. Sitting at a computer for extended periods does not calm you down….so they say. Lie down, be still, close your eyes and think of joyous scenes playing out in your daydreams. Bunnies hopping through a green meadow with daisies and tall giraffes munching on leaves way up high in the trees. Beautiful scenes of nature, nurturing thoughts, peacefulness.

Each time I lie down ambiguous thoughts fill my head and I think its going to explode! Is the door locked? Is my alarm set? Where is the damn dog?

Zealous sleeps next to me with her head lying on the crook of my ankle setting off a vibration thru my whole foot…another distraction.
I caress her nuzzle. She sleeps, snores in fact….I lie prone, stiff, on the brink of madness with my eyes turning a horrid onyx color.

Eye color changes with your moods ya' know. Jeez! Another distraction….

Bring on the dancing squirrels…

Nylecoj

LOL Doug!! They say to count sheep to get to sleep, but you know what? I find counting squirrels much more interesting!

giraffe

Wow, Doug. That reminded me that Dostoyevsky was an epileptic (before meds). He could only write 6 months out of any year. The rest, he was bedridden recovering from a 'grand mal siezure'. His first one happened in front of a firing squad in Siberia. Ya can't make this spit up.

Anger is about folks passing on their dysfunctions to their children. It's funny, but not. Glad we're cool. My bad.

marius

Both parts are 326 words. Part 1 contains all of word list and can stand on its own as a complete story. Part 2 leaves out vanquish, ambiguous, innocuous and fleeting.


THE MISSIONARY
Part 1: Unnatural

The canopy was a mercy. It prevented the sun from burning the floor of the jungle, and on this particular day, no matter how hot and stifling the air, Sister DiVesperdi was certain it would feel even worse to be directly in the sun’s rays. She shifted on the ground and gave a caress of gratitude to the blanket. It was her bed and unless they were inundated with rains, so was the ground.

She didn’t mind. And this wasn’t because she was zealously eager to vanquish comforts in service to the Lord. It was simply the joy. She was joyful before the kidnapping but, unlike others in her group, it was not a fleeting joy, the kind that vanishes on the brink of chaos. Her joy was the natural radiance of one who fully loved.

They were starting up the morning camp fires. She heard the men whispering with great agitation. They didn’t know how to lay down their troubles. She said prayers for them, for their parents, their wives and children, brothers and sisters.

Dominic saw her watching. He took her a cup of tea and stood uncertainly. “I’m sorry Sister, but your rosary seems to be valuable. We have to keep it.” She nodded and said, “Yes it is, onyx and gold. My father gave it to me but if you need it now, I don’t mind.” The man nodded uncomfortably and left.

“She is unnatural!” he said. He shivered.

“Yes," said old Alejandro, "I don’t know which is worse, the ones who are terrified or that one.” He crossed himself, an old habit. “Perhaps she has mastered the art of living with ambiguity?”

Another man grinned. He suggested HE could terrify her.

Dominic felt revolted. “You idiot!” he hissed. “We are not barbarians! We do not mutilate, violate or otherwise enrage our enemies.”

“You’re right,” said the grinning man. “We just put a gun to their heads and it’s over in seconds.”



Part 2: Collapse

Negotiations were not going well. It had been four weeks. Three of the hostages were dead. At this rate they’d be out of hostages in ten weeks. Alejandro joked that they needed a miracle.

He had been listening to the BBC news. Initially, the kidnappings had attracted world-wide attention, but recent events were now providing topics of more appeal. Some zealous few were heading a campaign for hostage release, but the super powers were strangely silent. It seemed the plan for resolution was to give more attention to the religious right.

The rebels sat late around the campfire, smoked nervously and argued about how to proceed.

When Sister DiVesperdi awakened the next morning, she had been dreaming of her Onyx rosary. In the dream Father Gregory returned it. The onyx beads looked strangely red. A voice spoke softly and suddenly the rosary beads turned into drops of blood and fell gently from her hands. Then she awoke.

Early morning birdsongs sounded in the canopy, but she did not hear them. She knew what to do. She closed her eyes and began a meditation upon the miracles. She felt a caress of love fill her spirit and surround the entire camp. All were enshrouded in love, benefitting even if they hadn't yet heard the soft whisper from within.

When the rebels came to get her, Dominic led the group but he was not comfortable; the woman had no fears and it unnerved him terribly. As he approached the tiny holding area, he saw the missionaries huddled in a group, their prayers buzzing like bees. He called out her name and then he saw her. He stared in horror and fell to his knees.

The old man, Alejandro, came up behind his friend and looked in shock at the Sister’s hands. He saw her side, wet with blood, and when he looked at her feet, he saw that they were bleeding too.

“Stigmata!” he gasped. Then he collapsed.

belladonnis

Hey everyone love the stories!
Doug I think I will stick around for awhile untill my insperation runs out, then you will find me in the gallery untill that runs its course and brings me back here!lol

Hey Login that glimmer of hope was realized , and Ny dont worry Zoe didnt have a family she did, just not a conventional one with a mom and a dad. If the word count would have been longer I would have gone into more detail. Her life after the cure was a glorious one. In a sense I ment for her to be quite like a living saviour. A child not created in passion but for the sake of saving our souls much like Jesus but in a more literal than spiritual sense.

Cant wait to read a few more stories!

giraffe

Very interesting, Marius. It needs more - something innocuous since that word isn't on the list. She needs her beads back. Taking them seems to be what started this mess. Robbing charity. Very neat concept.