Nylecoj

First Thank you again Dragon, I am honored.
Second welcome to Think Write XXVIII. I will pass the torch on on the 28th sometime in the afternoon. 301 words exact,

Ambiguous
Down
Spark
Fry
Cloak
Number
Swim
Finger
Trap
Delusion

Have fun! I can't wait to see what everyone comes up with!

matthew

“BAG LUNCH”


“Captain Clerk, I will need my swim cloak before I go down.”

With a spark in her eye, she flashed me that ambiguous smile. “Don’t go getting any delusions that your captain has become your gopher, just because you put a ring on her finger.”

It was a trap, I knew. If I insisted she fetch me my swim cloak while I continued to pack, my superior officer would do a number on my left ear on the necessity of showing respect to ones leaders. On the other hand, if I ran off to gather the cloak on my own, my right ear was sure to be stopped by the wife, hurt because her man couldn’t read her and know that she was just having a little fun with him.

“I’ve torn this place apart looking for it and just can’t remember where the heck I put the darn thing.” Stupidity was always a win-win. She gets her superiority of knowing where my cloak was and I get my freaking swim cloak. “You’re not going to slip by me that easy my love.” There was that smile again, always leaving me guessing as to its intended purpose. “You will always be my lover, and for now I am your captain. If your mission succeeds, that may change, but for now, I’m the one you salute. I know you are still looking for the balance between the two, but the stupid act doesn’t work with me.” Oh, she was good. “Besides, I already packed your cloak. Now, if you’re ready, there’s someone who wants to see you before you go.”

“Small fry!” Our daughter runs over and hugs my neck and looks up with teary eyes. “Daddy, what do they mean when they say that you’ll be coming home in a bag?”

mouse

Nylecoj
Congrats on being chosen--it was an awesome story.
I will get busy on the new word list.

midnightpoet

301 words...no title...

We all have our delusions. It's what gets us through the day with some semblance of our sanity intact.

Our sanity is insanity. We are all insane in order to stay sane.

Day after monotonous day, we live in our delusions. We pretend reality isn't real.

...And maybe it isn't.

Reality is one of the most ambiguous concepts in the known universe. Who's to say that our delusions are not, in fact, the truth.

One's delisions may contradict another's. Can they both be real? We create our own universes, which overlap and intermingle.

Here we stand on this tiny orb, and each is but a number - one among millions, a meaningless spec on a spec.

Our thoughts seperate us. Our delisions identify us. None of us sees it the same.

Who are we anyway? Fingers and toes and the rest of this physically percieved body aside...just who are we?

Our feet pound the ground and our breath swims through the air, mingling, making us one...one thousand...one million. How many of us are there, searching for eachother?

We are everyone, and we are no one. We are not individuals and we are not the same.

We are seperate, and we are whole. All of us are broken, and none can be fixed.

We are not alone. We wrap arms around eachother, like a cloak to block out the cold.

But the cold is within and no spark can warm us.

Our hearts are frozen and our eyes are blank. We stare at the sky waiting for the sun to fry our insignifigant planet.

Our minds are a trap, and our souls cannot be set free.

So we fall down. Down into our delusions...and who's to say what's real anymore?

Is there anyone left to save us all?

midnightpoet

I just came across this to save myself from counting by hand now that I'm without MS Word. Thought I'd share it with you all...http://www.wordcounttool.com/

giraffe

I count 301 including title

I SELL WATCHES - BY WRAUGHN

Under my cloak, I have pinned a number of new and used watches. They are for sale. I've gotten very good at reading human behavior through this profession.28

My best location is the corner of 13th and Pearl St. I start out with the eye contact. If I see a spark of interest, then I proceed. Now it becomes more intriguing. Sometimes it's a street hooker who mistakes me for a "John". When that happens, I just give a small wave and shake my head "no". No harm done.

Then there's the people who glance away immediately as if they're too good for me. It's them I feed on. They used to make me feel inferior, but now I like their arrogance. I'm so glad to not be like them. I used to swim in their ambiguity and that's what ended me up here at 13th and Pearl. Actually I like it down here much better.

Some guys wonder if it's just a trap. They know that all my watches are stolen goods, but they wonder if they could make a good deal. I point my finger at the Rolex imitation and say "This is just $80." And they look at it real close and then they realize they're standing on a busy street corner looking down at some guy with his cloak open. That's so emarassing for them. They never buy.

My best catches are from guys who act like they're looking for directions. Then they whistle a little and walk up to me knowing I have something to offer. Some think I'm too wierd and some of them look under my cloak because they are wierd. But most of them end up buying a watch.

Then they still don't know what time it is.

giraffe

I missed "fry". So how bout

Now they still don't know what fryin' time it is.

Midnight. That is very good and rings of amazing truth.

mouse

midnightpoet

Very philosophical. haven't we all at some time or another entertained those same thoughts--Awesome.

maddyjean08

Matthew, your story gave me a sense of independence. I'm not sure if that's what you were going at, but it happened. I will say, maybe it's just because I'm 10, but I never got sucked into the story and turned back to the TV multiple times while reading it.
Giraffe, from your story, I sensed humbleness. That's probably not what you were going for, but a few weeks before I was born, my mom was flipped on a motoycycle, so I'm kind of mixed up. It gave me a few giggles, I must say.

midnightpoet

301 - not including title

"Justice"

Ted Jones had delusions of grandure. He sat there on the witness stand as though it were a throne, looking down his nose at the audince of jurors that already wanted his blood.

The prosecuting attorney was a cute little blonde girl who looked like she'd be more at home in a cheerleading uniform than in that courtroom, staring down a man suspected of countless homocides.

She leaned in close to him. "Mr. Jones, are you guilty of the murders presented today?"

There was no ambiguity in this case. He knew they had him by the short hairs after the trap they set, and he sat there with a superior smile on his face.

"Yes."

The attorney stood up straight, and began to pace.

"Mr. Jones, how many women have you killed?"

He held up one finger and motioned her to come closer. Staring right into her eyes he answered, "one less than I wanted to."

"Can you tell me the names of your victims, Mr. Jones?"

"They were nameless, and faceless. Insignifigant sluts who deserved to die."

The trial proceeded, unneccsarily. There were witness, dna, and other hard evidence that was beyond argument. Ted had no attorney and no defense. Everyone was fully convinced of his guilt. In the end, he was sentenced to death. Ted Jones' days were numbered.

The day he was set to fry, they led him down to old sparky. He still walked as though he wore the cloak of a king. His time on death row had not squashed his delusions, he practically swam in them.

No one was sad to see his lifeless body twitch with the electrical currents passing through it.

The families of the victims watched, hoping for satisfaction at the justice that had been served, but it was a hollow victory.

giraffe

Midnight, you really freak me out sometimes. I love it. Set to fry and led down to old sparky. Brilliant.

Maddy, yes it was about humility, but also about deviousness. Glad you read it.

And Matthew, I kind of get it like James Joyce.

Jocelyn, It seems that you've arrived at the loony bin. Enjoy your stay.

matthew

I had to chop this one down quite a bit to reach the 301 quota...



"ETERNAL DAMNATION"



As the flames abate, so do my screams. I don’t know why I scream anymore. I guess, that as I fry for eternity, they come more from habit than from the pain that began so long ago. Confusion wells up within me. I’ve had delusions aplenty since the day that skinless finger pointed the way to where I’d swim my afterlife in the never ending flames. This time; however; the flames actually ended.

I look around my asylum, amazed that my eyes have not melted from my skull. In the darkness, I see no walls and wonder if any exist. Looking down, the only floor is the one foot section that has been my immortal home. I don’t understand. Where’s my pain? Goose bumps arise upon my naked skin as a chill encompasses my being. I suddenly miss the reality of my flames. A spark of light from above catches my attention. I look up to see large stone steps that descend to my domicile where none existed before. Is this a trap? The steps are so close, surely I cannot reach them. Am I to leap, only to spend an unknown number of lifetimes falling into nothingness?

A cloaked figure slowly emerges into view, gravitating downwards, seemingly unaware of the steps placed before him. Fear, not chills boil up from within me now. I know this figure, though we’ve never met. This is his domain. He, the creator of nightmares, stands before me and drops his hood. No fantastic horns adorn his head as taught to me in life, but a skinless human figure dripping with a pus-like secretion, stares at me with an ambiguous smile.

“The steps are yours.” He says with a deep monotone voice. “I’ve chosen you to lead mankind to their destruction. Just take my hand.”

midnightpoet

301, not including title.

"This Girl"

When I ask for directions, I expect something like 'three blocks down, house on the left.'

Instead, when I asked her "How do I get there?" She answered, "Walk. Your feet will lead you."

Am I delusional, thinking this girl is into me? When she kissed me, I knew in the pit of my stomach that she meant it. She told me to meet her at her house, followed by the ambiguous directions.

I would suspect it to be some sort of trap...but if she were leading me on to hurt me or ensare me, I would think that she'd be a bit more specific as to where I should be going.

I paced my apartment, staring out to the spot I'd bumped into her. Man, she was cute. Not in that sterotypical sort of way. She was flowing, and vibrant, with a whimsical smile on a freckled face, and eyes that seemed to see things no one else could.

I was only with her a minute before she glided away, but I knew I was in love with this girl.

I threw on my cloak, fingering the fastenings before walking out the door. My brain felt fried as I tried to comprehend what I was about to do. My mind swam with a million thoughts, reasons why I should not be going to look for this girl.

I didn't even know what street she lived on, let alone the house number, but I closed my eyes and walked. I didn't know where I was, but when I opened my eyes I was knocking on a door, then she was there, grabbing my hand and leading me inside.

She grabbed a lighter and sparked a joint, inhaled, then handed it to me.

Yes, I was in love with her.

matthew

I can see that you are quite fond of this word list Jesi... or was your writing just bottled up while your computer was down & now it is spilling out... great stories all...

midnightpoet

I think it's a combination of both...my writing being bottled up and this word list setting off a creative spark in me. Thanks

I never knew you could write, by the way...gotta say, I'm impressed.

And giraffe...I love your story...what a devious fellow he is.

giraffe

Matthew, I was just talking to someone about the difference between Head Banging screaming and music where there is more of a mellowing feeling. I understand both. Your story sort of filled in some gaps.

Midnight, once again been there - done that.

And I only sell watches for survival. It helps me develop my philosophy as a side line.

inked_gemini

301 words not including the title.

"Prisoner"

I live in a room. I can’t ever leave my room. There are no walls. There is no door. And yet I am trapped in here. There is no window; I can’t see the world outside. I don’t know what time it is. I don’t even know the number of days I've been in here. Is it day? There is nothing to distinguish day or night. Darkness. There is only darkness. The only thing that is definite in here is the ambiguity…if that even makes sense.

I have no bed, no table or chair. I have nothing. Not even a floor to sleep on. I can’t breathe in here. It feels like drowning—struggling to swim to a surface I can no longer see, fiercely struggling, but only sinking deeper down into the abyss.

I have been in this cloak of darkness for so long that I’m convinced I am blind. The silence is so deafening that I can’t hear. I’m afraid to speak. The echo of my own voice only serves to remind me how alone I am. My senses are fried.

I pass the time trying to remember my life before this, but I can’t. So I make up memories. False memories of being happy. Of being loved. I indulge these delusions often. They are preferable to the nightmares I have of you. Your taste. Your scent. The touch of your fingers running through my hair.

I want out. I want to feel again. I want to feel the sun on my face, the warmth of a hot cup of coffee…even that exciting spark of a new relationship. But I think I will stay in my room. I choose this fate.

I am my own prisoner.

And I will never get out, but…at least you will never get in.

Nylecoj

Matthew, Thanks for starting us off with a wonderful tale, I loved it!
midnightpoet, Marvelous! I think there is someone out there to save us still.
and both your other stories are amazing, empty victory, and blind love are interesting topics.
giraffe, Your watch seller seems a very good salesman, and makes a fantastic story.
inked gemini, whoever the prisoner in your story is, I pity him with all my heart, you made it very real.
Thank you everyone, and keep the stories coming!

giraffe

Gemini. I have a tip for you - a bit of advice.

Shrink yourself down to half an inch tall
and crawl through that little crack in the wall
The one no one else even knows is there -
Nobody sees you when you are that small.

Go out once a week and peek
at those you once considered bleak
and those you once admired as strong
Find out you're the one unique.

Your swift story hit so hard
that I have turned into a bard.
Hopefully some other tale
will help release you from your jail
and do the same for you
that your story did for my sorry ass.

midnightpoet

301 - no title...this is a true story...


I'm a bit quirky, a colorful person, full of life and personality. I take joy in being creative, in letting my mind swim through colors and words to make something new and mine.

No one who knows me can understand the bliss I find in accounting. There's nothing ambiguous about it. This is why I say I like numbers better than people.

I was at a point in my life where I felt stuck, trapped, and I knew I needed to do something new. So, I decided to go back to school. But the question was...for what?

My fingers turned pages as I sat there looking at the course manual for my local community college. Early childhood education...office management...automotive. No, none of those were right for me. How do you decide what you want your future to hold?

I used to have this dream of writing for a living, and that delusion cloaked any realistic career goals. I had no idea what I wanted to do to my life.

Then I turned to the page detailing the accounting degree, and it was like a spark went off. I realized this was something I could do. I was always a math nerd in grade school, so why not choose something mathematical? So, down I went to the school, and proceeded to register for classes.

From my very first accounting class, I knew I had found my calling. There's something that feels right sitting and staring at balance sheets and other statements, feeling my brain fry as I try to find my error and make the books balance.

I still have years left of school to get the degree and certification I want, but I know what I'm doing with my life now, and that knowledge has brought me freedom.