Splatter 1 - Daisy and the Green Queen of Bling (choice dreamer colet)

(for the parent story of this one, see Mix 7)

It was a dark and stormy night.

Remnants 18 - Late-night Limbo: Part 5 (Invasion of Limbo)

I've been suspecting this rare, specialized version of limbo for quite some time now, and I finally encountered it again, confirming its existence.

Short Story (v1) - teh hungerrrr

It was one of those dreary, wintry days where the sky was that kind of light gray that evenly spread the buttery sunshine over everything, that kind of light gray that made everything that kind of light gray. Jonathan trudged through the snow that had built up on the sidewalk overnight, dragging one foot after the other, as he did every day. He left behind him two evenly-spaced channels as if he were laying down a new branch for the railroad that ran through the town, one that would take people straight to the town store.

Ingredients 4 - More Short Story Drafting

q|o O|p
\D/

**WARNING**

What I have here will be disturbing. Please note that the fact that I know it is disturbing is a clear indication that I am not disturbing.

In case you want to spare yourself from having to read disturbing things now, I've put all the disturbing things after the break. I will, however, write this post with some level of effort to make you want to read it, just so I can laugh internally at your disturbance.

Anyway, last time I wrote about my short story, I introduced Jonathan. I'll tell you now that Jonathan is not the kind of person you think he is, unless I've already told you in person what kind of person he is. When you read the excerpt later in this post, you will clearly see what I mean. Even if you do read the excerpt, though, you will still be mistaken.

See, my reason for writing this story (besides it being required) is not to subtly share some kind of deep, emotional, soppy experience in my life. I'm not trying to let you in on issues with my family or my love life. Even if I had one of those kinds of stories to tell, frankly, I'd think it's somewhat silly to have to use the mask of a "fiction" piece to pour my heart out. You know why fact is stranger than fiction? It's because people are too weak to write fact as it is, so instead they think they can get by by writing some "fiction" thing that dumbs it down enough so that others can experience the "same" feelings that the authors did. In the world of fact, there is no feeling that can be expressed exactly through words, so don't even try. Different people feel different about different things, and the more you try to cater to those differences, the more unclear your story becomes, and then it loses its original intent.

...Sorry, that was me just ranting about how I feel like what I've been reading is so generic. Somewhere, deep down, I do enjoy reading stories like that, so keep writing them, people.

I digress. For some reason or another, I've decided to build my story upon a premise that no one has any true experience with, something unreal. Try as you might to understand Jonathan by imposing your realities on his actions and descriptions, you will not understand fully until I tell you. Maybe I wanted to feel somehow superior to all of you by keeping you in the dark. Maybe I was just tired of reading the same thing over and over, so I thought I'd be the one to MIX it up. Maybe I actually am trying to share my true, inner feelings with the world (although I certainly hope not). Maybe...

Read it, criticize it, analyze it, do whatever you want to it. Just keep in mind that even I am not completely sure what my intents are in writing this story.

Mix 5 - in the name of love [flame on the vine o']

Damn. Damn it.

I need to make a decision. Now. Continuing to stand here would be dangerous. Think. If I drop down to the left, I can make a quick enough getaway to keep myself relatively intact. But that means I'd have to start over again. I've come all this way; there's no way I'm going to back down now. It's taken relatively little energy to lay low and avoid capture, so I should have no problems fighting. But I didn't plan on ever getting caught. I didn't plan on fighting, so I didn't even consider how many of them I would be up against.

Damn it.

Creative Assignment - Intruder

The house alarm's little "bing-bong" sounded in its usual, cheery manner, as it did each time one of the doors opened to welcome somebody home or each time one of the windows opened to welcome a breeze. The chime broke through the music I was blasting, the music that halted midway through the song as I immediately pressed the pause button.

Why did that chime just go off.

It wasn't even a question because I knew it could only mean one thing: someone or something had just entered my family's home. My thoughts quickened with my heartbeat as adrenaline inundated my veins.

Was it my parents? No. They left over three minutes ago. Even two minutes was too long for them to turn around if they had forgotten something. My parents were gone.

Was it my sister? No. She was at her friend's birthday party. The party was a few towns over, and it was supposed to end at 8. It wasn't my sister.

Oh jeez, this really sucks. Because no one else has the keys to our home. And that means someone just breached the walls of our shelter. Oh jeez. Someone just broke into my house.