fandomsecrets | [ SECRET POST #2370 ]

[ SECRET POST #2370 ]

⌈ Secret Post #2370 ⌋

Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.

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Notes:

Secrets Left to Post: 05 pages, 105 secrets from Secret Submission Post #339.
Secrets Not Posted: [ 1 - broken links ], [ 1 - not!secrets ], [ 0 - not!fandom ], [ 0 - too big ], [ 0 - repeat ].
Current Secret Submissions Post: here.
Suggestions, comments, and concerns should go here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She moved quietly through the dwelling, taking her time, enjoying the cool of the hardwood on the pads of her feet. It was a large dwelling, larger than the old, with lots of interesting spaces to explore. At first, it had overwhelmed and annoyed her. She had resented the giants for moving and had refused to show them affection or bathe them for many cycles. Now, she hardly ever thought about the first dwelling, and couldn't imagine leaving this one. If they decided to move again, she would have to intensify their punishment. They would come to see reason eventually. And if they did not, then she would withdraw her attentions altogether.

The moans of the other one drifted up from below. He was probably sitting in the foot place, staring up at the portal. Pathetic. Every time the giants went outside of the dwelling, he assumed that he had been abandoned. She had feared the same when she was young, but now she knew the truth: they were simply checking on the reaches of their territory, as any self-respecting creature would do. Would he have them leave what was rightfully theirs to any mangy beast that happened to wander through? She accepted that they did what they must.

Still, she had to admit that they had been gone longer than usual.

No matter. She was not one to panic. The other would work himself into a frenzy and cry until he vomited, but she could hold the worry at bay for hours. They always came back eventually. She couldn't understand why he hadn't figured that out yet. She also couldn't understand why smacking him in the face never helped, when everything within her told her that it should. Perhaps she just needed to hit him harder.

YOUR TURN. JUST START WRITING. SEE WHAT HAPPENS.

are you high

He woke up one morning with blood on his hands and no memory of what had happened. This wouldn't have been so strange, not anymore, save for one thing: his videos were gone. Everything. The Youtube account he swore he had been posting to for years had disappeared without a trace. His Twitter, too. He frantically searched through his minimal possessions -- if only he could remember where he had last been, maybe he'd left them there? But there was no proof. No way to remember. Not without the tapes. They were the only constant in his life, the only thing that was stable, the only thing that could fill in the blanks, and now they were gone.

At the same time, he felt as if a massive load had been taken off his shoulders. Despite his confusion, he felt relief -- but also sorrow, as if a part of him had gone, lost forever with the videos. The most disturbing part was the fact that he knew, without question, that the blood was his. He didn't know why he knew, but his instincts never failed him. Led him nearly to his death, yes, but failed him? Failed to guide him to a strange hint, a fragment of information, something to guide him forward? Never. In the distorted haze of his life, his instincts, at least, were clear as day.

But he had checked his body pretty thoroughly, and there was no clue as to where the blood had come from...and somehow he doubted it had been a nosebleed.

Something very important had happened. Something big. For better or worse, he was certain his journey was at last coming to an end.

If he could only remember...

This is really belongs in the games thread.

Day one of this shit and you assholes are deciding to police people.

If you aren't case, GTFO.

From what I've seen, it's just one or two trolls that cling to this place for dear life, as they have nothing better to do. I'm starting to think there's more trolls here than regulars. I don't know what they'll do when this site finally dies. Perhaps they'll get a job, or do something worthwhile with their time.

Nah, to clarify - games thread is for forum games that need replies, and stuff. "Post one reply to this with some writing" isn't really a back-and-forth thing! (Compare to the '3 word story' below, which requires replying repeatedly)

I wanna read more people's flash fictions or whatever!

Ditto, anon!

I cheated a little because I edited the bits that didn't make sense. But here:

We went out and it was a warm day; well, as warm as can be expected on this planet. We weren't sure if Earth was receiving our messages, so back we went to check the communicator, and wouldn't you know it, the weather had seeped in and it was ruined, water-clogged and in need of aeration. So in the end we spent half a day trying to dry out the damned thing, and when we finished the sun was cooler and lower, with the bluish light it gets towards evening. So we started home in the long cold afternoon, with our shadows behind us as thick and black as oil. Gravity hangs heavier here. Iyi thinks it strange that our shadows dance along behind us or in front of us back home, depending on the angle of the sun. I suppose having grown up here she's not accustomed to the way each step is an effort, even with an anti-gravity suit. Her body has not, of course, adjusted to these conditions- human bodies weren't made for such pressure, or our cells would burst like balloons and we would explode, or so I've been told by the scientists. But she's seen the animals, strange creatures with oddly-shaped heads and white bodies that reflect the ice and snow. Yeti they're called; spirits of snow and ice from one of our old words for them. But Iyi doesn't know the languages that came from Earth, she is only familiar with our home language and the series of whistles, light-signals and calls the base-children use to communicate with each other, modelled after another creature from this place.

The girl had a high, breathy voice, like a bird's chirp, and feathers that grew on her forehead and around her wrists in bright, showy patterns. She was probably just some rich kid with a thing for body engineering rather than someone with connections, but it still made Way nervous.

At least, she thought, any gang who chose bright pink feathers as their representing mark would be easy to pick off. She could make a game of it, maybe—give a promotion to the hunter who brought the most feathered heads back.

“So,” Way started, smiling at the girl, “What is it you want that you'd be willin' to call me out here for?”

The girl glanced at her rows of jagged teeth—closer to a hundred than the three thousand it should be, but a good job nonetheless—and flinched slightly, gaze flickering nervously between her and the exit.

“Um.” She played nervously with the feathers on one wrist as she spoke. “I have an...object I need to retrieve. One of extreme value to me, though I doubt you'd find any worth in it.”

“Oh?” Way chuckled at that. “We don' care much about the value of what you want. What matters is if you can make it worth our while to get it for you, yeah?”

"You are not king."

Her voice is soft,soothing,like a kiss,but her tone drawls fear from his gut.She sounds content even,smiling above him,the dim light turning the right of her face pitch black. She looks like a painting,the kind you admire but not dare to take.As if a noose of doom hangs around her neck.

"Yes,I am. It’s in my blood."

"It’s in your crown."

The words give him chills. The woman shakes her head and lets her long hair brush his face. It tickles.

She stands and moves towards the table,grabs a bottle and a glass;she pours.The wine is bright red,royal and rich, gurgling lightly as it fills.The bottle clinks against the table.

"Pour one for yourself", he says,and the woman doesn’t bother obeying,but handles him the glass. It has a faint smell of almond. He swirls it around,watches the small tornado,thinks of it's taste in his mouth.She stands,a marble statue drawing life,and chuckles lightly when his lips touch the glass.

The king drinks and drinks and doesn’t stop until the glass hits the floor. His breath is ragged and quick;he’s dying. The woman steps away and closes her eyes,counting.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9.

"You are not king anymore."

Silence.

"But I am queen forever."

Edited 2013-06-30 07:54 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ SECRET POST #2370 ]

WRITE SOMETHING OFF-THE-CUFF

Re: WRITE SOMETHING OFF-THE-CUFF

Re: WRITE SOMETHING OFF-THE-CUFF

Re: WRITE SOMETHING OFF-THE-CUFF

Re: WRITE SOMETHING OFF-THE-CUFF

Re: WRITE SOMETHING OFF-THE-CUFF

Re: WRITE SOMETHING OFF-THE-CUFF

Not OP and I'm disappointed more people aren't doing this. :(

Re: Not OP and I'm disappointed more people aren't doing this. :(

Re: WRITE SOMETHING OFF-THE-CUFF

Re: WRITE SOMETHING OFF-THE-CUFF

Re: WRITE SOMETHING OFF-THE-CUFF