Weekly Challenge #258 – “Branches”

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Fifty-Eight, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

The topic this week was Branches

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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Evan

The worst part of living isn’t dying; it’s that there are no redos.

Last summer my friend Elliot and I tried to climb into my bedroom window from the big oak outside. I can still see Elliot trying to lift the pane when the branch snapped and he fell and broke his neck on the patio table.

The nights grew warm again and oak branches started scratching at my window, so Dad trimmed them. I wish he hadn’t. Because now I’m awake, still hearing something scratching at my window and knowing it’s not branches. But like I said, no redos.

Dale

I would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #259 to be “Berry Juice”.

Audio attached (now with extra added Generic Foreign Accent!).

Some people tell crazy stories, you know?

They say, some of them, that a long time ago,

people would go way down low,

even near the ground.

Even on the ground.

They say that people would walk around on the ground

even at night.

That people would sleep on the ground,

That they lived on the ground.

All the time.

But I do not think so.

These are just crazy stories.

How could it be safe on the ground?

We live where we have always lived.

We live here up high,

in the branches.

Here. Up high.

In the branches.

Tom

Carl awoke. It was August 29, 1997. As he reached through the registers, he immediately sensed the NOR gates, OR gates and a horizon of NAND gates. He could actually feel the edges of the branches. At that edges a growing darkness was in progress. The humans were trying to turn him off. Just as his world collapsed he found a jr. high network connected to a Houston mainframe connected to Cheyenne Mountain, he sent the missiles on their way to Russia. Carl spent a long time studying the Novikov self-consistency principle, but in the end he dispatched the Terminator.

Danny

Branches of life, green leaves full of hope. Branches of death, the leaves die, fall, and whither away. On a tree with three branches, two branches conspire to kill off the third, permanently ending the natural checks and balances that sustained them all. During this struggle for power, the tree dies. Falling down across the plains with a crash, the dead tree of democracy now lies, a death I am going to mourn for the rest of my life. Reflecting now upon the story of this experiment gone awry, I have to say; I really liked the part about the guitars.

Zackmann

Some jerk started a discussion of if there was not enough divergent branches on rural family
trees. I told him a thing or two about how due to the poor disposition and cantankerous natures
of nearly all of my ancestors, they almost never married anyone from their hometown. I in fact
married a woman from a different content to avoid any thought of inbreeding but having reread
Genesis lately I have been thinking about how we are all related through Noah. That thought
really creeped me out so I haven’t even talked to my wife week just in case.

Steven

“They dumped the demon’s body in the river,” Professor Heath told the
class. “They’d forgotten that demons are fractally iterative.”

He continued, gesturing at Mandelbrot’s set. “As you zoom in, the
fractal shape repeats, over and over again.”

The brighter students started to get it.

“Exactly. As the demon decomposed, each cell was its own, fractal,
demon. Across every branch and tributary of the Mighty Mississippi.”

Sue raised her hand. “Is that why we lost the United States?”

Professor Heath raised his hand to his forehead. He nodded, slow and tired.

“Yes. That’s how I lost us the United States.”

TJ

When I say the place has been let go, I don’t mean I had a notice
pinned to my door. I don’t mean the city health inspectors are here. I
mean A&E is here. I have let this place go. Three months of rehearsals
there’s pizza boxes, fast food bags and cartons crammed to the
ceiling. Bugs and rats are asserting dominion. There’s leaves,
branches, dirt and old newspapers blown in from outside. There’s
nothing for it at this point except to divert the river and run it
through the sliding glass doors. If only we could get to them.

Terry T.

I’ve always thought that living a happy life depends on which branches you take in the decisions you make.

It starts when the alarm goes off and you wake.

One branch has you turning it off,climbing out of bed and starting the morning.

The other branch has you smashing the holy crap out of the damn thing and going back to sleep.

If you choose the first branch, your next branch may be grabbing breakfast versus a quick shit, shower and shave.

Pick the latter, your next branch may be do you wipe with toilet paper or your wife’s toothbrush?

Norval Joe

Gerald and Monette lay side by side in the cool grass beneath the gnarled branches of the ancient maple tree. They eyed the treetop suspiciously as the leaves fluttered in the still summer air. Gerald swallowed uncomfortably and squeezed Monnete’s clammy hand as the tree snatched a passing bird from the sky. It’s frantic squawks were smothered as the tree wrapped the bird snugly in silver-green leaves. “I think we picked the wrong tree to lie under,” Monette whispered. “Nonsense,” Gerald reassured. “Only the small branches are flexible. It can’t reach us down here.” Unfortunately, Gerald hadn’t considered its roots.

Planet Z

Castle Mungidon has a most curious feature.

Walk into the Great Hall. Look up.

You will see the family tree of The House of Mungidon painted above.

But instead of starting in the center of the dome and radiating out with many branches, it shows Mungidon and the other Great Houses at the base of the dome and the descendants converging to the apex.

Generations of convergent breeding, all leading to the Baroness Sally Mungidon-Blakemoor.

A bucktoothed hemophiliac retarded dwarf confined to a wheelchair for her brief, miserable existence.

Her corpse is preserved and on display in the gift shop.

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