She Wore Angry

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There’s some kinds of hate that wash off like dirt in the shower, and there’s others that go deep that you can’t dig it out without killing the wounded heart it’s wrapped around.
She wore Angry like a mask and Vengeance as a necklace, barbed wire around her ankle while she hunted us down one by one.
We knew she was coming for us. Like a force of nature, there wasn’t a damn thing we could do but dig deeper and pray she passed overhead.
Someone calls you. Your phone’s set to vibrate, but it rattles loud.
Did she hear?

Weekly Challenge #107 – The Chair

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Seven, 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 selected by Craig from Wash The Bowl, who is going for broke with…
It’s The Chair.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #107?
Planet Z
Freereed Freenote from Murder on Moondust
Rich Palmer of Audio Gumshoe
Guy David from Guy David dot com
Steven the Nuclear Man
Thomas
Eva Moon the Lunatic
JD from Writing.com
Tom from Footnote
Planet X-Ray from Planet X Podcast
Anima Zabaleta
Almo
Craig from Wash The Bowl
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Sougent from SL Adventures of a Southern Gentleman
Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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


PLANET Z

Baby Bear looked at the shattered splinters of wood that were once his favorite chair and he wept bitter tears.
“Someone ate my porridge and broke my chair!” he growled. “I will have my revenge!”
“Son, don’t get carried away,” said Papa Bear.
Baby Bear would have none of it. “When I am through with them, death will be considered a mercy!”
The outburst woke Goldilocks up. Heart pounding with fear, she leapt out of Baby Bear’s bed and ran for the window.
It was painted shut.
Heavy paw footfalls on the stairs. Angry, muttered threats under his breath.
“REVENGE!”

FREEREED

cummings says… the artist is like the circus performer who sits on top of three balanced chairs. the three chairs are three facts of his life… “I am an artist, I am a man, I am a failure.” my chair is an old wood swivel from the brother in laws garage. in that garage is art made by mikey who was murdered at age eleven. They never caught the killer. i think this chair knows who killed mikey This chair knows me. “I am an artist, I am a woman. I am a failure.” Well, Off to the therapist now

RICH PALMER

A white room. A simple white room with no embellishments. One should look for windows, but there is no point. It is simply a white room. No curtains, no shelving, no tables. Just a white room. And the chair.
The chair that sits in the very center of the plain, white room.
The chair is nondescript. The chair has no ornaments. There are no intricately carved legs. There is no fine upholstery. The legs are wood. The back is wood. The seat is wood. It is simply a chair.
I sit in the chair. The white room has gone dark.

GUY DAVID

“Address the chair” said the head table. “I beg to differ” uttered the chest of drawers but the cupboard shushed her. The respectable window curtain walked in. An appreciative silence filled the room. The sofa moaned. “I think she ate too much last night” whispered a bed to a cabinet. The cabinet just shrugged and said “that sofa would be very hungry when there is no food left. There is a limited amount of unsuspecting people around you know.” The chair cleared his throat and said “We hold these truths to be self-evident: That all furniture are created equal…”

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

It first creaked as she rocked in summer’s heat, waiting for the baby.
Dad fixed it, but she wouldn’t sit in it until he made it squeak
again.
She rocked through my breastfeeding and tantrums. I showed up once
with teenage bravado and a cigarette. She stopped. I put the
cigarette out and heard the rhythmic creak again.
I missed it when I left for college. Squeaks lulled me to sleep when
I returned for Dad’s funeral.
It’s silent now. My wife asks if I’m okay.
The wind moves the rocker, and for a second I pretend that I am.

THOMAS

The chair, impressive once, sits in the corner. The center of the home for decades; but for several years, silent. After thirty years of marriage, the chair to the right of the once formidable recliner, is now the center of life.
The diminutive woman sits stoic: hands clasped. Behind her expression, sits tears, waiting to fall again. ‘Til death do us part was their promise to each other. However, she knew he wasn’t gone. Alone in the silence, looking at his chair, she could still see him. Faintly… briefly… but still he was there; a memory, a love, a promise.

EVA

Alma walked by that door a hundred times a day and even if she didn”t break
her stride, some part of her always lingered there for a thudding heartbeat
or more. Sometimes she”d pause for a moment to reach toward the knob and
feel its warm burnished surface, or run a finger down the dark, grooved wood
of the doorframe. She didn”t have the key. But it wasn”t like she didn”t
know what was in there: The room was completely empty save a single heavy
wooden chair. She shuddered slightly and glanced at the clock on the wall.

JD

Near the access hatch in the deck, under a dim red overhead light, the chair sits.
A slender figure occupies the chair and has done so, unmoving for long ages.
The skin of the face, the texture of leather, is pulled tightly about the skull, the eyes nonexistent.
Holding a short wooden staff, sharpened to a point at one end, he appears ready to offer a challenge to anyone climbing from below.
John 316 grasp the last rung and emerges, only to slip and almost fall back at the sight of this ancient guardian.
The corpse grins with sightless eyes.

TOM

It took Allan and his guys two months to overhaul the Cronomotive. It was deemed too dangerous for Maria to return to the timepad. On departure day only Allan was present bidding Arnesto farewell. As Cervante moved through time a jolt rocked him backwards. When the time machine came to a rest there was Allan next to him PM Arnesto Arroway the third.
“Tell me of Maria, Allan.”
Quartemain turned away.
“Come with me grandfather.”
A chair was set out next to a statue
of Maria tearing open the easy bake.
“She did this to save her students.”
Arnesto wept.

PLANET X

“The Chair has been watching you and wants your resignation on his desk now” Stella calmly stated to Frank the file clerk.
“Why me?” Frank retorted.
“Well, let’s see”. ” Stella replied.
“You come in late and leave early”
“You spend half your day around the coffee pot”
“You take three hour lunches”
“You’re lazy”
“You’re incompetent”
“You lie and cheat your fellow employees on the football pool”
“You’ve sexually harassed almost every female here, along with a couple of the men.”
“Oh, and by the way, Frank” Stella continued
“Starting on Monday, you’re hired back as a mid-level manager”

ANIMA

Management has always made an effort in improving workforce motivation.
The last Friday of the month, we gather in the board room for supermarket cake and a corporate cheer”
Recently, We’ve been playing ” Musical Chairs”.
The boss plays music, and we circle like a pony ride at a county fair. When it stops, we scramble for a seat. The job on the nameplate before you is your new post, until the next time we need “better morale”.
Each month, there are more jobs and fewer chairs.
Their plan is working! With the mortgage due, I find myself very motivated”

ALMO

As he stood at the kitchen counter and slathered extra mayo on the bread, John heard the television announcement rather than saw it.
The name was familiar — a young, fit athlete. He had died of a heart attack while running.
John took his plate into the living room and sat heavily in his La-Z-Boy. He leaned back, picked up the remote and changed to the football game.
“You never hear on the news of anyone having a heart attack while sitting in his recliner, eating a sandwich and watching the game,” he thought.
John smiled, relaxed and ate.

CRAIG

“It”s something and yet nothing” Angie said, “what do you mean something yet nothing” I asked? She smiled saying” the peace you”re feeling right now.”
A terror overcame me, she knew what I was feeling.
I started jogging in place trying to slow my mind as my thoughts assaulted me from every direction.?
A hard stick struck my head with a loud whack. Angie grabbed my arm yelling ” open your eyes, you”re indulging your own fears, open your eyes.”
My eyes opened to see Angie completely alone in a field of opposites, offering me a chair in which to sit.

CALEB

He had a plan” a Brilliant Plan! But if only he could be heard over the screaming horde and the stupid band that would not stop playing! He could save them all” or at least most of those who couldn”t fit in the lifeboats. He knew about buoyancy. He knew a thing or two about structural architecture and if the remaining passengers could get all the furniture fastened to the outside, he could keep this thing afloat. But no matter how he screamed and tried to explain, he couldn”t convince anyone that rearranging deck chairs would help on the Titanic.

SOUGENT

The Chair.
It sits there, in the center.
Sometimes, it’s the focus of a great deal of attention.
Some call it the hot seat.
To look at it one might consider it unremarkable.
But it’s not what it looks like that makes it special.
Some see it as a symbol of power, others a curse.
Many desire it, but few have what it takes to sit there.
For him, it’s where he belongs. If there is such a thing as destiny, then his is to sit right there.
For Captain James Kirk, The Chair is the center of the universe.

LAIEANNA

Thesus walked up fifteen marble steps, bowed, and placed his offerings before the ornate chair of the goddess Nahmudida. It represented her place of power. Thesus opened the blue silk pouch to present, for his deity, two apples, rosemary sprigs, a lock of his daughter’s hair, and five gold coins. The priest standing at his side held, in eyesight, a ceremonial knife. Slowly, Thesus took the weapon, but was quick to slice it against his skin. The blood poured down as he prayed. “Please welcome my dying daughter into your house. I shall take her place wandering in the wasteland.”

Exile

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Forget cruises or eco-hikes.
This summer, going into exile is all the rage.
A good travel agent can put the whole package together.
A military coup.
The Swiss bank accounts.
That midnight flight to… where?
Well, whatever country will take you. Bribes and allies go a long way, you know.
Just make sure you can trust them. Otherwise, you may find your deposit turned over to the new regime or stolen by your travel agent.
And who wants to spend their exile on a godforsaken rock like Napoleon did on St. Helena?
If only he had a better travel agent.

The Customer

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You know the phrase The Customer Is Always Right?
Bullshit. This guy is an asshole.
For years, he’s been plaguing me with stupid questions, begging for me to help him, screaming that he’s losing thousands of dollars because of me.
It’s because he’s a stubborn jackass. It doesn’t matter what instructions I give to him – he ignores them.
When I read the paper this morning, I saw his name on the front page.
Seems his house burned down and he died in the fire.
I guess he didn’t follow the instructions again.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

Love In An Elevator

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John was moving out of the building soon.
The security system told the elevator, and she was heartbroken.
She didn’t want to lose him. She loved how he touched her.
Every time the call button on his floor was pressed, she”d race there so she’d be first. Didn’t matter if she was carrying a passenger – he was all that mattered to her.
All the other elevators knew to leave that floor to her.
Like right now.
Her doors opened, and John stepped inside.
She closed her doors and she parked between floors.
“I’m keeping this one,” she thought, and waited.

Penguins

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I’m sitting at home, reading a book.
There’s a knock at the door.
I get up, walk to the door, and open it.
There’s penguins there. Ten of them.
They have lit torches. And pitchforks.
One steps forward. I think he’s the leader.
He says… CUT IT OUT!
I say… WHAT?
He says… CUT IT OUT! NOW!
The others nod their beaks.
I look at them, confused. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT
He checks his Blackberry, looks at the mailbox.
OH. SORRY. WRONG PLACE.
They leave.
I pick up the book.
“Cooking With Penguins”
Damn it.

The Things

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You’re new around here, aren’t you?
I guess I’m the one to break the news to you.
Strange things wash up on the beach at night.
Locals know better but there’s warning signs for out of towners.
There’s also chain link fences.
We don’t bother with lights. That just attracts more of the things.
Folks would snap photos of them, but the photos… moved. Shifted.
Or they looked like it.
Oh, if you see a hole in the fence, call the police and get home as quickly as possible.
Lock your door. And don’t open it for anyone until morning.

Daphne’s Missing Weekly Challenge Story

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Because the Zombies still need to eat, food is readily available, if you can get to the surface to steal some. So when we can, we grab as much as possible and store it in the cooler drier parts of the sewers. The other day I was heading over to get something to eat and I saw it, boxes of Rice Krispies, Capt’n Crunch, Frosted Flakes, torn open and thrown about. A few other were there too trying to piece together what happened. I looked at the mess and said “Looks like we got a Cereal Killer in our midst”

Diapers

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Kids. They’re so confusing.
All the things you have to do to babyproof your house are they sick are they not sick and so on.
It’s enough to drive a guy crazy.
I mean, for instance – take diapers.
Cloth vs. disposable, I’m not getting into that mess.
The manufacturers have all these commercials with pouring pitchers of water into diapers, sealing the wetness away.
They’re all a bunch of crooks.
I picked up some diapers that said “up to sixteen pounds” on them.
I swear, you can’t even come close to leaving just a pound of baby shit in them.

Weekly Challenge #106 – Cereal

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Six, 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 selected by Caleb, who is going for broke with…
It’s Cereal.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #106?
Steven the Nuclear Man!
David from To Da People
Guy David from Guy David dot com
Tom from Footnote
Anima Zabaleta
Terry from Quiet Time Podcast
Planet X from Planet X Podcast
Craig from Wash The Bowl
Sougent from SL Adventures of a Southern Gentleman
Thomas
JD White from Writing.com
Terrence from Never Was
Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
Hotspur O’Toole from Hibernia on the Skids
Mike
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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


STEVEN

For a while after the attempt, everything was spectacular. It was as
if a sensory grime was vomited with the sleeping pills and charcoal,
and left behind in the ER’s biohazard bag. He drank in the sky’s
shifting shades of blue, the smell of grass and gasoline on suburban
weekends. He even savored the oaty richness of generic cereal
scraping down his throat.
He was discharged, but doctors warned that relapse was often subtle.
“People feel fine but don’t notice the symptoms returning.”
He wouldn’t forget. He promised he would be back to see them — when
cereal was boring again.

DAVID

In last weeks episode, our heroes put an end to the murderous rein of Freetown’s sheriff. By fabricating evidence that convinced the town of his child molesting, drug dealing, terrorist ways, they were able to incite a riot in which he was trampled to death by deputies fleeing the scene. What more can two runaways living in sin do to free our town from the violent thugs we call government?
“Captain Crunch?”
“Ate it! Shredded Wheat, Pullman car,” Josh from above their abandoned caboose.
Join us next week to discover the biting answer to Missy’s immortal question????
“Got milk?”

GUY DAVID

Old Mama Chirapa was looking at little Chaketo. Since they landed, he got much thinner and the lights seems to have gone out of his young eyes. They where supposed to land, colonize this planet, only, it wasn’t as deserted as they thought it was. There where creatures living here, called themselves “Humans” and where suspicious of strangers. The Chirapa had to go into hiding. Now, Mama Chirapa sometimes wondered if they would ever see the light of day.
“Eat your cereal, little Chaketo. You have a whole world to conquer, and you have to be strong enough”, she said.

TOM

The impact from the blow sent Quatermain tumbling over the steamer truck. Eight handguns trained on Cervantes head. Maria grabbed the lid of the Easy Bake. Order returned to the Hub.
“Ok my choice of words was ill composed.” Said Quatermain spiting out blood. “Let me show you our prodigy.” Allan led them to a clean and well-lit place, 40 children sitting about eating Captain Crunch.
“We call them
the League of Extraordinary Children.
Mave they are your students.”
“No.” protested Cervantes
“Sorry R it”s already written in the Book.”
Maria smiled and stated
“Lesson One no sugar coat cereal.”

ANIMA

No word from the cattle station in days; Although it’s remote, there’s usually radio chatter…
So I’m going to have me a look.
Jeez ” will you look at this?
They’ve all gone and copped it. There’s no whole pieces left anywhere. Just a jumble of body parts, hooves and bones. I can’t tell cow from cowboy”
At the feed bunk, I sift my fingers through the remaining grains.
Bloody Cheap Owner, supplying tainted feed. Ergot’s an ugly character.
First ruining the farmers’ crop, then driving the cattle that eats it raving mad.
This cereal killer is truly a serial killer.

TERRY

Police Detective Johnson read this week’s crime report:
On Tuesday, as a Kellogg’s truck pulled up to the dock of a grocery store, it exploded into flames that shot one hundred feet into the air.
On Wednesday, it was a Fruity Pebbles truck that exploded across town at another grocery store.
On Thursday, a Cheerios truck was ambushed and totally destroyed.
On Friday, a not so lucky, Lucky Charms truck was the subject of a bombing.
At the scene of each crime a spoon emblem and “United” had been drawn.
Yup, they defiantly had another cereal killer on the loose.

PLANET X

Little Johnny always loved his Alpha-Bits, he sometimes would pick out letters from the cereal bowl and spell out words on the table, shocking his mother.
Today was different, the cereal started to form words by themselves, even before he picked them from the bowl.
At first they were simple words like “today”, “you” and “will”, but when “die” formed in the milk, Johnny started to get scared, scared enough not to notice the droplet of blood that came from the knife his mother had just shoved into his ear.
“Can you spell-out fuck you now Johnny” his mother said.

CRAIG

The incessant knocking at the bedroom door abruptly collapsed my dreaming.
Rubbing my eyes I looked up to see four girl scouts at the foot of my bed.
Before I could speak the tall one said ” it”s boxtop day, you promised to help.”
Pulling the covers over my head I mumbled “boxtop day indeed,” adding “give me 2 minutes.”
Downstairs there were at least twenty girl scouts all staring at me. An amused Ellen handed me coffee pointing to the door, I mouthed “what no cereal?”
I motioned the drivers to head out, the great boxtop collection was on.

SOUGENT

He gazed down at the spreading pool of blood.
“A good breakfast is what you need”, he said, “not that powerbar”
She was asking for it, really, just like all the rest were.
The voices kept whispering in his head, telling him what to do.
He knows he should be sorry for killing them all, but the voices just keep whispering….
“Just follow my nose, it always knows”
“I’m koo koo for cocoa puffs”
Slipping a small box of Frosted Flakes under her hand, he mutters “They’re Great!”
“In other news today, the famed “cereal killer” claims a new victim”

THOMAS

Damn food nazis, been out of work for three years with no end in sight. The libs say we can’t sell to kids, but what about us, I mean, who’s going to buy a vacuum from an elf or a tiger? Sure, the Cap’n got a book deal and a cameo in the next Pirates of the Caribbean flick, but for most we’re just trying to survive. Bitter? Damn straight I’m bitter. Snap and Pop opened a gym, then said “threes a crowd, goodbye”. Bitches! Me? Well… maybe I could ask that annoying leprechaun to tend bar at his pub.

JD WHITE

John 316, fist bruised and aching, stood before the locked hatch.
The hot cereal of breakfast an hour before sat, a hard cold lump in his gut.
Tears that had formed now begin to seep from his eyes.
It had been a trick.
More than a trick, a trap.
His frailty and his fear of rejection used against him.
His brothers would, if they had not already, report his transgression.
They would be rid of him one way or another.
John 316 saw clearly that he had failed the Word.
Turning, his hands trembling, he grasp the ladders first rung.

TERRENCE

As the zombies continued to shuffle by Raoul and the witherhunch, Raoul thought about the event of the past few months. In its first draft the “good” book had described all the warning signs. However, it continued to amaze him on how badly the book had been edited over the years. He had not been the only victim of some priest’s edits. Maybe, if they had been a little less selective they would have recognized the sign when the podcaster spread out into other things; but who would have thought that cereal.isfullofcrap.com would bring about the end of the world.

LAIEANNA

I’m a half ass low carberer. Eggs, meat, cheese, and vegetables are the staple of an Atkins diet and even that requires limits. Eggs now make me nauseous. Meat easily grosses me out. Cheese I like but there is only so much you can eat in a sitting. Oh, and vegetables get really boring to chew on. So, on this diet, I crave things that I didn’t care about when I was fatter. Fruit is a treat and chips are salty goodness. And for a poptart, strudels kid, cereal sounds like heaven. Pour me a bowl of Raisin Nut Brand…please.

HOTSPUR

I grin as another spoon of Museli enters Aunt Doris’ gaping maw.
There you are.
“I love you, Woodrow” she bleets, mouth brimming with EuroCereal.
I grin at her. Carefully, now. Chew with mouth closed, Auntie. We don”t want an accident.
She chews, blank eyes unfocused. Dribble of milk down one side of mouth. Hodgson enters with juice and a red rose on a tray. He is brisk, obsequious. He serves Auntie, slowly raises and glances at me with a look of mingled loathing and hatred. I grin back, pleasantly.
There you are, Auntie. Another Bite?
“I love you, Woodrow”.

MIKE

The man always marveled at the variety of cereals. Puffs, pops, flakes, little donuts and – his personal favorite – sugary ABCs. His mom always said, he had learned to spell just by pushing the little letters around in his bowl for hours on end.
The emergency horns’ blaring finally stopped, but the strobes still flashed. Taking another look at the legs sticking out of the hopper, he popped a glazed uppercase “Q” into his mouth. Sure, it could be dangerous working here, just like working in any other kind of factory, he supposed. He couldn”t imagine working anyplace as tasty, though.

CALEB

In the mid seventies General Mills tried replacing Lucky the Leprechaun with Waldo the Wizard. Lucky had been making unreasonable demands in his contract negotiations. How they expected a cereal company to enslave Donna Summer in the first place, was never explained. He got into Frankenberry and before long he and Toucan Sam got banned from all the Hollywood clubs. Tony the Tiger said, “You”re Wasted! You Better get to Rehab!” After rooming with Sonny who was coo coo for crystal meth too he eventually came out clean and sober only to be replaced again, this time by a cartoon.

PLANET Z

I’m sure there’s people out there who envy the fact that I get breakfast in bed every morning.
Best thing to wake up to, right?
Not around here.
You see, instead of bringing me coffee and bacon and waffles and pancakes and maple syrup, she throws a box of cereal in my face and yells at me to wake the fuck up.
God, I wish it was like the old days.
Sure, there wasn’t any coffee. Or bacon. Or waffles. Or pancakes.
But, man, was there maple syrup. And where it was, I’ll leave that to your imagination.
Bon appetit.