Three Words, One Story

I need to keep writing. If you noticed, I usually had about a month apart between posts. If I am to work towards my success, I need to keep developing my skills. So along with my normal posts, I will also engage in writing exercises. On my Facebook, I asked my friends to provide me with: an object, an adjective, and a name. I will use this page to chronicle the exercise.

>>> 01/23/13 – (bubble, luminous, Wilda) – Sarah

Being a mage in Withersdale has never been an effortless endeavor. This is understandable, given that only the magically adept are allowed to reside here. It still comforted Wilda to complain, because she knew there was no other desirable environment to grow within. She would become a Witch, even if she never becomes one. The evaluation for Thornbrims was nearing, meaning the time of lethargy has ended for most. Failing twice to advance from Thornbrim to Shadelace meant banishment from Withersdale, and Wilda already failed once. She knew better than to be so lax in preparation, but she learned from her previous mistakes. In addition, her issues with anxiety would be too cumbersome at this moment. She was ready, so she continued to rest.

The day finally came, and the horns resounded through the city. Many of the Thornbrims were already standing at the gate, but Wilda knew the evaluation started thirty minutes after the horn. Taking a gentle stride, she found her place in line, and awaited registration. It was mandatory to attend the evaluations if you lived in Withersdale, so the High Sorcerer decided to make it more effective by having the mages compete for succession. This hastened the events, and made them enjoyable to watch, as opposed to the exhaustively dull evaluations of old. The competitions have run their course, and Wilda has once again risen to the final event. As she stepped toward the inner ring of the stadium, a cold memory swept across her body. Six months ago, a grip of fear held her hands. She tried to recite the incantation, but her mouth would not open. After witnessing talented spectacles of magic, she wondered how she was even allowed to reach this point.

That was scribed history, this was fresh ink. Wilda will become a Witch.

She raised her hands high in the air, and whispered to the clouds in ancient words. She pleaded for them to gather and block the sun. Slowly the sky began to shift, as masses of white and grey formed a shield against the sunlight. “My mother once said, that in darkness, you must find your own light! I now share this light with you!” Wilda’s hands began to wave, as the moisture in the air formed a large bubble. While sustaining the formation with her left hand, she reached to the sky with her right hand and opened the clouds. Sunlight poured from the hole, and shone upon the bubble, creating a luminous spectacle. The mages began to exclaim in delight, as the golden aurora of distorted rays reflected into the crowd. “She dual-casted! A Thornbrim dual-casted!” Normally a skill reserved for higher echelons of magi, Wilda simultaneously manipulated two spells without failure. The horn sounded, the skies dispersed, and the bubble splashed to the ground. The contest was over.

The High Sorcerer approached the podium to announce the successors, and as the names were given, Wilda did not hear her be called. After the last name was spoken, applause from the crowd roared with delight. Then the High Sorcerer raised his hand for silence, and called for Wilda Galesear. She returned to the inner ring, her hands tight from anxiety. He scolded her for what she already knew, that the usage of skills from higher classes of magi were forbidden. Then he stated that her mother had done the same, and went to become a beloved Witch that served Withersdale with honor. The horns blew a final time, and Wilda Galesear was now a Shadelace.

>>> 01/23/13 – (laser, vivacious, Maxwell) – Heidi

Maxwell fired the laser, without understanding the consequences. In fact, he cared nothing for them. His anguish screamed so loudly, that logic became deafened. Why did this happen? Why did she have to die? Why can’t everything just return to normal? The answers may never come.

The village of Pero Grove was never known for having disorder or crime. In fact, the town of Pero Grove was never known…at all. Resting high in the mountains, Pero Grove had the blessing of sufficient water, soft ground for farming, and warm green sunlight throughout the day. It was a self-sustaining place where people lived in harmony with one another, away from the blight of the surface world. Maxwell, a boy of nine years, lived with his older sister May in the house under the large apple tree. They sold and cooked with the apples to trade for other goods at the daily market. Every morning they passed through the courtyard market, and visited the emerald statue in the center of the village. It sparkled just as beautifully as it always was, a testament to this vivacious village.

Maxwell had little memory of his parents, it was shrouded in recurring dreams that passed as he grew older. All that truly remained was his father’s laser rifle, a tool he used to remove the apples. No one else in the village possessed such tools, but Maxwell was always willing to use it to help with menial tasks. His dream was to understand the origins of the laser, as it may lead to the fate of his parents. Something that Mayor Belk asked for him to forget.

One day, a loud sound reverberated through Pero Grove. One that no one had heard before. Mayor Belk had called for a meeting, ensuring that the noise was nothing to cause alarm. As everyone left, Mayor Belk stopped Maxwell and May before they could exit the door. He informed Maxwell that the laser rifle needed to be confiscated for safety reasons. Before Maxwell could protest, May stated that the rifle will be turned over the next morning. Maxwell was distraught, losing the laser rifle meant losing the only link to his past. May knew this, and ensured that they would never give up the rifle.

The sound returned, waking Maxwell and May to an unfamiliar morning sky. The sun was bright orange, the clouds and sky were painted pink and yellow. A spectacle that captured their attention, alarmingly interrupted by cries from the center of the village. May ran ahead to investigate, while Maxwell went to retrieve the rifle. He used it to help the village before, it was needed again. As he arrived, his body froze with terror. A large creature with massive arms was mercilessly destroying the market, and everyone within it. It was completely foreign to him, and looked almost identical to the laser rifle he unsteadily held. A large gray humanoid, with glowing green lines coursing through it, and giant arms with claws that looked like warped farm tools. With a horrible piercing scream, the creature continued to ravage the village. Lumber, fruits, pies, clothing, chaotically strewn about and saturated with blood. Amongst the familiar wreckage, a tattered blue dress caught his tear filled eyes. It was May.

Maxwell did not understand any of this. He did not understand the destruction. He did not understand the immense pain building up in his body. He became numb and fell to the ground. The screeching of the monster commenced, and woke Maxwell from his delirium. With no hesitation, he aimed with the laser rifle and fired on the creature. The beams reflected off of the creature, and dissipated into the air. What was this? The laser does not work? Maxwell struggled to maintain his composure, and ran to escape the monster’s grasp. Maxwell tripped over a pile of rubble, and fell to the ground, away from the creature piercing green eye. A man faintly called to him. Maxwell turned to find the voice belonging to Mayor Belk, but it was not his face. Half of it was torn, revealing a steel frame and the same glowing green eye as the monster. Mayor Belk begged Maxwell to run, and to take a path hidden behind his home on the outside of town. Suddenly, the monster grabbed Mayor Belk by the waist, and raised him into the air. For the first time, it hesitated. Mayor Belk stared motionless into the glowing green eye of the monster, then suddenly turned to Maxwell. “RUN, DO NOT SHOOT THE CRYSTAL! IT WILL-”

The monster crushed Mayor Belk, and dropped his remains to the ground. Now it’s attention was turned to the emerald statue, which was no longer shining. It seemed to slowly pulse, as if the life had been taken from it as well. Slowly it moved, crushing the remains of Pero Grove’s market underneath. Maxwell took notice to this, and remembered Mayor Belk’s words. As he aimed at the crystal, waves of fear swept over him. The Mayor’s plea grew louder and louder. His sister’s blue dress. The market. The laser. The blood. Maxwell cannot let this happen. The monster cannot have the crystal. It cannot have Pero Grove.

Maxwell fired the laser, without understanding the consequences. In fact, he cared nothing for them. His anguish screamed so loudly, that logic became deafened. Why did this happen? Why did she have to die? Why can’t everything just return to normal? The answers may never come.

>>> 01/23/13 – (my balls, huge, My Balls) – Alex

Good Morning,

I woke up again. I guess it’s just going to keep happening until I just keep sleeping. That would be nice, I don’t have a lot to look forward to anymore. I checked to see if my balls were still where I left them. Yes, still here. At least I remember that much, memory has been a little hazy. Probably the fog, I always get sick when I breathe it in. I left to go to the skyscraper again. Everytime I go, I find something different. That place is huge. Hopefully I’ll get more food soon, I mean I have enough, but when will that change? Things don’t change much anymore, but I can’t be too careful. Didn’t find food today, but found some new pencils. That’s good, I need to keep writing. Since the fog came back, it has been harder to think. Need to exercise my mind, like my body. I don’t have much else to say, so I suppose I’ll try reading this book again. Can’t give up yet, but it’s tough.

Good Night.

Good Morning,

Feeling a little better since yesterday, the skyscraper is covered in fog today. Better not go, but that means the Men In Suits will come through here again. They don’t go to the skyscraper either when there is fog. Pretty smart of them, but I’m smarter. Gonna hide in the sewer with my balls, they can’t have those. They’re my balls. Always trying to take things from other people in the apartments. Took my damn suit, but I got away with my food. Speaking of food, I need to get more soon. Gotta be careful with that. Better hurry and load my pack before they get here. Gotta give them credit, always punctial. I think you spell it like that, I am not sure. Better keep reading.

Good Night.

Good Morning

Killed a couple of rats and ate them. Didnt know i was a good hunter, glad i have some stregth left. They dont taste the same, hpoe I dont get sick. Guess its too late fore that, hahaha. They killed Dean. I didnt like dean that much, but its just a bad wake up call. The Suits will kill you if they find you. Wasnt like that before, i could remember when we all got along. I have dreams about it, we all lived in the skyscraper. Probably not real, cant be real. I have to get back there, maybe i can remember something. Have to rest, its not going to be easy.

good Night.

goodmornin

they live here, those sons of bitchs live here. i suspcted it but now i know. they live in the damn skyscrapr. Im hiding in here now, i have to know. Im not dumb, my mind is gettn weeker. Need to keep riting, need to remembr, might help fix this. keep having dreams, saw familr things, i had my balls on a table, pull one, let go, it makes the other ball move on the other side, i tried it now, did the same thing. never new it did that. Im close, i knw it. have to be strong. low on food, gotta rest so i dont eat anymore

goodnigt

gdmorn

the fog was here, wok up init, i found it, it has riting on it, says Myballs, my name s Tomas Myballs, frinds laughd at it, cant remmbr why, the suits knwo imhere, gettn sloppy, thy wil find me if not carfel, i migt have to kill thm, we used to b frnds, i remembr now, but they cant kill me, theyl eatme like they ate deen, shit i hav to get ot of heer, gt home to the aprtmt

godnigt

ialmst madit he stbed me trd to tak myballs, its me, i am mybals, spld my name rong, i remmber, so hapy i remembr, im Tomas Mybals, bleedng evrywer but i kild him, htat was for dean u prik, i hp somne finds mybook, run frm thfog, it kild us all, the fog kild us all, theskyscpr we were famly inth day, wman and bby in thpicture wthme, dont knw dsnt matr, buryme with mybals ifyu readths

gdbye

>>> 01/24/13 – (piranha plant , fat, Bartholomew) – Luke

I’m sure it has happened to you before. Maybe you put more food on your plate, than what you really needed. Maybe you took more cookies from the jar, than you should have. Maybe you demanded more of someone, than what was actually necessary.
We do not always believe it is a massive issue. But…it is an issue of “mass”. We all believe that “fat” is only reserved for body mass. However, it is possible to have a “fat life”. A life where you have so much, yet had so little need for it. Bartholomew had this problem, but not only because he had more than necessary. He was also fat. Very fat. Just like his name.

Bartholomew led an expedition to the Amazon, in search of fabled gold and treasure. With him, were three young and eager adventurers, willing to leap into the fray. Unbeknownst to them, Bartholomew only brought them to help carry the bounty, for little of the cut. For if they protested, he would remove them from his boat. Simple as that.

They arrived at the port, and began preparing for the journey. As they were leaving, words of caution floated in the air. A mist of danger. “Beware the plants, the slow be damned”. This was no cause for concern, for Bartholomew offloaded a vehicle built for this expedition. After a lengthy cruise through the bush, the group came upon a strange sight. A statue of what seemed to be a deity of old. “Surely the treasure of an ancient kingdom lies beneath!” Bartholomew wondered. He beckoned for the young men to unload the digging equipment, and began to set a camp.

Days had passed with little result. But during the night, Bartholomew would sneak to the site, and quietly dig for the treasure. One night, it happened. He dusted off a chest, that revealed several ceremonious items adorned with gems. Upon viewing his bounty, his fat greed smothered all facets of logic and sensibility. He cannot let them see this, they may overpower him! They will bury him and take the treasure for themselves!

As dawn broke, Bartholomew constructed a plan. He smothered himself with dirt, and wrapped himself with vines. The words were “Beware the plants…something, something”. He let out a devilish cry, waking the nubile adventurers into panic. “THE PLANTS, THEY ARE EATING ME!! TAKE THE VEHICLE! TAKE THE BOAT! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!” With great hesitation, the adventurers drove off per his orders. Bartholomew was elated. He did not inform them of his second boat, that he purchased from his last expedition. Unfortunately, he would have to carry the chest along the tire worn path, but the reward would be great.

He returned to the site, and began to lift the chest. He was unaware of how heavy it actually was! No matter, just a minor bump in the road. As he drug the chest along the path, he began to tire. Regret began to gnaw at him, but it was too late for that. Besides, this was not his first expedition, he had no need for those scrappers, he will be even richer! The ramblings of a fat ego.

He stopped again, needing yet another break. As he sat, an uneasy rustle shifted behind him. It can’t be those fools, the tire tracks are in the same direction…but what if two of them are hiding, waiting for him to pass?! In a panic, he stuffed the ornaments in the front and back of this coat, upholstered his pistol, and threw the chest into a nearby lake. The rustling became louder. Slowly, he turned to meet his foe, pistol in hand. A giant piranha plant met his gaze.

Before he could react, the plant opened its’ massive jaw, and bit into Bartholomew. He begged and pleaded to be released, boasting of his massive wealth that he would be willing to part with. It seems he did not hear himself negotiate with a hungry plant, and realize the futility. Too much fat behind the ears. Strangely, to the misfortune of the piranha plant, greed would be the cause of its’ own demise. The ornaments protected Bartholomew from being chewed through, and weighed him down substantially. Instead of removing this inedible miscreant, it continued to try and eat him. Eventually, the stalk of the piranha plant began to snap, and gave way under the weight of Bartholomew.

He was alive, but almost died from his paranoia and greed. Torn from this event, Bartholomew realized that excess was no good to him in the afterlife. He discarded the treasure into the lake, because he knew it was too cumbersome to carry, and made the trek back to the dock. Pray Bartholomew remembers this day. Perhaps he will decide to lose a little weight, in his life.

>>> 01/24/13 – (butts, succulent, Abobo) – Kristina

Poor Abobo. Undergoing so many changes. At one time, he was unmatched in strength and brutality. Now after being turned away by the Black Dragons, and Skullmageddon’s Army, he was unemployed. At first, he blamed the skill of the Double Dragons, Billy and Jimmy Lee, for his demise. But now he is confronted with the truth. He only fell in battle, due to his lack of focus. The cause of his lack of focus?

An obsession with butts.

Why did he not realize this? Did his masculinity tune the possibility out? When he was staring at the butts of this allies and foes, what was coursing through his mind? Now that the fighting is over, he now understands his true feelings. He cannot remove his gaze from butts.

He decided to take a scientific approach to this matter. Is it only human butts he finds appeal to? What if he is ill and views ANY butts as desirable? He set to investigate his hypothesis. Abobo visited a local supermarket, a building housing an array of butts. As he struggled to avert his gaze from human butts (a proven object of great interest), he made his way to the meat section. After viewing a selection of goods, he found no appeal to the chilled animal butts. He was making progress.

Eager to further evaluate his condition, he visited a farm to test his reaction to live animal butts. Cows, horses, chickens, pigs (almost), no adverse reaction. This was a bittersweet moment for Abobo. He now knew he preferred human butts, without a shred of doubt. However, his profession was fighting people! How can he make a living by fighting animals. As he seriously began to ponder that option, he decided to take drastic action.

It was the dead of night, and the neon jungle was fiercely alive. Abobo was about to attempt something that could either save him, or destroy him completely. He entered “Succulent”, a popular strip club well known for it’s premium repertoire of butts. The owner remembered Abobo from his prime, and invited him to the VIP section. Abobo was tense with fear. His idea was to become so overloaded with butts, that it exhausts his desire. He is promptly offered a drink, and denied it. Abobo required his full focus and attention to this scenario.

A personal selection of women entered the room, at the request of the owner. A song began to play, and the women began to dance. The light began to grow dim, the walls and floor of the room seemed to fade away. Abobo had transcended reality, entering some unknown plane of existence. Every shake, every curve, every slight motion, Abobo saw everything. Suddenly, a figure approached him.

It was himself, wearing a tight pair of boy shorts, sporting the most impressive butt he had ever seen. What is this madness?! He struggled to regain his composure, but was under the spell. Suddenly, Shadow Abobo spoke. “You have come far to reach this place. You strive to reach the depths of your subconscious for answers, but we do not trifle with the petty affairs of the mind. We find resolution with our fists.” With this, Abobo strikes Shadow Abobo with a fist of furious anger, shattering the illusion into dust.

As he returned to reality, he found his fist deeply imbedded into the butt of a stunned stripper. He removed it, and stared at the chasm. No reaction. No feeling other than pure rage. He then commenced the worst butt punching rampage the city had ever seen. His spirit of fighting was renewed. Abobo was cured.

© 2012-2013 Brett Wooley. All rights reserved. This article can be shared, as long as credit to the author is given. You cannot re-publish this article as your own.

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