Friday’s Fiction: Part 1 [Warning Explicit Language]

  Why, oh why, did today have to happen? I haven’t a clue how I’m going to explain losing the car and losing Finn. I mean, I didn’t lose Finn per say, he got his head chopped off. Nice I know, but that’s how it will look on my record – which is tarnished enough as it is. Not mentioning the boot load of £50 notes that went up in a puff of a smoke.

  Once again I’m in Hell’s waiting room. I have been ‘summoned’ to this plush, wood-panelled room to await my fate on a designer chaise lounge. Beatrice the perfectly coiffed and preened receptionist is tapping away  on a keyboard with her acrylic nails. I would love to peel them off her fingers. Stupid receptionists, they always have a full view of the room, in her case, in front of the double doors that will consume me and possibly destroy my life.

  Shouting from behind those doors catches my attention, followed by the unmistakeable sound of smashing glass. Moments later they swing open spewing forth a slight, dark haired man with a noticeably wobbly gait and splintered glass embedded in the skin under his left eye.

  ” What are you staring at girl,” he snarls in my direction. I can’t help but giggle, which causes the man’s brow to pucker in anger. He affords me one last glare and stumbles to the exit. Clearly, he didn’t get the pay rise he wanted.

  “You can go through now,” I stand, my mood lightened by the ridiculous fool that came before me. All I did was lose property and a partner; that guy asked for a pay rise, and if all they’re doing for that is smashing faces through tables, I have nothing to worry about.

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Inspiration found.

  I have just had the biggest kick to write. It came from a video/post on my reader.

  This video included a form of music and style of song that doesn’t usually appeal to me; no matter the skill of the performer. However, this video blew me away as did the obvious talent of the singer herself. I originally followed her due to my interest in real life journeys and I have huge respect for people that are willing to chase their goals and dreams.

 

  I won’t tell you what I was inspired to write by seeing this video – it may not even be of any interest to you, my beautiful collection of followers – but I will share with you a link to the post and blog by this amazing singer by the name of Charlotte Hoather.

http://charlottehoatherblog.com/2013/08/07/danny-boy/http://charlottehoatherblog.com/

  I just think this post was mainly to show that inspiration comes from everywhere and that once in a while you should follow someone with big dreams or different interests to yourself. And if any of you happen to be in the area when Ms. Hoather has a concert, I recommend you attend!

-AR

 

#2.0

  “Left, go Left!” he shouted to the girls fleeing back. I hope she listens to me, god damn firebrand she is.
  Laboured breathing and a lopsided tread echoed up the alley behind him, they were starting to lag, good, if they could get over the walls they would at least have some extra time. The alley’s walls towered above him as he gritted his teeth for that extra push, his steps bouncing back at him so that it sounded like an entire legion was running through the streets. Glancing at his wrist he made the decision to cut through a different street, hopefully heading the girl off before she reached the walls herself. Cobbles gave way to dirt and the running became easier as he neared his goal. Where is she?
 
A flash of gold caught his attention, only one person had hair like that in the middle of the night – he had caught up to her. Calling ahead he gave her warning “Right and then left! Past the gallows,” relief flooded through him as he saw her do as he bid. Once last glance at his wrist, he powered forwards, passing under the shadow of the noose swinging in the wind. That awaits us both if we are caught. 
 
Catching up to her, he grabbed her in one smooth movement that covered her mouth and pulled down his sleeve. Her eyes were wide with terror and a flicker of white was his only warning before she sank her teeth into his palm. Sucking in a breath he spun her round and saw her visibly relax when she realised who it was.
  “I’m sorry, A girl can never be too careful” she murmured with a wink. He really did hate her sometimes.
  “Shut up and get over that damn wall.” rolling her eyes she began to climb, taking far to long to find footholds, just to infuriate him.
  He surreptitiously checked his wrist again, they needed to head due west to get to a safer destination.

  “Look your brand isn’t going to change, you don’t need to keep looking at it,” he jumped, he hadn’t realised she’d scaled the wall and was now watching him.
  “It’s not that,” he muttered. Really it was.

Friday’s Fiction: Intro [warning explicit language]

  Here we go, my serial fiction post starts here, we’ll see how long it lasts. As always you’re not under any obligation to stay, just the fact this post exists is enough for me.

  These post may be quite rough – I haven’t decided whether I’ll go with the flow or deliberately plan out what I’m going to write [this first post isn’t planned].

Enjoy, or not.

 

   Have you ever had one of those days where everything goes wrong? Today is one of those days.

  Unfortunately for me, today is also one of those days where things don’t just go wrong, they get fucked up entirely. Take my attendance for example – I manage to get to every single lecture, workshop and suicidal-thought inducing seminar and on the one laid back day where all I have to do is show my face, I miss it. My getaway car doesn’t just breakdown or run out of petrol; It explodes. My partner in crime doesn’t just take a knock to the head, he loses it.

  Clearly I’ve pissed off the powers that be, because today sucks.

 

Thought I’d keep it short and not-so-sweet for a first posting – maybe get yor brain juices flowing, let me know what you think, whether this raises any questions with you or if you think there’s anything I’ve mucked up.

– AR

#1

  Genetics.
  They fascinate me. Take now for example, my assistant is melting chromosomes in order to separate them; so we can choose which should be included under the cell culture hood.
The intricate positions of the gene loci and the delicate blend of parent DNA produces some interesting results.

  Looking around my bare, unadorned lab, I remember the real reason I’m here, not just to play at the cellular level, but to open the eyes of the religious nay-sayers. Those with faith that narrow minded and brainwashing that they do not believe in evolution, despite the astronomical fossil evidence. Those that destroyed my home and my life because they disagreed with my papers and speeches on evolution. I’ll show them all.

  A whimper from across the room breaks me out my monologue, a small porcelain hand reaches through the hatch in the corner. It infuriates me, “What have I told you about making a sound! Would you like me to teach you again? – the hand withdraws and a small sob carries across the room – Good! Stay quiet, you are no longer important,“.

  In my research, things sometimes go awry – sometimes it’s hard to see beyond the advances at a cellular and physical level; sometimes we forget about the mental and social needs of the creatures. Through that hatch, live my failures. Every day they remind me of what I have done wrong, and one day, they will pay for their very existence. However, for now they provide the motivation for these long days in the lab. A lab where I am God.

  “Ma’am, it’s ready in exam room three.” I look up, a smile creeping across my face, time to see what we have managed to control now.

  Entering exam room three I tread softly over to the table – where a small girl is waiting with her back to me. She has exquisite white-blonde hair that has never been cut and now falls well past her waist, cascading from the table. I know that when she turns to face me large, evenly spaced eyes, the colour of the sky in summer will drink me in. Some what starved of other company she has become rather attached to my assistant and I. I know all this because, I designed her.

  “Child, please lie down,” I indulge her neediness with a soft smile and she immediately does as she’s bid, a long sigh escaping her lips, as if my presence is somehow soothing. Idiotic Child. As she lays her head on the pillow, I begin my examination of her limbs – gently extending them and manipulating the joints – perfect. Next I test her reflexes, which are highly advanced for a child, and her response to pain stimuli such as extreme heat and cold. Bless the child, she never flinches or pulls away – that was the hardest part, cultivating a combination of high sensitivity, so that her senses remained functional, while also reducing the response to pain. The final part of my exam, testing her cell regeneration rate. I create a small nick in her finger, watch the blood flow, timing how long it takes to slow and stop entirely. It doesn’t, in fact it’s taking longer than a normal child her age – I know this because I personally tested all controls.

  She is flawed, another failure. I seethe with barely checked rage and grab the pillow from under her head, which smacks off the desk eliciting a small cry. I hold her head with one hand and place the pillow over her face with the other. Her eyes widen in recognition and fear.

  “Mama!” she cries, I hold the pillow over her face, while she thrashes her limbs, until she stills.

 Failure is not allowed.

The prompt: -Your story is set in an illegal human genetic experimentation lab, somewhere deep underground.

From: http://shrapneldoll.deviantart.com/art/Prompts-193833309

– AR

 

 

Prompts for a procrastinator

Hey guys (and girls), 

 
  I’ve been thinking about doing some prompts to keep me in the writing habit,  and is this a personal blog you don’t necessarily have to stick around, but I would appreciate some input! 
  And maybe a little bit of feedback? Just a tiny bit guys?
 
So I’d be grateful if anyone could recommend any prompt lists or challenges that’ll keep me busy. 
 
-AR