Writing Dump

Short Story Collection 1

Short Story One

Static. The uncomfortable static buzzing of a television. It's loud and eerie in the same way something can be deafening but silent all at once. Constantly in the background, constantly there. It shifts and shapes forming demons only you can truly fathom. Loneliness, Betrayal, Trust, Love, you create all those feelings and you build them all up until they're too high for you to reach. Their hateful glares stare down upon yourself as you struggle to catch up with their expectations, but the expectations only get higher and higher until they're impossible to reach. Until they're impossible to get rid of. Until they're sneering, insulting, and hurting you with their words as sharp as knives.

Loneliness, it sharply swarms around the boy as he walks the crowded halls. He's surrounded by people but left alone with his thoughts. Betrayal blankets another coldly, suffocating and relieving all at once. Trust and Love, are nowhere to be seen. They can't exist as long as these demons are alive, they can't be welcomed. Love cannot be trusted and Trust cannot be loved, all the same. All the while, the static plays on repeat in their heads. A twitch of their hands, a shuffle of a foot, the flicker of an eye, and the turn of a head. The demons crash down on them in repetitive waves, forcing more and more upon them. Until you can't keep your head above the water any longer, you don't want to. You're burdened by any and all demons you imagine up, Anger, Depression, Fear, and their queen, Paranoia. She watches from above, disfigured and marred, but breathtakingly beautiful. Paranoia is with you when you finally lull yourself to sleep, singing the lullaby, and she's with you when you think your only company is Loneliness. She's hiding but in plain sight. You drag yourself away from her, only to find you gravitate towards her. Its when she hisses in your ear or prods at your hair you understand. She's here because of you and because of herself. The queen wants you, and it's comforting in its own deranged way. You find yourself wanting Paranoia to love you more, wanting them all to love you. You yearn to get the attention you've been craving for so long, to feel as though someone wants you around. But, how? You stumble upstairs, carpet pushing against your feet, cold and stiff. The bathroom's where you'll go. That has everything you'd need. You nod with understanding, they're all with you. You can see it in the flicker of light and the swaying of a door. The whisper in your ear and the shuffle of footsteps.

You stare at the plug, it's across the room. If you pull it, the static will stop and the T.V will turn off. It'll be quiet for once, the familiar echo of evergoing static gone. You begin to crawl forward on sore hands, the cuts crissing and crossing your aching arms. The static grows louder with every inch, every flinch. You wait for something to jump out, something to attack. You tense as you reach for the plug, something was outlined in the static of the T.V. A vague figure, a feminine figure. It was her. She didn't want you to pull the plug, of course, she didn't. Maybe... maybe you shouldn't pull it. If you did, you'd lose them. Paranoia and her friends wouldn't hover around you anymore. You don't want to be alone- so maybe you shouldn't pull it. Stop it! A faraway part of you screams, just pull it! Don't think about it! The same voice echoes desperately. Don't pull it, don't pull it chants another voice, it's volume slowly rising. A deafening war is erupting in your head. Pull it! No! You idiot don't! Please just do it! No! You begin to rock, hugging your knees to your chest as if they could protect you, but you know they can't. The voices and screaming at each other in an endless argument before turning on you. They call you ugly, useless, a disgrace, stupid, anything that comes to mind. They hate you for creating them and they hate you for being alive, and they hate you for trying to kill them. You reach a shaky hand forward slowly but quickly all at once, feeling your hand wrap around the cold plug. Your breath is irregular and shaky, the voices have quieted to a wisp of a hush, all but drowned out by the static. But then, they begin to shriek once more, cursing and insulting. They claw at your mind and rip at your emotions. And then, it all goes silent. The static is no longer there, and in the final blink of your eyes, you see the plug. It lays limply on the grey carpet, its dark colors contrasting the foggy grey walls. And then, you see her. She's fading away, shrieking and clawing at you. You've killed her, you've killed the queen, your queen. And finally, you allow your eyes to flutter shut and cool darkness to overtake you.

Your limp body lays on the cold bathroom tile, fingers closed around an unseen object, an object only you could see. Your eyes are closed, and you're curled up, just slightly. You're unresponsive when your mother walks in, and you still don't respond when she screams your name. You've yet to respond when you're taken to the hospital and still, haven't responded when they pronounce you dead. You're gone, but Paranoia is too, and Depression, and Loneliness, and Betrayal. They can't hurt you anymore, they can't. Their host is gone, but they'll find another one, all the same. And despite all of this, Love and Trust survived. They glow softly, hues of pale yellow and blue. They hug you and whisper softly in your ear, and for the last time, you let your eyes shut. You let your eyes close with Love and Trust swaying softly with your now limp body. You're not to open your eyes again, not to move again, and lastly, not to be haunted any longer. 

Short Story Two(more of a ramble)

Perhaps we are due to live in a world without light. Perhaps it's one of the barriers we have yet to overcome, or maybe, it's a barrier we have already overcome. Maybe we are due to live in a world without light, the unthinkable. What would it be like to have something we take so easily for granted, taken away. Of course, without sunlight, plants would no doubt die off, as would animals, and then we would. But what if artificial light was engineered to have the same effects as sunlight? Would we be able to survive? More importantly, would we be able to create it soon enough? Chaos would likely ensue the loss of sunlight, widespread panic. Then, a likely depression would settle over the world, a sense of giving up and a sense of extreme helplessness. Of not being able to do anything, of having to watch your planet and everything around you slowly die. A feeling of having to watch your family and your friends starve slowly. How many colors would be lost without light? Would the world become grey and dull, would no one care to see colors anymore as they would represent nothing but a hollow shell of what our world used to be? Perhaps the world would be seen in a new light, a reason to change. Although unlikely, such a dystopian future could be the only way to change our crumbling society. The only way to change could be to lose something so significant, no one could ignore it, or cover it up, or forget about it. Maybe such a feat is impossible, as we might have gone through such a phase before. A phase so horrific that no one dared to speak of it out of fear of the same event occurring once more. Maybe it hasn't been spoken of due to threats from those higher above, maybe they don't want you to mention it to anyone. Perhaps if it was mentioned, or we were warned in advanced, it wouldn't have the same effect. Society would have time to prepare, to ready themselves for such a chaotic event. They would assume it would end in a year or two, and not have any motive to change. They wouldn't care if warned in advanced, only such a sudden change without warning could strike such fear and need to change.

Short Story Three

The cold metal of the table and the metallic scent of blood so strong one could almost taste it. Pale bodies were laid on three of four silver tables, eyes wide open. Their fingers were curled in the slightest, as if grabbing for something just out of reach. Out of the three bodies, ragged breaths only came from one. The other two however had crimson stains surrounding the limp figures and glazed over eyes. There were several different cuts in all three bodies, though. Medical equipment was slung throughout the small room, IV poles knocked over without a care. The loud, ragged breathing of the third body was becoming shallower and shallower by the second. The life was ebbing out of his body quickly in the form of dark crimson blood, so dark it could almost be considered black. The eerie silence of the room could be considered nightmarish. Gallows would have been less haunting than the room itself, in all honesty. And suddenly, a faint whispering was heard from nowhere yet everywhere in the room.

"Tie me up and crucify."

"Nail my hands and crucify."

"Bind my eyes and crucify."

"Nail my feet and crucify." Hummed several voices in a siren-like chorus, each singing a different line on a seemingly endless loop. Yet, as the odd lines were sung, none of the three bodies moved. The only sign of something live being within the room were the constant ripples sent across the once still puddles of crimson fluids. The ripples ran across the span of the small pools, quivering as if they were unsure. The fourth table, empty as it seemed, was smeared with a crimson fluid much thinner and lighter than blood. It was a bright red, about the consistency of water.

As a heads up, short stories will be put in collects of three or one based on length. Thanks for reading so far.