physics-defying-off-kiltered-stack-of-books building

My aunt lived in a weird building. Weird building, like books incorrectly stacked. Books stacked off centred that should fall over but doesn’t because of … physics. Physics lied to you in that building. I don’t like it when physics lies. It shouldn’t lie to you because physics is physics. It’s how the world works. Should work. Does work. Is working. 

So I threw up. Standing on the sidewalk, looking up at books-scacked-off-centered-physics-defying building. Looking up, then looking down and heaving. 

I didn’t like it.

When I finished, I stood up straight and tried to convince myself that the building wasn’t going to fall over onto me. Or worse. A little more breathing and I’ll be fine. Just a bit more. That’s it. Maybe 15 minutes more. Breathing for 15 minutes.

“Can we go already?” A voice interrupts me. I look over. And up slightly. Because my sister is taller than me, even when she is not wearing her ridicous high heels. I see the building out of the corner of my eye. And try not to retch again. Try not to throw up. Because I do not like the taste.

But I’m looking down again. And emptying my already empty stomach. And emptying my previous stomach.

“God, you are embarrassing. You and your fucking disease.” I overhear my sister say. Over my vomiting. Loudly, her talking that is. Loud enough that you could walk by us and still hear what she was saying over the noisy traffic without straining. But perhaps not loud enough to snap you from the revery that is my aunt’s physics-defying-off-kiltered-stack-of-books building.

“It’s not a disease-“ I start to tell her, still bent over, in case my stomach decides to rebel again.

“I don’t give a shit. I just want to go in and find out what auntie left for me, if anything.” She cuts me off. I could hear her rolling her eyes. Rolling them so much that she might sprain those muscles that keep it in place.

idea from: http://redd.it/1m9m2d

This is messed up

The world as we know it ceased to exist at 8:34. Or at least that's what it appeared to be. There doesn't seem to be anyone here that will tell me. Anyone friendly, that is. Because there does seem to be people, shooting at me every once in a while. couldn't tell you why, on account of waking up with no memory of what happened.

 All I remember is my childhood. The last thing I remember is my 8th birthday. Then I woke up. In the hospital. With a wristband around my wrist. Ray Parks. Admitted Sept. 4, 2014.

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Cut Me Up Inside

"I can't see you anymore." She was standing in my doorway, dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a leather jacket. 

"What are you talking about?" I asked, after clearing away the lump in my throat.

"I can't see you anymore. You keep hurting me." She looked to her left as she spoke these words. I stick my head out of the door to try and see what she's looking at. Nothing. She starts to turn away. I reach out and grab her by the wrist and pull her back towards me.

"What's that's supposed to mean?" I ask. She's close enough to kiss. Her other hand comes up slowly and as she pulls away, I see that she's already activated her ability. Small sparks of electricity jump around between her fingers.

"Let go." She says, dangerously low. I don't need to know what she will do if I don't. I ignore that anyways, knowing the consequences.

"Seriously, what is that supposed to mean? 'You keep hurting me.' We both know that you can do more damage to me than I can to you." I continue, keeping my volume as low as her warning was.

Soul Sucker

Have you ever seen a demon? No? What about a vampire? No? I bet you've never heard about this sort of supernatural creatures as well. I mean in credible newspapers and the like. Movies and books and podcasts don't count. I'm talking about real life. Like how in real life, if I were to punch you in the face it would hurt alot. You'd probably die. Die painfully. But if you were reading one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books and "you" got punched, it wouldn't hurt, would it? Unless you walked in front of a speeding bus with failing brakes while reading that line. Then it would hurt.

Well, I have. I've seen more than I care or want to count. Demons and vampires and everything else in between. Yes, that's right, they really do exist in real life. Although their characteristics are fictional. Like the fact that vampires burn in the daylight. They don't. There's one walking by right now. He looks so human, doesn't he? What? You want me to kill him right here? Yea, that will go down well the the authorities. No, I'm not going to be killing him here.

What, you want to know why I'm telling you this? Because I think this time I might actually die. So, I'm telling you this for shits and giggles. Even though I'll get in so much trouble. That and, if there will be a successor to what I do, I guess you'll have a step up from hearing me ramble. It'll be like pseudo-experience.

How will I die? Soul sucker, for lack of a better name.

Labyrinth Riddle Twist

I have a friend that professionally runs ultras. Ultras are ultra marathons, for those of you not savy enough to know. Meaning that they are races that have a longer distance than your run of the mill marathons. If you think it's crazy to run several hours in an urban environment, then try running for serveral days, in the some of the world's most extreme environments (ie the desert). Add to that the 60 or so pounds you have to carry around with you (food, water, tent ect.). People that run ultras are insanely passionate about running. That said I hate running. Absolutely hate it. But I have been running for days, mind you, no pack of food and stuff, but still for days. Something had been chasing me around this maze for days on end. So you could imagine how happy I was when I read the first line of the note that was tacked to a tree stump.

"Congrats. You've made it to the end." I wanted to scream and jump around, but my feet were so shredded and my head was spinning so badly that I thought I was going to black out and whack my head on the stump. I continued to read.

"One final test before you can leave though. There are two guards. One of them will always lie to you X times before telling you one truth. The other will always tell you the truth Y times before telling you a lie. And you have anywhere between 10-30 minutes before one of the gets piss off at you for asking tricky questions and stabs you."

I look up to see the exit guarded by two guys with mohawks and multiple piercings. They both hold long serrated blades.

Oh, frak.

Author's Note: Rob likes to run ultras, if you wanted to know more about a person that runs ultra marathons.

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Whispered Night

"Kill!" A voice hissed in my ear. It wasn't human, the voice. It wasn't human. I squeezed my eyes shut. I clapped my hands over my ear.

"Go away!" I whispered. I was so scared. But mommy and daddy didn't understand it, so I stopped calling out to them. It felt like I was losing control. Something was creeping into me.

"Kill!" The same voice again. I whimpered. The voice chuckled. It sounded like 2 really really bad people talking at the same time. Saying the same words.

"Go away. Leave me alone." I was crying. Then suddenly I felt very cold on the inside.

"Don't worry, Leanne. It will be over soon." The voice was in my head now. I screamed. I tried to scream. But nothing came out. My body got out of bed and went downstairs. "Leanne, your parents deserve to die. Your daddy for taking your mommy away from me, and your mommy from leaving my side. Some promises you don't break no matter what. And because she broke the promise, I'll break you."

My hands pulled a chair over to the counter. It made my body climb up on it. My hand grabbed the largest knife.

"Upstairs we go." The voice sang in my head. "Die, daddy, die. Die, mommy, die."

Author's Note: Do you think I need therapy?

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Sister

I stared at the girl before me. Her face, which was blackened by dirt was now streaked with tears. I could see her pale skin in the tear steaks. She was shaking all over. It was from withdrawal. I looked away from her, disgusted.

"Please, I just need more money. It'll be the last one I ever buy." She grabbed my arm. I pushed her off me.

"I don't know you." I told her, rubbing the spot on my arm where she had grabbed me.

"Please, Morgan." Her voice was muffled by her hands. I could tell she was crying more.

"I said, I don't know you."

"But I'm your sister." She continued to beg. I look at her long and hard.

"I don't have a sister. Now fuck off before I call the police." I slammed the door in her face.

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Panic Button, Among Other Things

"The panic button alarm is an amusing sound," my mother was squaking on the other end of the line. "If you like nails on a chalk board." She continued. "If you like to eat stringy cheese." My mother hated that stuff. I never bothered to find out why. "Like that kidnapper that kidnapped those three kids, he must think that that the panic button alarm is an amusing sound." Honestly I wouldn't know. I don't even know what sound she was refering to. That and I had only kidnapped 1. I don't know who kidnapped the other two, but it ain't me.

"Yes, he must, Ma. I have to go to work now." I told my mother, then hung up the phone without waiting for her to answer me. I turned it off and ripped the battery out. That way, they couldn't trace the residual signal. I might've been a hick, but I ain't stupid, or nothing like that. I turned to the sack before me. The kid inside it was whimpering and wriggling around. I hated that kid.

I turned my attention to the crates. On top of it sat my laptop, open. I made sure that the correct audio files were opened then I called the kid's parents.

IV of Caffeine

Every once in a while, I wonder if I'm actually insane. But in this moment, I'm not wondering that. I'm already suffering from withdrawal symptoms. A headache that won't go away. Parker, my pet pig follows me silently. Since the event, everyone started bringing their dog with them everywhere, among other essential items; such as phone, and a weapon. I stumble up a large pile of rocks. Parker grunts and looks at the rocks before him. With my free hand, I rub my face. I forgot briefly, while I was thinking about dogs, how pigs can't make it up such pile of rocks. I hop down beside Parker, which startles him, and he lets out a quiet squeal.

I look back at the rocks and wonder how badly I need my caffeine. Am I willing to risk my life and Parker's life for it? Not yet. While I am willing to risk my life for it, I'm not willing to risk Parker's life for it. Which means that I'll have to find a way around the pile of rocks. With a pistol in one hand, and Parker in another, there was no way I was going to be able to scale the small crumbled concrete mountain before us. That and the headache that was threatening to rip my body in half. I grit my teeth and rub my temples. Parker nudges his snout against my leg.

"I'm ok." I tell him, still rubbing my temple. He flicks his ears, as if to say, "Yea, and I'm really Jesus Christ reborn." That's why I have a pig and not a dog. Pigs are smarter than dogs, and much easier to communicate with. I straighten up and stepover Parker. "Come on." I tell him. "I need to meet my dealer. I need my IV of caffeine"