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Thread: Short Story

  1. #26
    Senior Member CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN has a reputation beyond repute CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN has a reputation beyond repute CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN has a reputation beyond repute CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN has a reputation beyond repute CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN has a reputation beyond repute CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN has a reputation beyond repute CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN has a reputation beyond repute CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN has a reputation beyond repute CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN has a reputation beyond repute CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN has a reputation beyond repute CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN has a reputation beyond repute CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN's Avatar
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    Default Re: Short Story

    Quote Originally Posted by OminousCloud View Post
    They can be from wherever you wish.


    Okay. Now that's just fudging awesome^^

    EKHEHEM! *begins typing*

    The door creaked open slowly to reveal a black silhouette at the door. Miku quickly stilled her position on the ground. "Honey, I'm ho--" Shion's sentence was cut off as he took a glance at his wife on the floor, who was covered in blood with a butcher knife sticking out of her back.

     
    He sighed and crouched next to his dead wife's carcass. "You overdid it on the blood again, Miku." He whispered into her ear with a chuckle, watching as the green-haired woman slowly blinked up at him.
     

    "Hmmph," She pouted, sitting upright. "But I even added detail this time!" Miku protested, wiggling her left arm, which was still connected to the note she'd written on the carpet in fake blood. Shion swiftly read it: Leeks.

    "Are you making leeks for dinner?" He replied, beginning to stand up. Miku nodded. "Then you make leeks while I clean up your murder scene." He instructed, going over to the closet and grabbing the vaccum, some different chemical sprays, and a towel.

    "Okay!~" Miku gushed, popping to her feet and skipping into the kitchen with the fake butcher knife still in a position to make it look like it was lodged into her back. Miku began stirring the boiling pot on the stove, which Shion assumed was filled with leeks.


    The next day Shion KAITO came home, the same thing happened. Miku was slumped against a wall with an arrow stuck through one side of her head. The day after that, she was dressed as a soldier from the army, sprawled across with the floor with a gun in hand and even official government logos - which Shion didn't want to know where she'd gotten those from. A little later in the week she was even dressed in a dead sunfish costume - which Shion considered closing the door on her for.


    On the last day of the week, Miku's death was much like the first. Scrawled across the floor in blood read the words: Bonito. Shion immediately sighed and laughed before lumbering over to the supply closet and grabbing a washcloth and spraying some more stain-removing chemicals on it. Miku opened her teal eyes and watched him as he grinned down at her and began cleaning up the blood on the floor.


    "Next time, watch the amount." He grumbled, taking note that she was just sitting there watching him clean.


    "Sorry," Miku said, scratching the back of her head with a chuckle - being sure to avoid the fake saws that appeared to be pushed through her head.


    "Are we having tataki of bonito for dinner?" Shion asked.


    "Yeah - it's on the table."


    Shion could never compliment her on her deaths or cooking, because then Miku would instantly get caught up in it. He wiped some sweat off his forehead as he finished up scrubbing and stood up to follow Miku to the dinnertable, where he sat down and began to get himself a plate of the samishi.


    Miku tried to start a conversation many times, but who can start a conversation when people are eating? Every time Shion replied she didn't, or vice versa, because they had food in their mouths. This lead to the complete awkward silence at the dinner table as they both ate, while Miku ate with three saws stuck through her matted hair and fake blood across her dress.


    Surely if somebody were to walk home and find their wife 'dead,' they would freak out. But to Shion it was normal. He wondered how his wife's deaths had gotten to be so regular to him as he attempted to think back to the first time it happened. She had had a bunch of fake knives pinning her to a wall... but what had moved her to do that?

    Back when Miku Hatsune and Shion KAITO had first met, they would drive outside everyday - aimlessly - during the sunset and sunrise. Sometimes they would drive up to a cliff and watch the red colours of the sky as the glowing ball of yellow that kept the world warm rose and sunk over at the horizon. Other times they would travel to the beach and watch the waves crash against the bay and sink their bare feet into the shore and watch the sky a little more. Miku always loved watching the sky - nighttime or daytime, or sunset or sunrise; even the painstakingly bright mixtures of colours the afternoon skies often had.

    He remembered that around the time the murder scenes she'd designed began his boss had given him a promotion for his job at work. The promotion required him to be gone most of the time, and it was a really fun job. Shion sighed. He'd been gone so much, he wondered if Miku missed him? Daring a side glance at his wife, they quickly locked eyes, and Miku began blushing. Shion rolled his eyes and smiled jokingly as he stuffed some more raw fish into his mouth.

    "Does the fish taste bad?" Miku asked hesitantly, staring at the table. Shion quickly looked up at her and shook his head.

    Maybe... maybe she really does just miss me. He thought, examining her saws and blood. All of her dresses had to be bloodstained by now - sometimes Shion wondered how his wife was able to go to the supermarket with no questions asked.

    ...And if she does just miss me, Shion continued to stay on his train of thought. Are her murder scenes just a way to show her love for me? He wondered, staring harder at Miku.

    "Are you sure?" Miku pressed. It took Shion a few moment to finally connect that she was still asking him if the bonito was bad.

    "Of course not!!~" Shion promised, waving his hands in front of his face and smiling with closed eyelids. "Why would you think I thought your marvelous cooking was bad?" He questioned, opening his eyes and raising an eyebrow.

    "Well, my cooking is sorta marvelous~" Miku agreed, looking upwards. Shion chuckled silently and scratched the back of his head. Here comes her lecture of how awesome she is at cooking... He thought in defeat.

    "I was actually asking because the man who sold me the sunfish costume gave me the fish used in the bonito for free. I wasn't sure if the fish was another costume or not, so I cooked it."


    Word count: 1017

    I said the leeks were boiling in a pot on a stove in the fifth paragraph. I'm not sure if that's the correct way to cook them or what, but my friend cooks her leeks that way (and everybody I've talked to says you need to cook leeks to eat them).
    Last edited by CoRRuPTioN GaRDeN; 08-22-2011 at 09:23 PM. Reason: My Post is being a baka TT^TT

    It's just a mainstream thing to have these eggs.


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  3. #27
    AF's Resident Furry Bulf has a reputation beyond repute Bulf has a reputation beyond repute Bulf has a reputation beyond repute Bulf has a reputation beyond repute Bulf has a reputation beyond repute Bulf has a reputation beyond repute Bulf has a reputation beyond repute Bulf has a reputation beyond repute Bulf has a reputation beyond repute Bulf has a reputation beyond repute Bulf has a reputation beyond repute Bulf's Avatar
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    Default Re: Short Story

    Ding, second try!


    The door creaked open slowly as Number 4 edged it open, hoping to find his target inside. With some luck, he would be the first to find them and get back to base early.

     
    The major had ordered them all to find and kill a target, so it was pretty much the same as always, the only difference this time was it was real, not a drill. The other problem was that their target was always a few steps ahead of them, so they always got there too late.

    This time however, as Number 4 looked through the crack in the door, he saw the silhouette of a figure sitting cross-legged in front of a few monitors; this was him. He took a deep breath and slowly made his way inside, trying not to make any noise. There were bonus points awarded for stealth. Carefully making his way in the room silently, he was halfway across the room when his target turned around, meeting his eyes with a look of surprise.
    Neither of them moved for a few seconds, surprised at what was happening, and then the target made a dive for his stunner. Number 4 kicked the stunner away, and then pulled out his own weapon, a standard issued blaster, ready to get this mission over with. It hadn’t even been a challenge, and with the speed he had completed it in, he’d probably rank up as well.
    Aiming the weapon at the target’s head, he was about to pull the trigger when they looked up and he got a clear view of their face. It was a woman, or rather a young girl. She looked to be about eighteen or nineteen with long dark brown hair and a set of mysterious purple eyes. Her face was distorted by a look of complete fear, and Number 4 found it harder to pull the trigger than he thought it would have been. She looked oddly familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he’d seen her.

    He lowered his weapon a little and stared at her through his cyber-visor, nicknamed a Saiver. A minute passed where neither moved, she was too afraid of what was about to happen, and he was lost in her face and the memories that it brought up. Finally she spoke in a soft voice.

    “Please, don’t”.

    Then it hit him, he realized why she looked so familiar. There was a child a One of Number 4’s first missions that had the same expression as her, however this one was a boy. The boy hadn’t been any older than sixteen, but they were ordered to kill him all the same. It was Number 4 who found him, but he wasn’t able to pull the trigger. The boy sobbed and pleaded not to kill him, and he wasn’t going to; there was no real threat here, the military just wanted someone to blame for the events of the revolution. He was about to let him go, when Number 31 delivered a shot to the boy’s head that killed him instantly. Number 4’s Saiver was splattered with blood and whatnot, and the memory was forever etched into his brain as a reminder of why they fought.

    As he looked into her eyes, he made the decision; there wasn’t any need to kill her. And if he didn’t let her go now, someone else would. So, he placed his blaster back into its holster, and sighed loudly.

    “Just…just go”. He said, taking her by surprise.

    For a moment she looked stunned, then without saying a word, turned around and grabbed something from the cluttered desk behind her. “Thank you”, she said. “If we meet again, I promise I’ll repay you back.” Then she slipped out the door behind him silently, and vanished from sight.

    Number 4 sat for a while and thought about what he’d just done. He was lost in thought somewhere between her beautiful face and the consequences he’d pay if someone found out when a whistle caught his attention. Looking up, he found himself looking at Number 31’s cyber-suit. Although he couldn’t see his face through his Saiver, he could tell he was wearing a smug expression.

    “What?” Number 4 asked irritably. He never liked Number 31.

    “I was just wondering…”he began to pace around the room, pretending to be interested in stuff he didn’t know about.

    “Wondering what?” Number 4 asked, not really caring what the answer was.

    “Oh nothing. Just thinking about what the Commander is coming to say when he finds out you let a target slip right out of here.”

    Number 4’s heart skipped a beat. How had he known? “I don’t know what you’re talking about” he said. Number 4 was used to lying; it was a very valuable skill in the army and he was good at it. “Are you just jealous that you didn’t get to her first?”

    “Oh, so it was a she then?” said a voice everyone knew only too well. The form of Commander Gan emerged from the shadows of the door, taking Number 4 by surprise. The fact that Number 31 hadn’t jumped meant that he was in on the whole thing.

    Cursing himself and his slip-up, Number 4 stood up slowly and began eying the room for a way out. There was absolutely no way this would end well. Commander Gan had given out death sentences for small, trivial things. A betrayal would probably earn him a good torture session, and then he’d be killed. Before he could say anything however, the commander had already strode behind him and pressed the manual deactivation button on his suit.

    It was painful being deactivated, but it didn’t bother Number 4 at the moment. He realized that they’d just kill him here and avoid a trial, say he was killed on a mission. So as he lowered his head and Number 31 walked up behind him with his blaster out, his Saiver suddenly came back on. And It had four words on it: Ten Seconds, Close Eyes.

    He understood it perfectly and as the timer began to count down, he readied himself to run for his life, because turning back surely meant death.


    Word count: 1025

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  5. #28
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    Default Re: Short Story

    The door creaked open slowly… and that single sound triggered it. That noise. That dreadful noise! An unimaginable lament sounded, like nails scratching against glass, echoing inside my head like an endlessly ringing bell. I doubled over in agony, grasping my head with both hands, cupping my ears desperately. Warm blood oozed out of my ear canal, staining my hands red. I fell to the ground, screaming and writhing in pain. My legs shot out and my chest heaved in and out, as I breathed laboriously.

     
    Unrelenting, it stalks me. The piercing noise reverberates inside my ear eternally. Randomly, the chaos will ensue, whether I am eating at a restaurant, taking a shower, or sleeping, the anarchy follows me. The only trigger is a single noise, any sound at all in the world: a bird cheeping, a teakettle going off, an airplane flying high in the sky. From time to time, I try to escape, leaving my current location as quickly as feasible, moving as far away as I possibly can. However, to no avail, the haunting source of the monstrosity finds me each time. The very same noise that I have heard for the last twenty-three years of my life continues to wreak havoc within my brain.

    How I long to hear the beauty that is silence. I have nearly forgotten the origin of the word. For now, the noise has faded antecedently, though I know it remains, humming mockingly at the back of my mind. It clouds my judgment, sends me off track, and distracts me from my day. I am never without the tragic, unimaginable noise. I have discontinued all connections with the outside world. I do not interact with other human beings as my actions and accusations are too substantial for the public to comprehend. I have seen specialists, and none tell me that there is something wrong. But, I can feel it. The wretched ringing inside my ears. I feel it! There is definitely something wrong!

    I stumbled to my feet, blood still dripping out of my ears, making small puddles on the wooden floorboards below me. Sauntering forward, I jerked open the front door, walking quickly, then faster. I began running, sprinting, to find an endeavor from this piercing howl. The scenery around me changed quickly: a mediocre neighborhood, a long road, a small hallway. The sounds of cars were muted due to the despicable noise still humming. A bridge far from the ground below tempted me. It called my name. Suddenly the noise intensified, bringing me to all fours once more. Without a second thought, without a mere hesitation, I leapt to the railing of the bridge, and jumped down.


    Word count: 447.
    Last edited by Earth; 09-19-2011 at 07:42 PM.

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