Watch the World End With Me - contd. Yasmin Nowlan
"I think I would like to be alone." You say. Not a surprising answer, by any means, but I'll admit when I said I would like to see my friends I also meant you. "Go to a roof somewhere, with a blanket and sound-canceling headphones." "Sounds nice," I respond. We both take a moment to sit in silence. There have been more of those lately, those silences. When we first started talking it felt like I couldn't get enough air for all I wanted to say, but now things have slowed down a bit. Not that our calls have gotten any shorter. Yesterday we spoke for five hours, and we're getting close to the seven-hour mark today. The quiet is comfortable, though. "If all of my friends," I begin softly, selfishly, "had other places they would rather be, if they were all alright... I think I would like that too. To be alone." "I have an extra pair of sound-canceling headphones," You say. I see it in those hazy ways dreams are remembered. Me, tired as I always am and never used to be, climbing up to an abandoned rooftop. Who would notice who first? Maybe we would see each other at the same time, although you might be a little easier to spot. I would greet you with a smile. "Although we would have to sit back to back, I don't want you to see me cry." I laugh, "You've already cried on call with me. How different would it be in person?" "It just would be. Take it or leave it." Of course, I would take it. "We would watch the world end together," I say. "Not bad at all."
Untitled - contd. Logan, Thomas, Rowen
LIAM: Cool, see you. DOC: I shall go set up the train you are to almost be run over by. Lab, get this poor kidnapee a hero posthaste! *DOC walks off stage staring at the script* DOC(under his breath): Oh, so you shovel the coal into the engine, I see. LAB: Alright, I really can’t think of any better way to do this than Tinder. We’ll find you a white knight over the internet. LIAM: Epic. *DATING START starts* *LAB uses phone for a bit* LAB: Name? LIAM: Liam. LAB: Age? LIAM: 24. LAB: Hobbies? LIAM: Sitting in cages. LAB: For real? LIAM: I know, I really struck gold. LAB: Whatever rattles your bars. LAB: Wait… *DATING FIGHT starts* LAB: DOCTOR FELONY HAS A TINDER ACCOUNT!!! LIAM: Oh my gosh! You’re totally into that guy, aren’t you!? LAB: Obviously! I’m not actually getting hours for this! LIAM: Well you know what you have to do, right? LAB: No, what? LIAM: You have to get on Tinder, pretend to be coming to save me, fight DOCTOR FELONY in dramatic, disguised combat, and have him fall in love with you through the art of the sword! LAB: Like all those weirdly sexually tense fights in the movies? LIAM: Exactly like those. *DOC Fel enters* DOC: Does anyone know how to set up a train? The instructions are in Swedish. What the hell is a tåg? LAB: Well, uhh, we don’t know, cause we weren’t… doing anything at all… and we know nothing and we don’t, uhhh… DOC: Alright enough! Go learn Swedish and report back to me. LIAM: Hey DOC! We found a hero! DOC: Really? Good work! Have him here at 7:00pm tomorrow! *LAB gulps* LAB: W-will do! *Both walks off stage, LAB drops coat on the floor where he is destined to die* *Liam waits a second and holds up a sign reading ‘7:00pm the next day’* *DOC walks in laughing evilly* *DOC breaks character near-immediately* DOC: How was that, was that menacing, was that scary, was it good? LIAM: It was great. You’re gonna scare the pants off this guy. DOC: Thank you, bird. I’m giving you a good score on Rate My Kidnappee. LIAM: Incredible. *Bergentrusrfdbe starts* DOC: Ohhhh my gosh the theme is playing! He’s here! Bird, get ready for the most interesting thing that will ever happen to you! LIAM: Yup. DOC: My mustache is perfect, right?! Tell me it’s perfect! LAB! Where are you!? *Asgore starts playing* LAB(disguised): Ah! I’m here! Fight me villain! And I must say! Your mustache is looking perfect! What do you style it with- DOC: Take this! *DOC shoots him* *LAB slow-mo falls onto his coat and puts it on instinctively* *The music stops* DOC: Hah! Hahah! I did it, I killed the hero! LAB, where did you go!? LAB where are you… *DOC spots ‘the hero’ in the coat, An ending plays* DOC: L-LAB? LAB:Ye-yessir. DOC: What is this charade!? LAB: I thought, you could fall in love with me… DOC: Huh? LAB: That maybe, we could finally be more than master and mastee. DOC:B-but. LAB: I guess it didn’t work after all. DOC: But LAB, no, Mister Misdemeanor! I loved you all along! LAB: You did!? That’s really sweet but very inconvenient for me, currently! DOC: Just know, in death, you had my heart. LAB: Aww. *LAB dies* DOC: Noooooooooooo! Liam! How could this have happened? LIAM: I’m so sorry DOC. DOC: In the end, love was the greatest villain of them all. *Liam steps out of the cage and comforts him* *They mourn in silence* THE END
Egotistical Hysteria - contd. Li Awad
Ugh. If I have to put on a show for these fools, so be it. “Hello to all you boring I mean umm lesser people. You seem to be quite curious as to why I just so happened to kill this family or whatever they are but first, we must talk about ME and how FABULOUS I am. Although, not exactly as fabulous as my normal self in this ugly orange jumpsuit. This country seriously needs to invest in better-” The judge began hitting his tiny hammer on some wood again and he said, “Defendant. The court has no time for this. Can you get to the point?” “Jeez, chill out man. I’ll get to it but really. This government is really quite tasteless. Now I may have ‘accidentally’ plunged my knife into three people but life happens and to blame little old me would be absolutely crazy. Like I said before, I am perfection and am the pinnacle of ALL there ever has been on this space rock-” “I don’t need to hear this today. It’s a Friday and this trial has gone on all day and it seems pretty clear to me the defendant has no care for this trial. As the jury has decided, the defendant, umm Mockingbird Galactica, is sentenced to three life sentences with no bail or chance for parole. Thank you, jury, for your service today. The court is adjourned.” Well, that went faster than I thought and honestly it’s a relief. Now I can get out of here and go back to my perfect little life! I just don’t understand why the lawyer beside me looks upset…
Untitled - contd. Ella MacDonald
They continue on their walk through the forest, the silence loud between them, Max glides along in the air next to her. His body glowing and letting off a strong force of light, illuminating the forest around them. After a few moments of quiet, the crunch of the snow alerts them of someone ahead, a dog first appears, running over to Abigail and looking up at her, its tail wagging. Then, a few moments later, a man, seemingly taking his dog for their nighttime walk. He whistles and calls for his dog to get away from Abigail. “Hi there!” The man said cheerfully, looking from Abigail to the shining figure of Max, “Wow…” The man utters under his breath, then, after a few seconds of staring, the moment is broken when his dog starts to whine, and the man and his dog continue on their way through the forest. Time passes as the sound of the man and his dog walking away drifts into nothing. “Abigail… ” Max starts to say. He stops and turns to face her. “Max, I don’t want to hear it, its too much, don’t make me do this right now.” She cuts him off. “Abigail! Please!” Max raises his voice, suddenly angry. “I’ve been dead a month and you still won’t let me leave this world!” Abigail stops walking and looks at him. “You need to let me go!” His voice is pleading, his hands clenched into fists with frustration, eyes watery with tears. “I can’t keep gliding around this world like a person, when I’m not a person! I’m dead, and you need to let me go to actually be dead!” “Max! No! I can’t!” Abigail shouts back at him. “Max...you’re all I have left,” Her voice suddenly softer now, she looks up at him, big tears running down her cheeks, rosy from the cold air. “Mum, Dad, they’re both gone, and then you… We were supposed to be old when we saw eachother die Max, but I’m barely an adult.” Max’s face softens, he looks at his sister. “I know, Abigail, I know its hard for you, but its not easy for me either, but I have to leave you too. And, think about it, I’m not really your brother, I can’t be your real brother when I’m like this. I know its hard for you, but we can’t ever be the same as we were before. What will everyone who knew me think?” Abigail is quiet, she sniffles slightly and looks at her brother. Max steps over, closer to Abigail. “Abigail, I love you, and you know I’ll miss you, but please.” He reaches out his hand to hers. She looks at it, and stares at it for a moment, before placing her hand in his. “I love you too Max,” Abigail says, through her tears. “I just, I’m going to miss you so much.” “I know, I know.” Max whispers. Abigail’s face is blotchy with tears, she sniffles hard. “Okay,” She stutters, “I think I’m ready,” Abigail grips Max’s harder, the warmth of it filling her body. “Ok, I’m ready too.” Max takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Abigail takes a deep breath too, the forest was still and silent, snow beginning to fall gently around them. Abigail shuts her eyes tight, tears still falling fast down her cheeks She whispers quietly under her breath. “Okay,” silence follows, Abigail’s eyes still shut tight. Then, after a few moments, a loud pop, then a swoosh echos around the forest. Silence. When Abigail opens her eyes, the forest is empty, except for a faint glimmer of gold light fading into the pitch black.
The Exorcist - contd. Jack Philippe
Once I knew this newfound foe was a legitimate threat, I had no choice but to call an old friend from the Harrowing Mount Everest wars of 2020, 2022, 2025, 2030 and 1995. I knew she had dealt with something similar to this before. She quickly shipped the weapon she used to get rid of it, all the time ago. It was still in pristine condition. I awaited my foe quietly in the kitchen, weapon in hand. I was only there for three and a half minutes when I spotted it, the motion sensor camera going off. It sped into the room, making that damned noise. I stood in place like a statue, waiting for it to calm down. Soon enough, it finally did, staying in place about two feet from me. I prepared myself, focusing my breathing as my army sergeant taught me all those years ago. Then, with grace, I swung the weapon in my hand as I leapt forward, instantly killing the creature. I pulled the weapon back and inspected where my foe was. Nothing but guts and blood now. I stepped back and took a look at the weapon. Along the grip, it read “Flyswatter 2000”. To be honest, I didn’t care what it was called. I was just happy to be rid of that formidable foe. For all I knew, it was a demon and I just exorcized it from my home. Just another thing to add to my sizable resume.
I MARRIED A GHOST?!?! (emotional) (gone wrong) - contd. Abigail McGhie
“Well now you’re just being hurtful.” Amelia pouts, crossing her arms like a child. “Why can’t we just pick up? I’m back. You’ve got me back, James. Why can’t you be happy?” “I’m trying to move on! I have moved on! It wasn’t easy, what with my dead wife haunting me, but I’m doing good. I’m finally doing good.” She blushes, smiling slightly. “You noticed?” “I was married to you for ten years. I know when you’re around. Hell, you folded my face cloths last week. I didn’t even know I still had face cloths.” James says. Amy was always the one who bought the necessary things. When they’d met, the only real things in James’ possession were a pot, a spoon, and some bedsheets. When they’d moved in together, as a thank you for all the kitchen equipment, he’d taught her how to cook. “Why didn’t you come see me earlier?” “I don’t know. I guess- No. It’s stupid. I know you haven’t.” “You know I haven’t what?” “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.” “Yes it does. I deserve this explanation.” “Come on, James. Drop it, please.” “That doesn’t work on me anymore.” She sighs. “I wanted to make sure you hadn’t… fully moved on. Before I came back.” James blinks. “Oh.” “I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you had, but-” “I have.” “Oh.” The two of them sit in silence for a moment, the life they’d shared crumbling onto the blankets between them, getting tangled in the sheets like cracker crumbs. “You should go, Amy. I’m sorry.” James says, his voice low. “I want to stay. Tell me who it is.” Amy replies, her hands gripping the baseboard of the bed. “Amy…” “James.” “It’s just going to hurt you.” “What, is it a secret?” She asks, trying to sound playful. “No. I just know you.” “It’s been five years. Maybe you don’t anymore.” James smiles sadly. “Maybe you don’t know me either.” “You’re right.” She murmurs. “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay.” “I thought you were never coming back.” “Me too.” “You died.” “I’m painfully aware.” “It’s been five years.” “I know. I guess I can’t stop you from living your life forever.” Amy lets go of the baseboard and steps back towards the door. “Yeah. I’m… I’ll go.” “Okay.” “You’re not going to try to stop me?” “No.”
Untitled - contd. Wesley Massey
He set his sights to the sky, its brightness blinding, causing tears to spring forth from his eyes. Well, he guessed, it appears this is it. Not much more to do now, except close his eyes and take his last breath. But how should it be done? Would a shiver supply a much needed flare to his exit? No, it would be too dramatic. It was best to cut it off plainly. Perhaps a moan would be alright? Yes, a moan never hurt anyone. That was it, he was ready. He braced his body amidst shudders, anxious to be done, opening his mouth wide for a last great gulp of air before— “How are you doing?” —he was rudely interrupted, his swallow stumbling into a cough, which certainly wouldn’t do as a final breath. Now he had to start all over again. “How are you doing?” the voice repeated. It was a wilting tone, as though uncertain of its own words or perhaps if they were the correct ones to use. Hearing it was like being expected to hold a hot coffee, with the promise that if it was held onto just a little longer, it would cool down and be ready to drink. But damn was that coffee ever boiling in the day’s heat. Patch. Of course Patch had survived. What’s more, he had found his way over to where Grey was trying to peacefully die. “Why are you speaking to me in that tone?” Grey said, not bothering to turn his head to look. “What tone?” Patch asked. “You’re whining, you shouldn’t whine when you speak. No one can understand you when you whine.” “I’m not whining!” Patch whined. “I just wanted to ask how you’re doing.” “Yeah, well that’s none of your business, is it? Besides, you’d just make things worse. I mean look what you’ve already done!” “I told you not to lift it.” “Oh, so now it’s my fault that you’re weak? That you couldn’t keep yourself from dropping it? Trying to pin all your problems on others won’t get you anywhere in life, Patch, except here. It’s insecurity, is what it is.” “What? What are you trying to say?” Grey straightened his back to the tune of a sucking pop in his ribs. “I’m saying I’m fine.” From where he sat, Grey felt Patch slip and fall into him. “Oh I—” “Get a hold of yourself, Patch.” "Well, I am holding myself. No, wait a moment. Is this yours?” Grey’s gaze was set in front of him and he had no time to look back at whatever would greet him in Patch’s face. “Quit touching my bones, now. I don’t need you infecting them or whatever.” Patch’s fingers prodded at the femur basking in the dry air. “Should I be pushing this back in?” “You should be getting your grubby mitts off my damn bones, is what you should be doing. These things heal themselves.” “These things?” “All things,” Grey waved a dismissive hand. “Didn’t you see the game last night? Home team was down five to one but these things just work out as long as you’re sticking with it.” “Oh, and did you see that breakaway that new guy had? I swear it, he could really make it big some time.” “Ah, the young ones always have potential, but you never see ‘em make much of themselves half the time. They’re always too wrapped up in themselves, nowadays, I tell you. Wasn’t like that when we were young.” “Not in the slightest. If I had talked about myself for too long at the dinner table my folks would make sure I’d shut up. And I wasn’t prone to forgetting.” “Yep. And that’s why you shouldn’t be dwelling and daddling on things or something. I think that was what we were talking about. Anyway, how’s the wife?” “Oh, dead.” “Tends to happen with wives, you know. My old grandad used to say that they were good for three things: cooking, cleaning, and dying. Yes sir. I think he might’ve burned the house down after getting fired.” A phlegm of blood spurted from his mouth onto the sidewalk. It was getting harder to keep his eyelids from closing, they were becoming a hefty weight on his face. “It’s been hard,” Patch said. “I guess I was just sort of used to having her around.” “Well, there’ll be more of them, Patch. No use lingering and making a big fuss out of it. No one likes to see a grown man making a fuss.” “Yeah, you’re right. How’s your wife?” “Fine.” Patch didn’t fill the forthcoming silence, as if waiting for more to be said. What did he want? Grey hated the silence, it demanded things of him like a needy child crying to be fed. Without thinking, he shifted uncomfortably, deciding Patch was too close to him and his legs wailed with a crack and squelch. How lovely, now they both were aware of his body’s horrible sounds. Is this what Patch wanted? But no one said a thing, just stewing in the echo of his body’s failure. Grey wanted to run from it, to hear the sound of footsteps falling upon the sidewalk, to hear any sound but this. And it pained him to admit, but with a tear through his chest he knew that his days of running were over. They were whisked away in the summer wind. Grey opened his eyes once more, looking across the street, still making the effort not to glimpse Patch. The man, making past the two soon-to-be corpses at a brisk pace, caught Grey’s eye immediately. From his side of the road, he strutted in such a way which revealed a desire to leave these parts as soon as possible. It wasn’t unusual to see businessmen with briefcases and suits in rushes like this one. Most likely, he was late for a meeting or there was an emergency at the office. “Uh oh,” Grey said, the words slipping from his mouth. “What?” Patch asked. “There’s a man on the other side of the—” “A man?” “Yes, but— I mean we shouldn’t—” “Hey!” Patch yelled. “Hey!” The man, Grey saw, increased his speed, transforming into a light power walk. “Patch,” Grey said. “Stop it!” “Hey! Over here, we’re dying—” Grey had no need to see Patch when he punched him across the face. He felt his fist connect and crunch, heard him hit the ground, and that was enough. When he pulled his hand back, it was sticky and wet. Now the man, without undignifying himself by risking a tear in his suit, modified into a bit of a sprint, soon to be too far to hear Patch’s wails. Patch groaned. “Why?” “You were embarrassing yourself,” Grey said. “Is he coming? Is he on his way over?” “No, Patch. He wasn’t even looking at us.” “What? What do you mean?” “He’s gone, Patch. He didn’t want to see us.” “What? But surely he had to!” Grey felt him shift back into a seating position. “Grey, did you see him look back at us?” “I saw you yelling, is what I saw.” “He just kept walking? Why’d you stop me? He would have…” “Couldn’t you see for yourself?” Patch, once again, left the silence bare. The air between them was thick with warmth. The stench of blood rising to greet the eager embrace of his nostrils. Reluctantly, Grey shifted his body to see what greeted him in Patch’s face. The familiarity of his friend’s old face had been wiped clean in a pulpy mess. One eye was sealed shut and the other was empty. Hair clumped in tangled knots, mashed into a bruised and dented forehead. Of course, his legs were broken too, so he leaned against the same wall, looking as though his last breath was drawing near. What Grey saw in Patch’s face was nothing much at all. “Oh, Patch,” Grey said. “What?” Patch said. “What is it?” “Didn’t you know we weren’t going to live forever?” “I did,” he shrugged. “But it was nice pretending.”