Speed Writing 2/4/2017

prompts: The Prodigy, The Doctor, Destruction

They wanted the perfect child… Evelyn swore if she was going to go through the whole primal experience of birth, she’d be goddamned if she’d put up with that for less than perfection.
Ed… well, whatever Ed thought, he kept to himself, courtesy of a long exposure to Evelyn.
So, with the help of some geneticists, who had a pretty good idea what they were doing, and some absolute quacks, who talked a good game, and a metric butt-ton of money, they got little Amber.
She was speaking at six months, complete sentences by nine months, reading a month later.
Graduated high school at twelve, had two PhD’s by the time she was sixteen.
There was no stopping her insatiable curiosity, and backed by her family’s money, she went wherever that curiosity took her.
Amber proved the existence of alternate dimensions when she was barely twenty.
Traveled between them a year later.
Discovered the Elder Gods when she was 22. Three months later, they followed her back to our universe, resulting in its chaotic destruction.
She was barely 23 when her insatiable curiosity destroyed everything.


prompt: Delusion, Pain, Alliance

It’s quiet here… you wouldn’t think that of an asylum, but the nurses sedate anyone who makes a fuss, and the neanderthal orderlies enthusiastically help.
So, quiet. I mumble to myself a lot, but I keep my voice to a whisper, so Nurse Clapham doesn’t use the big needle again. Clapham’s the most sadistic of the lot, and has been known to perform spinal taps as a form of punishment.
State oversight of this place is a joke. The current inspector gets paid off in sex with his choice of the patients. The one before him, Mr. Hobson, I think, couldn’t be bribed… but his brake lines could be cut. Probably Vanner did it, a real gorilla of an orderly.
Vanner licks Nurse Clapham’s naughty place most nights.
I’d rather stick my tongue in a meat grinder.
I try making friends, but with old-fashioned shock treatments, and the odd lobotomy here and there, people don’t stay themselves very long, so what’s the point?
Wednesday night!
Mystery Meat Surprise! If it isn’t rat, it’s a surprise.
Maybe we’ll get jello!


prompts: Harmony, The Wolf, Strength

There are nights to just let it all out, and howl at the moon…
This is one of those… nothing on my schedule, the fiancee is busy, just me, some guys from work, and Mr. Jose Cuervo.
They want Scaryoke, and after a few shots, I agree. What the hell – Jose and I can do a duet!
We’re all on stage, mangling the Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil”, when my phone chirps at me… the chirp I’ve selected for texts from my fiancee.
Then it hits me. It’s Thursday, not Friday.
Working hungover tomorrow? Not a problem, done it plenty of times.
Missing dinner with my fiancee Valerie, and her parents?
Moments later I’m flagging down a cab.
“The Montclair! For the love of my ball sac, hurry!”
Cabbie looks at me strangely, but steps on it.
Formal attire, de rigueur.
I’m in my work clothes, reeking of tequila, with a fresh nacho stain on my shirt.
“Hi honey, Mr. and Mrs. Compton… sorry I’m late…”
Valerie’s giving me that look – the assassin look.
Her parents’ opinion of me is confirmed. I’m shit to be scraped off their shoe.


prompts: Denial, Health, Law

When we were kids, we specialized in ‘dumb shit’. If you listened to our parents, they’d swear not a day went by without us excelling at our specialty.
Bottle rocket fights? Check. Kenny fuck near burned two fingers off.
BB gun wars? Check. Took a week for the swelling around Alan’s eye to go down.
Jumping our bikes down at the gravel pit? Check. I walked funny for a week after I flipped, and tried to drive a handlebar up my butt.
Annoying the neighbors? Check. Baseballs through windows several times a month.
Mucking about places we shouldn’t? Check. Cops brought us home so many times we knew them all by name.
We paid for our indiscretions. Spanked butts, broken limbs, cuts and scrapes and the infections that sometimes went with them, glasses repaired with electrical tape, teeth knocked out… parent-teacher conferences.
We were just kids, and kids live forever… nothing was too high a price to pay for following a bad idea to its logical outcome.
The worried expressions on our parents’ faces just made we young immortals laugh.


prompts: The Leech, Ignorance, The Assassin

He had learned to read. He tried to  hide it, but the Bureau puts written signs up, with hidden cameras to catch the reactions of those who see, and understand.
He was good, but we’re better. It’s what we do.
No telling if he’d passed the skill on to his family, so I overrode the locks on their home, and set it on fire.
The loss of two proles, and their child… unfortunate, but necessary.
When I started with the Bureau, I used to feel guilty about such things. But one outbreak of literacy, printed pamphlets preaching insurrection, cured me of that guilt.
We had to cordon off three square miles of tenements, and burn the lot of them.
Desperate times, and all that.
Getting rid of books was easy. The rise of electronic media did most of the work for us, albeit slowly. Making ebooks disappear merely required killing the entire internet. Easy.
Now, education by cartoon, and simple stories from the highly redacted and rewritten Holy Word of the Commerce God.
Blessed are the wealthy, righteous is their every whim.
Tomorrow I’m to chase down a writer who’s been preaching an end to the theocracy.


listening to: the whir of my desk fan
mood: pretty mellow

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