Sunday, April 28, 2013

Weekly Prompt Story: Journal

Entry: May 1st.
By Christopher Munroe

We found a battered journal among the wreckage. It’s our first lead to date as to what may’ve happened to the seek/rescue-team sent out mid-February in the aftermath of the initial incident.

No survivors have been found to date, nor trace of the seek/rescue-team.

I’m pouring over the journal for potentially pertinent details while the rest of the response crew combs through the wreckage of the research lab in the hopes that some clue might be uncovered.

Personally, my hopes aren’t high. Still, I’ll give the journal a read…

“Entry: February 14th. We found a battered journal among the wreckage.”

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Hitting the Road

Sometimes you’ve just got to get away.

It might be work, or just the grind of your daily routine, but some part of you needs to mix things up, get out of your life a bit, take a break from what you know, from yourself, and when those times come you’ve got to hit the road, and damn the consequences.

Life’s too short to deny yourself its fullness, after all. When you need to get away, don’t think.

Just go.

Or sometimes, you’ve killed somebody and you know your fingerprints are everywhere.

Those times you have to get away too…

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Weekly Prompt Story: Number

By Christopher Munroe

One is the loneliest number, but it shouldn’t be. After appearing in a popular song, it could make some friends.

Hotels have no floor number thirteen, but they do have thirteenth floors. The one above the twelfth is the thirteenth no matter what you call it.

That’s how counting works.

When asked to choose a number between one and ten, I choose Pi.

Because I’m a smartass.

These are things I know about numbers, and they’re all true.

But, right now, the only important number is 100.

That’s the number I need.

The number I strive for.

There we go.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

My career in politics was not a long one...

You misunderstand, I know what our problems are AND I know how to fix them.

Everyone knows about the challenges we face, and in general they’re all solvable, with a little effort and a little shared sacrifice. It’s not a complex matter to get us back up and running. Wouldn’t take long either.

It’s just that I have absolutely no intention of doing any of the required things.

Because I don’t care. I don’t care because “our” problems aren’t OUR problems.

They’re yours. Or, more precisely, they’re your children’s.

I have no children of my own, so long term deficits don’t matter to me. Neither does global warming, the state of the education system or providing for the comfort of retirees fifty years from now. By fifty years from now I’ll be dead, and no generation will succeed me specifically, so from my point of view it’ll be a totally irrelevant point.

Why, then, plan for a future that neither my nonexistent offspring nor I will be around to enjoy? It’s somebody else’s problem, so let somebody else deal with it. My time, I think, would be better spent dealing with the problems of the present without the distraction of what tomorrow might bring.

To that end, I would like to suggest massive increases in spending, both economically stimulative and social, and an abolition of all forms of taxes effective immediately. This will provide for short-term economic growth, which, as I’ve already implied, is the only sort of economic growth I give a damn about. Similarly, I’d like to suggest the immediate abolition of regulation on our nation’s businesses, as the majority of regulation is meant to deal with the consequences of our actions, either for other people today or for future generations, while I’m more interested in the actions themselves.

I am, after all, a man of action. Consequences can be left for other days and weaker-willed men.

If elected, I promise that I will do what I can to help myself, today. And those of you who are in situations similar to mine will also benefit, if only peripherally. This is my promise to you and, if elected, I will keep this promise.

And as to those of you who’s circumstance is different from mine, or who do care about the future, let me say this: I do not, and will never care about your problems. Because they are not my problems, and I have absolutely no empathy for anyone different than myself.

Vote for me anyway.

My opponent feels the exact same way as I do, after all, and will behave in the exact same way once safely in office.

And I at least have enough respect for your intelligence to be honest and up front about it.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Weekly Prompt Story: Yes

By Christopher Munroe

It’s my negativity that’s dragging me down, and I’ll have no more of it!

Starting tomorrow I’ll approach each day with buoyant optimism. Where once I was negative, I’ll be positive, where once I was defeatist I’ll charge forward to face my challenges head on.

Yes, yes will be my battle-cry, yes! And I believe in my heart that with this new outlook there’s nothing I can’t do!

I’ll prove as much the moment my alarm goes off tomorrow.

Will I hit snooze? Yes!

Will I go back to sleep? Yes!!!

And by God, I won’t let anyone stop me!!!

Thursday, April 11, 2013

The Road

Nothing exists but the road beneath my feet.

I thought I was in a town yesterday, thought I met people and that they were kind to me. I thought I spent the night, drank their wine and brought news from all parts of the countryside.

But there’s no town that I can see, all I have is the memory.

And memory’s a fickle thing, a thing of light and shadow, quick to deceive. Only a fool would trust it.

Not like the road.

The road is real, beneath me. It has weight.

The rest is nothing more than a dream.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

Weekly Prompt Story: Carrot

The Appropriate Level of Seriousness With Which to Approach Dessert.
By Chris Munroe

Through the window he crashed, in a shower of glass.

He’d have been surprised, had he not been distracted by pain, both from the sudden roundhouse kick and equally sudden laceration of his face and arms from his quick, brutal journey into the street.

But I wasn’t done. I climbed through the now-empty window-frame, kicked him in the ribs, grabbed him by his hair and turned him around, to look him in the eye…

“Carrot cake,” I said, “isn’t real cake. It never will be. Also: I’m ready for the check, whenever you get the chance to print it up…”

Thursday, April 4, 2013

The Basement

Don’t go into the basement, whatever you do.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not haunted. I haven’t filled the freezer with corpses, nor have I converted it into some sort of twisted Nazi sex-dungeon, it’s a perfectly ordinary basement.

The light doesn’t really work, it kind of flickers on and off, and the stairs squeak, but other than that, it’s an unfinished basement like any other unfinished basement anywhere else in this neighborhood.

However: I will lock you in there if you go, and I don’t promise to let you out quickly. So, for your own good, don’t do it.