Choosing Between Worse and Worse

A stomachache or an ache to the head? Which would you chose? Ah, it doesn't matter what you choose because I'd take them both for you and you'll never have to pick, because, honey, dinner's on me, and it's only fair I spare you any trouble. You're my guest, after all. Oh, don't look at me like that, darling, of course I'm sure. Ha ha! I'll be fine! You're only ever so delicate and soft, and you're in a military uniform, heck, who in the world like that can handle the menu? Ha ha! Don't make fun of me! Why, dearest, why would you want to leave? You're my prisoner, after all, in this mansion. You can't leave. I need you to bring the dogs home for me, you're the only one who's good at it, and I'm terrible with animals. Oh yes. Ha ha! Me, mad, no! But that aside, would you rather then have a heartbreak or a heartache? Oh really? You can't stomach that? Figures. I'd very much rather get the dogs in, and they can eat much more than you can. You're weak. It makes me wish you'd stop yelling at your mother at home. Huh? Yeah, yeah I've seen it all darling. She's old, and she loves you, but you hit her once or twice in the face because she told you not to go so and so with so and so. Figures, you're crazy. Ha ha! Oh no, no I'm not making fun of you! Quite the contrary. But now's not the time for that, your mother wished for me to teach you discipline, and you will learn those lessons. Penny, call the dogs in, we'll give him a taste of him own yellin', that's for sure. Brace yourself, it's gonna be loud. Whoo! Ha ha! Yes, yes I'm crazy, me! Sorry kiddo, but you should have picked the headache from the start, because then you wouldn't be in this mess.

Self-Control

We believe in keeping ourselves to ourselves
And our thoughts to ourselves
And our feelings to ourselves
And our love of ourselves and our hate to ourselves
And if we feel pain or spite
We keep ourselves to ourselves because we are soldiers
And soldiers never ever complain and cry and bawl
We don't have to
Honestly nobody cares and we don't care ourselves
It's a nice thing to be selfish, though it's a sin 
A sin and ten sins, but we are still soldiers
Mostly people cry for attention
so much so that you'd wish they'd shut up
It isn't right, and we will never be caught in that mistake
We believe in keeping ourselves to ourselves after all
Self control is almost non-existent in the digital world
The simple solution is to destroy it all 
Because we believe in keeping ourselves to ourselves, see?
Nah, they're blind.
Scormy, follow in there with your unit Son, we ain't got no time!

Miss, Sir

She stood near a soldier at the train station, and while they were waiting for the train, they talked. For one the station wasn't particularly busy, and there weren't too many people, and the train they were boarding in particular had a stop to her street, and a stop to his barracks. So they talked.
"Windy day, isn't it, madam?" he grasped the hem of his cap.
"Yes, sir, that it is." she held onto the edge of her sun hat.
"I like windy days. They're usually quiet and the bullets miss your cheek."
"Maybe. I like them too. It looks nice when leaves fall down the road. You like autumn, don't you sir?"
"That I do, madam, miss."
"Sir, mister, monsieur." she bowed.
"Ma'am, mademoiselle, miss." he bowed.
"Nice meeting you, man."
"Likewise, woman."
"Tsk tsk, that's miss to you."
"And that's sir to you, I serve your country."
"And I, sir, grow your food."
"Farmer's daughter, are you?"
"Mhm."
"Well," he said as the train approached, "Thank you for keeping us alive, miss."
"And thank you too for keeping us alive, sir."
They both boarded and left the station, while orange and red autumn leaves rustled in the wind, lonely at the platform.

Insane Buddies - Black and White

It was one lone chair and one lone man. Beams of sunlight gently dotted his cheeks and he blinked his dull brown eyes. Why can't you listen to me? I sat in the other chair, the one across from him, in the dark corner. Why can't you listen to me, I wanted to ask. But he never listened. Just the intense staring. Why can't you listen to me, and you can't even speak for yourself! You don't know, you have your little green blackboard up and your chalks up and your own life up there hanging on that ceiling, somewhere. What a crazy man, why can't you listen to me? I know what's best, and after all, I really do. You just tape things to the ceiling mindlessly and then smear them with fingerpaint. Like a child. Man, why don't you just listen to me? We both stood up. We had to keep our heads, and I started taping things to the ceiling too. I taped myself and my hair and my nose. The man taped himself up along next to me and we waited. Footsteps, but there was no door. They couldn't possibly barge in on us, we had no door and the floor was red and blue, gray and yellow and green with paint. He painted a sunflower and I painted a cop car with a siren. I painted a raven and he painted a robin. I painted a fire and he painted a heaven. I painted black guns and he painted the face of my depression. I painted a raincloud and he painted the shape of my sins forgiven. Right. I'd known that. Yet he never listened to me. His little green blackboard and chalks. His little paints and doors and windows. It made me laugh, maybe. It made me cry. The footsteps finally came and the door finally opened and they finally took him away from the asylum and I was left alone with myself and myself and myself. Maybe it made me laugh, and maybe, maybe it made me cry. They always took the bright ones away; and he never listened to me.

The Poisoning of the Memories

He cocked his head slightly towards the noise. It wasn't really far as he could tell, but he couldn't see anything, even though he tried to look over the masses of heads. The ringing of bells was always in the background, as was the drums and the beat-music, booming from every vendor's pushcart. And every cart was selling something different, and it was midnight, all the sights and smells in the carnival were enough to create hallucinations or make you sick at this time of night. "Darling," the woman at his elbow said, nuzzling into his forearm, "Darling what are you thinking about?"
Her husband hadn't heard. He was captured by the noise, trying to listen. It was getting fainter. He strained his ears. "Darling?" the woman looked up at him, "Is anything wrong?"
There was a tight frown on the man's face, and colors flashed all over his face because of the fire, the changing disco lights, the balloons, the dizzying hues...
"Honey?" She shook his arm.
"Yes?"
"Is anything wrong?"
"No... I'm..." He walked with her at his elbow to a gap between two circus tents. He peered into the darkness. The grass was blueish and faded into black as the colors blurred further away from the heat of the carnival. He debated with himself whether or not to go through the gap. It was off-limits, sure, but the sound? The sound was coming from through there, and if he did not catch up to it, it would disappear completely and he would never know why it captivated him so deeply. His heart cried, tears coating his ribs.
"I've heard this before," he said to his wife, almost sadly, "I'm sure I've heard it before somewhere, but I can't remember for the life of me."
The woman frowned. She twisted her long blonde hair with her left hand, while still hanging on to her partner with her right, red lipstick crooked. She scowled. "Oh honey, I'm sure it's nothing. It's probably just Kyle - look there he is!" she turned her husband's head towards the singer on the stage, singing some cheesy love song. The man shook his head. "No... it's, it's something else, I'm sure! It's through there," he pointed through the gap. "I need to go see it."
"You can't," said his wife, "Can't you read the no trespassing sign? The circus people said we can't go there. Hey, let's go get a coke or something, aren't you thirsty after all that walking?"
The man pulled his arm away from his wife and stepped into the gap, almost being squeezed by the tents because they were too close. There was a small dim blue light far into the darkness beyond the canvases, and the tents seemed to never end. But he had to get to that sound!
"Honey!" The woman exclaimed, "Get back here this minute! Right now!"
He was halfway there, going in sideways so the tents won't squeeze him, and he heard it. He heard a sentence, but he could not recall what it was the second after it faded from his ears. What was it that voice said? A small blue glowing tiger swiped at his face, going through it, and a small blue woman screamed, her robes ruffling in imaginary wind as she reached for her little blue son, who was snatched by another woman, but this one was yellow. The little yellow woman ran with the child and put him on a couch, lowering to one knee and embracing the little boy, and he turned yellow too.
The man's eyes widened at the illusions before him, and he could almost repeat the sentence he had heard. "Don't let her drown you in--"
Suddenly, he was pulled out of the dark little hole, and back into the light.
"Are you alright darling?" His wife asked, her hand on his shoulders and he was on the ground, "You passed out."
The man blinked twice, surprised. Then, with the help of his wife, he stood up.
"What happened?" she asked, touching his face, worried. He held his head. It hurt and it throbbed really bad. He felt nauseous, he felt like he was going to throw up, he felt like he was going to faint again. "What happened?" he echoed after his wife.
There they were in the middle of the carnival, with the changing lights, the music, the drums, the beats, Kyle's cheesy love song. It was all still there. He looked towards the tents and they have closed, too tight for anyone to fit and there was no gap between them anymore. Wasn't it just...?
"Honey, you seem ill," the woman said, tugging on his arm, "let's go home, let's go. I'll drive you home. Goodness, you look sick!"
The husband didn't protest, he allowed himself to be led to the parking lot, all the while something rang in his pounding head. Wasn't there something he'd forgotten...? Wasn't there...
That thought, too, disappeared and his mind was totally blank. The woman settled him into the passenger seat and took the wheel of their little yellow car. She started the engine, with a stern troubled look all the while. She looked to her husband. He had fainted again. "Why those--!" She stopped talking before she allowed herself to become too angry. The woman breathed deeply and closed her eyes for a second, then pulled out of the parking lot. She looked towards the man in the passenger seat, out cold. Then she narrowed her eyes and looked towards the road. Well she had this much trouble getting him, no way was she ever going to let them take him back! "It seems that the poison didn't kill all your memories, darling," she put her hand on his chilly one and took the ramp to the highway.

The Boot

The candlelights were dim and I slammed my hands on the table. He looked up from his drink. There was a tense moment of silence as I glared into his eyes. He, of course, would think that I was amusing. He didn't know me, and I was only sent here by word. He could not even be the man I was looking for.
The entire inn went silent and stared. Even the walls and the glasses and the plates stared. People wore such crazy looks, I would have laughed if the matter wasn't so serious.
"You're the mountain guide?" I said simply.
The man cocked an eyebrow and held up his drink. "Mountain guide? Whatever do you mean?" His face was scarred and scruffy and he looked like he's been to a lot places. He took a swig. There were a few scattered chuckles as the inn slowly lost interest and resumed its chatter. The man leaned back and put his boots on the table rudely. "Move your hands and get your own table. Go on now."
I scowled and pulled off one of his boots, startling him. "No. You are the mountain guide! They told me you had such a crude sense of humor. It must be you."
"I don't know what you're talking about," He lowered his legs and threatened to stand up. "You give me back my boot, or I'll kick you with the other one."
"With your socks?" I said with a scoff. "No thanks, they looks stinky. I'd rather we come to a deal instead. I'll give you your boot if you talk to me."
He narrowed his eyes. "So that's how it is, eh?" The man set down his mug and stood up. "Over here."
We stepped outside away from the lights and the music and rounded the wall to end up behind the inn. It was a particularly dark night, and there was a powerful breeze. I wasn't afraid of the man, however. Although maybe I should have been. Strands of hair blew into his face as he faced me. "Now, please, the boot." By that time my eyes had adjusted and I smirked. "No. Business first, then I'll give you that boot."
"You do realize I came here with one foot in socks, right? C'mon. Give me a break."
"Well, you seemed to be having a break all week, drinking away your earnings."
"It's how I go. Don't judge me. I'm sure we all have places to be and things to do right now."
"Fair enough." I concluded and scratched the tip of my nose. "So, you are the mountain guide, are you not?"
"That depends on your definition of the mountain guide." He said simply.
"I need to get up into the mountains. My sister was taken by bandits and I must find her. I hear there are ogres in the alps."
"Sure, sure. Many ogres in the alps. How much are you willing to pay?"
"As much as necessary. My sister is... priceless to me."
The man chuckled. "And here I am abandoning my own family years ago. I like you, kid. Very noble."
"So you'll help me?"
"Aye. They don't call me the thug of the mountains for nothing. I'll need a down payment though."
I reached into my cloak and pulled out a sack of gold. They were new, polished, and even gleamed in the darkness.
"Ah!" The man was clearly interested. "This much... yes, I could do with this much." He put out his hand.
"Not so fast," I said. "tomorrow we set out, I'll pay you then. I don't want you spending perfectly good money on your drinks."
"Ah. That's how it is then... Alright, fair enough kiddo. I'll be spending it on drinks later anyway, but just to please my new employer, alright."
"So we're settled?"
"We're settled." He starts to head back around the building, but I stopped him by tugging on his sleeve and smiling.
"Your boot."

Adam and Eve (excerpt test)

Ava slumped on her bed. The storm outside was raging, and the crew were working hard to keep the ship steady and on course. She was soaked and definitely a mess, but she was also tired from pulling on the ropes and shouting orders and helping her men and bailing water from the ship almost all at the same time. Yes, she was exhausted. Ava closed her eyes and let out a sigh, leaning as far back into her pillow as possible. Suddenly, she felt something shocking cold at her throat and her eyelids flew open. There was a man standing right over her, the tip of his knife focused on her throat and his expression angry. The prisoner! How did he escape the lower levels? At his sight Ava sat up. He kept the knife fixed and followed her movement, without a word. "Oh, it's you." she smiled, "I wonder why you came here."
"I'm getting revenge." he simply said, "You tried to drown me!"
"Do you blame me for feeling accomplished when I dip my prisoners into the sea for a few minutes?" Ava asked coolly, sinking her head back into the pillow again. "Sure, kill me. What good will it do to you? The crew will find you, and they don't care about me, for your information. It's every boy for himself."
At that the man grinded his teeth. She was getting on his nerves. He stung her throat harder. "As long as I take revenge on you, I don't care what happens to me. You made me feel the lowest I ever had, and you almost drowned me."
"Alright. That's nice. Nice story." Ava said with a bored tone. "I told you, if you kill me it won't help. Do it, but be quick. I've got an important meeting once we reach shore, and we're almost there."
Before the man could think about what to do next, Ava attacked his arm and kicked him hard in the stomach at the same time. This threw him off balance, and she was over him within seconds, pinning both his hands together. "You call yourself a Navy Captain?" she said with a scoff. "You're unbelievably weak!"
"Rrgh!" The man tried to struggle, but she had him in an iron grip. Ava shook her head mockingly, pressing the back of the prisoner's head into the floor, hard. "Son, let me tell you the story of Adam and Eve."
He didn't know how that story would relate to this situation, nor why she was mentioning it at all other than to mock him, but he knew he couldn't just sit there. If she wasn't too clever, he might have used brute strength. But she had all his vital points in check. Too bad for him. Ava smiled.
"It all began when God created the first man, Adam."
What followed was a heavy crash and Ava stood up afterwards, her favorite vase broken and her prisoner's head bleeding. He wasn't moving.
She scowled and whispered: "And then Adam died because he blamed Eve for what the devil did."