“Uh, like, I didn’t hate him for four hundred years.” I said.

“Oh, yeah,” Justin said, looking up from my boobs. “I just meant, like, it’s been a long time.”

“Well, yeah, he existed a long time ago, but I haven’t hated him all four hundred years. At most I could hate him for, like, nineteen years.” I said.

“Right, right, my bad.” This time Justin lingered on my boobs an extra few seconds.

“Anyway,” I said. “It makes me sad to learn about, the way women were treated in the past.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He said, practically drooling. “Forsure, super upsetting. I agree.”

“It’s just so frustrating, knowing how many people still agree with this shit.” I said.

“Yeah,” He said. “Gross.”

Silence passed for a time.

“So, uh,” He said, eyes glued to my boobs. “You maybe wanna see a movie later tonight?”

“I’m okay, busy tonight, I’d be down to another night, though.” I said.

“Oh, no worries.” He said.

After another bout of silence he began getting up.

“Well,” He said. “I don’t wanna keep you… see you in class.”

He put on his jacket and left.

Josh barreled through the ring of onlookers.

“No one touch the scene!” Josh shushed everyone. “Okay, first, we need to take witness accounts.”

“Josh, please.” Josh’s wife was tugging his jacket sleeve.

“Stop, Maggie!” He shooed her away. “I just finished binging Dexter! First, we ask witnesses what they saw. So, what did you ladies and gentlemen see?”

Josh was regarded as though he had sprouted another head.

The only witness, the detective’s wife, was comatose. She stared before her, unblinking, not stirring even when prodded.

“Ma’am?” Josh snapped his fingers in front of her. “Ma’am, I have some questions.”

She did not respond.

“Lady?” Josh said.

No reply.

“Woman, I’m speaking to you!” He practically yelled.

“Josh, please, come on.” Maggie had his arm again.

“Stop, Maggie!” Josh shoved her, hard.

Maggie tripped over her own feet, falling hard on the tile floor.

“Oh,” Josh said, as he noticed the room turn to regard him with disgust. “No, that was just a mistake, right, Maggie?”

Maggie was the deepest crimson. She stared at the floor.

“Yes.” She said.

“Now, are you ready, ma’am?” Josh turned back to the detective’s woman.

She again did not reply.

It took considerable effort to not express anger.

“Okay,” Josh said, gritting his teeth. “Step two, then, until you’re ready. And, of course, take your time. Not like this is time sensitive, or anything.”

His voice dripped sarcasm.

“Anyway, next, we must call the police.” Josh skipped off to get a phone.

“Shhh!”

“You go!” She giggled.

“No, you!” And she shoved the flowers into her friend’s hands.

“Um, good day, sir,” She said shyly, approaching the hero. “This is for you.”

She presented a shabby bouquet of wild flowers, wrapped with a length of cord. She blushed bright crimson as the young man regarded her.

“Thank you, my lady,” The lad said, delicately sniffing the flowers. “These are lovely.”

The boy took out a choice flower and placed it behind his ear.

“Would you and your friends care to join me, for a little?” He asked.

They joined.

“So, what are you doing later today?” One girl asked.

“Oh,” he said. “Today I am resting. Tonight, I set off.”

“No!“

“Awh.”

“Pooh!”

“Now, now, girls.” He held up his hands. “I’m sorry, we knew this day would come.”

“But, sir,” Another girl spoke. “You can’t leave us.”

“Yes,” The flower giver said. “You can’t leave! We need you! What will come of this little grotto?”

“I am sorry, my darlings,” He said, and he truly was. He had deflowered half of the present young women. “But, there is another grotto. There are more that need saving.”

The lad grew uncomfortable at their protestations and feigned tiredness. He moved on to nap.

“We can’t allow this, girls.” The flower giver whispered.

“No,” They agreed.

They hatched their plan with rapidity.

The young adventuring lad awoke to find his wrist shackled to his bed, his weapons all stolen, and a food bowl and water bowl provided within arms reach.

And life went on, much the same.

Krueger rapidly unrolled his shirt sleeves, covering his shitty stick-and-poke swastika tattoos.

Jorge put on a mask and began coughing, hiding his teardrop tattoos.

“What say we heroes go out for a brewski?” Captain Man said.

“Are you sure, sir?” Sergeant Woman said; their hero organization was still sexist, I realized in that moment.

It struck me with the same rapidity as, when I was a child, I realized how sexist Catholicism, which I was a part of, was. I didn’t really think about how women couldn’t be deacons, or priests, or bishop, or cardinals, or the pope.

I looked at Sergeant Woman with pity, wishing I could ask her into our gang, from which no sexist vibes exit. Yet, sadly, my pro-woman, nonsexist organization does not accept woman; for their own protection, of course.

We hire them for more menial labor, such as cleaning or catering and the like.

Regardless of that tangent, Sergeant Woman had just asked Captain Man if he was sure about brewskis.

“Of course I am sure!” Captain Man declared. “What say you, boys?”

My peers and I awkwardly agreed. We appreciate free brews. We appreciate praise.

I encouraged my boys to order the most expensive fair possible, after which we snuck out the bathroom windows.

dang I really missed an opportunity for glory there

"Hey!"

"Oh," The doctor looked over. "Sorry."

"That's, like, not cool. Like, I need to speak to someone, to like, complain."

"I'm sorry." The doctor repeated. "I was shooting for some levity."

"Levity?!" The patient's daughter asked. "Did you think that was funny, mom?"

Mom's chest raised and lowered ever so slowly as the breathing machine worked.

"She wouldn't have thought that was funny." The daughter said.

"I'm sorry, really. Long day." The doctor said awkwardly. "I can go get one of my colleagues..."

"No," she said. "Let's get on with it."

The doctor inserted the syringe silently this time.

Her mother passed peacefully.

“Look, Morty, slow ramp. The slow ramp really gets their dicks hard, as they stand there watching this slooow ramp.”

Other alien lets down ramp not nearly as slow.

“Too fast.” Rick coughs.

The Scene

My first time taking shrooms I spent a long time pondering "happening"

“John, aren’t you gonna defuse that?”

“Relax, man, we have a minute. You know, the audience? They love this shit. Really gets their dicks wet, as they watch the number slowly drip down to zero.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

“Really, man. I’ve seen it. They love watching the number slowly go down, and then, when it’s single digit, at highest, you defuse it. They love it, when it changes color from red to green, with .01 second left. Really lets them cream themselves.”

“Okay, boss, I agree.” Clyde didn’t like how boss was making it sexual.

“Really, Clyde. I’ve seen people make out to scenes like that. I’ve seen women in theatres start blowing during those scenes. That’s what I want to contribute to, you know? I want to be part of something bigger than-“

The bomb exploded, killing everyone.

March 12, 2023

I’m thankful that I’m breathing

I’m thankful for the can of beans I found last night

I miss John, first and foremost. I miss him so much. I feel intense, heaving shame that I could not save him. I run through that day a million times, wanting so badly to replay it. I could save a few moments of time a million ways, and then I could have saved him.

Anyway, I need to go make the rounds soon.

Keep positive, Steve, until tomorrow.

March 13, 2023

I’m thankful to still be breathing

I’m thankful to have had one of John’s arms to bury; the manual labor was nice

Well, time to think of some words to say. Yesterday was the worst day of my life. I can’t do this without John. I need him. I need help. I need someone. I can’t keep writing to you, journal.

On top of that, a have a gnawing, intense itch on my back, which I can’t look at. I assume it is an allergic reaction or mild fungal infection, yet it is greatly affecting my mental faculties, or maybe I’m just going batshit alone.

I miss my John.

March 16, 2023

Sorry, journal. This is becoming to hard.

Words are hard to think of, to remember. I found a thesaurus but remembering spelling is hard.

Oh, almost forgot.

I’m thankful to be breath

I’m thankful to still have John with me.

John returned late last night, very apologetic for his hasty disappearance.

I’m going to go cuddle with him, now. He’s all I got really. He’s keeping the bed warm.

March 18, 2023

God, sorry. I keep missing daily entries.

My back constantly itches, I spent most of yesterday scratching it raw, until it trickled blood.

John seems to have left again. I can’t find him anymore. I hope he’s holed up somewhere safe; it’s cold outside.

Oh, also.

I’m thankful for my mom and dad for making mE

I’m thankful for Elvis. I miss music

Anyway, the itch is starting up again.

Until tomorrow

Steve

March 21, 2023

What’s going on

Happening

You know

Happening is a weird word

It means kind of like “going on now” or like “actively occurring”

But what really is happening?

What is actively occurring inside me?

Weird how that works

How happening is spelled

How it is made of so few letters and sounds

And yet what is ‘happening’ can encapsulate my entire life

And, so I ask myself, what is happening?

What am I doing?

What is going on?

I’m not sure, my friends.

I am thankful to be breathing

I am thankful for my mom

I am thankful for you, journal.

-Steve

Thanks, bro

“Hey, man?”

“Bro, could you not?”

“What?”

“Oh, stop playin. Do you really not know what you’re doing?”

“No, do you not realize how rude it was to cut me off like that?”

“Okay, fine, sorry. I’m sorry, I just assumed you were going to ask for money again. Could you not hear the emotions in my voice, and understand where I was coming from?”

“Uh, no, bro. Sorry, I didn’t think of it like that. Uh… anyway, bro, what’s up?”

“Nothing much, bro. Just studying for this exam. You need something, man?”

“Nah, bro, I’m good. Just… chilling, I guess. You wanna get some drinks with the boys later, man?”

“Ugh, sure, if I’m awake enough. Man, you remember how hard organic chemistry was?“

“Oh, how could I forget?”

“Do you think you could help me with this problem, then?”

“Oh, bro, sorry. I remember how hard it was, especially cause I was checking out Stacy’s ass most of the course. She sat in front of me, remember?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So? So she had a phatty. You don’t remember that?”

“Bro, Stacy was your friend. Anyway, can you help me with this problem, man?”

“Bro, I was getting to that. I remember Stacy’s ass but not any O chem. Don’t you have anyone else to ask? Someone from your class?”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. What’re you doing then, bro? Why are you hanging around me?”

“Well, bro, you were actually right the first time. I was gonna see if I could borrow three fiddy?”

“Clara!” Logan shouted. “I’ve waited years for you!”

Clara recoiled as her ex-husband approached. She tried to run, yet to where?

“I’ve missed you, babe.” Logan said, smiling sickly, his eyes narrowing. Clara all but expected him to extend a forked tongue. “What did you in, hon?”

“Old age.” Clara lied easily, falling back into old patterns. He’d only get angry if he heard the truth.

A whimsically dressed man in a dog pile of fluffy animals was clearly eavesdropping while petting a squirrel.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Logan had an edge to his voice.

“Of course!” Clara immediately smiled, which put Logan at ease.

“I was hoping we could talk.” Logan said. “Hash out the problems we used to have.”

Clara’s heart sank to her stomach, feeling phantom pains from Logan’s fists on her face.

“Sure,” Clara said, looking obviously scared.

The man with the animals seemed to notice her unease and perked up slightly.

“Awesome.” Logan said. “I’ll lead the way home.”

He suddenly reached out and grabbed her upper arm hard, exerting the control he was only so used to exerting.

The flowery man with the animals whispered to a fox.

The fox delicately stole Logan’s hat, who released Clara as he chased the furry demon.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” The animal man asked.

“No.”

At that, the animal man whistled. His hoard of friends bristled, turning to Logan as he made his way back with his hat.

Logan went to grab Clara’s arm again, yet found a myriad of creatures in his way.

Most notably, a grizzly bear stared him eye to eye.

“So it’s like this?” Logan suddenly shouted. “You cheating bitch!”

The grizzly gave him a harsh shove.

“Fucking slut!” Logan screamed as he stormed away.

“It’s like he doesn’t even care.”

“I hear ya.”

“Amen, brother.”

“Like, I put in all this blood, sweat, and tears, and I feel like boss doesn’t even notice me.” Logan went on.

Another chorus of assent rose from his buddies.

“Like, just the other week, I pulled off that kidnapping without a hitch! No one saw me, in and out like a horndog. I brought the dame to boss, still tied up and ready, and he sent me away with the flick of his hand, not even looking at me!”

“Oh, man.” Clyde said. “I’m sorry, Logan. I know it’s hard, sometimes, when he won’t just acknowledge your work.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Logan exclaimed. “How hard would it be to say ‘gee, thanks, Logan. She’s hot. Big titties on her.’? You know? Like is that that big of an ask?”

“I hear you, brother.” Clyde said. “I assassinated that politician and boss wouldn’t even hear my report. He sent Gerald again. I had to give my report to that dope.”

“Oof.”

“Ouch.”

“Damn, brother.” Logan said, spitting on the ground. “Fuck Gerald.”

“What?!”

The boys spun on their heels to see boss’ number two man, Gerald, his hands firmly planted on his hips.

“What did you say, Logan?”

“He said ‘fuck you, Gerald.’” Clyde sounded scared. You don’t lie to Gerald.

“I wasn’t talking to you, boy.” Gerald said, approaching with slow, weighty steps, stopping a few inches from Logan’s face. “I’m talking to you.”

Logan, knowing his fate was sealed, made the first move, landing a glancing blow on Gerald as he drew his weapon with his other hand.

Clyde was faster, landing a bullet in Logan’s head as he whipped around.

Clyde helped up Gerald and offered him his kerchief to wipe the blood splatter.

“Thanks, comrade.” Gerald said, cleaning himself.

“You’d have done the same for me, brother.” Clyde said. “I’m glad you intervened, saved me having to report the situation to you later.”

Gerald nodded, continuing his patrol.

“Fucking Gerald.” Clyde whispered once Gerald had cleared the area.

That moment, a mirror shattered. The veil was pulled back, and light streamed through, giving utter clarity to the people of our world.

Somehow, aging was caused by a single person with a super power.

Chaos erupted, my brothers. Oh, my brothers, how the world was set on fire.

You see, brothers, we only had to kill one bloody man! How easy of a task that is, if you really put your mind to it.

“Stop!” Martha screamed, holding her hands in front of her face.

The metal pipe came crashing down first on her right wrist, which lay limply by her side. She wisely moved her left hand, taking the pipe on her left temple.

Several more blows rendered her mush.

Yet, people kept aging.

The man moved on throughout the hero academy in search of his next victim.

"This is what I was saying!" Martha screamed. "It's that god damned dog all over again! You save one stray dog, what happens when you come across the next stray dog?! We live in Arkansas, Justin! We could find a stray dog every block if we wanted to! And now that same pathology, with helpless young women stuck in towers? What the fuck, Justin? What about us?! What about you and me? What about Tom and Helen?"

"Babe," Justin said. "I don't know what you want from me. We both knew this job would require travel. We both agreed to this."

"We both agreed to occasional travel!" Martha retorted. "You are not traveling occasionally! Every weekend, you go trolling around looking for another twenty-something to whisk down from a tower, then be like 'oh, I dunno what to do with you, let's just add her to our family'. We have enough 'daughters', Justin!"

"Hey," Justin sounded angry. "Enough, Martha. These little girls need someone too. They have no one, they don't deserve to be locked away their full lives."

"But, honey, that is just the world! That is what we live with! It is like the stray dogs! Do you want to go rescue some?" Martha swung open the front door, from which they could see two stray dogs, one corgi mix, the other a mutt. "Go get 'em."

Justin looked at Martha with vitriol, not speaking to not regret his words.

"This is different." Is all Justin said, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Sure," Martha spat. "Sure. Keep scratching this weird altruistic itch at the downfall of the rest of your family."

"You don't get it!" Justin screamed, suddenly animated. Martha recoiled, slightly scared.

"It didn't start like this!" Justin continued. "The first time I went, I didn't even want to! Clyde and the boys were going and talked me into it. That first time, honey... I didn't think it'd be so bad. That little girl... I still dream of her most nights, skeletally thin, unbathed, chained in her own filth.

"The only thing that has ever helped has been contributing, from dawn until dusk, until you're too tired to take another step. Then slamming a flask or two of whiskey, then gracefully to sleep. And the sleep that comes then is blissful, cradled in darkness. Morning comes and I don't wake up with a tight chest. This is saving me! This is saving my heart!"

By the end, Justin was blubbering. Martha cradled his head as he sank into the couch, laying on her lap.

Their 'daughters' had stirred from the guest house and were wondering what was wrong with their mom and dad.

However, Justin soon fell asleep in Martha's lap, following the intensity of the evening.

Martha invited in the girls, who had breakfast prepared when Justin woke up from his deep slumber.

"Honey, what happened?"

"I lost, ma," I said, my eyes finding a crack in the floor to focus on.

"Oh," She whispered, beginning to cry.

"I'm sorry." I had no more words. Bile filled my throat as my body betrayed me.

The thunder cracked as it must. Ma's cry ceased.

The instigators came forward, prying my eyes open, forcing me to look at the wreck that was my ma.

They had been kind, in a way, I thought. A single clean bullet. In the shock of the moment, I nearly thanked the man hefting the rifle.

The men led me to the next game, where my father was shackled.

I think I was too close to it emotionally cause yeah that makes sense

I only left this disclaimer since a while ago I posted a response I was fairly proud of and was heavily downvoted for not fitting the prompt. I agree with basically all ya said though, and will prolly leave it to people’s brains in the future.

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/zaanjb/wp_youre_a_renowned_author_whos_still_going_to/iymn9it/?context=8&depth=9

The referenced post.

Thanks a ton <3

In case mine is confusing: I ignored the time travel conundrum and just did a spin on the moral quandary of if you should wait for a crime or bad thing to happen before taking action.

"...sadly, miss, in these situations, there is little we can do." The officer said to Angela. "Has he hurt you? Your children? Anything violent? Anything illegal? You said to the dispatcher that he was screaming. You sounded scared, the dispatch said. Are you scared?"

A million thoughts flew through Angela, one of which not wanting to accuse her love, the man with whom she'd been for years.

"No. Like I said," Angela said. "he has not hurt me yet. He promised he would. He swore it. Then," She lowered her voice. "When you showed up, a flip switched, like a lever. One hundred to zero. He's pretending."

Officer Royce believed her. All the worse for his conscience.

"Ma'am, do you have any family you could stay with, just for a few days until this calms down?"

She, of course, did not, having moved across the country for her man.

"No."

"Well, ma'am. Again, the dispatcher sounded concerned. Is there anything else you'd like to add? Anything that he has already done, not just thought about or talked about?"

Angela's gaze found the floor.

"No." She croaked.

Her body was found decaying several weeks later, following a wellness check from her father.

The doctors were understandably proud at the moment, as these procedures always have some risks associated with them.

Jason rushed towards the girl, gripping her in a tight hug she did not reciprocate. Jason had been so excited in the days leading to this. Before the appointment, he had even thrown out his various pillows with the titty characters. He viewed it as a divorce from his previous loves, so that he could fully involve himself with his new girl, Clarissa.

Jason seemed to forget our presence as he hugged her; he began groping her, his eyes clenched tight as he kissed her unmoving lips.

The doctors gently ushered him aside, making up some tests they'd need to perform as Clarissa still stood dead-still.

Then, her face formed an abrupt look of disgust as she regarded Jason.

"Ughkhk." She let out an ugly breath before turning away.

Jason looked ready to pass out. I mean he looked like he was about to start crying, maybe even hit her.

The doctors intercepted him, though, placing the tablet in front of him.

"Okay," The lead physician spoke. She pressed the pause button. Clarissa stopped. "As you know, via this tablet you can mold your love as you might a clay pot or a marble statue. For example, that opening reaction was perhaps not so favorable. If we open that memory, we can trace why she felt that way. Ah, see. Here, in her coded childhood, she had a bad experience with redheads. We'll change that to brunettes, perhaps, and try again."

Several trials passed that way; Clarissa really did not like how Jason looked.

Several hours later, we are finally home again, and what I feared has unfortunately already come true.

The constant thumping of the headboard. The squeaking of the springs. The slapping of skin on skin (I have learned my son is into spanking). The moans and the oh yeses.

Just... it's not been my proudest day as a father.

On the day the missiles fell in Dallas, my family and I went about our daily lives only a few hundred short miles away in Sa0n Antonio. The news came to us when we were at a frozen yogurt shop, nearly finished with our cups.

A blaring breaking news alert and grainy footage of smoldering buildings crackled onto the screen. An old bloke started on about how the news is all negative in these days, and insisted the pimply worker turned it off.

The worker obliged. At that time Helen and I assumed a factory exploded or some such nonsense.

We discovered otherwise later that evening, yet the air still oddly did not change.

The next day, Helen and I went to our respective jobs. Almost everyone did in a kind of stupor, moving as if controlled by puppets. I think we were all in shock, really, in those early days. We just needed to occupy our hands with some bleeding task.

Anyway, that evening, after a long day of productive faffing about, Helen and I cuddled up at home with the little ones in front of the tube.

Texas' Governor instituted a preemptive, "extra-cautious", lockdown throughout the entire state after sundown. This was winter, my friends, so by six in the afternoon the roads would be bleeding empty.

It didn't matter, my friends.

There we were: me and Helen and our two tykes, Garret and Sophia. Frozen was just beginning in the background, the gents were still sawing their lovely blocks of ice.

Then our beige apartment walls crumpled inward with extreme rapidity. Darkness swallowed.

I have a lot of respect for the men and women in the recovery effort, I must tell you. My apartment was one of thousands in a sprawling, enormous maze of buildings. Yet, I saw the light of day within a month, despite being on one of the lowest floors.

Unfortunately, my survival was noticed. And what I guess you'd call bigwigs were on the scene when they pulled me out of the rubble.

Yet, they got the wrong idea, my friends. The military men were horrified, certain I was an imposter from another land. They learned quickly that though physical means did not puncture me, chemical damage could.

And, my friends, they had many, many means of inflicting chemical harm.

A gent named Jack who is stalking a girl or maybe a few girls (or guys, genders are fluid) but genuinely believes that he is just being a kind gentleman who is basically courting this woman in his mind