Friday, March 21, 2014

Stories 2.0

Okay, this was a 3 minute story, 120 words. No editing, not even removing/adding words 'cause it came out 120 exactly:

There’s one story I only tell when I’m drunk.

After the guys have had a few rounds and everyone’s in that headspace where you’re shooting the shit and solving the great philosophical questions of the age.

Y’know, when everything someone suggests is fucking brilliant, even if all it is is, “Man, let’s get some pizza!” or “We should all quit our jobs and start our own micro-brewery!”

It’s the point past where you’re just bragging, when you start talking about what you lost, or what you wish you’d done. Things it’s safe to say ‘cause no one will even remember it the next day.

Being abducted and probed by aliens is not a story you want to tell sober.


  1. Bryce's Story (Ghoulish Happenings from his pov :))

    There’s one story I only tell when I’m drunk. At least, I think that’s when I’d tell it because I’ve never been drunk. Even Mom doesn’t know. She suspects. She’s a Smith so she must. And you’re sleeping on the couch, curled up into it like a cat and – and maybe I want you to wake up, to have heard my voice and remember this. I don’t know. I’ve been lying to you about magic. Because you’re a monster, Wray, because family comes above all other things.

    And because if you knew, you would leave. Because ghouls are made, not born. That’s the ugly truth of magic. It spills out every time we use it and monsters are born from that. You weren’t local, Wray. No one has come looking, so you were likely homeless, sleeping in the cemetery overnight before trying to hitch a ride into Vancouver. Then Everett Jones and I fought. I’d never fought a real duel until then, never tapped the depths of my magic. He died. Badly. The other magician with him did as well.

    I heard about you two nights later, went t the cemetery. You had dug up corpses and were trying to hide from people: most monsters attack to defend their territory. You bit my left pinky off when I cornered you and bolted to hide again. You let me touch you the second time, didn’t resist when I told you to follow me home. That’s when I was sure I’d made you. Becoming a monster burns away most memories of one’s life – it took away entire skills from you as well. Or maybe your mind regressed itself to survive. I don’t know.

    I wanted a friend. No. I have friends. Elsa, maybe the twins. I wanted someone who was more than a friend, after Hamish left. I wanted to someone to love me, and no normal person ever could. I think that went into your making, and it’s why you followed me when I asked, why you’re friends with me. I don’t know. Magic won’t work on you, so I can’t know. You’d be more than friends with me if I asked, Wray. But would you want that? I don’t know.

    I don’t know. I don’t even know how I’ll tell you this in the waking world, that everything that’s gone so wrong wrong in your life is my fault.

    I hope you don’t remember this when you wake up.

    (I think I’m lying.)

    1. I love the line, "She's a Smith, so she must." It just boils with possibilities!

      ...and wow... so, so sad...

      Damn it, Alcar! finish this one so I can read it!!

    2. ( *am* starting the draft of it today. And yeah. Brcye might be being too hard on himself since the magicians don't truly know how 'magic == monsters' really works but the odds are definitely in favour of him creating a monster out of a broken relationship among other things. Which is probably not a good headspace to be in when duelling another magician if nothing else :)

    3. Super interesting... almost like warped-wish-fulfilment.

  2. Damn it. Now I want to continue your fic :.... so I shall :)

    "But man, you could do the talk row circuit ...."

    "They weren't the good kind of aliens. They did the bad probes."

    "Uh, dude, aliens do anal probes."

    "Those are the good ones. These ones do the bad probes. Oh, God, I need another beer."

    1. *snort*

      Oh my goodness, TMI, buddy... T. M. I.

    2. *bows* I think that is best left to the imagination. Thanks for inspiring that; there was something in how your narrator was so adamant about not telling it sober that made me go 'what if they're really WEIRD aliens?' and then take it sideways.

    3. haha, definitely you would be the one to imagine 'weird' aliens ;)

  3. The only thing came up with is only when drunk but now that in AA I guess I’ll have to tell the story sober. Problem is - can’t think of a twist of a story

  4. ok then one of you has to prompt me for a story he tells

    1. I already gave you one!

      AA for supernatural creatures :) instead of cocaine, heroin, alcohol -> fairy blood, pixy dust, unicorn farts (do you huff those? like glue?) :p

    2. Okay, since Sue didn't post a link to hers, here it is: