Posts Tagged ‘story’

This is an old story that I was writing. I didn’t like where it was going, so I stopped writing it. I am now showing you guys that story. It is only a short snippet, but it’s what I got done before growing bored of the idea. I hope that is fine!

red school blur factory

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Hospital from Hell

Chapter 1: Birthdays of Regret

She is seventy-seven today. Mary spent most of her birthdays looking at the old photos taking from her old pageants, wishing she could go back to the old days and receive that internship with Marilyn Agency once again.

That was the best day of her life. She was sitting in the kitchen chewing on a piece of bland chicken that her mother attempted to cook, when the phone rang throughout the trailer she was forced to be crammed into. Mary ran to the phone and answered, hoping that it was the management of Marilyn, she had dreamed of that phone call since her first pageant, and spent many nights waiting by the phone for this one phone call.

“Hello, my name is Brian, the Main manager at Marilyn.”

Mary was speechless, could this be real? Could her dream really becoming true with this one phone call, or was it coming to an end? Without this internship, Mary could kill modeling goodbye. Her mother already stated that unless  she proved by her senior year that she could become a model, she wouldn’t be allowed to pursue that dream.

“Hello, Mary Vengerro?” Brian ensured that he had not been disconnected

“Yes, I’m here” Marys’ voice cracked, leaving her embarrassed on the line.

“Yes, Mary, I’m calling on the behalf of your most recent application.”

Mary smiled big as she awaited her life to change

“I’m saddened to inform you that you haven’t been selected to participate in this year’s internship program.”

Megan’s heart dropped, tears filled her eyes. She tried to keep her composer while on the phone, but the tears came, and hard.

“Mam, Are you okay?” Brian asked sincerely, but she didn’t answer.

“Mam?” Brian repeated, again no one answered. He disconnects the phone.

Megan slams down the phone then throws it against the wall; her mother heard the sound and rushed in her room.

“What are you doing?” Linda asked as she searched for damage on Megan’s freshly painted wall.

“Nothing, leave!” Megan screams, Her mother steps back and puts her hand up.

“Don’t talk to me like that, little missy!” Megan puts her hand over her face and begins to bawl. Linda sits next to her and grabs her.

“They didn’t want me!” Linda couldn’t tell what she said so she asked what she said.

“They modeling company rejected me!” The room got silent, Megan waited for her mom to grab her, but she didn’t.

“No duh, your too fat!” Linda’s words hit hard. Megan couldn’t hold back what happens next, she blacks out.

Her hand flies through the air and makes contact with her mom’s face. Her head snaps back, not expecting the blow from her daughter.

Megan gets on top on her and began to punch her. Linda’s face began to get swollen with each hit. Blood was seeping through her nose; her eyes were nearly shut from the abuse she was receiving.

“Stop” Linda Screamed, Megan swings hard, and hits her in the mouth. She pulls back her hand to see a tooth came out with the punch and now was in her fist.

Finally Amber pulls away. Realizing what she did, Amber runs out of the room. Linda was left there, gasping for the tiniest lung full of air, but each breath she took was full of her own blood.

Megan comes back in to the room, Linda is still lying there with no movement, her chest isn’t moving. Megan hurries over to her, hoping she isn’t dead.

She jumps on top of her mother. Feels her chest and sees that her mother was still alive. Knowing that her mother would put her in jail, Megan had to do something.

“Mom, dad did this you go that? I will kill you if you say I did!” Linda nodded in agreement.

Megan left the room and called 911.



man sitting on edge facing sunset

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When I was in 6th grade, I wrote my first real story. It was a horror story and I was so proud of it, though I can’t remember what it was about. But I was proud! I proud enough to walk over to my teacher and told her that I was going to be a writer, one day. She read it and raised one of her eyebrows. She told me that it was a good start and that I was very creative. This was the beginning of something special. She told me that it was full of run-ons, but that it could be turned into a master piece; and that no matter what I do, to chase my dreams. This is what started this crazy journey. I knew at that moment, that I wanted to be a writer, and I would do anything (in my power) to become one.

I never had anyone put me down for my writing. I remember when I was in 4th grade, we were supposed to write a story, but I couldn’t because my mother didn’t have a stable home for me to write in. I didn’t do the assignment, but the teacher wanted me to read it to the class. She wanted me to read it in front of a class, a story I never wrote! So what was I supposed to do, tell her I didn’t do the assignment? Heck no! I got up, walked to the front of the class and read my story about a vicious bear, tearing through a town of innocent families. I read for 10 minutes, flipping through the pages, until I finished. After the reading, she asked for the pages, I nervously handed them over and went back to my seat. She went on with the class, asking the next student to come forward and share. The bell rang 30 minutes later; I got up and walked to the door to go to lunch. But as I got to the front of the room, my teacher called my name. My chest was burning as I turned around. “Yes, mam?” She was holding my story up, revealing the empty pages. I began to shake, knowing that I failed the assignment. She told me that I should have been honest, but that I had a huge imagination, one that could make a good career one day. She gave me an A on the assignment for the creativity, since she couldn’t tell that I was reading an empty page.

Jump ahead to my senior year of high school. I have multiple WIPs; I have a solid blog and I’m getting more confident with my talents. A guy comments on my blog, telling me that I need to keep writing. I didn’t know that people could read my blog. I didn’t share it anywhere, so it through me off when I got such love. It felt great!  I also had a teacher behind me, pushing me to use my gifts, knowing I could be something.

Now I am a writer. I write daily. I have my days where I don’t want to write, or weeks where I feel I’m not a good enough writer, but I just remember the encouragement, from my past, and I get back to work, creating more content for you guys, knowing that the people in my past would be happy with where I am now! I never stopped following my dream to become a writer, so why would you give up on your dreams?

Stop telling yourself that you aren’t good enough. Stop grabbing your dream then letting it go because you think you don’t have enough grip on it. One day you will wake up and it will be too late to grab it, so grab it now! Don’t be worried about the outcome, but instead, make the outcome! Don’t stop chasing your dream because your legs are tired. Push through the hard times and grab that dang want. You want the dream to come true, don’t you? It’s all within your chest! You are the creator, so create the ending that you want. If you want to be a doctor, then become a doctor. You are the only one that is standing in your way. You can do this. I know you can.

​There was an old story that was going to be something. I wrote 5 chapters before scrapping the project. Now, after years, I am going to show you guys the first chapter. Sorry about the spacing.. 

The pastor stands there holding his bible. He is dressed in a nice black suit with a red tie, that has a little button on the tip that says “Forgiven.” Indicating that anything that passes this world into paradise must first be forgiven by something bigger than ourselves.

“We are gathered here today to remember the life of Theordore Ramsey. Though he lived a short life, the length of time he had here affected many.” I could hear the agonizing cries from all of my friends and family, it is breaking my heart to hear the sound, but I cant do anything, which has to be the worse part!

“And though we don’t know why God took our young man, we have to believe that he has a purpose.” Ah that’s not right pastor, don’t tell them that, don’t make them question what purpose God has for my death. Telling them that will make them hate God even more! Be Sensitive to them!

I cant hear the pastor anymore? I guess that means he is done talking? I sure hope so, his speech was okay, but overall he needs help! There is no reason that I should be crying at my funeral, well besides the fact that I am dead. Other than that, I should not be crying, but with this pastor, I was bawling the whole time that he was speaking.

I thought they were about to put the roses on my coffin and seal me in the ground, but then I heard her voice, her sweet soft voice. The voice I fell in love with, the voice I would wake up to every morning. The voice I would hear screaming at me when I would make her made, even then it was beautiful. Her voice is voice that I will miss the most once I am six feet under. I hope I don’t forget that sound. I hope that every second I am in this coffin, I hear her voice.

She begins to talk about how we spent our life together, the best parts and she even talked about some of the rough parts. But there was one part of her speech that really touched me, it was the night before we split, it was a week before our wedding. Emotions were high, stress even higher, so I decided that I wanted to go watch the sunset, and get her home before ten like the old days. It went like this:   

It is 8 o’clock P.M. Central timing, if you were trying to imagine how dark it is at this point, it isn’t that dark, the sun is just pearing over the horizon. Usually the sun goes down by now, but for some reason it has decided that it wasn’t ready to leave its resting place for the night.

 I wish at this point that we could pause time and cherish the time that we have together, I never once took it for granted, but I never truly was appreciative for it. So maybe I did take it for granted.

We were lying on a blanket, luckly it was a nice night in Illinois, since the rest of the week after that was a complete mess, I believe that there was even snow in July? I hate weather inIllinois, it was more bipolar than my in-laws. I liked my in-laws, as much as I like kittens. They are nice from a distance, but when they get close, all they do is bite.

Anyways, we were lying on the blanket, I supported a pair of kaki shorts, where she wore her jean mini-skirt, I couldn’t keep my mind off her legs, making it harder for me to wait that week for our wedding, I just had to tell her that I wanted to wait. I believed waiting was the best option for our marriage. If something would have happened to us, and she wouldn’t of been whole for her husband, as she wanted to be, I would of felt horrible. So waiting it was. She just didn’t make it easy on me!

“I am getting a little chilly.” I wrapped her in my arms to help her body warm up, she enjoyed the feeling, as did I. We talked about the wedding the whole night, talking about the objects we still needed to buy and what we still needed to do for the special day. Which wasn’t much, we only had a few things left to do being: Paying the pastor and booking a hotel for our honeymoon. Overall we have all this wedding paid for, even though we didn’t decide to plan until six months before, because we are smart!

We are getting to the point in this memory where I cant remember all the details, even if I did it would be hard to explain, but I will try my hardest to give you all the correct descriptions!

We decided that at 9:30 we were going home, well it got to that time and we packed up the car with the blankets from her mother’s room. I wanted to drive 20 mph the whole way there, because after tonight the only time we were going to talk is if we had a question about the wedding. We wanted to build tension between each other to make it more exciting on our big day.

I dropped her off at her house, she gave me a long passionate kiss that I embraced happily knowing it was going to be my last one for a week. I went in for another one before she exited the car, but she smirked, and told me I had to wait. The torture was enforced, as she wanted me to cry on the inside, she wanted me to feel pain, for telling her she had to wait to have kids. She wanted me to regret my decision, and I was for sure.

I watched her as she walked into her house, it was late so she asked me to not go up to the door, as I said before in-laws are jerks, so I had to watch her from a distance. She turned around and gave me a blow-kiss. I returned the favor and drove off. 

 It was 1 A.m. when she got the call, telling her to get to the hospital. The doctor told her that I was in extreme condition and that I will not make it through the night. I then heard a loud scream, and crying, before blacking out.

Dear Bad waitress:

    WE didn’t leave you a tip for many reasons, even though you thought you deserved one. The main reason was because you suck at your job, hell that whole store sucks. Let me take you through my experience and reveal just why we didn’t leave you a tip.

We walked in with a group of ten people. We are all generous tippers, that usually go off how well someone works. I have tipped up to 50 dollars, but I also refuse to tip someone that fusses about a group of people. Don’t think I didn’t hear your remarks when we first walked in. You didn’t want us there, because you didn’t want to work, so you muttered “Can someone else take this group, I don’t want it?” It showed.

We sat down and waited a few minutes for you to greet us. You didn’t smile when you asked how our night was, and you didn’t attempt to spark any kind of conversation. This isnt that big of a deal, until you didn’t bring us our drinks. We waited 15-minutes to get our drinks, well two of the ten, that is. You gave them their orange juice, but didn’t bother to bring the other drinks? My wife waited 20+ minutes to get her water, now that is ridiculous. Also, how the hell don’t you have sweet tea? Or milkshakes? I can understand the milkshakes, but sweet tea?

The drinks were redeemable. I was still in the mood to give a tip, even though you interrupted me while ordering. You allowed me to order one of my two items before going on to the next person. The chili cheeseburger was a pretty big sandwich, but I also wanted to buy a order of tatter tots smothered with Jalapeños, cheese, and sour cream. But I believe I dodged a bullet with your rudeness, because the hamburger was gross enough to force my drink down, quickly. This is when you lost the tip. It’s your damn job to refill my drink, as many times as I need! I shouldn’t have to flag you down to get another drink, especially at 2.19. My father-in-law never got a refill on a soda that price.

Finally, we didn’t leave a tip because of the price of a single hamburger patty. My cousin bought an extra patty, thinking it was only $1.50, but it came out to $4.59. We thought it was a bit pricey, but that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that you didn’t give two shits about our question. Instead you decide to tell us that you didn’t know, as you continued to check him out, without even trying to solve the problem. You didn’t say “have a good night,” instead you muttered a phrase that I hope takes your damn job. You were caught muttering “Ten damn people came up to pay, not a damn one gave a tip.”

You don’t deserve a tip. You were the rudest waitress, ever. Being pregnant I thought you would want your job, but I couldn’t see it on this night. All I could see is a self-righteous woman that believes they deserve a tip, no matter what their service is like. You are a free loader and the reason I will never visit your Denny’s again. You’re lucky I even paid for my food, fool.


Impromtdude @

    Does anyone know where my Honda went? Someone must have stolen it…
    This will be a quick story about my old church. This story came in my third year of being a Christian. I was talking to a pastor about speaking in tongues. I always wanted to do the impossible, and for me speaking in tongues was impossible. I didn’t understand it and always felt it was a trick to get people more hyped in church, but for some reason, I was never able to achieve the goal of doing so.

    Being very frustrated, I wanted to get my pastors advice. What he told me was un-releastic and made me question everything. I don’t know if he was joking, but  if he wasn’t then there are so many people walking around, thinking they are giving a gift of God, when in reality they are fools of a man’s tricks.

    The trick is very simple. You just have to say a few simple phrases, quickly, and you did it! The phrases are; “Who stole my Honda?” and “Untie my bow tie.” Now of course, one must say them quickly and in a low volume, mainly to ensure no one hears you, but that is the trick. You will be able to speak in tongues without problems, but only of you follow the rules.

    Let me remind you:
1. Get pumped at Church.
2. Lift your hands
3. Start praying
4. Say one of the two phrases.
5. Keep it low volumed and continue.
6. Sell it!


Obviously, this isn’t the way to do this, but I found it funny. The Lord is something to not joke about. But also playing tricks on people isn’t acceptable either. So if you want to do this, so be it, but make sure to keep it to yourself. Don’t share my secrets …fool!


A wattpad special!
Standing alone!
I sit here, in my room, all alone after the fight with my wife. I said a few things again that were not needed to be said. I know I need to stop the way that I treat her, or one day she will leave me. But there is something that she does, that pisses me off. My wife pushes me to a point that I want to break her neck. I have never been violent with a woman, but there is a line that I also haven’t crossed and I feel like she is about to shove me across that line.
The whole fight started with her staying at work for longer than needed. I was waiting outside waiting for her, I had roses in one hand and wine in the other. But when she came outside she didn’t notice my kind gesture. I wanted to slam her head into the car window, but my past teachings taught me to never hit a woman, so I kept my cool until I got into the car.
Once we got into the car, I let her have it though. I told her that she needed to pay more attention to me and that it was unacceptable. She snapped back talking about how if I did it more then it might mean something to her. As I said before, I wanted to bash her head in, show her the amount of pain and embarrassment, that she just shown outside her job, but I kept cool, again. I remember driving home after that was said, thinking of a way to punish her, but something inside wasn’t allowing me to think of the dark tortures. I stayed quite the rest of the way home.
She got out of the car quickly, slamming the door behind her and walking into the house. She was trying to make me mad, but I was numb to the ignorance that she was showing. I have dealt with the craziness for more than 7 years, so I let her storm up the stairs and take a shower, just like every time I make her mad. This time was different though, there was never a light turned on, not even for the room that she would usually lay her heavy jacket in before getting naked. The fear of someone attacking my love, made me nervous so I went to check on her. I got out of the car when the light came on. I got a little annoyed by the timing of her presence.
Now that I was outside of the car, what was I suppose to do? I wasn’t about to go in there and act as if I did something wrong, but I also didn’t want to stay in the cold weather. I contemplated getting back into the car, but starting the car would waste more gas than I want to. So I chose to go for a walk around the block, this would give her time to get her apology ready.
The walk was working, it was making me forget the things that just happened, but it also was making me think of worse things. The past was never easy for me or my family, my father was an abuser and my mother paid for his choices. She would be up all night waiting for him to get home from bingo, in order for him to hit her. One night she left, and I was left there with him. He lost all of his money playing that night, and was angry. I try to forget that nightmare as if it didn’t happen, but every time I close my eyes, I see his hand. His big brass hand hit my flesh multiple times that night, but that wasn’t the worse part. He tied me up and tortured me.
He pulled a cloth out of the closet and put the contents on the desk in the center of the room. He removed the cloth to reveal that he had my mother tied up. She looked at me and began to scream. I couldn’t believe that I thought she left, when he had her in the closet. I tried to free myself, but it wasn’t working, I was forced to sit her as he began to taunt her.
He pulled out his knife from his holster and ran it along her tan skin. A tear formed in her eye, I felt bad for not being able to help her. She began to pull her hand from the rope, but my dad was too fast for that, as he slammed the knife through her palm. Her scream gave me deadly chills through my spine, as I sat there crying. Blood began to pour from her hand onto the ground. She looked into my eyes as he began to laugh. “Get it done!” He shouted “But then what?” He replied to his previous comment. My father seemed to be possessed, but that’s impossible, isn’t it? “Kill her!” He began to yell louder as he lifted the knife. Something stopped him dead in the tracks as he lowered the knife, “I can’t do it!” He moaned in sadness, but then he began to laugh again. During this all, my mother was still trying to get out of the grasp that he had on her. He started to spaz out again, grabbing his head and pulling his hair, still holding the knife that he had just put down. “Nah, I got this!” He dug the long blade into her stomach and began to twist the blade. He began to pull the knife down her torso, the knife was ripping through all of her intestines. The room was splattered with blood, the blood from my mother. I couldn’t comprehend what I witnessed that night. I know the feeling that I had though, my heart hurt, I was mad, I was crushed. I lost my mother that night. I wanted my revenge, but that night was also the last time I saw my dad. He ran out of the room shouting something crazy, it was in another language. The cops never found him, the searched for miles after they got a domestic violence call from my neighbors. They said they saw him running outside with the bloody knife that committed the murder.
I found myself laying on the street at 12 a.m., the night that I left for the walk. I must have fell asleep when I began to think of my mother and father. I couldn’t walk anymore at that point, the pain felt to real. It has been 6 years since that happened, and I still fight with the horror everyday! I don’t know what to do, I have ruined my marriage from not being able to let this go. My wife has been strong throughout this whole situation, but I have been treating her like garbage the last six months. I fought with her father, told him I was going to kill him and his wife for saying something that wasn’t even towards me. I then told her sister that she was a slut, and told her husband that she was a cheater. They recently filed for divorce, and that is my fault. I never liked her family, but I tolerated them for her, but that ended when they took shots at my anger. They told her that it was stupid for her to be with me, due to the fact that I haven’t worked in a year. I have been searching for employment, but it is hard to find a job. Now not only do they hate me, she also hates me. My own wife hates me, and I can do nothing about it. We tried to go through marriage counseling, but that was a waste of time. The therapist was a woman and babied my wife through the whole class, saying that I should give up everything to make her happy, and that I am a bad husband. Now I see it, I am a bad husband, I’m my fathers’ son.
I think about these things on a daily bases, usually I walk to clear my mind, but tonight its not working. I feel more angry since I started walking. Thoughts come through my head, saying I should have stayed home. I feel unsafe, As if I might explode if I go home. But if I don’t go home, then she will think that I cheated, and that would lead to, yet another big fight. I already have to explain why I was out until  12 in the morning. But that will be much easier to do, than to explain why I didn’t come home at all. I walk through our front door and round my way up the stairs. She was sitting on the couch with a cell phone lit up in her hand. The look that she gave was deadly, I knew this was going to turn out well. I smiled, but she didn’t find it funny. “Where have you been?” I shook my head and replied “I had an episode and passed out.” She giggles and spits back “Whatever, another damn episode, get some help…loser.” My blood began to boil, the words that my dad always called me exited her mouth as venom. I lifted my hand in anger, trying to get her to stop, but she didn’t. “Why don’t you get your life together.” I snapped. “Screw you, you are stupid. You can root in hell with your parents.” The room got real quite before she jumped up and began to hit me in the face with her phone. My hands shot up in defense as I tried to get her to stop. She kept hitting me, each time the punches weakened my defense. I blacked out, and began to fight back. I pushed her to the ground and got on top of her. My first hit was an accident, but I enjoyed the feeling it gave me. All the bottled up angrier that I kept inside finally was out. I stopped after three hits, thinking that was the end of the fight. But then out of nowhere, she nailed me in the balls with her knee and attempted to get up. I grabbed her leg and pulled it back down. I was the stronger of the two, so I forced my way off the ground, and walked into the kitchen. This was a clear attempt to get away from her, but she followed as she threw a glass at me. It missed and smashed into the wall. I shouted a few words, then she attacked again. She grabbed the knife off the counter and lunged the tip towards me, she missed. I lowered my elbow into her forearm forcing the blade to the ground. She reached for the handle, my knee implanted into her stomach. She fell to the ground. This time I got on top of her. I was trying to get her to stop before something bad happened. She clawed at me, scratching the inside of my eye. My vision went red, my eye was fully covered in blood from the inside. My body got weak as I grabbed the frying pan from the cover. I swung one time, slamming the flat plate against her skull, she was knocked out. I thought that was the end, I was surely going to jail, my marriage was over. I began to spaz out, thinking to myself “What can I do?” So I took the knife and plummeted it into her gut, she arose from her sleep, screaming in agony. I apologized as I twisted the blade and drug it down her gut. Her eyes turned lifeless, her lips turned blue. I had to think fast on what I could do to not go to jail, then I thought of the perfect plan. I grabbed a pen and paper and wrote:
“Don’t come looking for me. I am Larry Olsen, Travis Olsen’s dad. If I find out that you came looking for me, I will kill Travis as I killed Rebecca, his wife. I have longed for the day that I could have my son back into my arms, and nothing will take him from me again. This is why she had to die, she held him back from me.”
I left the note on her dead body, after I tied her up and put a bag over her head. I took the knife with me so they couldn’t take the DNA off the evidence. The cops will see this as a strike against my father, and I can go on living my own life again. I will move states and pray that no one in her family sees me out-and-about. What if they do though? I ask myself instantly. I would like to think I would let them be, say they are insane and go on with my day, but the true answer is; if anyone spots me, that’s where they stand alone, dead. The same way my mother laid, and the same way that Rebecca lays now. I didn’t want to do this tonight, but like I said before; I am my fathers son!  



We ran to the other side of the room, missing the attackers grasp by inches. He stared at us with a dirty grin and picked up his shovel. As he walks towards us, he throws the head of the shovel into a stack of plates, shattering all of them, and throwing broken glass on to the kitchen floor. I let out a really loud scream as the glass hits the ground. But Amanda was staying calm, she stood in the middle of the old man and myself. She began to reason with the man.

“Sir, this isn’t what it seems. You think that we were trying to cross into your territory but that isn’t the case. We were out of alcohol, and we didn’t want to stop the party. That was the fastest way to the convince store, so we thought taking that would help. We didn’t even know you were still back there in that trailer. We weren’t trying to make you angry. If you leave now, everything that happened tonight will be forgotten.”

Amanda took a step towards the man, trying to show that she was serious, but she over stepped her boundaries. He grabs her by her throat and starts to choke her. She broke lose the first time by slamming her arm down into his elbow. But he quickly recovered and got her back into the choke hold. I was frozen to the wall as I watched my best friends’ face turning color. I knew that I needed to do something or she would be dead in no time. So I run over to the kitchen and grab one of the pieces of glass off the ground and walk over to the man that was on his knees and this point. I jab him in the back with the glass. This caused him to grab me and throw me on the ground.

He walks over to me, saliva running down his chin, his tongue sticking out fully, as if he were trying to bite the organ off. He took his foot and pushed me back fully on the ground, and lifted his leg as he was about to stomp on my head. I had my whole life flash in front of my eyes as I close my eyes and started praying to God. There was a loud manly scream, then I felt someone grab me, I started to push the person off as I open my eyes. It was Amanda telling me that we needed to run.

We got outside and tried to get into her car, but the Maniac was parked behind all the cars. She looks at me and then tells me that we could run into the woods and run to the old prison. We decide that is the best option at this point, and started to run to the woods. At that moment the door to the house flew wide open, releasing a man with a missing eye. Amanda had jabbed him in his eye to save my life making this man very angry. He started to run towards us. We got to the edge of the woods and look back, he is running full speed at us. We take off again as we try to outrun him.

He got into the woods and took at different path, we lost our site of him, but we could hear his shovel bouncing off each of his passing trees, then when we were expecting it, he appears out of the shadows and slams his shovel into Amandas’ ankle, breaking the bone. Amanda lets out a big scream, and tries to run away, he tried to hit her again, but this time I ran up to him and put my finger deeply into his missing eye, he screamed as Amanda got up. When I saw her limping away, I threw my leg into his balls and ran away, catching up to my friend and helped her. 

It was five minutes later when we finally saw a house up the way, we need to get her ankle elevated, not thinking that he was going to catch up to us, we decide to take a break in the house. We hurried into the house, Amanda immediatly took a seat as I looked around the house. This house was filthy, there were cans of beans laying around, clothes on the ground, and cocroaches climbing the walls. This was a horrible place to be, but it was going to do until we could go back outside. With the premises checked, I want to see how bad her ankle is, so I walk over to her and ask her to take off her shoe. As she took off her shoe, I could see that she had broken the bone. It was swollen with a sharp piece of bone pushing out her skin. He had shattered the bone in complete, but it was something that a doctor could easily fix when we get her to the emergency room. She was being so tough, she is trying to get me to laugh, but my only worry is her and her health.

“Oh shit” Amanda whispered to me as she ducked down, I followed her and asked her what it was. She explained to me that she heard a whistle, the same sound that the guy made as he walked up on her and Alex early that night. I wanted to see if there was any sign of him, but Amanda told me to not check.

I sat there holding on to her scared to death. She was just sitting there though, it was as if she didn’t care what happened next. We heard the whistle getting louder, so I took the leadership and told her that I was going to check out the window for the man. As I glanced out the window, I saw the man. He was standing a hundred yards away, patting his shovel against his arm. As I was about to get back down, he looked over at me, he noticed that we were in the house, so he started to walk this way.

I got sat back down and told Amanda that we need to get down and hide. She pulled the cover over her head with a hammer, that she found in a toolbox, and lied there. I lied next to the couch, in a position that the window was a blind spot for anyone.

We have been sitting in our position for almost ten minutes, so I figure that it was clear to get back up and make sure that he had left. I got up and looked out the window, I can’t see anything, but then as I was about to get Amanda, the man put his head through one of the holes in the boarded windows and tried to grab me, I scream, immediatly Amanda got up and smashed his hand with the hammer. I helped Amanda get up and helped her limp out of the house. But as we got out of the house, the man came around the corner, forcing us to take another route.

We didn’t get far until Amanda couldn’t go any farther. Her ankle was finally hurting more than she could bare. She fell to the ground, with the guy only a few yards away, I tried to get her back up but she couldn’t. She tries to tell me to leave her, but that wasn’t an option. “I will die with you before I leave you.” I got ready for the battle of my lifetime!



I was scared to death as Amanda grabbed my hand through the window. My heart was racing faster than it ever has. I would never imagine someone reaching through a window and grabbing me.
At first, I thought she was trying to scare me, but the whole time that I stared at her through the window she refused to stop screaming, with tears rolling down her cheeks. She was completely shattered with what ever happened out there, tonight. That’s when I figured that this was probably serious.

I hurried to the door and opened it to comfort her as much as I could, asking her if she was okay, in which she said no as she cried harder. I walked her over to the couch that and asked her to talk to me about what happened. We sat there for a few minutes, before finally she snorted the snot back into her nose and began to tell the story: 

They were running low on their only bottle of UV Blue that she had bought for quarters. She didn’t want to give up the game because of the loss of alcohol, so she told everyone that her and Alex (Her boyfriend) would be back in a few. They left in Alex’s small crap Ford Taurus. They forgot that it was a ten minute drive there and ten back, so they tried to speed their way through the time. They got their within five minutes, got the booze, and started to head back to the country home. But as they came around the old prison site, A man started to follow them. Amanda said that at first they were worried about it being a cop since Alex was smashed while driving, they feared they were swerving too much. That wasn’t the case though, the guy behind them started to go really fast, and got on the side of their car, he began to turn into the lane forcing the car off the road. Amanda was screaming at the truck to quit being a prick, but he did it again.

This time Alex lost control of the car and ended up in a ditch. The truck, the old man was driving, stopped instantly and he got out. No one was injured in the wreck, Alex jumped out of the car acting big and bad, an attitude that he has most of the time, but as Alex got closer he realized the old man had a shovel in his hand. This pumped Alex up even more, to the point that Alex swung on the old man. He missed and went straight pass the man and on to the ground. The old man showed no remorse and he walked over to the drunk teen and stomped on his head.

Amanda is now hyperventilating as she is telling me the fully story. She left him in the middle of the road with that man standing over him, she though that he had been dead from the big steel-toed-boots landing against his temple. “He would have wanted me to run back to safety anyways.” She mumbled through the saliva that she was producing through the sobbing. I am holding on tightly to her, trying to convince her that it isn’t her fault, agreeing that she did the right thing. As she was crying violently on my shoulder, I asked her what this creep looked like.

She stops sobbing for a few seconds with a concentrated look on her face, I figured she must have not been able to see him very well, but as I started to doubt, she begins to pour out details so clear, it felt as if I was there in front of him. He was an old man that had really scruffy facial hair, if she would say so, he hadn’t showered in days. He looked homeless with his dirty shirt and ripped overalls. She tells me that he was injured. He had cuts on his face, cuts that seemed to be made by a knife, and that he was bleeding from the arms, to the extent that he was dripping blood on the ground as he walked towards them.

She stops for a few seconds to stop herself from crying for a few more seconds, then continues to tell me that he was missing all of his teeth, that he might have had one or two, but they were rotted and that as he stomped on his head he let a sick laugh that you would only hear in a home for crazy people, leaving chills down her spines as she was frozen watching her man quit moving and as she ran away.

I have no idea on how to comfort her at this point, what she saw tonight was more than anyone could handle. I know if it was me, I wouldn’t be able to find my way back to this home, let alone run away from this man.

“Lets just thank God that he didn’t follow you back.” I attempt to make her feel better, but this didn’t work, she digs her head deeper into my shoulder and cries louder than ever before.

“Yes, Let’s be glad the man didn’t follow you home, to the only other house in this territory.” The head of a shovel clanks against the wood floor. I turn around to see this man, a man that looks exactly as she described him. He was holding a bloody shovel smiling big at me. Amanda turns around as she heard the man, and jumps back screaming “That is the man, the man that killed Alex!” He let a dark laugh out and squinted. “Now it’s your turn!”  I jump off the couch. As we got off the couch though, the man begins to charge at us.





    I posted a Challenge on Facebook, yesterday. The rules were simple; if I got a certain amount of likes and comments, I would inform you guys of my crazy, yet fun, Friday night. With the criteria being made, I will spend time writing that post, tomorrow, and it will go up tomorrow night.
    This story involves my job and a genius mind. In the face of trouble. What would you do? Would you run and hide, or would you do what it takes to get things done?
    I am still uncertain with what consequences this story might bring, but it’s too funny to not tell. I am sure that it won’t draw too much attention, but if it does, I will need donations for rent….
    Other than that, I hope you guys are having a great finals night. Tonight, I predict that the GSW will cap off the series, defeating Cleveland, and holding a back-to-back championship. The score will be within 15 points, meaning no blowout. Curry will come alive, Thompson will have 20+ points, Andre will start and hold Lebron to within 20+, finally the MVP will be *drum rolls* Clay Thompson or Shaun Livingston!!!!!!!!!
I am no genius, so please don’t quote me on anything. I maybe watch 10 games out of the season, but it’s fun to make up a whole bunch of shit…haha

So anyways, I wanted to tell you, that I will be posting that story tomorrow. It could come up a little later, but it will be up tomorrow. Until then, get some rest, enjoy this weather, and have a beautiful night 🙂 I love you, beautifuls


When I first found out, I was nervous. I was nearly 20, and was just starting my life when I found out she was pregnant. She was a beautiful blonde hair girl, she had a shining smile, a soft voice and held herself very high. No one was going to take this girl down, no one with a boulder or with a chainsaw, she was unbeatable. This is the time of my life that I don’t want to give up, these are qualities that keep me searching for answers to the questions “Why did it happen?” and “Will I ever be happy again?” These questions will never be answered, because no one knows why, and she was the only happiness that I had. She is gone now, she isnt coming back, ever, but why do I blame myself?
I fight with myself every night, trying to force myself to believe the lies, that she was sick, and that she didn’t have that long to live. It is hard to give into those thoughts, especially when she felt so alive. She was always full of so much energy, but in a months time, all that energy was gone. She was rotting away, and here I was sitting around thinking she was going to be fine. I truly thought that she was going to fight back and win, but the longer the fight lasted, the quicker her strength failed her. It wasn’t long after the doctors announcement that she was found dead, on the kitchen floor.
I had to be the one to find her, I had to be the first to grab her cold body. The pain that came with seeing her was breathtaking. I tried to revive her,  I really did, but she was gone. The saddest thing is that I couldn’t even call an ambulance. I was frozen to her, I was stuck to the lifeless body. I tried to let go, but something kept ahold of me. I couldn’t let go, I felt like giving up on holding her, was equivalent to giving up on us. I wasn’t going to give up on her, so why would I let go?
It finally came to me, she was gone. I had to let go, she was no longer with us. I couldn’t hold onto something that wasn’t here, I couldn’t do that to me, but also, if she was being held back because of me, I didn’t want to do that. She deserved to go to her special place, with all the pain on earth, how could I deny her peace? I couldn’t, and I didn’t. I let her go, I finally let her go. The cancer came in between us, the damn cancer came between us. I still sit here, in this wooden chair, waiting for her to come outside with a glass of sweet lemonade, but pain consumes me, when I realize she’s not coming out. The days aren’t the same anymore, she lays in the cemetery on the other side of town.
She was my Becky, she was the first love that I had, the only one that I have loved. She was taking from me too soon, but recently I have been thinking, what if I met up with her? What if she is still waiting for me at the door, I can’t keep her waiting. I have the solution.
With loneliness in his heart, George couldn’t live this life anymore. The counseling wasn’t working, he was seeing Becky in his mirrors, in the shower, and in his bed. The image of his wife was now a haunting memory, one that he no longer wanted to have. His obituary read this “I didn’t want to leave, but cancer can’t stand between us now.”


Impromtdude @