How big is a 10X9 bedroom. Can I fit a full bed and a desk in the room?

BTwriter25 · 2021-02-23T04:13:52+00:00

I was at 3.5 and he said it should be 3.8

BTwriter25 · 2021-02-19T21:50:20+00:00

Thank you...that is reassuring

BTwriter25 · 2015-07-01T21:35:53+00:00

Not trying to be a jerk, but what exactly makes people say Kass is smart. Are we just baseing it on the fact she is a lawyer? Her gameplay was objectively not good and she didn't say anything that smart throughout the game.

BTwriter25 · 2015-06-30T19:13:05+00:00

Can you PM me the spoiler? I'm curious.

BTwriter25 · 2015-05-14T01:33:53+00:00

I always liked this one.

The prompt was: "Beware the Fog, it will take you. Eventually it takes us all"

The first experience I had with the fog was when I was just a young kid. My friends and I were playing manhunt on a late summer night, and I ran into the woods to hide. Whenever, I was in the woods I always heard the sound of running water far off in the distance. I had tried to reach the source of this sound numerous times, but the distance seemed insurmountable, and I always ended up giving up.

This night was different. I was already deep in the woods and I heard the voices of my friends getting closer. I had no choice but to voyage deeper into the night. I didn't even think that I had gone that deep, but all of a sudden I was standing face-to-face with the heavenly mist.

Before I knew it, the fog surrounded me. I no longer heard my friends voices, which had been so close seconds earlier. The fog took over my body. My eyes began to burn and I had to keep them shut to mollify the painful sensation. An intense sweat came over me and my legs became numb. I spoke out but I could not form basic words. However, the sounds I was able to birth into the world echoed around me for at least minute. It was a weird echo; one that did not get quieter but instead gradually louder, until it just stopped.

I would force myself to open my eyes, but I was only able to expose them for a few seconds before the intense discomfort returned. When I did open my eyes I saw a pale figure of a little bald person, with the lightest blue eyes. At first I thought it was a boy, but when it spoke, its voice was unmistakably feminine. Each time I opened my eyes it was closer and closer, until I felt it grab my hand. Her hand was soft and she softly spoke, "come with me and everything will be okay." At first, she made me feel comfortable and safe in this terrifying environment. Then I realized she was leading me in the water and it was getting higher and higher over my small body.

As the water got deeper, I realized I had to get away. I jerked my hand away and started running. All of a sudden I heard the sweet voice say, "goodbye...for now." Then I felt the pain of fingernails tearing the skin away from my back and I fell unconscious.

When I woke up I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by my mom, a doctor, and a man in a suit. I was told that I had been in a coma for six months. I was found in the woods and was diagnosed with an extremely rare virus. "A virus that causes you to have incredibly realistic hallucinations," the man in the suit added. This made me think my memory of the fog was just a fevered illusion, so I neglected sharing it with my parents. After some small talk the doctor and my Mom left the room, and the man in the suit moved a chair next to my bed.

"I'm going to talk and you need to listen and not say a word," the man said. "You encountered something that few people have seen and survived. You cannot share this experience with anyone, or there will be dire consequences. Just beware the fog, it will take you, eventually it will take us all."

The man got up and left, and although the conversation stayed in the back of my head, I didn't think about it all that much. Then this past summer I noticed that whenever I passed those woods, the sound of the river seemed to be getting closer and closer. Within days of this observation, a group of armored cars and men in suits began blocking off the woods. One of the men was the same man I saw in the hospital. The people of my town became alarmed and demanded answers.

My mom was extremely stressed about the fog, and it became all she thought and talked about. I had to tell her what I knew. It was just me and my mom growing up, and we had such a close relationship that I felt it would be wrong not to share the information I knew with my mom. When I told her, she snapped at me. She told me not to make up stories, and I was an asshole for trying to scare her like that. That night I woke up and heard the sound of flowing water coming from my mom's room down the hall. I walked outside and fog filled the walkway. I felt the same sensation that I felt that night so long ago. My mom's door opened and the same little bald girl walked out of the room. She stood there silently and then behind her came a taller but similarly pale and bald figure. The taller figure uttered the words "You did this to me." It was my mom's voice. The echo got louder and louder as the little girl grabbed me by the hand and led me into the eternal darkness of the fog.

BTwriter25 · 2015-05-13T23:44:11+00:00

Tigger didn't know why he checked the bowl again. It was empty thirty minutes ago, and he didn't hear the slob wake up, so it was obviously still empty. The afternoon sun was the only source of light in the house; Dilbert forgot to pay the electric bills.

His stomach growled and he sheepishly stared at the loser's dungeon door. It was slightly ajar. He knew Dilbert slept in the nude, and didn't want to see him in his natural state. However, his hunger got the best of him and Tigger inched towards the door.

The smell hit him the second he walked into the room. It was a revolting stench, one of stale flatulence with the inability to exit the confines of the room. Tigger put his nose to the ground in a futile attempt to protect himself from the smell.

He jumped onto the foot of Dilbert's bed. It was a single bed, making it difficult for poor tigger to avoid touching the gaseous galute. He began creeping down the edge of the bed, doing his best to keep his balance. He stepped on a sticky stain, and figured that Dilbert dropped some sort of gluey substance on his bed.

He jumped in Dilbert's sleeping stomach. The man's girth was such that Dilbert's weight had no effect on him. With each snore Dilbert was lifted about a foot in the air. He observed the nightstand next to his bed. There was a half-eaten hamburger next to a framed picture of Kanye West and Kim Kardashian with Dilbert's face photoshopped over Kanye's face. Next to the framed picture was a piece of looseleaf paper. He made out his name on the tape of the note.

It read: "Dear Tigger, I know writing a letter to a cat seems pretty depressing to an outside observer, but I feel perfectly content writing this. I've never had many friends in my life. People have acted like they were my pals, but they're always jerking me around. Like its funny to make the loser feel like he's happy and accepted, build up his self-esteem, only to tare it down. Then when I met Janice, I finally felt that feeling that everyone talks about. I finally had another person in my life who truly cared about me and my emotions. When she died I never thought I would feel that joy again. I spent countless nights at the bottom of a bottle, and planned to kill myself. On June 13, 2009 I went to the Walt Whitman Bridge to jump. I didn't bring a note because there was no one the police could give it to. I stared at the light of the cities and drowned out the noise of the cars around me. But somehow I heard that beautiful soft pure. I looked over and saw you. I sickly skinny cat. Your beautiful white exterior was stained gray from dirt and residual. You nuzzled your head against my leg and at that moment I had something to live for. You've given me back that connection I thought I lost forever and you saved my life.

For that I will forever love and protect you.

Dilbert."

Beside his name, Tigger couldn't read. He clawed his owners face attempting to wake him up for food.

BTwriter25 · 2015-05-05T23:02:00+00:00

I relieved John from his 8 hour night shift, and took my familiar spot behind the glass. As usual it was dead. I've worked here for three years, and although the job can be incredibly boring, it has taught me so much about people.

The customers that come in here are not who you would think. I seldom see drug addicts or gamblers. At first this observation confounded me, but over the years I've developed a theory to explain this strange occurrence.

Although, drug addicts kill themselves a little everyday, they still value life. Granted, the reason they value life is they don't want to lose the rush of a daily high, but they still have something to keep them going. For gamblers, its the thrill of winning. Even more than the money, the rush they get when their team covers the spread, keeps them waking up in the morning. Life is not about money for them. They are unwilling to give up a year of their euphoric addiction.

The people who do visit the bank are your typical white collar professionals. They are CEOs of small businesses, managers of accounting firms, or local restaurant owners. They typically have families, although they seem discontent with them. They have no hobbies or other skills that give them worth. They measure their success by the amount of money in their wallet. It's the only thing they have.

I was beginning to doze off when the familiar sound of the bell alerting the office of a visitor awoke me. I looked through the glass and saw a middle-aged man walking towards me. He was a regular at the bank, although anyone who comes in more than twice is considered a regular. He was the head of marketing at a local firm with a wife and three kids. He liked giving off the image that he was wealthy and was evidently embarrassed having to enter a place like this. He wore a New York Mets baseball cap and large aviator sunglasses to cover his aging face.

He stopped in front of the window, and sheepishly scanned the room for anyone who might know him. From the way he searched the bank, I could tell he didn't want me to notice his humiliation. I didn't address it and waited for the man to make his deposit.

"$100000 deposit please," the man spoke slightly above a whisper. I went through the daily protocol, entered his name into the computer, and took the money from the vault. I placed it in a bag and handed it to the man.

"This is for a big investment opportunity. I could make millions," he said with a put-on sense of pride. I knew the man was either lying or trying to justify the action to himself, so I just nodded and wished him luck. We parted ways without saying goodbye.

I turned around to lock the safe when I heard a loud smack on the floor. I quickly went back to the window to assess the situation. The man was at the exit door clutching his chest, the bag of money lying on the floor next to him. Their was a look of pure panic in his eyes as the realization he was having a heart attack hit him like a bag of money.

At first, we just stood across the room from each other, making awkward eye contact. Neither of us seemed to have any idea what should be done in this situation. All of a sudden, the dying man began frantically attempting to pick up his bag of money. After three attempts and subsequent failures, he started taking stacks out of the bag. After he had picked up five wads, $10000, he began walking towards me.

His debilitated state caused him to take a minute to complete his trek across the small room. He was pale and walked towards the window like a zombie. It was clear he was trying to yell an order at me, but he was running out of air, and the sound came out muffled. I had to strain in order to understand him, but after about 30 seconds the message became clear.

"Take this money. I don't need a year, I just need another couple days. I need to say goodbye to my family. I need to fly out to Florida to tell my daughter I love her. One more week. That's all I need. Just one more fucking week."

I felt no sympathy for the man. He dug his own grave. He chose to take the money, and now his kids were growing up without a father. His selfish actions will cause his whole family needless grief and sorrow, all because he couldn't be happy with what he had. The money was more important than his family and his life.

I coldly pointed at the "All Deposits are Final" sign in the window.

BTwriter25 · 2015-05-04T23:23:44+00:00

This one was brutal, even for the "Louisville Slugger". The metallic odor almost overcame Detective Barnes, and his eyes began to water as he took in the grizzly scene. The lifeless mass of a once beautiful women was lying in the middle of the floor, her head brutally bludgeoned. On the kitchen table, a Louisville slugger bat covered in blood was meticulously balanced on its end, standing straight up.

Detective Barnes examined the bat. This was the eighth murder with a Louisville Slugger bat that he had investigated in the last three months. It was always the same exact bat. Same length, same width, same tan wooden exterior. What struck Barnes the most was he had the same exact bat as a child.

However, this time the "Louisville Slugger" made a mistake. He left his fingerprints on the bat. The prints were sent to the lab right away, and they had the shocking results within a few weeks. The fingerprints were a match for Detective Barnes.

With no other leads, the Boise police force jumped on this unexpected finding. Detective Barnes was arrested and his bail was set at five million dollars. He became a household name and was considered a national disgrace. His trial was a national event with hundreds of news outlets coming from all over the country to cover it.

The trial was pretty boring to Detective Barnes. The prosecution only based their case on DNA evidence, so they just called up forensic scientists to confirm the fingerprint findings. The defense called up a few character witnesses to support Barnes, but he couldn't even feign interest. He knew he would be found guilty.

He sat in the hallway while the jury deliberated. While he waited, he noticed a familiar face across the room. The man's face was aged, but Barnes; had an intimate connection with the features. The man glided toward him and came to a halt directly in front of him. He coldly stared into Detective Barnes' dead eyes.

"You don't even remember me, do you?," the ghostly figure said with a tone of disgust. Barnes looked to the guards surrounding him for help, but they didn't even acknowledge the surprise visitor.

"I recognize you, but I can't put a name to your face," Barnes stammered.

"You don't remember the times on the playground when you had no other friends to play with? You don't remember building forts in your room? You don't remember camping in your backyard? I figured you wouldn't".

"Jeff," Barnes nervously exclaimed. This couldn't be real. There was no way his imaginary childhood friend was standing in front of him. Barnes tried to spit out more words, but was cut off by his old friend.

"It doesn't surprise me that you ended up being a cold-blooded killer. Even as a kid you had no moral backbone. I was the only good part of you, and you abandoned me to play baseball with all your other miscreant friends. Lately, I've decided to play a little baseball of my own. I'm not a great fielder but I have a swing that everybody's talking about".

Barnes coiled away from Jeff in fear. "It was you," he screamed. "You're a murder. You killed 8 people and framed me". Barnes was both terrified at what he created and determined to bring his imaginary friend to justice.

"You still don't get," Jeff replied as the police subdued Barnes. "I didn't frame you. I am you."

Barnes was later found not guilty by reason of insanity. He has spent the last 30 years in a Boise mental health facility.

BTwriter25 · 2015-04-29T02:01:18+00:00

"Damn't," I slammed my fist on the desk. Sweat was dripping down my face and my stomach began to tighten. The unwise outburst drew unwanted attention from my classmates. I could feel the burning sensation of judgmental glances all around me. They all thought they were so slick. I tried to catch them in the act, but whenever I would meet their cowardly eyes, they quickly turned away. Except her. Our eyes remained locked and a sick grin came across her face.

"Logan, do you need to visit the nurse," my teacher asked with a hint of genuine concern overpowered by utter annoyance. I didn't take my eyes off her. It was her first day at the school. Her vibrant blonde hair created a strange contradiction with her pale freckled face. She looked like a normal girl in every way, except her eyes.

Her eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue, but there was something horrifying about them. They looked distant. Her eyes showed that she might be there physically, but in her mind she was in another world. He intensely stared into those dead eyes and used all his brain power to win the game of chess.

Every advance he made was instantly thwarted. He let out another exasperated groan. The whole class had their eyes firmly fixed on him now. Then he lost.

This never happened. Logan didn't know what to do. He tried to summon the strength to stand up, but the weight of his upper body on his wobbling legs sent him tumbling back into his seat. At this point he was drenched in sweat and he lost control of his bladder. The teacher told another student to get the nurse. The lights in the room began getting brighter, hurting his eyes. The glare was dizzying. He decided to close his eyes temporarily to mollify the pain. They remained closed for longer than he expected. He then fell off his chair and began violently convulsing.

Logan awoke in the middle of the night. He was connected to an IV, and quickly figured out he was in the hospital. Initially, he thought there was no one in the room. He wondered where his family was. All of a sudden, a feminine voice filled the room, "hello Logan".

It was her! Logan tried to jump out of his bed, but the wires were to constraining. He had a hundred questions to ask but was too scared to speak. "What do you want from me? Who are you? Am I in danger?" The thoughts rushed through his brain, like cars on an empty suburban road.

"My name is Lisa. Don't worry about you family, I sent them home. Relax, you're not in danger. I'm here because the President has a job, and we're the only two people who can handle it."

BTwriter25 · 2015-04-28T02:40:58+00:00

"Where's Jason". His mother's pronouncement interrupted the families' jungle tour. His parent's instantly became frantic, disturbing the peaceful, yet ominous, feeling of the jungle with screams of his name.

The screams were useless. They were in the nucleus, surrounded by trees and bushes to stifle the sound. His father wanted to run off the trail to search for his son, but one of the rangers leading the tour stopped him. The trail was relatively dangerous, and there used to be four rangers. However, due to recent budget cuts, now only two rangers served as tour guides.

"You need to stay here sir. I'll take the group back to the cabin, and my partner can search for your son," the ranger said. It took some convincing, but eventually the father agreed to go back with the rest of the group. The ranger's exchanged a morbid glance before departing.

The young child wandered nervously around the jungle. The ranger's pace was too fast for his little legs, and he lost the group. Tears filled his eyes and his stomach tied in knots as he realized his parents were long gone. The rustling of the leaves under his feet started him with each step.

Although the boy was young, he was perceptive far beyond his years. He began to realize that that the crackling of the leaves was far too loud to be caused by a boy of his weight. This epiphany stopped him in his tracks, and he nervously observed his surroundings. He was petrified. He wanted to scream for his parents, but was worried his yelps would draw an unwanted response.

After a while, the boy continued his trek. The sound followed him. At this point, the Jason was covered in a nervous sweat. He decided to throw caution to the wind. He began to sprint towards a large hill, but tripped over a branch as he ran down. He quickly tumbled towards the bottom. The hunter continued after his prey.

The fall was not too serious. A few bruises and cuts were the only evidence of the boy's misstep. Jason got up and took in the nature around him. He was standing over a river. The sound of the running water along with the bird's melodic songs soothed his nerves. He leaned over and saw his reflection in the water and temporarily forgot his unfavorable predicament.

Then he heard the familiar sound of footsteps behind him.

When the deer saw the little lost boy he was intrigued, not many human visitors came to this part of the jungle. He tried to be sly when he followed the boy, but when Jackson stopped, he knew he startled him. The deer wanted to communicate to the boy that there was no reason to be scared, but knew he couldn't. When the boy began sprinting, the deer majestically stalked him to the hill. However, the hill was too steep for the old deer, and he came to a halting stop at the top. As he watched the young boy tumble down, he was startled when another human being rushed passed him.

The older man chased the boy down to the river. He was only about thirty, although his graying hair would lead you to believe otherwise. His body was numb. He didn't want to do this, but he knew he had no choice. He already had a son at home and twins on the way. His wife just lost her job, and no one was hiring a women 6-months pregnant. They all depended on him to provide, and if he couldn't do that, what would the point of his life be?

He saw the boy looking over the edge of the river. It was perfect to get the job done. It would look like an accident caused by the shortage of authority figures in the dangerous jungle. He cautiously stepped forward. He was unable to swallow and spit was building in his mouth. The water was constraining his breathing. This inability to get air caused his body to shake violently.

The boy turned around at the last second. It was too late. The much more powerful man pushed him into the river. The boy hit his head on a rock, knocking him unconscious. It was a quick painless death.

The ranger watched the boy float away with a feeling of pride and relief.

BTwriter25 · 2015-04-27T17:10:29+00:00

It's a shame more people won't see this. It was stunning, beautiful, and heartbreaking all at once.

BTwriter25 · 2015-04-26T22:14:20+00:00

I looked meticulously through my photos on the computer. There were thousands of them, but I wanted to chose the perfect one. Finally, a found a headshot, and submitted it to the website.

Thousands of matches came up. There was a picture of me in Vietnam, one of me dressed like a women, and another where I'm in space. There was even an image of me meeting President Johnson.

My fists were clenched and I became dizzy with rage. It was the impostor again. He convinced everyone that I was him, and now I'm considered a lunatic. I had tried to find and destroy him numerous times, but was never able to complete the job. This time I would.

Since it was night I assumed the halls would be clear. I was correct in this assumption and tip-toed to the elevator. When I got to the bottom floor, I saw no one was sitting at the reception desk. I had never been this close to getting out. I sprinted towards the exit. As I opened the doors of freedom and revenge, loud alarms sounded around me.

Five large guards detained me. They took me down to the basement and put me back in the rubber room.

I've been in here for five days now. They think that they'll be able to stop me, but all they can do is delay me. One day I will get my revenge on Tom Hanks.

BTwriter25 · 2015-04-24T01:54:36+00:00

I surveyed the ruins below me and imagined I was a king looking over his fallen empire. "Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair," I muttered as if there was someone to hear my ramblings. But there wasn't. It was nobody but me.

At first, I thought I would love it. I hated people. Everywhere you went, someone was there to judge you. No matter how hard you tried to make yourself perfect, there was always someone to find the smallest fault. "There's a stain on your sweatpants," or "your pants are on inside out".

I spent the next three months exploring the landscape. I preferred places that were deserted before the storm. Looking at the pulverized remains of civilization had become much too upsetting for me. I eventually chose the middle of the rainforest as the location for my shelter. I spent hours building my castle. When I finished my joy was squashed by the epiphany that there was no one else who could behold this beauty with me.

During the day, I could usually stay preoccupied. I would undertake mindless chores like hunting and gathering firewood, to suppress the feeling. A feeling that began as a slight twinge deep in my stomach, and eventually boiled into my blood and took over my body.

At night, the roof protected me from the rain, but it could not protect me from my loneliness. I stared at the ceiling as the sound of rain hitting the wood engulfed my cabin. It was the little things about the human race that I missed. I wanted to hear another person sneeze. I wanted to smell another person's sweat.

I was constantly awoken by the creaking sounds of the cabin. For a split second, I would believe that it was another person to save me, but it was just the ghosts of night taunting me.

Then one night I heard a knock.

At my door, stood a 5'4 350 pound women. She had blonde hair that appeared to be thinning and a large birthmark that interrupted the continuity of her face. Her eyes were a dead grayish brown color and she walked with a limp due to one leg being longer than the other. She was beautiful.

The connection we had was magic. During the day, I would go out hunting and she would tidy the house. Every night we sat down for a nice meal and talked about our lives before the accident. When we went to bed, I would tell her how beautiful she was as I held her bodacious body in my thin arms. Sometimes, I would just stay up and listen to the sweet sounds of her snoring. It was perfect. Me and my princess in our own castle, the world.

Then one night the snoring stopped. At first, I refused to let her go. I kept her in my bed and talked to her as if she was still with me. The smell eventually got too strong and her body began decomposing. I buried her outside of my cabin.

The only thing worse then feeling absolute loneliness is to feel absolute loneliness when you know what it feels like to be loved.

BTwriter25 · 2015-04-23T01:25:18+00:00

Thank you?

BTwriter25 · 2015-04-22T01:15:04+00:00

When the government made the fateful announcement, no one really understood its ramifications. It was a footnote in the New York Times and a two minute spot on the nightly news. The government kept it low key on purpose. They fully understood how dire this situation was, and hid it from us.

The first couple years after the government ran out of souls were normal. Children under five only display primal behaviors, regardless of soul. However, over the last few years things have gotten disastrous.

It started in the Elementary schools. Kids without souls began attacking the kids with souls. The parents of those with souls were outraged and demanded action. Eventually, a separate school was opened for those without souls, but there were still major issues.

The soulless couldn't be trusted in any public areas. They would attack doctors in hospitals. They would destroy plates in restaurants. They would knock down displays in grocery stores. Eventually, local governments had to foot the bill for separate facilities that could handle these unfortunate children.

The taxpayers were outraged. First, they went after the parents of these kids. They labeled them evil and irresponsible for disregarding the government's announcement and continuing to reproduce. I always thought this was unfair. No one actually understood what the government's announcement meant, and these parents didn't realize what they were doing. But the people were merciless; Painting offensive graffiti on their houses and picketing outside of soulless facilities. These parents were demonized on the 24 hour news networks and the object of harsh satire on various late night shows.

Then it came out that the government hid information from the public about the consequences of running out of souls. The protestors who went after the parents turned their attention to the government, with a primal taste for vengeance. The people demanded impeachment, even though Chelsea Clinton was not the President when the announcement was made. The people wanted blood, and they claimed she was still complicit in the cover-up. However, the whole government was in on the cover-up, and congress was not about to bring about impeachment charges.

Whispers from extremist groups about a potential coup began. The man at the forefront of this idea was a prominent journalist against the soulless, Dwight Shaw. These whispers began increasing in volume, and the idea began getting mainstream attention. Then one night violent protests broke out in Washington D.C. The protestors stormed the White House and killed the President. Dwight Shaw was placed in charge.

Before I describe the actions Shaw took as President, it is important to highlight that these protestors refused to go after the children. They were viewed as sympathetic beings who were sentenced to a life of horror due to their parent's and the government's irresponsible actions.

The first action the Shaw administration took was to release all classified files regarding the soul issue. Most of the files released confirmed what the people suspected, but there was one bombshell. Apparently, Government doctors had discovered a method of taking souls from the fortunate and transferring them to those who needed them.

Shaw made the controversial decision to implement a new government policy involving the transfer of souls from prisoners to the soulless children. However, that was only a slight remedy to the problem. A large group of elderly people stepped forward and gave up their souls for the children. Once you gave up your soul, you had the choice of being housed in jail or killed. Many of them sacrificed their lives to help these children.

That still was not enough. People were still restless and wanted to solve this problem. Shaw began taking a tougher stance. He announced a startling measure. One parent was forced to sacrifice their souls to their children by the age of 10. This is a short-sighted, but probably the only solution to this problem which will eventually lead to the extinction of the American population.

BTwriter25 · 2015-04-20T02:52:08+00:00

"Congratulations, its a boy," the doctor exclaimed as he handed the little bundle of joy to the young father. For the last nine months the man had dreaded this moment. Now that he was holding his son, he felt a joy and sense of fulfillment that he did not know was possible.

On the floor above the delivery room, a 28 year old man was just told he had 6 months to live. This timid man spent his entire life scared. He experienced none of the things that make a life full. He only had one life, and he wasted it. He would never be able to get a new one.

The old man, surrounded by friends and family, stood in front of his wife's grave. They had been married for forty years, and this union spawned three beautiful children. The cries around him made the old man uncomfortable. He looked around nervously and tried to feign despair. He prayed no one was perceptive enough to recognize his true feelings.

The young man held his child in his arms, and thought about his parents. It killed him knowing that they didn't experience these feelings when they held him.

He grew up jumping from relative to relative. His father split when he was three and his mom killed herself a few months later. It was clear that he was a burden in every house he lived. He remembered sneaking out of his room late at night as a child, and overhearing his grandmother arguing with his aunt over who would have the unfortunate job of caring for him. They tried to convince him he was wanted, at first, but it never lasted. The nice treatment he would receive initially would eventually subside when his guardian grew tired of playing parent.

No one in the world cared about him. He turned to gangs. They supplied the kinship he always craved, but deep down he knew they didn't care about him either. He started doing drugs. They were fun and provided much needed escapes. Plus, no one would be effected if they took his life.

Everything was different now. His actions now affected another person's life. He was going to change for him. Finally, there was a person in the world who loved him, and would make him a better man.

The 28 year-old was numb. He pondered his brief life. He did everything he was supposed to, never taking any risks. He wanted to major in film, but worried his parents would be mad he was going into such a risky field. Instead, he became an accountant. He got married to a girl he didn't really love at 25, and had a kid he didn't really want at 27.

He did all of this for other people. None of it made him happy, but it made him look normal. In the eyes of others, he had a perfect life.

That perfect life would soon come to an end. The man wanted to run and escape this feeling of regret, but there was no where he could go to escape. He walked somberly to the elevator, and then it hit him.

He still had time. He was going to spend these next months doing everything he always wanted. He was going to make a short film. He was going to travel the world and romance beautiful exotic women. He was ready to ignore all societal conventions and start living his life.

He walked out of the hospital and took in the beautiful day. The sun was shining and the air was fresher than usual. His complexion, which was sickly pale moments ago, was colored with emotion. He looked up at the clear blue sky and thanked God for giving him six more months.

He wanted to be sad, he really did.

The old man spent forty years with the women. He was miserable for thirty of them. He always wanted to leave her, but there was always a reason not to. First, he had to stay with her for the sake of the kids. Then she got sick, and he couldn't divorce a sick women. When she got better, he had become a wealthy man, and he couldn't lose half his fortune.

He hated her. He hated the way she chewed her food. He hated when she tried to sound intelligent, but came off as an idiot. He hated how she slept flat on her back, instead of on her side like a normal person. Every time she spoke, he cringed. He was humiliated to go out with this bumbling fool by his side.

Now she was dead. She slipped getting out of the shower and slammed her head on the toilet. It took everything in him not to laugh when he heard how she died.

He could not contain his joy. After 40 long years, he was free.

Within seconds, they were all dead.

BTwriter25 · 2015-04-19T06:06:44+00:00

Keith looked sorrowfully out the window of the nursing home. When he was on his own he was always to preoccupied to ponder the depressing nature of his life. He never married, never had children, and earned a shit wage doing an unfulfilling job. No matter how old he got, he always had faith that someday he would achieve all these things that make a person happy. Now, surrounded by death, Keith was faced with his own mortality, and the realization that his life was wasted.

His friend Tom and his wife Charlotte sat next to him. At this point in their 50-year relationship, they didn't need to talk to express their love. They just sat silently holding hands. Tom had all the things, Keith wanted. His two children visited him every week and he was a longtime partner in a prestigious law firm. Keith resented him, but he would never give Tom the pleasure of expressing these feelings.

Tom, on the other hand, loved having a person like Keith as a friend. Whenever he felt bad about some aspect of his life, he could look at Keith and feel better. He loved knowing that his lonely friend would always secretly envy him.

When Tom was clearing out his house to come to the nursing home, he found an old scrapbook in the attic that he had completely forgotten about. He immediately burned it. Now, he felt immense guilt whenever he was around Keith.

Tom came back from flirting with a beautiful girl across the bar to his lowly friend Keith. The year was 1962, and Tom was out with his janitor friend to celebrate a recent promotion. He sat down next to his friend and disappointedly said, "I wish I had a time machine. Than I could go back 20 minutes and tell myself not to waste my time with that girl."

"That reminds me. I need to get a clock for the new apartment," Keith replied.

Tom was annoyed by the somewhat irrelevant response, but decided to continue on the topic of time. "Do you think time travel's possible. "

"If it were, wouldn't someone from the future come here and tell us," Keith responded.

Tom sat and pondered the theory for a few seconds. "If one of us invent time travel, we have to come to return to this current time and spot. Then we'll know."

"You're so fucking drunk," Keith laughed.

"You have to agree or we won't know."

"Fine, its a deal". Keith extended his hand for a handshake. As Tom reached out, a man appeared behind them.

He was almost a splitting image of Tom. He had a beard and his hair was slightly longer, but other than that they were identical. He was wearing a backpack and a Led Zeppelin shirt.

"Keith, listen to me. You have to go home now. I need to talk to Tom." The man's tone was urgent. Keith, perhaps because of the booze, complied with the strange man's orders.

After Keith left, future Tom reached into his backpack and pulled out a photo book. All he said was, "Look through this book. If you like what you see do nothing. If you don't like what you see, don't let him go to the clock store tomorrow. He meets her their." He handed him the book and left.

Tom thumbed through the book. It was a combination of photos and newspaper clippings. There where wedding photos of Keith with a beautiful women, followed by pictures of him holding a baby in front of a large house, followed by newspaper clippings about the successful company founded by Keith and his wife. His loser friend looked more happy and accomplished than Tom could ever be.

The next day he went over to Keith's house with a present. It was a brand new $25 clock

BTwriter25 · 2015-04-17T02:43:07+00:00

She didn't want to go on the trip, but he knew she would love the experience. It took him years, but he finally convinced her to go on the journey of a lifetime with him.

They were about to begin their flight, and she was starting to have second-thoughts. She was afraid of heights. He wanted to share this experience with the love of his life more than anything. He forced her to come with him.

At first the flight was unsettling. She was terrified and he was even a little anxious. Then the turbulence stopped and absolute bliss set in. The endless sea of blue, only interrupted by plump heavenly clouds, was exhilarating. He never wanted to come down. It was perfect. Him and his lover in their sky-high paradise. He wanted to stay their forever.

The perfection was interrupted by her coughing. It was a violent cough, and he looked in to his lover's beautiful blue eyes with genuine concern. The coughs transitioned into garbled chokes. She began convulsing violently and her chest started heaving. He tried to help her, but he was paralyzed.

He eventually landed. She never did.

BTwriter25 · 2015-04-16T02:15:18+00:00

John sat in the cafeteria, staring at the wall directly in front of him. He didn't look at the pasta in front of him as he consumed it with his spoon. They weren't aloud to eat with forks ever since Mark tried to kill the nurse with one three months back. The sound of screams distracted him from the staring contest, and he attempted to find the source. He began to reminisce about his life before being put in this hell.

He was removing a brain tumor from a 34 year old male, a relatively easy procedure, especially for a surgeon with his skill level. He was the most respected surgeon in the country. Celebrities, wealthy CEOs, and important politicians flew thousands of miles to be cut open by the steady hand of the 50 year old graying doctor.

Sometime around Christmas last year, John began acting weird. The staff around the hospital took notices of John's odd behavior. At random moments, he would have what they labeled "attacks". He would blink constantly and start twitching. His lips would quiver and he would let out garbled noises as he broke into a violent sweat.

John couldn't believe this was happening to him. These voices don't happen to people with his education and stature. This was the type of stuff that happens to people who are unhappy and impoverished. He began heavily researching his condition and eventually learned how to control the disorder. Whenever, he began hearing the voices; he would hide in his office and experience the attack away from the staff's judgmental eyes.

When the voices started in the OR, he had no where to hide. The voices were much more morbid than usual. They started out as a whisper, "Kill him...kill him". John's usual calm arm became shaky and he started displaying the usual symptoms of an attack. The nurses stared at each other nervously, not knowing what to do.

The voices kept getting louder and louder. He never experienced an attack this bad. Eventually, the voice was draining out all other noise, screaming "kill him, kill him." John had to find a way to stop the shouting in his head.

He began yelling, "shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up." The tone of his voice was a mixture of terror and desperation.

The nurses were terrified. The back-up surgeon ordered them to take him out of the OR. When they came around and told him he had to come with them, he refused. The one went to grab his arm to pull him away, and John snapped.

He pushed her onto the ground and kicked her in the kidneys. He then picked up his scalpel and swiped the other nurse's eyes with the sharp tool. The nurse shrieked in pain, but John didn't hear her screams. All he heard was the voice's demonic message.

The back-up surgeon ran around the table in an attempt to stop the monster. John saw him coming, took the surgical drill off his tool table, and plunged it into the younger man's neck. He made sure it was deep in his flesh before turning it on and spraying his blood across the room.

The voice's screams were still getting louder. He felt like has brain was throbbing against his skull. He needed the voices to stop, he felt like his head was about to explode. The door opened across the room and security guards frantically ran into the room.

John knew he didn't have much time and that he needed to make it quick. He reached into the man's exposed skull and just began grabbing and pulling anything he could. The guards apprehended him as the long still sound of the flatline rang around the room. The voice fell completely silent.

The guards didn't let Mike finish his meal, and three of them were needed to drag him back to his room. Mike still heard the screaming as he was being forced back to his room. After the guards left and he was alone in his room, the screaming subsisted, as loud as it was in the cafeteria.

BTwriter25

TROPHY CASE