Revenge - May 10, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "revenge". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]

Revenge- Squiddy Geiger - May 10, 2012

Shock and dismay
Disappointment and anger
Feeling betrayed
Heartsick, despondent.

So many years together
Shared goals and compromise
All thrown away with - it appears
Without a single regret.

The anger and resentment
Fester inside, growing still
Until finally one night as you
Lie in bed, an idea comes to you

You reject it at first because
You aren't like that
Hurt and betrayed, yes but
You aren't like that

But as the time passes
A shift in your thinking
The plan becomes clearer
As you plot your revenge

Now that you've decided
Nothing else matters
You make plans and change plans
And change them again

The world takes notice
But thinks your cheerful smile
Is because you are over it
But that's part of your plan

You plot and you plot
And you know this is right
The day finally dawns
You spring the trap with glee

In the end you realize
It doesn't make things better
And now your friends
Are disappointed in you

Illicit - May 05, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "illicit". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]

Illicit- Squiddy Geiger - May 05, 2012

She smiled and nodded, radiant and full of joy whenever she was with him. She looked forward to her time with him, despite the circumstances. When their time together was over, she left reluctantly, counting the minutes to the following Wednesday encounter.

Her days were filled with daydreams about him. Dreams of him being able to spend more time with her. Dreams of truly being together. Dreams of a life in the open, without fear of discovery. She knew it was unlikely to happen, but still she dreamed.

The Handlers were efficient, and everywhere. It was a miracle Wednesdays happened at all. They had appointments in the same building, and had arranged for them to be extended, at least on paper. Their therapists understood, and encouraged the relationship. Yes, they paid for a double session each that didn't actually happen, but it was worth it. If the Handlers discovered the deception, it would mean ruin for her, and prison for him.

She was a Synth. Human and Synth relationships were forbidden, but how could they resist? They both felt it. She'd see him at functions where mixing was acceptable, but the Law forbade touching, unless it was required to prevent injury or death.

He had a plan, though. There was no way to tell a Synth from a Human; the tattoo on a Synth's hand was the only way. He said he knew someone who could remove her tattoo. For a price, of course. With that, and forged documents, they could leave the country, and head to a country that did not outlaw their relationship.

It was not her fault that her parents were scientists in a lab, and she'd started life in a dish. She was as human as anyone else. If she could escape to Europe, she could live freely, and marry him. It was their shared dream. But first, they had to save up the money. And stay undiscovered, of course.

The need for secrecy was stressful, but almost two years of this, she was something of an expert at it. At teh beginning, she'd made mistakes, but had been fortunate that those she was speaking with hadn't noticed. He was just as stressed, but thought they should have enough money in another six months.

Until then, she would keep her head down, and the facade up.

Lost - May 04, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "lost". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]

Lost- Squiddy Geiger - May 04, 2012

"Dammit!" she thought, as she rummaged through the apartment, searching. It had to be here somewhere, but where? She searched each room quickly, one after the other, in desperation, but did not find it.

She wasn't prepared to go without. People would notice. They always did, when someone lost it. Misplaced it, she corrected herself. She hadn't lost it, it was here, somewhere, and she would find it. She had to find it, there was no alternative.

Well, there was an alternative, of course. She could _not_ find it, and go through the rest of her life without it, taunted and teased, and snickered at behind her back. Her uncle had lost his, and never recovered from the loss. It had haunted him, and she did not want to end up like him. She couldn't face that, so she redoubled her efforts.

It wasn't in the house, so she ran to the garage to check there, realizing at the last moment that this house didn't have a garage. Heavens, it was happening already! She could feel it. She tried the garden shed instead. Thankfully, that was a real part of this property. Five minutes later, empty handed, she sighed.

It was time for work, and she wouldn't help anything by missing work, no matter how much she might feel like it right now. Depression was starting to displace her fear. She found her purse and keys, and went out front to the car. As she was about to start it, she heard a noise from the glove compartment, and opened it; she yelped happily as she caught her mind, and quickly restored it to its proper place.

Life was good, after all.

Flame - May 02, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "flame". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]

Flame- Squiddy Geiger - May 02, 2012

"The difference is, I'm also lazy." There was silence as after his declaration. He looked around.

"That's not exactly a revelation, Ted," Alana laughed. "We've known you a long time. And lazy isn't the right word. Selectively lazy, perhaps? When you like something and are interested, you'll go until you collapse."

Ted laughed and winked, "you should know, dear." Alana smiled, and the other two at the table also laughed. They finished their coffees and said goodnight, one couple taking their car, the other walking home.

Alana tested Ted as they walked. "You know what Saturday is, don't you?"

"Of course I do, it's the day after tomorrow," he replied, then laughed as she frowned at him. "And it's the fifteenth anniversary of our first date. Do you really think I'd forget that? Not a chance. Fifteen years, and I let six of them get away from me. How stupid was I?"

"Do you want me to answer that?" she asked him, laughing. She snuggled close as they walked.

"Well," he allowed, "I did let you get away for awhile, but I came to my senses and tracked you down." He shook his head. "and for nine years, you have been the single most important being in my universe." He made a face. "Uhhh, too sappy? Let me try again."

"No!" she commanded, laughing. "I like it when you get sappy. When Sally announced that my old flame was in town, and looking for me, I never thought we'd end up together. I was still mad at you."

"But I grew on you!"

"Yes," she laughed. "Doc McWilliams says he has something for that, though. So behave, or..."

"Yes, dear," he said as he kissed her. "I'm your old flame, your new flame, your forever flame." He smiled. "And don't you forget it..."

Spring - April 27, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "spring". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]

Spring- Squiddy Geiger - April 27, 2012

Yes, it's that time of year again. Spring. You know, the season everyone anticipates all winter, certain it will end their Winter Blues. The time housekeepers wait for so they can clean house, as if doing it daily isn't enough. The time when thoughts supposedly turn to romance and... other things.

Until, of course, reality sets in and the weather turns foul, and you get a month straight of overcast and rain. You know the sun is up there somewhere, you just can't see it. You vaguely remember it as round and warm, but see no evidence of its existence.

It's cold as hell in the morning when you leave for work, so you dress warmly. You wish for warmth but it never seems to arrive. The cold and rain drags on, and soon you're feeling more depressed than in the deepest darkest days of winter

And just when you think you can bear it no more, at last, the sun appears, and like magic, your mood lifts, and the world is right again. The sun shines, flowers blossom, your neighbours get rowdy on the balcony, and the world is as it should be.

Hollow - April 25, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "hollow". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]

Hollow- Squiddy Geiger - April 25, 2012

The page was empty. God, I hated that, but I loved it, too. The fear and dread of drawing a blank, mixed with the wonder of a completely open sheet, knowing your writing could take you anywhere; no boundaries had been set yet, anything and everything was still allowed.

Unfortunately, I was drawing a blank on this occasion. It didn't bother me as much as it used to, though. I used to get angry and frustrated when the words wouldn't come, but now, it was ok. I knew if I just let my mind wander for a bit, it would find something to start us off.

My thoughts flitted here and there, searching for inspiration. Nothing yet, move on, keep moving. Until they headed into more hazardous territory, and I was lost. Now I couldn't write, because I'd fallen into the pit, remembering a time long past. A time with her.

I wallowed in lost love. I gorged myself on self pity. I went over all I had lost when she left. She'd ripped my heart out, she'd stomped on it, and then kicked it into a corner. I suffered as I'd suffered then. I'd thought myself safe from this, but I'd been fooling myself.

After what seemed like hours, but proved to be less than one, I stared at the page again. It seemed to taunt me now. It dared me to find something to write about, but I could not. My mind was empty, my heart hollow and barren. I hated myself for feeling this way.

Then, my Muse spoke to me. I nodded, and smiled at her. This was it. I would rip her out of my mind, and banish her to the written page. She would never ambush me again. I started to type, and the words flowed, and as they flowed, the hollow was replaced with contentment. Before I knew it, it was morning, and the pages had been filled.

The hollow was gone.

Green - April 25, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "green". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]

Green - Squiddy Geiger - April 25, 2012

Pierre watched sourly as the two cavorted on the beach. Chasing each other, pawing at each other, kissing. I twas disgusting. And it had been going on all week.

He wished he'd never introduced them. Celia was a beautiful girl, full of life and so incredibly smart. Larry was a nice guy, or he would not be friends with him, but really, he wouldn't wish him on anyone, he was hardly a catch.

That hadn't stopped Celia from falling for him almost immediately. She'd even asked him about Larry after they'd first met, and he'd been diplomatic. Perhaps too diplomatic, since she hadn't gotten the message that he was bad news.

"Hey, Pierre! Come swimming with us!" Celia shouted. "The water is great!" He waved, smiling, but shook his head, no. "Oh come on, spoil sport," she insisted, but he did not get up.

Pierre started to fantasize about ways to keep them apart. Each method more bizarre and fantastic than the previous one. He especially liked the idea of getting Larry transferred to one of the company's East Coast offices - with a promotion, of course, as incentive. It would require a lot of pulled strings, but he could do it.

It was when he got to the ideas that involved death and dismemberment of his erstwhile friend that he realized something was wrong. Understanding took hold of him: he was jealous! The Green Eyes Monster had a firm hold of him, and was helping him plot against his best friend!

The worst of it? He hadn't even realized he loved Celia, but it was true, and now it was driving him crazy that he'd not known it, and had not acted upon it.

He got up, waved to the two of them in the water, and shouted "I'm going for a walk!" He needed to think. A good long hard think.

Missing - April 24, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "missing". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]

Missing - Squiddy Geiger - April 24, 2012

I had it all planned. I knew exactly what I was going to do, when I was going to do it, and how it would be accomplished. It was all going to be so perfect.

And then you came along.

You appeared in a flash, you rampaged through my emotions, then disappeared. Without so much as a word. You left me broken and empty. And I got so far off track that I don't know if I can get where I was headed.

Oh, please don't misunderstand, I loved every minute of our misadventures, and yes, it was my fault I let things slide to be with you. I know this. So I don't blame you for any of this; I wish merely to explain, and by explaining, perhaps understand things better myself.

While we played, a year of carefully built foundations leading to the next phase of my plan were thrown aside. The planning had gone smoothly, the building had been easy and successful. It may take longer this time, or, if the Gods are kind, it will go faster. I don't know which.

I have my friends to help me. They're good friends, and they'll guide me when necessary, and kick me mentally when it is needed, as they always have. I have good friends. They allowed me to ignore them for you, and accepted me back when it was over.

I hope you are well where you've gone, that your journeys are fulfilling, and that you find what you are seeking. There is a piece missing from my soul now. It will always be missing, even as I build around it and find other things to replace it. No, not replace. Nothing can replace you. But I will grow and prosper again soon, even while I miss you.

Shelter - April 23, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "shelter". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]

Shelter- Squiddy Geiger - April 23, 2012

Life hits, I need a break
I can't face another day
Life hits, I need to breathe
I want to walk away

I turn to you, you pick me up
You brush away the dirt
I turn to you, you cheer me up
You shelter me from hurt

You're always there, you keep me sane
When life has left me drained
You're always there, you dress my wounds
When life has left me battered

With the slightest touch, you heal me
Your hands a form of balm
With the softest word, you cure me
Your voice the source of calm

Life hits, but that's ok
You help me face the day
Life hits, but I can breathe
No need to walk away

Valve - April 22, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "valve". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]

Thread- Squiddy Geiger - April 22, 2012

The room was cold, despite being full of people, not quite sardine-close, but full. The blizzard howled around them, a banshee screaming to be granted admittance.

They'd gathered in this building when the highway had become impassable. The police had directed them here, the only shelter for miles, and it had been a welcome respite from the weather, at least at first.

Greg and his family had arrived to find the building was full already, but they'd found a corner to settle into, using their bags and jackets to make the floor comfortable. It had been cramped, but comfortable enough, until a few hours later they noticed it was starting to get cool in the building.

A few people had gone into the services room to discover that the heating system was out. The culprit was soon found; a valve had seized, and there was no way to fix it. Without it, the system would not work, and there was no replacement. It was on the list of parts that had been ordered, but weren't due to arrive for another few days.

Now, two days later, it was damned cold inside. Better than the minus forty outside, but if the weather didn't let up soon, it could be disastrous. Greg was worried, but he kept a positive attitude for the kids. Mary knew him well enough to know it was a mask.

In the wee hours of the third day, it seemed to let up a bit. The howls and thumps weren't so intense or prolonged. Greg started to hope it might be over soon. He watched through the dimmed light as someone else, curious about the storm, went to the door and pushed it open to peek out. The man disappeared, and the howling started again, as intense as ever.

Greg couldn't be sure if he'd really seen the long clawed hand as the man was pulled through. The door slammed shut again behind him. He blinked, and hoped he was dreaming. If he wasn't, it would be another very long, very cold day.

Thread - April 20, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "thread". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]

Thread- Squiddy Geiger - April 20, 2012

Evan studied the screen for awhile, hoping to find a pattern. Nothing stood out; nothing made an impression. It had to be here somewhere, or he'd be screwed.

Lila paced up and down behind him as he worked. The note had been precise: figure out what the rest of the message meant, or they would execute Annette. It could be a bluff, but he had no way of knowing. He had no idea who they were, or what they wanted, other than what had been in the message.

Annette was their daughter. She was in Grade Six and should have been in school, but when the note arrived, Lila called the school. They'd told her that Jason had called to say she was sick. She was not in school. Jason, of course, had not called. He'd been with Lila since Anette left teh house for school. They had not yet called the police because the time limit was short - he had another 45 minutes to figure things out.

Jason scanned the work, and tried to remember what he'd learned about cryptology over the years. He scanned the page, looking for patterns. Was it a simple substitution or complex? could he just go by them being offset by a set amount? It had to be simple. An hour to break a complex code was impossible.

He did a search online for decryption pages, and found what he was looking for - a page you could copy and paste into, that would decrypt. He pasted the entire message in, and was rewarded. It was further instructions, including a phone number to call, each number written out long form: two-zero-one five-five-five seven-three-one-six. He grabbed the phone and dialled it quickly.

A recording came on, with a URL to go to, and instructions on how to find the next set of instructions. Pick the tenth, fourteenth, and twenty-fifth words in the first paragraph, then the first, seventh and eighth in the second paragraph, and so-on. He had to call back three times to get the message to play again while he wrote feverishly.

The deadline for getting through it to the next bit was only five minutes away, so he worked quickly. It was an email address to send message to, consisting solely of the word 'hurry'. By his watch, he made it with a minute to spare, but god help them if the email was delayed anywhere!

Through six more roadblocks he fought to keep up, until the last, another puzzle, defeated him. He deciphered it only to read: "We're sorry, you have already missed this deadline. However, you've been good sports so Annette's location will be relayed to you in one hour. Please accept our gratitude in playing The Game."

Elastic - March 28, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "elastic". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]

Elastic- Squiddy Geiger - March 28, 2012

Mr. Wist looked around thoughtfully. There was too much to be done, and he didn't know where to start. He sat quietly and drank his coffee, knowing he needed to start, but without a plan of attack, the prospect was daunting.

He got up as someone knocked at the door. He looked through the security peephole at a tall young man in his twenties, a heavy build, slightly dishevelled, standing passively on the other side of the door. He put the chain on, unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door slightly.

"Yes? Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yeah, uh, can I you know, use your phone?" The stranger seemed agitated, possibly because of nervousness or agitation, but there was something, he couldn't put his finger on it, that screamed 'DANGER!" Mr. Wist left the chain on.

"I'm sorry, it's out of order," he lied. "Try down the block, there's a payphone there on the corner." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. "Here, use this if you need it." He reached out towards the opening, and the stranger's hand darted forward, grabbing at his arm. He pulled back in surprise, and tried to push teh door closed, but the man's foot was in it.

"Oh gramps, you shouldn't have done that," the man pushed on the door, but it had a surprisingly good chain. "Now you have to pay."

As Mr. Wist watched in horror, the man pressed into the opening, his face and body squeezing, thinning. The face and body deformed bonelessly. Mr. Wist gasped, and backed away from the door, as the man made it through. He moved quickly and Mr. Wist ran but wasn't fast enough as the man tripped him. He bumped his head against the wall.

"Oh yes, you'll do, gramps," the stranger said happily, as his mouth opened wide. He slid it down over the top of Mr. Wist's head, as Mr. Wist watched helplessly. The lips moved down over the body, the throat opening wide in turn. The tough part was when the shoulders entered, the elastic mouth and throat working slowly to engulf.

Some three hours later, Mr. Wist's feet disappeared, and the stranger lay quietly on the floor as the juices got to work inside him.

Gas - March 25, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "gas". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]

Gas- Squiddy Geiger - March 25, 2012

Odourless, colourless, all around us
Gas sustains us, or smothers us
Or immolates us, or aids us
Or on windy days pushes us
Or energizes us

It entertains us, it delights us
Or for certain pranksters, offends us
The wrong gas poisons us
But always gas is around us
The absence of gas kills us

Leap - March 24, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "leap". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]

Leap- Squiddy Geiger - March 24, 2012

James pressed himself against the cold brick fearfully. How the hell had he gotten himself into this mess? Everything had seemed to progress perfectly, exactly as he'd hoped, and yet here he was. Alone, abandoned by the woman he'd given up everything for. Alone, five stories above the cold hard pavement, on a cold hard ledge.

He'd left his wife of fifteen years for her. It was true, the love had gone out of their marriage but there had still been affection. The excitement had gone, but there was still, occasionally, fun. The wonder had gone, but there was comfortable familiarity. And he'd thrown it all away, for her.

She'd dazzled him. She'd flattered him. She'd cajoled him into thinking she really was the one for him. That she was so much better than his wife. That they would live happily ever after. He'd resisted temptation before. He'd resisted similar flattery and whispered promises. Why hadn't he resisted this time? What was it about her that had made him take the leap this time?

It didn't matter now, he thought bitterly. He had given in to her. He'd left his wife. And that had lost him many of his friends, who sided with his wife. Indirectly, it had lost him his job. It had lost him the respect of family and friends. And finally, it had cost him his self respect, when she'd finally tossed him aside like an old toy.

It was cold, up here on the ledge, just as it was cold wherever he went lately. His apartment was cold and empty. His accounts were empty. His heart was empty. He could not see hope. He could not see a future. He sighed, whispered a final "I'm sorry", unheard by his wife, and took the final leap.

Purge - March 18, 2012

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "purge". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]

Purge- Squiddy Geiger - March 18, 2012

Xander spent the afternoon removing things from the house, boxing them up to be put in storage. Anything with a connection to her was removed. Joint purchases, gifts, things she'd liked. All too painful to keep around. Perhaps one day he'd be able to have them around again, but right now, he couldn't function with them in the house.

As he boxed things up, he'd find his eyes watering, on the verge of crying. He never actually broke down in tears, but it was close a few times. Not that he though crying was unmanly - he'd cried the night she died. He'd cried at the funeral. Not sob, no, but he had done nothing to hide the tears. He didn't want to cry anymore, but he knew some reminder of a shared experience could do it. So for now, he purged the house of reminders.

The trip to the hospital after he'd gotten the call had been agony, the fear and worry causing physical pains in his chest. When he'd arrived and the doctor had taken him aside, he'd known, before Dr. Lewis had said a word. When she'd said the words, daggers had sliced his insides. By the time her parents had arrived, shock had set in; he'd gone through the motions. When his sister had arrived, she took charge of him, got him home safely.

She'd helped him with the arrangements, too. The shock had lasted a long time. He was not used to grief; he'd never lost anyone close before, and hadn't been ready for it. He'd always questioned the need for funerals, but understood now. It had helped him say goodbye, but he wasn't done grieving, and until this phase was done, he didn't want reminders.

He was trying to purge the grief by purging the reminders. Others might not understand, but it was what he needed to do for now. He sighed, and continued sorting and boxing; there was much to do yet.