Other stories for this prompt

It was dark inside. I toggled the switch, and nothing happened. Shit. Thunder rolled and I sighed. Power outage.

I stumbled through the apartment, tripping on things. I haven't lived here long enough to know the layout well. I never live anywhere that long. More than a few months, he finds me, and I have to go again. But this place, hell, there were still boxes.

I found the door to the utility room where the washer and dryer were, and where I knew the flash light was. I opened the door and began to feel around for it. Where...

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The lamp wouldn't turn on. I was going to have to help deliver a baby in pitch darkness. With the elevator stuck between floors there was no point in wishing I was elsewhere, rehashing all my steps today that got me into this place, at this time. Yet, this is exactly what I did, in between asking the mother how much time between contractions and holding her hand, speaking calmly and rubbing her back.

First my alarm didn't go off this morning so I was late, then dropped hot coffee over the new rug in the living room, follolwed by...

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The lamp wouldn't turn on. "Shit," Mel muttered. "Jerry!"

Of course, he wouldn't come. He was in the tiny bathroom, savoring the one amenity included in the rent, his head bowed under the shower's heavy, erratic spray.

Mel moved over to the dusty window. Rocking back and forth with Ollie on her hip, she pulled the curtain aside and grabbed at a cloth sitting on the sill. Not caring what it was, she wiped at the windows and tried to see out. Somehow they never seemed to stay clean. Mel was amazed at the amount of dust that always seemed...

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The lamp wouldn't turn on. Lucy shifted, humping herself up on the mattress to look at the actual location of the light, fingers searching to see if, perhaps, she just hadn't hit the right button. But it was still there. The cheap lamp she had bought with her sister at Target while decorating the apartment she hadn't wanted to get.

"Unf," Lucy muttered under her breath. Light bulbs. She had no clue where light bulbs were. Forcing herself up, she headed out of her room and into the bathroom, flicking on the light there. But still, there was no light....

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The lamp wouldn't turn on.

Strange, she thought, I just changed the bulb yesterday.

Feeling her way through the dark living room, Camille passed into the dining area and saw the stairs leading to the second floor were lit with tiny tealights. Following them up, she called out, "John?" No answer. A little louder, "John, are you home?." At the top of the landing, more candles lit a path from the stairs and into the hallway. Camille started down the hall but paused when she passed the closed bathroom door. Thinking John might be inside the bomb shelter-like walls, she...

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The lamp wouldn't turn on. The aquarium was not far, so Mitch put his book against it. The tank was spotted with algae -- ectoplasm green. It had been ages since the last water change.

CJ waddled, tilting a little to the side, fatter on his right than his left. There was a big string of poo hanging from his butt.

Are there really still buried dinosaur fossils? Do you think there's one in the backyard? What about a tooth?

CJ snapped upward, eating his own poo string.

Mitch decided he would ask Ms. Grayson take them to the Smithsonian....

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The lamp wouldn't turn on. Of all the times for the bulb to burn out, it had to be right now? The noises were getting closer and closer to Sam's bed. Whatever they were, they weren't human.

Sure, it was most likely just the wind -- or something equally silly. All Sam needed was half a second of light to confirm that theory, and he'd sleep happily. But no, he couldn't have that. Instead all he had was his imagination to build horrific images for every creak and thud he'd heard all night.

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A heart is a beating machine. It's an organ, it's a force beyond all reckoning.
The doctor will now see you," said the nurse in all white.
I glared, knocked over my coffee and walked behind her, moving towards my fate. I would hear that my beating heart skipped beats-a heart murmur. Murmur echoing in my head. Mumu-a dress I wore in Hawaii as a young girl. My mother was in Pearl Harbor when the Japanese attacked.
The doctor was in the room before I was. Is this a good sign. He's anxious to tell me my heart will explode....

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The Complex Cajun

Staring at the stars, aware he was probably a cliche. He couldn't help it; they looked so amazing. There could be anything out there, and there probably is. Listening to us with their Zalgcif Rays through Unbearesalt Portholes.

He bit into his day-0ld po-boy under attack by a fly looking for a fix. The flakes of bread crunched between his teeth, followed by a tasty bite of lettuce and shrimp. He burped and took another sip of his Abita. He hit the bowl again and set the po-boy aside, picking up his acoustic.

"Pick me up, I...

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Kid Boxer's dad was an alcoholic and sometimes when he was liquored up enough, or liquored up in just the right way, he would bestow upon Kid Boxer his hard-won, deeply questionable wisdom. Towards the end, Kid Boxer's dad was drinking a lot, so the advice was coming fast and furious.

One thing Kid Boxer's dad liked to expound upon was the idea of going down swinging. "Fuck those pricks. No matter what, you have to go down swinging. Nobody can fault a man for trying, as long as he went down swinging." It was all pretty much like this,...

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About the prompt

Originally displayed on:
September 25, 2010

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