From Story Engine
Wants to gain fame with/from
But they will have to do something they can never tell anyone about
From Story Engine
A Child Prodigy
Wants to find
But they will lose the respect of someone they admire
from Story Engine
Wants to shirk responsibility for
But they must let go of an old grudge
“Ayla, Ayla, please. Tell them it’s ok. I don’t need to go to jail.” The desperation in Blaze’s voice was intense.
“Wait, officer. Please, one moment.” The officer stopped dragging Blaze to his car. Ayla marched over in front of him. Her face was hard and she looked far from the sympathetic friend he needed her to be right now. “What happened to my cat?”
“I told you. He was gone when I got there. He must have… gotten out.”
“I checked all the windows and doors before I got on that flight. Twice.” She held up a fist as…
The cracked brick walls soaked up the spattered blood long ago. The smell of old sweat and pain lent credibility to the trophies, tarnished and dusty. Broken fans clattered, trying to spin the day’s heat out into a new neighborhood, but only accomplished creating tiresome noise.
What was it about this place that was so hard to wave away? The old man wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t see. Wouldn’t see new opportunities and new revitalization. The sentimental, the echoes of forgotten dreams and failing memories. Newspaper clippings that were browning at the edges from the heat of the day.
He slid the papers across the table, took a moment to examine the pen he had used, for effect, of course, and placed it on the stack. The CEO of the medical testing company picked it up gently. Her hand trembled slightly, but she breathed and fixed her resolve. The signature came quickly and now it only had to dry. He thought if he tried really hard, he could probably smell the ink. He wanted to remember every detail about the day he became disgustingly wealthy.
Soon, he would start supplying his medical testing kits to the largest lab franchise…
The whisps of conciseness coalesced around her, creating a patchwork of thoughts, feelings, and memories that came in and out of focus. Those millennia of seekers and supplicants who brought with them pain and desire as if wearing a wedding train that soaked up the tears caused by their wake and deposited them at her feet. She could feel each one before it evaporated back into the vague mists where it existed.
Eventually, she became lucid enough to seperate the visions of her past from those being newly formed. As she began to breathe, those visions of the “now” began…
What was that smell? It was a sort of urine mixed with body oder kind of smell.
Mr. Maxon sat at the head of the classroom behind a worn particle-board desk that, had the school been in a town that gave a shit, would have been thrown out long ago. But Lost Gap was not one of those towns. Mr. Maxon was lucky to get the crappy old thing.
But that smell. Where the hell was that coming from? It attacked his senses like ammonia or freshly cut onions. A boy shambled across the front of Mr. Maxon’s desk and…