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These are old prompts I did.

Jun. 15th - ghostly galleon

"What's wrong with your family?" Annabelle asked Kale suspiciously as she eyed one of the spooky paintings on his sitting room wall. "I mean, I know that you had to get all of your genetic retardation from somewhere but this is just ridiculous."

Kale shrugged. "You never listen to me," he said. "I told you I was the normal one."

"You told me you were the black sheep!" Annabelle squeaked, steering away from some horrible taxidermied Frankenstein's creature in the corner.

"In this case, it's the same thing," he replied with a good-natured grin as he stepped up behind her and steered her into the less disturbing dining room, where he figured she could recover from the journey through the Foyer and the sitting room.

"This place gives me the creeps," she said in a flat tone of voice. "How many giant fireplaces do you have anyway? More importantly, how many do you need? And why is there a pirate ship over your--" she stopped talking to curl her lip in disgust as her eyes drifted over the painting.

"It's the Ghostly Galleon," Kale said in a theatrically dangerous voice, and Annabelle thought it would have been more appropriate if he'd had a flashlight shining under his chin. "My grandpa painted it."

"Is that a zombie?" Annabelle asked, squinting at a figure on the deck.

"Sort of," Kale replied, sounding bored, like he'd heard this story too many times before. Annabelle shot him a look. "I guess they're like these parasite ridden puppets of the sea monster, here," he said, pointing to the right corner of the canvas. "Like Resident Evil 4, right?"

"What is wrong with your family?!" Annabelle shouted.

Jun. 18th - Velveteen

There was only one lightbulb left in the dirty curve of the overhead light, but her pupils were so dilated, she preferred it that way. It was easier to see in the dim glow of the 50 watt bulb as it strained to break through the dusty collection of insect corpses that had built up over the past couple months.

"That's really ******** gross," Gina said slowly, pointing to the lamp through the haze in the basement, stretched out on velour of the second hand couch as she wriggled her bare back against the stupid imitation velvet cushions and ashed her neglected cigarette everywhere.

Anne already knew how gross the bugs were, it wasn't big news, and it wasn't like she was going anywhere near that mass insect grave either. She tried to ignore it when she could, but any day now that bulb would pass on, and she'd really be in the dark then. To prepare, she'd bought a couple of those one dollar scented candles last time she was buying cheetos, and she already had like 50 lighters anyway. That was the plan for when the light finally died.

It would save her money on the electric bill anyway, she thought, running her fingers over the tacky red velveteen and wondering what kind of a person had put something this hideous in their house in the first place. She'd found it on the side of the road and it looked clean enough, Anne had picked it up and taken it home, repulsed by the color and texture, but pleased with the price and how well it fit, spatially anyway, in her dingy little hole of an apartment.

So I'm trying to apply for this zombie RP, and the awesome person runnin' it gave me this prompt to complete as an application... thought I might as well post it here...

Your character wakes up one morning in his/her bed, a seemingly normal day, but when they venture outside, it's a completely different world, filled with ghosts that resume their daily activities and cannot see you, nor can you speak or interact with them. While walking among the confusion, you notice a non-ghost person like yourself. He is a man, tall and thin, wearing a long black coat with blonde hair and piercing yellow eyes. Describe the setting, meeting, and conversation, as well as who he is. (He's a bad guy!)


Adrianne Marie Upham woke up that morning, as she did almost every morning, to the sound of her radio, tuned to the local country station. She smiled into her pillow, breathing the cool, morning air in deeply through her nose before burrowing into the cool, smooth cotton pillow case for a few more moments suspended in darkness.

She made frozen waffles and Jimmy Dean sausages for breakfast, washed them down with two cups of coffee, and then ventured into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She always showered when she came home from work at the stables, so in the morning all she ever had to do was get dressed and braid her hair. She liked pigtails because they looked cute, and she could wear them under her riding helmet (which she didn't like wearing, but it was required).

Not long after she was grabbing her keys and her sunglasses and stepping out into the fresh, early morning air. She had another cup of coffee in a travel mug in one fist, her leather purse slung over her shoulder and her daddy's old plaid shirt that she liked to wear over her own draped in the crook of her elbow. She didn't notice anything odd until she was half way to her car.

Adrianne, who had been fiddling with her keys, looked up just as a car drove past her house. Now this in and of itself was no strange occurrence; she lived on a fairly busy street, and even though it was only about seven in the morning, it was not uncommon for there to be lots of traffic. It was just that this car was... well... transparent. Adrianne watched it go by with her mouth open.

"Now, Ada-May," she said in a low voice, calling herself by the name that her daddy always had, "your eyes is just a bit tired still, 's all. Don't go convincing yourself that you just saw a see-through car go by you, because that's maybe the most absurd thing I ever heard." She squeezed her eyes shut, and opened them again just as three more drove by.

"Oh, God," she said, and sat down on the side walk before her knees could buckle beneath her. "God in heaven. I have lost my mind."

She sat for a moment, dumbfounded, before clutching wildly at her purse, fumbling for her phone. She pulled it out with trembling fingers, letting the bag slide from her shoulder and into the dewy morning grass beside her as she flipped open her cell and yelled at it to call her mama back in Tennessee. It'd be... it'd be about nine there, wouldn't it?

Her mother answered the phone on the third ring. "Mama," Adrianne cried into the phone. "Mama, I think I'm goin' crazy! I dunno what to-"

The connection was bad; she could hear static crackling at the edges of her mother's voice as she said, "Hello? Is anybody there?"

"Mama," Adrianne wailed into the phone. "Mama, its me. Its Annie!"

But her mother had already hung up.

Adrianne stared at the phone. "Call Mama," she said again, and it did. This time, her mother sounded annoyed when she hung up.

"God damn it!" Adrianne screamed, throwing the phone down onto the pavement, but not having enough leverage to bust it into the hundreds of pieces she would have liked. "God damn cell phone!"

She didn't own a land line.


To be continued and stuff...

I just found this... A long time ago I was writing a Silent Hill 4 fanfic, but I never got very far into it. I've always loved this little scene, though. (Its the only thing I've got typed up, so here you go!)


It was summer again, and all the windows in their crumbling, third floor apartment had been wound wide open; a feeble invitation to any wayward breeze that might have gotten lost in the suffocating inner-city heat. Instead, the only thing that bothered to come through the screen was the dirty, orange glow of a street lamp that had pushed its way through the excessive foliage of a nearby maple, and now crept across the tired, wooden floor like a rash. In the light and the heat, Eileen’s perfect skin acquired an almost ethereal luminescence that made Henry thirsty for her, for the essence of her, as though her summer glow were a tangible aura that he could sip off her skin as she slept.

He couldn’t help but smile as he snuggled in close, despite the almost overwhelming heat, and studied the faint hint of freckles that stood defiantly tan against her blush of a sunburn. In that moment, Henry was sure that he could never care about anyone, or anything, more than he cared about her as they lay side by side, sticking to the sheets, and he wished that he could swallow up every gentle breath from her parted lips… but his overzealous enthusiasm for her life didn’t stop him from dreaming about her death. Even as he trailed his broad fingertips over her ribs as they rose and fell, he couldn’t quite get the image of her corpse out of his head.

God, and his dreams had become so real.

He could still feel his frantic heartbeat in his throat, the dull, fluttering pain of terror making him slightly dizzy, and part of him was starting to feel paranoid that he hadn’t actually woken up at all. His nightmares had become so vivid that could barely separate them from reality any longer. The sole discerning factor seemed to be that in real life, Eileen was still alive.


For a while, in the beginning, the dreams had been vague and far apart. They’d just been nightmares then, the kind he could wake up from, will away his foreboding and drop back off to sleep without ever waking Eileen up. Back then, they hadn’t even been about her. At least, not usually.

*points to examples above* They're short, short stories, usually only like 200 or so words, but sometimes more, sometimes less depending on who cares, lol.