Picture Prompt Thread: Week 1

(First! WARNING: Younger viewers might not want to read this, as it has death and death threats. Sorry if you don't allow that.)

As I walk deeper and deeper into the woods, the climate changes. Green turns into yellow, the trees are a lot bigger and more creepy, and now there is something that looks like huge oranges. The thing that looks like huge oranges makes everything brighter somehow. I wonder what they are? The objects that look like huge oranges don't light up the ground, so I take out my lantern to keep everything bright. All of a sudden, I hear a howl.

My first thought was to run, but then I knew that whatever was making the howl would hear me and run after me. Instead, I climb the nearest and thickest looking tree for support and climb it to the top. Luckily the tree is small so I don't have to climb that high. I finally reach the top, so I strap myself in with a rope I brought from home. Then, out of now where, I see it. The creature who made the howl. It was a wolf. It saw me and ran up to the tree. I'm lucky that wolves can't climb, but how long can I stay up here? Probably just a few hours. The wolf will probably still be waiting for me to climb down the tree to kill me.

I see another tree, near by the one I am in now. It's thick, like this one. I decide to make my escape by jumping trees. I quickly untie the rope and jump to the other tree. Then another. And another. The wolf keeps running whenever I jump to the trees, but it can only kill me when I fall. I find another tree, but it's too far away. I might make it, but my leg would probably be broken. With my confidence, I try to jump to the tree, but I fail. In the middle of the area, I fall and the wolf run towards me.

It isn't that close, so I run as fast as I can. I'm a good runner, and I am in track for High School. Only one or two people usually beat me in races. I run until I see the climate change back to the woods, and then stop for a second, thinking about everything bad that has happened to me. All of the years being bullied, all of the years being beat up. The climate changed, but the wolf was still there. I forgot about it, and the wolf jumps on top of me. Adrenaline and fear run through my body as the wolf rips apart my body. I find that death is long, and my death lasted about an hour. When the wolf was ripping me apart, I remember people telling me to commit suicide and to go kill my self. I hope that they are happy now...

 

What a neat idea! I actually had a similar idea in mind with funny pictures from the Pokémon anime as the prompts.

 

John hated his life. He hated his job. He hated strawberries. He hated puppies. John was a hateful man. And who wouldn't be hateful when your job involved going to monster nests to find magic items. For that was John's job, a Gatherer.

"Us Gatherers have it tough! We have to go and risk our lives every freakin' day. And for what? A few measly bags of coins! We don't even get recognition like the Adventurers do. What do they do? Just run around killing creatures and taking all the credit that we should also get! The King's armor didn't come from their materials!!"

Life was unfair and John knew this. He was destined to be a Gatherer since the day he was born. His father was a gatherer, his grandfather was a gather...heck, they traced their line all the way until the 1st century, when the king at that time ordered the families to start documenting their family trees, and they were all GATHERERS! John was so sick of it.

John heard a crack. One of the many glowing orbs were breaking.

"Shit! It's hatching!"

John immediately put his lamp in front of him. Pressing a small button, the lamp transformed, engulfing his arm, turning into a weapon. It was his favorite. He named the gun Juliet the Slayer. He was really proud of her. The fact that his best friend Henry created it made Juliet even more precious. Henry was his town's finest mechanic.

What looked to be an innocent orb attached to the end of a tree was actually an egg. It was an egg of a strange creature made of electricity. They were normally such a docile race, but newborns were known to be savage killers. Newborns, the researchers said, were aggressive because they had to eat to grow. The newborn's bloodlust was really high, killing and eating anything with a heartbeat. The newborn was powered with enough electricity to keep it running, even if it's body was still weak and uncoordinated. The people named this strange creature Shiden, Lightning Death. Newborn Shiden were valued for their potent electricity.

The Shiden was small, maybe around one foot in height. It was strangely mammalian, even if it came from an egg. It's yellow fur was wet with embryonic juices, dripping down on the forest floor. Electricity was expelling from the creature, blackening the nearby flora to a crisp. It turned, facing John. It leaped.

John sighed. "Just another shitty day." He fired.

 

"No no it's..oh God I really did this shit oh Godogogodfuck" (inaudible)

Okay okay, take a drink, and describe it to me again.

"Okay..no, it wasn't like the normal stuff. The sensations are the same at first but this was different, I dunno, like I'm used to all that, the crystals crack, that smoke hitting you like needles and then boom off you go, you know. I uh, talked to things before on this, saw things, but something about this had a permanence like, like a pen mark on your skin that just won't come off and can't be ignored, you see these things and start to hear a chime, just a dingaling but every once in a while it gets sharp like a glass breaking and then dies, like waves, they're like bells, like windchimes of God, or something, like fucking dinner-gongs beaten on by some old wench with a wooden spoon and whether you are hungry or not you just..you just..and then, then you know after what seemed like 1000 years even though the last moment it was only a few minutes, they feel like eyes, like eyes of the world and you can't escape them you, know can't escape them no matter where you turn, it's like uh, they are looking at you you know, and you start to look back too and it doesn't matter where you turn the vision stays the same, like they are the eyes that saw the start and saw the end all at once and it's just like..there aren't really words for this shit man I don't know how to explain you know? Have you ever smoked the dimi?"

No sir.

"Oh well hard to follow if you haven't cause it was like, like sort of ....(inaudlble)...Like in part the usual but the same time real different. So they look at you and you see them and you start to hear the fuckin' chimes again, the fuckin' chimes like the sound it makes when you hit a big concrete water main pipe but it's like all at once and not at all at the same time. Some of this is the usual stuff but you know I don't think I can distinguish it for you if you haven't been there, but eventually you hear like a laughing, and you think it's coming from the bulbs but it sounds quieter over there than ever. After that I was out again and completely back, reintegrating again. Spacey but reintegrating, saw my living room again, had a smoke, chilled..uh, reflected."

You say smoke, smoke what?

"Cigarette, just a cigarette then. But I had more of it later, dimi, different time different lighting, tried to have different thoughts, but it didn't matter, was back, it was the fucking..tree I guess it is? And the bulbs, the eyes, the whatever the hell, and the same thing but the chimes are louder, and I'm gettin strobes now, like flashes. In them I see....him. I see him. And I see the hatchet, and I see the blood, and..."

By he you mean Mr. Jodry?

"Yeah, yeah. It was like watching a movie but I look close and I see the fucking bulbs always in the background like..like the flashes are imposed and edited and washed over it like a shitty coat of paint, until I..just couldn't see them anymore. And then I felt the warmth, and the stickiness, and the weight, and my stomach, and I just puked just right fuckin' there, the tree's gone, it's all gone, there's just Glen there with his fuckin' jaw hanging off and I'm covered and the walls are covered and the floors and my hatchet and I just don't know, next I'm coming to in a cell and I'm cuffed and now I'm here and..oh God I didn't really, no this isn't really going on is it? I really did this?"

Yes sir.

"I...(inaudible sobbing)

Carter slammed his cigarette into a butt in the ashtray in front of him as Jones pressed stop on the tape recording. He leaned back in the old birch chair, expelling a lungful of smoke.
"Fuuck" hissed from his mouth.
"So what's this have to do with us? We're going to be sent every single time some loony junkie short on rent hacks up his landlord now?"
Carter leaned forward again, staring now at Jones like he just told him he likes to blow goats on Sunday afternoons.
"Really? Really? They had a whole fucking book on this shit Eddy, a main part of the training, one of the key fucking examples of the miserable shitfucks we deal with, and you're gonna ask me what this has to do with us? Were you jerkin' off the whole time at the Facility or what?"
Carter shook his head as he removed his fourth cigarette of the hour from its pack and lit it, never taking his eyes off of Jones, whose own eyes darted like a scolded dog.
"Villisca, 1912. Bath Township, 1927. These ringing some bells for you? They're fucking back. Agency had a feeling about this one, I don't know how, and they were right."
Jones returned his gaze from the floor and back to Carter.
"You're telling me that dimi was widely available back then? Nah this can't be the same shit," he replied. Carter pressed his fingers to his temples and sighed before answering.
"They just found another goddamn door. The drugs excuse is for everyone else, common Joe Everyman, Jesus Eddy we're supposed to know better here." A snake of ash fell from Carter's cigarette onto the table.
"They were supposed to be dealt with permanently since forty-eight. That was the agreement. The little bug-eyed bastards fucked us on the treaty."
"Y-you think we're dealing with the Grektan again.." replied Jones, speaking his question as a statement as he swallowed hard. Carter brought his hands to his eyes and ran them hard down his face.
"Things are about to get interesting for the ol' Agency, Eddy-boy." Carter stood up from his seat and punched out his smoke in the half-filled ashtray, pacing the room.
"Officially, this will be drug induced psychosis. That will work. You remember the zombie near-situation, that Miami guy hungry for a face? There's our precedent. I'll get Wilson on the phone, get him to hit up that red haired slut from the news agency, spin us a story on the dangers of the new boogeyman drug. Worked before, can again. Gotta get the public standing behind a law to close these new doors."
"What do we tell the Officiator? How are we gonna go about the greys if our treaty really is in the shitter? They were supposed to deal with these fuckin tre-"
"That's not your concern, keep your head on and your shit in your guts," Carter interrupted, snapping an outstretched finger towards Jones. "You just put on your pig face and your pig badge and give our report on the drug-fueled psychotic to the bumpkin chief. Because that's what this was. A drug induced psychosis. That's their answer for their record, and they'll eat it like Salisbury steak. Leave the other details to your betters."
Carter sat back down in the rigid birch chair and pulled out his fifth cigarette. Jones put back on his homicide unit costume jacket and exited the tobacco-reeking room in the back of the county station, closing the door behind him.