I figured it would be hard to tell if the prompt was to address “whatever you want” or whether it was a free writing day. So they’re all right, because I really did mean that you could write about whatever you wanted to. 🙂
And so, who did our judge, Tauisha Nicole @shells2003, pick as this week’s finalists?
Alana Garrigues, @alanagarrigues
Congrats all! Their entries are below along with a poll for you to vote in and decide this week’s WINNER! Be back tomorrow morning at 9:00 Eastern to find out who wins!
Aubry got used to having someone speaking in his mind after awhile. He found it comforting, it was like he was never alone now. Loki was happy to have someone that wasn’t going to be putting up a fight for control. This kid was ready and willing to be his scion. It was refreshing, and he was ready for some fun.
The kid did have a lot of questions, about the power, about how to use it. There were some hard lessons, but after a while Aubry was really getting the hang of things. And Loki could see how this was changing the boy, he was becoming stronger in will, he was losing the whole scared broken boy situation. This was going to be a melding that Loki hoped would last a long time.
One day after a long day of practicing his illusions, Aubry layed back in a big field of grass to catch his breath. He mused out loud because he knew he was alone.
“I can do all of these amazing things, but now what do I do?”
And with that one question Loki felt his heart race with excitment, because now he could lay the seed of chaos properly in the boy with one simple answer.
“Whatever you want.”
“You’re all going to hell!” the old man yelled at them.
“What ever you want, Mr. Happy!” Johnathan called back as he tried not to spill the cocktail in his hand. He laughed as he stumbled along.
“Why do these guys have to show up everytime there is a parade?” Mary asked. “They are just so negative.”
“They just want to save your soul,” Billy offered. “That’s all.”
The old man and a couple others held signs saying that the world was going to end and that America’s tolerance for homosexuality and abortions had doomed her to damnation.
“What strikes me as odd is that none of these people ever seem to stop and wonder about that fact that they are obsessed with the same things they profess to condemn. I mean, who the hell talks about homosexuality more, the gay guy or the bizarre evangelical who says he wants to save your soul? You know?”
“Ha!,,” Mary said, “I think you have hit on something there.” She turned back towards the man holding the sign. “I’ll be sure to say a little prayer for you brother,” she called out.
For a split second the man paused in his yelling and his face contorted in horror as he looked at Mary. Just for a second. And then he was back to yelling, if possible, with more vigor.
“Burn in hell! All of you will burn in hell!”
Lemon stared out the windshield. The hazy sky beyond the glass streaked red, orange, and green across the horizon. Even now she thought her house might be just around the corner if she wished hard enough.
“Where to now?” Chelsea asked. The girl drew up her knees, resting her chin on top.
“Whatever you want.” It didn’t matter. No place was safe.
“Maybe Bloomsburg? The college dorms probably have some food left in them. If we look hard enough, there’s bound to be some booze someone left behind.”
The sign on route 11 announced the exit for the town in less than half a mile. Lemon glanced at the gas gauge. They were still good . . . for now. “Yeah, okay. But you know there’s a hoard that’s captured the downtown area, right?”
“I hadn’t heard.” Chelsea sighed. “Our radio died five months ago.”
Lemon had found the girl hiding in a grocery store, holed up in a walk-in freezer and surrounded by cases of Twinkies and Spam. It had taken four days to get the story out of her, and it hadn’t been pretty. The corpses of her brother and mother hadn’t been pretty, either, but that was a story for another day.
“We can still go . . . we just have to be prepared.”
Chelsea nodded and unfolded her body. Lemon kept her eyes on the road, but when she came to the bottom of the off-ramp, she stopped the car and rolled up the window. Her passenger handed her a netted helmet and clutched a smoker. She nodded again. “I’m ready.”
Lemon pursed her lips and eased the car forward. With each block, the buzzing grew louder. Honeycombs wedged into every crevice. Bees the size of mailboxes buffeted the car from every side.
“I really hate bees,” Lemon said through gritted teeth.
“They hate you, too,” Chelsea seethed, smacking Lemon with the smoker and rolling down her window.
Alana Garrigues, @alanagarrigues
Every damn night for three years, the conversation between Rodney and Elizabeth had unfolded in precisely the same way.
“What do you want to do tonight?”
“Whatever you want.”
“No, I want to know what you want to do.”
“Yeah, and I said … whatever you want.”
“You wanna just watch some tv?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
And the night would end with several hours of reality tv and crime drama before they would drag themselves to bed, both bored stiff.
Tonight, finally, Elizabeth was going to say something.
“What do you want to do tonight?” Rodney asked.
“Whatever you want,” Elizabeth replied.
“No, I want to know what you want to do.”
“You know what I really want to do? I want to throw this damn tv out the fucking window. Then I want to get in the car, fill it with junk food and Red Bull and drive all night long. I want to stop wherever we end up, get a new place with a garden littered with gnomes. I want to fill the house with books and paint and music and friends who don’t know when to leave and I want to remember what life is supposed to feel like. I don’t want to see a tv ever again. That’s what I want to do.”
“Hmm. Sounds interesting. How about tomorrow? That way we have time to quit our jobs in person. Tonight I’m tired and I really just want to watch tv. CSI?”
“Yeah, whatever. Sounds good,” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She knew tomorrow would never come, but it felt good to get it out. Plus, at least now she had someplace to go in her head during the dreadful commercials.
Whatever you want. That’s the issue. She walked over to the hotdog stand figuring this was a no-brainer. She stared at the vendor.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
“What do you have?” she whispered, thinking there was the possibility he could satisfy some want inside her.
“I’ve got long dogs, skinny dogs, fat dogs, dogs with relish, relishing dogs, buns to satisfy the wheat eater, and buns to dabble in.”
What??? “Ummm, I’ll take a relishing dog.” She’d been wanting to relish something for a long time. Hopefully, this would do it.
“There’s one requirement for the relishing dog to be satisfying.”
“what’s that?”
“You must wait 20 minutes before you sense it at all, that’s touch, smell, see, hear, taste it. K?”
Heading over to the library with the bag containing the relishing dog, she wanted to peek. Hmmm. Wonder why there’s a 20-minute waiting period on a hotdog.
She took the elevator and found she needed to pull a book out of her bag to smell so she avoided smelling the relishing dog.
Back on her floor, she decided she had definitely found something she could want. The relishing dog begged for wanting. She did not disappoint.
After 20 minutes had passed and she was alone in her office, she peeled the bag open. Her nostrils were accosted by the fumes. When she looked in, all she could see were the napkins. She stuck her hand in. Hunh?
She wasn’t sure it was the kind of lunch she was used to but she did recognize her desire. At least that was something.
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