“Thought you said you weren’t coming back,” said a reader scratching their head, rolling leery eyes. “Uh… right. Forgot about that. Thoughts keep popping in my head. Stories clamoring to be told.” The mindless writer blushed, and averted his stare to the mirror on the wall. He loved admiring himself. Most writers do, or so he thought. The reader shook their head, a bored frown crept across an unamused face. “Holy shit. Can’t you give it up for even one day? We’re sick of your never ending supply of… flashes. That what you call them? They keep getting weirder and weirder, just like you.” “Dayum! You know how to stab a guy deep don’tcha.” The writer grit his teeth, and shook a fist at the bold reader. “Speaking the truth. That’s all. Gotta go. Good luck with your phony hiatus. Will admit. You are a damn good liar. Bye Hemingway.” The reader snickers, and trots out of the mysterious room with surrealistic pictures of Kafka and his giant bug plastered on the walls. “Friggin stupid readers. I’ve spoiled the brats. Go read your boring novels crammed with purple prose, and crappy stories. Jealous, that’s what you are. Oh well, back to my tall tales. Being a genius isn’t easy. Sometimes I wish I was a moron like all the other writers. Bye…” Seymour curled up on the satin sheets. Strange thoughts streamed through his mind. “It was a dark and stormy night. Nah… Been done before.” The troubled man shuddered. He spotted what appeared to be a dark blood stain on his bedroom wall. “What? That wasn’t there yesterday. Something bad happened here. I can feel it." A chill swept through his naked body. Three clowns, and a ballerina danced into the room. He closed his eyes tight. “Go away! Can’t you see? I’m trying to sleep. Rude characters. Go bother King. He likes clowns. And, you Miss Ballerina, isn't there a Swan Lake going on somewhere?" Being a writer is sometimes a pain. Jesus… another migraine. Wish I had some Percodan. And, no, I’m not a drug addict. Not Poe, you know. Although, maybe, someday... The thoughts press on.  Steem on
 [Image source](https://www.vix.com/es/btg/trending/60546/el-efecto-clexa-como-el-desastre-de-the-100-tiene-a-la-tv-en-vilo) > Set ninety-seven years after a nuclear war has destroyed civilization, when a spaceship housing humanity's lone survivors sends one hundred juvenile delinquents back to Earth, in hopes of possibly re-populating the planet. The 100 is a TV Series created in 2014. It is a mix of drama, mystery and sci-fi genres. It actually has 72 episodes in 5 season and the 6th season is scheduled for 2019. # Plot Over 2400 survivors live on a massive station in Earth´s orbit, formed by stations and spacecraft from all the pre-existing nations. When the life support systems start to fail, 100 young prisoners are sent to the planet in a desperate attempt to check if Earth is habitable again. Hostile humans are found and the 100 have to battle them for surviving. # Cast Clarke Griffin (actress Eliza Taylor) is the protagonist. She is one of the most adventurous characters. She decides to take leadership of the group only when the situation gets out of control. She has medical knowledge and she is bisexual.  Dr. Abigail Griffin (actress Paige Turco) is the best medic and scientific aboard the space station, the mother of Clarke Griffin, and one of the most influent politicians in the station.  Finn Collins (actor Thomas McDonell) is my favourite character. He is Clarke´s boyfriend and he is determined everything he can to protect her, even when she does not agree or can protect herself.  Sources: https://www.imdb.com/ unless specified otherwise This post is my submission for the [Steem Basic Income Competition](https://steemit.com/steembasicincome/@lgbt-party/steem-basic-income-competition-write-an-lgbt-themed-post-16-shares-total) by @lgbt-party.
<h4><center>The three main types of Fiction on Steemit.<br> Flash Fiction, Short Stories, Serial Novels.</center></h4><hr> <div class="pull-left"> http://www.steemimg.com/images/2016/12/19/narrative-794978_960_720b086b.md.jpg </div> <code>The following is my opinion only and does not represent a definitive guide. But it should help you pick some posts that you like and see how to get around in them. - @baerdric</code> <p><hr> <b>Flash Fiction : </b> Good flash fiction is difficult. To engage the reader you really have to develop at least two characters, even if one of them is an obstinate microwave oven. You have to build a setting. Then your narrative has to start somewhere, and go somewhere else. It can't just be a joke or a description of a single scene. I mean, those could be flash fiction, but it would be almost impossibly difficult to make it good flash fiction. It may not have to have the classical points of a full fiction plot, but it absolutely has to pass near a couple of them at some point. These stories are about a page long and can be read completely while browsing the internet. I was surprised when I learned the name of them, because I have been writing them all my life. I have a spiral notebook somewhere from 40 years ago with 60 pages of one story per page. <p> <b>Short Stories :</b> There is a lot more room for development of characters and settings in a short story. For a while they seemed to predominate Steemit because of that and the low risk of investment for the reader. For the same reason as Flash fiction. Few people want to sit down for more than a few minutes to read one thing. So short stories will be about the depth of a TV show. If you can't read it in 15-45 minutes, many people won't bother to start. This leads us naturally to the third type of fiction. <p> <b>Serial Novels :</b> And there are two main types of these, both of which have good points. One is the novel which has been serialized. Someone wrote a novel, then re-edited it for Steemit so as to match the shortcomings of the medium and the desires of the audience. You get a full plot, with a goal that the author had in mind while writing the story. The other is actually written serially, and each episode, or group of episodes, may be a complete story - and the larger writing may be either a continuation or an actual separate story in the same universe. This method goes well with a writing style I have seen take form over the last 20 years or so, where the writer creates a character with certain attributes, then places them in settings and then just sees what happens. It's like the situation comedy but for regular fiction. <hr> All of these types can be enjoyable at different times for different reasons. I look for flash fiction when I am just scrolling through Steemit, a short story when I want to slow down for the night, and I might keep a serial open on my tablet to read while smoking a pipe or otherwise relaxing away from the computer. Examples Follow - <hr> <b>Flash Fiction</b><p> <hr> <a href="https://steemit.com/fiction/@bhop42moro/the-mango-seedling"> <div class="pull-left"> https://steemitimages.com/0x0/https://steemitimages.com/DQmaSRihpsqcvR6bDtPq5dc684NJaf2Vz6macFBwxZE9fE6/the%20mango%20seedling.png</div> "The Mango Seedling"</a> by @bhop42moro<br>This is a great example, several characters with clear atributes, a realized settting, and a path from begining, to climax, to conclusion. <p> <hr> <b>Short Story :</b> <hr> <a href="https://steemit.com/blockchains-contest/@nobyeni/the-block-inc-short-story-fiction"> <div class="pull-left"> https://steemitimages.com/DQmd6gUqyVSSWdbEoHrcBuLSjzMC8JjRASbdhPbGSUxVwML/the%20block%20inc.jpg </div> "The Block"</a> by @nobyeni There are so many stories about the blockchain or crypto that it's easy to pass them by. Some are just gimmicky to make a point, others like "The Block" take the idea further into the lives of their characters.<p> <hr> <b>Serial Fiction :</> <hr> <a href="https://steemit.com/fiction/@appent/a-stranger-death-ch-11"> <div class="pull-left"> https://steemitimages.com/DQmaBpka9TTsVcD1Vm3myH8qqACxTf9n45p5oTBGPmzRBtJ/a%20stranger%20death.jpg </div> "A Stranger Death"</a> by @appent<br> It's hard to get my attention with a serial story. I feel like I need to have some assurance that I'm not going to read several episodes and then be disappointed. Starting to read it in the middle is especially bad... unless the writing is especially good. And of course, the subtitle, "Serialized Fiction" assured me that the story was already told, and I could be fairly certain of reading to the end. I'm setting this one aside for enjoyment later. <hr> <center><h5>Self Promotion is discouraged.</h5> But @fiction-trail would love to hear about Authors you've read and enjoyed. </center>
This short story is an entry for #fiftywords initiative, maintained by @jayna for this week due to @miniature-tiger hiatus. Prompt for [this week is"Bark."](https://steemit.com/fiction/@jayna/fifty-word-story-prompt-and-contest) I spent a long time writing this, and playing with the word count to make it exactly 50 words, but I like the final result. #### <center>Here we go:</center> --------------------------------- <center></center> ### <center>Broken By Avalanche</center> > <center>Legs got stuck between rocks and too cold to feel my hands, I lifted my heavy head to look at the trees broken by the avalanche.</center> > <center>"I won't die here." I rejected the possibility my mind accepted.</center> > <center>Just then, I heard a retriever bark. "I will survive this storm."</center> > > ##### <center>The End</center> --------------------------------- ##### <center>Any idea to improve the story?</center> I'll be pleased to hear them even if they'd make the story length gets past the 50 words limit. ###### Image is used by a Creative-Commons licence. taken from [Unsplash.](https://unsplash.com/photos/k5pVxKSPsfs)
**Attention fiction authors, Fiction Trail has changed. Curation will occur in these posts.** <h4><center>What it was supposed to be like, what happened, and what it's like now. </center></h4><hr> <div class="pull-left"> http://www.steemimg.com/images/2016/12/19/narrative-794978_960_720b086b.md.jpg </div> <b>I may have caused some of what happened to Fiction Trail.</b> Certainly there were other factors, social, human factors that I was simply a part of, so I don't say this to express any sense of guilt. It's just that I was there when the inevitable happened.<p> I was the main curator when it became popular, and I influenced a lot of the decisions that led to what happened. This may give me a little insight about things to avoid in the future, as we try to bring some life back to the community. So first let me put forward what I tried to do, and what happened as a result. <p> <b>The goal </b>was to find good writers of good stories and give them good recognition and a good incentive (upvotes) to keep writing. I'm still happy with that goal. We curators read stories, found good ones, checked them against our standards, and promoted them for the group vote. That group vote, the SteemTrail Streemian vote, was the incentive. <b>To give those stories readership,</b> we also posted those stories on the conversation channel in hopes that people would discuss them as a sort of Book Club. That was the recognition we hoped to give, and for a little while it worked. The few people actually following our trail would see those stories, read them, and maybe upvote them. <b>But two questions occurred to us which set the path of an unstable future.</b> 1) Are the Fiction Trail curators good authors who write good stories and deserve recognition? IOW, can we promote each other or even promote ourselves by posting our own stories? 2) If the answer to the first question is "Yes", then why can't just anyone get on the channel, post their links, and promote themselves? <b>My answer</b> to these questions put us on the path to the chaotic results. Because yes, I believed that the other curators were good authors who deserved recognition. That's why I asked them to be curators. And so yes, if we were going to promote ourselves by posting stories, then so could anyone else. At the time I saw it as a way to build community, and indeed we had a lot of people visiting our channel. This meant that the recognition for posted stories would be high, since many people would see them. But of course, that's not what happened. That larger number of visitors were mostly people who dropped a link and left, looking for other places to drop a link. The people actually hanging around started noticing that their conversations were disrupted by pages and pages of links from anyone and everyone. Pretty soon all conversation stopped and then what was the use of the channel except for self promotion? Self promotion that didn't even work, since no one was reading it. Then, I had scary bad health news which shocked me into Ghosthood for a long time, some other systematic changes happened, and all that was left was an unread link drop. The Silence of the Bots. <h4>So what's happening now?</h4> <b>I still believe in my original goal.</b> I think that people who write good stories should be recognized and upvoted. The Discord channel is almost useless for that and I've set the permissions to restrict the links that can be posted. That channel is for discussion only and links to this post. Curation will occur in this post, usually twice a week. You can support the authors I curate by reading and upvoting the stories I post, and by following the Fiction Trail account on Streemian. <b>I promise</b> in return to try to find well written and interesting stories for you to check out. For now, that means stories I like, but the conversation on Fiction-Trail discord channel can add variety to that. But don't bother telling me about your story, I'll see you in conversation and judge for myself. <b>Tell me about authors you follow.</b> <center><h5>Self Promotion is discouraged.</h5></center> @fiction-trail would love to hear about Authors you've read and enjoyed. That's what the Discord channel is for, as well as discussions about how to write better stories. But curation happens on this post so that spam cannot happen. A normal curation post will follow on Thursday, since it would be unfair to connect an announcement post to a promotion post. Please look for that and support our Steemit Fiction Authors. - @baerdric
<center><h4>When a thousand words are worth a picture, <br> Flash Fiction paints directly on your mind.</h4> http://www.steemimg.com/images/2016/12/19/narrative-794978_960_720b086b.md.jpg </center> <center><h3>Fiction Trail <br>Stories to read, Authors to follow. </h3> </center> <hr> <center><h5>Flash Fiction Update Issue</h5></center> <hr> <a href="https://steemit.com/flashfiction/@debbietiyan/apocalypse"> <div class="pull-right"> https://steemitimages.com/DQmd7UoYJdfXqre9eEu1qdvM5fwxBmpnS5w4VA6vCGhgbpk/tree-3105390_640.jpg </div> "Apocalypse"</a> by @debbietiyan was oddly enjoyable to me. Dark and foreboding, cruel and aggressive, the poetic and mythic imagery reached claws towards injuries already in my psyche. It was the secret enjoyment of scratching at scabs on my soul. <p> <hr> <a href="https://steemit.com/writing/@grimjim/the-crooked-tree"> <div class="pull-right"> https://steemitimages.com/DQmdURJy4LLctpGFMGTxM4jScnLrH35gD51kxV9nwYNdmDb/image.png </div> "The Crooked Tree" </a> It took me a minute to get this, @grimjim, so I will try not to give it away. I was focused on the wrong character. I should have recognized it from some of my stranger dreams, dreams of ancient ways and forgotten lives. <hr> <p> <a href="https://steemit.com/fiction/@thatlovechild/flashfiction-two-girls-and-a-cat"> <div class="pull-right"> https://steemitimages.com/DQmcnHdo6TpBUi2BwabqBc9TVHnuMUKcrPKjcrZvU2ETM2Y/422B833F-0545-4E29-8713-4D3941FA9BF1.jpeg </div> "Two Girls and a Cat" </a> This could happen to any of us. One day everything seems great and the next you start to notice connections you somehow missed. @thatlovechild reminds us not look too closely unless we really want to know. <hr><p> <hr>We are trying to encourage great content creation on Steemit by building a community of fiction writers. On the <a href="https://discord.gg/k3zHukq">Fiction-Trail Discussion Group</a>, writers can meet other writers, get feedback on their work, and help others improve their skills. Please join us for discussion and lots of great stories under the #fiction tag.
<center><h4>A crowd, a wish-bot, and an interrogation gone wrong <br>Three authors, three series, three chapters</h4> http://www.steemimg.com/images/2016/12/19/narrative-794978_960_720b086b.md.jpg </center> <center> <h3> Fiction to read, Authors to follow. </h3> </center> <hr> <center><h5>Series Update Issue</h5></center> <hr> <a href="https://steemit.com/writing/@michelle.gent/new-story-again-written-exclusively-on-steemit-wip-bouncer-part-36"> <div class="pull-right"> https://steemitimages.com/DQmf2f9PWvK1sQsgaZEdVeFtDFJBxKvzu3jqgtDuPxsp8Jg/image.png</div> "Bouncer"</a> by veteran writer @michelle.gent is an exclusive and direct to Steemit full length story. This links to part 36 and all the previous chapters are linked in the intro. Because of my long absence, I'm just starting to catch up. <p> <hr> <a href="https://steemit.com/fiction/@everittdmickey/37d93i-q2"> <div class="pull-right"> https://steemitimages.com/DQme5k7K5hpqLuTgUuUiBim7RyiGyrA7U9hiVtD5ytinn4k/image.png </div> "Q2 : #37" </a>Wide ranging author @everittdmickey offers a new episode in his long running series. This chapter brings in an interesting new character with unexpected abilities. <hr> <p> <a href="https://steemit.com/fiction/@richq11/the-night-gods-iii-the-triumph-of-evil-xxix-gwendolyn-s-choice"> <div class="pull-right"> https://steemitimages.com/DQmbCngzKY3r34NwggUx79Nx7h4XBvNCd7R8r5FA5PysQpC/11b.jpg </div> "The Night Gods" </a> Another long read for those cold dark nights, @richq11 posted the 29th installment of the 3rd book of this series (assuming I read the Roman numerals correctly).<hr><p> <hr>We are trying to encourage great content creation on Steemit by building a community of fiction writers. On the <a href="https://discord.gg/k3zHukq">Fiction-Trail Discussion Group</a>, writers can meet other writers, get feedback on their work, and help others improve their skills. Please join us for discussion and lots of great stories under the #fiction tag.
<div class="pull-left"><center> <a href="https://discord.gg/k3zHukq"><img src="http://www.steemimg.com/images/2016/12/19/narrative-794978_960_720b086b.th.jpg"></a> <hr><a href="https://discord.gg/k3zHukq">The Fiction-Trail <br>Discussion Group</a> </center></div><p><h4>Commentary and Stories : </h4><br> In an anti-cataclysmic event, a solitary virtual pair separated into a new Universe, a mathematical point with no dimension at all. No inside, no outside, no time or matter, no up or down, just a philosophical instant in a theoretical space. At least for the first Chronon of the newly invented "Time".<p> The energy contained in the pair was literally all the energy the Universe could hold. Both all the positive energy and all the negative energy that could fit in a whole Universe. Way too much, in fact it was bursting full. Before the infinitely high amplitude wave could resonate even once, huge quantities had to be dispersed into trillions of direction, each a brand new dimension, of which creatures such as ourselves can only apprehend a few. A significant amount of the energy was dispersed into the large dimensions which had, by random chance, a huge number of Planck lengths available. We see that in our Universe as the CMBR, the cosmic microwave background radiation. Light, shining through space in all directions. Some of the rest of the energy went into other dimensions, with fewer or even negative numbers of planck lengths. The energy packed into what we call an "Electron" is in a dimension of somewhere between 1 and 100000000000 planck lengths. Almost all of the remaining energy is in dimensions we have no access to, where it makes infinitely diverse structures in directions we cannot look. Whole new worlds. All of this energy is structured by filamentary channels which writhe and pulse with life, making and breaking trillions of connections every second. The ones we see create galactic webs, immense nebula clouds, planetary systems and the life on Earth. The ones we don't see interconnect between the Universe we know and realms which most of us cannot imagine. <hr> <div class="pull-left"><center><h4>Like the metal balls<br> in a Magnetix structure</h4></center><br> https://steemitimages.com/DQmVDquUYwhyoJr9eqZiHYWbRPcr9y5rQrS496jMgt8upA4/20170921_192503.jpg </div> @internutter evokes the nexus of those streams of multidimensional energy. Each one is just a nexus, a connection, the spot of convergence between the paths we are on and the chaotic streaming of other, stranger dimensions. If you read enough of these flash stories, you begin to see a 3d Web of causality, some events and their participants are like us, others less so. The histories merge and cross, diverge and flow away. You may see someone you know, but existing in a different time and place. You may come to know new characters, who seem to mutate and grow as they move through other levels. <p> It's a whole groovy thing he's got going on there. Check it out below. - @baerdric <hr><a href="https://steemit.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-01874-e050-welcome-back"> <div class="pull-left">https://steemitimages.com/DQmaEvFm5ifWbktTd6BWPTWT92rjTLRxCN3PBvMJZqY7xio/canstockphoto23030982.jpg</div> <h4>Welcome Back</h4></a><p> Read this story. Even though it's just a small part of a grander vision that may only exist in our minds. I'm taking special notice of @internutter, because he produces so much fiction, of a consistently high quality, with incredible creativity and insight. If it would be fair, I could easily spend every day just writing commentary about his writing, because there's just that much of it. Most of it really good. But I can't. I have to cover other people, and there are so many other people... So when I do mention him I want to make that mention stand out. I'm not just buttering him up for some unknowable reason. He really writes a bunch of good stuff. I can't understand why he is not famous. But when he does inevitably become massively rich and famous, I hope he remembers this post. <hr> <center><h4>Please Upvote, Resteem, and Follow the Authors you enjoy in this newsletter</h4></center> <hr>We are trying to encourage great content creation on Steemit by building a community of fiction writers. On the <a href="https://discord.gg/k3zHukq">Fiction-Trail Discussion Group</a>, writers can meet other writers, get feedback on their work, and help others improve their skills. Please join us for discussion and lots of great stories under the #fiction tag.
<div class="pull-left"><center> <a href="https://discord.gg/k3zHukq"><img src="http://www.steemimg.com/images/2016/12/19/narrative-794978_960_720b086b.th.jpg"></a> <hr><a href="https://discord.gg/k3zHukq">The Fiction-Trail <br>Discussion Group</a> </center></div><p><h4>Commentary and Stories : </h4><br> After a long hiatus and with new and more limited goals, I am back to curate the best fiction I can find. However, I have a strong preference for speculative fiction and I don't plan to work against that urge. I insist on enjoying the process this time around. <p> So at least until I find a "partner in crime" to handle the other types of Fiction, you will probably see a strong tilt in one direction among my choices. That's just going to happen. But the important part will be the discussion and sharing with others. At this point the Fiction-Trail vote is not as large as it could be, but it will be growing. And we do have the Streemian Trail votes coming back any day now, so that makes our position much better. We can actually affect the payouts and the visibility of the authors we (I) select. That's what I always really wanted. I hate it when people write wonderful stories and nobody sees them. It feels like a kind of death to me, a whole Universe fading away into its own Heat Death. So please, read, comment, vote and resteem the selected authors if you enjoy their work. Original, creative content is the real value of STEEM. - @baerdric <hr> <div class="pull-left">https://steemitimages.com/0x0/https://steemitimages.com/DQmQjrrhx5qYfjSJPBCVMGcZiaRf3Zm5MTc17BLjnd4Qcw3/tumblr_o3fvsjD8tw1qmvvt6o1_1280.png</div> <a href="https://steemit.com/story/@snowmachine/yet-another-paramour-psycho-surreal-memoirs">Yet Another Paramour</a><p> It's not the darkness we are afraid of, it's the monsters that wait in the dark. <p>@snowmachine makes real to us the base drives and avoidances that rule our lives. I have barely touched the series, but I'm interested in how this all came to be. What do I see in that darkness, why do I resonate with such a tale? <hr> <div class="pull-left">https://steemitimages.com/DQmRnacTFrwTa9Pyxr3M9fGkSsv2gY2ubVEYdsKXjrHZakk/Dubai-Plans-To-Become-Global-Diamond-Trade-Hub.jpg</div> <a href="https://steemit.com/writing/@wordymouth/a-diamond-in-her-eye">A Diamond in Her Eye</a><p> Some people wander into our lives and stroll carelessly around, taking their meaning and form from -our- surroundings, the events of -our- lives. Then they just walk away, unharmed, untouched. What crimes might they commit? @wordymouth draws a picture of a brief encounter. <hr> <hr>We are trying to encourage great content creation on Steemit by building a community of fiction writers. On the <a href="https://discord.gg/k3zHukq">Fiction-Trail Discussion Group</a>, writers can meet other writers, get feedback on their work, and help others improve their skills. Please join us for discussion and lots of great stories under the #fiction tag.
<div class="pull-left"><center> <a href="https://discord.gg/k3zHukq"><img src="http://www.steemimg.com/images/2016/12/19/narrative-794978_960_720b086b.th.jpg"></a> <hr><a href="https://discord.gg/k3zHukq">The Fiction-Trail<br>Discussion Group</a> </center></div><p> It's unfortunate that this has remained idle for so long. We hope to bring it back, using it to encourage Fiction authors on Steemit. There have been major changes in the general process, but we will definitely be finding, reading, evaluating and voting on your original content in the coming weeks. Should be great for everyone! Please use the #fiction or #fiction-trail tags to help us find your stories. Only a few can be chosen, but they will be those which are original, interesting, and well written. Check back to find great fiction in our community, and support the authors you enjoy with your votes. <hr>We are trying to encourage great content creation on Steemit by building a community of fiction writers. On the <a href="https://discord.gg/k3zHukq">Fiction-Trail Discussion Group</a>, writers can meet other writers, get feedback on their work, and help others improve their skills. Please join us for discussion and lots of great stories under the #fiction-trail tag.
The smell of the body was starting to get to Bone as we drove down the highway, the car reeked of fresh blood and sewer leakage. Bone ran into a pothole and flattened the driver side tire. "F*ck! I think we have a flat" yelled Bone "Don't tell me that shit!" that's the last thing I needed to hear. "Do we have a spare in the back?" "Hopefully," said Bone pulling over. I rushed to the trunk to grab the jack and spare. All, of sudden I saw bright lights flashed behind me. "Shit the cops!" yells Bone, Shut the trunk. Two cops got out the car with their hands on their guns. "You guys alright, "one of them said as they walked up. "Yea everything is ok just a flat, officer." "Show me some Identification please," One officer said. No problem sir here you go. One officer grabbed the ID's and ran them then came back whispered to the other officer looked at each other suspiciously, and pulled out their guns walking back towards the car. “Driver, I need you to reach for the handle slow and open the door”, the Officer said. "Passenger, do not fucking move or you will be next in handcuffs," One officer said. “Officer what's the problem we were just changing our flat”, He said. Wrong asshole, apparently your buddy here has a warrant out for his arrest. So legally, I can do wtf I want and since you are being a smartass I, therefore, need to see what's inside the trunk?" "Sure, go ahead," I said. The officer walked toward the trunk when suddenly, they received a call "Officer down, officer down 10-85!" "10-4 in route. Looks like God was with you ladies today we have more important shit to handle, stay out of trouble one officer said "That was close let us change this shit and get the hell out of here," said Bone. Back on the road, we were still looking for a secured place to dump the body, my head was still baffled by what just happened, tonight in a whole was one I'll never forget. All, of a sudden red, spotted a wooded area we pulled over, got out, grabbed the shovels and started digging. "Let's get the bastard buried so I can get home to wifey," I said. "Don't forget about the deal in the morning with Hector?" said Bone. "Oh, yea I almost forgot, man I'm getting fed up with this guy," I said. "Yea (laughing) I" might just get rid of his ass," said Bone. " You see what you got us into tonight," I said, and you don't want to fuck with the Columbians trust me. I pulled out my phone and had 20 missed calls from my girl Jane. "You still messing with Jane psycho ass I see," said Bone. "Yea she not going, nowhere," I said. "That's your f*cking problem you to busy chasing these hoes instead of money," said Bone. "Whatever just grab the damn body," I said. We ended up getting away that day leaving no trace that's just how Bone and I worked we were going to get the job done no matter what and eliminate anyone who steps in our way. Later that night we decided to go to the dollhouse to blow off some steam. I ended up leaving with my regular that night and ended up making it home late. I snuck into to bed without Jane noticing, well I thought I did. A few hours later I hear "Oh yeah bitch!" said Jane, as she slaps me out of my sleep with my phone in her hand I knew it had to be serious from the rage in her eyes. "What the fuck Jana!? " I said Jumping out of bed. "What's up with all these hoes in your fucking phone"? she said angrily. " You worried about the wrong shit," I said as I snatched the phone from her, "What the fuck are you going through my phone for anyway?" she tried to slap me again, but I saw it coming I step back and grab her arm but slaps me with her other. " I'm getting tired of you need to get your shit and go," Jane said crying. In the middle of the argument my phone rings. "Let me guess it's one of your hoes"? said Jane "Chill its business, Hello? "What the hell you doing"? "I'm outside I told you I'll be here at 12 Bristol," said Bone "Oh shit I forgot we had to do that I'm getting ready now" Jane looks at me with a disappointing stare" Where the fuck you think you going?" "I got to go make a drop really quick, I'll be back," I said. "A drop? "See that's the shit I'm talking about every time shit gets heated between us something always comes up," said Jane. You knew the type of lifestyle I lived before you got with me I said. "Fuck your lifestyle and you're not going anywhere," said Jane. "How do you think the bills get paid, I don't have time for your shit right now," I said. I walked to the closet to get dressed and got ready to leave. "When you get back we must talk about our situation," Said Jane. "Yea we do I feel bad about what happened, I love you, I'll make it up to you I promise babe," I said walking out the door. You say that every time, nothing has changed "I need actions, not promises Bristol" said, Jane as I walked out the door. "Change of plans the connect said we are meeting at a new location," said Bone "The f*ck for?" I said. "I don't know he was acting weird when I talked to him," said Bone. "I can't put my finger on it, but I got a bad feeling about this guy Bone," I said. Stop being a pussy said, Bone. All sudden his phone rings" speaking of the devil this him now" said Bone. "We are on the way now be there in about 15min." "What did he say?" I asked. "He told me to make it 10min, I don't know what's his problem talking to me crazy, I got something for his ass though but anyways whatever happened with you and that bitch from last night?" said Bone." I took her to this motel and blew her back out and she sent me some nudes this morning Jane got on my ass bro" I said laughing. "You stay getting caught up, " said Bone we both laugh then Bone turned the radio up as we headed to our destination. I felt a little funny like something wasn't right. That drive on the way to the deal I didn't know what it was, but I had a bad feeling in my gut like it’s a setup and every time I get this feeling I'm right. When we arrived, the Columbians was standing outside looking pissed. Where's the product ? said Hector as we walked up I threw a duffle bag with 4 kilos of cocaine " Where's the money?" said Bone Hector looked at one of his men holding a suitcase as a sign to hand over the money "I still don't understand why we had to change locations" says Hector I thought Hector wanted to change locations I said to myself confusingly when all of a sudden four motorcycles pull up, and kills Hector and his crew and shoots Bone and I all while a black SUV pulls up and they pick Bone up and puts him in the back of the SUV. "He's waking up!" I heard a lady's voice said as the vision cleared. I was in a bed in what clearly looked like a hospital. When I woke up, it wasn't like waking up in the morning, in that it didn't feel like it had been over a year. I was weaker and confused. Damn Bone... To be continued  [source](www.pixbay.com) >>> Kindly upvote and Resteem
Monstrous ravens descended from a tumultuous midnight sky, and before morning they had pecked the eyes out of all the humans on Earth.  They swooped down in millions of vast flocks, as far as the eye could see. The frightening sound of the incessant flapping of their wings was deafening. A blanket of black chaos surrounded the planet, breaking through windows of buildings, homes, and cars. Nothing could stop them. Nothing… After their savage attacks, all the pathetic beings had been blinded. Before their vision no longer existed, most people were only sightless within the hollow chambers of their self- serving minds. Where beautiful eyes once were, only hollow sockets remained. The ravenous ravens feasted on the warm, juicy eyes. And then they attacked the humans, ripping away their bloodied flesh, and devouring the bodies with sharp dagger beaks. There was no escaping the black birds of death. Many had crawled in unimaginable pain, others flailed their arms, attempting to fend them off. Their efforts were futile, as blood painted what remained, billions of skeletons scattered, and broken everywhere. Some entombed in stone churches, where they had been enjoying midnight masses. The world had become a burial place for decaying bones. The multitudes of tiny insects, and the other animals, had their lost planet back. No longer would they have to fear the humans, or run away from their stupidity and selfishness. They came before us, and then they survived, and we didn’t. The circle of life had returned to its primeval state. Was it Darwin’s revenge, survival of the fittest? Or was it God’s angry hands upon us? No, of course not silly. It was Satan. And that is how the end of it all happened. [image source](www.pixabay.com) I know you enjoyed it. So kindly support by upvoting this post. Thanks
This is is a short flash, Enjoy  “Wow! says the budding author. “Pooky, my sweet little honey pie pumpkin, you should see what I just wrote. I think I may be a literary genius. In fact, I'm sure of it.” He gives the young woman a great big smile as she enters the room in a sexy little see through nightie, and red high heels. The writer is completely oblivious to her stunning body, and oozing sexuality. He is immersed in his novel. “Read this. It's fantastic!” She bends down, and leans against his back, so he can feel her warm body, and begins reading the words on his Apple screen. Loverboy is still ignoring her sexual advances. Tonight she has chosen to wear the perfume that turns him on the most, Instant Gratification. “So, do you like it,” he says, still not acknowledging her voluptuous body. “Look, mister Hemingway, are we going to have sex, or not, tonight"? She stands half naked, feet apart, hands on hips, and shoots him a look of total frustration, with her sapphire blues eyes ablaze. “Well….. Pooky. He hesitates, and glances back at his computer screen, drooling over the beautiful words he has written. “Is there anyway we can hold off on that until tomorrow tonight. I promise I'll make it up to you. How bout if I wear my Superman outfit?” He winks at her, still not looking at her body. Now she is pissed. “There's three things I've got to say to you shithead. Number one, you're an asshole. Number two, you're not a genius.” She starts walking out of the room. “Wait Pooky, Sweetie Pie, you said there were three things. What's the third one?” She glares back at him, winks, and fondles her breasts, while rolling her tongue slowly around her cherry red lips. “"Number three, your writing sucks!” She giggles, and sashays out of the room, her curvy little derriere illuminated by the voyeuristic moonlight peeking through the window. 😛
https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3178/2996714175_ba8aecd94b_b.jpg Ramblings inspired by manic frustrations on a sleepless November night. I just wanted to share my madness or... whatever the h*ll this nonsense is. The rhythmic rush of the interstate is polluting my ears. 18 wheelers rush anywhere the hell away from here. It’s never-ending noise. Maybe I should drive a truck but I’ve heard it said, “It’s no life for a woman – ya’ know,,, truck stops, prostitutes and brutish – foolish, sexist men.” This November night past 1 am someone’s in a hurry. Maybe they’re angry. Maybe their motor’s turning - they’re movin’ to some dare(ish) careless feel-good, foot down – pedal wild streak in their heart, beating quick-like. He’s got some supped up auto paid by mommy who has a work ethic unlike him. Pshht, millennials. (?) Then again, her nose is upturned – no better off. Someone’s out their drinkin’. An angel hushed, “Don’t leave – not yet” I’d be somewhere, where the sound can’t touch. Maybe I’d get used to the tinnitus. I’d be lonely in my obsessions. I’m a slave either way. The world keeps calling – says, “join me” But, I don’t want to be here. “Want” Want. Want. Want. Selfish or what? I just don’t care. (“But what’s a life of service?” Little Voice questions.) I can’t give in to this fucking game. I’ll eat cans of beans, spinach – ravioli with a plastic spoon (the same spoon more than once). I’ll live in the back of a pick-up truck. I’m not fit for society. But I’m here, so - fuck. Maybe it’s just perspective anyhow. I’m probably living in some delusion that evolves with me with age - some excuse to rationalize my instability. Take me as I am – I am aloof Impulsive Sensory craving Undisciplined Delusional Irresponsible Careless Inattentive (That one’s better off ‘cause I ain’t easy.) I want to create I want to speak I want to break the Fucking noise. I don’t think anyone cares what it means to be human anymore. We’re forced to be absentminded shapeshifters fitting business models and wearing t-shirts with branded labels selling perfume to cover up the shit that we’re putting out. So, what’s all this talk about art? What’s its place? And who gives a fuck? Who even reads anymore? Who has time to give a fuck? Who has the energy to give a fuck? Someone with an inheritance? ‘Cause I’m sleepless trying to give a fuck and survive. I could give up. I could give in. I could spend all my time making money to watch it dissolve into nothingness. I could come home and escape into another dimension through a screen that feeds me a story of some life more extravagant, more interesting than I could realistically (statistically) attain. I could do what most people do. but I can’t. I can’t stop dreaming. I’m terrified to stop dreaming. I don’t want to waste my time. I haven’t watched but like 5 movies this year. I don’t want to stop wondering, to stop thinking outside of the box to stop coming up with ideas (however few I pursue) to stop imagining that there is greatness within me – that I have a duty to contribute something to this world. I can’t stop. It’s a madness, a convulsion, an obsession. And it has consumed me. And because of this, there’s no place for me in society. Maybe I’ll be like the rest and the idealist in me will get beat out and my eyes will grow listless and it’ll be simple, I’ll be simple. [Site where I got the image from](https://www.flickr.com/photos/andischmeling/2996714175) # Kindly vote for me. Thanks
[Check out my previous post](https://steemit.com/life/@nmalove/happy-birthday-to-me-counting-my-blessings-20171027t83343720z)  [SOURCE](http://b1.img.mobypicture.com/991392686e69ea830bee347eb8ddfae7_view.jpg) Stefan Casavetes lay face up on his bed, naked, his arms folded behind his perfectly shaped head, waiting for the hour of darkness to arrive. The bare bedroom walls, and ceiling were painted black to darken the room during the day. There were no photographs, paintings, or mirrors. Silence permeated the cold, unembellished room. It had been almost a full week since he had tasted the blood of a beautiful young virgin. The innocent ones were the victims he craved, and desired the most. Tonight he wanted one pure in thought, and physically untouched by lustful hands, the most delicious of Earth’s lovely, sensual creatures. Stefan could taste, smell, and feel her in his mind. Young, virtuous, pure ones, smelled, and tasted so much better than the others. He was becoming aroused.  [SOURCE](http://www.nalayachakana.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/Autumn-leaves-femfulness.jpg) Being a handsome, dark haired young man, with alluring green eyes, and a perfect body, made the quest much easier. The exquisite creatures easily fell into his charming web of deceit, and brutality. The lovelies were all sexually mesmerized by the beast of the night. Stefan portrayed a young vampire sex god perfectly. As a lover he was magnificent. As a sadistic killer he was flawless. Every single detail of his conquests fell effortlessly into place, like a magician's puzzle.  [SOURCE](https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTY6MbbulCfXX-vLLvcgj2X_zIWk5uocSxIHkrftR8w-L3YlXEW2hlC6UhLFA) As he stood under an ancient oak tree, near midnight, smoking an expensive English cigarette, he caught a first glimpse of his gorgeous victim. From a hundred feet away he could smell her innocence. She was an Aphrodite of the night, walking towards him, with a body of a devil's angel, and the sanctity of a naive virgin. His thirst for blood was too intense to wait until after he had hours long passionate sex with her, artfully deflowering her beautiful lotus blossom, before sucking the blood from her young body. This encounter would be a brief one. Stephan licked his full lips and fangs. He could already taste her. “Excuse me young lady, haven't I seen you before? It's hard to forget a woman as beautiful as you.” She was captivating. A perfect face, body, and smile. Her skin was a radiant pearl white, with a smooth flawless quality to it. Her lips were cherry red, and she was blessed with long, silky raven hair. What most tempted him was her luminous, emerald green eyes. She was his most perfect victim ever. As much as he wanted to enjoy the feel of her soft skin against his, and taste her body, Stefan's urge for blood was too strong to wait any longer. “I don't think so. My name is Alexandria. She was instantly mesmerized by his smile, and sensual gray eyes. He sensed she had already fallen under his spell. All women wanted what Stefan had to give them. If that meant giving up their virginity to a total stranger, they didn't care. Deep, emotional feelings stripped away her virtuous nature, weakening her knees, and making her lean body shiver in anticipation. Alexandria wanted him to be her first. If that made her dirty, so be it. “Alexandria…. I love your name.” He inhaled the sweet vanilla odor of her body cream. “My name is Stefan Casavetes. I'm just out for my evening walk through the park. At midnight, I'm usually a solitary stroller. I like it that way.” Looking deep into her eyes, she melted. Stefan's next move was bold, but it rarely failed. He touched her face, and moved his hand gently down a velvet cheek, and onto her neck. Her body quivered. This was the first time she had felt so good, yet helpless. Was this really happening. She didn't want it to end. He traced her lips with his strong fingers, and put one in her mouth. She licked it and moaned. Alexandria’s inhibitions vanished, and she was eagerly ready to give into his sexual prowess over her. Stefan knew the foolish little creature had stepped into his trap. Pulling her up against his warm body, he kissed the lush wanton lips deeply, holding her cheeks firmly in his strong hands. She didn't want him to stop. The aggressiveness of her wet tongue, rolling around in his mouth, excited him. He desperately wanted her body, but it wasn’t going to happen. The craving for blood was too strong.  [SOURCE](https://www.stayathomemum.com.au/cache/400x420-0/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/interview-with-the-vampire.jpg) Alexandria was moving her body up and down against his. As she began touching him, her moans became louder. He glanced around the park. They were alone. Stephan ran his tongue up and down her delicious neck, and she loved it. His mouth opened wide, exposing his sharp fangs, reflecting small glints of moonlight. He bit down hard on her soft skin, the blood began flowing inside of him. Ecstasy consumed him. She didn't stop moaning, and had no desire to resist. Her sexual urges were exploding. She was close to the edge. A final gasp, and a whimper, and the limp body fell into his arms. Alexandria was dead. After satisfying his need for innocence, Stefan let her body fall to the ground. He licked the blood off his fangs, then turned, and walked away. Stefan Casavetes' night of hunting was over.  [SOURCE](https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRa9SG0azRJxBsHYx8LGs6l8klE9pGjSEShhNUH-Gk8LRCVjtqKEuOV8znylw) Thanks for reading..
Hi steemians, Enjoy and tell me what you feel about this story  The tall man, with a dark chiseled face, in a blue neon uniform, flashed a red light in the eyes of the young boy, and then turned to his right and flashed the father. They both squinted when the light struck their reddened eyes. Lips down in sad frowns. Hands to their sides trembling. Ashen faces fought to hold back tears, a sure sign of weakness. The highest prices always belonged to the strongest. Weak families were discarded, and sent to the camp, a place no one wanted to end up. “Are there anymore bids for the Quentin family? Look how strong and attractive they are. You won’t find any better.” The auctioneer was ready to slam the wood gavel down hard on the podium, when a wealthy investor stepped up close to the stage, so he could get a closer look at the mother. She was a rare beauty from Spain, an exotic dark haired woman in her late twenties. Just what he’d been waiting for. They would make a good replacement for the Keller family. After seven years he had become bored with them. He was ready to send them on their way to the retirement camp. ‘Sold! For three hundred thousand Giblets to Master Torrance. **Thank You sir**.” He raised his hand, motioning for the security guards to escort the Quentin family off stage, and return them to their cubicle. Two gorilla sized oriental men with black slicked back hair, wearing militaristic red uniforms, led them down off the gray cement stage with a large screen at the rear, used to show the good looking family living their daily lives. As normal, all of them were naked. Who wants to watch families wearing clothing? What a boring hobby that would be. The voyeuristic society of the wealthy had become much more demanding over time. Now only the most perfect families were wanted by the Masters. Only society's’ richest could afford the costly hobby of family watching. Master Torrance gulped down a bottle of his favorite beer, rubbed his pot belly with his chubby pale fingers, and belched loudly. His coal black eyes opened wide as he walked up to the naked, raven haired mother, after she had stepped down from the stage. Mrs. Arabella Quentin was the most beautiful mother he had ever seen. He moved his palm across her velvety smooth shoulder and down her back. She was trembling, and he liked it. The third richest man in the world was a pervert. No surprise this was his favorite hobby. Why have a dog or a cat, when you can have your very own human family. Dozens of surveillance cameras were scattered throughout their living quarters. Privacy was non existent. As a gesture of kindness the Quentins would be allowed to wear clothing three days a week. He didn’t want them to think he was taking advantage of them. Afterall, they were his pets. Spoiling them would always bring him extreme pleasure. He slowly sauntered around her, looking up and down as he went. Before he walked away he leaned up next to the soft nakedness of the mother’s flesh, and whispered in her ear. “Goodbye my dear young girl. Now you are mine.” He looked deep into her alluring, blue eyes. Her slender body visibly shaking, she was trying hard as humanly possible, to hold back rising tears. The Master kissed her on the cheek, his large nostrils inhaling the sweet lilac aroma from her bath water. The auction always made sure the beautiful young ladies smelled wonderful, to help entice a prospective buyer. The husband glanced sideways at the Master, for a quick moment, gritting his teeth, hands tightly fisted against his bare thighs. He then turned his glazed grey eyes forward, and stared straight ahead, without saying a word. The game had begun. # <center>THANKS FOR READING</center>  
 [cover photo was Edited @michaelcj with inshot app] # <center><code>**The Closet**</code></center> The scratching in the door increased in intensity and volume. Karen shrank back further into the closet, pulling the bottom of some hanging garments close to her as if they would somehow protect her. Again the scratching. A meow. A cat, it was one of the damn cats. Had to be Mr. Mouser. The gray tabby had taken a shine to her during the first walk through of the house when they were discussing camera setup. More scratching and meowing. "Pssst, go away cat." She hissed through the slats of the closet door. Mr.Mouser's tail flicked up and quivered as he heard Karen's voice. "A damn cat is going to get me killed" she thought to herself as she pressed up against the door trying to catch the cat's attention and get him away from her hiding place. The door knob to the bedroom rattled just a little, as if it was being tested. Karen pushed backwards from the front of the closet, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Oh God, oh God." She strained to hear any more noise from the direction of the door but could just hear the damn cat rubbing against the door of the closet. "Please." She thought."Please go away cat." A shadow fell across the slats of the closet door and just as quickly was gone again. Karen squirmed as quietly as she could into the farthest corner of the closet. She balled up a fallen sweater and held it against her mouth as if it would somehow protect her with staying silent. A bang, more shadows. "Oh God, are there more than one?" Her mind racing, she blindly reached around her trying in vain to find anything she could use as a weapon. Mr. Mouser gave a loud hiss from outside the closet. Silence. She couldn't hear anything. THe cat was still, the creaking floorboards were keeping their silence. The whole house seemed to be holding its breath. A shadow darted across the slats of the door, there was a yowl of pain and almost pure terror. A loud thud from what was probably the wall. More silence. Karen strained to hear anything. But all she could hear was the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. The handle to the closet moved just a little, but it definitely moved. Karen pulled her legs up against herself, trying to physically get away from whatever was at the door. The handle moved again, this time turning a little and a gentle push, testing if the door was locked or not. The handle moved back its normal resting place after it pressed again the lock mechanism. How much could a flimsy lock like that keep out? The handle turned again. It turned until it hit the latch of the lock. The door shook as it was pulled and pushed as something tried to open it. Karen squealed and pushed her leg against the flimsy door hoping somehow it would keep those things at bay. The door exploded in the shower of splinters, Karen looked up and screamed. # <center>SIX MONTHS EARLIER</center> "OK, Mitch what's the great idea?" Karen sat down at the table in the small messy office. Her TV producer grinned at her over his horn rimmed glasses. "Ghosts." He said simply, his grin getting even wider. Karen stretched and looked at him. "Ghosts are bullshit." Mitch looked at her crestfallen, "Really, you're one of those people huh." "One of what people Mitch?" Karen got up to leave. She looked at him almost pitifully, "Everyone knows ghosts are bullshit." <hr>  # <center><code>**THANKS FOR READING **</code></center> Recent Posts * <center> [FREE GIVEAWAY TO EVERY MINNOWS WITH BIG DREAMS | CONTEST INSPIRED BY @SURPASSINGGOOGLE](https://steemit.com/steemnaira/@michaelcj/free-giveaway-to-every-minnows-with-big-dreams-or-contest-inspired-by-surpassinggoogle-20171010t104430838z) </center> * [AFRICA, I AM](https://steemit.com/poetry/@michaelcj/africa-i-am) 
Okay, all you science fiction writers. This just hit me an hour ago, and I had to get it down. “Men are scum,” Larena said, staring at the monitor. “Then again, women are bitches, so I guess things even out.” Braxx laughed. “I love how you see both sides of an argument.” She turned to face him. He held her gaze for a moment, then turned away. She chuckled. “You’re a different kind of scum than most men, though. You don’t try to deny what you are — especially not to yourself. You don’t give a shit about anything or anyone. It’s always been about you.” Braxx shook his head. “No. Not always. Once upon a time, I *did* care.” “Let me guess — she broke your heart.” He stared at her. “No. I had to kill her.” *End scene* “Please don’t tell me you’re going to do anything stupid,” she said. Braxx shook his head. “I’m not. We’ve got the weapons onboard and we’re going to get the hell out of orbit. The natives will have to fend for themselves.” “Ten thousand unarmed peacers against an army of craftsmen. It’ll be a bloodbath.” He nodded. “Yeah. It will. Arming the peacers won’t make a difference. The only thing that would accomplish is we’d lose out on the shipment of queller guns. This way, at least we can make a profit off the next guy.” Larena smiled. It chilled him. <hr>  [CREDIT](https://www.deviantart.com/tag/ryokookami) <hr> “Like I once said — you’re a different kind of scum, Braxx. That’s why we work so well.” *End scene* The old peacer coughed once, blood spotting the floor he lay on. With a tremendous effort of will, he turned himself over. Those eyes stared at Braxx. “Kill me,” he said, his voice surprisingly strong. “No. That’s not who I am.” “You’re leaving my people to be slaughtered. It doesn’t matter whether you bring the death or allow others to do so — it is who you are.” “I don’t kill in cold blood.” “Kill me. I do not wish to see the horrors you have unleashed upon my world.” *End scene* “Larena, you’re in command. I’m staying behind.” She stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?” “I’m staying. These people — they need for me to stay, they need for me to fight.” “Braxx, listen to me — you’re infected or something. You’re not making any sense. This isn’t your fight, remember? Come on — you’re scum.” “Something happened to me when I killed the old man. I don’t know. Call it some kind of fucked-up ‘awakening.’ Whatever it is, I know if I walk away from this, I’ll wind up hating myself even more than I usually do.” “You’re sure about this?” she asked. “Yeah. Leave tonight and don’t tell the crew until you’re underway. I’m afraid one or two of them might think about doing something stupid.” She snorted. “I’d say you’re doing enough stupid for everyone, Braxx.” *End scene* Jel’Al stared at the monitor. The craftsmen were everywhere. With the last of the ammunition used up, the peacers had no choice but to await their doom. The young man stared at Braxx, then said, “It is said that when we die, those of our family who have died before us await our arrival and prepare a big celebration. There is much rejoicing when family meets with family.” “Yeah, that’s great. I don’t have family, though, so I guess I’m shit out of luck, huh?” Jel’Al shook his head. “No, Braxx. When you die, you will be with all the families here, for you are a part of us all now.” *End scene* Ken-Drellus looked lost. “What is happening? Who is fighting the craftsmen? Where did they come from?” Braxx stared in the sky. One hundred fully armed quindrones — moving through the craftsmen as if the invaders were stationery. Gamma charges were going off and the craftships were obviously outmaneuvered and outgunned. “Son of a bitch,” Braxx muttered, “the bitch came back.” *End scene* Larena looked him up and down. “You look like shit,” she said. “Yeah? I was going for the ‘dashing rogue’ look.” “Miserable fail, Braxx.” “Mind telling me what the hell you’re doing here?” She shrugged, kicking a piece of craftsman aside with her boot. “I got to thinking that if I left you to die, I’d have to spend a whole lot of time finding someone to replace you — someone who was good at screwing people over while making them believe you’d just given them the keys to Heaven.” He nodded. “Yeah. Makes sense.” Her dark eyes narrowed. “You prick.” “What?” “You know, don’t you?” He frowned. “Know what?” “Don’t play innocent, Braxx. That was the one act you could never master.” “Fine. I know, okay? When did you know, though?” Larena thought about it. “After we left orbit. It was something Edwind said, right after I told him you were staying behind. He said, ‘It’ll be really weird not seeing Braxx by your side.’” “I’m lost,” Braxx told her. “We were always at each other’s side and somehow, we always had each other’s backs. You never played games with me and you never tried to do anything stupid like protect me or nurture me or any of the other crap guys pull. You just kept letting me be me. You’re the first man who was ever my equal. I didn’t want to lose that.” Braxx slowly smiled. “So…does this mean that — “ She unholstered her weapon. “Probably best you stop talking right now.” He nodded. “Roger that.” *End scene*
When The Girl hugged me goodbye, I didn’t think she was actually leaving. We have had our ups and downs, and I knew she'd been feeling a little lost lately, but for three years, she'd been the one constant in my life that actually made me happy.  [Photo Credit](http://www.gettyimages.com/photos/black-woman-cooking) So, when she would come up behind me while I was making pancakes and hugged me, saying she was leaving, I didn’t think anything of it. She'd been acting weird for the past couple of days, and I just assumed this was part of whatever the hell it was that was bothering her. Then, two days later, her family told me she had gone to Europe. *** Emeka stared at me, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked. “Why the hell did she go to Europe?” “I don't know. One minute, I'm making pancakes and the next thing, she's leaving me and heading for Europe.” “Because of your pancakes?” he asked. I shook my head. “Pretty sure that wasn’t it.” “What the hell are you going to do, then?” “Nothing I can do,” I told him. “The Girl’s gone, you know? I guess the only thing to do is just forget her.”  [PHOTO CREDIT](https://www.singleblackmale.org/tag/communication/) *** "Of all the things I thought my hands could do, waving goodbye was the least of them. But then I met you, and I couldn't wait to say goodbye. It wasn't because you grated on me or I found you disagreeable, especially not in the looks department. It was just the opposite. I thought you were a knockout right from the get-go. There's no room in my life for entanglements, not in my line of work anyway. You came in right, but I had nothing left to give or to share with you. Time was, i would gladly have made room in my heart - nay, the room would have of itself been made- for you. Well Furnished, warm, cozy and inviting. All You could ever want - ever dream to be - would be granted. But they came inside without a warning - the Others - and took it all away. They stripped me naked and left me empty. It came to me naturally, the bitterness, to fill the void they left. Even though I found solace in my loneliness, I have nothing left for Us. So we part ways." Of course, the thing about forgetting someone like The Girl is that it isn’t easy. She’d always been the one there for me, always been by my side. When things got shitty, she’d help me get through it. We were good together. At least, I thought we were. But, it looked like I was wrong about that. “Part of it was that she didn’t think you had a plan,” my sister said, when I told her what happened. We were in her apartment and I was smoking. The Girl always got onto me about smoking and I tried to cut back — but right now, I figured I had a really good reason to smoke my fu*king brains out. The Girl was gone. It had been a week, and every day, I figured things would get easier and that I'd miss her less and less. Every day, I realized I'd just been lying to myself. “I had a plan, I was going to figure out what I wanted out of life and I was going to go after it and I was going to marry her.” “She probably got tired of waiting, you know. After three years, you should have been a little better prepared.”says Ijeoma I stared at her. “You know what happens when you prepare, Ijeoma ? You make all these plans and you get everything lined up and then before you can do a goddamned thing, it all blows up in your face. “I wanted to just let something happen, you know? If it just happens and you don't plan for it, you don't get fu*ked by the universe.” “Yeah,” she said, softly, “and while you were waiting for something to happen, something sure as hell did — and she's gone, brother. She's gone.”  [PHOTO CREDIT](http://defendernetwork.com/lifestyle/family-relationships/questions-ask-entering-couples-therapy/) *** Well this is a fictional story and I pray it doesn't happen to me. You know what? It's @michaelcj and I'm just keeping it real. <hr> TOP POST FROM @MICHAELCJ [STEEMIT UNTALENTED CONTEST ](https://steemit.com/steemit/@michaelcj/my-entry-for-steemit-untalented-contest-by-surpassinggoogle-who-are-you-2017929t162627699z) Yesterday [THE DEEP END](https://steemit.com/writing/@michaelcj/the-deep-end-2017928t12515595z) - 2 days Ago(Trending) [MY CONTRIBUTION FOR THE EVENT "STEEMIT IN NIGERIA" VIDEO SKIT PROMOTION](https://steemit.com/promote-steem/@michaelcj/my-contribution-for-the-event-steemit-in-nigeria-video-skit-promotion-2017926t144031102z) - 4 days Ago <hr> SHARED TO MY FACEBOOK FAN PAGES [MICHAELCJ 4812k LIKES](https://www.facebook.com/michaelcjsteemit) [ NAIJATVBASE 2,620 likes ](https://www.facebook.com/Naijatvbasecom ) <hr> KINDLY RESTEEM IF YOU ENJOYED THIS POST
<html> <p><img src="http://i.imgur.com/TomoGV4.jpg" width="852" height="480"/></p> <p>image credit: <a href="http://i.imgur.com/TomoGV4.jpg">imgur</a></p> <p><em><strong>Two weeks earlier</strong></em></p> <blockquote><strong>There was wild fire news about a new substance turning up on the street, word on the streets moved faster than cops responding to a distress call on Beverly hills, they say its some really good stuff. The seemingly effortless work I put in moving my product, the infamous new birdie powder, a monster prepared in my kitchen had gone more viral than a Kardashian sextape.</strong></blockquote> <p><strong>Should I be worried? </strong></p> <p><strong>Well, yes and with good enough reasons to, I had broken into the drug market and everyone is in search of this new good stuff, good news? I had other dealers began to loosing their strip and customer drove past them like they never existed,</strong><em><strong> loyalty & fix don't mix,</strong></em><strong> my corners and alleys drew in all kinds of fiends, local, prostitutes, baby mamas looking all blood drained like Dracula just had a snack off them, college kids, lawyers and even CEOs behind tinted screens rolled up searching for my product, it was just a matter of time before my identity would be revealed mindless of my multiple measures taken to it, all kinds of flies circle around good shit, thus risking my position, integrity and even life as a shadow cat by cutting the flow of funds to Big Ben's account, this was bound to raise an alarm eventually and I could foresee drug Lords & rival gangs soon viewing me as a common threat that needed immediate and not so delicate attention.</strong></p> <p>That was half of the story, yeah cliche how we Men keep giving credit to the strength of a vixen, a modern day Nefertiti, <strong>I had been seduced by Big Bens beautiful daughter</strong> Adriana, silly? Yeah, ain't We all bound to slip for a good mix of cash and a temptress?</p> <blockquote><em><strong>I swear could still feel the warmth of her tender skin, the taste of her cherry red lips and the fragrance of her dark long Cherokee looking hair. I must admit the sex was better than great, She sure took advantage of the lust in my eyes and with the snap of her fingers I was compelled into getting my hands bloody and dirty like a zombie with no questions or show of fear.</strong></em></blockquote> <p><strong>Sensing how hungry for success I was, Adriana told me about a new cargo shipment she was expecting and how she needed the goods to hit the streets running, but needed someone who knew the street to handle the business and not her scheming associates.</strong></p> <p><img src="http://i.imgur.com/VSPAY7r.jpg" width="609" height="612"/></p> <p>image credit: <a href="http://i.imgur.com/VSPAY7r.jpg">imgur</a></p> <blockquote>Earlier on in life I had witness gang violence and drug wars take away every brother I had in the hood and their family just to make a statement, they got on the bad end of the eagles nest with the mafias and had to pay the ultimate price, I had also done some really horrific things on their behalf, part time sicario was on my resume.</blockquote> <blockquote>Now here I was attempting to cross a line hypocritically by cutting their line of supply and demand... Foot down heading down this road there was no turning back, <strong>"highway to hell"</strong> playing at the back of my mind for the better part of it.</blockquote> <p>Adriana and I met with the supplier at one of my abandoned warehouses, pier 7, we came to exchange some street mint Benjamin's for some of that good stuff, I had my boys, the ones I trusted, scout the place and take positions, just in case.</p> <p>The security around the block was extra beefed up. Not even hood rats were in sight. The deal went smoothly, We got some good amount of bricks for our money,<em><strong> a single line for this stuff got me feeling like a Kingpin, bad boy Scarface.</strong></em></p> <blockquote>That night my girl and I <em><strong>broke the head board screwing hard </strong></em><strong>as well...fuck</strong>, after doing lines over and over again.</blockquote> <blockquote>Yes it was the drug life and afterlife, I began to feel like an achiever, my finger tips began to bite, She could see the over ambition written in my eyes, I'm a born hustler, I grew up in the streets, running this was an adventure I had been looking forward to.</blockquote> <blockquote>Morning came and i made a few calls to meet with some of my brothers from the hood I knew were real deep in the game to get our blue bird on the block, more work.</blockquote> <p>My boys partied that night as we hit the streets.</p> <p>We used hookers to get the juice to the loyal folks who wouldn't like to get caught by the cops...<strong>Chickens!</strong></p> <p><br></p> <p><br></p> <h3><strong>To Be Continued.....</strong></h3> <p><strong>Our journey still continues, stay with us as we entertain you with these thrilling tales, that will brighten a boring day, More to come. Yours.</strong></p> <p><br></p> </html>