Little Black Dress

                I was so nervous.  Tonight was a big deal and if I messed up, not only would I be completely embarrassed, but my future would be stalled. Again.

                I had so many chances before now. Austin, Mack, Patrick, all failures. I did not want to go through that again. I had to succeed.

                My heels clicked on the street. I was walking towards the gallery that I was supposed to find my date in. It was one of those standard things “I’ll be the one wearing a blue cravat.” And I am supposed to find him with just that. Who wears a cravat anymore anyway? My brown coat was not enough to keep the wind out. It was late March, and winter clung to the wind, refusing to leave. I could feel my black dress flutter where my coat wasn’t long enough to cover the whole thing. My legs were freezing and I couldn’t even feel the ball of my feet where the thin bottoms of my shoes didn’t quite keep the cold from oozing up through the cement.

                As I continue my walk down the long city block I pass a skyscraper with giant glass windows. I think it was some kind of hotel, I could see a lobby through the dark glass. I could then see my reflection in the windows. I was dressed nicely, for my date. My dark green heels stood out against the dark night. I clutched my purse handle tight. If my bag got stolen, I wouldn’t be able to make it through tonight.  I was in a nice part of the city, but creeps can be anywhere. Just because a place is nice, doesn’t mean bad things don’t happen. I knew that better than most.

                As I climb the stairs to the gallery I start to undo my coat. Someone would end up taking it from me anyway. Which was a shame, I really liked this coat. I give my coat to the staff at the door and move in to find him. I came towards the end of the gallery’s open times. It should close in about 30 minutes. I move through the displays, half glancing at the art, searching the room for the man I came to find. He was the owner of this gallery, so I knew he would be around here. I kept moving, I saw the office door in the back corner. It was strategically placed. All the best, and most expensive art, were in this area, so that anyone who had business with the gallery had to go past the art they wanted most to sell.

                He was standing outside the door talking to the last customer in the building. I slowly moved forward, not wanting to interrupt the conversation, but anxious to be with the man. I held my bag closer.

              When the customer left, I put on my best smile and moved toward the owner.

“Well, hello my dear,” he softly said. Apparently, even though we were the only two people in the gallery, a quiet voice was still necessary. He looked me up and down. I couldn’t blame him, this dress was particularly alluring, just like it was supposed to be. I smiled back at him as I reached my hand into my bag and clutched at the instrument that was my last chance.

                The man moved closer, reaching to put an arm around my waist. No personal space this one.

                “Can I help you?” His voice held what was obviously lust for me.  Prick.

                I smiled at him anyway, I had to keep it together. “You most certainly can.”

                I drew my hand out of my bag quickly and pulled the trigger. The shot was quiet thanks to the silencer on the barrel. He collapsed and I started walking towards the office door. I pulled out my cellphone from my bag as I placed my gun back in it.

                “Target eliminated.” I spoke into the phone. There was a back door out the office that would be my exit.

                “You have finally not disappointed me. Come back and we will discuss the next mission.” The manly voice said in my ear.

                “You owe me a new coat.” I said as I hung up and walked away. My heels click echoing in the alley. 

Eat Pray Love

                My eyes burst open suddenly, and for an instant I wondered what had awakened me. Then I turned over on the couch and saw Trina standing over a broken bowl- the third this month, I swear. I rolled my eyes, turned back over, and tried my best to pretend I was still in a drunken, sleeping stupor as an excuse to let the clumsy excuse for a roommate clean up after herself. I tried to grasp at memories of the night before; I had some feeling that I did something highly important, but grasping at thoughts muffled by a bottle of wine was like trying to find a hipster at a Justin Bieber concert.

                I waited for the booming echo of glass being dragged across the linoleum and the slam of our tiny apartment’s front door before rolling back to my side, still deep in thought. I saw the dvd case sitting on my coffee table, and slowly the memories and my resolve started drifting back, making ripples rage through my brain.

                Eat Pray Love. It was one of those movies I didn’t even think I owned, but being temporarily locked out of Trina’s Netflix account, I went digging through the boxes under my bed, pushing away movies I must have liked enough at some point to blow $20 on each, until I pulled out the hackneyed feel-good movie, shrugged, and sat down with a bottle of wine and a pint of ice cream. If I was going to be cliché, I might as well go big.

                The magical combination of strawberry cheesecake ice cream, white wine, and Julia Roberts lit a fuse in my mind, and I remembered spending much of the night plotting, dreaming, and pacing as the movie played on repeat in the background.

                My life was all wrong. Next week I was to turn 26; it was about time to get something right.

                I fumbled on the table in front of me, eventually finding the quickly scribbled list my fingers searched for. There it was, within my grasp. The list of things I dreamed of and exactly how to achieve each one. My courage faltered for a moment and I almost let myself settle back into my dreary existence I maintained for the sake of comfort, but then I looked at my disgustingly blonde hair in the mirror across from the couch, crumpled the paper, and ran to the shower.

                I hesitated with my hand on the shower handle, and then sprinted to my room to grab a pair of scissors. In the olden days, like last week, I would have carefully redressed before leaving the bathroom, but today was the start of a new me. Now I was daring, naked, and comfortable with it all. I took one last look at myself in the mirror before bringing the scissors to my eyes and hacking at the hair I detested so much, maintained by request of my so called boyfriend. If I cut it all now, I had to go to a hairdresser later to fix it. My courage mustn’t falter again.

                A quick shower, and I changed into my best dress; a small black number bought for my sister’s wedding. I ran to the nearest barber shop I knew of and let them make something of the mess I had made. Walking away, I checked a small box next to number 1 I left on my list:

1)      Do something Adam would hate to my hair

I smiled at my progress, then frowned at number two, shoving the list hastily into my bag. I decided to skip it for now, as there was no sense of me going to work on my day off simply to quit in the most dramatic way possible. I turned into a small, greasy restaurant on a corner and smirked as I thought of number three, just moments away from getting crossed off:

3)      Grow out of this stupid vegetarian phase

As I worked on that, I also started into number four:

4)      Start a blog, to freaking inspire people and shiz

As I tried to think of a name for my blog, I noticed a tall, handsome man walk through the door. Something about the way he carried himself caught my eye even more than his beautiful face, and when he noticed me staring, I was pleased to see that he smiled and stared back for a moment or two.

A quick introduction and hasty invitations, and I found myself headed to a park with the man (Piero… my heart melted at the sound) to go for a quick stroll. He complimented my hair, and I told him about Eat Pray Love and my plan to change my life.

“So like, I’m just so tired of working at a job I hate to maintain a life I hate. I mean, when does it end? When does happily ever after come?”

“You know,” Piero whispered in a voice with a surprising and slightly disappointing lack of an Italian accent, “You have a great point. I suffered through two years of college to suffer through four years of Architecture school, just to suffer through an internship and land a job I despise. I always fooled myself into thinking the next step would be better…”

“And it never is!” I practically shouted, so happy to be with someone who seemed to really understand and not just pretend to listen. “Everyone always keeps lists of what they want to do in life, right? Well, those things don’t just happen; you have to DO them.”

He slowly turned to me and asked “So… what’s next on that list of yours? How else are you changing your life today?”

I pulled out the list for good measure, not even scared to share something so personal with a stranger.

5)      Ask a stranger on a date, just on a whim

“Well, that’s easy enough,” he said as I told him “…because I was already planning on saying yes.” Before I fully comprehended what was happening, Piero was kissing me, and I was kissing him back. 

After what felt like an eternity but might have been only a few seconds, Piero pulled away, smiling. After a few blissful moments of silence, I finally whispered “Well…. What’s next on your list?”

He smirked. So Beautiful. I longed to kiss him again.

“I was thinking something along the lines of ‘hop in my car and drive far away with a stunningly beautiful and intuitive woman.’ How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” I smiled. “I think I could help you with that”

As Piero walked me to his car, I considered the possibility that he might rape and/or kill me, but I quickly tossed the thought aside and simply walked blissfully into the unknown future.

I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew it was better than where I had been. 

The Bus

She clutches the handle of her bag even tighter, folding it into herself as the bus jitters through another pothole. The tears rise to the surface again, and she pushes them back in fear. Although she is as transparent and fragile as glass, she will not let the others see her weakness. Another pothole. Another bang. A child cries and she winces. She can feel the energy pulsing in her core, and she curses it, pushing the bag further into herself as though she could replace what is in her now with the bag.

Her teeth grit together in an emotion that she does not know. For so long, she thought she had been numb to the fear that pervaded life in this part of town. Then this happened, and the fear once again tore through her in fresh new waves. It burned her, clawing at her from the inside out, charring her flesh. It had blackened her heart and thrown her into the void, a void she knew she would not escape from. She knows the emotion, now. They have been reacquainted, and while some say one is the loneliest number, she knows that it is three.

Another pothole. Another bang, although this time from outside the bus. She wishes she could walk towards it, walk into it, but she notes that she fears death just as much as she longs for it. The energy writhes in her again, and she cannot keep in the fear and the pain. A sob escapes her and the drunk a seat down from her swivels his head towards her and frowns. Even the drunk cannot abide her. If only he knew where she had been and where she was coming from.

She had come from a home where she had been taught to do better. To be better. She had come from what she had thought was a date. She had come from the side of town that the police lived in more than their own homes. She had come from a run down little government-funded building that had delivered the news, and while they smiled because of her lie, she felt the energy within her constrict in a death sentence. She was supposed to escape. She was supposed to be better. To do better.

The bus pulls to the side. It’s her stop, but her legs have forgotten how to move. The energy is pulsing; it is glowing, reminding her that it is there and that it will not leave, not unless she takes drastic measures. The doors have opened, but she finds that she can only stare at them as if from a great distance. The drunk gets off. Here, the drunk gets off, at the place where she was supposed to be. Her future. Her apartment. Her life.

And the glow reminds her that it was only supposed to be a date.

Round Up: Week Twenty

Last Week’s Prompt:

One word: Creepypasta.

Amanda

Just in time for Halloween, creepypasta stories! My two favorite types of creepypasta stories are medical experiments gone wrong and the sudden appearance of dark creatures. I attempted to write one of the former and I didn’t love it, so I tried my hand at writing from Death’s point of view. I found it sufficiently creepy with a bit of a twist ending, so I was proud of my work.

MY VOTE: Kylie

Korrin

I obviously don’t know what creepypasta is but I like my story all the same. My monster is definitely into hardcore curses. I picked the things that I would rather end up hospitalized for than have to deal with. My default setting is also to name things with Latin if I can’t come up with names. It’s a kinda fun default.

MY VOTE: Kylie

Kylie

I immediately knew as soon as I heard the prompt that I wanted to write about my favorite sassy gay supernatural murderer, Trenderman. The great thing about Trenderman is everything. He doesn't want to kill people, but he will for the greater good of fashion. Name me a more noble cause than that, I dare you. The humor in this piece is kind of meta--because seriously, what are the odds that you walk into Trenderman’s cute little shop and accidentally try to buy Crocs?

MY VOTE: Amanda

Next Week’s Prompt:

For the group of words, write around them to create a scene, story, or poem:

Bag

Handle

Glass

Date

Black

Walk

Protect Yourself

On every New Moon she comes. You will never know when she will get to you, only that eventually she will. New Moons are when the real monsters come out (seriously, what monster would come out when there is the most light at night. Superstitions). 

                I don’t want to worry you, but this is a message of warning. Surdo Fratriodi is not a being to be messed with. She wanders the world seeking victims. Looking into her eyes is enough to cause anyone to go into a state of shock from the terror. When she touches you, you and your children are cursed forever. The curse manifests in different ways, but the ones that I have heard about are never being able to go to school with pants on and hearing Justin Bieber music on a continuous loop. This monster is into some hard core stuff.

                The only way to protect yourself is to spin clockwise half a dozen times, spit on a white cat, sing the national anthem from a roof top, and send this message on. Don’t become one of the fallen, protect yourself and your future posterity. If enough of us fight Surdo Fratriodi will fade out of existence. 

Tacky

You’ve seen the shop before. At least, you think you have. You can’t remember when it opened or when you first noticed it, but looking at it now, your mind understands what your stomach does not. You have seen the shop before. Of course you have. It has been here for… It doesn’t matter. You have seen this shop in this spot before. This swaying, knotted feeling in your stomach means nothing, and you will prove it. You take a few quick steps forward and push open the door.

The shop is lit softly and quiet music plays in the background. It is soothing, you tell your stomach, which has managed to loop itself into an even tighter knot. It is soothing and refreshing, unlike the large department store you usually purchase clothing at. The shop does, in fact, sell clothing. Women’s to the left, delicate pink dresses hanging on the wall, fluttering as the air conditioning brushes along the hem. Men’s to the left, dark blazers mimicking the dresses on the far wall, but with more jagged motions. They are just dresses and blazers, you tell yourself, ignoring the pounding of your heart as you move towards a rack and begin to examine the clothes. There is nothing to be afraid of.

The absence of a sound catches your ear and you turn faster than you intended to, eyes wider than you intended. There is nothing but a few mannequins in the middle of the store and a glassy-eyed woman behind the cash register, an unwavering smile plastered on her face. Your skin prickles and you nod at her before turning back to the shirt you had been examining before you heard the whispering stop. No, not whispering. The song playing over the speakers simply changed. That was the blankness you heard. It certainly wasn’t whispering, and you certainly wish the pace of your heart would follow the music’s suit and pause.

There is a snicker--no, not a snicker. A snick. You must have dragged the hanger across the metal rack a little sharper than you intended. You tell yourself you’ll be more careful, even as you watch your hand begin to shake more violently.

“Finding everything all right?”

You jump away from the shop clerk, startled by her sudden appearance. Her large blue eyes are dull and glassy, despite her apparent youth. Your mother’s voice echoes in your head, urging you to smile and not to stare, but your body does not listen to you. Your head moves up and down in stuttering jerks as you stammer out a yes. She does not move, just stands there. Smiling. You attempt to smile back as your eyes dart towards the door. Perhaps your body was wise to warn you of this place.

She is still standing there, smiling distantly beyond you as you move hangers back and forth in an attempt to separate yourself from her. Your body’s screams have become too loud; logic cannot override the sense of hysterical fear creeping over you. There is no hiding your unease now, no trying to prove to yourself that this shop is harmless. It is a lost cause. But the woman still stands there, and if those dull eyes possessed the power to bore into something, they would be boring into you. If she stopped staring at you, you would be able to think clearly, but for now, all you can think about is leaving without embarrassing yourself.

Without looking, you grab a box from a shelf. You will buy this item so the woman stops staring at you, and then you will leave. It doesn’t matter what is in the box--you will never enter the shop again. You only wish to leave now and forever. Whatever is in the box will have to do.

You turn to the woman, smile, and say “I’ll be purchasing this. That’s all, thanks.”

Her smile does not falter as an enormous sigh seeps throughout the room, making your entire body shake. “Those,” a voice echoes. A voice that does not come from the woman. “Why does everyone choose those?”

Three things happen almost simultaneously. The woman’s eyes grow even wider, almost seeming clear for a second, as though they are screaming run, as her back arches hideously and a sound like a firecracker goes off. The scream that leaves your lips does not come from what the shop clerk has become now, though. The corpse--as you now realize she was the whole time--falls as a mannequin stands. He--he is a “he,” you know, because it sports one of the blazers that are on the wall--is faceless. The blank, white void looks at you, cocks its head, and the sigh echoes through the room again.

“This whole fabulous room, and you choose those,” he says, gliding over the woman’s body and heading straight for you. You are paralyzed as he shakes his head and reaches out a hand. “You’d think you’d all learn by now how tacky those are.”

The last thing you see as you fall is the box as it hits the ground, a single bright green foam shoe bouncing onto the tile.

The Guide

I never knew you existed before, but now you're all I can think about.

From the moment I saw you, something within me said "That's it! That's the one!" I was nervous because I have never been a guide before, but I know I am ready for this moment. The last thing I remember before dying was reading a small card, then looking up and seeing terrible red eyes peering into mine. Since this is my first time, I decided to do what my guide did for me.

You finally step outside your car and walk inside, stumbling a little on the icy sidewalk and peering tentatively at the icicles above. If I was able, I would laugh at the memory of my mother... or perhaps it was my grandmother... so long ago warning me of the deadly danger that icicles pose, but now I know better; that isn't how death works at all. You slam the door behind you, but I glide through confidently, for I know I am still invisible to your eyes.

You turn toward the bathroom, and I blush and choose not to follow. Instead, I explore your house and ponder on what sort of person you must be. I wonder if you will take this gracefully or filled with terror; I wonder if you are ready. I self consciously pull at my long black robe and glance again at the card I hurriedly wrote, making sure my writing is legible. As you exit the bathroom and head to the kitchen, I take my opportunity and lay the card gently on your table, where I know you must sooner or later notice it. Take your time, though, we are in no rush.

You hum "Bohemian Rhapsody" to yourself as you pull a frozen dinner from the freezer and pop it in the microwave. I consider starting a fire to make my first guiding experience more grand, but I think you would prefer it my way. I could almost feel an echo of my long-stilled heart as you turn around and fixate on my note. Peering around anxiously, you bend down to pick it up and read it. I get into place, because I know as soon as you read my name, you will be able to see me, and I must make myself terrifyingly presentable.

This is so exciting!

My name is Death. 
I am not the only Death, but one of many. See, most people think of death as falling asleep and waking up on another side, but that's not right at all. Death is like being pulled by your ankle deep into the depths of the oceans- sudden, inexplicable, and suffocating. I am here to drag you there, for none can achieve death on their own. 

You shudder in confusion, and look up to see me. A guttural and unearthly scream escapes your lips (really, am I that terrible?) as I reach out for your hand and pull you through your dimension into mine. As the mortals see it... to your death.