The end.
9. The Most Beautiful Dog in the World
At the parlour, Lady is chewing on a delicious bone that was given to her by Stephanie, the doggie parlour owner.
It is time for Lady’s bath.
Is Lady obedient, or is she a naughty dog?
(…)
As soon as Stephanie comes back to the parlour, she sees that Katherine, Lady’s owner is already there, with Lady in her arms.
Katherine is angry. Lady is dirty and was found in the street. She does not believe Stephanie when she tells her that Lady is a very naughty dog. Katherine will not be paying Stephanie.
The end.
10. The Hunter and the Deer
Once upon a time in a forest far away a hunter was stalking a deer. He had it in cross hairs but couldn’t seem to take the shot. You see, this hunter was a bit of softy and tended to sympathise with his prey. Every time he was about to kill an animal he would look into the animal’s eyes and his body just wouldn’t make any move to kill the animal. On this occasion the hunter had decided to not make any eye contact with creature, he needed to be able to kill it.
He had been tracking this deer for a while now. Everytime he got close something would scare the deer and it would run away. This had been going on like a dance between him and the deer. At first he quite enjoyed it but now he was getting frustrated and tired. As luck would have it the deer had finally stopped long enouugh for the hunter to get proper shot. He took a deep breath, aimed and let go his arrow. It flew straight at the unsuspecting deer. He quickly closed his eyes not wanting to see what happened next.
(…)
He knew why he didn’t kill them. He didn’t sympathise with them and he definitely wasn’t soft. He just didn’t think it necessary to kill them and he was quite fine with that.
“Sometimes it’s okay to just appreciate the beauty of the animal, dont you think mister? You don’t need it on your wall when you can come here and see it live.”
Those words blew through the breeze and carried the hunter as he walked home.
The End
11. Amala
Wild ducks are near the end. Few know the impact that their actions have on the delicately balanced worlds of others. We are all guilty of bringing worlds to an end even though we will never know or see them fall in front of our eyes. That is where I am different. My slowly decaying world has been poisoned by my polluted Kingdoms, yet little did I know that their toxins would poison the very stars in my sky, beautiful galaxies not so far away. There is no greater sadness than seeing the brightest stars in your sky slowly fade into the darkness, their lights flickering and dancing in the distance could be mistaken for a dances of joy yet in reality they are writhing in pain calling for a swift end to their torment. The torment your world has so unknowingly sent it, the gift of life placed in your hand corrupted by the unseen ills of your Kingdoms. I am Amala.
The Observer Daddy Corruption Alaura
(…)
My little star shines brightly once again! I know it is only possible because someone else out there lost a star of their own, but the gift they have given is irreplaceable, from death comes life and my star is alive once again! Her Kingdom restored, her mother’s riches shining brightly in her. A smile returns to my face once again. God, its been years since i have smiled. It feels great to bathe in the warmth of a beautiful star once again. She is mine to protect and her world rests on my shoulders. The wild ducks fly once again. Spacedust is no longer part of our galaxy and never will I allow it to corrupt, stain and destroy my Kingdom and my star.
12. Thief
As he regained consciousness, Caleb could hear the thump of footsteps fade away into the depths of the castle. As his eyes regained focus, he stared at his empty hand outstretched before him. His map – and his only way out – was gone.
Slowly, he rose to his feet. It was hard to make out his surroundings in this poorly lit hallway. On the carpet however, he could see the faint shimmer of blood on the carpet. His blood. This was no mere accident. The sharp pain in the back of his head agreed. Someone else was lost in this castle and someone else needed a map.
The rush of anger needed to wait. Every second that passes gives the thief another second to escape. He needed to decide on a plan of action. Up ahead in the corridor he could make out a stairway, faintly lit by a nearby torch. He was sure that the thief had gone in that direction. But his memory of the map did not include anything about the staircase up ahead.
He noticed a slight breeze coming from the corridor to his left grazing his arm. Far in the distance he could hear the unmistakable rattle of a door, or perhaps a window.
(…)
He could feel a breeze spilling from the lower levels. The staircase did not look the sturdy type. He carefully tested each step with the weight of one leg before using it. After a slow decent into the bowels of the castle, he reached what he assumed must’ve been the dungeon. There were chains bolted to the walls in some places and torn from the walls in others. There were several holding cells.
He spotted the source of the noise he had heard earlier. I was not a door to freedom but rather a cell door that repeatedly slammed against the prison bars. A rush of excitement rushed through his body as he spotted the source of fresh air – a tiny, barred window near the ceiling of one of the cells. He approached the cell, wanting to feel the slightest of sunrays piercing the darkness through the small window. He came to a halt in the centre of the cell. He looked around for something that might help him reach the window. There was nothing useful inside the cell. Perhaps somewhere else in the dungeon, he thought. He turned back to the cell door which was, to his surprise, shut.
He tugged at the bars of the door, but not only was it shut. It was locked. He looked up past the bars of the door and saw the faint glimmer of eyes and the tight clench of a fist around what looked like his map fading into the shadows of the dungeon. The thief had robbed him of his map and his freedom.
The End
13. Magician’s Kin
As we were standing there on the corner of a busy city block it seemed as if the square had lost all of its magic. What once was a concert of colour accompanied by the rattling of cartwheels on cobblestone has become monochrome and mundane. I held in my left hand the coin which my father so eagerly commanded to dance between his fingers as we’d prepared for a show and in my right, the far more delicate hand of Sue. The pleasant waft of freshly baked bread from the bakery up the street broke my train of thought and thawed my nose, reminding me of our current situation.
Sue: “Where did he go?” Her auburn hair makes her look like a little candle. It is a pleasant illusion on such a chilly winter morning. “Well, he went away for a while” It was hard for me to explain that he would not be re-appearing any time soon after this disappearing act. The last I saw of our father was the back of his head sitting in a police wagon. “We are opportunists” he would say, pulling his coin from behind my ear. “I give them a show that they marvel at, and you my dear assistants make a donation from their pockets.” It seems the people did not take too kindly to our way of accepting payment and the passing of new law did not allow for much tolerance. Our cornerstone was gone and we would have to make do on our own.
The winters came and went and we became more adept at surviving on our own. We devised new ways of distracting passers-by to take what we needed to survive. We became crafty and cunning. By the age of 18 I had become a spellbinding street magician and Sue had the slightest of hand.
On the autumn morning of Sue’s 16th birthday we passed the local pub on our way to the bakery. “Join the cause!” a man chanted. It was quickly echoed by”Get rewarded for doing your duty”. The table with the sign-up sheet was droning with young men and woman that were eager to quench their thirst for adventure. “Do you think we should sign up?” I could see Sue contemplating the thought. Even though we were tricksters by trade, Sue could never manage to hide her emotions. She was used to rejecting my left wing notions but it seems like this time she took some time to think about it. “I don’t see how joining the army can be any worse than continuing to con for spare coin.”
(…)
The day finally came. We were prepared and itched for freedom. The guard came patrolling around the corner. “We’re up” I thought to myself, acting disinterested as usual. As the guard passed our cell father threw his cup at the guard. We chose this particular guard because he had a very foul temper and would not let it slide. He walked closer. As he did, father grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him across the hall. I latched my clasped hands around his throat, eventually bringing him down to the ground. I looted the keys and unlocked our cells.
The feeling of freedom came rushing back into our veins, urging us to run. And we did. I tried to convince Sue to come with but she would not budge. We ran around the first corner, the second and the third. Our final stretch to freedom was a long service hallway to the outside observation post. I turned around to see if someone was following us. In that instant a figure appeared from behind the corner. That figure quickly replicated into two more. They had caught on to us.
I heard the boom of a rifle. Father plummeted to the ground with a loud thud. My heart sank and so did the rest of my body. Lying there on the floor I could not believe what had happened. I took the coin that he left me as a child and put it in his pocket just before the guards were standing over me.
I was dragged all the way back and locked in father’s old cell having to face Sue’s blank stare. She turned her back to me and went to bed.
The end.
14. Hypertext Story
You are awaken by a constant beeping next to your ear. You slowly open your eyes and above you, you see a sea of stars. Up here they seem much brighter than they ever were on earth. You turn your head to the source of the irritating beeping, a small orb like alarm clock next to your bed, pulsing a blue light with every beep. They are supposed to wake you up at the optimal time in your sleeping cycle, but somehow you also seem to wake at the worst time possible. You suddenly get the urge to smash the small round device to bits!
Smash the alarm clock
Turn the alarm off and get up
(…)
You burst into the storage compartment where the enemy has boarded the ship. Before you is a group of strange, vicious-looking aliens you have never seen before. As one alien jumps towards you, you reach for your pistol, and kill the alien just before it reaches you.
You and your squad destroy every alien on board, just as the ship hyperjumps to a safe solar system.
15. End of the Road
“Why the long face?
Have you been waiting long?” he asks me.
“I suppose. It hasn’t been a great day, but things can get only get better right?” I say.
“You could be surprised” he says.
“Are you going somewhere close?” he continues.
“I am headed to the 3rd district, so I still have to catch another bus at Prophet Station. I wonder if the military march is slowing the buses today” I say.
“Oh, my friends are coming from there now. I need them to give me my stuff. They will get here soon, so I am sure they can help you out. I will ask them to give you a lift” he says.
Moments later a vehicle appears. It stops in front of us.
Grungy people come out of the pickup truck and approach the guy next to me with a bag.
The driver of the car starts speaking in sign language.
They look at me and continue their conversation.
Eventually they turn and smile.
They ask me to come with them.
Why are they looking around?
Are they looking for something?
Get on the pick up
Wait for the bus
(…)
I swap seats with the next to me guy.
I grab one of their guns and shot the radio.
The guy I just switched places with gets shot and dies immediately.
The car tires bows and the car flips over.
I am the only survivor inside the car.
A bus drives past slowly.
Moments later when an ambulance eventually arrives, a report on the police scanner says that a man on a bus has just been arrested after a failed attempt to detonate at a military march.