Free association stories - a game!
 

Here are the rules. Sit here until you think of an opening line for your story. Then start typing. Follow your story wherever it goes and stop when it takes you to the end. No thinking ahead, no planning a plot, no choosing characters, no themes. Just writing the story as it comes to you. Have fun!

She caressed the empty shell with her index finger. She wondered if the shell mourned the loss of the crab in the same way that a fallow field grieves the crop that's ripped away from it. In the same way her uterus felt the echoing drop of a two week old cluster of cells that some might consider a baby. That nine and a half months from now would have emerged as another soul to occupy an unknown vacancy on earth.

Surely by now her uterus was as hard as a shell anyways. This was her fifth loss. She consoled her self with the reminder that at least this one had been early. At least she hadn't been through baby registries and name books. At least she had known there was a good chance. At least she had only allowed a small glimmer of dense love into her heart.

She saw them sometimes. Her lost children. A boy, sandy blond hair, perpetual dirt under his nails, rugged skin and broad shoulders. Another boy, smaller and darker, always intense, spectacular wondering eyes. A girl next, they had considered stopping at two, but she really wanted a girl. Just one more, she pleaded with her husband, and he gazed at the baby pictures on the wall and relented. Her daughter was frilly and tempestuous and loved to do ballet. The next was a surprise. Another boy of course, which she was so grateful for. Her relationship with her daughter was too special to be repeated. This boy was mellow and friendly and had a smile that won over even the surliest of strangers.

She thought of this would-be baby. What would it be? She saw a baby in bed next to her, serenely drifting to sleep at her breast. Gently flexing and releasing five matchstick size fingers as though they were figuring out their purpose. Her hand skimmed over the full head of strawberry blond curls. This baby was so beautiful. Her hand ran down his cherub cheeks, his fat arms, his round belly, and all the rolls of his thighs. She emitted a long sigh. A sound that only mothers staring at their new babies can make. She smelled his forehead and felt the rush of hormones that only mothers can feel.

She looked away from the baby and back at her own still flat stomach. They wouldn't try again. Five losses in five years and thousands of dollars in tests and procedures. She thought of her cavernous, shell shaped uterus and longed for the millionth time for it to be filled with love. That's ok, she thought, I wouldn't know what to do without the familiar company of this particular pain. Surely one never feels love as stingingly as they feel loss.

the sharpened point of his bayonet dug another pellet from the chestplate of his well worn body armor. his seventh set of armor in as many years. under normal conditions it should have lasted a lifetime. not here. this god forsaken place had taken its toll on as many bodies as it had suits of armor.

as he finished patching the hole in his suit, his eyes finally returned to the field where the last of the smoke was beginning to clear and the sounds of battle were subsiding. deep craters and smoking ruins peppered the landscape for as far as his eyes could see. little was left standing. even less left alive. the scout troops would clear out the rest easy enough.

another successful raid against an increasingly resistant group of indigenous creatures inhabiting this great rock in the middle of nowhere. what was it they were called? 'poorly equipped, disorganized rabble' by his superiors. superiors he'd not seen since he was put into stasis for the long journey to defend the first off-world colony in this sector.

such a noble cause. such a miserable waste.

as he sat, waiting for the patch in his armor to harden, he recalled what fierce fighters these odd creatures were. determined and unafraid, they seemed to practically fly in the thick atmosphere that was stifeling at its best and downright unbearable once the nearby star stood high in the oddly tinted sky. almost blinding in its light, nightfall was the only mercy the soldiers would find in this hell. the only time the light and temperature was low enough to raise his face shield and catch a breath of unfiltered air cool enough not to burn flesh

a call of 'sniper' rang out as a pellet burst its way through the burnt foliage surrounding the encampment. it spat and bounced its way through the camp as troops rushed for cover. it was a nightly occurence. the slightest glint of light seemed enough to call down fire from the hillsides.

it seemed never ending. no matter how many were killed, there were always more nearby awaiting a chance to strike.

as he lay on his back in a crater left by one of the primitives weapons, he thought about home. about how different this all was compared to the home he remembered...the home he ached to see again. the days were so short here. flowing past as if the planet were spinning out of control and ready to fling itself into deep space. it left him with no sense of how long he'd been there. it was just as well. he really preferred not to dwell on it.

as he lay there, from the corner of his eye, he caught the flash of a weapon near the wooded area just beyond the edge of the valley. he raised his weapon and emptied the magazine in his rifle into the area he'd spotted the flash. a blood curdling screech spilled from the hillside where his weapon had sent its deadly cargo.

he hated that sound. he knew it was a kill, but still. the sound these things made when hit wasnt something he'd ever been able to stomach. an 'all clear' was heard in and about the camp as soldiers raised themselves from their cover and returned to their duties.

as he raised himself up out of the crater he'd been hiding in he patrolled out to where the sniper had been to be sure there wouldnt be any more trouble from this particular source.

yup. a clean kill. the snipers weapon lay nearby and the body of the combatant lay still and cold. he never got used to these bizzare looking creatures. more like animals than crafty fighters, with only two arms, no scales and that freakish pink skin.

(concept stolen from a short story I read decades ago)

The only rules that matter are these: what a man can do, and what a man can't do. Jack could knit, dunk a basketball, and bake a quiche. Jack could not balance his checkbook or find a woman that wouldn't leave him the first time a dapper man in a sharp suit walking a Labrador walked by his over-sized bay window.

Jack stared at the frog in his fish tank. He lived so serene a life. Merrily swimming his legs apart, together, apart, together. Not a thought in his froggy brain...or so Jack though. Little did Jack know that this frog had not only sent the dapper, suit wearing, Labrador walking man to walk past the over-sized bay window, but he also had a highly intelligent form of psychic communication, as all frogs do, unbeknownst to humans.

This frog had a name, but you couldn't pronounce it anyways, so we'll leave it be. This frog was in love with Jack. He admired Jack's knitting, and his basketball dunking, and his delicious smelling quiches, and many many other things that one wouldn't normally expect a frog to admire. In fact, the frog's love for Jack was so consuming that he couldn't focus at all on his assignment (which was to set up a base of operations for travelling frog emissaries). So instead, he peered at Jack all day.

Insanely jealous of Jack's affection for female humans, the frog always managed to send them away. He listened to their conversations intently, eager to discover the weak points of the relationship, as well as pick out qualities that the women might desire, but Jack lacked. Then, at an opportune moment, the frog would focus all his psychic energy on setting up a situation to lure the women away from Jack. Away from his true love.

Little did the frog know that this particular female whom he had just lured away was Jack's soul mate. The one person he could have been truly, blissfully happy with. If only she had stuck around just a little longer, she would have known that as well. In the days and weeks to follow Jack would slip into a depression so deep that he would climb into his bathtub hugging the still plugged in toaster to his chest. It would be weeks before his elderly mother came to claim Jack's possessions. By then this frog will have starved to death. In the end, both Jack and the frog are victims of unrequited love.

Apparently I have to spread some mojo, but major :snap: for that CJ. Love it!

As for that last frog story...uh...it's late?

LOL. I thought the frog was coool!
ok, I dig this game :D

the quiet hung over the house like a thick fog. nearly deafening. suffocating at times. everything in this old house was so still and unendingly silent, it was enough to shake a mans concept of reality.

however reality in all its forms was all that remained of what was once his life. he'd seen it coming. they both had, but neither they. nor a dozen doctors, scientists or clergy had been able to turn fates hand away. like a runaway train flying down lifes tracks headed straight for the two of them, they stood there hand in hand, oblivious...no, not oblivious....ignoring the danger that once creeped in their direction, now powering its fateful way towards them.

fates train was now long gone into the horizon of yesterday. taking with it, the only life he'd ever known. the only life he thought he'd ever need, leaving him standing alone. truly alone for the first time in his life.

he'd often had to face death. his parents, now both gone. hers too. his friends, associates and coworkers. he'd done so, so many times over the years. accepting it was the key. yeah, that was it. accepting that once theyre gone, theyre gone. all the want and tears, wishes and begging sent flowing into the universe couldnt undo one single second.

whats done, is done.


yeah, he'd seen it before. none of that mattered now. the life that ended was now half his own. 'two halves of the same person' was how they were once described. they'd grown together from adolecent love to a marriage that, even with its pitfalls, pains, eruptions of fury and banality, happiness and fear. it was all he knew. over half his life had been spent joined to her. everything built and held dear was for the two of them. none of that seemed to matter anymore.

was it empty hearts or an empty heads that left them there, standing in fates path? maybe a simple case of 'nah, it cant happen here' was to blame. the point was moot now. once again, he'd watched the life ebb from someone he loved. powerless to stem the changes barrelling down on him...on them.

she was gone. for everything he'd always been able to fix, this was beyond anyones undoing.

"dont blame yourself" seemed to be the phrase he heard more than anything other than, "Im so sorry". blame too was now a pointless excercise. one had paid the price for insensitive ignorance. a high price indeed. now only one remained to remember. to blame.

Sarah was endlessly tired. It had nothing to do with being a "night owl" or other nonsense - she was always exhausted, always thinking of a dim room with a cotton comforter. "How did I get here?" she wondered. Time was, her days were filled with challenges, her nights with mai-tais and pick up lines. Now she planned weekends around sleeping in and watching TV with a pillow propped behind her.

Maybe it was when Penny died. She still thought of Penny as her first roommate, her first confidant outside of childhood friends. Being a dog didn't hinder Penny from comforting Sarah through other tragedies. Who could comfort her through Penny's disease and passing? Even 2 years later, just the thought made her eyes water, as her mind darted to the top of the linen closet where all of Penny's chewed toys and ratty blankets still lay enshrined.

Perhaps it was her job. She'd made the leap into the real marketing game, giving presentations at broad-based meetings on concepts that had taken weeks of research and dozens of drafts. Sarah had made a name for herself at the firm quickly after coming on board, but she could feel her drive - and her clout - slipping away. Her speeches now lacked the punch of a rising star. Thinking about how much you wish you were in bed won't help you sell your ideas.

Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't dated anyone since she'd ended high school. Of course guys had hit on her - she was female and at least pretty enough that someone would see a prospect there - and she used to love the club scene. Dancing in the strobes between the crush of bodies had always been exhilerating, but the idea of bringing a guy home afterwards never seemed tempting enough. There was a long period where Sarah considered that she might be gay, but no spark of interest bloomed in that area either. She had come to accept her lack of sexual drive, but perhaps it had undermined her in ways she was only beginning to notice?

The alarm went off for the third time. Sarah reached slowly for the clock and tugged the plug out of the wall. Then she reached for her phone and dialed her employer. No, she wasn't coming in today. More of the same, yes. Hopefully tomorrow.

Sarah rolled over and went back to sleep.


Heh, totally uneven, but a fun exercise nonetheless. :)