Writing Explorations: Week 74, Ober, Under, and Through

[The Mood is Write]

My Writing Explorations series of exercises are a chance for users to explore new concepts and practice the art of raising two fingers to Writer's Block while screaming obscenities to fickle muses: to rebel against the idea that a person requires a mythical force inside them to make new and amazing things.

No. Listen well, users: there is no being inside you waiting to be let out. You are the writer, and in this exercise, you are given a place to push not only against Writer's Block, but also against the forces of stagnation. Feel trapped in your genre? Explore a new one! Stuck with a singular archetype? Do something else! In this thread, you will not be critiqued unless you request it. Should you wish it, I will happily offer my thoughts on how it might be improved, but I will not comb looking for fixes: this isn't the place: this place is for safely trying new things and indulging a love of writing.

Shake the bars of your cell block and roar, writers!

[fieldbox=How do I take part?]You can write to one or more (or none) of the prompts, the theme in the thread title, the bonuses—hell, you can even cast aside all of what I offer if you get a different idea.

The whole point is "get writing!"[/fieldbox]

Prompts:

1. A sentimental dimwit notices something he should not have, and is hunted for it.
2. A character is incapable of telling lies. They must learn to overcome this, while at the same time learning to control their innate power of suggestion.
3. A man fakes his death to avoid his former employers. One of them finds him years later. What events happen that lead to the employer keeping the man's secret?
4. People describe him as a mystery. He arrived out of nowhere, got drunk, and then ended up adopted by the widowed old lady down the lane.

Bonus Rounds:

• Write in a random genre.
• "No one should wield that kind of power with just their voice."
• "You know, normal people don't have a basement full of weapons."
  "I'll have you know, every single one of these knives saved my life at least once."
  "What about that gun over there?"
  "Oh, that? Stole it from a cop. It's for decoration."
• "You're really drunk right now."
  "I don't think so? You're just blurry."
• "Hey, Pretty! Do you think your sib would like this kind of ice cream?"
• "Ok, so, when you started following me and smelling like a murderer, I thought you'd be a stabby type. Strangling's good too, though! Kinda exciting... Wanna get a room somewhere?"
• "Life sucks when you're terrified of the creatures you're descended from."

 

[VeilofRain]

"Ok, so, when you started following me and smelling like a murderer, I thought you'd be a stabby type. Strangling's good too, though! Kinda exciting... Wanna get a room somewhere?"

Was he serious? This buffoon, this idiot, was grinning at her and asking her if she wanted to go around. This couldn't be right. He was the protege Madame Lestat, the most dangerous woman in the three cities. Countless men wanted his head for the things he had witnessed and could use against him. Hell, he was supposed to be dead, but of course dead people didn't keep living. His little trick had been ruined when the brother of the very man he was hiding from had found him. She was the result of that. Here to hunt this fool.

Her name Melogna Devaroux, a woman with terrible power. Often she had heard: "No one should have that kind of power with just their voice."
Those same people were the ones that sought to own her. They wanted to control her, to bed her, to silence her and make her scream all at the same time. No one of them could. Yet here she was, with every intention of killing Percival Glass, and yet she wasn't sure she wanted to. Despite his stood question, she tightened her grip on her firearm, and pressed it to his lips.

"You know, most people don't have a basement full of weapons."
"I'll have you know each one of these knives have saved my life." He turned from her, ignoring that the barrel of a gun had literally just been pressed to his lips.
"What about the gun?" She cocked her head in the direction of a single shotgun resting on the wall. She could smell the oil used to upkeep it, though the scent of use was invisible.

"Oh that? Stole it from a cop. Makes a nice decoration." Percival wasn't wrong. Among a wall of bladed weapons it stood alone. It seemed as if it would be the most menacing thing, but it smelled the least of death.

"Listen, I know you work for Lestat."
"I do."
"Oh..." She hadn't expected such honesty, and with such a candid tone. The man was standing here as if he didn't have a gun pointed at him.

"So, here to kill me?"
"Yes."
"So? I can't see a way to stop you at the moment?"
"Awfully honest aren't you?" Melogna cocked her head. This man was acting as if he had all the time in the world. It was so frustrating, she kind of wanted to pull the trigger. Something about him was keeping her from doing it. Somehow, she knew he was doing it on purpose, but she couldn't figure out how.

"I'm incapable of lying. Literally."
"Ha! Do you take me for an idiot."
"No. I'd like to, but now."

Percival just grinned at the woman. This dimwit, this couldn't be the man that had eluded so many lethal men. Even if he was adopted by Lestat, it just couldn't be. No, she would test him. Surely he would slip somewhere.
"Favorite color?" She asked.
"Tangerine I think? Some kind of orange." He said.
"Food?"
"Pasta."
"What part of me caught you attention first?"
He was a man. To avoid trouble he would say her eyes. He was going to say whatever answer it took to seem sweet. Then she would know he was lying.

"Your tits. I wanna say your ass, but you were facing me. Then I noticed your lips. Good dick sucking lips." Before he could blink a sharp pain cracked the side of his skull. Melogna kicked him and put her boot into his chest the moment he hit the floor. She put her gun to his eye.

"Want better last words?" She asked, rage burning in every word.
"Yes. But... You wanted the truth right? What did you expect when I asked you to sleep with me?" Percival raised his hands, palms flat up as his arms pressed to the floor. It was a complete submissive position. He was smiling, his shoulders were pushing towards his ears. He was totally submissive, but some part of him seemed as if it had the upper hand. It pissed her off so fucking much.

"One more question. One more before I blow your brains out. Why are you here?" Melogna needed some answer for this. She hadn't asked before, she never asked anyone why she had to kill them. Him though, there had to be a good answer for this bullshit.

"Life sucks when you're afraid of the creatures you're descended from. I couldn't be like them, so they want me dead. An invalid. A waste of space. I just happen to have a lot of juju in me too." Percival's words made more questions rather than answers. Melogna's teeth ground together, and every fiber of her beings wanted to destroy him. Out of frustration she threw her head back and pointed her gun in a random direction before firing off several rounds. The bullets ricocheted, making high pitched whizzing sounds while dropping knives and bouncing around them. But some strange twist of fate nothing hit them.

Melogna tossed her gun and reached up to start tugging the zipper of her suit down. Her small firm breasts filled his vision, and despite his shock, a stupid grin stretched his lips.
"What's happening? He asked.
"I told myself if none of those bullets killed one of us I would take you up on your offer. Get your fucking pants off. Then we're going to have a long talk." Melogna said as she began to work her way out of her clothes. Percival was already stripping before she finished speaking.