Writing Explorations: Week 86, A Hollow Feeling in Your Gut

The Mood is Write

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  1. 1-3 posts per day
  2. Multiple posts per week
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It varies wildly.
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  1. Advanced
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Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Nonbinary
  3. Primarily Prefer Female
Genres
I'm open to a wide range of genres. Obscenely wide. It's harder for me to list all I do like than all I don't like.

My favorite settings are fantasy combined with something else, multiverse, post-apoc, historical (mixed with something else), and futuristic. I'm not limited to those, but it's a good start.

My favorite genres include mystery, adventure, action, drama, tragedy (must be mixed with something else and kept balanced), romance (again must be mixed, and more.

I'm happy to include elements of slice-of-life and romance, but doing them on their own doesn't hold my interest indefinitely.
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. In this age, when a soulmate's name is read, the letters glow. On a dark night, a group of friends explore an ancient graveyard. One is separated from the rest, and when their light goes out, only the glowing letters from a nearby tombstone provide the lost with light.
  2. They told themselves it was for a good cause. Sometimes, they even believed it.
  3. They didn't bother reading the contract. Right now, they just wanted their friend back.

Bonus Rounds:
  • Write in a random genre.
  • Include a character who feels like their torso is literally hollow.
  • Make sure to include an emotional low blow.
  • Give the story a very abrupt end.
  • After the end, it's not clear if things are better or worse.
 
She had caught glimpses of glimmering throughout her life. A quickly passing sign, a glance at a page filled with tiny text, the slightest shimmer from the corner of her eye whenever the bus would wiz past the cemetery. Go figure her soulmate's name would appear on a tombstone- but perhaps since she saw it in other places, the name was so common that her true mate was alive? That little flickering ember of hope lingered inside of her even now as she ducked into the cemetery with some friends. They had dared each other to stay there for at least three hours- to stay in the doorway of the tomb that had been there nearly as long as the city had been. Everyone thought it was haunted in some form or fashion- people visiting swore they could hear the piercing wails of someone as they slammed themselves against the heavy cast iron doors held closed by rusted chains and a silver faced lock.

Tonight felt no different, and she swore it was like each step closer to the mausoleum drew her breath away and chilled her body until it felt like nothing was left inside her. She was hollowed by fear and just by looking around at the silhouettes of her company, she could tell they felt the same way. A weak cry of wind whispered around them, making the building sing a solemn tune as it squeezed through cracks and scraped over broken stained glass decorating the tall, domed ceiling. Just as they reached the clearing of grass surrounding the building, another howl rang out through the air. This wasn't wind, they realized.

A large dog growled at them and charged forward, splitting the group of six into various sized as everyone screamed and ran from their original goal. She didn't even look to see if anyone was following her, she just ran, pushing her lean legs as hard as she could in the bitter cold of late Autumn. After ten minutes she slowed and finally looked behind her to see that she was alone in the maze of statues and headstones. Instead of heading for the nearby gates and more familiar paths leading to the front of the cemetery, her legs had decided it would be better to delve deeper into the resting places of the dead. Her breath misted heavily in front of her as she tried to calm her heart, whipping around to try and find some street lamp or the flashing of headlights to guide her way.

A weak glimmer captured her attention again, as it had throughout her life and she swallowed a lung full of air as brown eyes locked onto that point. She followed it, weaving and stumbling through graves that were cracked and mossy in this forgotten place. Some superstition faintly raced through her mind about how it was rude to walk over the graves of those who slept here, and how it would rouse their spirits to curse you, but she pressed forward if a little more careful to walk behind the stones instead of in front of them. The statue she stopped behind held a beautiful Romanesque person on top of a sturdy pillar. They sat with their legs folded to the side, wrinkles and folds were artfully crafted to pool across strong legs and a curved body. The delicate strings of a harp had cracked and weathered away over the years, but even she could tell that it had been a gorgeous stone instrument at one point. It was a woman, and somehow she looked so familiar that it hurt to stare at her for too long.

The glowing letters shone brighter as if demanding her attention and finally she looked down at them. The name left her lips in a whisper, and she felt dizziness overcome her, forcing her to her knees in the dewy grass. Her hands scrambled for purchase on the pillar, which was alarmingly warm, "You found me," A sweet, warm voice breathed above her before the world twisted and shifted into darkness.
 
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Comedy/drama random genre

Blake was bringing up the rear of their little group of four, wondering what in the hell they were doing and why. One day he was going to have to find some friends who were not completely and totally pathologically crazy. He murmured under his breath, "Note to self..make sane friends."

"What's wrong Blake? Getting cold feet?"

"We all have cold feet you idiot, it's 20 degrees out here."

"Whatever...look...there it is.." Mick, the leader of their group of crazies, rattled the gate of the cemetery. "I bet we'll find some great stuff in here..."

Blake somehow doubted they would, but he'd agreed to come and he didn't want to look like a coward now, even if his knees were shaking.

Joey used the crossbars on the gate to climb up and hop over, "Easy guys..follow me."

Mick was the second over followed by Henry and finally Blake. once they were all inside the cemetery walls Mick moved to a large headstone and pulled a bunch of shovels and picks from behind it. "I hid these here earlier..."

Blake blinked, "What are these for?"

Mick slapped his shoulder, "For digging up a dead body of course."

"WHAT? OH NOOOOO....no..no..no..."

"Stop being a baby Blake...we just want to look at one...we'll put it back...sheesh.." Joey scolded.

Henry didn't look any happier than Blake but he didn't say anything. Each boy was handed a shovel and they moved deeper into the cemetery where it was much darker and further away from the street where someone might see them. Mick chose a grave and they all started to dig. The ground was hard and it took a few hours for the four of them to finally get deep enough to get to the casket. Mick's shovel actually went right through the top of it and he started using his hands to finish uncovering it.

All 4 boys were in the hole now and Blake frowned. "Shouldn't we at least know who this is?" he asked.

Mick shrugged, "Go ahead and read the name if it'll make you feel better."

Blake focused his flashlight on the gravemarker and began reading. "Gwendoline Adele Adams. Beloved daughter and sister, taken too soon. January 2, 2000 - April 5, 2015" He frowned. "She was only 15 when she dies...I wonder what happened?" Before he finished speaking the letters on the headstone began to glow and he dropped the flashlight. It hit a rock and the glass and bulb broke.

"Nice going Blake," Joey said shoving him.

"B...but...l...l..look..." he said pointing to the glowing letters. He didn't believe the old tales that said your soul mate's name when read would glow, but there the name was glowing like fire after he read it out loud. He looked down at the coffin and fell to his knees placing his hand upon it.

Mick huffed, "Wow that's a tough break dude. No perfect love for you then."

Blake felt a sense of lose deeper than anything he could ever have imagined in that moment. Suddenly he DID want to see her and he helped them finish uncovering lid so he could open the coffin and look at her. Even though she'd been dead for almost 3 years she looked like she was sleeping. Her hair was a chestnut brown and her skin like ivory. He reached down and touched her hand and her eyes opened. The other boys jumped out of the hole and ran screaming. Blake smiled.

Gwendoline smiled back and then suddenly Blake was trapped next to her in the sealed coffin in a grave that now appeared untouched, the only evidence of anyone being there was the glowing letters of the names as Blake's name now joined hers on the gravestone.
 
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She wasn't sure if she was even human anymore. How could she, when day after day, piece after piece of her was torn away and replaced by metal? They'd taken her hair first- Shaved it all off and pried open her scalp. Those beautiful black locks had fallen uselessly to the floor as she sobbed and strained against the chair in protest.

Next were her eyes- glittering brown pearls pried from her skull and replaced with cameras that her captors could focus and control remotely.

Fingers and legs were slowly stripped away, robotic parts replacing them...her organs were taken, replaced with mechanical pipes that would provide her brain with the needed sustenance...until she was really, truly hollow.

And then they made her fight. They sent her out into the Pit, a pawn for their games- just a brain in a metal shell. She had the strength of a robot but the cunning of a human, and with this on her side, she won every fight they sent her out. She didn't want to know what would happen if she lost.

Then, one day she escaped. Her handlers were careless in their tossing her back into her cage, and she broke free from their normally iron grips. But now she was a freak among the normal humans, and being chased by those who wanted her back. It was bittersweet, but she was free. That alone was worth more than her metal body.
 
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They told themselves it was for a good cause. Sometimes, they even believed it.

The panel of doctors sat in the dimly lit room as the hurricane outside raged. Medical charts lay on the table before them, the undecided left upon its cheap wooden surface while the rest had been discarded to the floor, spared. With eyes that had not closed for nearly twenty four hours, they looked upon the charts in front of them with hatred, both for the people to whom they belonged for what they were about to make these doctors become, as well as the situation they represented.

Fifteen charts. Only ten doses of metrazitamol.

Ava Margret. 74. V-tach, ICU. Great-grandmother, grandmother, mother.

Yolanda Gutierrez. 55. Morbid obesity, diabetes, sepsis. ICU. Mother to two.

Robert Farrin. 65. Long-term care. Lewy body dementia. Double amputee.

Mary Abernathy. 45. Renal transplant lister, dialysis dependent.

The list went on. All dependent, all with low chances of survival, all fragile. Some had bad luck - they were just on the wrong floor and the elevators were bunk. Others had so many comorbidities, the files were three inches thick. It was hard to decide. Was this mercy?

"Abernathy might make it. She's young enough," Dr. Sung said.

"But where's the nearest dialysis machine? The whole city's flooded, and aid's not gonna have one on the offhand someone has it," Dr. Moran muttered, adjusting her glasses.

"Wladislaw is only 25-"

"He has rampant sepsis from an unknown source, and we have biopsies to confirm it's in his liver."

"But does that mean he'll die quickly or not?" asked Dr. O'Dair, and the room went silent. That was the real question. Which of these people would suffer most for the longest?

"Who'll die quickest? Let's put it that way," O'Dair said, scratching his stubble.

"Kresinski. Abernathy, without treatment. Probably Wladislaw," Dr. Sung sighed. "Margret, definitely."

"Then one of those is coming off the list," O'Dair decided.

"We're supposed to be looking at this through survivorship," Moran argued, pointing a whole hand at her elderly colleague. He looked up at her wearily with bloodshot eyes.

"And they will definitely not survive. We're worried about people we can't move who'll still be alive the minute evacuation becomes priority," O'Dair pushed.

The room remained silent. The lights flickered as the storm continued to rage around them. O'Dair picked up each of the four files stated and dumped them on the floor. Now there were eleven files. One more to go.

"Mr. Farrin will probably make it," Sung murmured, tapping the double amputee's chart. "He's unruly, but he'll survive transport."

"Are we in agreement?" O'Dair asked, looking at the other two doctors. The two looked back at him with dead eyes.

"I'll call up the nurses. They'll know where the others are," Sung said, taking up the ten charts they managed to pick out and heading towards the door with them heavily. O'Dair and Moran sat there, silently, head in their hands, at a completely clean table.
 
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@ArgentAconit
Ooh, I shivered! Very well-written! >u< Thanks for posting in here and letting me read it! I don't see why you were worried—this is top tier stuff. B]

@PoetLore
Whoa! Spooky as heck! I love it! I kinda feel for Blake, though, if he didn't die right away. :x lol

@neobendium
A great short piece! It makes me wonder about what's in store for her in the future. =D

@Doctor Jax
Oooh. Ooh that definitely gives that hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. Well done! A horrible choice to make, and it could turn from mercy into something darker if the hurricane eases suddenly. Wonderful writing!
 
Whoa! Spooky as heck! I love it! I kinda feel for Blake, though, if he didn't die right away. :x lol


Yeah I had the same though! I'm having sooo much fun doing all of these! I intend to hit every single one...the gauntlet was thrown down. lol.
 
Yeah I had the same though! I'm having sooo much fun doing all of these! I intend to hit every single one...the gauntlet was thrown down. lol.
I'm glad you're having fun! I can't wait to see what else you write! <3
 
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@ArgentAconit
Ooh, I shivered! Very well-written! >u< Thanks for posting in here and letting me read it! I don't see why you were worried—this is top tier stuff. B]

@PoetLore
Whoa! Spooky as heck! I love it! I kinda feel for Blake, though, if he didn't die right away. :x lol

@neobendium
A great short piece! It makes me wonder about what's in store for her in the future. =D

@Doctor Jax
Oooh. Ooh that definitely gives that hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. Well done! A horrible choice to make, and it could turn from mercy into something darker if the hurricane eases suddenly. Wonderful writing!

Thanks! I was inspired by a case that happened in New Orleans while Katrina hit. Nasty, scary stuff.
 
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Ooh, I shivered! Very well-written! >u< Thanks for posting in here and letting me read it! I don't see why you were worried—this is top tier stuff. B]

./////. Thank you~
I don't think it's all that great but I'm glad that you enjoyed it so well! This wasn't the one I was hesitating to post though, haha. I don't know if I'll ever post the other one, but this was definitely fun to write! I almost added more, to be completely honest.
 
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./////. Thank you~
I don't think it's all that great but I'm glad that you enjoyed it so well! This wasn't the one I was hesitating to post though, haha. I don't know if I'll ever post the other one, but this was definitely fun to write! I almost added more, to be completely honest.
Well, no need to feel like you're pressured to post. <3 I'm glad you wrote, though! For both! And I wouldn't have objected to reading more. ;3
 
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