100 Word Stories: September 11, 2005 Archives

September 11, 2005

Volume 6, Issue 11

Something has been taken from you. What is it?

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Ted: The New Gods, Part Seven

Crawling, hands and knees scraped and bloody. I'll not let this be my last.

I stand.

I never had honor, so they couldn't take that. I never had valor or courage or strength either. They kept beating me until all these things I never had were memories.

They forget who I am and what it means to be me.

One step forward. They are frightened, as they should be.

Of the things I didn't have, I didn't have patience most of all.

"Return to me my compassion and I will let you live." It isn't easy being a fallen god.

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Stacy: Trapped

"Give it back!" she screamed. Had been screaming forever. Would scream until she died.

A hollow laugh floated down the corridor, she turned swiftly towards the noise, but it was gone. She ran blindly down the halls, turning sometimes left, sometimes right.

Her hands were ragged and bloody from clawing at doors that would not open, windows that would not break. Her clothing was stained with her own filth, falling off her increasingly gaunt body.

Trapped in her own mind, she screamed endlessly at a mocking voice she could not find. Outside, the sun shone, birds sang, the world turned.

Michele: Have You Seen Her?

I think I see walk by the house and I follow. I think about grabbing her, pushing her hair back from her face, telling her I love her, then I remember that it’s gone, all gone.

I walk and cry.

I crane my neck around and I think I see her again, black hair and pleading eyes and trembling lips and my heart cracks, bleeds and falls apart right there. Someone picks me up, hands under my arms and I go limp. I don’t even turn to look for her. I know she’s gone. I. Know. She’s. Gone.

She’s gone.

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