Prompt 5: Weeks of 19, 26 December 2010 and 02, 09, 16, 23 January 2011

"Write about somebody who gets three wishes."

Submissions are due 31 January at 12:00 A.M.

Third Time's the Charm

Except when it comes to Round 4, which ended in yet another tie between Gregory M. and Gabriel Reynolds.

4. Gabriel Reynolds

4. Gregory M.

Related only by its impertinence:

4. Nixon Ball

Prompt 4: Week of 12 December 2010

"Submit any number of related data tables, charts, or graphs."

Submissions are due 20 December at 12:00 AM.

Another Tie For Round 3

Round 3 ends in a tie between Gabriel Reynolds and Gregory M. 

3. Gregory M.

Their immaculately furnished flat welcomed him as he made his way across it. He stopped at his wine rack and selected a Swiss Pinot noir. He carried the bottle to the far end of the flat and stood at the floor-to-ceiling window looking out upon the city. Would they have predicted the Pinot noir? Are they yet prescient? He wondered to himself. He turned his attention to the impressive irony: the reason he was able to provide so well for his wife would be precisely what stopped him from providing for her. His wife stood in the doorway to the master suite, overcome with anxiety. Keeping his eyes focused beyond the window, Mr. Ray began to let spill what must be spilt.

“I was an inside man. A researcher. A staff-scientist, an experimenter, experimentee, subject, subjector. I was a trial, one of the first, not the last. I don’t work for CarbonTronics Consolidated, dearest, though I wish I were so innocent.”

She tilted her head slightly, wondering.

“This isn’t the CIA or the FBI or the Mafia, honey. Those guys let you go. All you have to do is best a few hitmen and it’s gone from your past. Then you move on. Not so with my… organization,” he continued.
            He turned to her, really observing her. He had taken her for granted for so long. He noticed her lower jaw slacking just slightly.

“I don’t understand, honey, what makes you say all this?”

“Dearest, have you ever taken an aptitude test?” He was insulting her. He knew her vast education preceded her.

“Why, of course. Not since finishing at the University, though. I’m confused, dear.”

“My… organization uses a type of aptitude test to select its workers, subjects, employees, experiments. But it’s strictly that: an aptitude test. They don’t care about your past. They care about how you will respond to what they do to you. They enhance you. They change you. They want to make sure you can handle it well.” Were the details important? Yes. She would herself die of anxiety if he remained a mystery any longer.

“And you passed the test?”
            “Yes, dearest Bretta, I passed the test.”

“Did they… enhance you?”

“Yes, Bretta. My nervous system. It’s how they change you. They help your brain communicate. All electrical signals are subject to some sort of resistance. Your brain communicates with itself and with your inferior nervous systems with electrical signals.” Again he was insulting her, a prominent medical professional.

“So Bretta, what if you could get rid of some of the resistance felt by those signals? That was these people’s grand question. They answered it—using injection. The active agent binds to nervous components. Spinal column, dendrites, individual neurons, everything. It’s a coating; think of it like an organic superconductor. Brain signals suddenly have no difficulty traveling. More signals per second, more information per second. Faster processing. They dealt with subjects’ overheating with the second prototype serum.”

“Dear, please stop. You’re such an engineer; I don’t want details. Tell me why you’re telling me all this. Other than to be honest with your wife.” Mrs. Bretta Ray grew stern on the surface, but she was really growing dangerously anxious. Was her husband a damn lunatic?

“They did it to me. I was one of the first. It’s not so bad; just helps you think. It really helps you think. Makes you a valuable asset to whomsoever you want to be an asset for. They sent me on an assignment, dear. Reconnaissance in Eastern Asia, and I gained some—err, valuable—information. That information is why I’m abandoning this nameless, faceless, Godless, monstrous organization that thought it could use its damn serum to help me help it. But it’s not so easy, honey. They know that I know how they work, how they use their precocious army of agents to get around all worldly obstacles. They’ll deduce pretty quickly (oh, quickly!) that I’m abandoning them, and they won’t have it. They will come to drain me, honey. Drain my mind. Not my thoughts, or memories, but drain it physically—I’ll have a useless husk of a mind.”

She burst into tears. Which would be worse? That her husband is so hopelessly insane or that it’s true?

He placed the wine bottle on the carpet, where it promptly spilled, and he approached his wife. He kissed her knowing that he may not do so ever again. She let him leave the flat without protest, but she collapsed and sobbed after he was gone.

Mr. Ray had a crude plan. He would find a hotel. They would trace him there, doubtless. They were probably already waiting in the random hotel he would choose. If he could kill them, he would. He double-checked for the weight of his primary and secondary firearms: they were there. Otherwise, he’d make them damn sure that his invaluable knowledge wasn’t to be had.

He had been sitting on the single bed for less than twenty minutes when there was a knock on the door of room 414.

“Mr. Ray, we need to speak about your assignment. It’s pressing, and you can help us.”

Don’t they know I’m one of them—anything but a fool?

The door opened. Mr. Ray saw one of them stowing a lock-picking mechanism. No doubt he had designed it himself, perhaps earlier that day.

Four agents. It was useless. Drawing a weapon—even on himself—would mean instant capture. They’d see it coming.

But there’s an outcome they couldn’t have predicted. Computed. I have no choice, they’ve worked out every alternative to their advantage. I can be sure of that. They wouldn’t come here without deductive certainty of success. But they neglect the irrational. What I know does not belong to them. I’ll keep it that way if I die to do so.

Mr. Ray slowly stood and turned away from the door. The agents calmly approached from behind. There were certain surprises the agents expected; they embodied the ability to expect the unexpected. The surprise of Mr. Ray bolting towards the hotel’s bay window, hurling himself through it, and falling to his death was not a rationally foreseeable outcome. The agents stood dumbfounded for the first time since their injections.

EPILOGUE

Mr. Ray’s body was collected by his former employer within minutes. It was in excellent condition. His brain was scanned, and impressions left therein by the neurological signals of his final thoughts were reconstructed into a comprehensive record of his latest assignment.

3. Gabriel Reynolds

This room needs a breeze.

I need a release.

I need to get the most out of this situation. I have some potential kinetic energy up on the fourteenth floor here. Or – shit, science is silly. Potential gravitational? Which was it? Too stuffy in here to think. This room needs a breeze. I can make the most of that potential here on the fourteenth floor. Not much else potential left. It all went somewhere, somehow. I know the energy just kind of transferred, I know that much about science – never goes away, just gets put somewhere else. Maybe somebody else got that kinetic energy, that happiness for moving forward that got burnt out of me. Is that – no, no, stupid, that’s not how karma works; you don’t swap karma credit with other people while you’re still alive. What I know about karma is that it involves death, and redemption. I can make the most of that potential here on the fourteenth floor.

But… I guess kinetic – gravitational – dammit, whichever, whatever, I just know it involves two places, not one. You make that swift, decisive movement from one place to another – two places, not one. Who’d want something so boring as a one-scene story? Not much else potential, having just one place to go. Cuz you’re already there. Big places to go, all of them nowhere. Big people to see, all of them me. Shit, who am I kidding, some big person I am. Some big place I’ve been living in! Big enough to feel far away, no matter where you go. Big enough to be there no matter what you do.

Hey, that gravity though. There’s potential there. I’ve got so much potential up here. And it’s down there too? Shit, the perfect pair of places for this two-scene tragedy. All that potential. Who knew. But hey, it’s funny though, cuz without that whole second scene, there wouldn’t be this potential in the first one to begin with. That’s funny; I mean I guess that’s how potential energy works? The first part takes its meaning from the second cuz that’s why there can be movement in the first place?

It is stuffy as SHIT in here. This room needs a breeze. Somebody’s gotta open a window, kill two birds with one stone. Or I guess – ha, the bird’ll take care of it himself. Only one bird anyway, sticks and stones and shit all redundant.

Fresh air. Oh my god. That smells impossibly delicious. This is what freedom smells like. This is what potential smells like. I have to… I have to be there. Two birds with one stone, I guess. Or… right, one bird. No stones. No sticks. Dumb bird that never flew before. Never knew how. Well, I don’t care this time. Breeze or no breeze, this bird’s gonna fly.

Easy.

I hope they never close

that window again.

Oughta smell the

potential once

and a while.

Whoops,

this

is

my

stop

3. Nixon Ball

Forgive the length, due to time constraints I didn't do much planning and just started writing, only stopping when I felt done. I then did my best to eliminate waste, while still making haste.

Margaret was a girl unlike many others. Her long blonde silken hair was revered by the land's many adoring men, and reviled by it's many envious women. Her figure and countenance were of such beauty that they could only be compared properly to that of Aphrodite. Of course, Margaret's unsurpassed beauty was not the only which set her apart from other girls. As if God had decided when creating her that this particular girl was not yet fortunate enough, Margaret was the daughter of the King of all the land. The land was prosperous, its fields yielded crops with astonishing efficiency and its mountains were practically teeming with gold. Sadly, in this land and in all the lands surrounding it, the concept known to reader as art had not yet been discovered. So the castle had no ornamentation, homes had no décor, cathedrals had no stained glass. All "design" choices were made by engineers in the most practical way possible. No one had ever thought to alter how some looked, so it would be more pleasing. It goes without saying that no one had ever though to make pleasing sounds or even a realistic sculpture.

On her 18th birthday, after a party so spectacular that the reader can't possibly conceive of it (this is inherently true, because no one wealthy enough to comprehend the extravagance of the party would be bothered to read) she had a vision as she slept. In her mind's eye she saw a beautifully cut block of marble. When Margaret awoke the next day she told her parents what had happened in her mind while she slept. Not wanting even their daughter's subconscious to want for anything, the King and Queen ordered a large block of marble exactly as Margaret had described it. Slightly frustrated with her parents overzealous efforts to please, she had the servants move the half ton block to the top room of the highest tower.

The next night Margaret saw a chisel and hammer. Following her usual pattern she told her parents about the strange vision, and before long there were several hammer/chisel combinations laying beside the marble in the top room of the tallest tower. Then the sleeping started to get quite strange for Margaret. She would see herself being celebrated through out the land. She was riding in a parade around the Castle being thrown in her honor. She could sense that everything seemed much more beautiful. There were things she could see which made happy, and sounds that pleased her greatly. Then she would force her way through the crowd to her beckoning parents. All along her way people thanked her for bringing them "art". Then as the confused princess reached her parents, her mother would weep, point to a beautiful marble sculpture and proclaim that it was the best invention in the history of the land. After having felt the grandness of her life in this dream world Margaret could not bear to live her real life. So she set out to make the vision come true. She worked day and night on what she imagined would be the first of many projects. She became very attached to the physical product and the ideas it represented, and she began to refer to the whole thing as her "dream".

Margaret put all of her best effort into the dream, and after two years she was finished. Sadly, on the day she completed the project, the King was informed by a page that his wife had been having a torrid, love affair with one of the royal knights. The king had been a very forgiving and docile man his entire life, but his love for his wife was such that this news sent him into a catastrophic rage. He ran frantically through the castle throwing everything about. The anger fueled a desire for destruction which seemed to be insatiable. After he finished destroying the first 3/4ths of the castle, he furiously began searching for things to destroy in Margret's quadrant. Margaret quickly ran out of her study to see what was the matter. Her servants informed her of what had passed and led her to the King. Margaret pleaded, weeping with her royal father to calm down, but the man was too consumed by rage to even hear his daughter. He tore through every room until finally he reached the top room of tallest tower where Margaret's dream was waiting, under a cloth, to be revealed.

Showing incredible strength, the King lifted her dream off the ground and dragged it to the window. Margaret screamed and cried for him to please put it back. She tried to explain that it was her "dream" and she had just gotten it right. But the old man had lost all sense of reality and with a great heave he defenestrated Margaret's sculpture. It left the window and immediately started descending to the ground. Margaret sprinted to the window, instinctively but futilely attempting to prevent the now inevitable demise of the first piece of art in all the land. Margaret put her head in her hands, she felt as if all the life, happiness, and purpose had gone from her. Her sadness was such that she could not even cry, she could not even move, she could not even think.

She lived out the rest of her days in miserable, depressed, stupor while her father was institutionalized and her mother ran away to another land with young knightly lover. The kingdom fell into ruin as its leaders were either incapacitated or had ceased to care, and all because Margaret's dream was destroyed that day.

And this boys and girls, is the story of how Margaret's dream, went out the window.

Prompt 3: Week of 05 December 2010

"Write a story centered about a defenestration."

Submissions are due 13 December at 12:00 A.M.

A Tie Slows Gabe's Rampage

Round 2 results in a tie between Gabriel Reynolds and Gregory M.
Gabriel Reynolds remains undefeated on Good Words Don't.

2. Nixon Ball

This can be listened to/performed mentally to this track http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/search/song?q=turn%20my%20swag%20on%20instrumental
or over the actual song.

(Message to) The Atheist [Turn Ma Swag On Parody]

By Nixon Ball

Good Words, Spread 'Em!

Uhave2 hop up out dat bed

Turn your brain off

Take a look in da mirror say "I got faith, I got faith"

Yeah… I'm getting saved… Ah(men)

Hop up out dat bed

Turn your sense off

Take a look in da mirror say "I believe, I believe"

Yeah… I'm getting saved… Ah(men)

Turn my brain offff.

It's my turn to lift him up! Yeah, yeah.

I got my Christ on, neglected facts ah

My parents lift him up! Yeah, yeah.

I got a question: Why you hating on God?

I got a question: Why you questioning it?

There ain't nothing to it, just accept what your told.

You've just got to believe, just know in your heart.

Give thought up! Ah(men) Give reason up! Ah(men)

When I was 5 years old

They put it in muh head, I'ma die for my loohhd[lord]

{Good Words, Spread 'Em}

Hop up in dat pew

Turn your brain off

Take a look in da hymnal say "Wasup, Jesus?"

Yeah I'm talking to Him. Ah(men)

Hop up in dat pew

Turn your sense off

Take a look in da bible say "That's fact, That's fact

Itsss…. A hist'ry book Ah(men)

I've got it right.

I know a lot of y'all have different beliefs. Buuuuuttt….. Buutttt...

You all are wrong…..

All of ya'll are going straight to hell…. YEAAAAAHHHHHH…. YEAAAAHHH.

Jesus told the world his story, he's the son of God

All those other religions are wrong, you know they crazy. YEAAAHH… YEAHHHH..

Now they all say crazy things, they tell you lies

They say there gods have many arms, or are animals! That's messed up. YEAAAAAH…… YEAHHHHHH.

{Good Words, Spread 'Em}

Hop up in dat pew

Turn your brain off

Take a look in da hymnal say "Wasup, Jesus?"

Yeah I'm talking to Him. Ah(men)

Hop up in dat pew

Turn your sense off

Take a look in da bible say "That's fact, That's fact

Itsss…. A hist'ry book Ah(men)

Since this is a rather cheap and sad attempt at comedy.....
Refer yourself to my potpourri in the comment attached to this post.

There you will see another sad but slightly less cheap attempt at comedy

2. Gabriel Reynolds

Clear my mind and look to the sky

Count the stars and whisper goodnight

Dream a dream that feels like a lie

Question words that keep me alive

And the child in me dies

When I open up my eyes

Sleep in silence deep in the dark

Leave a prayer that misses its mark

Feel my heart beat all on its own

Question words that gave me a home

And the child in me dies

When I open up my eyes

It’s the bitterest surprise

When you open up your eyes

There’s no joy in livin’

Life unforgiven

Clear my mind and look to the sky

Watch the sun and whisper goodbye

Live a life that feels like the truth

Lose a soul that feels like a life

And the child in me dies

When I open up my eyes

It’s the bitterest surprise

When you open up your eyes

It’s the bitterest surprise

When you open up your mind

.

2. Gregory M.

Preachers had told him of God’s utter grace,

The promise of his slice of Heaven one day.

Johnny lived his life to get to that place,

Honest and docile, as the Book would say.

Ten years Johnny never doubted his God

Or His power to soothe rage and aching,

‘Til God told John in a dream he was flawed

And John’s faith was then stressed to its breaking.

“Johnny, listen to me, thy Eminence.

I’m a conception, yet you think me real.

Your life has been a show, a performance

Which you boast as the root source of its zeal.

Your life is led by my hand,

A ventriloquist dummy.

Think trusting that it’s all planned  

Will keep food in your tummy?

Live your life like a mime show,

Invisible boundaries.

But you must box yourself in

Not for fun but Holy fear.

Shown a sword or a gospel
You will swallow the latter

And take it as factual,

And a literal matter.

But that’s your best performance,

I wish now to admit it.

As the one real audience

To your religious pageant.”

John so feared what God admitted him thus,

That he searched through natural consciousness

For a new Lord and quantum of goodness:

John the atheist spurning the blindness.

Prompt 2: Weeks of 21 and 28 November 2010

"Write lyrics to a song called 'The Atheist.'"

Submissions are due 06 December at 12:00 A.M. Holiday extension.

Gabe Claims Round 1

Congratulations once again to Gabriel Reynolds!

1. Gabriel Reynolds

jonahman999: hey sup

fishxforxlife: hey nm how bout u

jonahman999: i got a problem dude

fishxforxlife: lol wuts up

jonahman999: im stuck in a fuckin whale

fishxforxlife: dude

fishxforxlife: u r joking

jonahman999: no for real

fishxforxlife: lol man

jonahman999: it swallowed me

jonahman999: whole

fishxforxlife: u r pullin my leg 4 sure

jonahman999: i swear to his holiness

jonahman999: goddam truth

fishxforxlife: man

fishxforxlife: crazy

fishxforxlife: cant believe u get wifi

jonahman999: i now man im suprisd to

fishxforxlife: well

fishxforxlife: im no good with whales

fishxforxlife: just fish

jonahman999: duuuuuuude

jonahman999: please

jonahman999: just cast a fuckn net

jonahman999: ur my guy man

fishxforxlife: that just wont hapen

fishxforxlife: its ridiculs

jonahman999: please

jonahman999: im hungry

fishxforxlife: so was the whale

fishxforxlife: LOL

jonahman999: fuk u dude

singal lost

signal restored

fishxforxlife: dude lost u there

jonahman999: sry

jonahman999: blowhole closed

fishxforxlife: ur funny

jonahman999: IM NOT JOKIN

fishxforxlife: sure

jonahman999: rly

fishxforxlife: whatev

fishxforxlife: gotta go

fishxforxlife: sacrifice lamb for lord b4 din

jonahman999: jesus

jonahman999: please

fishxforxlife: just pray dude

fishxforxlife: always wrks 4 me

fishxforxlife: well sometimes

fishxforxlife: cya

jonahman999: DUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDEEEEE

fishxforxlife has signed off

1. Gregory M.

Dust settled in the wake of a tall and thin man as he stepped inland from the Jordan River. He wore fringed robes of linen and a complacent expression as he crossed the sun-baked earth. A close friend of his who was called John had just been brutally killed and he had come to the riverside for solitude. “The trials of this earth,” he thought, “are just that: of this earth. I must channel myself toward benevolence, even now.”

Jesus of Nazareth could be seen approaching from the riverside as he emerged from behind the riverbank. The crowd offered an endearing cheer as he drew closer, and their faces grew eager. The crowd did not move to surround Jesus, but allowed him to surround himself by it. Jesus gestured politely as he passed through the mass of his followers, and he seated himself on a stone near the center of the crowd. There he sat undisturbed for many hours, having requested a time for reflection. After the sun had set, a man rose from the crowd and approached Jesus of Nazareth.

“This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late,” He said. “Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves food.” The man spoke directly into Jesus’ ear, but all nearby could hear.

“They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.”

“We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish,” offered a woman from the crowd.

“Bring them here to me,” answered Jesus of Nazareth.

Jesus of Nazareth gestured for those around him, who had begun to approach anxiously, to sit and wait. He grasped the basket of bread and the basket of fish and lifted them skyward. He tilted his head back and his lips moved faintly for a few seconds. His unkempt beard betrayed a slight breeze. He replaced the baskets on the ground and motioned for those in the crowd to approach. Women came first, then children. Men waited for their wives to return. Each follower took half a loaf of bread from one basket and a cut a slice of fish from the other. Jesus of Nazareth smiled and focused on the horizon on the river as the entire crowd ate.

“Stop.”

The screen froze bearing the image of a contented Jesus Christ standing beside two baskets full of bread and fish.

“And we’re sure this is that old?”

“Yes, we’re sure. The tape itself required weeks of blind-reconstructive work in order to be digitized and replayed. As I mentioned, it was found by my team in a cave in southwestern Lebanon. The Lebanese government had just green-lighted the cave for international excavation.”

The professor stood bewildered, transfixed by the image burning itself on the screen and into his mind. “These guys are the best,” he thought, “and the tape withstood their tests.”

“We don’t expect you to mandate what we do with it, professor, but we needed to consult you.” The excavation crew’s leader seemed emotionally separated from the situation.

The professor gathered himself slowly, then managed: “This will cause more trouble than it will resolve, but we don’t have a choice.”

1. Nixon Ball

God Knew Them All

“Joe, what are we going to do?” she inquired desperately.

“I don’t know, but they will stone you to death if it is discovered you are with child out of wedlock,” responded Joseph contemplating their options.

One night of passion and Galilean wine had brought them into potentially fatal predicament. Joseph knew that they had to conceal Mary’s pregnancy until after they were married. But how could they explain the child’s birth only 6 months after their marriage? Besides it would be impossible to hide the pregnancy from Mary’s father, an angry but devoutly religious man. If he found out, he would surely be the first to cast a stone against his daughter. The predicament had found the couple in a desperate place, searching for a way out of the terrifying consequences of their sinful actions.

Then, as Mary lay in her bed one night, she was struck by an idea, as if it had come to her in a dream. Mary had heard stories that the Roman soldiers and tax collectors had brought with them Galilee. She heard of a woman named Rhea Silva who, after finding herself in a predicament similar to Mary’s, had saved her life by claiming the pagan god Mars was the child’s father. The next morning Mary shared her scheme with Joseph, who thought it was so crazy, it just might work.

So the couple agreed that Mary would tell her father, while Joseph would pretend to not believe the story until one of God’s angels “visited” him in a dream. And so on the same day that Augustus Caesar decreed a census should be taken of all Roman lands, Mary told her father that she had been impregnated, not through sexual intercourse, but rather by the God of the Israelites. This virgin pregnancy was part of God’s plan to save the world, which he in his omnipotence could only do by sending his son (as a mortal man) to Earth.

Mary’s father sat calmly and patiently while Mary relayed the story of an angel named Gabriel coming to her and informing her of God’s plan. Just as she was finishing explaining that the child should be named Jesus, Joseph came bursting into the house. Joseph then proceeded to recount his encounter with a different angel who had told him to forgive Mary, and help raise God’s child.

“Father, tell me that you feel I speak the truth,” pleaded Mary at her father’s feet.

“Yes my daughter, I don’t believe that you would lie to me. You wouldn’t take me for such a fool as to come to me with such an outlandish claim, if it were a lie. I will support you before the high priest in due time. But first, Joseph, do you have some spare time this afternoon?” Mary’s father spoke at last.

“Yes sir, I have time all afternoon, all my carpentry is finished for the day,” replied Joseph.

“Good, because I would like to have you do something with Mary and I, just to confirm your story.”

“Anything sir, what can I do?”

“My friend is a doctor and he recently was bragging about a new procedure he can do.”

“A procedure, of what kind?”

“It’s called… a paternity test.”

Epilogue

The paternity test results of course showed that the baby (boy) was, in fact, the biological child of Mary and Joseph. While Joseph lived his life with almost no repercussions, Mary was stoned to death publicly immediately followed the birth of Jesus, which occurred in a prison cell, because she wasn't allowed to travel in order to take part in the census, for fear the unwholesome woman would never return to Nazareth. Jesus received, a warm wool blanket and was given to Mary's father as an adopted child. Friends of the family (including some pretty unwise men) gave copper, salt, and ceramic. Jesus then grew up at the bottom of society since all his peers parents remembered the circumstances under which he was conceived. At the age of twelve, young Jesus was actually thrown out of the Temple for making up fantastic interpretations of scripture (purely a cry for attention). Jesus became a carpenter like his father, never left Nazareth, and died in obscurity at age 78.