Assuming this was from Utter!
“How do I look?” said my wife, the stupid old hag. I despised her, I especially despised her inane narcissism. I pretended not to hear her and carried on watching telly.
“How do I look?” she repeated. She stood at the doorway leaning against the frame in a pose that I suppose she thought was alluring and sexy. She was wearing a bright orange dress and high heels. The dress was too tight and showy for her humpty dumpty physique.
The corpse of the twaddle-copter lay half buried in the orange sand. It occasionally pinged as it’s large rotator blades tried to move. Ravvey Combey-Twaddle, the pilot of the twaddle-copter, looked at the blue cloudless sky. He was tired. It was only few days since the crash but he was already looking haggard. Rough stubble began to grow on his face and his normally pale of complexion was becoming tanned.
He had crashed the twaddle-copter crashed because he was showing off. Stupid air twists and stunts in the sky. All for the sake of gasps and giggle with delight of the crowd. He scolded himself for pushing the twaddle-copter further and further
This was from a Utter! workshop with Richard Tyrone Jones where the brief was to write about disabled superheros.
Captain De Vere surveyed the city from the rooftop wheezing as he took it in all awful concrete beauty of the megalopolis. He had resigned himself to the fact that it would be a quite night when his pager vibrated. A robbery in progress. Smiling he leapt off the building, these brief moments of almost flight made his mutation worth it. Any “normal” person diving off a mile high building without a parachute would end up smeared on the pavement. De Vere smashed into the asphalt hard, it hurt, but the pain was worth it. As he tried to get up he hacked up some phlegm. He moved the slimy mucus around in his mouth before he spat it out.
He had to be quick. He quicker he moved, the quicker he would trip and fall. Falling at maximum speed would get him towards the crime scene.
People in the city used to stare but they had long grown used to the sight of the Captain. The crowded streets politely ignored the Captain as he made his way.
He arrived at the scene of the robbery. The rush to get there had exhausted him. He resisted the urge to clear his lungs. Criminals had to be stopped.
He rarely captured criminals because he was weak and easily tired. But he was nigh on invisible and even if he only slowed them down a little till his fellow police officers arrived it was worth it.
The robbers burst out from the buildings carrying out small boxes. The Captain ordered them to stop in the name justice! They kept moving and Captain Diving dived towards them with his mightiest leap and knocked one of the robbers to the floor. They grappled, the criminal started pounding away at the Captain with fists and elbows. They had no effect on the Captain. The other criminals stopped and dropped their boxes. They screamed something and pulled out guns and blasted away.
“Holy fuckin’ Nora” yelped the Captain as the robber on top of him went limp. Dead limp. Guns were serious, time to break out the Jackie Chan prat falls. Captain hacked up more phlegm, he kipped up to his feet and spat the mucus in their faces of the gun wielding villains who were still firing away.
Not sure what the prompt was
There are so many young people here. This is proof, in any were needed, of how long ago my life went off track. I have to start at the beginning again. I have wasted so many years.
I have grown to hate my dog. He has changed and I can’t tolerate his behaviour anymore.
It used to be different, we used to be happy, all of us together. Me, Mel and the the two little ones. The perfect family, mum, dad, Casey and Phil and our mongrel dog (Mel insisted he was a Golden retriever mix) Boppi.
Boppi was great with the kids. Playful, protective and gentle no matter how rough they were with him. They loved him. When me and Mel got together she was not too keen on Boppi, she thought him ugly with his long fur that was a shade of dull brown with patches of grey. But she could see how much he meant to me.
God I miss her.I miss that life. I’d do anything to get that life back. Me and Mel tried, we tried until we got tired of trying.
Boppi has a permanent sneer on his face. He growls and barks all the time. He’ll take his food and water from me but nothing else. He snaps at me when I try to take him for a walk.
Finished all the stories in the Purple Notebook. The rest of the all contained notes (actual notes!) from seminars and quotations from books. The next book is the Red Notebook. Onto the first story.
“Why do they stare?” Reza wondered pulling his overcoat tighter as if this would in some way shield him from what he perceived to be the hostile eyes of the strange people in the street. He did not want anything of this city anymore. He wanted to switch off his brain and only have it turned back on again when he had left the city limits.
At first the confused mix of old, almost ancient, buildings made of stone and skyscrapers made from glass and steel excited Reza. He was stunned. That is what this city did. It hit you over the head and concussed you. It altered your brainwaves and stopped you from thinking straight.
Reza hated it now. He hated it so much. He spent a little bit of every day thinking how much he would enjoy seeing in burned to the ground or shelled out of existence. So He walked trying to keep his eyes down on the grimy streets. He felt as filthy as the pavement he walked on. Every step he took out of the city he felt cleansed him. He journey out of the city was a walking ablution.
He had planned a wonderful life for himself outside the city limits. A life he could live. All he needed was to get out. Caught in this daydream state he almost stepped out infront of a bus. The vehicle screeched past him.