a different ending, almost

He slipped the ring over his finger, and watched in delight as it reshaped to fit perfectly, as though it had been made for him.  Then the surge of power coursed through his body, tingling along his spine, radiating spasms in his muscles, and he laughed in triumph.  It was delicious in rich malevolence.

To the gathered few, watching in horror, his laugh sounded hoarse and forced.  It was the laugh that escapes a body in so much pain that nothing else can break free of the clenched jaws and restricted throat.  It was miserable, tortured, and terrifying.  They scrambled over the loose rocks of the mountain side to find a safe place to hide from his wrath.

Gollum’s eyes burned with the fires of power and hatred.  For too long had he sought his precious and been forced to play the fool.  For too long had he been separated from his love, and now that it was back in his control, and he felt the full weight of its potential again, he wanted to exact sweet revenge on all who had ever sought to take it from him.

First he would dispose of those miserable hobbits.  Then he would tear apart the two towers and bury Sauron under the lava of Mordor.  If the humans dared to seek him out afterwards he would deal with them too.  They would fall easily under his might.

Stroking the ring lovingly, absently, his fierce gaze easily picked out his enemies as they scurried among the tortured landscape.  His smile showed his remaining razor sharp teeth and he purred, “My precious, we shall kill them all, so we shall.  Yes.  Yes.”

But, then he shook his head, and looked from the ring to Mount Doom, to Sauron’s tower, the eye, wreathed in flame, distracted by some commotion beyond the black gate.  “The ring is mine,” he said with true happiness, an emotion he had felt in ages.  “The kingdom is mine.”

Gollum smiled to the heavens and danced around gleefully.

And then one of the filthy hobbits tackled him and his happiness was once again replaced by rage.

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This bit of silliness was brought to you by this week’s Inspiration Monday writing challenge and, well, when you see the prompts you’ll see why I had to go with a Lord of the Rings shout out:

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The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

EXTINCTION
THE KINGDOM IS MINE
EPILOGUE
MELTING MOON
TALK TO STRANGERS

Plus, how could I not use a prompt that had kingdom as part of it?

But, how about you?  Does one of these word jump out to you?  Why don’t you write up a bit of flash fiction and link it to the Be Kind Rewrite site?  You know you want to!

simple truths

“I’m telling you it wouldn’t.”

“And I’m telling you that can’t be right.  Why would the movies lie?

“For cinematic effect, of course.  People like to hear and see explosions.  That’s why they hand over their hard earned money week after week.  But, there is no air, and therefore no sounds in space.”

Jared, the younger of the two arguing brothers, bit his lip and furrowed his brow as he worked through the new information.  “But, what if something does blow up and the shrapnel hits your space ship, wouldn’t that make a sound.”

“Nope, because there is still no air for the sound waves to travel through,” Mike responded with a shake of his head.

Jared dug his foot into the ground and turned his head away.  Explosions had to make noise.  That was a truth of the world.  To hear otherwise, to learn, to believe, changed everything.  He trusted his older brother, though.

Then the answer came to him and he excitedly whipped his head back up, “But, there is air in the space ship right?”

Jared nodded affirmatively and raised an eyebrow, trying to catch up to his sibling’s train of thought.

“So, the people inside the ship could hear the objects hitting the outside with the vibrations carrying through to the inside!”

Mike considered Jared’s hypothesis for a moment and then agreed,” Outside, no sound.  Inside, sound, yes.”

Jared enthusiastically skipped away from the movie theater and Mike had to race to catch up to him.  Eventually Mike would have to tell Jared that if there was no air in space there was no way there could be fire, and without fire there could be no explosions.  But, he knew his little brother wasn’t quite ready for that truth.

“Wait up!  You know mom will kill me if I let you out of my sight!”

The brothers laughed and ran the whole way home, both of them a little wiser about the ways of the world.

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Word Count: 330

This bit of silliness and knowledge brought to you in response to this week’s Inspiration Monday writing challenge:

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The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

CHOOSE TO FORGET
SOUNDS IN SPACE
PALINDROME
THE FIST
TREADING WATER

Where were you the first time you realized the movie you were watching was unrealistic?  What movie was it?  What happened?

walking to school

The snow piled on top of the ice that had formed over night.  The white powder blanketed everything as the flurry raged on.  White out conditions.  No rational person would venture into such a blizzard.  But, children were held to higher standards as they were ushered out front doors to trudge to school.

His boots crunched through the layers built upon layers.  Every step was a struggle as the snow tried to suck him down into its depths.  He kept waiting to pull his foot up and find that his shoe had fallen victim to the grasping ground.  His arms at his side for balance, he wished desperately to plunge his frozen hands deep into his jacket pockets.  The chill of the morning had no problem biting deep through his gloves to feast on the meat and bones of his fingers.

Hills spread across his field of vision.  He was in a valley and every direction he looked was uphill.  His legs ached from the exertion.  His mind reeled from fatigue.  He had a thousand vivid flashes of the snow cascading down and burying him.  With every step forward, every step up, he morbidly welcomed such a fate a little more.  It would mean rest.  It would mean an end to the absurdity of his trek back and forth to school.

The snow held, though, and he traversed the hills successfully to arrive safely at the little brick school house.  He stomped his feet on the landing to break off the ice crystals that had gathered halfway up his legs, pulled the stocking cap from his head and brushed off the snow that had begun to gather there, and then pushed into the door with a happy sigh as he was buffeted by a warm gust of air.

…..

Charles woke with a start, momentarily confused by the darkness around him, and in a panic, he clutched the sheets tight across his chest.  His eyes adjusted, his mind joined the present, and he realized he was in his room and had been dreaming, an old man’s dream.  The pain of the cold remained, and he massaged the ache from his limbs and snorted at the absurdity of the whole mess.  Never in his 82 years had he been forced to walk through deep snow to school or on any other errand.  He’d always lived near the beach.

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Word Count: 395

It is silly.  It is Tuesday.  It must be another Inspiration Monday prompt response.  I never heard any stories like this from my parents or grandparents growing up.  But, the idea of them is so prevalent that it was the first thing I thought of for the prompt I chose:

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The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

DARK MIRROR
HARD CORE
THE OTHER ME
OLD MAN’S DREAM
THE END OF FOREVER

What about you?  Did your parents ever do the “you kids have it so good now” kind of stories?  What was the farthest fetched out of them?

the wrong warning

“Moira, why must you listen to that same song constantly?  Can’t you mix it up a little bit?”

Moira stuck her tongue out at her mom in response and then turned the music up louder.

Her mom shook her head and said, “You keep making that face, it will stick one day.”  Then she closed the door behind her as she exited into the hall.

Moira hadn’t heard her mom’s warning, the song was much too loud for that, but she knew her mom had said it all the same.  It was the game they’d been playing over the last couple of days, ever since she had found the song that resonated within her soul.  Her mom didn’t, couldn’t, understand that.

Safely alone in her room again, she bounced off the bed and began dancing around while singing along to the lyrics.

…..

An hour later, Moira’s mom returned to her daughter’s room.  She had reached the end of her tolerance for the inane song.  “Moira, that’s enough…,” she started, but her daughter’s room was empty.

Frantically, she looked everywhere, and when the closet turned up empty and there was nothing under the bed, and her daughter was nowhere to be found in the rest of the house either, she returned to Moira’s bed and sat down, defeated, worried.  Only then did she realize the song was still playing at full blast.  She stood up to silence the absurd noise when she noticed something off about it, and yet familiar at the same time.

Listening intently, fulling engaged, she gasped in horror as she realized what had happened.  It was Moira’s voice, added to the song, that she had noticed.  She had always admonished her daughter about making funny faces, but she had never thought to warn that she might get stuck in the music.

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Hooray for silliness!  Did any of your parents ever warn you about your face getting stuck if you made funny faces at your siblings?

This post was brought to you by the amazing prompts of Inspiration Monday:

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The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

STUCK IN THE MUSIC
HAUNTED BOOK
UNDER THE WALL
BURNED OUT EYES
CONSTRUCTION PAPER

a valuable lesson

“Don’t look up!”

“Wha…”

“Don’t do it.  It isn’t a bird.  It isn’t a plane.  It certainly isn’t superman.”

“Well, now I feel somewhat compelled to look up.  If you hadn’t said anything I wouldn’t have known there was something there at all.”

Despite John’s admonishments against it, Jacob flicked his eyes skyward and was shocked by what he caught sight of.  The truth of what he had witnessed shown plainly across his face.

“I warned you,” John scolded while shaking his head left and right.

“Why did you say anything at all?”  Jacob thought about it for a minute and then added, “You did it on purpose!  You had already seen it and you didn’t want to be alone in the misery so you told me not to look up knowing that is exactly what I would do…  Jerk.”

John shrugged his shoulders and looked away, “Well, now what?”

Jacob, despite the pain he knew it would cause, stole another glance up into the bleachers.  “I don’t know.”

Distraught, depressed, he walked away.  A moment later John followed him.

In the bleachers, Julia and Jenny smiled knowingly.  Neither had any intention of dating the boys they were currently making out with.  While nice, Kevin and Kyle weren’t really their type.  The two had simply been recruited to serve the purpose of teaching John and Jacob the valuable lesson of ensuring their girlfriends received formal and prompt invitations to upcoming dances.

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Its silly.  Its fiction.  It must be another Inspiration Monday prompt response:

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The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

DON’T LOOK UP
IRREPLACEABLE
CRACKED PROMISES
YESTERDAY’S NEWS
SNAKE OIL BARON