06 Jul 2019
Today’s prompt: “Explain to the historians of 2150 what it’s like to go to a shopping mall. Remember that they may not have malls in 2150. Or escalators, food courts, or cash.”
Okay, so, malls, y’all. So malls were like a huge thing in the ’80s and ’90s – the 1980s and 1990s, I mean. They were like these big, two- or three-story buildings usually, with a bunch of stores where you could go shopping.
Shooooppiiiing. Like, you know, buying stuff. Trading currency for goods and services.
So, yeah, there’s all these stores in like, rows. Lots of clothing stores, typically. There’s almost always a Claire’s, where people would sell little sparkly baubles for girls to wear in their ears or their hair or around their necks. And there’d be, like, a Gap or something where all the cool kids got their clothes. In the ’90s it totally would’ve been, like, light wash high-rise jeans and bodysuits and khakis and denim jackets.
What’s a bodysuit? Oh man, where do I begin – so, it’s basically a shirt with kind of a flap in the front and the back, and the flaps have snaps on them, and it snaps under your crotch so the shirt was super form-fitting and, like, always stayed perfectly tucked in without poofing out over the top of your jeans, but then you’d have to unsnap it every time you had to go pee.
So yeah, so the clothing stores like the Gap and Abercrombie & Fitch would have all these mannequins in them – mannequins, they’re like, life-size, faceless dolls that you can dress up in the store’s clothes and pose so people would know what it looked like if you wore the clothes. And also didn’t have a face.
Anyway, so these stores would be all in rows and there’d be open spaces between the rows, including openings in the middle of the second floor where you could stare down and people-watch. And the escalators would connect the two levels. Escalators. They’re like stairs, but they move.
What else. So, around Christmas – what do you mean, “what’s Christmas?” You know what, y’all, we do not have time to get into Christmas. So around December, in the middle of the mall, they’d set up this spot where kids could get their picture taken with Santa. They’d put a bunch of fake snow on the ground, and maybe decorate a tree or have some fake gifts or something, and there’d be a big chair where an old guy with white hair and a big white beard would sit. He was called Santa, and he wore a red kind of velvety suit with white fluffy trim on the cuffs, and a red hat with white fluff around the edge and on the tip – it was kind of a floppy, triangular hat. And he’d go Ho Ho Ho and kids would sit on his lap and they were supposed to tell him what they wanted for Christmas and get their picture taken, but usually they just cried.
Sometimes there’d be like a fountain in the middle of the mall, or something like that. And there’d always be a food court. That’s where you’d have a bunch of fast food places. Like, there’s usually a fast food Mexican place, and a fast food Chinese place, and a fast food sandwich place, and a soft pretzel place, and an Orange Julius. Oh, Orange Julius made drinks with orange juice and milk and ice that all got blended together. And sometimes a raw egg, I think, but you had to ask for it. Yeah, I don’t know why people would do that. Anyway, you’d get your fast food on trays and sit down and eat it on tables in the middle of the food court.
Besides the clothing stores and the food court, there could be all kinds of stores. Department stores were pretty common, where they had clothes but also kitchenwares and various appliances. You might run into a Waldenbooks, or a KB Toys, or a Yankee Candle – they had scented candles – or a Bath and Body Works – scented lotions – or a Build-A-Bear, where they had a bunch of stuffed animals and clothes you could dress them up in. I don’t know what to tell you, it was a thing.
Some malls were absolutely enormous. The Mall of America in Minnesota had more than 500 stores. I think it had a LegoLand in it.
And if you were really, really lucky, you could visit a mall without getting torn apart by a mob of the living dead. The mall in my hometown got torn down decades ago, but the memorial’s still here from the big zombie attack in 2019. [The narrator runs her fingers across a large granite memorial with names carved into it, including your own.] They say it started in the Hot Topic.
04 Jul 2019
Today’s prompt: “Write about an arrival that caught you or your character completely unaware.”
All night long, your sleep had been disturbed. You were visited by the Ghost of Cthulhu Past, who showed you yourself as a young acolyte in the Esoteric Order of Dagon, ambitious and eager to impress. You joined with your friends in ceremonies to wake the snoozing, betentacled Old One.
The Ghost of Cthulhu Present showed you tonight’s meeting of the Order. They were cheery, celebrating a successful ritual, drinking champagne and laughing. Your nephew, Fred, suggested inviting you to see their triumph, and the group laughed and jeered. You’ve fallen out of favor at the Order in recent years after your failed coup. That wasn’t necessarily a dealbreaker; political infighting happens almost on a weekly basis at the Order, but you were pretty huffy afterwards and stopped coming to the summoning circles.
The Ghost of Cthulhu Yet to Come silently stared from a hooded robe and pointed a skeletal hand at a wasteland. In the distance, Cthulhu continued his rampage, razing city after city.
You awoke. How long have you been asleep? Was it one night? Was it days?
You threw open the window and called out to a boy on the street. “What’s today?”
“Eh?” the boy replied.
“What’s today, my fine fellow?” you asked once more.
“Today!” replied the boy. “Why, it’s the Day of the Ascension of Cthulhu, of course!”
“It’s the Day of the Ascension of Cthulhu!” you said to yourself. “I haven’t missed it. The spirits have done it all in one night.”
At that moment, Cthulhu rounded the corner, snatched the boy from the street with a greedy mouth-tentacle, and devoured him.
“Merry Ascension, Cthulhu, you wonderful old Old One!” you called out gleefully and opened your arms wide as the monstrous god turned to you. “I’ve been waiting for you!”
02 Jul 2019
Today’s prompt: “Remember something momentous that happened to you. Then write about what happened right before the incident.”
Immediately before the mob of angry villagers stormed your castle and gored you to death with their pitchforks, you and your creation were sitting down with a nice bottle of scotch to toast your success.
“To life,” you said.
“To life,” he replied, raising a glass in his hand, stitches encircling his wrist.
You clinked glasses and felt the whiskey burn your throat.
“Woo!” the monster said as he returned his glass to the table. “Is it supposed to taste like fire?”
“Oh, yes,” you say. “I should have warned you.”
Dimples stretch out toward the bolts in his neck as he smiles. “Fire good.”
And that’s when you heard the ruckus outside.
30 Jun 2019
Today’s prompt: “Write a short obituary of a stranger you’ve recently encountered. Then rewrite it from the point of view of the person’s estranged child.” [I’m going to be giving you a mostly fictional biography just because the insert-your-info-here stuff gets old fast.]
[Insert-your-full-name-here], [insert-your-current-age-here], of [insert-your-hometown-here], died on June 30, 2019, in a car accident.
[Insert-your-name-here] was born in Peoria, Illinois, to Marvin and Glynnis [insert-your-last-or-maiden-name-here]. In high school, they participated in 4-H and lettered in track. After high school, they went to college part-time while serving in the Army Reserve as a radio and communications security repair technician. It was in the Reserve that they first met Riley Jacobs, whom they later married on June 9, 2012. After serving three years in the Army Reserve, [insert-your-name-here] returned to school full-time, earning a degree in biology from Michigan Tech. They joined the Forest Service as a wildlife biologist. They loved the great outdoors and enjoyed going camping and hiking with friends.
[Insert-your-name-here] is survived by Riley and by their son, Damien. Services will be held at [here, the remainder of the obituary is lost as it was carelessly torn from the newspaper and is now being held by a boy above a Bic lighter].
Rest in peace, dear [mother/father/parent]. Or try. We both know it would have been more accurate if the obituary said you died of “unnatural causes.” But few people could know about the demonic chorus howling into your ears as you drove into that tree. I’m – hmm. I was about to say I’m sorry you had to die, but I don’t suppose I am, come to think of it. For what it’s worth, you’ve served your purpose, and now that purpose is done. Well, I’d better be off. Places to go, people to see, prophecies to fulfill.
29 Jun 2019
Today’s prompt: “You are Frankenstein. Write a letter to Mary Shelley thanking her for making your story known.”
“Dear Ms. Shelley,” you wrote,
“I appreciate your interest in telling my story. I hope it will serve as a warning to all mankind against the temptations of playing God, that in attempting to understand and replicate the inner workings of life and existence, we may find ourselves perpetrating horrors. I have lost everything – my brother, my childhood friend, and my love. No creature could be more miserable than I, and I have none to blame but myself and my own actions.
“Enclosed, please find my diaries. They may aid you in the telling of my story. I have entrusted them and this letter to the care of Captain Walton. He may be able to fill you in on any events that may transpire after this last writing.
“I must be off. Walton’s crew will not accompany me or take me further, claiming that the ice makes the journey too dangerous. We have already been trapped in the ice once, so I suppose I cannot blame them, but I cannot allow my creature to escape justice, nor can I leave my dear Elizabeth unavenged. Though its antipathy clearly lies with me, my creature is a danger to mankind, and I cannot in good conscience allow it to escape.
“Walton assures me that by going on on foot across the ice, I have almost certainly signed my death warrant – that I will freeze to death. I am sure he is right, but if I can destroy my hideous creation, it will have all been worth it.
“Thank you, Ms. Shelley. I wish you all the best in your writing endeavors. I would ask you to turn a sympathetic eye toward me in your book, but given what I am responsible for, perhaps it is best if you do not.
“Sincerely,
“Victor Frankenstein”
28 Jun 2019
Today’s prompt: “Find a photograph. Write the story of what’s happening outside the frame.”
In the photo, you’re at the state fair, riding the Kamikaze. You’re raising your arms above your head – or, rather, below them. You’re suspended upside down. You’re laughing. Your metaphorical cup runneth over with bliss. You couldn’t be more delighted.
Just out of frame, the carny running the ride has an expression of horror as he watches the cable snap.
26 Jun 2019
Today’s prompt: “Open your kitchen cabinet. Write a scene incorporating the first three things you see.” [Molasses, honey, spaghetti.]
Time slows to a crawl.
You try to move, but it’s like you’re swimming through molasses. Through January-slow molasses, arctic-friggin’-winter molasses. The world is coming at you, the monsters are coming at you, but you can barely move. Your limbs flail. Your muscles spasm. They feel like overcooked spaghetti. The monsters are coming at you, but the time between when you took your first step to run and the time when you took your second feels like it could have fit in the full 14-and-a-half-minute version of Rapper’s Delight past the bit about Superman, past the bit about the can of beer sweeter than honey, right up to the point about the soggy macaroni and the chicken that tastes like wood.
The monsters are coming at you. And you can’t move.