18 Mar 2019
Today’s prompt: “The president’s personal to-do list”
From the Desk of Robert Cooper, 48th President of the United States:
To-Do List:
9 a.m. – Presidential Daily Briefing.
10:30 a.m. – Interfaith meeting in the Rose Garden with the heads of the Black Brotherhood, the Church of Starry Wisdom, and the Esoteric Order of Dagon.
1 p.m. – Address the nation about the Anti-Cultist terrorist threat from within our nation.
2 p.m. – Meet with Speaker Pérez on legislation establishing national holiday in honor of Dread Cthulhu.
4 p.m. – Photo op with donors.
5 p.m. – Convene in war room with advisors on sending in the FBI to take out pockets of resistance fighters in Utah and Vermont led by Catherine Freeman and [insert-your-name-here].
7 p.m. – Dinner with U.N. Secretary General.
9:30 p.m. – Yoga.
10:30 p.m. – Ritual bloodletting.
17 Mar 2019
Today’s prompt: “Write a scene in which a person is leaving a restaurant with her husband and bumps into a former lover. What words are exchanged or not exchanged? What do her body positions say?”
When you ran into Christine and her new husband Will in the parking lot outside Dickey’s BBQ Pit, you didn’t think anything of it. That was years ago, and you two just weren’t a good match. You smile and nod, and move on towards the front door.
You didn’t notice Christine’s body language, which was clearly telling Will that you would be a perfect person to sacrifice in the bloody pentagram in their cult leader’s basement. Of course, your back was turned when she got to the stabby motions, so you can’t really blame yourself that they were able to surprise you.
16 Mar 2019
Today’s prompt: “Write a scene that begins: ‘It was the first time I killed a man.’”
“It was the first time I killed a man. You never forget your first. He had sandy blond hair. Kind of a weedy little beard. I’d been staking him out for about a week. I prayed. I asked if he was the one I was looking for. And one day as I was walking past him, saying to myself, ‘Cthulhu, give me a sign,’ a cloud blotted out the sun and it got incredibly dark out. And I was like, ‘This is it. Now I know.’
“I was all nervous and giddy. I had this real fancy ceremonial dagger. I don’t really mess with that anymore. Let the young kids have their flash. A simple knife will do.
“I totally messed up, too. Completely fucked up when I tried to knock him out and pull him into the van. Freaked out and killed him before I was able to bring him back to the altar. Never forgot the shame of that. But his blood was hot and it covered my hands. Even though everything went wrong, there was still this thrill, his blood cooling sticky on my hands and the light going out in his eyes.
“That almost never happens now. The priest tells me all the time I’m one of the most reliable poachers. That I’m much better at getting sacrifices to the altar without drawing attention than the other cultists are.
“You know, I really like the fact that Reverend Critch lets us kill the sacrifices we bring in. A lot of priests, they do all the kills themselves. Make the poachers do all the work, but don’t let them have any of the fun.
“Sorry, I’m like this all the time. Whenever I have to wait a few minutes for Reverend Critch to show up to do all the incantations, I just start babbling. It’s not like I’m nervous. Excited, maybe, I guess. It’s a good thing we’re down here where nobody can hear either of us. Especially not you, what with the gag, ha ha.
“But yeah, it’s funny how you never forget your first kill. I can barely remember the guy I killed yesterday, but I still remember that one.
“Oh, gosh, I don’t want you to think you’re not memorable or anything. All victims are special in their own way. You put up a really great fight! Most people I just take completely off guard. You’re one of the more interesting people I’ve dealt with in a while!
“Oh, I think I hear the reverend now. Sorry to cut our chat short. Um. I’ll try to make it quick.”
15 Mar 2019
Today’s prompt: “An estranged mother and son who haven’t seen or spoken to each other in more than twenty years meet in line at the post office in December, arms full of packages to be mailed. What do they say to each other?”
“Son.”
“Mom.”
“I see you’re sending off packages to the Dark Reverend. At least you’re still doing that.”
“Mom. Just because I don’t go to Black Sabbath every Saturday doesn’t mean I’m not a Cultist.”
“Well. I’m glad to see you’re sticking to the old traditions.”
“Yeah.”
“One of your packages is leaking.”
“Crap. Um. Do you have any Kleenex in your purse?”
“John, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. You have to double-bag-and-seal your body parts, at least! Here.”
“I know, I know. I’m a fuck-up.”
“I didn’t say it.”
“You were thinking it.”
“You know, your father and I got one of those vacuum sealers thingies they show on the infomercials. We can seal up whole arms now with no leaks! They’re so handy, and such a good deal.”
“Mom, you know the markup on all those infomercial products is astonomical. I can go online and find them for way cheaper.”
“Well, maybe you should get yourself one then, and your packages wouldn’t be leaking blood all over the post office.”
“What do you think he does with all of them, anyway?”
“The prophet works in mysterious ways. I’m sure whatever he’s doing with them, it’s helping to bring Cthulhu closer to us.”
“I bet he puts most of them in the incinerator.”
“John!”
“Well think about it, Mom. Hundreds of people send in sacrifices for Black Christmas each year. He’d have to be holding rituals 24/7 just to keep up.”
“Maybe he freezes some of them for later in the year.”
“Ugh, whatever.”
“Did you get anyone off the Dark Reverend’s list?”
“Actually, yeah!”
“Oh! There were only three in the area who were on the list this year! Did you get Angela Cordette? Nathan Fortham?”
“No, I got [insert your name here].”
“Son. I am so proud of you.”
14 Mar 2019
Today’s prompt: “Waiting”
Waiting for death sounds like something you’d ascribe either to the residents of a nursing home or to an emo kid who’s listened to his Smiths albums a few too many times in a row. But it also applies to you. Death can’t come soon enough for you. Of course, that’s what happens when your method of death a) has already begun, and b) is “being devoured alive by maggots.”
13 Mar 2019
Today’s prompt: “The cleaning lady”
Forensic cleanup, or biohazard remediation, is a whole cottage industry within the cleaning profession, a whole other animal from your average maid service. It’s often called crime scene cleanup, but it encompasses more than that – suicides, major accidents, disease contamination (remember the ebola outbreak?), and bodily decomposition following a natural death that was undiscovered for a while.
The men and women who work in this industry have seen some shit. But the woman who came to clean up after you was not prepared for what she found.
Your blood went halfway up the wall on three walls of the room she found you in. The room she found most of you in, I mean. Fingers, toes, entrails and teeth had been spread to every room in the house.
Beside your ribcage was a crumpled piece of paper. Against her better judgment, the cleaning woman opened it up to read it. It looks a little like a page from a lab notebook, but most of the entry was scribbled out. She could just make out a few phrases: ‘dilation increase of ~22” in diameter’ and ‘portal estimated 45% open.’ And then at the bottom, amidst a number of scribbles, there’s a word that looks like “R’lyeh.”
12 Mar 2019
Today’s prompt: “Write the copy for a cereal box so that someone would actually want to buy this exciting new flavor.”
Cthuhu-Os has a flavor to kill for! Cultists love it, the Old Ones crave it! A single serving of Cthuhu-Os gives you all the energy you need to start the day with murder and mayhem! Cthuhu gives it two tentacles up!
Cthuhu-Os! Wash it down with the blood of the innocent!
[You die when a follower of the Cult of the Bloody Tongue decides to use you to follow the package directions.]