Dreams of the DeepPaul's whole world was spinning. The Proxitol made it incredibly difficult for him to think clearly. Maya? Yes, her name was Maya. She had told him it would only be a few days, that the thing inside would dissolve. She'd been wrong, and she'd been surprised that she'd been wrong, not that it mattered. Resting his head against the cool porcelain of the toilet in the cell he called a room, PaulDreams of the Deep1 year ago in Writing More Like This
could almost laugh about how this all seemed like some ridiculous dream. But the pain, the disorientation, and the feeling of...something inside...assured him it was anything but.
The growth had started spreading again, but it was different this time. The iridescent scales had formed
patches around his hips, wrapped around his waist, and then branched out into two separate lines that
ran up and gathered around his shoulder blades, sprouting opaque sacs.
That night he dreamed of an ocean, somewhere far, far away. Something large and shapeless, sparkling like a star-covered
Man's Best FriendPaul shook the ashes off his eyelids as his unfinished cigarette hit the leg of the woman in the short skirt.Man's Best Friend1 year ago in Writing More Like This
“Sorry.” Paul waved his hand apologetically. The woman scurried away angrily, muttering the word ‘pervert’.
He got his key out and entered the small, claustrophobia-inducing space the manager called a room.
It’s been five days since Paul and Tal'shen escaped from Maya and her goons. All the Proxitol has left his system and he has never felt stronger. Amazed at how well he was handling ‘the situation’, Paul rationalized the nightmare by comparing it to an unthinkable disease like cancer. Once you’re dealt with it, you have no choice but to go through the whole ordeal if you want to survive, and they both wanted badly to survive.
The upside is- although the alien was maturing mentally at a rapid pace, at least, it could shrink its tentacles down to a size small enough to be hidden under his jacket.
“No offense, Tal’shen.
Lunacy UnfurledLunacy Unfurled by Tim Marquitz (firstname.lastname@example.org)Lunacy Unfurled1 year ago in Writing More Like This
Paul's stomach lurched. As if having a strange man's face in his lap wasn't enough to ruin the day, he had to contend with puke, too?
He wiped at it without thinking. The spew came away with a swipe. It was warm and moist and oozed along his fingers to pool in his palm. Tingles crept down his arm, a millipede of sensation setting the hairs to standing at the realization of what he'd done. He went to shake the vomit from his hand when a choir of whispers cluttered his head. Paul froze at the sound, his eyes drawn to the tiny starbursts that erupted across the yellowish bile. A word cleaved through the din:
He felt its weight, as though a wave crashed over top of him. The sound reverberated inside his skull, and he watched the dance of lights at his palm. A sense of familiaritya kinship, of sortsoverwhelmed him, clarity overtaking the seemingly random flickers. Rhythm coalesced across the lucent spots, something deep ins
THE STAINPaul had just arrived at the Hotel, his first of many stops in London to meet up with Business personnel. He had on his best 3 piece suit that was handed down from his great Great Grandfather. Paul had just discovered that the man that had the seizure on the train vomited on Paul's pants.... It wasn't really vomit, it looked as if Paul had gone to the restroom and leaked through his pants. The stain was about the size of a half dollar.THE STAIN1 year ago in Writing More Like This
Paul looked at his watch, he had 3 hours before his meeting, just long enough to clean his pants and get a bite to eat.
Paul called room service. Before he even heard a dial tone he heard a woman's voice saying thank you for calling room service at the Ritz, how can I help you. Paul asked what the special of the day was. The woman at customer service said, you sound American. Paul said yes I am, I'm from Denver, Colorado. Room Service responded
Strange Bites, Stranger Dreams"Doesn't that just take the biscuit?" Paul stripped his trousers off in the miniscule, private bathroom with a look of disgust and stuck them in the sink. He thought about the vomit stain again and shuddered. Paul quickly removed the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower. He turned on the water, willing to endure the cold just to wash away the creepy, skin-crawling sensation he was feeling.Strange Bites, Stranger Dreams1 year ago in Writing More Like This
As the water warmed, Paul's agitation began to fade. He picked up the soap and began to wash. "Ow!" he exclaimed as he ran the washcloth across his thigh. "Something must've bit me," he thought as he prodded at the slight swelling that marked the tender area. Paul finished his washing and stepped out of the shower to towel off. He patted the tender spot dry and then turned his attention to his trousers in the sink.
Paul pulled his belt out of the loops and emptied his pockets into his backpack. A few minutes work with cold water and a piece of bar soap reduced the stain to a very faint out
Chapter 1: Shout It OutChapter 1: Shout ItChapter 1: Shout It Out1 year ago in Writing More Like This
Pulling his trousers out of the washer for the third time,
Paul sighed with defeat at the sight of the spot. It was just vomit. How could
it withstand the pummeling of his landladyâs front-loader? He had picked up a
bottle of stain remover â" one whose catch phrase was seared into his brain as a
youth, a sign of misspent Saturdays. He had liked the idea that you could banish
a stain with your voice, if you could just muster enough anger. Staring at the
failed promise on the bottle, he screamed into the fabric,
âGO AWAY YOU GINGER FUCK.â
When Paul had first seen the spot, he thought it was a bit
of escaped hair dye. With a bit of foundation to dampen the freckles, he could be
anyone. He had tried blonde once, but the red had a way of breaking through,
leading to disturbing descriptors involving strawberries. So brown it was. He
had developed a mild paranoia ab
Chapter OnePaul changed quickly, exchanging one dark gray pant for another. Even after he had disposed of the offending garment, the smell hung in his nose. A slight acidic burn, tickling the edge of his consciousness.Chapter One1 year ago in Writing More Like This
He wanted to suck in the night. Dispel the lingering airs of vomit that tailed him. Paul wandered the streets of London. Familiar, but changed over the years. He smiled wryly, a grin wrought with memories.
Familiar but changed.
Paul paused before a street performer. One of many that dotted London, creating splashes of color.
A woman, dancing.
Glowing of youth.
Leaking it out of her skin.
She was alone, without the crowd that surrounded others of her trade. Paul couldn't help watching. It was an unconscious watching, and once trapped, he couldn't look away. The woman had a disconcerting ethereal beauty. Swathed in riotous colorful cloths, swaying her hips hypnotically. Every so often, skin flashed, reflecting the lights that seemed to glow off her c
Chapter I: Maybe, it's a karma thingPaul wished he had something else to change into. But, since the trousers were irreplaceable at the moment, a lot of water and a bar of hotel soap would have to do. After much effort, the stain was gone in all but spirit, but it was the spirit that made the clothes feel dirty, ruined somehow. London had given Paul a sign, and not a hopeful one; ever since he walked away from a subway a feeling of unease had clung to his mind (but then, bad is how you feel when you're fucking useless).Chapter I: Maybe, it's a karma thing1 year ago in Writing More Like This
Still, Paul's appointment was an hour away, the stain was gone and maybe, just maybe, the situation was a karma thing – stumble into shit in the morning, pay the price, then your luck turns around. But that moment of optimism didn't last: rather, drown in shit for ten years and life still doesn't owe you a pony.
Paul thought it best not to tempt destiny, hour or not. The offices were ten blocks away, straight ahead, no chance of getting lost. Besides, some small, naive part of him wanted to see if