2 weeks a Mini Story (Vince winner, get ready for next round!)

[InCreator]

Ahmed looked down. The base looked busy as usual, with two soliders chatting near entrance and humvee taking it's usual sentry route.
With shaking hands, he loaded his RPG-7 and lifted it onto shoulder.
He waited  $80000 hellifire missile to strike any second and rip him apart.
Nothing happened.
He aimed down and pulled trigger.

__

FSI, eww!

[Shane 'ProgZmax' Stevens]

   Once again I found myself at the ass-end of a checkout line while the stinking masses ahead shambled along with their carts, and the cashier's dazed expression seemed to seal the guarantee that this was going to take awhile.  I've only got a box of cereal and my loaded shotgun, for God's sake.  Fucking zombies!

[Akatosh]

The sound of gunshots, while still audible, was getting distant, fading away. Another National Holiday, another overthrow attempt thwarted by the military. Peace and stability were restored, as the official reports called it.

“Time to get back to work”, El Presidente thought, then started signing the death sentences for the survivors of today’s failed revolution.

I have to stop playing Tropico on 'Hard'.

[Azaron]

Illa'an's heart fell as he looked out over his troops. Their faces were as dark and forboding as the sky over the mountains, and he knew that many of them would never see home again. As he drew his sword to signal the advance up the mountain, he regretted his reign had come to this.

[MoodyBlues]

"What'd you do?" John shouted into his brother's face.  “What the hell did you do, Chris?”  He tried to shake an answer from him.  Calmly, Chris stared at the pale boy who lay beneath the tire swing, screaming for someone to stop the bleeding.

John looked away.  “I told you it was loaded.”

Chris nodded.

[jetxl]

She staggers out of the nightclub with her girlfriends. She is dressed well, but the drunk giggle and curly straw behind her ear makes her look easy.
"Hey, I know you!" she yells at a guy. Direct hit, cupid. Morning after pills in her purse.
We walk on. They will never know what we have.

[FSi++]

A little documentary from IRC. (a bit of patched, but everybody agreed that it's ok)

Hive Mind at Work
FSi: also: thread about wintermute? what the fuck.
bicilotti: yeah
bicilotti: it is like telling your girlfriend: "your friend’s boobs are GORGEOUS!"
FSi: *your sister's
spleen: *your daughter's.
FSi: *your brother's
bicilotti: well, much better
spleen: *your dad's.
FSi: I meant your YOUNGER brother
bicilotti: fifty five words
bicilotti:
FSi: ok, fifty five now.

[paolo]

Paolo reflected on what he could write. Some of the entries posted so far were little more than descriptions. Surely they should all have a plot with a beginning, middle and end? "I can do better than that," he thought. His Muse did her work. Satisfied with his effort, he posted it to the forum.

[InCreator]

Indrek looked at the thread. It was quite long already, and some good stories were there.
First time in his life, he had tried writing.
It felt good.
"For my fourth story, I shall write about..."
He focused on his creative part of brain...
"Boobies..."
The signature of jetxl had totally blocked his attempt.
____

Chris looked from window down to Hollywell Road. Two-story buildings looked quite peaceful, there was no one moving. Slowly, carefully, he locked room door. Then walked to a window and closed curtains.
He stood and listened. The house was quiet, with everyone sleeping.
"Time to finally make this game."
He sat and started Wintermute.

[LGM]

I stayed up past my bedtime to hear her let go her every apprehension. In me there was a longing. I couldn't hold her and tell her it was going to be ok. Instead I could only sit in front of a white computer screen, hoping that she would hold the strength to keep writing.

[Dualnames]

The writer picked up his old rusty pen. Yeah, we're talking about a really old pen. Ever seen your pen get rusty? He would go to the market and buy one, but then he would betray his beliefs..Ok, he was poor. So he started writing ,but the pen had no ink. The end.

[LimpingFish]

The barking of dogs.

McKenna paused, his hand resting on the handle of the open window. He leaned into the night air.

The darkness below was absolute, swallowing the pale light from the room above.

Nothing moved.

The distant barking trailed away to silence.

He pulled the window closed, and wiped the handle clean.

55 words.

[PixelPerfect]

Accident

If I could take it all back, I would. That night ended in a crash.
At the hospital my friends saw how depressed I was. "It is going to be okay", they said.
I knew it wasn't. My whole life was over.
I was going to be a father.

[PixelPerfect]

Hesitation

I never hesitated when they commanded. I saw too many times what happened when you disobeyed orders. One man was beaten to a bloody pulp and then shot to the groin. He was alive two hours after. They gave us towels and some soap to get cleaned. Inside I knew this time I should have hesitated.

[Jon]

Anger

!£$&^%*&^*^&*%& son of a*(*^%$$£@}@:}!"$%ham sandwich%$&??$%&ROFL**&^&*^*$%^${I(@?*()?***!
"Note to self" Bob grimaced, "Fire hot"

[Darth Mandarb]

Called from the front, I find myself pointing a gun at the captured British spy.  As a Nazi it's my duty to kill him but I can't pull the trigger.  He's my childhood friend.  My hand trembles.  Sweat drips from my brow.  I grew up in England? How did I get here? The confusion grows...

[monkey0506]

Anger

!£$&^%*&^*^&*%& son of a*(*^%$$£@}@:}!"$%ham sandwich%$&??$%&ROFL**&^&*^*$%^${I(@?*()?***!
"Note to self" Bob grimaced, "Fire hot"

Sorry Jon, but I'm counting 57 words here (excluding title of course).

Also, I wanted an excuse to post saying that I've written several entries, I've just compiled them all into my original post. Apparently this was it.

[DoorKnobHandle]

'What? You've... got to be joking.'
He smiled. 'I just love it when they say that.'
He waved his hand. They brought in a guy, tied to a chair, a cloth over his face.
His smile vanished. 'When you entered the program, you swore to do everything. Now kill him!'
I hesitated. I shot.

55 words exactly. Yes, I watched The Bourne Ultimatum.

[Vince Twelve]

The priest spoke.  The mourners cried.  The gravedigger lowered the body.

As the last shovelful of dirt fell upon the shallow grave, the priest, the mourners, and the gravedigger -- at this funeral, all one man -- looked nervously around the woods.  He headed off into the darkness to wash the dirt and blood from his hands.

-----------

Why are these all so morose? 

[Andail]

He pushed the door open and dashed across the small bedroom, finding no time to check the interior â€" the slightly provisional, almost rudimentary set of furniture, a mishmash of leftover items, accumulated desultorily over decades and decades. He would have noticed how it was just like in his dreams.
How there'd be rooms within rooms.