Arising From the Subconscious
I was on an operating table. I didn’t know how I got there. I remembered laying on the beach next to my brother, but that wasn’t quite right. My brother was no…
It's the sort of easy-way-out end to a story that our English teachers told us to avoid using. And yet, just those 5 little words - those 5 little syllables - hold _so_ much creative power, because they grant the author access to the world of dreams. (As many _Inception_ fans will know: it's pure creation.) So therein lies this challenge: Write a story that ends around the basis of waking up from a dream/nightmare. But don't write something bland like: "I met Johnny Depp and the Dalai Lama, and we went to McDonald's, smoked some pot and had a cup of tea..._and then I woke up!_" Your story must be a dream situation that is either: - so fantastically awesome that you don't want to wake up from it OR - a nightmare so terrifying that you're thanking whatever God you believe in that you woke up from it. Remember: in the world of dreams, anything is possible. So write whatever your imagination (and Ficly's character limit) allows you to! *Non, je ne regrette rien...*
I was on an operating table. I didn’t know how I got there. I remembered laying on the beach next to my brother, but that wasn’t quite right. My brother was no…
I watched in helpless fear as I tried to escape the binds that held me tight. BANG! Another corpse fell over, as the executioner moved up the line. “LET ME…
“You are my sweetest downfall.” His words startled her and she looked up to see him standing in the doorway. “What does that even me?” she asked him, a smile…
I smiled, taking in the breeze deeply through my flared nostrils. Unfolding beneath my feet ran a cool creek, lazily making its way to the base of a tall stone…
The roar of the small engine plane is all you could hear as I looked down onto a miniature version of a small town Texas landscape. I then leaped with faith…
I had been running for days. I couldn’t remember the last time I showered, and then it hit me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had done anything. I didn’t…
The rain drummed on my skull and soaked through my hair, down my collar, along my spine in icy trails. It had been dry when I left the house. I hadn’t anywhere…
Her red lipstick glistened under the moonlight. “I love you so much Roberto,” she cooed. “My name is Joe,” I replied. She loosened her grip on my shirt, and…