Not knowing if they would make it in time was torment.
“She’s running out of oxygen in there.” She exclaimed, digging faster. She would not kill Abigail. She should have found a spell that provided oxygen.
They were torturing Abigail, and what had she even done? Been there for her when she needed her the most? And sure, Willow was mad Abigail dated her ex, but in truth- they hadn’t even dated and this was pure pettiness.
Willow then decided she wouldn’t tell her brother that it was fuel to the fire at all. She didn’t need the inevitable lecture.
___
The story has developed sudden backstory. I can't wait until I'm done, compile it all in one post, and see how silly the whole thing turned out to be.
Gordon was lying in his racecar bed, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on his drop ceiling, unable to move. He heard scratching up there. The dappled square of ceiling tile above him was slowly moved aside by three hands the color of wet cement. Gordon stared into that square of black void, terrified. Something inside moved. Gordon screamed.
(Torment 100 words)
Laura’s eyes sprang open and she shot out of bed like a pinball, bouncing off her door frame as she staggered into the dark.
“Gourd? Gourdy, what’s wrong?”
The screams were primal and scary, like a trapped rabbit. Laura blindly flicked at the hall light to no avail. She stumbled down the endless hall toward her son’s room. Just before she reached the door, the screaming stopped abruptly. She burst in and rushed to her son’s bed. It was warm and damp with sweat and completely empty. She frantically searched the surrounding void, then Gordon began to scream from elsewhere.
Entity 90 words
Laura screamed into the dark and searched the infinite versions of her son’s room, every bed warm and empty. She cried in the dark endless hall, “Gordon! Where are you!” and her voice was swallowed by the blackness. After an eternity, with insides were scooped out and ragged, she collapsed onto the floor. When she opened her eyes, she was in a void without context, surrounded by nothing except a square window of dull light, sunken in the abyss far below her. The gray thing in the void watched her.
I woke, expecting peace. Then it happened. A screech, then a deep, rumbling growl that sent shivers down my spine. I whipped around, and there it was—a monster. Awakened from its slumber. Its eyes glowed with hate, a demon unleashed by my clueless human. Mouth wide, it devoured everything in sight, merciless and indiscriminate. I think it was here to torment me. My crime? The glass I’d shattered last night.
I crept around. I launched to the high ground and pounced. It won’t be prepared for my ambush! Then I heard the hooman yell, “Oy Sushi! Get off the vacuum!”
The myriad ways he had devised to inflict punishment on The Damned were legendary, and feared across the many realms of Hell.
But what none of his trembling victims ever knew, was that he used to be human, just like them.
And while what they endured at his command was brutal and severe, it was nothing compared to the anguish he felt, and the torment he had to live with every day.
As the memory of each of those souls that had stood before him became another voice in his head, screaming for eternity… 🔥😎🔥
Tyson tossed and turned in bed. His dreams were plagued with the sound of machine gun fire, screaming, groaning, and sobbing. Images of gun turrets butchering package handlers, bodies laid in a pool of blood -
their faces resembled a bloody plate of mashed potatoes. Tyson shot up out of bed screaming. Tears cascaded down his face, and sweat poured down his body; he shivered like he was in the Antarctic. Tyson looked at the space next to him; his chest ached and throbbed. ‘She couldn’t handle it anymore.’ Tyson wouldn’t have worked for Niles if he knew this would happen.
A guaranteed cure for tinnitus! How could I resist? They locked me into the soundproofed room and music began to play.
First a boy bellowing, "Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Meyer Weiner," followed by an infinite loop of other purile jingles advertising hamburgers, antacids, soda... more and faster and louder, until my head was ready to explode!
Suddenly, there was silence. COMPLETE silence. The tinnitus was gone!
Until I got home and my cat's greeting triggered the cats in my head, meowing their joy for cat chow. Then I realized I'd merely exchanged one torment for one much worse.
The smell was the prelude to the torment. Thick blue and white paint slung on bare brick walls. The uniform was still too big, Mum said I'd grow into it, but it's hard to do any growing here. Submitting daily to boys with more confidence. Barbarous words designed to maim. Show no reaction and get no attention. Easier said than done.
They'll see. Eventually. I used shout. That worked for a while. Then I punched. That helped. But nothing sticks. The torment remains. It's endless. Torturous. No one could survive this.
Tormenting shakes, aneurysms veins, possibly to burst. Bombs fall, unseen, drones, echo, incessant as bees, swarm in ears. Hours, days, months, years pass. There’s no relief. Dantes inferno bolgi , fifth column boots march, pound down doors. Wind howls in open mouth. Screams unheard. Ears cut off; suns glare, blinds, eyes, shutters, skin: melting snow covers the torrential torment of incessant reigns. Tolerance is gone. Migrants not accepted. Drowned bodies float in Mediterranean Sea. Famine lurks in corners. Pursued, plagued by rats. Flee with one arm, one leg in shopping carts pulled, pushed by starving dogs not eaten. Life begins a new.
“The torment! The years of regret. If only I could take it back. I was young. Just following orders. Killing you has haunted me. Every day of my life. Eaten away at me. Destroyed me. Some days I wish it was the other way around.”
Below ground Ricky had heard just about enough. He assumed his most fearful wraithlike form and arose. But he came not to strike but to scold. “Boo frickin’ hoo. The balls on you. I gotta listen to a version of this story where I’m not the victim?”
PROMPT: TORMENT
100 WORDS
Not knowing if they would make it in time was torment.
“She’s running out of oxygen in there.” She exclaimed, digging faster. She would not kill Abigail. She should have found a spell that provided oxygen.
They were torturing Abigail, and what had she even done? Been there for her when she needed her the most? And sure, Willow was mad Abigail dated her ex, but in truth- they hadn’t even dated and this was pure pettiness.
Willow then decided she wouldn’t tell her brother that it was fuel to the fire at all. She didn’t need the inevitable lecture.
___
The story has developed sudden backstory. I can't wait until I'm done, compile it all in one post, and see how silly the whole thing turned out to be.
3 Microdoses - 1 Story: “Drop Ceiling”
(Nightmare 60 words)
Gordon was lying in his racecar bed, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on his drop ceiling, unable to move. He heard scratching up there. The dappled square of ceiling tile above him was slowly moved aside by three hands the color of wet cement. Gordon stared into that square of black void, terrified. Something inside moved. Gordon screamed.
(Torment 100 words)
Laura’s eyes sprang open and she shot out of bed like a pinball, bouncing off her door frame as she staggered into the dark.
“Gourd? Gourdy, what’s wrong?”
The screams were primal and scary, like a trapped rabbit. Laura blindly flicked at the hall light to no avail. She stumbled down the endless hall toward her son’s room. Just before she reached the door, the screaming stopped abruptly. She burst in and rushed to her son’s bed. It was warm and damp with sweat and completely empty. She frantically searched the surrounding void, then Gordon began to scream from elsewhere.
Entity 90 words
Laura screamed into the dark and searched the infinite versions of her son’s room, every bed warm and empty. She cried in the dark endless hall, “Gordon! Where are you!” and her voice was swallowed by the blackness. After an eternity, with insides were scooped out and ragged, she collapsed onto the floor. When she opened her eyes, she was in a void without context, surrounded by nothing except a square window of dull light, sunken in the abyss far below her. The gray thing in the void watched her.
"Who's got less than 100 subs?" someone posted.
"FEWER" he muttered as he scrolled notes...
"Less than 100 days to Christmas" read the advert
"FEWER" he grunted at the TV
"10 items or less" the sign said at the checkout.
"FEWER!! he screamed in the supermarket. Nobody understood his torment.
I woke, expecting peace. Then it happened. A screech, then a deep, rumbling growl that sent shivers down my spine. I whipped around, and there it was—a monster. Awakened from its slumber. Its eyes glowed with hate, a demon unleashed by my clueless human. Mouth wide, it devoured everything in sight, merciless and indiscriminate. I think it was here to torment me. My crime? The glass I’d shattered last night.
I crept around. I launched to the high ground and pounced. It won’t be prepared for my ambush! Then I heard the hooman yell, “Oy Sushi! Get off the vacuum!”
true so true
Curse those vacuums!
PROMPT: TORMENT
THE ADMINISTRATOR
He was known as The Administrator.
The myriad ways he had devised to inflict punishment on The Damned were legendary, and feared across the many realms of Hell.
But what none of his trembling victims ever knew, was that he used to be human, just like them.
And while what they endured at his command was brutal and severe, it was nothing compared to the anguish he felt, and the torment he had to live with every day.
As the memory of each of those souls that had stood before him became another voice in his head, screaming for eternity… 🔥😎🔥
“Niles Express: Tormented”
Tyson tossed and turned in bed. His dreams were plagued with the sound of machine gun fire, screaming, groaning, and sobbing. Images of gun turrets butchering package handlers, bodies laid in a pool of blood -
their faces resembled a bloody plate of mashed potatoes. Tyson shot up out of bed screaming. Tears cascaded down his face, and sweat poured down his body; he shivered like he was in the Antarctic. Tyson looked at the space next to him; his chest ached and throbbed. ‘She couldn’t handle it anymore.’ Tyson wouldn’t have worked for Niles if he knew this would happen.
A guaranteed cure for tinnitus! How could I resist? They locked me into the soundproofed room and music began to play.
First a boy bellowing, "Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Meyer Weiner," followed by an infinite loop of other purile jingles advertising hamburgers, antacids, soda... more and faster and louder, until my head was ready to explode!
Suddenly, there was silence. COMPLETE silence. The tinnitus was gone!
Until I got home and my cat's greeting triggered the cats in my head, meowing their joy for cat chow. Then I realized I'd merely exchanged one torment for one much worse.
Microdosing - 100mg of a Torment
===
‘My last drink was 2 months ago.’
His therapist nodded, typing away on his tablet.
‘I haven’t been to the church. I haven’t paid a visit to that priest.’
The therapist typed: “Managed a personal grudge.”
‘I haven’t returned to the graveyard downtown.’
Added lines: “Controlled the klepto impulses, including body snatching.”
‘I haven’t been to the quarterly conference.’
The good doctor had one eyebrow lifted.
‘You know, the one where experts came down to present their latest…… techniques.’
The therapist nodded and asked: ‘What are you feeling now?’
The vampire leaned back to the couch and said: ‘Only torment.’
That’s a good one Olivia! I love it.
BRAND NEW DAY - 100MG OF A TORMENT
It took Steve 3 hours to finally climb through.
Using his outstretched arm and open hand, he savored the feeling of the cool crisp air.
Once he was completely out, he lay on the grassy bed just for a moment, staring up at the stars in the night sky.
It had been years, maybe decades since he last saw those shining stars, but the nostalgia quickly faded.
Memories flooded his mind, not of pleasant times, but of the torment he recently endured.
His stomach grumbled with a violent hunger for revenge.
Steve rose and slowly lumbered out of the cemetery.
Damn the last line caught me off guard! Well done Tony!
Torment
The smell was the prelude to the torment. Thick blue and white paint slung on bare brick walls. The uniform was still too big, Mum said I'd grow into it, but it's hard to do any growing here. Submitting daily to boys with more confidence. Barbarous words designed to maim. Show no reaction and get no attention. Easier said than done.
They'll see. Eventually. I used shout. That worked for a while. Then I punched. That helped. But nothing sticks. The torment remains. It's endless. Torturous. No one could survive this.
The Art of Leaving
_______________
Some of us learn early
that home is not a fixed point on any map,
but rather a skill we master
like learning to swim through torment.
.
We become experts at reading
the fine print of other people's faces,
at rolling up our sleeves
when the horizon dims.
.
The anger you feel now
is just a temporary lodger,
like the snake that sheds its skin
in the garden, leaving behind
what once brought pain.
.
Trust me when I say:
one morning you'll wake up lighter,
your bones filled with clarity
instead of grief, and you'll find
you've become a lighthouse
for others navigating
these same dark waters.
…
you are indeed a gifted poet - so much image, feeling, and so few words. The essence of the poet's art.
Thank you very much 💙
This is incredible. Fantastic work!
Thank you. 🙏
You just take my breath away Gloria. Thank you.
Miguel, I have been working on a longer poem and trying different words with swim. Torment is a perfect fit.
You always inspire me!
Tormenting shakes, aneurysms veins, possibly to burst. Bombs fall, unseen, drones, echo, incessant as bees, swarm in ears. Hours, days, months, years pass. There’s no relief. Dantes inferno bolgi , fifth column boots march, pound down doors. Wind howls in open mouth. Screams unheard. Ears cut off; suns glare, blinds, eyes, shutters, skin: melting snow covers the torrential torment of incessant reigns. Tolerance is gone. Migrants not accepted. Drowned bodies float in Mediterranean Sea. Famine lurks in corners. Pursued, plagued by rats. Flee with one arm, one leg in shopping carts pulled, pushed by starving dogs not eaten. Life begins a new.
Richard, how do you write so authentically original with every single word?!?
My mind boggles!
Must be the espresso coffee. Words came to me in a flash of light. Thanks for your boggling.
You are welcome.
Lino knelt at the grave, wept and wailed.
“The torment! The years of regret. If only I could take it back. I was young. Just following orders. Killing you has haunted me. Every day of my life. Eaten away at me. Destroyed me. Some days I wish it was the other way around.”
Below ground Ricky had heard just about enough. He assumed his most fearful wraithlike form and arose. But he came not to strike but to scold. “Boo frickin’ hoo. The balls on you. I gotta listen to a version of this story where I’m not the victim?”
Thank you Gloria. Can never go too far wrong with wise guys😊
So clever!!