Story time thread 2.0

@torunn said
All's well that ends well...

It was a short life...but hey, sometimes that happens eh?

@great-big-stees said
It was a short life...but hey, sometimes that happens eh?

It was, but happy end maybe?

@torunn said
It was, but happy end maybe?

I think, and it's just my opinion, it was anticlimactic and abrupt.

@great-big-stees said
I think, and it's just my opinion, it was anticlimactic and abrupt.

It was, if you write another sentence maybe I can catch on?

@great-big-stees said
It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful bu ...[text shortened]... s "incarceration" he'd dated a MacTavish lass but he remembered her as having auburn hair not blond.

It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful but gratitude was not what he felt at that moment. Instead, Eric - his eyes darting back and forth, had enough sense to realize that it was better to wait until he was outside the institution, before he decided what to do next. What he did feel was a sense of relief and a love of his dear sister, because of all of his family, she alone had stood by him through thick and thin, which, the thin part, he now looked. He knew he had to stop using meth by now but he thought maybe it was too late. But it was all too late; too late to get clean and too late to come clean about the freezer in mother’s basement, the contents of which gave him a chill thrill as he paced through the familiar white corridors.

Eric thought,"I knew, when I stuffed them in it, that it was a mistake but not having the time to come up with better idea it seemed the best choice, given the circumstances". Of course due to being in an institution he was unable to pay his electricity bill, he could not believe what he saw when he entered the basement. The horrifying contents of the freezer had completely defrosted, the air ripe with the smell of melted popsicles and premature death. Eric always hated defrosting the freezer and finding people he didn't even recognize. But what a striking young lass he feasted his eyes upon. She was wearing the MacTavish tartan and he racked his brain to put a name to her because at one point, before his "incarceration" he'd dated a MacTavish lass but he remembered her as having auburn hair not blond.

"Eric," whispered an unfamiliar voice.

@ghost-of-a-duke said
It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful bu ...[text shortened]... ass but he remembered her as having auburn hair not blond.

"Eric," whispered an unfamiliar voice.

It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful but gratitude was not what he felt at that moment. Instead, Eric - his eyes darting back and forth, had enough sense to realize that it was better to wait until he was outside the institution, before he decided what to do next. What he did feel was a sense of relief and a love of his dear sister, because of all of his family, she alone had stood by him through thick and thin, which, the thin part, he now looked. He knew he had to stop using meth by now but he thought maybe it was too late. But it was all too late; too late to get clean and too late to come clean about the freezer in mother’s basement, the contents of which gave him a chill thrill as he paced through the familiar white corridors.

Eric thought,"I knew, when I stuffed them in it, that it was a mistake but not having the time to come up with better idea it seemed the best choice, given the circumstances". Of course due to being in an institution he was unable to pay his electricity bill, he could not believe what he saw when he entered the basement. The horrifying contents of the freezer had completely defrosted, the air ripe with the smell of melted popsicles and premature death. Eric always hated defrosting the freezer and finding people he didn't even recognize. But what a striking young lass he feasted his eyes upon. She was wearing the MacTavish tartan and he racked his brain to put a name to her because at one point, before his "incarceration" he'd dated a MacTavish lass but he remembered her as having auburn hair not blond.

"Eric," whispered an unfamiliar voice. The voice came out of nowhere, there was in fact no other living thing in the room but himself.

It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful but gratitude was not what he felt at that moment. Instead, Eric - his eyes darting back and forth, had enough sense to realize that it was better to wait until he was outside the institution, before he decided what to do next. What he did feel was a sense of relief and a love of his dear sister, because of all of his family, she alone had stood by him through thick and thin, which, the thin part, he now looked. He knew he had to stop using meth by now but he thought maybe it was too late. But it was all too late; too late to get clean and too late to come clean about the freezer in mother’s basement, the contents of which gave him a chill thrill as he paced through the familiar white corridors.

Eric thought,"I knew, when I stuffed them in it, that it was a mistake but not having the time to come up with better idea it seemed the best choice, given the circumstances". Of course due to being in an institution he was unable to pay his electricity bill, he could not believe what he saw when he entered the basement. The horrifying contents of the freezer had completely defrosted, the air ripe with the smell of melted popsicles and premature death. Eric always hated defrosting the freezer and finding people he didn't even recognize. But what a striking young lass he feasted his eyes upon. She was wearing the MacTavish tartan and he racked his brain to put a name to her because at one point, before his "incarceration" he'd dated a MacTavish lass but he remembered her as having auburn hair not blond.

"Eric," whispered an unfamiliar voice. The voice came out of nowhere, there was in fact no other living thing in the room but himself. He shook his head and waited to see if he'd just thought he'd heard the voice.

@great-big-stees said
It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful bu ...[text shortened]... the room but himself. He shook his head and waited to see if he'd just thought he'd heard the voice.

It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful but gratitude was not what he felt at that moment. Instead, Eric - his eyes darting back and forth, had enough sense to realize that it was better to wait until he was outside the institution, before he decided what to do next. What he did feel was a sense of relief and a love of his dear sister, because of all of his family, she alone had stood by him through thick and thin, which, the thin part, he now looked. He knew he had to stop using meth by now but he thought maybe it was too late. But it was all too late; too late to get clean and too late to come clean about the freezer in mother’s basement, the contents of which gave him a chill thrill as he paced through the familiar white corridors.

Eric thought,"I knew, when I stuffed them in it, that it was a mistake but not having the time to come up with better idea it seemed the best choice, given the circumstances". Of course due to being in an institution he was unable to pay his electricity bill, he could not believe what he saw when he entered the basement. The horrifying contents of the freezer had completely defrosted, the air ripe with the smell of melted popsicles and premature death. Eric always hated defrosting the freezer and finding people he didn't even recognize. But what a striking young lass he feasted his eyes upon. She was wearing the MacTavish tartan and he racked his brain to put a name to her because at one point, before his "incarceration" he'd dated a MacTavish lass but he remembered her as having auburn hair not blond.

"Eric," whispered an unfamiliar voice. The voice came out of nowhere, there was in fact no other living thing in the room but himself. He shook his head and waited to see if he'd just thought he'd heard the voice. "Eric," it repeated softly, "look what you've done."

@ghost-of-a-duke said
It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful bu ...[text shortened]... see if he'd just thought he'd heard the voice. "Eric," it repeated softly, "look what you've done."

It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful but gratitude was not what he felt at that moment. Instead, Eric - his eyes darting back and forth, had enough sense to realize that it was better to wait until he was outside the institution, before he decided what to do next. What he did feel was a sense of relief and a love of his dear sister, because of all of his family, she alone had stood by him through thick and thin, which, the thin part, he now looked. He knew he had to stop using meth by now but he thought maybe it was too late. But it was all too late; too late to get clean and too late to come clean about the freezer in mother’s basement, the contents of which gave him a chill thrill as he paced through the familiar white corridors.

Eric thought,"I knew, when I stuffed them in it, that it was a mistake but not having the time to come up with better idea it seemed the best choice, given the circumstances". Of course due to being in an institution he was unable to pay his electricity bill, he could not believe what he saw when he entered the basement. The horrifying contents of the freezer had completely defrosted, the air ripe with the smell of melted popsicles and premature death. Eric always hated defrosting the freezer and finding people he didn't even recognize. But what a striking young lass he feasted his eyes upon. She was wearing the MacTavish tartan and he racked his brain to put a name to her because at one point, before his "incarceration" he'd dated a MacTavish lass but he remembered her as having auburn hair not blond.

"Eric," whispered an unfamiliar voice. The voice came out of nowhere, there was in fact no other living thing in the room but himself. He shook his head and waited to see if he'd just thought he'd heard the voice. "Eric," it repeated softly, "look what you've done."

(The writer of the story takes a break. So unlike anything else he has written, it seems to have a life of its own and he is getting confused. Where is it heading?)

It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful but gratitude was not what he felt at that moment. Instead, Eric - his eyes darting back and forth, had enough sense to realize that it was better to wait until he was outside the institution, before he decided what to do next. What he did feel was a sense of relief and a love of his dear sister, because of all of his family, she alone had stood by him through thick and thin, which, the thin part, he now looked. He knew he had to stop using meth by now but he thought maybe it was too late. But it was all too late; too late to get clean and too late to come clean about the freezer in mother’s basement, the contents of which gave him a chill thrill as he paced through the familiar white corridors.

Eric thought,"I knew, when I stuffed them in it, that it was a mistake but not having the time to come up with better idea it seemed the best choice, given the circumstances". Of course due to being in an institution he was unable to pay his electricity bill, he could not believe what he saw when he entered the basement. The horrifying contents of the freezer had completely defrosted, the air ripe with the smell of melted popsicles and premature death. Eric always hated defrosting the freezer and finding people he didn't even recognize. But what a striking young lass he feasted his eyes upon. She was wearing the MacTavish tartan and he racked his brain to put a name to her because at one point, before his "incarceration" he'd dated a MacTavish lass but he remembered her as having auburn hair not blond.

"Eric," whispered an unfamiliar voice. The voice came out of nowhere, there was in fact no other living thing in the room but himself. He shook his head and waited to see if he'd just thought he'd heard the voice. "Eric," it repeated softly, "look what you've done."

(The writer of the story takes a break. So unlike anything else he has written, it seems to have a life of its own and he is getting confused. Where is it heading?) So he goes back to see what has transpired, noting now, that the voice has become more than just a voice and now there appears to be a head attached to it and that head was peeking around the corner of the room.

@Great-Big-Stees

The voice whispered something but Eric could not understand what was being said. Eric then heard the voice again but this time it was a little louder, only, he still could not understand what the voice was telling him. Finally Eric heard the voice say, "Make America great again!" and instantly Eric remembered how the body had gotten there and why he had killed them. His Trump derangement syndrome kicked in once more as he grabbed a knife and began maliciously assaulting the lifeless bodies one last time. For a solid hour Eric engaged in an orgy of violence until he heard the phone ring. It was Bernie Sanders asking him for another campaign contribution.

It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful but gratitude was not what he felt at that moment. Instead, Eric - his eyes darting back and forth, had enough sense to realize that it was better to wait until he was outside the institution, before he decided what to do next. What he did feel was a sense of relief and a love of his dear sister, because of all of his family, she alone had stood by him through thick and thin, which, the thin part, he now looked. He knew he had to stop using meth by now but he thought maybe it was too late. But it was all too late; too late to get clean and too late to come clean about the freezer in mother’s basement, the contents of which gave him a chill thrill as he paced through the familiar white corridors.

Eric thought,"I knew, when I stuffed them in it, that it was a mistake but not having the time to come up with better idea it seemed the best choice, given the circumstances". Of course due to being in an institution he was unable to pay his electricity bill, he could not believe what he saw when he entered the basement. The horrifying contents of the freezer had completely defrosted, the air ripe with the smell of melted popsicles and premature death. Eric always hated defrosting the freezer and finding people he didn't even recognize. But what a striking young lass he feasted his eyes upon. She was wearing the MacTavish tartan and he racked his brain to put a name to her because at one point, before his "incarceration" he'd dated a MacTavish lass but he remembered her as having auburn hair not blond.

"Eric," whispered an unfamiliar voice. The voice came out of nowhere, there was in fact no other living thing in the room but himself. He shook his head and waited to see if he'd just thought he'd heard the voice. "Eric," it repeated softly, "look what you've done."

(The writer of the story takes a break. So unlike anything else he has written, it seems to have a life of its own and he is getting confused. Where is it heading?) So he goes back to see what has transpired, noting now, that the voice has become more than just a voice and now there appears to be a head attached to it and that head was peeking around the corner of the room. The voice whispered something but Eric could not understand what was being said. Eric then heard the voice again but this time it was a little louder, only, he still could not understand what the voice was telling him. Finally Eric heard the voice say, "Make America great again!" and instantly Eric remembered how the body had gotten there and why he had killed them. His Trump derangement syndrome kicked in once more as he grabbed a knife and began maliciously assaulting the lifeless bodies one last time. For a solid hour Eric engaged in an orgy of violence until he heard the phone ring. It was Bernie Sanders asking him for another campaign contribution. Eric laughed, a laugh that caused even him to stop and question where it had come from.

@great-big-stees said
It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful bu ...[text shortened]... ontribution. Eric laughed, a laugh that caused even him to stop and question where it had come from.

It was a 46-year-old Eric who was finally released from the asylum, all his worldly possessions contained in a small yellow suitcase. Meeting him at the gate his sister Minerva, whisked him off. - Minerva had brought a change of clothes for Eric, along with a razor, as they had not allowed him to shave whilst being "helped" at the institution. He should be grateful but gratitude was not what he felt at that moment. Instead, Eric - his eyes darting back and forth, had enough sense to realize that it was better to wait until he was outside the institution, before he decided what to do next. What he did feel was a sense of relief and a love of his dear sister, because of all of his family, she alone had stood by him through thick and thin, which, the thin part, he now looked. He knew he had to stop using meth by now but he thought maybe it was too late. But it was all too late; too late to get clean and too late to come clean about the freezer in mother’s basement, the contents of which gave him a chill thrill as he paced through the familiar white corridors.

Eric thought,"I knew, when I stuffed them in it, that it was a mistake but not having the time to come up with better idea it seemed the best choice, given the circumstances". Of course due to being in an institution he was unable to pay his electricity bill, he could not believe what he saw when he entered the basement. The horrifying contents of the freezer had completely defrosted, the air ripe with the smell of melted popsicles and premature death. Eric always hated defrosting the freezer and finding people he didn't even recognize. But what a striking young lass he feasted his eyes upon. She was wearing the MacTavish tartan and he racked his brain to put a name to her because at one point, before his "incarceration" he'd dated a MacTavish lass but he remembered her as having auburn hair not blond.

"Eric," whispered an unfamiliar voice. The voice came out of nowhere, there was in fact no other living thing in the room but himself. He shook his head and waited to see if he'd just thought he'd heard the voice. "Eric," it repeated softly, "look what you've done."

(The writer of the story takes a break. So unlike anything else he has written, it seems to have a life of its own and he is getting confused. Where is it heading?) So he goes back to see what has transpired, noting now, that the voice has become more than just a voice and now there appears to be a head attached to it and that head was peeking around the corner of the room. The voice whispered something but Eric could not understand what was being said. Eric then heard the voice again but this time it was a little louder, only, he still could not understand what the voice was telling him. Finally Eric heard the voice say, "Make America great again!" and instantly Eric remembered how the body had gotten there and why he had killed them. His Trump derangement syndrome kicked in once more as he grabbed a knife and began maliciously assaulting the lifeless bodies one last time. For a solid hour Eric engaged in an orgy of violence until he heard the phone ring. It was Bernie Sanders asking him for another campaign contribution. Eric laughed, a laugh that caused even him to stop and question where it had come from. Now, voices can be harsh and unpleasant or soft and loving - let's assume, for the sake of a good story, that this was a soft voice.