[Fiction Practice] The Poor Guy

“The poor guy.”
The park was lively, except for the grim area the two women were approaching. “Yeah, it’s still a shocker two months later. What a pillar to the community. It’s too bad they weren’t able to clean up all the blood. How long were they trying? At least a couple weeks?” They arrived at the tree. The nearby concrete was still stained with blood.
A sudden rattling.
“They can’t clean up my blood!”

WANNA HEAR IF THESE INTREPID TWO COULD CLEAN UP THE BLOOD? CLICK HERE TO KEEP ON READING!

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[Fiction Practice] “Forgot The Trash!”

“Ahhh!” The alarm sounded just before the killer struck. “Oops! Forgot to take out the trash. Better get to it now. I’ll run out of time again in the morning…” She paused the movie on a disturbing still, dragged the trash can to the door, put on a heavy coat and boots, placed her keys and mace in her right coat pocket, grabbed the trash bag with her left hand, and left her comfortable apartment.

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[Fiction Practice] Detective Peaceknife’s Case

That blue slime ball was too close for comfort! How I, retiring Detective Peaceknife, got into another para-predicament like this, with this overwhelming mind-controlling beast, was beyond me. It all started with some dame walking into my office, dropping off a case to find her missing husband, and some glasses. “You’ll need these to see them.” Well, babe, I don’t need these things to see the acidic vapors eating away the concrete at my feet.


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[Fiction Practice] Crimedog Motorbike Casino

Was it a knock that had woken her? She’d been out cold since we got the report. Even after security moved her to the backroom. Sunglasses, scarves; covered in black clothing. How she ended up in that condition, here at the Crimedog Motorbike Casino, was strange. Stranger still was what people said about the scuffle… apparently over something big. The strangest of all that was what happened after she had woken in the interrogation room.


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[Fiction Practice] Surmountable Mind Vault

“We three have arrived. Over.” The young adventurer’s voice echoed throughout the cavernous steel room, lit only by an older adventurer’s cigar ember, with perhaps a large eye before them. “Good… …and follow this… Three, five… brown… press the small button. Over.” The third adventurer was aloof; stretching. “Gabonnet! I didn’t catch that! Please repeat. Over!” The smoke wafted over along with the voice. “Don’t worry about that, kid. We-” Bright lights illuminated the room.

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[Fiction Practice] Didn’t Waste Time! [Maturity: +18]

Your choices are going to affect how this game progresses.” Zombies with words floating above their heads remained stationary, videogame logic soaked into reality, and the almost-digital narrator continued. “This is the tutorial level in Keyboard Kommander so you have room to practice. Go ahead and type in the letters above that zombie’s head to kill it.” The mostly acclimatized farmer adjusted the odd weapon. “Alright, stranger, let’s kick some-“

Maturity Warning: Read With Caution
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[Fiction Practice] Kajas Talk Show

“It’s the Kajas Talk Show with special guest: The Orthographimancer!” The camera panned over the bustling audience, all wearing glowing green control collars, to the gray stage. Between a slightly crazed host sitting behind a keyboard-esque desk on one side, and two security guards standing on the other, sat a woman in a little dress of red leather confident in her domination of the world.  “S-so, The Kapital wants to know; why’d you do it?”

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