Wednesday Prompt Smash: I could sleep forever

A/N: BOOM it's on time this week. Bet you didn't see that coming. As always Sasha writes cool stuff to, it's mandatory, go and read it now.


I could sleep forever
200 words

I think if pressed to answer, gun to my head. My one true love is sleep. I can’t get enough sleep, I have alarms set early in the morning so that I can groggily look at them, turn them off and drift back into the slumber I crave so much.

Some days life is hard to deal with, shit goes wrong, people are jerks. You know what never goes wrong? Sleep. You know what is never a jerk to you? You guessed it, sleep.

If people would let me, I truly think that I could sleep forever. Every time I try I keep waking up though. I go to sleep, I wake up. I go to sleep I wake up. Repeat ad nauseum.

Most days I wish that I wouldn’t wake up.

132 words (get over it)

Wednesday word prompt: My body wants to kill me

A/N: Another week, another post. It's late again this week. As always check out Sasha's writing because it's good. An on time.

My body wants to kill me
150 words

I went to the gym yesterday. Hey, stop that, don’t laugh. It’s true I really did. It was as horrible as I always imagined it would be. I was dragged there by Stefan, a stupid name for a stupid person.

Anyway, the gym. There were muscles and sweat everywhere. Bars, weights, and machines littered the room with little thought to form, function or the appropriate fung shei. Do you know what else? Mirrors. Every wall a damn mirror. Who wants to see themselves in stupid positions struggling to exercise.

It’s all madness I tell you. The whole ‘gym’ thing is a scam to help people with not enough brain gain extra muscle instead.

And you know the worst part? The pain. My body has aches in places that I didn’t know even existed. I’m pretty sure my body wants to kill me after my short foray. I shan't be going again.

151 words.

Wednesday Word Prompt: Anxious

A/N: It's Friday, I'm two days late for this prompt. But it hardly matters, no-one reads these anyway.

Anxious, 100 words

Heart pumping, blood rushing, pounding in your ears. Anxious.

Palms are sweaty, you wipe them on your pants, but they are wet again in seconds. Anxious.

Butterflies in your stomach, threatening to violently tear their way out of your insides. Anxious.

Shifting weight from foot to foot, uncontrollable fidgeting, hands moving of their own accord. Anxious.

Mind racing, won't stop dwelling, what if? What if? Anxious.

Fucking, not knowing how to end this writing piece. Anxious.

76 words.

Wednesday Word Prompt: It's good to be king

A/N: As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every Friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

It's good to be king.

200 words

Some days being the ruler of your own sovereign nation was a very difficult thing indeed. There were wars to be planned, generals to execute. Some days the king would have to meet the peasants, always such a smelly, disgusting, beggy lot. But they are subjects, and that’s just what you have to do. Some days you have to go to the dentist, no matter how much you don’t want to. Some days are spent quietly in the small council chambers, talking about things like taxes, and the state of the sewer system.

Today was not one of those days. Today was like of those days where you ride your griffin into the mountains and visit the wizard priest. Today was like wading into glorious combat, your blade slick with the shiny red blood of your enemies. Today was a good day.

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’ mum is shouting, I’m hugged, I’m whisked downstairs to breakfast, and after. It is a good day.

’Look at all these presents, take of that silly crown and let’s open them.’

175 words

Wednesday Prompt: Bitten Fingernails

A/N: As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every Friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

Bitten Fingernails

50 words

Fun fact: I don’t usually bite my fingernails, except when I am really drunk. I know I have had a big night when I wake up the next day with a massive hang over, and everything I try to do is hampered by the fact that I have bitten the nails so short it is painful.

56 words.

Wednesday Prompt: Even gods sleep in sometimes

A/N: As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every Friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

Even gods sleep in sometimes.

150 words

There is a banging at the door. ‘Go away!’ can be heard muffled from the other side, as if the voice has come from beneath a pillow.

The banging continues unabated and the knocker, a short, but tanned and muscular boy yells out ‘Wake up brother, or you will be late for the battle.’ There is a thump, and then mighty footsteps rattle their way to the door.

The door clicks and creaks open to reveal a man twelve foot tall, horns protruding from his head, veins spidering across his skin, blue against his almost opalescent skin. ‘If you are in such a hurry, I am here.’

As the identical twin brothers of war walk down the hallway to the kitchens, one 12 foot tall, the other barely 5 the world shivers in anticipation for the day's mighty combats.

139 words

Wednesday Prompt: Damn You, Postman

A/N: As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every Friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

Damn You, Postman

100 Words

Where is that asshole? I’ve been waiting for this package for almost a week since I ordered it online. I’ve been checking the tracking religiously. I know it left the compound for deliveries at 8:13am this morning. It has to be here soon.

It’s late afternoon, he never came. I’m still sitting outside waiting. I pull out my phone and swear. The tracking now says ‘attempted delivery.’ But I have been here watching all day, we didn’t have any post.

I go down the path to the mailbox and sure enough inside is a little parcel collection slip. When did the postman come? Damn you, postman.

106 Words