‘Left’ – A Short Halloween Prose

With a deafening bang a small red glistening bump appeared at the centre of the killer’s forehead. Their body slumped to the floor as a handgun slipped from the shaking fingers of what was almost their final victim.

Tears of relief fell down her cheek.

A television screen behind her flicked on, the loud static causing her to spin around in fear. “Say hello” came the familiar voice of the killer; childish yet gravelly and aged.

The static disappeared and camcorder footage faded in. It was of the wall behind her, in front of which the killer slowly walked to the middle of the frame.

She turned but there was nothing else in the dark and empty room except for the killer’s body on the cold wet concrete floor.

“…h-hello”, a weak voice conceded from the television.

This was far from the voice of a gleefully disturbed old man. This was her wife. Where was she?

She stepped closer to the screen, hoping to see and hear anything that could help locate Ellie.

The killer walked up to the camera and removed his hood and balaclava. What the fuck? It was Ellie.

Her eyes were red and her mouth was covered in thick black tape.

A black glove handed her a box from behind the camera. “Now, we’ve both agreed to a little game of pretend haven’t we El?” Ellie held the box to her mouth and nodded before the glove secured it to her head with more thick tape.

“Don’t forget your costume.” the killer’s voice chorused from behind the camera and out of the box.

Ellie put the balaclava back on and mumbled through the tape. “I think she’s saying she’s sorry but I don’t know why”, echoed the killer’s voice, “you’re going to be the one in trouble.”

The television turned off and a bright white daylight bulb lit the room.

She turned back around, shaking and sobbing.

She tried to kneel down slowly but her knees buckled and she landed hard before the body.

She picked up the gun, in the hopes of an un-dead killer, and fear of one still on the loose.

Leaning over the body, she was forced to see up-close the shiny black hole she had created.

Peeling back the hood, she saw long brown curls either side of the balaclava that she hated herself for not somehow noticing. She dropped the gun to the floor and gently removed the balaclava, smearing a dark line of blood across her wife’s forehead.

Panic started to set in.

She can’t be dead. I can’t have… I don’t want to think about it. There has to be something I can-

-the hole looked different than before. A different colour. Is that the end of the bullet? “Ellie!!” Nothing.

She touched the hole with her fingertip, her hands pale and shaking. It felt cold.

Carefully she pushed her fingernail at the edge hoping to ease the bullet back out but blood gently flooded up and refilled the hole.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” she looked around for something to pull it out with. A thought crossed her mind. “Oh god no.”

Maybe she could reach it with her teeth?

“There’s no time. Oh god, Ellie please be OK.”

She steadied herself with her hands flat on the concrete at either side of Ellie’s head.

She could taste Ellie’s blood as her lips pressed against her forehead.

She closed her eyes and pressed her teeth into the hole. She felt something hard against them.

It slipped away.

She panicked.

She hadn’t heard the lead hit the floor when she started to suck.

What is a prose?

I’ve started posting stuff on theprose.com, starting with my pre-existing Not Words and my Nonsense Short Stories I write with a random first sentence before falling asleep.

It’s all here, baby: https://theprose.com/danielpratt.

 

Here are a couple of excerpts:


Not Word. 1. Hacro

Hacro
Noun.
Definition: A method of speeding up a repetitive task on a computer that still involves human action. A human macro.
Example: Changing the last character in a list of sentences by mindlessly pressing the same short sequence of keys until they all appear done.
(Most often involves the sequence ([right-arrow], [down arrow], [delete]) x [NUMBER OF LINES YOU’VE SPELT WRONG])
References: Macro. Human.


Night Shorts. 3. ‘Jonathan was a shoe’

Jonathan was a shoe.His tongue was stitched in such a way that the front and back facing sides seamlessly merged creating a bulging soft item that inexplicably felt both smooth and rough depending on where you touched it.There were bubbles in his sole that you could see all the way through. They were distributed in such a way that you could look through a bubble in the heal and see out one of the sides. If Jonathan ate too much his bubbles glowed red and made him feel self conscious.He didn’t know if any of the patterns in his design were mirrored or copied in another shoe. This made him feel awkward and lob sided which sometimes made him sad and sometimes lonely. He would cheer himself up quite quickly by remembering his foot was on an accomplished young athlete who he was very good friends with.His arms were laces. They were very soft and had shiny plastic intertwined throughout their threading which made them look like they were covered in glitter. This sometimes made people think he was a girl but he was a shoe and would tell them so but that it didn’t really matter anyway.He was a size 5 in a brand that over estimated their sizes so always believed he was really a 4 1/2. Wanting to be thought of as more manly, he would lie and say he was a 5 1/2 or use units that made it sound bigger. He started to get away with it more as he got older, by which time he had forgotten it was a lie and started to stretch and sag into at least the made up size to which he referred.One day his owner died…


Were those even excerpts? That last one seemed especially long and the first one was definitely an entire piece of something.

 

So, given that what a prose is is:


prose

prəʊz/

noun

  1. written or spoken language in its ordinary form, without metrical structure.
    “a short story in prose”
  2. another term for sequence (sense 4 of the noun).

verb

  1. talk tediously.
    “he was still prosing away about the advantages of a warm climate”
  2. dated
    compose in or convert into prose.


…I think we’re both pretty happy with how things have gone down here and totally get what a prose is, right? Right? Write?

Not Words

This is a list of words that don’t exist but do in my head. In future, they will be stored here.


1. Hacro
Noun.
Definition: A method of speeding up a repetitive task on a computer that still involves human action. A human macro.
Example: Changing the last character in a list of sentences by mindlessly pressing the same short sequence of keys until they all appear done.
(Most often involves the sequence [right-arrow], [down arrow], [delete])
References: Macro. Human.


2. Kinese
Verb.
Definition: To apply or imbue kinetic energy.
References: Move.


3. Clatterdown
Noun.
Definition: A cast-iron spiral staircase.
Attributes: Onomatopoeic.
Etymology: Named for its dangerous potential to ironically descend its user.
References: Staircase.


And The Beat Goes On

I’ve got a few ideas for what to use this space for:

-CV

-Music Experiments (demos, covers, samples, whatever)

-Software Demos

-‘Art’

-A Diary of all of the emails a get because of ‘Other Daniel’ whose family send me photos of outings and whose college informed me he had graduated around the same time as I did.

  • This one is a little tricky legality-wise being something I’m not sure a law yet governs. If anyone has any ideas as to how I can be sure it’s OK to publish crap I get for someone else who uses my email address email me. I regularly un-subscribe his shit and have informed any of his friends and family that I’m not him but they still send me things.

-Comedy ideas I can’t afford to produce

-Comedy ideas I have produces (probably cheap)

-A Rant or Two

-Programming Hints & Tips

-Shorts stories / sections from novels I’ll never finish

-An ‘Un-Subscribe’ button

-Finally, more of these playlists I’ve starting making on days I choose music as the background to my working day/night. I’ll try and find a YouTube link where possible as some might have some hidden visual splendor I’m unaware of. In fact, I’m copying and pasting things so fast I’m probably missing official videos and pasting in some gimp’s photographic slide-show from a wet trip to an empty dogging alley with his ‘uncle’, probably. If you find a better one let me know.

Mexican Teenagers – Kaki King
London Bye Ta-Ta – David Bowie (Bowie at Beeb)
Within a Mile of Home – Flogging Molly
Zerox – Adam And The Ants
Storm & Stress – Bloc Party
In A State – UNKLE
Gnik Nus – The Beatles (Love Re-Working)
Ragged Wood – Fleet Foxes
Building Steam With A Grain Of Salt – DJ Shadow
Repulsion – Dinosaur Jr
Crack City – David Bowie & Tin Machine
Mexican Dogs – Cold War Kids
With A Little Glam – ccc – ill chemist
A Sky Blue Rhapsody – ccc – ill chemist
This is Where We Blaze the Nuggz – Caddywhompus
Glycerine – Bush – I was thinking about doing a cover of this, so you know.
Love And Mathematics – Broken Social Scene
Sunday – Bloc Party

glBeginAgain()

Now that the business side of my life is well and truly at home over at Fantastic Development, I feel I can get back to having a web presence all of my own.

To prove it, here’s a fairly meaningless First NEW post with the beginnings of my evening’s work playlist (the links are all to YouTube videos):

Warszawa – David Bowie / Brian Eno
Even Flow – Pearl Jam
The Recluse – Plan B
A Modern Midnight Conversation – The Chemical Brothers
Don’t Ask – grizzly bear
Black Swan (Vogel Bonus Beat Eraser remix) – Thom Yorke
Confessions Of A Pig – Monkey (Damon Albarn & Jamie Hewlett)
Leave Home – The Chemical Brothers
Black Dog – Led Zeppelin
Supertheory Of Supereverything – Gogol Bordello
Eclipse – Pink Floyd
Tuna In The Brine – Silverchair

…and, yes, that’s an OpenGL / Futurama joke you see in the post title. Readers may need to get used to that sort of thing.