norway
a white butterfly
t h e m e s
m x f • Active member, weekly post(s)
• literacy, 2 para min • respectful
* updated *
apocalyptic
survival
zombie
supernatural
dystopian
Sci-fi
alien
platonic or romance*
*•*•*•*•*•*•*
I am doing something different now. Below, I will write out with as much detail and as few words possible scenarios inspiring story settings with an implication for the story’s direction as well. If you vibe and want to know more, that will probably be what you want to write with me.
from dust, to dust
as the heel of her scuffed boot stretched out across the floor, [Muse] I’m attempted to relish in the stretch of tense leg muscles, only to grimace as the exhaustive twitch to her left eyelid flickered like the neglected electricity still fighting to light the bar she was sheltered in. Her body did not naturally lean back against the bars counter, despite being hidden well enough her mind would not allow the chance to feel secure - that was not how things worked at the present time. As the skin clinging to her eye twitched more prominently she came back to the present and out of the rare luxury of getting lose in her thoughts — she’d been holding a preserved bottle of vodka just over a small dusted glass - never yet poured, though.
She just needed a minute. Just a minute. To sit here, and let her body cope with the insane amount of stress that spiked with every jumped fence, distant gun shot or the hellish screams without a source in the open road.
She was alone in this. It would rush to her and cause so much concentration on the suffocating metaphorical hands of reality choked around her throat that — CRACK!
“Gasp!”
She froze. Like a river in an abandoned spring, her blood stopped - she waited, a familiar strain to the muscles in her neck twisting like the lower half of a snake while she waited in dead silence for a reason to escape.
Seconds ticked by and she considered peeking around the corner of the counter for anything around the bar loft — she pressed her palm to the ground and pushed to look, retreating immediately as a shard of glass penetrated her palm.
Idiot! She peeled back and analyzed her small physical intruder, but before she had the chance to remove the foreign material from her bleeding skin an abrupt rattle of foot steps made haste down the winding stairwell from the second floor across the room from her. They stop, just at the foot of the staircase, and a soft clatter of a refilling magazine with - she would count - 7 bullets were reloaded and ready.
the only thing worse than the dragging limbs of the dead were the lovely steps of the living.
Im fucked.
She just needed a minute. Just a minute. To sit here, and let her body cope with the insane amount of stress that spiked with every jumped fence, distant gun shot or the hellish screams without a source in the open road.
She was alone in this. It would rush to her and cause so much concentration on the suffocating metaphorical hands of reality choked around her throat that — CRACK!
“Gasp!”
She froze. Like a river in an abandoned spring, her blood stopped - she waited, a familiar strain to the muscles in her neck twisting like the lower half of a snake while she waited in dead silence for a reason to escape.
Seconds ticked by and she considered peeking around the corner of the counter for anything around the bar loft — she pressed her palm to the ground and pushed to look, retreating immediately as a shard of glass penetrated her palm.
Idiot! She peeled back and analyzed her small physical intruder, but before she had the chance to remove the foreign material from her bleeding skin an abrupt rattle of foot steps made haste down the winding stairwell from the second floor across the room from her. They stop, just at the foot of the staircase, and a soft clatter of a refilling magazine with - she would count - 7 bullets were reloaded and ready.
the only thing worse than the dragging limbs of the dead were the lovely steps of the living.
Im fucked.
spacing out
this station is all they’ve ever known — a civilian haven in an otherwise fabled wasteland beyond tightly sealed and guarded doors. Bred specially for this facility - but for these experimental soldiers it is known as “home” - everyone’s strengths are amplified and their weaknesses weeded out of them. They’re here to do what the older generations of humans could not - survive, despite adversity behind the known.
Sadly human nature can or be evaded. Attempts beneath the facility grounds to exploit a recently discovered parasite unsurprisingly react beyond the control of alleged groomed scientists, and within a matter of hours smeared by the red flashing lights and sirens for tornados, the inner structure of the quarters is over run and contaminated by rampant alien life.
Muse A and B cross thoughts with a similar mindset - escape. The thoughts of where and the point of surviving are shadowed by their intellectual reactions and they manage to avoid the worst of the facilities compromise.
However, the consequences of their only known life’s demise is beyond their ability to avoid.
Sadly human nature can or be evaded. Attempts beneath the facility grounds to exploit a recently discovered parasite unsurprisingly react beyond the control of alleged groomed scientists, and within a matter of hours smeared by the red flashing lights and sirens for tornados, the inner structure of the quarters is over run and contaminated by rampant alien life.
Muse A and B cross thoughts with a similar mindset - escape. The thoughts of where and the point of surviving are shadowed by their intellectual reactions and they manage to avoid the worst of the facilities compromise.
However, the consequences of their only known life’s demise is beyond their ability to avoid.
tbd.
Coming soon.
