Hello, I’m Jones! I’ve had a lot of plots and ideas stuck in my head for years now, and love to write little short stories and concepts that may not necessarily fit into an RP or the story that we’re going with… So, with tht said, I thought I’d make a place where I can write and share my stories with people!
… I didn’t know where to put this threat, so if this isn’t the place to put short stories, then I apologize😅 (I know there’s writing competition thread somewhere, but I don’t think this counts? oh well, i can always move this!)
I’ll usually take a quote or theme or setting in some random world that I made and kinda just go with it to tell a story! If you like these, I’m glad I could make a connection with you :) and if not, I’m sorry I guess? Haha
This past month has been exhausting and a mess for me, so I hope you guys humor me here so I can write and express my emotions and feelings. Thank you all <3
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The single flame from the old flint lighter illuminated the face of a young man in a pale orange light. Light brown stubble danced around his upper lip and sunken cheeks as he puffed in to take a hit from the cigarette. His nose looked like it had been broken and fixed too many times to count. The subtle glint from his metallic finger on the lighter soon faded as the flame did, and the puff of white smoke silently moved towards the moonlight, out into the chaotic and loud world below.
Music played softly in the background on a broken down and barely working stereo, but it didn’t stop the soft lulls of a female voice humming along.
“Lincoln.” The voice was like honey and dream-like.
“Hmm.” The rougher voice responded.
“Tell me again about Icarus.” The sweet voice said. The rougher one laughed. “Darling, I’ve told you the story so many times. How aren’t you tired of it?”
“Just speak to me.” Lincoln could feel the fingertips of the woman on his shoulder blades, taking away the numbness he felt from the tobacco. He rose from the bed, walking into the moonlight. He wore nothing except a pair of dog tags; the holographic surface giving off a very subtle light. Lincoln ran a metallic arm through his dirty blonde hair, and made his way towards the balcony. “In Ancient Greece there was a brilliant inventor named Daedalus. He created the Labyrinth, to lock away the Minotaur—“
“Half man and half beast… kinda like you.” The voice giggled from the shadows. “Hey, you make me feel more like a man… anyway, King Minos had the man and his family locked away in the Labyrinth for helping someone through. In an attempt to escape, Daedalus created wings made of feathers and wax, and gave it to his son, Icarus, so that they could escape. He warned Icarus that he mustn’t fly to high, for the sun would melt the wax, and if he flew too low, the salt water would ruin the lift of the wings.” The man looked over to the bed to barely make out a leg spread on the mattress. “The two took flight, and Icarus was enamored with the feeling. He was—“
“Intoxicated. You always used that word.”
“Yes. Intoxicated with the feeling… but he didn’t heed his father’s warnings. He flew up into the sky without a care in the world… and one by one, his feathers started to fall off because of the melting wax and then—“ The man motioned a nose dive with his hand, and a splash with the other before taking a puff of his cigarette. “Daedalus took his body and wept for him on the closest island, where they named the ocean and island after him—“
“you always ruin the best part.” She chimed in melodically. “Not this again.”
“‘Here’s what they don’t tell you’” She began, to which the man looked away. “Lincoln, come on! You always said it better than me.”
“I want to hear you say it this time.”
“‘Icarus laughed as he fell. Threw his head back and yelled into the winds, arms spread wide, teeth bared to the world.’” From the shadows and into the moonlight came a woman fully exposed, curled golden locks as yellow as the sun running down her shoulders. She threw her head back and with arms wide, laughed as hard as she could before looking back up with him with glacier blue eyes. Slightly yellowed teeth bit the bottom her her chapped pink lips before she continued.
“‘The wax scorched his skin,ran blazing trails down his back,his thighs, his ankles, his feet.Feathers floated like prayers past his fingers, close enough to snatch back. Death breathed burning kisses against his shoulders, where the wings joined the harness. The sun painted everything in shades of gold.’” Lincoln rolled his eyes and chuckled. “What? What’s so funny?” She asked. Lincoln shook his head and looked down. “Nothing… I just don’t understand why you like that poem so much.”
“It’s the first one you ever told me, remember?” Her voice became lower, and Lincoln looked at his metallic arm. “How could I forget?” He muttered, but he shook his head. “The first time you walked in to that store, you didn’t have a rhyme or reason to be in there.”
“I asked you if you were a writer.” She answered
“I was, I could only think in poems when I saw you.” He said.
“You loved that poem. You loved that story.” She smiled at him.
“Maybe I just loved you?”
“Hmm, cute… but your heart was always meant for soaring, My Icarus.” He dared to look up in the bed, but moved his eyes towards the window, taking another shaky drag from his cigarette. “That was before. Before this.” He raised his arm, showing the metal in the moonlight before looking away at the neon signs and flying vehicles moving by. “I flew too close to the water. Couldn’t bear the weight of them.” He whispered.
“Come here, Silly. This bed is awfully cold without you.” Velvety tones drew his attention back to her. How could he say now. As he turned, he heard a giggle from the darkness. “What?” He asked with a chuckle of his own. “You are my warmth; the sun that graces my skin.” She purred sleepily. “I thought I was Icarus?” He teased slightly. “We both are… I want to fly towards you, to laugh and feel the wind lift me towards you.” Lincoln knelt at the bed, reaching out to touch her cheek with his good hand. “I’m afraid that if you fly too close… you’ll feel the burning of wax, and the loss of your feathers. I don’t think I can do that to you, Elle.”
“You’re not a bad man, Lincoln. You got broken in that war, but I fell in love with you before this all, and I sure as hell will love you through anything—“
“Even if it sends you falling to the ocean?”
“The only place I’m falling.” She yawned as she pulled him into bed, and wrapping herself around him. “Is in your arms. Goodnight, Lincoln.”
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The visions faded away. The moonlit hotel room started to change form into that of a destroyed and disgusting one. Debris, bullet casings, and alcohol filled the floors; the walls and windows shattered to give glimpse of a darker world… As the machine that replayed that memory throughout the room started to break down for the last time, the glitched and broken hums of the woman played one last time in a heartbreakingly sober way, filling the destroyed, war-ridden hotel with happiness for just a minute longer.
