Tweet Fiction: The Mechanic

Original Tweet:     source

They lived happily, the mechanic and his son. Relatively at least. Good fortune never sticks around for long and rarely does it leave alone.

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Expanded Content:

     While leaning against the railing of the second story balcony of his home, the Mechanic -- a gruff looking, forty-something year old man who looked like he knew the meaning of a hard days work -- looked on at the world beyond the perimeter of his fence. Seeing so much that had changed over the years and so little that had stayed the same. While he missed the way things used to be, he looked on at the world with a smile. The Mechanic and his son had lived well these past few years. Relatively well at least. 

     Things were not always easy, of course. Even before everything began to change they faced many difficulties, but with his son at his side he felt as though nothing could bring him down. The confidence that the Mechanic's son instilled in his dear father was all that kept him going during those darker days. While it's true that there were times the Mechanic pined for the simpler days, where he had a simple job as an engineer at one of the top military research facilities. Working on the latest and greatest technological advances the world may never even see. Staying up until the wee hours of the morning just to get the blueprints of various weapons, battle-suits, whatever else the brass decided the technology breakpoint of the week was completely fleshed out before the quickly approaching deadline. All far less complicated and stressful than being a husband and a father. Well, just a father now. 

     It was actually his wife that dragged him away from that sector at work. It was her brand of love that reignited his interest in working simpler machines. Cars, lawnmowers, blenders. All those simple, everyday things that got him into engineering in the first place. She was the one who made him realize that working on the most advanced designs at another behest wasn't the only life he could live. That giving up a cushy job in the government sector for a simpler family-oriented lifestyle could reinvigorate his creativity and allow him to pursue his own path of creation. It's thanks to her that he has such a wonderful son and all the time in the world to spend with him. It's just too bad that she turned out to be such a nut bag and left them before his son's fifth year on this strange planet of ours.

     The Mechanic sighed as he draped himself over the balcony, his thick arms dangling loosely over the side. It was unfair of him to put so much blame on her. It really was his fault for not seeing her problems sooner. He might have been able to help if he had just payed closer attention, but he was too busy being selfish. Using her as an excuse to get away from the stale life he was leading to chase his own fanciful dreams. He knew that he should be thankful for the gifts she gave him, including his son, the greatest gift he had ever received. 

     As the Mechanic was getting lost in his own memories, a deep rumbling sound began to rolling towards his perch and the house began to shake soon after. His heavy arms swung back and forth in time with the house as they dangled over the edge.  The shaking only lasted for a handful of seconds before dying away along with the rumbling.

     "Hm, was closer than normal, but still on the outer edge." The Mechanic said to himself in a rough voice that very much matched what you would expect from a man like him. Though he sounded completely unconcerned about the event that just occurred. After a few more moments of silence the Mechanic pushed off against the balcony railing with a grunt and stood up straight. While the Mechanic was average height, his wide shoulders and thick frame always left those around him describing him as 'big' and was often told he gave off an intimidating presence.

     Which he of course used to his advantage anytime negotiations were going poorly or an argument broke out. Very few people he worked with were willing to stand toe-to-toe with him when he stood up straight and puffed out his chest. On the other hand, his ex-wife had absolutely no problem calling him out on his shit and refused to back down no matter what tactics he used. Perhaps that was part of what pulled him towards her. 

     Interested in exactly where the source of the disturbance came from, the Mechanic began to walk around the balcony. Years ago he expanded the balcony that was built with this house so that it wrapped completely around the second floor. Even though it wasn't exactly the most aesthetically pleasing addition to be built, it allowed to him easily observe the world around his little home. Plus, it's not like he was going to get any complaints about it.  After making it a quarter of the way around the house, the Mechanic located the source. A dust cloud was slowly rising over the roofs' of the houses just two blocks away. 

     "South-East, of course. They've been particularly active over there for the past month or so." The Mechanic said quietly to himself as he recalled other similar incidents that had occurred recently. "I wonder what they think they found." The Mechanic smiled at the thought of something interesting being that close to him. "It must be incredibly important if the Burners think it's worth sending more men into my territory, feeding themselves right into my traps." The thought of the Burners writhing and struggling in one of any number of traps he had set out there brought a devilish smile to the Mechanics otherwise stoic face. 

     At first the Mechanic went easy on the Burners, he thought they were only doing what they needed to protect themselves from "The Taken", as they liked to call them. Burning the poor things with home-made napalm and flamethrowers, because that was the easiest way to keep one of them down. However, the Mechanic had the displeasure of speaking with a Burner during the first year, when panic still filled the streets and "The Chosen" -- as The Mechanic preferred to call them -- were still mostly an unknown entity to those who were left. It was quickly apparent that the actions of these "men", if you could still call them that, were not driven by survival. They were driven by hatred. Hatred of beings they knew next to nothing about and were completely unwilling to put in any modicum of effort to become educated. 

     Instead of listening to the Mechanic plead for "The Chosen", asking only that they be given a chance, the Burner instead talked at length about the various techniques they've used to destroy them. His face alight with glee, eyes burning with a fire that only a man absolutely consumed by hatred could have. In great detail the Burner described the sizzling of flesh, the popping of sinew and bones, the empty eye sockets after the eyeballs had been melted out. The Mechanic couldn't stand listening to even a second more of these horrifying and gruesome acts.

     So the Burner died.

     The Mechanic had never killed a man before that day, but he has killed many since. Even though the Mechanic made it very clear to the other Burners that their kind were not welcome here, delivered by leaving the lone Burner's disfigured corpse along with a note near one of the patrol routes the Burner had mentioned before his passing, they continued to probe into his territory.  They paid dearly for it, though. The Mechanic kept a running tally of the number of Burner corpses he found in his traps. He also kept a tally of the number of Burners he found who had be Chosen, but that number was incredibly low. Burner's often quickly took down any member of theirs who had even the slightly chance of being Chosen, so the Mechanic would occasionally find a charred Burner corpse while doing his own patrols. 

     What could possibly be important enough in this area to warrant such a consistent loss of life? The Mechanic wondered about this everyday and even now could not come up with an answer. Originally he thought they were after his home base or the technology he continued to develop in here, but with the number of lives that had been lost, he couldn't see those as being reasonable rewards. Figuring it out didn't bother him as much as it used to. Keeping them at bay kept him occupied and working at least.

    The Mechanic opened the double-doors, reinforced to withstand most regular munitions and smaller explosives, and went inside. It was about time to go on patrol and to see what was left out there to be scavenged. The Mechanic walked from room to room gathering what he thought he might need. Everything was either homemade or so modified that it's original design could not be seen at a glance. Once everything was gathered and fit snugly to his form so it wouldn't impede movement, all that was left was to let his son know he was going out, so he headed for the basement. 

     Even with the thick, cumbersome armored gloves on, the Mechanic still managed to deftly unlock each of the five locks that kept the basement door securely shut. As soon as it was unlocked he slowly opened it and peaked inside to make sure nothing out of the ordinary was occurring. Satisfied that all was well, he swung the door wide open and stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind him shortly after and he began making his way down the stairs. The heavy, plated boots on his feet thudding loudly with each step. 

     The basement was by far the safest place in the home. Absolutely everything was reinforced twice over. The walls, ceiling, and even the floor were reinforced so well that it could take an average crew days to make it through. The Mechanic had to be sure that nobody could get in here without him being present. After all, this is where his son lived. As he reached the bottom of the stairs the Mechanics face lit up as he saw his son. The Mechanic quickly crossed the room to the thick metal bars that kept his son safe. 

     His son slowly approached him, arms stretched out towards his father. As he came within grasp of the Mechanic, he was pulled into a great big hug by his father. Held as tightly as he could be with metal bars separating them. The son scratched and clawed at his father, but was unable to get any purchase due to the Mechanic's armor. The Mechanic paid no mind to his son's attempts, knowing that he was only doing what was natural to him. What was natural to all the Chosen. All they want is for their loved ones and friends to join them. To finally be at peace and be one with the rest of them.

     Unfortunately, the Mechanic could not join them just yet. There was still work that needed to be done. So much work left before he could finally be truly together with his son once again.

     "Don't worry, son. We'll be able to join everyone soon." The Mechanic said softly into his son's ear as he held him close. "Just please wait for daddy to be ready. Just a bit longer." The Mechanic continued to hold his son for a long while, never knowing if the dangers of the outside world would prevent him from ever making it back to his son again. But eventually, he let go and slipped away from his son's grasping hands.

     "I'll be back soon, my son." The Mechanic called back as he began thumping his way up the stairs. "And don't worry, I'll be sure to bring you back something to eat if I can. I love you!" The basement door slammed shut and the Mechanic left to continue the work that needed to be done. 

Tweet Fiction: What the Heart Wants

Original Tweet:  source

Through the window he saw her, the most gorgeous woman to ever live. His heart was now hers. A man was sitting with her, that could be fixed

Expanded Concept:

     Today felt like an off day for Nick, but he just couldn't put his finger on why. It could be due to the dark gray clouds looming low overhead, threatening to drop rain on him at any second. Of course today was the day he left his umbrella at the apartment. Then again it wouldn't do him much good since he was now having to jog to his appointment downtown due to the subway system being inexplicably down for maintenance in the middle of the day. His eyes dart down to his watch as he navigated through the crowd of slower pedestrians. 

     There was absolutely no way he was going to make it on time today, and the thought of being late caused his heart to race and stomach to turn. He was never late. Not a single time in his twenty-five years. Being punctual was his one constant. Even on the worst days he could look to it for comfort. Suddenly his head began to spin and his balance began to wobble as he tried continued on. As he moved to bring his back foot forward, it caught on the other and Nick went down hard onto the sidewalk. Immediately he could feel the pain in his forearms where they scrapped on the sidewalk, likely bleeding as well. 

     Nick stayed down on the sidewalk for several minutes, people continued to mill past him without a word of concern or worry. Why should he even bother if he's going to be late? He might as well call off the appointment at this point. With a defeated sigh Nick slowly dragged himself back up, bracing himself against the window of the building he fell in front of. Thankfully the glass was tinted so at least nobody inside saw him go down like that. 

     When he turned towards the building, he saw her and the world around him stopped. A woman was sitting at the window near the table and she was without a doubt the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on. He couldn't help but stare as he was completely captivated by this woman, which is something that had never happened to him before. He was lost, unsure what to do about the swell of emotions he felt towards this woman who he knew nothing about. All he knew was that his heart was now hers and hers alone. 

     Introduce himself, yeah. That was the first step typically. He would walk in there and give his name, ask for hers, then ask to take the open seat across from her. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Nervous? Well, that was to be expected with a woman such as the one he was meant to be with. With the smile returned to his face, Nick brushed off his shirt and turned towards the entrance, mentally preparing himself for this destined encounter. 

     Nick pushed open the entrance door and immediately began heading to where the woman was sitting, not sparing a glance for the couple of people in uniform standing by the door who greeted him. Nick's heart began to beat harder and faster as he began to get close to her, each step getting heavier as his mind began to go into overdrive. He managed to push through and finally reached her table.

     The woman looked up at him quizzically as he stopped in front of her, then her eyes went wide as she noticed the rough abrasions on his forearms when he fell. Shit, with everything that she made him feel, he completely forgot about that. He quickly held his arms behind his back and out of view, never letting the smile fall from his face. 

     "Hello, my name is Nick. May I have yours?" Nick asked confidently, as if their story had already been written. She hesitated. Likely still spooked by the sight of blood trickling down his arms, but Nick hoped his charms would help alleviate those worries.      

     "Uh, I'm Jessica." She eventually stammered out. "Are you okay? You look like you're pretty hurt. Maybe one of the staff here could help you?" she continued, worry evident in her voice. Nick continued to fall further in love with her. Even though she had never met him before, she showed such concern for him. She must be feeling even a fraction of what he feels towards her. 

     "Oh, no. I'm fine, it's just a scratch really. Thank you for your concern, Jessica." Nick replied. Saying her name brought more elation to him, as if it was magic word that would bring him eternal happiness. As Nick went to ask if he could take a seat, he was interrupted by another man approaching them and then rudely taking the seat across from her that rightfully belonged to him. That just would not do. It would not do at all. Nick knew he needed to fix this problem. 

     "Do you know this guy, Jess?" The rude interloper asked his love, thumbing his disgusting mitts towards Nick. 

     Before Jessica could respond, in a single swift motion Nick snagged one of the knives off of the table and drove it directly into the problem's throat. The problem's eyes went wide with shock as he made a weak attempt to grab the hand Nick had holding the knife hilt deep in his through. A spray of blood covered the table and splattered Jessica, but the brilliant color of red only further enhanced her beauty. 

     Using the knife as a handle, Nick dumped the problem out of the chair he stole and onto the floor where he slumped still. Blood began to slowly pool around his head. Without losing his calm demeanor or letting his smile slip, Nick took the place of the now solved problem and faced Jessica. 

     "So where were we?" Nick said, but he went unheard as that's when the screaming began.

Tweet Fiction: Welcome Home

Original Tweet:  source

Long trip is finally over, but home doesn't feel the same. Family is acting unfamiliar. Eyes on my back when I turn and an unexpected chill.

Expanded Concept: 

 "Home at last." John said to himself with a smile as he finished pulling his bags out of the cab.  For the last two weeks he was half the country away for a business conference, which was the longest he'd gone without seeing his family since - well, ever. He greatly underestimated how much he'd miss his wonderful wife and two young daughters, and it did not help that he was barely able to get in contact with them over the last half of his trip. But that time had finally passed and he couldn't wait to get inside and hug them all and bother his daughters with his company. 

     With his luggage in tow he made his way across the driveway and onto the stone paved path that led right up to the front door. For a second he considered knocking, but decided it would be more fun to surprise them. John walked over to the edge of the porch, glad the curtains were drawn so that nobody would see him sneaking by, and knelt down to pick up one of the rocks scattered around. This one had a false bottom with a key conveniently placed inside, so he picked the key out and made his way back over to the door. 

    John took a deep breath and then in one swift movement unlocked the door and swung it open. "Honey, I'm home!" he shouted out to the house, mimicking an ancient television sitcom that this kids would have never of seen. John stood there waiting for a response, feeling sillier as each moment passed. As he walked up the driveway he could see their car in the garage, so he knew they were likely home. Plus Angela, his wife, knew that he'd be home around this time and couldn't imagine that she'd go out and miss his homecoming. Perhaps they just didn't hear him?

     Giving up on the reaction he was hoping for, John gathered up his luggage again and made his way inside. As he crossed the threshold, a chilling wave passed through his body causing him to shiver intensely for a few short moments. Nearly making him drop his luggage. As quickly as it came, it passed. Leaving John confused and concerned, something was wrong here. Dumping all of his luggage aside, he kicked the door shut and began shouting out for his family. "Angela! Jenny and Amy! I'm home!" he shouted as he began to slowly make his way through the dark house. All of the lights were off in every room it seemed like. With only the little light that could force its way through the curtains to see by, this didn't feel like a home to John. The long shadows coming off the various pieces of furniture throughout the living room made it feel unfamiliar and uninviting. Past the living room he could see more light coming from the kitchen. Maybe they were trying to surprise him instead? 

     With the thought of his family planning a surprise for him warming his hear and pushing away his fears, John made his way through the dark living room. Doing his best to ignore the immense discomfort he felt as he made his way. Preparing his best surprised reaction he stepped into the faint light of the kitchen, but found it was just as empty as the living room. The thin curtains over the kitchen windows blocked much less light than the ones in the living, but everything in the kitchen still felt off. The feeling of uncertainty and gloom returned as he looked around the kitchen. There wasn't any signs that his family had been in there that day. 

     While looking around the kitchen, he glimpsed around the cabinet into the hall and noticed light coming out from under the basement door. "Huh? Why would they be in the basement." John asked himself softly. There was nothing down there other than the water heater and piles of boxes with misleading labels. It may say Christmas Decorations, but end up being full of old books. Organization was not this house's strong suit. Maybe they were trying to get it all organized as a present for him when he got home? 

     Another warm thought to push away the uncertainty. John walked down the hall and opened the basement door, then as he was standing at the top he called out, "Hello? Anyone down here? Angela?" A few silent moments passed by and with each passing second the warm thoughts were being pushed out of his mind. Reluctantly he began making his way down the stairs, even if there was nobody down there he still needed to turn the light off and of course the only light-switch is at the bottom of the stairs. 

     A loud slam came from just behind him and blasted through the narrow stairwell as hit the fifth stair down, nearly causing him to tumble down the rest. Luckily he managed to keep his balance and turned back towards the top. John's face nearly blanched white as he saw the door was now shut. "Whoever did that, that's not funny!" he called out, hoping it was just his kids playing a prank or the wind. Hastily he climbed back to the top and went to push the door open, but it wouldn't budge. With a loud thump he threw his shoulder against the door, but it didn't even move an inch. It's not like this door had a lock on it, so he couldn't imagine what was causing it to hold so tightly. 

     After several more unsuccessful attempts at getting the door to open, John turned and slowly began making his way down the stairs again. His heart was hammering like a drummer in a metal band at this point, but if he could navigate through the basement he should be able to climb out one of the windows set at the at the top of the walls. As he reached the bottom of the stairs the lights flickered, then as he looked around the basement he nearly fell to his knees, horrified at what he saw. Across every surface from wall to ceiling were splashes of something dark and red, it looked like blood. It smelled like blood. John began to notice a very thick coppery smell as he continued to look around, almost making him wretch. As he began to look closer at the splashes he began to see symbols, but they were like nothing he had ever seen before.

     A primal sense of fear kicked in and John turned right back around, the loud thumping of his feet hitting the wooden stairs matching his heart beat. When John reached the top of the stairs he didn't even stop to try the door, instead he just put all of his weight and momentum into it as he connected with his shoulder. The door swung open effortlessly and John flew through, crashing into the wall opposite of it creating a large dent and matching cracks in the drywall. 

     Ignoring the intense pain that was beginning to flare up in his shoulder, John began to run to the door. As he entered the kitchen he paused. This wasn't right. Everything was torn apart. The cabinet doors were all open or torn off. The widow was broken, causing the tattered curtain to sway in the wind. The table and chairs were shattered and their parts scattered throughout the room. John snapped himself out of the daze he was in and began running to the door. Something was definitely wrong here. He needed to get out of here immediately. 

     John's breath caught as he entered the living room, but he did not stop. It was much like the kitchen in that everything was torn apart and scattered around. However this room had the same dark splashes over every surface. Symbols covering any space that could hold them. He adverted his gaze the best he could as he continued to run to the door. When he finally reached the door and went to throw it open, the second he touched the doorknob a scream echoed throughout the house. Sounding as if it came from the second floor, which is where his daughter's rooms were.

     With a deep breath John ignored every sense in his body that was telling him to run, flee, and leave this house behind and let go of the doorknob. "Amy! Jenny!" John called out as he began to run up the stairs near the door. There was no way he could leave his daughters here, he needed to get them out and run. Making sure they were safe was now the only thing on his mind.  As he crested the stairs and looked down the hallway, he noticed a light leaking out from under the door to Amy's room. It was an ominous looking red and caused John to pause for a split second, but another scream echoed throughout the upstairs and pushed him into motion again. It was coming from Amy's room, so he made a B-line for the door leaking red light. 

     John crashed against the door, sending it flying inwards with a crash and opening the room up to him. What was inside rooted him to the hardwood floor beneath his feet. All of the furniture in this room was pushed and tilted against the walls. In the very center of the room were several large circles painted with that dark red substance along with a multitude of those small symbols. More than he could ever possibly count. Standing in the center of the circle was his wife and his two children, each looking just like they day he had left them. A small hope fluttered in his chest that this was all some cruel joke and they'd be laughing about this in a few seconds. That hope was dashed the second his wife began to speak.

     A cruel smile spread across his wife's face, showing off teeth that had no place in the mouth of a human. Far too many and far too sharp. "Your family is mine now. Won't you join us?" the creature said with his wife's face. It's voice burning John's ears like a red hot poker and reigniting his primal urge to run, but his body did not listen. His feet remain planted firmly where he stood. The creature then pushed his daughters forward, prompting them to walk towards John. Their long dark hair was hiding their faces as they walked to him in an unnaturally calm and smooth manner. As his daughters reached him they each took one of his hands in theirs, causing John's hands to burn with a white hot pain as though he'd just put them directly into a campfire. Still he could not move.

     They then looked up at him and began to smile, their hair falling back and revealing their faces. Menacing red eyes replaced the beautiful blue and brown he was used to seeing. Their expressions completely foreign to him. Tears began to flow freely down John's face. The girls held more tightly onto John's hands before saying in unison,

     "Welcome home." 

Tweet Fiction: Fog on the Snow Trails

Original Tweet: 

Skier's shadows cruise by through the fog below. Lift creaks ominously onward. The shadows morph, no longer skiers. Through the fog they rise

source

Expanded Concept:

    The general mood of the mountain seemed far more sullen than usual. All of the energy that usually filled the place seemed to be missing. There were no kids skating through the landing zones, chatting happily with their friends about their last run. None of the usual nervous excitement from the novice skiers taking their first lesson and an unusual lack of enthusiasm from the instructors in front of them. Even the mother nature was refusing to bring light to the mountain today.

     A storm raged through the area last night bringing winds that the weather service was forced to put a warning out for. The fresh snow that fell prior to the storm was whipped up against the trees, creating frozen pillars of snow that stood like sentinels lined up along the numerous ski trails. All that was left from the storm were dense gray clouds that blocked any sign of the sun and a bitter wind that cut through his layers like they weren't even there. 

     There was no way he was going to let that bring him down, though. It had been ages since he's managed to get out here to the mountains and with the way work and life in general were going, it would be awhile more before he could return. Getting to the top of the mountain and breathing that air as he looked down upon everything would surely break him free from the oppressive feeling that was trying to drag him down until he could no longer break free.

     With his boots firmly locked into his skis and poles tied securely to his wrists, he skated over to the entrance to the lift that would take him to the top of a black diamond trail, typically the most secluded of all of the trains at this resort. The lift operator's eyes looked glassed over with a thousand yard stare, not even acknowledging him or checking for his lift pass as he was waved forward to take the next chair. He just shook his head as he hopped into the chair as it came by, this place had really gone downhill since his last visit. 

     To him, riding the lift up to the top of the mountain was nearly as enjoyable as the skiing down part. It was a handful of very valuable minutes where nothing else could get to him. It was just him, his thoughts, and the nature around him. A peaceful moment where he could just reset and these days those kind of moments were rare. While nearly lost in his own mind, he nearly missed the fog rolling down the mountain. It looked incredibly dense, as if he could scoop some of it up with his hands and take it with him.

     Skiing with low visibility was always a pain, but he's done it before so it didn't worry him too much. As he had that thought, the shadow of a skier shot down past the lift. Going far faster than was safe in this kind of visibility. Just as he was about to yell at the asshole who would put others at risk for their own hit of adrenaline, four more shadows shot past going just as fast. Must be some kids just having a race, he just hopped that nobody got hurt before they got their results. 

     Instead of worrying about it, he just leaned back and tilted his head to face the sky, causing it to rock slightly on the line. With a sigh he resigned himself. They weren't his problem and he wasn't about to stress himself out over it. Not on this trip. Instead he just closed his eyes, waiting to hear the bell near the top that signaled it was nearly time to get off. 

     Minutes passed, but the bell never came. Suddenly the chair jerked forward as it came to a stop surprising him and he nearly slipped out of the icy chair, but thankfully he'd ridden in the lifts so many times he knew to expect such a stop. Probably needed to be stopped because someone botched their exit off the chair or needed help getting on it, like the novices he saw practicing the in landing zone of the bunny hills. 

     With a deep sigh he relaxed back into the chair, content to just enjoy his alone time out here in nature. He went to close his eyes again, but was stopped as several more shadows zipped through the dense fog, heading down the mountain at a speed that could not be safe. How many speedsters were out today? Did he miss a memo or something? Then another group of shadows came by. 

     These ones were moving at a much more reasonable speed. Something was off and it made him feel unnerved. Their shadows were distorted as if they were speeding down the trail, but they were going a much more leisurely pace. As soon as those shadows faded into the fog, another set appeared to be coming down, but they were just crawling forward, even coming to a stop just under his lift. Was it the Ski Patrol? Was there something wrong with the lift and they needed to give him instructions on how to get down?

     A chill immediately shot through his spine as a realization hit him like an avalanche. Even though those skiers from before were blazing down the trails, there was no familiar sound of skis cutting into the snow. With there being a thin layer of ice of the top of the powder today, it would have been incredibly loud. And yet he heard nothing. Something incredibly wrong was going on, but he was trapped up here. Never before had he felt so helpless.

     The shadows began shifting and circling around the lift below him, the fog appeared to be so thick that he still could not make out their forms. From the way they moved there was no way they were skiing. Without realizing it, he had begun to hold his breath and his lungs were beginning to burn. Too afraid to move a single muscle, even to breath, he froze there in that chair while watching the shadows shift and spin below him.

     An eternity later, the shadows finally began to descend down the mountain. As they faded into the fog, he let took in a the largest breath he could muster. The icy air soothing to his burning lungs. The relief was short lived, as the second he took that breath an ear piercing scream echoed from beyond the fog, from where those shadows just faded. 

     And then they returned, no longer at the crawling pace they appeared initially. Instead they picked up all the speed that their fellow shadows showed possible. Unlike the others, they did not stick the mountain. They rose off of the mountain, making a direct sprint up to where he sat, frozen from both fear and the unnatural sudden chill they seemed to bring with them. 

     He was allowed only a brief view of them as they broke the dense fog. Their faces shifted and morphed endlessly, showing visages of horror, fear, repulsion, and desperation. Bodies never seeming to take form, only seeing glimpses of what could be considered limbs, though elongated and misshapen they were. Before even a yelp of terror could escape his throat, they were through him and gone. 

     As they disappeared back into the fog, the lift began to move. The chair once again ascending to the top of the mountain. It was nearly to the top when it stopped, so only a short trip remained. The bell sounded as they approached the top lift station, reminding those who were riding they needed to disembark soon. The lift attendant looked up as the bell rang, but much like the attendant at the bottom his eyes were glazed over, looking at the chair but not really seeing it. As the chair arrived he motioned for the riders to disembark.

In his current state, he didn't realize that there was nobody left in the chair. 

Tweet Fiction Explained

    From today on I've decided to try something new. Everyday I'm going to post on a story of a 140 characters on my new Twitter account, @Civil_Writing. I will always try to hit exactly 140 characters, but in some cases I may just say fuck it and go a few short. I'll never go over, however. 

   This should present an interesting challenge as I'll be very limited in the descriptors I can choose to use, meaning I'll have to try and use more powerful descriptors to get across the impact I intend. 

   Once it's posted, I'm going to head here to expand on the concept I've started with that Tweet. So basically I'll be using the Tweet as though it were a writing prompt. I can't promise anything good will come out of this, but it should be good practice!

   Another post will be coming shortly after this one for the very first entry in this series. Hope y'all enjoy it!