infinitebuilder

[infinitebuilder]

She Broke Me... and The Wall

Ow.

That one hurt.

There's now a gaping hole in the wall—courtesy of the orc that put me through it.

Cheap wood—probably from before the war—when our two races didn't get along.

She's standing over me now.

Apologizing—apparently not meaning to slam me that hard.

Hey, I enjoyed it.

That might be a little strange, but I'm here for her and the pain she gives—unintentional or otherwise.

I'm trying my absolute best not to look up her skirt.

Not working.

Huh. She's wearing the lingerie I gave her for our one-month anniversary.

Nice.

She is a fine specimen of woman, though.

Damn.

She picks me up and I tell her it's fine.

This muscle-bound beauty keeps apologizing.

I just give her a peck on the lips and blame it on the wall.

She smiles, kissing me back.

Her tusks don't get in the way anymore.

She got tired of them doing just that before, and had them filed down.

I wasn't okay with this at first, but, honestly, Thala would look hot regardless—no matter what she wore... or didn't.

She looks back at the wall and then smirks.

Good thing this tavern wasn't owned by anyone.

This place was abandoned years ago.

That's why we chose it for our six-month anniversary.

She shuts the door, wanting to make it more "intimate".

Never mind the new window we just made.

If anybody, say, a passerby or wandering merchant stopped long enough, they could see everything.

It might scar them with the kind of antics we get up to, though.

Not exactly behavior to appease the tea-drinking little old ladies.

This green-skinned beauty makes me question my sanity—and if I still have all my ribs intact.

Strong enough to probably crush a dragon's skull, and yet, all woman.

And heaven help anyone who'd try to hurt me when she's around.

I didn't ask for a hot girlfriend that could also be a bodyguard.

That being said, I'm sure glad I have her now.

I admire Thala.

Not just because she could fold me in half without effort.

I see who she is—a woman, blessed by the gods with an incredible body, and an even more beautiful soul.

My parents don't see that.

Her parents were perfectly okay with us getting together.

Mainly, because they were dead—her joke, not mine.

I didn't really think it was funny.

She couldn't stop laughing.

Then again, my family is more "traditional", you could say.

They were not okay with my taste in women.

Mom especially didn't like the fact that I brought home an orc.

Against "tradition", they said.

Never mind, that she was kind, loyal, incredibly hot, and tough, with her own battle scars of the past.

Nope. Just an orc to them.

Not worthy of being with their proud elven heir.

Well, screw their opinions.

I didn't ask for their blessing, because I knew they'd never give it.

Thala wanted to "change their minds" by changing who she was.

To try and appease them.

To hell with that!

Be who you are!

Be the beautiful badass orc queen that I desire and love deeply.

Don't change for them.

So, that's what led to this moment now.

Thala just put a blanket over the hole in the wall.

I know what that means.

This lady orc is about to make me a happy man.

And that's all I need.

I couldn't be happier.

[infinitebuilder]

She Broke Me... and The Wall

Ow.

That one hurt.

There's now a gaping hole in the wall—courtesy of the orc that put me through it.

Cheap wood—probably from before the war—when our two races didn't get along.

She's standing over me now.

Apologizing—apparently not meaning to slam me that hard.

Hey, I enjoyed it.

That might be a little strange, but I'm here for her and the pain she gives—unintentional or otherwise.

I'm trying my absolute best not to look up her skirt.

Not working.

Huh. She's wearing the lingerie I gave her for our one-month anniversary.

Nice.

She is a fine specimen of woman, though.

Damn.

She picks me up and I tell her it's fine.

This muscle-bound beauty keeps apologizing.

I just give her a peck on the lips and blame it on the wall.

She smiles, kissing me back.

Her tusks don't get in the way anymore.

She got tired of them doing just that before, and had them filed down.

I wasn't okay with this at first, but, honestly, Thala would look hot regardless—no matter what she wore... or didn't.

She looks back at the wall and then smirks.

Good thing this tavern wasn't owned by anyone.

This place was abandoned years ago.

That's why we chose it for our six-month anniversary.

She shuts the door, wanting to make it more "intimate".

Never mind the new window we just made.

If anybody, say, a passerby or wandering merchant stopped long enough, they could see everything.

It might scar them with the kind of antics we get up to, though.

Not exactly behavior to appease the tea-drinking little old ladies.

This green-skinned beauty makes me question my sanity—and if I still have all my ribs intact.

Strong enough to probably crush a dragon's skull, and yet, all woman.

And heaven help anyone who'd try to hurt me when she's around.

I didn't ask for a hot girlfriend that could also be a bodyguard.

That being said, I'm sure glad I have her now.

I admire Thala.

Not just because she could fold me in half without effort.

I see who she is—a woman, blessed by the gods with an incredible body, and an even more beautiful soul.

My parents don't see that.

Her parents were perfectly okay with us getting together.

Mainly, because they were dead—her joke, not mine.

I didn't really think it was funny.

She couldn't stop laughing.

Then again, my family is more "traditional", you could say.

They were not okay with my taste in women.

Mom especially didn't like the fact that I brought home an orc.

Against "tradition", they said.

Never mind, that she was kind, loyal, incredibly hot, and tough, with her own battle scars of the past.

Nope. Just an orc to them.

Not worthy of being with their proud elven heir.

Well, screw their opinions.

I didn't ask for their blessing, because I knew they'd never give it.

Thala wanted to "change their minds" by changing who she was.

To try and appease them.

To hell with that!

Be who you are!

Be the beautiful badass orc queen that I desire and love deeply.

Don't change for them.

So, that's what led to this moment now.

Thala just put a blanket over the hole in the wall.

I know what that means.

This lady orc is about to make me a happy man.

And that's all I need.

I couldn't be happier.

[infinitebuilder]

Hot and Greasy

Why does she tempt me so?

That little vixen waits for me to grab her hot body.

To taste her insides, juice flowing freely.

I must have her now!

Be mine, darling!

I want to savor the flavor of your existence.

Give me all your tasty goodness!

I will have that beautiful—

"Wade. Why is your face pressed up against the chimichanga roller case?"

Deadpool blinked.

"Reasons."

[infinitebuilder]

Spacial Delivery: Fire, Blood and Bleach

"We're safe now," the blunette panted.

Her heart hammered in her chest—from running and from fear.

Her stoic companion lit a flame in his palm.

"We're never safe," Malcolm muttered, his cool English accent giving her chills.

He turned to her—his amber eyes flashing with concern.

"Not as long as we have this," he said, holding up the cursed book.

Jane didn't like how he said that—but he was right.

And that book gave her the creeps.

They'd narrowly escaped death as it was.

The cultists were relentless.

They wanted it back—like it was their firstborn son.

Mal had lit several up in the corridor before.

However, that didn't stop the others.

Rushing headlong and unafraid of death.

He'd saved Jane from stepping on a

paralysis rune by yanking her back—and blasting it into oblivion.

They sprinted away from the "sacred meeting room", dodging spears and fireballs—Malcolm firing back with his own.

Jane fired wildly with her Plas-gun, trying to keep them back.

They'd found the nearest room and ran inside.

He could barely keep the fire flickering in his hand now.

Turning to the wall, he faced a dilemma—there was no exit.

No secret lever.

Dead end.

Mal cursed under his breath.

"Hex. We're trapped."

She followed his gaze toward the wall, scanning for something he missed.

Nothing.

Jane checked her Plas-gun—only a quarter charge left.

"Hex." She echoed his sentiment.

He pressed on the bricks, desperate to find a secret passage or something.

No indentations of any kind.

No cracks.

Jane eyes widened with growing panic.

"What's the problem Mal?"

He sighed.

There was no escape.

"We're hexed, love. Star-burned hexed," he said, meeting her eyes.

She tried to hide her fear—behind all the bravado and the smirks and sass.

But she was terrified.

Jane never asked for this.

Neither did he, come to think of it—it was just a job.

Mal caught sight of the bracelet she wore.

He hadn't forgotten his promise—to find the owner, and Jane's identity.

He shook off those thoughts, forcing himself back to the present.

"What do we do?" she asked, her voice close to trembling.

"We fight," he replied, the fire flaring brighter from his palm.

"Then, we get this star-burned book to the archives."

Her trembling lips settled, resolve returning.

Readying the weapon, Jane whipped the slide back.

Determination marked her face.

Locks of her sky-blue hair were pushed aside, as she raised the gun, preparing for the fight of their life.

They heard the frenzied footfalls coming closer to the door.

Jane gripped her gun with one hand—the other clasping Mal's unlit palm.

A glance was shared between them.

They braced for the end...

The cultists never came.

Malcolm was confused, but kept his guard up, keeping the flame steady.

The freaks knew they were in there.

Why weren't they breaking down the door?

All of the sudden, light enveloped them—bright blue and blinding.

The heavy clacking of feet against stone faded away—like a distant memory.

FLASH!

The duo stood in a pristine atrium that smelled like bleach and sanitized dreams.

No stone floor. No dying torches. No crazed cultists.

"What the hell?" Jane wondered aloud, still trying to get her bearings.

Mal blinked hard against the bright, white aesthetic of the room.

He looked around, realizing what had happened—they'd been pulled.

Saved, was more like it.

"We're alive?" she asked Mal curiously.

He took a deep breath and released.

"It appears so, love."

Jane wanted to leap joyfully—until her eyes fell upon the administration desk.

The man behind the polished marble counter looked unimpressed.

"So... Did you get the item that was required of you?" he inquired flatly, not bothering to even offer a greeting.

Clearly, he wanted to be anywhere else.

Malcolm started toward him, angrily balling his smoking fist—but Jane held him back before he could respond.

He would've definitely chosen violence—she knew that.

"Cutting it a little close don't ya think?" the blunette snapped at the administrator.

The disinterested man sat in his chair calmly.

"Did you get the book or not?" he asked smugly, his mustache twitching.

Malcolm struggled against Jane's grip, trying to hit the man.

"Calm down, Mal. This is not what we need right now," she said softly.

Mal relaxed a little.

His fist reluctantly opened.

"Even if this thokker deserves whatever you were gonna do to him, he did save us from those psychopaths," she added hotly.

The man watched them both with a bored expression—fingers tapping impatiently on the desk.

"Well?" he said impatiently.

Malcolm broke free of her hold, and reaching into his coat, pulled out a sinister looking book—the cover a dark crimson with gold inlay.

He dropped it unceremoniously on the desk with an emphatic thud.

"Here's your star-burned book. Take care it doesn't unleash something you and your Olympic bastards can't handle," he growled.

The man didn't flinch.

"Thank you. Your payment will be available momentarily," the mustached scumbag said automatically.

He didn't seem intimidated.

Jane and Mal didn't move.

They stood there, glaring at him.

He ignored them, taking down notes for the paperwork to come.

Then, as if to wipe away a stain, he waved his hand in dismissal.

"You may leave now, Miss Jane. And you can take that parasite with you," he sneered, eyes narrowing at the tall Maj beside her.

Mal bared his fangs and growled at the man, but she pulled him along, quickly exiting the desk.

"You know? I should have let you eat him," she blurted when they were out of earshot.

Mal walked alongside her, fangs already retracting.

"You know I'm trying to stop doing that," he retorted, his face still hard.

"I think you could make an exception for him."

A smirk crept across his pale face.

"Perhaps."

Jane gazed up at him.

His dark hair fell like a waterfall over his shoulders.

She caught herself staring.

He was attractive.

Maybe not her type though.

Jane wasn't quite sure she could fully trust a Vam, even if he was a Maj who renounced Sanguine Delight.

Bloodlust or not, he was still dangerous—yet somehow charming.

His orange eyes twinkled with life.

What was he thinking?

"Lunch?"

That caught her off guard.

"What?" she choked out.

"Do you want to get lunch?" Mal asked again, gesturing to the nearly-empty food court.

Jane glanced at the food kiosks.

Some guy was angrily punching the Glarb vending machine in the corner.

Damn thing was always busted.

Security approached him with concern.

She looked away.

Mal was staring at her with a confused expression.

Her attention snapped back.

"Oh. Yeah, sure," she sighed with relief, her thoughts returning.

Without warning, a blinding light appeared—a brilliant blend of blue and white.

Then a sandy-haired figure in a jacket materialized in front of the disgruntled man's desk.

"Damn. It's Flint," Jane said, rolling her eyes in disgust.

She checked her Plas-gun, pulling it from the holster.

Mal threw her a worried glance.

"Don't worry. I'm going to get another NRG clip for this," she said calmly, gesturing with the weapon.

Her head gave a slight tilt.

"Flint is safe from me. For now," his companion teased.

Malcolm gestured to the Classy Burger kiosk in the food court.

"What about lunch?"

Jane's eyes shifted to Flint Sparrow, standing at the admission desk, emptying his pockets.

"I have a permit for that. Oh. I forgot I had that. Um...I have no idea how that lingerie got in my pocket. Oh! Here it is! Wait, no... no that's a burrito."

Her gaze darted to Mal's attractive face, then back to Flint.

"I think I lost my appetite," she muttered coldly.

Malcolm followed her gaze.

Then looking back at her, he nodded.

"Well, suit yourself love," he remarked.

Then he took off toward his favorite grease spot in the entire station.

She watched him go, her gaze fixed on his backside a little longer than a passive glance.

Jane smiled, despite herself.

He may be a Vam—but he had a great figure.

She started toward Stockpile—the ammo depot.

Not wanting to run into Flint today, she picked up the pace.

That fool might not survive the encounter.

Jane turned back one more time to eye Malcolm, tucking sky-blue locks behind her ear—a habit she had when something interested her.

He was nice.

In a "burn you to a crisp and possibly smile afterward" kind of way.

Intelligent, resourceful... and hot.

Yeah, definitely hot.

But so was the sun.

[infinitebuilder]

Last Request

I awake with a jolt.

Funny, I forgot I was here.

Just for a bit.

I hear the soldiers and the crowd—laughing and carrying on.

Someone should stop it...but nobody will.

It's a celebration.

For me.

I should be honored, I guess, but it's not a happy occasion.

They're celebrating my defeat.

My capture.

After causing them so much hell, they finally got me.

Well, I should say, I got me.

Guess I deserved it.

My foolishness is the cause of this situation.

That beautiful, damnable woman.

I think I can hear her at the party now.

I wish I could see her beauty.

To look her in the eyes, and see the gaze of a seductive devil like her.

But, I'm unable now.

Why?

They took my eyes from my head.

Along with my hair.

Darkness is all I can see now.

Stumbling around, lifting, pushing—slave labor.

Because that's what I've become.

Before, I was the strongest guy around.

Killing that lion with my bare hands was a fine achievement.

Slaying all those men with that ass's jawbone was quite fun too.

Then there was that fox incident with the torches and the wheat fields.

Ha. They were beyond pissed at that one.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a violent man by nature—I was just chosen to fight.

The power I used to have wasn't mine. It was given—and now it's gone.

I've always had a weakness for women.

She was the one I truly loved.

Delilah.

Unfortunately, I made the mistake of trusting her, and it cost me everything.

My parents told me not to get a haircut.

I wish I'd have listened.

Now, as I listen to their chants and cheers, the insults and drinks thrown at me, I find myself wanting one thing—Redemption.

I muster what energy I've got left, and turn my face to the ceiling.

I can't see the intricate carvings above, but strangely, I see Him.

The One who gifted me this power.

This burden, and curse.

I ask for two things— Forgiveness.

And righteous revenge.

I utter my last words: "Lord, grant me Your power one last time.

Let me die with these wretched Philistines."

Placing my hands upon the two pillars I'm chained to, I feel the surge like all those times before.

With a final anguished cry—I bring the house down.

[infinitebuilder]

New York Chaos

"Run Katie, run!" I tell her impatiently. Buildings falling down around us, and she decides to check her phone.

A balcony shatters into the pavement and inch away from the car.

I grab Katie's arm, forcefully pulling her from the car.

"Dammit woman, move!" I yell at her.

I didn't hear her response.

A large piece of debris is falling toward me, picking up speed.

This is the end.

Goodbye, New York.

I'm not crushed immediately.

A huge green guy just caught the chunk of concrete and tossed it aside like it was styrofoam.

He smirked at me and then jumped into the air - taking off like a missile.

I was saved today by a monster.

Thanks, guys.

No matter what people say about the spangled guy or the hot spy, they're all okay in my book.

-------

[infinitebuilder]

Friendly Neighborhood Redhead

There he goes again.

He left the window open this time.

It gets cold in the mornings.

You'd think he would know this, being a genius and all.

But no.

Classic, scatterbrained Pete.

But, honestly—I wouldn't have it any other way.

Could the living conditions be better?

Sure.

Mr. Ditkovich is about to drive me crazy.

I hear him screaming "Rent!" in my dreams, I swear.

Funny.

Pete didn't use to care so much about finding a new place.

But after an incredibly satisfying morning—I have no shame in admitting it was flawless—he casually mentioned finding a new place.

He first suggested mine, but I said that would be a bad idea.

My parents still haven't gotten over their issues.

You think they'd be proud that their only daughter is a well known actress, but nope.

I'm invisible to them.

That's fine.

I don’t need them anyway.

I've got my job, our friend Harry, and Pete.

Plus, I'm alive and living in the greatest place on Earth—New York.

Also, I've got a secret.

Not a bad or dirty one—one that is a hell of a burden. But it's a good one.

I'm dating Spider-Man.

So, yeah. Me. Mary Jane Watson, hooking up with the webhead "menace" that saves the city every day.

I stare out the window, past the buildings, the smog and pollution choking the air, and the constant sea of traffic on Main Street.

Because, if I look long enough, I'll catch a glimpse of him.

There he is, swinging like he owns the city.

Might as well—he's done so much for it.

Yeah. Go get 'em Tiger.

-------

[infinitebuilder]

Morning Rituals

CLICK.

The blinding light came on suddenly.

"Get up. Today is the day," the voice called.

"It's Saturday," she remarked sleepily.

"Which is the perfect day for house hunting," he said cheerfully.

Lois looked up at him, standing at the foot of the bed.

She threw a pillow at him.

Then the alarm clock.

They both bounced off effortlessly.

"Ow," he said matter-of-factly.

She looked at him again.

"That didn't hurt you. Come on. You take cosmic-sized punches to the face daily, babe."

Clark rubbed his head.

"It hurt more than you think."

She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever."

He then proceeded to pull the covers off the bed in one swift motion.

She yelped in protest, trying to hold onto the sheets.

She didn't win.

"That... was unnecessary," Lois said, glaring at him.

He shrugged.

"Worked didn't it?"

Sitting up, she put her feet over the bed, reluctant to touch the cold wood floor.

She let a foot touch, then immediately brought it back to the warm bed.

Lois gave Clark a look that said, "You know what to do.".

He walked over and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her out the bedroom.

"What would you like for breakfast?" he asked, as her gaze still tore through him.

She huffed a sigh.

"Coffee. Maybe some eggs. And some toast."

She thought for a minute.

"Maybe some cheetos and some chocolate chip ice cream as well," she added sweetly.

He gave her a confused look.

Then shrugged and continued through the living room.

He smiled at her beautiful face.

"Okay. You got it, babe."

She traced a finger along his chiseled jaw, still in her husband's arms.

Also, currently her chauffeur.

"You know, you're lucky you're hot, Smallville," she replied playfully.

Then she kissed him—fully and passionately.

"You don't know how lucky, Lois."

He kissed her back and carried her into the kitchen, the sunlight breaking through the massive apartment window.

Yep. Pretty darn lucky.

[infinitebuilder]

"Coffee" and Booze

I hate him. But I can't admit that I love him either.

Dammit, I need a drink. Again.

Trish says I drink too much.

I tell her I don't drink enough.

Not enough to escape the hell I've lived with for so long.

But he helped with that, a little.

I no longer hate myself as much.

For now.

I'm sure it will return, like a damn cold.

Josie's. Quaint little place.

Actually, I lied.

Place sucks.

But so does the city, so it fits right in.

Anyway, what the hell was I even going on about? Oh. Right. Him.

The mountain standing behind the bar.

Chatting up the customers like they're old friends.

I don't care.

I go through the motions of conversation, pretending I give a damn about their feelings.

I don't.

But him.

Why him?

I approach the bar. Order something to dull the senses.

Knock them back, one after another.

He's talking to me now.

Why are you talking to me?

He doesn't seriously think I make good decisions does he?

I ask him if he wants coffee, offering to buy. He says he doesn't like the stuff.

That's weird.

Everyone likes coffee.

We exchange glances.

Uh oh.

I know that look.

Well, what the hell?

What's one more bad decision?

I wake up in a bed that's not mine.

Oh. Yeah, I forgot about that.

We had "coffee".

He's nowhere to be seen.

Oh no. His bed is broken.

Did I do that? Or did he?

I don't even remember.

My phone is buzzing by my ear.

I don't need to look.

I know who it is—Trish.

She won't leave me alone.

Wait?

Was I supposed to meet her today?

Oh. Yeah. I was.

That's why she's calling now, probably.

Probably saying to herself "Why did Jess agree to meet if she wasn't gonna show? Did she forget? Most likely."

I was busy. That's why I'm late Trish.

Didn't get a last name, but I did get his first—Luke.

Nice. Noble. Hot.

I should probably pay for a new bed.

Least I can do.

But, money is kinda tight.

And booze ain't free.

Oh, well.

I collect my things and leave.

I take a look at the broken frame and tilted mattress as I go.

Huh. Maybe not the worst decision I've made this week.

[infinitebuilder]

Meditation

My hand is trembling. Stop it.

That's weakness—to feel.

My Master does not tolerate weakness.

He prefers results.

Otherwise, the penalty is death—brought forth by my hand.

So, why do I keep seeing her face?

Orange and white, with blue markings.

She's part of my past.

And so is the old man—I suppose he's old now.

Stop thinking about the past!

Clear your mind.

A knocking on the chamber.

That damn trooper.

A message from the Admiral?

Fine.

Meditation will have to wait.

And as my helmet is fastened back into place, I take an artificial breath.

I exit the chamber, her image still in my mind—Snips.

[infinitebuilder]

Under The Couch

Shadows moved across the room—moving closer, then away.

Watching these silhouettes dance across the wood floor, he felt sad.

All he wanted, was to be noticed.

To be acknowledged.

To be found.

A voice called out—feminine from the sound.

"Did you grab your toothbrush? Rodney!" The voice grew louder, sounding agitated.

"Did you grab your toothbrush?"

Another voice—younger.

Sounded like a male.

"Yes mom!" Rodney yelled.

"Don't forget it! Your soap and shampoo either!" she reminded him.

"Mom" was now muttering to herself.

He heard something like—"somebody had to be responsible for Rodney, because Steve sure wasn't."

Who was Steve?

Someone Mom didn't have a high opinion of, was his guess.

Suddenly, loud stomping sounds echoed off the wood stairs—resonating through the floor, into the living room where he lay.

That must've been Rodney.

Where was he going with all this stuff?

He listened again.

"Be good. Okay?" Mom's voice, spoken in a soothing tone.

"Okay, Mom." Suddenly, his voice changed pitch—Rodney sounded excited!

"He's here! Dad's here!"

It sounded like he was jumping up and down now, excitement overtaking him.

"Yeah. I know." Mom's voice was harder now, but still motherly.

"Can I go? Can I? Huh?" Rodney asked, practically bursting with excitement.

"Yes." A beat.

"But mind your father, do you understand?" Mom sounded stern again.

"Yes ma'am!" Rodney said, still excited.

A sound, like wet lips, maybe?

A kiss.

He guessed she kissed his forehead.

He could barely hear her now.

She must've been whispering.

He thought she said: "I love you."

That must've been correct, because Rodney responded with,

"I love you too. Bye."

"Bye." Mom said back.

Then a peculiar sound:

Like crying maybe?

Mom was crying?

Why?

He thought about it.

Here he was in a dark environment, not able to see what's going on.

He should be the one that's sad.

But he wasn't. He was glad.

If Rodney was excited to be with his dad, and he had a happy family, then maybe he didn't need him after all.

Maybe he was content.

That was fine.

As he pondered this, a realization hit him: Where was Red?

Last he remembered, they were together, but now—gone.

He needed to find her.

Only—he couldn't move.

Rodney, or Mom could help, but they wouldn't hear his cries.

Where had Red gone?

They'd always been together—Rodney called them the perfect pair.

But, oh well.

He'd find her eventually, if someone ever found him.

In this dark place.

At least the floor was cool—wood floors always were.

He wanted to be found.

Wanted to find Red.

Maybe he'd be trapped here.

Life was rough for a missing sock.

[infinitebuilder]

Sallie

The raindrops fell silently on the window pane.

He hated the rain.

The cold nights.

It reminded him of sadder days.

Of when she left.

Just up and walked away. No explanation.

His friends told him not to cry. He didn't listen.

She was his whole world, especially after the people in town treated him like the mud on their shoe.

Some homecoming.

Soldiers never got their flowers.

Not in a way that matters.

They told him to go defend the country.

What they didn't tell him was how to live when he got back.

He sighed, watching the clouds drift lazily in the sky—like they didn't care about his problems.

Nobody did though.

Except Sallie.

Sallie cared.

She was always there.

Until she wasn't.

One day he came home, and she was gone.

He tried to picture her— Brown hair.

Beautiful blue eyes.

His thoughts drifted back, memory flashing like an old film reel.

The two of them on the couch—Sallie's head on his lap, gazing up at him with those crystal blue eyes of hers.

He'd gently caress and kiss her head softly.

He'd hear the soft padding of her footsteps, coming upstairs to wake him in the mornings.

Coming through the door and planting kisses all over him.

Love. She had so much.

That set him off again.

Sure, he could always have another.

But there was only one Sallie.

One.

Nothing hurt like losing her.

Where she'd gone, he didn't know.

Maybe somebody came and stole her away.

The house wouldn't be the same without her.

Empty. Hollow. Lonely.

She was the best dog a man could have.

[infinitebuilder]

The Fight

Blood fell from his face in drops.

If you listened real close, you could hear them hit the mat—for the crowd watching was silent.

Sowl struggled to his feet, spitting blood to the side.

His face looked like he'd been stung by an entire hive of bees.

The big man across from him laughed loudly.

"You can't do it! You'll never beat me!"

Sowl leaned against the ropes, his body begging for oxygen and rest.

He denied it still.

Round 13, and he'd already been knocked down twice.

The second time, he was struggling to remember who he was.

In a moment of clarity, whether divinely inspired, or his own heart refusing to stop, he struck upward with all the power he could muster.

The fist connected hard, shattering the big man's jaw instantly.

Then he toppled over—like a great oak succumbing to gravity—and hit the mat with an audible thud.

The crowd came alive with a roar.

Sowl did the impossible.

They said he couldn't do it.

That he'd be beaten all over the ring and collapse in the first round.

But he proved them all wrong.

Today, he'd beaten Doubt.

His next fight?

Fear.

[infinitebuilder]

The Mirror

Felanie looked into the mirror—her daily routine.

Some would call it vain.

Others, conceited.

She'd call them nosy idiots.

Getting prepared for the day, Felanie noticed something... different with her reflection today.

Normally, she'd be talking herself up to finally approach her boss and get that promotion.

"Who knows? Maybe this time." she thought confidently.

She'd already been sleeping with him for weeks... and he hadn't told his wife about it.

She hated it.

Not the sex—the lying, and having to sell herself to be noticed.

It sickened her!

But she couldn’t find worth any other way.

These thoughts were racing through her mind, when she noticed her hand wasn't matching the action in the mirror.

"What the hell?" she said, toothbrush between her teeth.

She spat in the sink.

The reflection remained still—like a statue.

What was going on?

Starting to panic, she slowly put her hand in front of her face and waved—the mirror just showed her standing.

Then, the reflection changed.

Felanie stopped moving—just for a moment.

The mirror didn't.

Panic-stricken now, she gazed into the mirror.

What she saw horrified her—a bruised, beaten, bloody version of herself.

And it blinked.

When Felanie didn't.

She screamed—but it was too late.

The woman in the mirror reached its broken, disfigured hand out—grabbing her suddenly by the throat.

Felanie tried everything to make the thing let go, but nothing worked.

Its grip actually tightened.

Losing air, she did the only thing she could—she struggled against it.

"I'm sorry! I can't live like this anymore! Whatever this is, whatever you are, I'm sorry!" she pleaded desperately.

It didn't budge.

The woman actually smiled.

Felanie clawed at the thing that held her, desperately trying to make this nightmare stop.

"I'll be different now! Forgive me!! Make it stop!" she sobbed, still unable to breathe.

Her vision began to darken—spots forming.

This was it.

This was where she died.

Without warning, the hand let go.

It moved back into the mirror—her reflection returned to normal.

It now matched her.

She moved her hand to her throat, blinking in surprise and terror.

The mirror did the same.

She stared deeply into it again, studying the reflection.

Felanie saw herself differently now.

A confident woman in expensive lingerie, stared back at her.

She cried.

"Thank you," she whispered to whoever would listen.

She now knew what to do.

What she must do.

If her job didn't see her as anything other than boobs and submission, then she didn't need that job.

She smirked, grabbing her phone—punching in Chad's number.

She heard him pick up.

"Hello... Chad? Yes, this is your favorite little fluff muffin. Yeah. Yeah. Hey, guess what? Yeah, a surprise," Felanie said in mock excitement.

"Yeah, I know you like surprises. Mhmm. Huh? What's the surprise?" she said in her most seductive voice.

She rolled her eyes at his response.

"Well...I QUIT, you womanizing jerk!" she screamed into the phone.

"Also, I'm telling your wife." she snapped, with a confident fire.

Without another word, she defiantly closed the flip-phone with a satisfying "click".

She was free.

Needed a new job now, but that was a problem for later.

Felanie then focused on getting ready for a day on the town with her girlfriends.

Stopping a moment to look in the mirror, she wiped away the tears.

The reflection did the same.

Enjoyed this story?

Consider tipping the author on Cash App—$PH1L413