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    Mzzkc's Mind Games

    Hiya! Welcome to my inner sanctum. You'll find snacks and cookies on the left; the bathroom is on your right. Upstairs is where the scary things live. Don't go up there; I already called dibs.

    1. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 06-26-2013 at 05:39 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      Enough (DILD)

      The waves came in hard, sweeping me off my feet. Swimming against the tide at an angle, I try to regain my footing near the shore, but the unusually steep dropoff made things exceptionally difficult. The best I can manage is to grab hold of my baby sister’s raft and circle my father who hadn’t been phased by the tide.


      I make chase. Through the palace, the ramparts, the temple--merely a game. By the end, I’ve claimed two of the three boars...but I had never been invited to play.


      A crowd had gathered. My father lay upon the throne, sword through his throat, feast laid before him--still alive. Tears hit my cheeks and anger welled from the pit of my stomach. The culprit stood near my dying father, cold, emotionless--I understood why. Falling to my knees at his side, he managed a smile, telling me not to worry, he had been bested and that was that. But I in turn consoled him, pledging vengeance, pledging to finish what he started, assuring him of my abilities.

      And so I turned to the warrior without a name, the warrior who possessed skill enough to slay my father... The challenge I set forth: first to seven hits, or last alive. Solemnly, he agrees, pulling another sword from his side. I grab a pillow sitting beside the throne. In a flash he strikes, slashing high--jugular to hip. I step out, parry with the pillow, and push away. A quick turn precedes his follow-up, but I’ve already trapped the reverse-handed strike, allowing me to parry again and make a hit on his midsection. “Hit,” I clarify, now standing a few paces away, pillow in hand.

      Surprised, he takes a more cautious approach, circling me slowly. “You don’t know what I can do.” I tease, almost mockingly, before teleporting behind him. But he’s ready for it, dodging my feathery attack while launching his own counter. I jump back, putting us both right where we started.

      Dropping the pillow, I broaden my stance and stomp the ground forcefully, tossing up a few small stones into the air. With a few quick jabs, the stones fly towards him; two make contact. “Hit. Hit.” Sensing an opening, he closes in, but I move backwards gracefully, bending water from the earth to deflect his blows. I flick my fingers. “Hit,” and again “Hit,” the water splashes against his face.

      Clearly flustered, he fights water with water, pulling it from the earth as I had done. But I capture it in the air, whipping it around in a gust of wind: “Hit.” And that was that. He walks over to congratulate me on my win, sword still in hand, but then I remember, That was only six. Before he can end it in a single blow, I teleport into a flanking position and strike him with another pebble, sealing my victory and fulfilling my pledge...
    2. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 10-20-2010 at 03:53 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)

      Most of you probably didn't notice the removal of one of my five star entries recently. I took it down because I was using it as a base for a school project. Today, I present the result of that project in Dream Journal Format. Enjoy.

      The Way The World Ends: Special Edition (Non-lucid)

      Thoughts, silently drifting atop an ocean of blackness, play in my mind. Flashing images, darting under supple waves of nothing, form together to create new and exciting visions. Drifting slowly toward sleep, the onset of a dream is upon me. The shift into the dream-state is sudden, yet subtle. . . .

      Everyone gets a test. Crap, I whisper inwardly. The answers were just on the board, but my recall is hazy, murky. I struggle, fighting through my memories like one would against a powerful current, but—realization strikes me abruptly. With great haste, I record my revelation.
      “Soul: The agent that binds humanity together.”
      “Biology: The genetic force that drives humans apart. Often incites violent conflicts.”
      I ponder, deeply, the implications of these definitions, likening soul to an archaic ideal and biology—difference, technology—to humankind’s present outlook. In today’s world, with its holographic displays and galaxy-wide communication, hardly anyone believes in the existence of a soul. Clearly, technology has ascended to fill our need to connect with one another, making souls obsolete. And yet, something is missing, something one can’t get from behind a dim glowing screen. Without this crucial piece, our physiological differences rise to the surface, and we begin to look upon those unlike ourselves with disdain and contempt. Even the best of us fall prey to this reality.

      The proof is here in this classroom full of geniuses. Each of us, raised in a world of cold circuitry and wire, place ourselves above this guest-lecturer who had the nerve to test us. More than that, none of us, save myself, are afraid to show it. One student in particular vocalizes the intellectual disparity between the professor and her students using several colorful metaphors, and I can’t help agreeing with him.

      Without warning, the dream changes. Our test is over, and my class is headed back to Earth, yet no one celebrates our return. A sea of nuclear warheads is descending upon us, dropping through the same atmosphere we are. This is it: the end of everything. My peers look at me; their dark, motionless eyes stare blankly. All hope has left them.

      I extend a shield of energy around those close to me as the nukes hit ground. Fallout descends upon us, drowning the air in a blood-red hue, buffeting my shield, heating it beyond the realms of human survival. The world outside my bubble is dead, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I think I failed the test.

      Updated 10-20-2010 at 06:15 AM by 25167

      non-lucid , memorable