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Rich and Complex Characters - The Positive and Negative

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Rich and Complex Characters - The Positive and Negative

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Positive = Always positive
Negative = Always positive

As the screams of excitement surrounded me, I knew everything would be okay. Neither the explosive celebration surrounded me, surely due to us winning the war like the government told us. They must have won so completely that they decided with the extra bombs they would use them in both renovation of the capital's town square. Buildings fell quite frequently and I felt really thankful that the government was spending our money as well as it always does. They must have had quite a bit of money saved up because this was going to be an expensive project. Money probably was in abundance though, when we took over the banks and natural resources. Now that I look up at the celebratory jets floating through air without noise, the image of the opponents flag finally dawned upon me. We weren’t even using our own equipment! They must have taken over the vehicles and given us a large amount of military power! I am so glad that our country was durable enough to defeat the opponent after they had spread themselves thin when they took over a couple of our cities. Perhaps when this celebration is over, my new house would be perfect for me, surely. I was always told to raise my expectations when trying something new! So I hope my new house has a roof this time! The last one had street access and was between two very popular stores. They even give me free food sometimes. As I stand looking up from the very center of the city, I see a soldier approaching me, but I don’t recognise the uniform. But when they talk to me I realize I don’t understand their words. “Sorry, I am not a foreigner, you can just talk to me in our language!” I say back with a smile, though I wasn’t not smiling before, just that I was smiling more when I say those words. The lovely people just sigh and escort me to an in-progress renovation of the capital house. Someone speaks to me then, when I wave to them with a smile. “How was your day sir?!” I say with a slight yell across the very large room. “Pretty good, I just won a war after all.” He says back with a sneer. How fun for him!

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Vocabulary from Yesterday - Guy Dude (unfinished)

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Vocabulary from Yesterday - Guy Dude (unfinished)

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Guy froze. He couldn’t believe they’d actually given a word above 10 letters. He should’ve expected this, it was the final round of the biggest spelling bee in the county after all, but Guy Dude could just not combat his Hippopotomonst- rosesquippedaliophobia. His mother had had it too, and when he was born she had settled on his rather odd name simply out of fear that anything longer would spook her daily. He had been born a healthy baby boy, and a nurse had decided to bumblingly suggest some name ideas for the young Dude couple, who had said that they had not yet chosen a name for their son. They had neglected to mention that this was because the one time Guy’s father Dan had presented a pamphlet of name ideas, Guy’s mother had fallen into a nervous, stuttering breakdown over “Alexander.”

“Too many syllables!!!” She had manically sobbed, and Dan Dude, a rather short real-estate salesman from the suburbs, taught to never press anyone too far, decided to leave the naming for after their son’s birth. Maybe it’d just come to them when the child arrived, he thought, not wanting to distress his pregnant wife.

“How about Christopher?” the nurse had said. When recounting this story to Guy, his mother had mumbled out the suggested name in a drawn out split of three parts, afraid that if she uttered the whole word, it’d be too scary to bear, and she’d fall into another nervous fit similar to when the doctor had diagnosed her with osteoporosis.

“It’s not so bad,” the doctor had said, “there are plenty of treatments for osteoporosis available nowadays.” But Mrs. Dude had already broken down into hard screams from the springing sounds of “treatments” and “available” and of course, the dreaded, longest word, “osteoporosis”.

Guy’s mother had frozen in fear at the hospital, still clutching her unnamed newborn in her arms, and the nurse took her silence not as fear but as a moment of betweenity, and so, she suggested another name.

“I have an uncle with a rather lovely name,” she said, and Mrs. Dude relaxed at the stream of short words.

“Emmanuel.” the nurse put it out there. She was quite fond of her uncle, and what a nice thing it would be to tell him that someone had decided to name their baby after him!

Mrs. Dude froze. Oh too long, oh much too long! her brain had screamed.

The nurse, confused at her patient’s wide-eyed silence, simply raised an eyebrow and said “if it’s not to your taste—“

Mrs. Dude came out of her freeze at the return to one-syllable beauties and shook her head, looking down at the baby in her arms. At that moment, a doctor sprinted down the hallway after some runaway patient, and it was a moment of bliss and harmony (though she would’ve never referred to it as such a long word of course) for Mrs. Dude.

“Stop that guy!” The doctor had yelled, and Mrs. Dude became entranced with the punchy, monosyllabic beat of his words. So short, so crisp.

“Guy… what a nice name that would be.” said Mrs. Dude. “Not a nickname in sight… just a guy.”

And here Guy was now, 27 years old, futzing around on the stage, unsure if he could even utter a peep, how scared he was at the word the judge had presented. That was how Guy had lost himself the competition and the $2,000 he needed to make rent this month. He didn’t make much money as a cook at Ann’s Food Shop, afraid to even apply for a job with too long of a title like a carpenter or a construction worker or a barista. He shuddered inwardly just thinking of having to announce his occupation to anyone. He had almost become a computer engineer, under the guise that it was called a “Tech Guy” and that he thought was funny. Guy the Tech Guy, so short and sweet and funny. But when he had received the application, it had listed the position as a computer engineer and the panic had set in. He had simply thrown the paper away. He didn’t even want to think about it.

Now, Guy had landed himself at Bill’s Bar, much simpler than Eugene’s or Mr. Roberito’s, parked on a stool, three drinks down into the night. He was calling over the man behind the bar to grab himself a fourth, feeling his savings dropping into the black hole that was his wallet. He wasn’t making rent this month, he knew that. He’d get kicked out of his apartment—he shivered. His rooms, his rooms, he assured himself—he knew it. But tonight he was gonna drink his way down. He’d spend all his money. He’d end the night a nillionaire on the streets, and then, at least, he could beg like a proper urchin. God, he felt bad. Awful was too long a word, but the drink made him long for just a hit of self-destruction, and he tested it out on his tongue. Awful. Horrible. Deplorable. Oh God, those words felt bad.

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You find strange muddy footprints leading to your door:

When I woke up this morning something felt dark and grim.  I live in a cabin near the woods in Maine, I like the wilderness and the calmness of my yard.  It provides me with a safe space for my thoughts.  Last night it was highly stormy though, and I had a feeling like something was wrong.  I tried to shake the feeling and go to bed but I knew someone was out there trying to get after me.  This morning I got up to make coffee and breakfast but that feeling was still there.  I got some things done around the house and once I was done I wanted to take the rest of my coffee outside on the porch with me.  As I reached down to the door handle a shiver got sent down my spine, and all the hairs on my neck shot straight up.  That should’ve been my warning, and I should’ve stayed inside but I continued.  Not knowing that was going to be the biggest mistake of my life.  As I slowly jiggled with the door handle my intuition told me to stop yet, I continued.  When I got outside everything seemed nice and calm until I looked down.  Big muddy footprints were leading from my pathway to the doorstep.  As soon as I saw them I ran back inside and locked all the windows and doors, and pulled the shades down.  My best option was to call my brother so that's what I did.
“Cooper you have to come over now”

“Come on Jess what is it this time?  You're not going to drag me all the way there for a loose screw again are you?”

“No it's serious this time, you gotta believe me”.

“Ok, what is it?”

“There are huge muddy footprints leading to my doorstep.  I don’t know what to do I’m scared I’ve had a bad feeling since last night”.

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On her deathbed, your grandmother tells you that there’s a hidden treasure buried in her backyard. The family has been trying to locate it for decades. It’s up to you to finally find it.

For years the rumor of the treasure has been brought up at every single family dinner, thanksgiving, Christmas. I've started to just not believe it. But everyone else strongly believes it. They think that if they find the treasure we will all be famous or something. My dad has tried for years to dig it up, he's spent thousands of dollars and even dug up the whole backyard. Another reason I don't believe there's anything is because he would've found it by now. Its always a huge debate of who's gonna find it and my dads brother doesn't even talk to him anymore because of it. Let's go back to the start of all of this, my grandma Ella has always talked about the treasure and so did my Grandpa before he passed. But, they have failed to tell us where it is. Now that Ella is sick everyone has been pressuring her to tell. I can tell she's never gonna tell my dad or anyone because she doesn't think they deserve it. I've always been super close with her and she told me one day I would find it. Of course I never believed it. But, the other day the Nurses called me in because she was declining fast. She whispered in my ear where the treasure was. It shocked me at first and I again didn't think it was real. It made sense that it was in the one place no one had ever looked. The koi pond. It took me days to think about this because I was very skeptical. I also had no idea how I was going to dig up the koi pond without anyone knowing. That was the one thing grandma wanted, she didn't want me to tell anyone and of course I wasn't going to. A few weeks after grandma passed we were selling her house and I knew time was running out. But so did everyone in my family. They would come for hours looking and nothing. So late one night the moon was hardly shining through the trees. I went out and started to dig. The koi were moved over to my house so I didn't have to deal with that. For hours there was nothing and I was convinced I was never going to find it. But, I really wanted to try for grandma because I know she would never lie to me. So a few more hours passed and the morning doves began to sing. Right when I was about to pack up and leave my shovel hit something. At first I thought there was no way it's just a rock. I look down and see a gold piece shining up at me. I'm thinking to myself no way grandma hid gold bars under the koi pond. Of course she did, she always loved gold.

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In a quiet corner of a bustling city, there lived a person named Charlie. Charlie was known far and wide for their infectious laughter and uncanny ability to make others smile. With a quick wit and a joke always at the ready, he was the life of every gathering, the heart of every party. His friends and acquaintances couldn’t help but adore him, drawn to the warmth of their laughter like moths to a flame.

But behind the facade of constant mirth lay a different truth, one that only a select few were privy to. Charlie was plagued by a deep-seated insecurity that had taken root in their heart long ago. It was a darkness he could never quite escape, a heavy burden that he carried silently, hidden beneath layers of humor.

Charlie's life had been a series of masks, each one more elaborate than the last. From a young age, he had discovered that  making people laugh was the surest way to gain acceptance and love. So, they became the class clown, the office jester, and the life of every party. He reveled in the attention and the laughter that surrounded him, but it was a double-edged sword.

As the years went by, Charlie found himself trapped in a cycle of seeking validation through laughter. He couldn’t bear the thought of being alone with his thoughts, of facing the gnawing emptiness that lingered just beneath the surface. So, he kept the jokes coming, the laughter flowing, and the smiles painted on.

But the more he made others laugh, the more his own tears remained unshed. The weight of his insecurities grew heavier with each passing day, like an anchor pulling him deeper into the sea of his own despair. He longed for someone to see through the facade, to reach out and offer a lifeline, but he was trapped by his own creation.

One chilly evening, as the city lights twinkled in the distance, Charlie found himself alone in his dimly lit apartment. The laughter of the day had faded, replaced by the haunting silence of his own thoughts. The walls, once echoing with the merriment of others, now closed in around him.

Charlie sat in the stillness, tears finally streaming down his face. He realized that his constant quest to make others laugh had been a desperate attempt to fill the void within himself. He had hidden his true feelings for so long that he had almost forgotten who he was beneath the mask of humor.

In that solitary moment, Charlie made a choice. He decided to seek help, to confront his insecurities, and to learn to find genuine happiness without relying on the laughter of others. It was a long and challenging journey, but he was determined to rediscover his true self and to heal the wounds that had been buried for so long.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Charlie began to share his inner struggles with a therapist, slowly peeling away the layers of humor that concealed his pain. It was a difficult process, but with each step forward, he felt a little lighter, a little more free.

Over time, Charlie had learned that true happiness didn’t come from making others laugh but from accepting himself, flaws and all. He discovered that vulnerability was not a weakness but a strength, and that the genuine connections he formed when he allowed others to see his true self were far more precious than the shallow laughter of a thousand jokes.

And so, Charlie began to heal, one tear at a time, one moment of authenticity at a time. HE realized that he could still bring joy to others through his humor, but it was no longer a desperate need for validation; it was a gift freely given from a heart that had learned to love and accept itself.

In the end, Charlie’s story was not just a sad one; it was a story of resilience and transformation,a testament to the power facing one’s insecurities and finding the strength to be authentically, beautifully, and unapologetically himself.

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“The doctor walked in, her face red with zero expression on her face. She looked as if she was hiding something. She was. She said it laconicly didn’t add any details she just let it hit me, “Michael you have cancer.” If I was standing my stomach would have dropped to my feet. My body went numb. I was eschew, I didn’t want to know the answer to my next question. But at the same time I had to, it would hurt but I needed to know. “What do I do? Chemo? Surgery?”

“It’s cancer of the liver. Normally without treatment you would have six to eight months and by the look of the scans it looks like your life would be very ephemeral. You have about a month or two left Michael. Chemo may help but I want you to think first.” My eyes began to tear up. I’m gonna die. She gave more details and millions of papers to look at. “Thanks Doc, I’ll let you know what I’ll do.” I said, grabbing my coat and walking out.

I didn’t want to tell my wife. I didn’t want to see her when I told her. I can’t imagine her reaction. And my kids, oh god my kids. They wouldn’t know what to think. It's such a conundrum. My family will be ruined. It wasn't fair if I didn't tell them though.

I was sitting at the head of the table where I normally sit, soon to be empty. My kids weren't here. They had soccer. I scratched the fork through my potatoes like I was six again. “Honey what’s wrong?” My wife asked.  “Oh, nothing Clara.” I said shoving a scoop of potatoes in my mouth. They made me feel sick. I wasn’t hungry. “So I went to the doctors today about my back right,” she nodded. “Well they did some scans and my back is fine,” she smiled I cut her off before she could speak “but they found something else. Clara. I have cancer.” she turned pale. Almost as white as the plate infront of her. “What?” she said with her voice all trembly, she was starting to cry. She never cries. “Liver cancer, a month or two left.” I kept it short so I didn’t choke on the lump in the back of my throat.

“I don’t know if I wanna do chemo. Won’t it make me feel like shit?”

“Yeah but it can save your life.”

“I know, but I don’t know.”

“You mean you don’t wanna save your own life?”

“No, it’s just I don’t know much about it. I should call the doctors for more details. I don’t wanna make this huge decision when I’m a ultracepdarian. I don’t even know what’s going on inside my body, the doctor said I've had it for months now.”

The next day I called the doctor and she gave me all the details she could. I decided to do the surgery and start chemo after that. It was a long journey but I did it. I made it out on top. Now I’m cancer free. Here at this meeting with all of you, telling you, you can do it too. “Anybody else want to share?”’ I asked the people in my cancer support group.

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He was starstruck by her from the first time he saw her. He knew he had to know her. He would do whatever it took to know her. His limerence lasted months before he even said his first word to her. It was in the school parking lot when he said hello to her. They were in completely different social cliques so she didn’t even bat an eye at him. She was the head cheerleader, dating the football quarterback/captain, and he was a loner who no one knew. She smiled lightly and headed back to talking to her friends. His attraction became an obsession very quickly. He yearned for when he’d be able to see her again in the halls. He dreaded the weekends because he knew he wouldn’t be able to see her. This was all until he started following her around. Waiting outside her car after school to watch her get in and drive away. He’d follow close behind to find out where she lives. His crush turned creepy within a matter of weeks. This situation caused a kerfuffle. She started getting worried and told her boyfriend about the incident. He walked over to the boy and threatened him. Telling him to stay away from his girlfriend or else he’d have a price to pay. The loner boy turned nefarious faster than you could blink. He started getting aggressive. Leaving the girl scary notes in her locker and on her car windshield. The girl brought it to the school but since she had no evidence that it was actually the boy, they couldn’t do anything about it. This was an incendiary issue that could not be avoided. No matter how hard the girl tried, the boy always found out what she was doing. On the night of the homecoming football game, the girl was getting ready in her room with some friends. Her parents were downstairs watching T.V. waiting for the girls to finish. All of a sudden, the girls heard a loud bang from outside the window. They were scared but didn’t think much of it. As they continued getting ready, they heard a scream and a pop from the living room. Nervously, the girls slowly crept out of the girls bedroom. They walked around the corner to the living room and saw a man with a mask holding a gun. One of the girls let out a shriek which caused the man to see them all behind the wall. He started talking about how if he couldn’t have the girl then no one could. As the girl looked around the room she saw her two parents lying lifeless on the floor. She started crying, begging for her life. The man told her this all could have been avoided if she had just given him a chance to love her. He walked closer to the girls. They were all too stunned to move, partly because they were scared of the gun and partly because they had nowhere to run to. The boy slowly lifted his gun and pointed it at the girl. She kept hysterically crying and begging for him not to shoot. She told him everything he wanted to hear. That she would love him and forgive him and it would all be okay.

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“What’s up guy’s! Today I'm going to spend twenty-four hours in Walmart!” He yelled at the camera, “That's right, I’m going to be going to a Walmart and spend the entire day there, guys!” multiple sound effects and filters flashed on the screen to keep the attention of the children that made up his audience. The camera was then shut off. Morgz, a multi million subscriber children’s youtuber, stared into the lens of his camera and looked into his own eyes in the reflection. He took a second to reflect on his career choice, and then looked around at his luxurious home and decided it was worth it. He sighed and turned off the ring light behind him, and attached a small mic to his camera. He proceeded to walk around his home, pointing the camera at his own face and talking loudly. Then he shut his camera off and spontaneously changed his entire demeanor. He took his camera into his car, and set it up from the passenger’s seat view and recorded himself talking to a machine. Sometimes he thinks about how dystopian it really is. To be completely alone but simultaneously be  talking to millions of people. To have no friends and yet so many children on the internet idolize him. It makes him think about life and the way communication was intended. Through face to face conversation; by talking to someone and them talking back to you. However, he never allowed himself to look too closely at it or to think about it, but as his channel rockets in views, he becomes more disappointed and guilty with himself for profiting off of a character he created for money and attention. When he watches his footage, he knows that is not who he is or how he acts, and yet he still wonders if he were to truly become that persona, if it would make him less lonely.

He records himself walking into Walmart, causing many people to look at him. He’s always loved attention but he knows they look for the wrong reasons. He pretends not to notice them and end’s the recording before a worker confronts him. “If I don't want to get caught, I’m going to have to find a really good hiding spot!” He walked down the paper towel/ toilet paper aisle and pointed the camera toward it. “I think this is the spot guys! I’m going to make a giant fort and sleep in it!” He then pointed the camera back at himself and shushed the device as if the children on the other end were there with him. Maybe he pretended there was someone there with him for the purpose of the video, or maybe he just wished there really was someone there. He moved the toilet paper aside and made it into an enclosed space he could fit in. “I made a bed, but it’s not time yet so I’m gonna go look around for things to help me survive the night!” He recorded himself walking around the store and grabbing things like candy and energy drinks. He paid for the junk food and returned to the fort. He changed the time on his phone to be later in the day and showed the camera, pretending it was night time. He made the fort as dark as possible and planned on editing the outside light peeking through the cracks. “Okay guys, as you can see it’s around nine P.M and the sun has already set. I’m going to talk a little quiet so they don’t find me.” He giggled, “so, I’ve been sitting here and I’m gonna be back when they’re about to close.” Once again he changed the time on his phone. This time, he opened the shot with a whisper, “It’s currently 10:57 pm and the Walmart is going to close in 3 minutes!”

Morgz continued to record and pretended he was spending the night inside Walmart. Afterward, he emerged from the fort, alarming the woman shopping in that area, and left. He threw his camera into the seat and drove home in silence. He did not bother to put music on or to even roll down his window and listen to the sound of the wind. He got home and worried his content was going to fail. He worried his success was temporary and soon his videos would start dying and he will be forgotten.

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Thomas loves attention yet seems to always be forgotten by the people around him. He talks loudly to make himself more unique yet no one ever cares to listen to him. He’ll make his body language more bombastic, sticking his chest out and waving his arms around yet no one  glances in his direction. He craves attention like no other man on the planet yet he feels invisible even to his friends and family. His hopes and dreams, his good days and bad days, his acts of courage or fear, all forgotten within a day or two. Every morning he goes to the same coffee shop with the same gorgeous barista that can’t ever quite remember his name. He walks to work alone interacting with people along the way yet most ignore him and the people that do talk to him do it out of pity. He feels like the whole world is scheming against him just to make him feel unwanted, yet he knows the truth. He clocks in at his office job everyday stuck in an endless loop of boredom and sadness. Only to go home to no pets, no girlfriend, and no family. He spends his free time playing video games alone trying to squeeze out any dopamine he might have left just to feel happy again. Finally when it's late and even he has forgotten who he was he falls asleep just to wake up tomorrow and do the same thing again.

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vocabulary from yesterday- Taylor Roderick 

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vocabulary from yesterday- Taylor Roderick 

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Nobody ever dared to go into the abandoned house on the end of Elm street. The house was dark and wonky. The dead trees and weeds outside made the whole place look colorless. Paint peeled off the shutters and mold grew on the side of the house. The creaky door led to the sonorous quietness the house projected. Only a lummox would dare to go in. In an intense game of truth of dare I got dared to go in. I made my friend Max go with me so I wouldn't have to be alone. The moment I walked in the door I was hit with a rancid smell. I pulled my hoodie up over my nose since it was so indispensable. As I made my way through the creaky old house I was flabbergasted to see someone sitting in a chair. Someone that looked a little too familiar. I shined my flashlight towards them and that's when I realized, the person was me.

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IMAGERY, SETTING, SENSORY DETAILS-One place that I love is the beach. It feels like my happy place. There is never a dull moment there ever. The beautiful crystal water with the hot and messy sand. There are a bunch of reasons why we love the beach. It is a great place to hangout with friends and family. The bright burning sun will beat down on you with the obnoxious seagulls and the screaming of the little kids. Sometimes it can be very annoying if you are trying to relax but really it is what makes the beach such an amazing place. The water is also extremely salty. My favorite feeling is after the beach going home and taking a nice hot shower and it just feels incredible. The beach in my opinion is very draining. Whenever I get home from a day at the beach, I don’t know why but I feel very tired and whipped out. The beach takes all my energy from me. It is a great thing to do and experience plus it is free. You don’t have to pay for anything unless you get some food but it is a very cheap and good idea for a beautiful summer day. But my favorite part of the beach are the gorgeous sunsets you see after a long day of having fun. The pretty colors in the sky. You see orange, yellow, pink, sometimes red and purple. It's just amazing to spend time doing. You will never regret it at all. It is super relaxing and you just forget about all of your problems that you have going on in life. You just hear the calm waves while watching the amazing sky with the people you love. Me typing this makes me feel like I am currently at the beach just typing this story. I wish I was if I was completely honest but instead I am typing this at a school desk with a bunch of kids around me doing the same assignment. Some of them may choose what I am doing and some may not. Some may write the same thing I am writing and some may not. But back to the beach. They have the most delicious food ever. You can get fries, chicken tenders, burgers, pizza, ice cream, and so much more. I love getting some chicken tenders and fries. It just hits the spot and it will never disappoint if I am being completely honest with you. I definitely recommend getting some if you never have. One of my favorite things to do while I'm here is to tan and just think about nature. I love just looking around and thinking I am so grateful that I get to live in a world this beautiful. Some people don’t get to experience this but I am really happy and grateful for that. I thank the wonderful god every single day.

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Sitting there watching their thinnest hand on the clock rotate around the number for what is a century. Everything around me was moving at normal speed but I sat there in slow motion. I tried sneaking my phone for a bit, eating, and staring at a wall, but nothing would help the time go by. I sat there in silence as I watched the teacher's mouth moving but nothing came out. My butt bones began to ache from sitting on the brick-hard, awfully textured desks. I do the work  I'm assigned which seems like it was the only thing that made five minutes feel like actually five minutes. Every twenty minutes that would go by, the little red line would only move on number. I’m in a dark hole I can’t escape. I wait and wait until finally after what feels like three hours the obnoxious ringing begins and it’s onto the next room to repeat the same process.

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I went on a late night walk and the only source of light were the street lights that were flashing and some that would stay on. The person I saw who I would describe as very lummox was walking down the street, He were stumbling and tripping over everything I wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. He were a couple feet in front of me so I was a good distance from him, I was absolutely flabbergasted when I had looked down and his legs were bent the complete other way. I didn’t mind it at first because maybe he was born that way so we just kept walking, but as we kept walking the man started to slow down. As he flipped his legs back the right way I let out a low gasp which made the man come to a abrupt stop, which made me come to a stop and I was completely silent. I had noticed that there were no cars around and as I turned to look behind me the street light were slowly going out, one by one. Once I turned back around the man was gone, so I started running like my life depended on it. I was terrified of the dark and being in the complete darkness I wouldn’t be able to handle it, then everything went black. I shut my eyes for a minute and then open them, it didn’t even look like I was outside anymore. It was like I was in a black pit, maybe even a black hole. All of a sudden I heard a high pitch sonorous sound, it screeched and screeched so loud I covered my ears, then it went quiet. I closed my eyes again and rubbed them, I couldn’t believe what I just heard and why I can’t see anything. I opened my eyes and I was back on the sidewalk but as I looked up I saw the street lights turning one by one. I thought I was safe, but I was wrong. The man started running full speed toward me from down the sidewalk, he looked like he had so much adrenaline. I was frozen still but then broke out in a indespendiable speed run down the opposite side of the sidewalk, I heard the footsteps getting faster and closer until i felt a hand grab me and a sharp pain going across my throat. As I lay on the ground bleeding out the guy covers my body with a white sheet then it all went black.

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Rich and Complex Characters-The positive and Negative- casey roth

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Rich and Complex Characters-The positive and Negative- casey roth

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Max confidence was evident in everything he did. Taking a test, speaking to his class, or winning a game he always believed in abilities to come out on top. His cockiness, however, often rubbed people the wrong way. Some people were intimidated, and others found it arrogant. Max never let this bother him. Max was very determined. He always did the very most to get the outcome he wanted. He was a straight A student, and a varsity athlete, which just influenced his personality more. He knew his worth and wasn’t sorry about it. Even his friends were intimidated by him.   Every hockey game, Max was the one to talk in the lockeroom before the game. His confidence did rub off on others.

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The air is fresh, but salty. My feet are sinking into the sand as shells peirce the bottoms of my feet. It hurts, but I don’t care. I’m used to it. My hair; which was once straight, is blowing in the air and becoming curly. I’m smiling but no one made me laugh. I’m crying but no one said anything rude or passive agressive. The ocean makes me feel like myself. I learned to swim in it as a baby.

I walk in and the sea foam is up to my ankles. My friends and I used to joke that it was whale guts. It’s just some bacterias and salt. I feel the water at my fingertips. All of the memories I have from when I was practically growing up in these waters are all rushing in. I could cry about it, but why spend your last time in your happiest place sad when you can soak it all in. I dive in. I feel the water slipping through my hair and skin. My mom used to tell me if I got a cut, the ocean would heal it. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve had some more serious cuts and scars, but the ocean still seems to heal them.

# data[].attributes.body
As the man stepped off the rocket ship in his puffy white suit, he stepped down into the soft, blue, grass-like vegetation. As he wiggled his feet from side to side in the grass he realized his feet were not weightless. He could lift them up and down side to side, he could feel the weight of his blood, his bones, his skin. If this planet had gravity, then surely it had an atmosphere. He swiftly pulled out a silver device from his back pocket, the device looked like a small phone with a very long metal prod sticking out from the top of it. He turned the device on from the round, rough button on the side and as its screen turned a bright white it made a small whirring sound, signaling its engine beginning to turn on. On the small silver device was a trackpad with arrows that pointed north, south, east, west. He clicked the south arrow to move the selection menu down the screen. On this menu was a collection of about fifty different gasses he could test for in the atmosphere and at what quantity. He selected the earth's atmospheric test option, and the machine began whirring again, the white loading screen reflecting off the glass of his space suit. He gasped as he read the result, 30% oxygen and 70% nitrogen, almost identical to that of earth's surface. Almost instantaneously he plopped the silver device back in his pocket and with two fingers on each of his hands clicked the two safety buttons on the neck of his suit, the one measure that kept his helmet locked to his mainframe. He clicked open the glass panel of the helmet and a strong scent of roses engulfed his nostrils. At least what he believed to be roses, maybe a different form of them exists on this planet. He knelt down to the strange, feathery looking vegetation. He took off his malleable gloves made out of steel. Technological advancements within the past few millennia have led to some pretty extraordinary discoveries. He plucked what could only be described as an indigo/blue feather mixed with a fern. In his hands he could hardly feel the structure of the plant because of its udder fragility and softness. The small branches of blue fluff that surrounded each stem of the plant seem to be small enough to move through each individual crease of skin on his fingers. Gently swiping away any dust or residue with one soft touch. He gently placed the plucked plant into a small plastic bag then plopped it back into his pocket where the silver device lay. Then with a click the material was safely enclosed. He continued on walking through this strange field, forming a path of his own as he gently crushed each of the plants before him as he explored. He gently stuck out each of his fingers and spread them wide, letting the soft feathers graze his hands. Closing his eyes he felt the cool temperature press up against his face and neck. For so long he was stuck in that stuffy suit and even longer yet, in that space station. So long had it been since he had breathed fresh air. Opening his eyes he shifted his attention to the sky. This planet, unlike earth, seems to have zero clouds in its atmosphere. And there was no light; it was just a sky full of twinkling lights bright enough to highlight each strand of these feathered plants. Exhausted from the day ahead he gently laid himself on the grass below letting the soft, surprisingly warm ground. Exhaling all the stress cooped up in his body, he let himself unwind. Quickly falling into a deep sleep underneath the stars of this strange, sweet, blue planet.

# data[].attributes.body
Voices overlapped each other, forming a buzz in my ears. The chair I was sitting on was hard. My eyes were closed, so I couldn’t focus on the people around me. The clock could no longer be heard, like only a moment before. My foot was tapping against the tile floor. The rhythm matched my heartbeat. I heard the teacher humming along to the music playing from a speaker. There was a tap on my shoulder that I ignored. The girl sitting at the desk behind me said my name. I could barely hear it. My focus was on the teacher, who was now singing along with the music, rather than humming. I couldn’t see him, because my vision was still black, but I heard the desk vibrate as he tapped his hands against it. The music got louder. So did my heartbeat. A wrapper crinkled beside me as someone unwrapped a candy bar. The smell of peanuts wafted into my nose. It reminded me of what I had for lunch. I didn’t want peanut butter and jelly. I was sick of it. My vacant expression was replaced with a purposeful pout. I heard the teacher tell someone to put their phone away. His voice was loud enough to make me open my eyes. I closed them again only a second later, deciding to ignore whatever complaint he had for the student who wouldn’t listen.

(this takes place at the end of class, when the work is done, so nothing important is happening and the character has nothing to do but sit there)

# data[].attributes.body
Beneath the silver moon, they would bibble and brabble

In the a forest so deep, where shadows would dabble

Amidst the argle-bargle it was a ebullient night

Beneath the stars’ gentle light

But beware the lurking lycanthropy’s spell

When shadows grow long and the night starts to swell

From human to beast, or so they might think

In the depths of the night, where darkness links

# data[].attributes.headline
Begin a Story With a "Given" First Line (unfinished)

# data[].attributes.subject
Begin a Story With a "Given" First Line (unfinished)

# data[].attributes.body
If I went there a second time: I would have walked right past him, without any regret. Nothing sickens me to the core more than the tan tall slender body of Fabio Garcia. The man in the trench coat, the man who enlightened my senses, who taught me the secrets to life.

I was hired to investigate a manifold of bizarre murders in the small town 10 miles of the border of Texas and Mexico… San Bueana. At first I was hesitant until the man, or woman, I wouldnt be able to say due to the hiree listed themselves as anonymous. Told me they would raise the pay of the investigation from $5,000 to $20,000. Looking back at it now I should have listened to my instincts that something wasnt quite right.

As you could tell; I accepted the deal. John Doe told me that I would be paid afterwards, but I insisted that if I was going to travel from Baltimore to this San Bueana I might as well receive some of the check, right? I got cash instead which really grew my suspicion but I knew I could back out now, the town was calling for me, I was the one who had to save it.

4:53 am: The train station was still empty except for the buzzing of the T.V on the wall projecting CNN journalists discussing the defeat of Iraqi forces. My attentioned drifted between the interview of Jarheads and the Janitor unlocking the bathrooms. “Why is the train so goddamn late?'' I murmered to myself, just as the thought dissolved in my head I noticed in the corner of my eye a man on the other side of the track, who didnt look a day older than 20 standing in the dry winter morning with what looked like a beaten up flannel, staring at me through the tall windows of the train station. Just as I turned my head to get a better look; the red paint-job locomotive arrived.

10:21 am: The train was just as desolate as the station. Although I found peace with the emptiness, an almost relaxing escape from the horrors of west Baltimore.

1:32 pm: The Appalachians, a place I used to travel to for the summer with my father for camping trips. If only I knew the horrors to come in the future of my life; back then, I was truly at peace…

“The Shaman has summonded you” says Athanu, I could only make up the Navajo’n face of the man in the sea of darkness, it seems I have lived my entire life with this man, we have conquered evil together; yet he is the one to summon me to the Shaman?

This meeting, I know it's important, but I dont feel ready for this duty. Nowhere near ready but I know I must.

A distant voice awakes me from the slumber. “Would you like anything to drink?” Says the snack attended, a young woman of polite manners and well blue dressed uniform, blonde hair that reaches for her elbows and a stout hat to finish the uniform. The woman could probably tell by the look on face because she asked if I would like any help. I insist that “everything is alright.” “I would kill for a coffee though, milk, no suger.” As she provides me the beverage and I pay her, the attendant moves to the next cart to serve the other people on the train, if anybody else is even on this train.

Orange hour: Atlanta. I get off the red train in the Amtrak Train Station; a step back in the hopeless reality of our world.

# data[].attributes.body
Tuesday was the day the tv stopped forever. I noticed firsthand, thinking nothing of it.
Maybe my network went out, it happens enough when there's a lot of wind. The second day,
Wednesday, it still wasn’t working. When I went into town, I asked around to see if everyone had
a similar problem. Now, I live in a very small town, in the middle of nowhere. We are used to
being in the dark, and to have news be slow. But I could feel this was different. Everyone in
town lost power too, and there was no explanation. When I arrived home, I flicked the tv’s power
switch, hoping to have some kind of sign, but there was still no power. I decided not to worry
about it, and went to bed. I shouldn’t have. I woke up at about 8:30, according to my watch. This
was when I realized this situation was worse than I ever could have expected. I opened my door
to the main room slowly, feeling a cold breeze from my door, which was wide open. I started
panicking, I was sure I shut the front door! I grabbed my shotgun from my mantle, and loaded 2
shells into the double barrel. Living this remotely, it's important to own a gun, most people here
own farms and there are many dangerous wildlife that will attack farm animals or people. I
cautiously crept out of the room, my finger off the trigger to ensure I wasn’t going to accidentally shoot anything. Immediately, I noticed the large claw marks on the door, with a huge chunk
missing in the door where the handle used to be. The rug in the main room was torn up, and the
room was in complete ruins. Then, I noticed it. There was a trail of blood leading upstairs. My
hands were shaking, as I looked up the stairs, expecting an injured man to be standing in the
hallway. There was nobody there. I made my way upstairs, trying to make as little noise as
possible. Once I got into the hallway, I followed the bloodtrail into the left bedroom, and then as I
opened the door, there was nothing in the room, the blood trail suddenly stopped. I looked
around, confused. What was happening? My head pounded as I ran downstairs to the phone. I
picked it up, but there was no noise. The phone lines were down. I started pacing around,
thinking of what I should do next. I then decided my best course of action should be to go to my
neighbors house, about half a mile down the road. I put my shotgun up on my mantle, because
appearing at someone's house with a shotgun doesn’t really send a great message. I lightly
kicked the front door open, and took a step outside. It was a foggy day, unusually foggy. That's
when I noticed all the cars piled up on the road. You see, I live on the outskirts of the town, so
the road I lived on led out of the town and to the highway, meaning my road and another road further west were the only roads leading out. This was my first indicator that what happened at
my house might not have been the only incident. All the cars were in a row, all trying to leave the
town. The line of cars must have been either a half or a full mile backed up on the road. The
scariest part of it was they were all off, and they were just stationary in a row. I approached one
of the cars, to see what could have happened. I got only a partial answer when I looked in
through the window. All I could see was the other window was broken, and there was blood
staining the back seat of the car. There appeared to be no one in the car. Once I saw the impact
of what happened, I went inside, grabbed my shotgun and some shells, and brought a
backpack. The scale of what was happening I was unsure, but I wasn’t going to be unprepared.
I started walking off down the road, towards my neighbors house and near the town. It was a
long walk, and along the way I saw corpses of people, none I recognized, they looked brutalized beyond recognition. This was all so shocking and sudden, I was just wondering how I wasn’t
woken up or killed during this unknown event. There was no movement along the road, no
noises, no moving cars, no life. Only dead air and dead people. I saw the house coming up over
yonder, so I started jogging to it to get to it as fast as possible. Once I saw the state of the house, I knew I was too late. The house used to be white, with a red roof, and the doors and
windows were a peach color. Now, it was blackened, clearly burned by a fire. Some windows
were boarded up, very hastily mind you.

# data[].attributes.body
As I got home from work walking up to my front door, muddy footprints led up into the house, the door glass was broken and the door left cracked open. I took out my gun, slowly walking up to the door, slowly opening it. I walk in stepping on glass pieces all over the floor, looking left and right I keep slowly going through the house making as little noise as possible as i start to go upstairs someone runs out the front door, I tripped, fell down the stairs. By the time I got to the door all I was able to see was the back side of his car. SAC794, SAC794, SAC794, that's all I thought about. I dropped to the ground, I grabbed my head, blood on my hands, on the ground. Then all I saw was BLACK, I thought, am I dead, how long have I been laying here? 30 seconds, an hour, 3 hours. Red and blue lights,  then black again.

# data[].attributes.headline
Plethora of Prompts - Mystery and Thriller

# data[].attributes.subject
Plethora of Prompts - Mystery and Thriller

# data[].attributes.body
A late night at the office, he got in the car, a white BMW 5 series, not a new one, but it was definitely newer, and it looked like it had just been run through a car wash. The engine was quiet, it started up like a sound you hear when you put on your heater for the first time in Winter. There was a breeze I felt, swaying the trees gently and ruffling the bushes. It was a warm one, not new to our area. I trailed slowly, the pictures were what I needed, the license plate, and him. Josh Waterson. He was a boy trying to act tough in a man's world of industry, he was new to corporate as a player, and he was about to find out the game. The higher ups of bigger companies with bigger names and even bigger assets to protect have marked him for death from the second he took over Marshall’s old spot. The door flew open for him due to a convenient resignation from Marshall, and it was my job to make sure that once the smoke had been cleared that it wouldn’t be reversed. I’m a simple man. I’m a businessman. I make a lot of money by carrying out a very specified service that few can offer successfully, and of my region I’m the best. I’ve alleviated to date approximately 726 clients of some rather undesirable problems from undesirable people. It’s my life’s joy to see green in my portfolio. And any job is up for grabs. I’ve never been one to carry personal feelings into a job, and besides it wasn’t personal. I don’t know Waterson and he definitely doesn’t know me, or knows that I’m coming. The nice and quaint little surprise he was about to receive from me would be considered by many in my industry, mercy. As to my code of not keeping it personal, I make my jobs quick, it satisfies the client and spares the undesirable of any knowledge of what has happened or is happening to them. Above all it’s a simple clean up, that’s never been a problem of mine though. I trailed after him for about 15 minutes. I already knew where I was going. To create some separation it was only fair I gave him a head start and let him have one last drink after a hard day's work. That night there would be one problem. The problem with the job was evident the exact moment I walked onto the pathway of a large home. Muddy, trudged bookmarks distinct of another person in my line, and the door was open. I walked in the door, and the problem was on the floor, all over it. It was personal. It was known and felt, all over the wall, the staircase, and the carpet. Someone had gotten here first, and Waterson never got his last drink.

# data[].attributes.body
It was early morning, around Easter time. Sun was shining and birds were chirping. My family was beginning our day as we usually would. My dad had gone outside, and had discovered our garage was destroyed. Me and my mom and sisters had gone out to look. I took a look at the back of the cream wall of the garage and my eyes widened at the black words spread around the wall, such as “sorry about the wall”. A bunch of random symbols, burning money, evil faces. My heart pounded at the sight of this. My parents urged me to go inside, but the unsafe feeling had made me unsettled. Everything had seemed to be in slow motion. There had been vandalism in other areas around my house, black spray paint unicorns appeared on road signs as well as fences of neighbors. I had paid no mind to those incidents, but as soon as it happened to my house, I no longer had comfort.