runouw.com

Warning: Some of the stories in here may contain graphic content.

I figured it was about time I made a story thread here.

Story 1:

Junk Mail

Jared Tennon worked full-time as a banker. His life was—on the whole—quite a boring one. Off to work at 6 A.M., back from work at 9 P.M., dinner at 9:30, watch T.V. at 10, check inbox/empty spam folder at 10:30, go to bed at 11, repeat. The only thing that happened yo Jared that was particularly out of the ordinary began on Friday, 2 weeks before his 5th anniversary of him and his wife Claire's wedding. Through the process of looking through and emptying his spam folder that night, he came across a rather odd piece of mail:
-------------
To: Jared Tennon<jtennon@firstnational.com>
From: Cf01*9<:(@16859.23>
Subject: :(
-------------
Attached was a picture of the corner of a dark grey room that looked somewhat similar to his. Jared moused over the picture to find a link to a site with the address "getweddinggearfree.com". He went to delete the e-mail, seeing as it was probably just some cryptic marketing technique or virus link. Upon clicking the "confirm delete" button, the computer screen went completely blank. Startled, Jared bent down and turned the computer on and off. Instead of being greeted with the usual Intel logo at start-up, the following symbol was displayed.

:(

Jared frantically clicked and pressed keys to try and get the frown off of the otherwise black screen, but the eerie colon-parenthesis combination wouldn't move. Finally, a small bit of incomprehensible text was flawshed on the screen, and the window with Jared's e-mail was restored. Jared was greatly confused. He tried to exit the godforsaken spam folder to get to his inbox, but the browser just put up a white page with the message "404 NOT FOUND" in large bolded lettering. The same message was displayed for every other web page he tried to visit. His spam folder was the only web page that was displayed properly. Jared decided to give his computer a day to cool off.

The next day, he went to his computer-savvy friends for advice. They were left completely stumped after he finished explaining the problem. They'd never heard of a virus like the one Jared had experienced. "The only thing I can suggest is to either use your laptop or get a new computer altogether," said one of them.

That night, Jared avoided using his desktop computer. He sat down on the couch in his living room, opened his laptop, and turned it on. His eyes went wide. There, in the center of the screen, was this:

:)

Jared slammed the laptop shut, got up from the couch, and began walking quickly over to his bedroom. He hadn't gotten more than 3 feet out of the living room when he was stopped cold by a familiar sound. "You've got mail!" the computer in the study rang out. The desktop computer in the study. The very same desktop computer that Jared was certain he had left off since the previous night. He walked in and looked at the screen.
-------------
To: Jared Tennon<jtennon@firstnational.com>
From: HcK2!y<:)@13749.13>
Subject: :)

:)
P.S. Please don't use any other. And please check your mail.
-------------
Jared's heart was racing. He turned off the monitor and walked to his room on shaking, unsteady legs. It took 4 sleeping pills before he finally closed his eyes.

For the next 12 days, his computer had the same problems. He told everyone at work to hold back on sending anything to him until they were fixed. The content of the messages Jared received while he wasn't using his computer were as follows:

Sunday: :(
Monday: :)
Tuesday: :(
Wednesday: :)
Thursday: :(
Friday: :)
Saturday: :(
Sunday: :)
Monday: :(
Tuesday: :)
Wednesday: :(
Thursday: :)

On Thursday night, he called in a computer engineer to have his desktop PC examined. The engineer pressed the power button, and the computer booted up normally. It passed every performance test it was supposed to, and all programs were running smoothly. "Do me a favor, Mr. Tennon," said the engineer, "call me again when you have any real problems." He packed up his equipment and walked out. Jared could see his van driving away through the window in his study. He went to bed puzzled, again neglecting his e-mail and leaving his computer well alone.

The Friday of his wedding anniversary, Jared took the day off from work to make sure everything was in order for a romantic night between Claire and him. At 7:00 P.M., the presents had been purchased and the dinner had been fully prepared. After dinnertime, Claire gave Jared his present: a brand new, top-quality Rolex. Jared got up from the table and told Claire to wait where she was. "Close your eyes, I want to make it a surprise," said Jared as he walked over to get her gift. 5 minutes passed, and he still hadn't returned. Claire was beginning to worry. She walked over to the study door, knowing that he kept most of her gifts in there, and opened the door. There was a loud thump as Claire fainted onto the hardwood study floor.

Sitting decapitated in the corner of the room was Jared, body propped up against one of the walls fully clothed. All over the walls, and puddled on the ground beneath him were dark splotches of blood. On the computer to the left of him, a message was displayed with a picture of the corner of the same dark grey room as the first e-mail, with a ":(" flashing every 4 seconds in the corner of the image.

Carved on the wall next to Jared's body was a vertical list of the senders of each e-mail he had received:

C vh04
H 6my8
E hl2s3
C FY8i
K cRu6
Y tuS3
O q2yU
U TE9w
R j9cU
C 7haT
O qAk6
R geS4
N K2wr
E cRA6
R 8UtA
. seT6

O_o

10/10

Don't know who Slender Man is?
Go here and here
-------------------------------------------------------------
Slender Man Goes to Work

RING! RING! RING! The alarm clock rang violently in the corner of Slender Man's room. "Time for work, honey!" yelled his wife, "I swear to Slender God, if you're late again..." Slender Man extended his arm to shut off the aggravating piece of technology blaring loudly on his nightstand. Unfortunately, it was his sharpened fourth arm. Now he was stuck with a broken alarm clock on his hand and a yelling wife in the kitchen. "Oh golly, not again!" he said. Yanking the confounded object off his branch, Slender Man rushed over to the closet and quickly threw on his suit, tie, and dress pants. Looking down at the time on his watch, he exclaimed "Drat! At this rate, I'll never be on time!" His fast walk turned into a brisk jog as he rushed through the kitchen. "Be home early!" his wife said as Slender Man snatched a piece of toast from the counter and absorbed its nutrients through the pores on his faceless head.

Briefcase in hand, he sped across his normal work route. Thank goodness I only live a couple blocks away, he thought to himself. Slender Man checked his watch again. "7:25! Gadzooks, there's no way I can make it in 5 minutes!" Luckily, he was just walking by the local park area. "Of course, I can just cut through the park!" He ran as fast as his stalks could carry him, but was stopped short at the tree behind the park's playground.

"Eh! Slendy! That you?" came a voice from across the grass field. Slender Man was pleasantly surprised to see Alex Kralie, a good friend of his, waving at him. He turned around to wave, but was interrupted by what he perceived to be the flash of a camera. somewhat confused as to the source of this unexpected paparazzi, he examined the perimeter to see if he was being watched, but found no one. Slender Man could afford to waste no more time; he had a meeting to get to!

"2 minutes! Son of a gun!" he exclaimed as he continued his mad dash to work. Something was off, though. His multisensory facial nerves detected... smoke?! It's coming from the library! he thought. The local library had been a large part of his childhood memories; he couldn't just let it smolder! By the time he got there, all that was left were the now-charcoal foundations, piles upon piles of charred books, and destroyed childhood memories. "Curses! What foul power could have caused such a horrific incident?" he screamed. He walked to the left of the burnt building to see how much damage had been inflicted that wasn't apparent from afar. Right as he stopped to turn to the library, he saw another flash blind him momentarily. This must be the fellow from the park. thought Slenderman, Why did he follow me all the way here? He shrugged it off, realizing it was probably just a strange coincidence. Looking down at his watch, he said, "Great googly! I'm late! Well, I'm only a minute away by foot, so I should darn well take my time."

One minute later, he arrived at work. "20 minutes late! This must be a new record for ya, buddy," said Slender Man's coworker and friend, Johnny "Totheark" Presny. "Sorry I couldn't make it earlier," said Slender Man, "I've been having a rough morning. And if I'm not mistaken, someone has been taking pictures of me."

"Slendy, you're overreacting. So, what's the worst that can happen, someone uploads them to the internet?" Both Slender Man and Totheark burst into laughter, and they walked off to the meeting room together.

10/10


Awesome Story

Some Micro-Microfiction I wrote some time ago:

No Place Like Home


The elevator to floor 9 ascended, the interior playing the oh-so-recognizable tunes from the public domain that Gerald had heard every morning since May 25th, 1982. Jerry considered himself a giving person, as well as a diligent employee. His record of attendance was nearly flawless, and he had won more than 14 "Employee of the Month" awards in his working years. He had a loving wife, four children, and a more-than-modest-looking house, and his income was more than enough to support all of it. He was content, or as content as a man like that should be. The familiar chime echoed in the elevator, and Gerald stepped out onto floor 9, where his office was located. As he walked by the empty cubicles and offices, he was reminded of the homeliness of the place, the sense of belonging that radiated from the building's walls. This was his home away from home, his family away from family.

It was the only family he had left, after his was killed as a result of a savage war being fought across the world. "World War III", as others had appropriately named it. His coworkers were like siblings to him, consoling him in times of grief, and supporting him in times of hardship. Walking to his office, he felt a yearning for those simpler times, when fighting wasn't tearing apart the very foundations of his friendships. He heard the faint blare of the nuclear bomb siren across the empty city as he opened the door to the office of Gerald F. Linder, embracing the familiar sight with teary eyes. He swiveled his rotating chair towards himself and took a seat. The siren played again. He turned to the old record player that his coworker Chris Martanis had given to him has a Christmas present, and gently placed the needle on the Beatles record rotating on it. This was peace. Gerald didn't care if the rest of the world was destroying itself. None of the chaos outside mattered to him. What mattered was that he felt true serenity where he was sitting, at the time he was sitting. The siren wailed once more. Gerald was content.

Pure Awesomeness

Decided to do a bit of scriptwriting. Here's something that's far from complete.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(BENJAMIN ROSS sits in an interrogation room with a flickering light above, handcuffed to the table in front of him)
(Enter INVESTIGATOR DUNN)

DUNN: You're one sick son of a ♥♥♥♥♥, I hope you know that.
BENJAMIN: Jumping to conclusions, aren't we, investigator? Seems to be a specialty of yours.

(DUNN takes out a remote and presses a large black button in the center. A projector lowers behind BENJAMIN, and a picture of the exterior of a grocery store is displayed)

DUNN: Look familiar? It's the same market where the authorities found you with a knife in your hand and your fingers covered in blood.
BEN: And?
DUNN: And, about 10 feet away, we found your victim.

(DUNN presses another button on the remote, and a picture of a bloodied, armless victim is displayed, with a chunk carved out of his chest cavity)

BENJAMIN: Nathan-
DUNN: In this room, you'll refer to me as Investigator Dunn.
BENJAMIN: Fine. Investigator Dunn, whatever happened to that little concept of "innocent before proven guilty"?
DUNN: (Laughs) You're really asking about that crap now? We have enough evidence in front of us to lock you up for life, Ross. You'd only embarrass yourself by trying to get out of thi-
BENJAMIN: Say I am guilty.
DUNN: So you're admitting to it? The great Benjamin Ross, sinking to cold-blooded -
BENJAMIN: Say I did kill it, how much time am I looking at?
DUNN: Life without parole, pretty standard for - wait, did you just call the victim an "it"?
BENJAMIN: Nath-
DUNN: Investigator Dunn
BENJAMIN: INVESTIGATOR DUNN, in my line of work-
DUNN: What, that crackpot job as a paranormal investigator? I never could see why the chief let you-
BENJAMIN: Let me finish. In my line of work, you need to wake up everyday with an open mind. My outlook is to accept any and all possibilities for a situation, even the ones that aren't possible.
DUNN: What does this have to do with the fact that there's a man dead out there and blood on your fingers?
BENJAMIN: Investigator, the theory I'm about to propose to you might not make sense to you. I want you to open yourself up to the idea that the truth itself might not make sense.
DUNN: (Grunting) I'm listening.
BENJAMIN: What if this "victim" that I supposedly "murdered" wasn't a he or she? What if the body wasn't male or female, but really was - to put it simply - an "it"?
DUNN: You're nuts, Ross.
BENJAMIN: Has the victim been identified yet?
DUNN: No, the face was disfigured beyond recognition.
BENJAMIN: Then how can you be sure?
DUNN: What?
BENJAMIN: How can you be sure that what I'm saying might not be so far off from the truth?
DUNN: What are you trying to-?

(DUNN is interrupted by a loud knocking on the Investigation Room door)

VOICE: (Yelling) Dunn, you in there?
DUNN: Yeah, right here.
VOICE: Is Benjamin Ross with you?
DUNN: Yeah. What about him?

(Door opens. Enter POLICE CHIEF TERRENCE BRADLEY)

BRADLEY: (Pointing to BENJAMIN) Ross, you're coming with me.

(DUNN stands up at and looks at BRADLEY)

DUNN: Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's this about? This ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ is a murderer! What, do you want him to go and cut up another innocent person? I want to know who authorized his release.
BRADLEY: You're looking at him.
BENJAMIN: Nice to see such a warm change of heart, Terry.
DUNN: (Staring coldly at BENJAMIN) Don't you try to smartass your way out of this. (Looking back at BRADLEY) Why, though? What reason could possibly be good enough to let Benjamin off the hook?
BRADLEY: The victim's corpse just got back from autopsy. It's safe to say that this body isn't human.

Awesome! It was so suspenseful that I wanted to keep reading it. : D

AMAZING! 11/10

Just a little something:

"Improper Treatment of Orcas"

(Open in an apartment, with a man sitting at his table, reading the newspaper and eating a bowl of cereal. The man opens his mouth to take another bit of cereal, but is interrupted by a loud knocking on his door. He freezes and looks up. Two police officers kick down the door and barge in.)
POLICE MAN 1: You're under arrest, bud.
MAN: Wh-what did I do?
POLICE MAN 2: Says here you got one charge of "Improper treatment of orcas"
MAN: That's ridiculous! Who told you that?
POLICE MAN 1: Why don't you ask the victim yourself?
(Police Man 1 gestures to his right. The scene pans left, revealing an orca on its belly, halfway through the door frame. Screen quickly pans back over to a now-angry man.)
MAN: You ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥!
(The orca tilts its head upwards and lets out a low screech.)