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A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18 : Writing Prompts and Challenges • Page 4 • Writing Forum | WritersDigest.com

A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

The editors of Writer's Digest provide a weekly Writing Prompt to get your writing going.
anyuta34i
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Re: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby anyuta34i » Mon Mar 14, 2011 5:10 pm

In terms of deaths caused by various forms of cancer, lung cancer ranks second only to Breast Cancer. The National Cancer Institute recently reported that an estimated 172,570 new cases of lung cancer will be reported this year and that 163,510 American will die from this disease.Lung cancer is caused predominantly by smoking. One expert says that in the case of Small Cell Lung Carcinoma.

bethanyc
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Re: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby bethanyc » Thu Mar 17, 2011 5:45 am

“Son of a bitch.” Tim nudged the lifeless body with the tip of his boot. It was only January 15—how the hell was he going to explain this one?
He stepped over what was left of the girl, careful not to make any tracks through the pooling blood, and squatted down beside her. He knew it wasn’t funny but he found himself laughing anyway. With all the snow on the ground it looked more like a cherry snow cone fight had gone down than a murder.
Her head was still attached to her body, though with that ninety-degree crick in her neck he wasn’t sure how. He probably should have just decapitated her, but decapitations are messy, and taking two showers in the same day is just a waste of water. Her mane of blonde hair was hardly detectable anymore. Unfortunately, that always happened to the blondes. Once the blood set in they went from Kool-Aid stained to black as pitch in a matter of minutes. He sat back on his heels, hugging his knees, and heaved an exhausted breath. It hung in front of him like a ghost with a dangerous secret. “You asked for it,” he grumbled. “I told you never to come back here, but you did.”
The dirty snow crunched beneath his boots as he made his across the driveway and to his car. With the push of a button on that damn, fancy key-ring Cathy bought him, the trunk popped open. He swallowed through the familiar knot of guilt that had suddenly lodged itself in his throat. He hadn’t seen the shovel or the box of heavy-duty lawn bags since New Year’s Eve. He swore he’d never need them again, but here he was again--ready to bury another body.

Celosia
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RE: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby Celosia » Sun Mar 27, 2011 4:41 am

Tim gripped the crimson, spaghetti like refuse. He rolled it between his blue gloved fingers, mechanically analyzing it. The strands were uneven in width and garish in color. It would have to do. Thick, dark as night, red clumps fell from the mess, painting a Pollock on the wet asphalt.
No one would see Tim's Masterpiece. Some transient would most likely lay his cardboard house upon his vision. Or maybe a municipal worker would wash it away, mistaking his art for yet another piece of the poop unicorns and rainbows taint of Crown Heights. Tim curled his lip as he contemplated the destruction of his work. No one appreciated his art as Art. They all just looked at him with wide eyes, nodded their heads, but always stood their distance. They did not fathom the meaning, nor venture to even pretend they did. They were ignorant. Stupid. Even if they understood, no one would ever want to crawl between the air conditioning units for the sex shop and the neighboring husk of a building where his Studio was hidden. The shell of a structure had been burned in a police raid of a meth lab last month. No one was coming back to the scene of that crime. Nor his Studio.
A faint memory of good times, accented by the scent of champagne and the touch of laughter, interrupted Tim's musings. The recollection was a picture poorly laminated and scribbled on by a retarded child. Difficult to recall. Most were when the aroma of his Paints filled his nostrils or his serrated Brush was in his hands. If he wanted to remember he would have to leave his Studio between the humming cooling units. Tim discarded the memory to chuckle at the idea of how hot the cooling units were. They certainly weren't cooling him. He laughed aloud at his crude joke and set back to his work.
He tossed the drenched tinsel in his hand towards the wall and it made a sickly slap against the bricks. The sky echoed his motion with a soft flicker of distant lightning and the soothing purr of thunder. Tim enjoyed the storms that rolled in off the ocean, but knew that his image was not long for this world. Maybe his materials would not be much longer either. Tim had a hard time concentrating when his palette would move around, but he had to keep the medium warm. Tim hated cold Paint.
Tim hated the Critics, too. He despised them like a dog despises a tall fence when a bitch is in heat. They were always in the way. They were always telling him to 'Get away from her!' They'd yell at him to put his Brush down, and step away from the bitch. The deed was already done of course. But getting caught by the Critics was bad. He hadn't had to talk to his Critics in years. His Agent had only just let him out to do his Work. Two weeks to be exact.
Tim recalled the bubbly and giggling again. He remembered his welcoming back into the Work place. Tim's Muse had organized it. She was excited that her Painter had come home. And in time for the New Year no less. She never believed all the Critics or the Agent. Always loved him. She threw him a big party with drinks and friends. Her friends mostly. He remembered one of her friends, always touching her hand and stroking her gorgeous auburn hair. He could never do that hair justice with his brush.
Tim got angry at the party. He'd felt the rage bubble up from his sole of souls. His Muse had asked him to stop and promise her. Promise her to never Paint again. Promises are hard to keep. He promised. Promise.
Tim threw the Brush to the ground. He'd promised at the party not to Paint and yet here he was Painting his soon-to-be late Muse. Tim kicked the Palette, cursed at it, pounded on it, until the Paint ran cold. Tim only realized his Masterpiece was ruined when he could hear his harsh breathing in his hands. Rage simmered down to misgiving. He turned his back on his discarded piece. It was a worthless piece of poop unicorns and rainbows anyway. He meandered down the drizzly street covered in Paint, wondering if maybe he should have promised to quit smoking instead.

Jennajaye
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RE: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby Jennajaye » Mon Mar 28, 2011 1:48 pm

Standing over that lifeless in that dark ally body gave me no more pleasure. I broke a promise with myself. A promise I shouldn't ever broken. No more killing. A resolution made when that twinkling ball dropped. How could I have been so stupid? But it's just one person so far this year, except it's January 2nd and that's the begining of the addiction.
As I shamlessly clean my dagger I ponder what the first killing that had led me to slaughtering these inoccent human beings. Oh yes, it was my cousin, Todd, on Thanksgiving when I was twelve. We were playing a game and he cheated. I was so angry I snatched a large rock and nailed it into his temple.
I could I have been so midless?
Well it's to late now. I can't bring back all those lives I took. The resolution hs already been broken, so why not do it again? Have a bit more fun in my life? Yeah, that's what I'll do.

RLDickson
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I Resolve to Kill No More

Postby RLDickson » Mon Mar 28, 2011 5:46 pm

Who says that resolutions can only be about weight lost and debt removal? Like most people I, sat down and considered my life. Looking at what I had done in the previous year, I thought of things I wish I had done differently or had not done at all. I don’t smoke, I have no debt and I am perfectly fit. This year I will be 55 years old and I have never married, had children, and no family to speak of. What I do have is a great disdain for people, humanity in general. So, what one thing in my life should I resolve to change? In that moment I decided I will never kill again.
As scores of college freshmen began to shuffle into the lecture hall, she entered.
“Professor Kingmen?” She called.
“Yes” I said as I continued to write the lecture topic on the board.
“I’ll be auditing your lecture today. I am currently working on my thesis and have been urged by more than one source to come and hear the foremost authority on the subject of Dissassociative Disorder.” She said.
“Flattered, please take a seat.” I worked hard to fight back my excitement. I was intrigued; tempted may be a better way to say.
The lecture lasted for an hour. The students clapped and cheered when I ended my lecture, but I could not recall on word I spoke. The entire hour was an internal battle of wills. I fought my urges my desires. She was my type. Mid-Twenties, fair skin, deep blue eyes, and beautiful blonde hair. I had a scrapbook full of photos of women just like her. Women I’d killed. I found no pleasure in anything else.
“Remember your resolution.” I repeated it to myself over and over like a Sunday school student trying to remember the memory verse for the week.
“Tim, you can do this. “ I thought to myself “She is only auditing the class and I’ll never see her again.”
“Professor Kingmen, I wonder if you’d mind clarifying some of your thoughts, over coffee perhaps?”
“Certainly, I know the perfect place.”
Now two weeks later I stand with adrenaline rushing through my body, my heart in a flurry of rapid beats, a cold ivory handled knife in my hands and blood, lots of blood at my feet.
“Well maybe I could stand to lose a little weight.”

KingRalph
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RE: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby KingRalph » Wed Mar 30, 2011 8:22 am

Standing in Time Square, watching the ball drop at midnight had made an impression on Tim. Being from the mountains of West Virginia, Tim had never seen such a live event. He looked around at what appeared to be millions of people. Maybe this was too much. As he dodged spilled drinks and hugged and kissed complete strangers, his thoughts drifted back five hours. He had been sitting with five of his friends in the famous Carnegie Deli. After exhausting every subject from football game predictions to anguishing over the recent mining collapse, each had begun talking about their new year's resolutions. The subject bored Tim. He listened to his pals talk about all of the traditional resolutions. Typical things: try out for the baseball team, go to class more, study harder, find a new girlfriend, and on and on and on.
Tim said nothing.
He hoped they would move on to something new.
"Hey Timmy, what is your resolution?" Edward asked.
At first, Tim succinctly told them that he did not make resolutions. When asked why, he told them that nobody took them seriously. He thought the whole thing was stupid.
His buddy Nate had consumed enough beer to find it fun to push Tim a bit harder. "Come on, Timmy Boy. Spill the beans. You must have at least one thing you resolve to do."
Tim, with eyes closed, simply shrugged.
The teasing turned to insults. Tim felt the back of his neck redden. That was his sign and now he knew he was getting angry.
Instead of ending, the insults hit deeper.
His neck turned redder.
At last, his best friend Mike Brown slammed him with an deep personal insult. Tim had taken enough. He backhanded Mike in the chest making it clear that he had heard enough. Unfortunately, he also hit Hector in the nose with his elbow. Blood gushed. Waiters rushed to Hector's aid with towels and advice. The whole deli now thought a fight had started. Ladies began screaming.
"No problem here, folks. Just an accident. It's all under control. Enjoy yourself," shouted one of the waiters.
Tim was sure that this would end this foolishness.
Instead, it got even worse.
Tim spoke up again, "Come on guys. This is really getting childish and out of hand. I simply do not believe in doing resolutions. Can we please move on to a new subject? In fact, I'd be happy to not hear any of you guys talk for a few minutes so I can finish my pastrami sandwich."
Nothing worked. The abuse continued . . .
"Okay, if I give you 'one' resolution, will you back off of me?"
They all cheered celebrating the win.
"You promised to shut you up after this so, I promise not to kill any of you guys this year!!! Now, get off of my back."
That had worked.
Little did they know that something sounding so simple was not going to be easy for Tim.
Standing in Time Square, Tim had promised himself again and again that this would be the year he would live up to his resolution. But Tim had a secret.
Two weeks later, Tim, Eddie, and Mike were still in Manhattan. Always the ladies man, Mike had met a girl on New Year's Eve who lived downtown near Wall Street. Her roommate was away in Atlanta for a month of Coca Cola management training classes. Not the prettiest girl in town, Nancy talked Mike into staying with her by agreeing to allow Tim and Eddie to stay also.
The three boys spent their days wandering the streets of New York. During lunch one day at Bloom's Deli, Eddie brought up the resolution debate again.
"Timmy, I am truly happy that you are doing better than I am on the new year's resolution. So far, I've missed a week of classes and only called my Mom once. Maybe you were right."
"Sure Timmy was right, Eddie. He's always right. Right about everything," isn't that right, Tim?
Tim said nothing.
Before Eddie and Tim had finished their lunch, Tim hopped up.
"Gotta go meet Nancy. You guys behave, don't do anything I woldn't do. See you tonight."
It was a pretty day in New York after a good deal of snow over the holidays. Snow and ice was still visible in the more shaded spots. As they walked, a young kid came running by them, hit a patch of this black ice and slid along the sidewalk for what must have been thirty or forty feet. He managed to get up but was scraped from head to toe.
They kept walking, popping in and out of stores along the way. Fifth Avenue impressed the boys. No matter what time they were near Rockefeller Center, the streets were lined with people. As they continued to walk, all of a sudden, Eddie pushed Tim towards the street just as a taxi was speeding past them. The taxi hit standing water spraying it everywhere. Tim was soaked from head to toe with cold, dirty water. That was enough for Tim. It was time to put his plan in place. He acted as if he thought it was funny and they continued to walk back towards the apartment. Walking against the traffic made Tim's plan easier.
A speeding bus was approaching in the lane most near the curb. Tim grabbed Eddie and pretended to slip on the icy sidewalk. He fell to the left, Eddie fell to the right onto Fifty Avenue.

As Tim had said, everyone breaks their resolutions.

KingRalph
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Re: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby KingRalph » Wed Mar 30, 2011 8:23 am

As always, I look forward to hearing from you with your suggestions and comments.

skapple55
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RE: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby skapple55 » Tue Apr 26, 2011 10:34 am

In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. I had to remind myself to breathe. I rubbed my hands on my pants; they were sweaty and clammy. I stood straight up and acted like I had nothing to hide. I took out my cell phone and pretended to text my girlfriend, Angie. I swallowed hard when I thought of her, knowing I’d never actually see her again.
“Hello officer,” I greeted the cop that passed and he nodded toward me. He didn’t arrest me or go, ‘Hey, I’ve seen you on a poster somewhere, come back here!’ as I run away. So far so good. I started toward home on foot, in case someone identified my license plate.
As soon as I got home I collapsed on my couch and into sleep, worn out from trying to blend in, to not seem like a criminal. “Hey Tim!” Morris yelled as I walked in to the party. The smell of alcohol filled the air and I wrinkled my nose. I casually saluted in his direction. He offered me a drink, and I turned it down. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I smiled, seeing it was Angie.
Hey hon. R U coming over tonight? I want to watch the ball drop together. Luv U!

I put the phone back in my pocket after saying I’d be there around 11:30. “Time for New Year’s resolutions everyone!” Morris girlfriend, Bethany, called. We all groaned but huddled into his small living room. “Tim, you go first.”

“I’m not gonna kill anybody.” I announced, and everyone laughed, assuming it was a joke. I was trying to change, but they didn’t believe it could happen.

I woke up with a start. I shuddered. Barely two weeks had passed since New Year’s, and I’d already broken that resolution. Now Angie was gone. Why was I such an idiot? She got mad at me, and I go on a killing streak? She trusted me, believed in me, and now she’s gone forever.
“Morris, get down here immediately,” I hit the four on my speed-dial and called him. He grunted, but I knew he was on his way.

***********
“Got another cha-ching opportunity for me?” He said quietly in case anyone was listening. I knew nobody was; the other apartments had been abandoned for years, Angie was long gone, and I didn’t feel that spine crawling sensation I get whenever someone’s listening in on me.
“I miss her Morris. I loved her, I still do! Now thanks to my stupidity, she’s gone. G-O-N-E. And its all my fault! She trusted that I’d never do anything to hurt her.
“Man, if you miss her just CALL her! What’s so hard? If she doesn’t answer, you’ll at least--”
“Morris! You just don’t get it! I’ll never hear her voice again!” I cut him off.
“But if she doesn’t answer at least you’ll get her voicemail! Seriously man get with the program!” I whimpered. Angie collected programs from every show she went to! I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. I knew it would make me seem weak, something I couldn’t afford, especially with my past.
“Hello, You’ve reached Angelina Delgato!”
“And her boyfriend Kent!”
“Leave your name, number, and a short message at the tone!”she giggled and her voicemail ended.
“She already has a new boyfriend?” A tear slid down my face.
“What? You thought it would take her forever to get over you? You killed her brother, T. If I were her I’d be over you in a few seconds. Move on. You tried to turn over a new leaf, but people like us don’t change!” he finished his speech with a satisfied grunt. His words echoed in my head. “People like us don’t change....change...change.”

skapple55
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Re: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby skapple55 » Tue Apr 26, 2011 10:36 am

Pleas please please let me know what you think. I'm a beginner writer and I'm pretty young and I really want feedback! And if you hate it, say it nicely! Thanks!

TheBrianJihad
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RE: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby TheBrianJihad » Wed Apr 27, 2011 5:31 pm

“She deserved it. She deserved it.” His self-reassurance was a broken record in his head. His pulse pounded through his chest until his ribcage was about to shatter. The physical discomfort, however, was nothing to compare against the raw emotion. All of his hatred, anger, anxiety, fear, and frustration pulsated through his veins like an aggressive virus. Right before it struck his heart for the kill, every bit of feeling expended out of his body and left him with a dizzying euphoria when her pale neck opened under its impaling intruder and painted a scarlet necktie.

As he struggled to drag her stubborn body, he saw his panting breath form a wispy cloud just before it fogged up his glasses. The calming chirp of frivolous crickets assured him that he was alone and allowed him to concentrate on not tripping over rogue tree roots and branches. The faint crystalline glimmer of the dying campfire in the clearing faded further and further away. Even though the party had left hours ago, he began to grow anxious again. It wasn’t so much of fear of getting caught as much as it was his hatred of having to do all the tedious little things to tie the loose ends after getting a job done. A hasty job was always reckless, he KNEW this, and fought even harder to control the scatterbrain when he began to hear the flow of the river.

“She deserved it. She deserved it.” Over and over again, as the morning sunlight began to glimmer on the cellophane some unexpectedly quick hours later. He drew in a long and prideful breath through his nostrils and his chest expanded outward.

“I just don’t get it. We were made for each other. She said ‘no’ when I asked her to be my girlfriend at the New Year’s Eve party at Steve’s, but I know she meant ‘yes’. She was just shy about it around her friends because they don’t know me. She didn’t have to make a fool out of me tonight, though. On our two week anniversary, of all nights!”

“Be positive, Tim. She deserved it. She. DESERVED. It.” The abstract form of reasonable consciousness he sometimes called Fred explained. “Besides, at least you now have a personal record for longest relationship.”

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