Pebble Story/Monologue Collection

DeletedUser8396

Guest
Infinitum

My newest pet project:

*Removed for reasons*
 
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DeletedUser8396

Guest
So close.


I'm interested yet terrified to see where this is heading.

You should be. It is a terrifying concept I'm writing. Im working and chapter two now.

This story may end up becoming to vulgar to stay within forum rules simply due to the nature of the topic. If it happens, it is only for the betterment of conveying the ideas in a furthered intensity. If it comes to it, I will share it through skype or another medium. Once the reveal is made, the vulgarity will all make sense should I add it in.

I may make two versions. The actual one and the clean one.
 
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DeletedUser

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feel free to send it to me and I'll post it so you can keep your mod hands clean.
 

DeletedUser8396

Guest
Chapter two is done. I am working on the censored version (as the full version would get me mega banned). I'll try and have that up by tomorrow afternoon. If you'd like to read the full version, add me on skype and I'll send you a link, but it will be have to be separate from the forum.
 

DeletedUser8396

Guest
Chapter 3 and 4 (by the next hour) are live. Not the censored versions, though. It's really cool of a story. If you want to read the actual, full version, add me on skype at 'apebble1' and I'll send you the link to the googledoc where you can watch as I write it.
 

DeletedUser8396

Guest
Chapter 5 is done. You all seriously need to read this. It's getting insane.
 

DeletedUser46912

Guest
Amazing, the suspense is killing me haha! Cannot wait for the rest
 

DeletedUser23986

Guest
weren't you planning on censored versions, or do i really need to skype you?
 

DeletedUser8396

Guest
Just Another Glass

Think of your favorite drink- an unending, infinite supply of your favorite drink. You love this drink, so much so that this drink is all that you ever fill your body with in terms of fluids. You drink this drink with fervency. You cannot get enough. You may quit at any point if you simply say no, but you do not want to say no. This is your favorite drink and any drink compared to this favorite pales in comparison. You have an overwhelming love for this drink. You exchange other things you value simply to have a few more gulps. You are obsessed. So far, the drink has yet to harm you in any way whatsoever. Any way you could imagine it harming you (physically, emotionally, economically) are all nonexistent to your perception. You and your drink are in what seems to be a perfect, harmless love. This drink has taken control over your mind and is all you ever think about. You love this drink with the same fervency as the most veracious lover, the most adamant religious zealot, the most ambitious dreamer. One may argue that you and the drink are bound together.

Then, one day, a study conclusively proves without a doubt that the drink is a poison. Designed to cause the organs to deteriorate inside of you whilst numbing the organs in the process. A truly vile poison indeed. You, concerned you may have been a victim, go to see a doctor and determine if you have been affected. When you arrive and the tests are concluded, you are given 1 year to live. You have no hope.

You return home after the doctor releases you. You sit on your couch and contemplate how you will leave this world. Quiet and secret? Out with a bang? A sentimental farewell? You debate these within your mind. You decide live out as long as you possibly can, get everything in order for your departure, and then drift off peacefully. No loud fireworks or exciting adventures. You aim for peace.

The next day you go to eat lunch. You prepare yourself a ham sandwich, sit down, and begin eating it. A few bites in, you feel yourself becoming thirsty. The first thought your mind goes to is the drink you so adore- the drink you admire beyond belief. All the joys and pleasures of the memory of the taste fill you up. You cannot focus on anything else other than this one drink. Then the back of your mind refocuses on the matter at hand- death. Each cup you drink, you lose one more day of the year. Each glass equates to 24 hours you will not live. What is worth more? The intense pleasure from your greatest love or the continuing of life for ONE more day?

You think to yourself: ”Well, it is only ONE more day, is it not? Surely I will be prepared to go by then.”

You take a glass. 363 days left.

The next day you make yourself a steak. A big juicy, medium rare steak with a side of delicious potatoes at the side, topped with butter and cheese melted across the top. You eat through most of the steak and become thirsty. You get up and think to yourself: “Surely I will want to say I had a steak with my favorite drink before I died!”

You pour yourself a glass. 361 days left.

The next day you drink two glasses. 358 days left.

The day after you pour 3, and 4 the next. You decide to cut back and only drink two the day after. You then come to a crisis, as you only are left with 346 days. You feel them slipping away quicker than you would want. But the taste of this drink, oh how delicious this drink is. You cannot break away from it. Constantly it presses itself upon your mind. Constantly it presents itself to you, covering the promise of death with the joy of its flavor. You survive a few days, but ultimately fall into the routine. Two months pass by, and you find you are left with 95 days to live. 270 days gone in two months. You have yet to even tell your friends and family you will be dead in 3 months, assuming you do not drink another single glass.

You swear off the drink for good. Never again! Or so you say. You last a bit longer this time, one month! 64 days left to live. You now feel the pressure to get everything in order before your time. However, each time you pick up the phone, the drink forces itself all the more upon your mind. You can almost taste it on the tip of your tongue. You remember each glass you’ve ever drank in the last 300 days with perfect recollection. The drink is calling your very name.

You say to yourself, “Tomorrow. I’ll talk to them tomorrow.”

You pour yet another glass. 62 days to live.

Repeated the next day. And again. And AGAIN! You cannot stop. Your hand fights itself to not pour another glass while your mind screams for more. The joy and pleasure is simply too great. You cannot control yourself- unless you say no. You know very well you could stop if you said no and truly meant it. That the thoughts and desires would cease. But secretly you desire this drink more than the days you could live. You would rather die holding a glass of poison to your lips than to use the very same lips to say farewell.

You now have 10 days left. No one has a clue you are dying. You have no will. Nothing is prepared.

Three days left. Your first visible signs of deteriorating present. You go to the hospital.

“We weren’t expecting you for at least another 6 months,” the doctors say.

“Yes. I wasn’t expecting to be here now either,” you say.

The night goes on and the next day comes. Two days left.

“Would you like me to call in any family for you?” the nurse asks.

“Yes. I have their phone numbers on a list. Had them for quite a while now.”

“At least you all have had time to prepare. I’m so sorry.”

The nurse makes each call and returns.

“I made the calls. Your family and friends will be here in about three days,” the nurse says, as she turns and leaves.

You turn to your side and cry throughout the night.

One day remaining.

The hospital room is quiet. Not a noise permeates the room, aside from when the nurses come in to check on you. They are your only visitors.

“How are you doing?” the nurses ask.

“Fine, I suppose,” you say, with a deep and melancholy tone.

“Your family is coming tomorrow, correct?”

You remain silent, with the still smiling nurse watch, waiting for a reply. When it becomes obvious there is none that you will be giving, her smile drifts away and leaves the room.

The hours count down like timer on a bomb. Down to zero they go until everything becomes broken.

5 minutes remaining.

A nurse bursts through the door, “Your daughter is here a day early! She’s in the lobby, would you like me to go get her?”

You nod your head yes.

The nurse returns with your 22 year old daughter. You haven’t spoken in years, even more years since you’ve seen each other.

1 minute remaining.

“Hello,” she says, with tinge of resentment lingering in her voice. You can hear her try and fight it, but the resentment is too strong, too engrained. She does her best to hide it, to give you a last moment of peace, but you know how she feels.

15 seconds remaining. You begin to feel the pain overtake you. Your heart beat grows faster and faster, pounding like a hammer to a nail. Lungs aching as they expand and retract. You can feel death take its hold.

“Could I- could I have just one more taste?”

Three seconds. Two. One…
 
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