"Manage"

Twenty-five heroes unite,

An overlord to slay,

Our efforts lead up to this night,

Perhaps we'll win today.





We're riding on our mighty steeds

Our blades are sharpened, our skills are honed,

We have our candles, shards and seeds

The Healer's been soul-stoned.

Our tanks are Druid bears,

With food buffs from the Feast,

And Blessings , gifts and prayers,

We'll do our best at least.

And here we go, the AFKs,

Get a drink, Potty, Smoke,

We've been trying this for days,

what the hell ~gets a Coke~



Okay, is everyone back now?

Let's get this party started!

everyone on vent -Raid:Wow

AND PLEASE, DON'T ACT RETARDED.



Raid leaders please check in by class,

Assign your healers, please.

Priests we need dispels en masse,

Shamans, cure disease.



If you can stop thier spells, then do,

DKs, don't Deathgrip.

we'll need a mind control or two

Hunters use Wing Clip.



Put on your Frost Resistant gear,

We're heading through the door.

Watch out, these first mobs fear.

Who's not been here before?



The fights are well explained,

Everyone knows thier role,

There's epic lootz here to be gained,

it's a pug, so hey, free roll!




(more to follow)

"Quickly"

"Through here, quickly!"
Rob held the large stone door open as the others scrambled through.
"Hurry! I can't hold it!"
The others scrambled, trying to make it through before Rob's strength gave out. The long night and running had done little to give him rest and his muscles ached as the old granite bore down on him. Down the hall, Erin and David's footsteps fell heavily, while Deb squeezed through the narrow opening and into the freshly cut lawn lit only by a pale moon.
"Come On!"
Rob faltered a bit, his shoulder slipping on the warm, wet blood from the wound he's gotten earlier, the pain causing his knee to buckle, and with a groan, the granite shifted back into position, closing the only opening leading to the old house's courtyard, leaving Deb alone.
She fell to her knees, skinning them on the hard slab, and pounded it with futile fits, crying and bleeding onto the pale white rock.
"ROB! DAVE!"

Below, Rob once again set himself beneath the rock and lifted, but failed to find the strength to once again heft it enough for escape and sagged, exhausted to the cold earth below. Erin, half-dragging Dave, slumped down beside him and waited. Her foot was bleeding from earlier, causing her to leave small bloody patches when she walked, and now that she had stopped it pooled around her shoe. She slid it off, and examined the wound. Her shoe was stuck from the hour or so she'd had to run on the sticky crimson mess. The skin on her foot had been ripped open, exposing sinew and bone, which hurt a lot more now that she'd had a chance to look at it. She felt tears welling in her eyes and she reached over to Dave, pulling his bandanna out of his pocket, and tying it snugly around her foot, She padded it a bit, not wanting to put her shoe back on.

Dave's lantern flickered as he put it down and he began rummaging through his pack, looking for anything that could be used to fight. His hands were shaky and his fingers slick from his missing fingernails. The little demons that had torn them off, laughing, still burned into his mind. He could feel them -literally feel them chewing on them. He dumped the contents onto the ground and bent over them. The rations he'd been carrying were passed out, just energy bars and packets of juice but they were grateful to have them after the night they'd had.

Above, Deb sat beside the stone,wiping tears and blood from her forehead. She took a few deep breaths, steeling her resolve. She heard the steps behind her, knowing it was coming, and stood, turning around. She'd had training, years of self-defense and martial arts had toned her into a formidable fighter. She turned, and faced him, the madman who'd been taking out her friends, trapping and torturing them. She could smell the sulphur on him, see the writing shapes which hung over him with their sharp, grinning teeth. The scythe caught the moonlight as he swung it easily, one handed as if it weighed nothing. He brought it back, gripping the handles and prepared to strike.
Deb's muscles tensed and she assumed fighting posture. Her hands gestured, taunting it, her fingers curling into"come and get it".
"Let's dance, you bastard."

"Predatory"

The scent of blood hung in the air like a fog, and I inhaled it deeply, savoring the rich depth of her fear. She was close, yes. I'd wounded her but she was still moving faster than I could keep up. Oh, this prey was sneaky, worthy, and the end would be worth the long pursuit. I loped across the forest floor , following the strong aroma that filled my senses, firing my fervor into a frenzy. it would be easy to make a mistake, to let myself get too overcome with predatory instinct to lose sight of the main goal. But, no, i held on, kept myself in check as the darkness lit up by an explosion, the sound deafening me momentarily and throwing me off balance. I crashed into a pile of dead leaves, crunching them beneath my lupine form. I shook my head, getting my bearings and my hearing back, and looked around. Everywhere I looked, fire, big, roaring flames were devouring the trees, laying waste with heat and light to everything it touched. I looked into the heart, squinting, and could barely make out a delicate female form deep within. I growled and snarled, still able to smell her over the ash that now swirled into the air, nearly choking me. I knew that i was too late, and that her inner flame had awakened. The forest around was her victim, and I knew i was next if i did not get out of there. But, no. I had a task to complete. She would be coming back with me, alive or otherwise, and now I knew why I'd been warned of the dangers when i accepted this mission.

The ones who's come to hire me knew of my special gift. They offered plenty of cash, more than I usually charge, which should have thrown up a red flag. But, i needed a challenge. The last few had barely gotten my fur up, and I really needed to let the beast out for a while. I decided to go all out on this one, even though it was just bringing a woman "home" who'd gotten a little too...shall we say wanderlusty. I'd managed to track her down easy enough, but the last two hours had lead me on a merry chase, and I couldn't have been happier. Well, until she went all burny just now. I could feel her heat getting closer, the temperature steadily growing almost unbearable. She'd be right on me soon. Hopefully, i could get my teeth into her before she turned me into a pile of cinders. Her perfume had been vaporized by the fire, but I could still get a faint whiff of it through the rest of the char. She was so close i could feel the dirty grey fur on my arms starting to ignite in little wisps, quick little fuses burning down to my arm with a gentle "fft". If I stayed much longer, I'd be a crispy critter...

"Kit"

William arrived home from a long day of accounting to find a large box on his doorstep. Excitedly, he fumbled for his keys and opens the door with a small click before rushing inside, throwing his briefcase onto the floor and rushing to get his hand trucks. He hurried back to the step and carefully slid the small metal wedge under the box, tilting it back slowly, before pulling the box inside and securing the door. The large smile upon his face never left.

After kicking off his shoes and getting his toolbox, he gently pried the box open and slowly, meticulously removed the inner protective wrap, revealing the shiny red and yellow box, which with a gentle care he opens, and lays the pieces-Small bags, boxes, little sealed pouches hundreds of them, each meticulously labelled and numbered- off to the side keeping each in order. He took out the instruction manual, a large, 250 page booklet and sat down on the couch to read it, every so often glancing up at the box and a few of the contents. Something like this you can't make a mistake on. The manual gives detailed instructions, down to the most minute assembly instruction. Everything must be done just right or the entire thing has to be redone. William knows this, and knew it from the time that he saw the tiny little ad on the corner of the website that no matter the cost, this would change his life.

It was nearly four thirty in the morning when he finished reading the instructions, and being a rational man, William decided to get a good night's sleep before he began, lest a momentary sleep-deprived distraction may cause him to err from the instructions. He also realized that he'd not yet eaten for the evening, and grabbed a slice of yesterday's pizza before heading up to bed. Tomorrow would be a sick day, he was sure.

Ten fifty-seven greeted him as he looked at the clock, the nice red digital read-out reminding him that he was late for work. He didn't care, and a quick phone call and a faked hoarseness soon freed him of the day's occupational responsibilities, leaving the day free for assembly.
He didn't begin right away, going to the kitchen and cooking himself as nice a breakfast as he could, eggs, bacon, hash browns and a nice large glass of orange juice with lots of pulp. He then showered and shaved before heading back to the living room, and sitting down to his project.

He took the first small box, gently cutting the tiny piece of tape that held it closed and opened it. He'd not checked any of them last night, too anxious to read the instructions, but there in front of his eyes was the starting piece, the Alpha, the first step in what would surely be the most amazing thing he'd ever done. He took put the box down, simply staring at it for a moment, before reaching hands shaky with excitement down to touch the object within.

Beside him, the torn wrapping of the red and yellow package danced slowly as he carefully assembled his new life, his new world, the logo proudly displayed-"Build-your-own-Universe kit"

"Bring"

"You think that you can just walk in here with your pathetic friends and destroy years of planning? I hardly think that you truly realized who you were dealing with."
The baron stepped slowly among the tues that held the unfortunate heroes captive, each a special deathtrap tailored specificly for each of those within.
"Now what am i going to do with you? Antibody, you've been a thorn for years now. you nearly cost me my entire fortune, and were this close," he held his fingers a mere milimeter apart " to stopping me this time, and I bet you didn't even realize. The mugger you stopped last month..the one that was robbing that old woman on the corner of eighth...yes, if you'd not let him get away, my entire plan would have gone down in ruins."
He stepped in front of the next tube and tapped on it like a fishtank. The body within simply stared at him as it floated helpless in the zero-gravity environment.
"And, you, Mr. Cascade. You think that you can use that power of yours to level my castle, when you know well that I can just crush you with but a thought, turning your own power against you? Yes, I'm sure you do..."
He smiled and walked up to the next tube, a small cylander no more than seven inches in diameter.
"Minisculo, The mini-might. How ridiculous you are, how sad that you honestly think that being small will bring you anything but a swift death beneath the sole of my shoe. You tried to hide from me, but i saw you, i caught you."
He smirked and turned his back on the small creature furiously pounding the glass like a wild animal.
"Oh, do behave..or I'll feed you to Beastette..."
The baron straightened a bit and approached the last capsule, sizing up the figure within. It was staring at him, a cold, unfeeling, unemeotional gaze.
"Come now, don;'t you think that we know each other well enough to dispense with all the angry testosterone of normal heroics? You're at my mercy, and you know me well enough to know I won't let you get out alive. I've slaughtered all the others who've tried to stop me, carefully planned, and waited and plotted...and i knew that you'd come, try and stop me."
He leaned on the glass and smiled.
"I will admit, I'm surprised that you showed up in force. You're not one to work well with others. But, desperation and all i suppose."
The woman inside did not stir, did not move. her emerald eyes staing transfixed on the man standing before her in his fine tailored suit, hair slicked back with what she could only guess was the blood of some innocent that he'd seen fit to murder before they'd invaded his palace.
"Not saying anything? You're usually so talkative. I 'm kind of dissappointed. i was hoping to hear some of your lovely voice before i started the evening's festivities. but, i suppose that your screams as i flay the skin from your lovely body will have to suffice..."

"Spine"

"Lieutenant?"
The tall man got out of his sedan into the light September morning drizzle. The cold cut through his jacket as he lit a cigarette and stepped under the bright yellow police tape. The streets were slick with new rain and the city's own filth and something else.
"We found them like this about an hour ago. It's pretty horrific."
The tall man shrugged and motioned for the officers taking photographs to move so he could get a closer look.
Bodies, maybe five, maybe more. It was hard to tell from the distance and condition just how many there were.
Lt. Jacobson took a long drag and bent over the carnage with a noticed indifference.
"So what did this?"
"We're not sure, sir. We've not actually found any marks on any of the bodies, apart from the severe mutilation. We can't even identify what or if a weapon was used. There's no cuts, no tears, no bite marks. hell, not even a bullet wound anywhere. it's as if they just simply fell apart, all right here."
"Interesting pattern. Has forensics been out yet?"
"They just left, sir. had a few stragglers taking pictures when you got here, but they'd already gotten all they could."
Jacobson bent doen and looked closely at one of the mounds of mangled flesh. Not a scratch, not a blemish, no bruising. He'd never seen anything so perfect, so completely flawless. Who-what-ever had done this was a masterful killer, if indeed it was even something that HAD done this.
"Bag em up and try to get IDs on it."

A few days later, Jacobson's desk was covered with photographs and evidence files. There had been no witnesses, no new information found in the forensics studies. He looked over the files intently. It had been bugging him. How could there be nothing? They had to be missing something.
"Sir? We''ve got another one."

The scene was played out much as the previous one had been. Several bodies, horribly destroyed, all arranged in patterns he felt sure he'd seen before.
"Anyone have an any information on the way these things are displayed? I mean, it's obviously a pattern...but, what's it from? I know I've seen it before..."

Weeks went by and with startling certainty, every 4 days five new bodies showed up, each arranged in strange patterns. Seventeen instances in all, each in a different part of the city, the victims completely unidentifiable, no witnesses, no traces of any weapon or motive, and not one name on a single victim. The volume of people missing and the areas where the bodies were discovered didn't make any sense. There had to be nearly a hundred bodies, yet the evidence didn't point to any reported missing persons, and there was no discernable pattern to the discoveries. it was as if, all over the city, random bodies simply broke down into their component parts in large groups. Was it an epidemic? Localized spontaneous dispersion? Jacobson Stared into the pictures on his wall. What was the connection?


And then he noticed something-A realization that shook his soul and sent a chill straight up his spine...

"Chant"

Well hey there you male oppressive comic felons, with your penile substitutes in the form of superpowers and steroided vigilantes. And who are they really fighting? The image that Women are worth something and equal-no, superior- parts of society! You look through your glossy-inked pages of hyper-thyroid muscle-men and sexualy objectified women, strutting around in skin tight body paints that hide nothing and show off the female form to all the overly-stimulated sex-crazed males that form the "fanbase" of female opression. You know who you are, perpetrators-Traitors indeed- to the idea that a woman can be anything more than a victim or an object, there to be saved or conquered by your poor little boy egos.
There are the blatants- Austen, liefeld, millar, you know who you are..but, there are subtle offenders, yes...more insidious tham those that don't bother to hide the shame and torture of women on an outright basis. I'm talking to you, Mr. Moore..You, Mr. Gaiman...I'm looking right at YOU, Mrs Simone. "V for vendetta?" No, Mr Moore, V for Vagina. Leaving Evie to take over that anti-government sentiment was a torture from the start, the poor victim being forced into the life of her captor. And what about YOU mr Gaiman? Look at the women of your so-called Endless...Death, Despair, Delerium. Pain, insanity, hoelessness. Pretty clear image of how you really see the glorious female form, isn't it? And don't get me started on Gail's list of crimes. I mean, talk about a complete betrayal of all your sisters.
My ovarian allies, we must rise up against the chants of "Sexier! Less clothes! More objectifying!" and show women for how they really are, powerful, stable, unwilling to be under the boots of the so-called "heroes". Now is the time to overthrow the male dominated comicocracy (Notice how they slip Cock into everything..proof positive that everything is just an object for their sick sexual needs)
The swooning, sickening, helpless female syndrome has permiated the world of comics since they started, with "strong " women like Lois Lane and Wonder Woman being nothing more that tools for the oppression, examples of how no matter how strong a woman may be, there has to be a man behind her for her to have any merit. I ask you to show me ONE example of a strong, confident woman who doesn't need to wave her vag in the face of every man she sees to get some respect, who walks her own path, a leader for all the little girls who want to grow up to be something more than a resting lace for a man's deviant sexual perversions.
I urge you all to shred the so-called "comic" books that do such a poor job of showing what real women are like and drive the men who perpitrate the horrors upon the Gynological race into the pits of hell, to burn for their crimes of lust, and disrespect. Or don't...let them continue to push you towards the image they want you to be, weak even when at your strongest, dependant even when you're all powerful, and a victim when you let your guard down. Now, my sisters, it's time that Male Dominant Comicdom comes to an end.

"Constant"

When did everything start changing? I left, the dials and switches on my device were working properly, the little meters gaguing everything ,calibrated perfectly, when i went to retire last night. Yes, the years spent on each and every little calculation, all the effort spent to get the parts I needed to make my dream come true were finally coming to fruition, but, i never in my wildest dreams expected this. No, the table-my god, it did used to be a table, right? - bowed and swayed in tune to the droning, the gentle whirring of gears. I put on my goggles, specialy designed to see the vibrations given off by my glorious machine.
But how did it get turned on? Wait. How did it even get finished?
I did leave the parts out last evening, did I not? Now...
I watched in fascination as the thing did its work, bending the laws, adjusting the constants till they were mutable beneath my hands, all of physics just a clay to be modelled to my own whims.
But no, this isn't right. i didn't design it for THIS...
I couldn't take my eyes off of it. How could such a beautiful thing actually have been created by my hands? The colors, the shapes of bending reality and shifting paradigms had me completely captivated.
No no...I won't let this happen. The parts aren't even in the right place. The elements are wrong. I have to stop this. I reach a shaky hand towards it...
And feel beneath my fingers the fibres of life itself. I touch them warily, feeling the pulse of all living things brushing against my hand, the pulse gently synching with my own rythem. I can feel it...i feel the very spark of all life...in everything. I pull, and I feel soft shifts, renewed vigor flowing from one form to another.
NO...I feel death, Draining from the living things of this reality into another, stirring unliving flesh into action. I could almost hear their thoughts coming through, dark, hungry, and urgent. I had to put and end to this. I picked up a chair, raising it up to destroy...
How could I even consider doing this? The wonders that were being promised were like none i could imagine. I feel the chair start to mold in my hands, becoming...what was it changing into? I'd never seen such a thing, this creature warping, melting into itself, thoughts floodinging my mind with images of treasures, of power, of control over the very forces of all things, and i shuddered...
This wasn't mine. I did not do this...I tried to focus through the power and psychich energies flowing freely into my brain, eyes shut tightly to block out the visions being forced into my head, buring itself deep into my memory, my concious thoughts being subverted...i had to concentrate...
But why was i fighting this? The beatuty of chaos. Otherworldly beings of such great power wanted to share with us their madness...To resist seemed to be simply wrong. Perhaps I SHOULD give in, and let the untold horrors embrace and destroy...I could be their way, the portal. i could let them in...

"Older"

"Moooom!"
Becky clung to her mother's leg, crying into her soft, crimson scales.
"Jeremy's being mean to me!"
Becky's mom leaned down and hugged her daughter.
"And what is he doing that's so mean?"
"He's...spitting...fire...at...meeee!" Becky said between wailing sobs.
"Oh is he? Jeremy! You come in here right now!"
Jeremy poked his head into the kitchen with a look of mock surprise.
"Yeah Ma?"
"Have you been mean to your sister?"
Jeremy's face got a sheepish look and he looked down
"It was just a little fire. I wasn't gonna hurt her..."
Becky glared at him, sticking her forked tongue out in that special way only little girls can.
"You two play nice. Jere, No more teasing your sister with the fire."
"Okay, okay..." Jeremy loped back into the living room.
Becky's mother put her down and wiped her tears.
"Why cant i spit fire too, mommy?"
"Because it takes time to get your fire going ,hon. Don't worry. You'll get yours when you get older."
"but, i want to now..."
"baby, you have to be patient..now, go play nice with your brother."


"So, you want to do this huh kiddo?"
Jeremy let a long plume of flame light up the kitchen as they cleared the dinner dishes.
"You know, i can show you how "I" get my fire..."
Becky looked at him with a little sister's scepticism, but relented.
"See, it's all in what you eat."
Jeremy spoke as he gathered things from the cupboard and a large mixing bowl.
"You have to light things up with spicy foods. get them real good and hot."
Peppers, spices, hot sauce, it all went into the big bowl, and he gave it a quick stir.
"Drink this, and I promise you'll have the fire in your belly in no time!"
Becky peered into the bowl, the noxious smell causing her to wince and push it away.
"EWW! NO!"
Jeremy laughed a bit and stuck a claw into the mix, licking his finger clean.
"It works for me..."
He punctuated the last word with a small blast of teasing fire, just enough to tickle his little sister's nose.
"But, if you don't want it..."
He reached out his hands slowly for the bowl, gaguing his siter's reactions. Sure enough
"NO NO...gimmee.."
The little dragoness hurridly snatched the bowl and downed half of it with a large gulp while her brother watched intently.
"See? don't you feel it working?"


"I Can not be-LIEVE you did that to your sister!"
Becky's mom held her little girl who was once again wailing onto her shoulder.
"I was just trying to help her, mom...honest!"
Jeremy's false sincerity didn't fool his mother.
"You're just lucky she didn't get sick. Now stop teasing or I'm going to show you what REAL fire looks like..."

"Simple"

"I don't know why you always make things so hard, geez."
Erin slammed her door, leaving the white paint and "do not enter" sign swaying angrily back and forth. When did i lose my little girl? I knew she was going to grow up, but i never expected it to be this fast. Seems like only days ago she was begging me for veterinarian barbie, and suddenly she's slamming her door in my face because i won't let her go out on a school night. How could sixteen years have gone by so fast? Things used to be so simple.
Erin changed so much after her mother died. I remember her when she used to smile at me over breakfast, making funny faces with her pancakes and trying her best to get the last bit of her chocolate milk out of her cup. But, the past year had been hard on her, and me too. She started hanging out with her friends more, staying out later, and I've tried not to push her too hard, because things have been hard on both of us.
The week after the accident, we argued more than we'd ever done, but I know it was just because we were both hurting. We knew we weren't really mad at each other, just the situation, and the pain and the loss. Sometimes I wonder if she'll ever really talk to me about what happened. i know it can't be easy. She's only sixteen now, a hard age for anyone, but especially a young woman just growing up, and needing her mother. i can only do so much, and if I force her to confront things, I'm afraid I'll just push her away. I wish i knew what to do.
Amy was always the strong one, always knew just how to handle things. She'd always laugh and smile, and make everything better, even when everyone knew they really weren't. Just having her around made things seem less powerful, less important. She was our dragonslayer, our guardian, and when she ...well...when she left, i think we kinda fell apart. We're just now getting back, but it's been a hard road and we'll never quite have things back again.

I lay in the dark, staring up into the empty blackness, trying to find some light. Not even the moon is out tonight. the nights like this are the toughest. I miss her...miss her smell and her skin on mine. I miss her breathing against my chest and i miss just knowing that she's here, and safe and with her by me, so am I. So was I. I feel so weak now, so worthless. I feel like half...more than half...of who i was is just torn out of me. it's been a year, and it hurts as much as it did that second i realized she was gone...
I've tried moving on, getting life back but I don't know how, or even if I want to.
Amy is...was...no, is...my life..and I miss her. God, i miss her so much...

"Oyster"

"I tell ya, it' weren't natural."
The old boat captain shuddered beneath the blanket, dripping onto the back of the ambulance. I could tell from the sheer look of horror that still clung to his grizzled sea-aged face that what he'd been through was beyond anything I could imagine. We'd found him, clinging to a few loose boards-the only remnants of his once proud ship, the Madame Faye.
"I was haulin in my nets out by Carpenter's reef, when i seen it, starin at me. It was sittin on top'a th waters. Thought it was an otter at first, they';s common in these parts. But the sun caught it just right and I seen it for how it was."
His trembling hands clutched the cup of coffee for dear life, eyes locked in a faraway stare as if he couldn't even see the world anymore.
"Thas when i seen it crack that oyster. Didn't think nothin of it till then...it just snapped the shell with one'a those hands...those hands..."
He'd managed to stay somewhat coherent until then, but I could tell he was rapidly slipping. Poor old fella. All those years on the waters must have finally gotten to him. I walked off, heading to inspect the wreckage, when his hand reached out, the security cup of coffee he gripped so tight hitting the ground, spilling on the wet asphalt and he caught hold of my jacket, his eyes wild with an unnatural fear.
"They weren't no otters..."

I decided that it was worth a look, if nothing else to find out what had destroyed his boat. My first thought was that he'd just hit the reef as he was coming in, the dusk playing tricks on his weathered eyes. I took out a small rowboat to where we'd found him. There were still remnants of Madame Faye floating in the area. We wouldn't be able to really clean it until the morning. I ran my searchlight out over the waters stopping on each piece trying to find some signs that it may have been something besides the reef that brought her down before the tides washed the evidence out to the ocean.
I'd been out there for just over an hour and was getting ready to head in. So far I'd found nothing out of the ordinary, and was just about to write it off as another accident, when i saw it.

I can see how he'd mistake the thing for an otter. The size was about right, and the fur was a deep brown. It dove under the water before i could get a good look. I scanned my light over the waters, catching sight of it a few times. It seemed to be circling the boat, swimming laps, getting closer each time it came around. Each time i caught it in the light, it dove before I could get a really good look. I did notice small ridges along it's back, spines like a fin of some kind. Suddenly, the boat rocked, lurching to the left, nearly knocking me over and causing me to drop my light.
I scrambled to retrieve it, the bright beam moving wildly .
The boat was now rocking, as if the sea had suddenly come alive with a deep-rooted anger. I finally managed to take hold of the light, and focused it , holding onto the boat tightly.

That's when i saw it, perched on the edge of the boat, it's eyes burning deep with rage...

Premise...

Alrighty, cats and kittens here's the scoop.

Each day, I am going to write a short story.

Here are the rules:
I will grab a random book, usually a dictionary, and turn to a random page.
I will then point to a random word (I exclude "the","and" and a few other super-common words)

I then give myself 1 minute of "think time" to come up with a story involving that word, hopefully centering around it.

The story must be written entirely within that day and consist of at least 500 words.

And with the rules down, let's begin!