Holy crap were back!

Alright, so we are back and we are giving this another shot! We are hoping to enter these into various writing forums or publications so we have stepped up the game a little bit. The themes work a little differently now than before and are a little more challenging! Here is my first entry.


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Title: Soda Fountain
Genre: Macabre
Writing restrictions: Must start in a library, must have a death, character mus drink something they have not drank in a long time.

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With walls made of bookshelves that expand into a blackness of unknown depth, it is no wonder this room was called simply the Library by those that inhabited it. No special name, no code, nothing more, just Library. However its roles are more than just a house for stories and records, it serves many dark purposes. To sum it up, it could also be considered a playhouse, but then where does the tom foolery of those who find time in abundance take place? Think back to school and the things you did in your own library. This is a room that played host to the dark dealings of the worlds utmost upper class. Individuals so rich they can afford to keep themselves a secret to the world and still have enough money left over to embarrass the Forbes top ten richest list. It is these men in this Library who have performed deplorable acts the likes of which even your wildest nightmare could not fathom. Their money has lead them from act to act, finding and delighting in new and more depraving pleasures. Their room is built very much like a pit, circular with an upper ring made of stone walls, homes to the bookshelves that contained these elitists’ records. Every quarterly gathering was held in those volumes, in all their disgusting detail. Then descending from the upper ring are two sets of stairs that fill into a Cineplex style seating before a small stage, where the public acts of just what money can buy are performed for the society. The Library is illuminated by thousands of candles on banisters, wall mounts or upon iron cast chandeliers. The Library has been home to the children of mammon for several hundred years, and tonight’s meeting promised to be its best.

Oppressing silence is pierced by the hinges of a giant, heavily decorated, iron door being swung open and the sounds of footsteps echoing about as thirty people enter into the room. Every last person who enters is between the ages of midlife and death, all except one. Dressed in uniforms of the finest clothes and one of a kind fashion items, each one of them looks as though they are attending a gala.

“ I bought the most beautiful painter the other day, she is indeed a rare gem! I have her painting the study, though I do hope she finishes soon. I grow tired of her sobbing and begging, ‘Let me free, let me free!’ Enough already!”

“Well perhaps you can send her my way when you are done with her? I wonder if she can do more than paint?”

“You are barking mad sir, her work is one of a kind. When I am done with her, what’s left goes to my prize hounds so I can keep her work as such!”

Small chit chat of this nature is exchanged between the thirty members before they finally take their seats. A moment or two to allow everyone settle into their meeting and one of their ilk stands and takes the podium in front of everyone. He is much older than the rest of the members but manages to carry the fierce visage of a predator and commands instant respect from everyone in the room. He is silent for a few more moment still, there is definitely an air of excitement from the members, after all this was a special occasion. There would be no show today, only the offer of a lifetime. A guttural growl emits from the oldest man’s throat as he clears it and speaks.

“ I know most of you are eager to get to the matter at hand. And to be frank with you all, I don’t care. Our fraternity is built on order and structure, no matter how obscure the performances in here have been. And if you, like some untrained dog do not have either of these, go and buy some.” Hold for laughter with the build of a golf clap. “Now, first let us go over old business. I would ask those of you who put on the slayings last quarter to next time do a better job at finding your players. Some of them still had living family members who became roused at their missing family members. No need to fret however, the proper people were dispatched to clean the situation and the proper people were bought. I understand some of them will be used for future performances, but that’s new business. I would like to extend a thank you to Mrs. Widow for her performance last week. Having taken her late husband’s spot in our fraternity, her True to life re-imagining marionette play of “The Jersey Devil” has no doubt raised the bar for some of you.”

The oldest man leads the children of mammon into a small ovation for Mrs. Widow before he continues with announcements.

“Finally, new business.”
The room tenses as he makes this small and yet exciting announcement.

“You all received the parcels, and I trust you disposed of their carriers (he added with a stern glare). So you no doubt are aware at the validity of what is going to be shared with us today. So I will not occupy more time than I am sure some of you are willing to spare and will allow our most esteemed guest to come and make his speech.”

The oldest man begins to make his way to his seat, leading the others in a rousing introduction as the youngest man walks to the stage and pulls the sheet off a, until now, hidden item. It was nothing more than your run of the mill Soda Fountain, which drew scorn immediately.

“Allow me to speak before you all resort to your grumblings, I assure you, you will be involved in my little joke by the time I am through! What is your biggest concern? All of you, you all share it. So What is it? Death. Don’t kid yourselves, death is the disease that no doubt some of you, if not all of you, have invested large fractions of your wealth into. I look around and I see no companionship, which no doubt means you are not willing to leave your fortunes behind, so who has control over your estates when you die? Who gets all that money? Does it just sit there? Going to waste? Does someone who will no doubt use it unwisely gain control of it and squander what you all have worked your lives, some of you generations in family, to amount? If you could snuff out that pesky little detail, you could keep that fortune for yourself, continuing to amass it to greater amounts, continuing to explore all the decadence this world has to offer you. Why, nothing would be out of your grasps, if only you could get past that one…little…hitch. Death.

Juan Ponce de Leòn found himself in Florida around 1512 trying to find the remedy for death. Herodotus believed that the answer was found in the lands of the Ethiopians. A lot of people believe you can create this elixir with something called the Philosopher’s stone through Alchemy. The point is that this story has permeated almost every civilization we can think of for the last several thousand years. I am of course talking about the Elixir of Life or,” the young man points to the soda fountain which was already drawing some laughter, “the Fountain of Youth.”

Everyone stands to clap for a wonderful and inventive means of presenting his product and the young man had the attention of every member of the ancient fraternity.

“I hope you all can excuse a young man for his desire to install a little humour, all in good fun I can assure you. I can assure you though, what I am offering is a lot more real than these tall tales. The elixir is the precise combination of several ingredients at a precise moment in time. Mix the ingredients in the wrong way and the results can be far more disastrous than you could ever want. That is why I built the elixir into this soda fountain. It allows the ingredients to be mixed at precisely the right moment, and offers up one frosty beverage.”

More chuckles from the members, the young man knew what he was doing.

“You all no doubt received a small sampler of what I have to offer and have seen what it can do. I will warn you now however. This elixir does not offer you eternal life, the continued consumption of it does. One glass full will grant you hundreds of years of life. Life without disease, life without frailty, life in the highest definition of the word. Tonight, all of you will get a sample, one glass between you all, enough for youth for another fifty years of life. After that, the recipe and the means of its creation goes to the person who wants it most.”

“And what is to stop us from having you flayed and hung on our walls now and just taking what has been prepared of the elixir so far? Time will allow us to figure out its creation.”

The young man smiled.

“The elixir is not complete. There is one thing missing, and it must come from each and every one of you. You followed the directions on your sampler. It requires your blood. One drop from the each of you. One drop and the elixir many of sought, fought and died for will be yours.”

The sounds if whispering and conversation filled the Library, for a short time. The oldest man stands up.

“We accept the offer.”

In mere moments each member was lined up, with a finger ready to be pricked and their blood placed into a small eye dropper. It was a small amount of blood to be true, but every last bit of it was squeezed into a small container in the soda fountain. All it took, at least from the spectator’s seats, was the flip of a switch. The whole process was a lot less magical than everyone expected it to be. The machine just clicked and whirred as it started mixing and chilling its most precious drink until the only noise left was the silent hum of the soda fountain keeping its precious cargo chilled. The young man placed a glass under the fountain head and turned to look at the children of mammon. A small click and the contents were being deposited into the glass.

It was as the youngest of them all was pouring the drink that all the members of the fraternity begin to feel strange. It was as if their very life essence was being drained from them. They all start to feel the same way a juice box might feel as every last part of its juice was pulled out of it by a straw. Slowly they all begin to fall to the floor, still holding onto their last twisted hopes of immortality. Perhaps this was all a part of the process, perhaps when they took that one sip they would start to feel invigorated and renewed! But that moment would never come. The members fall to the floor, their life still draining from them until they are nothing but grey corpses, devoid of the signs of life having ever been in them in the first place. The young man grabs the glass from the soda fountain and brings it to his lips. It was a taste he had been without for at least three hundred years. And every time he drank it, it was that much sweeter. It was a perfect balance of flavour, its hard to compare the taste of ones life force to something, but you could take your sweetest meal or drink and it still would not compare. The rush of life entering every facet of one’s body, gaining strength and youth from it offered the kind of feel good burn that no exercise could ever offer. The young man, now a child began to step over the bodies and up the stairs, removing a candle from the banister. No one would ever find these people. They paid to remain secrets, and secret’s they would remain, kept in cleansing fire.