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The Right to Vote
I'm going to do a poll once a month about which characters I should be focusing on. This is your chance to have a say in what's coming down the tube and let me know which stories you like best. Essentially, you get to pick what comes next. Power to the reader.
$5/month
Literature
The Convict Lockdown
Zoe is a student on summer break from college. She saw an ad for a prison museum which was Offering an overnight ghost hunt and as a Bonus the Participants are dressed in period prison uniforms and get sleep in a locked cell. They call the event Convict lockdown. Zoe is Super excited about the prison uniforms and being locked in a cell. The ghost hunt is not a big deal to her. Zoe called them and reserved Her spot, or cell as the person at the prison museum put it!
The days before the Saturday night convict lockdown and ghost hunt, Zoe was driving cross country to get to the northern state that the prison is in. It’s way up north, hell
Literature
Emma in the Chair
Its late, although I’m not sure how late as there’s no clock in my cell, when the door is opened. A woman stares at me with a brown envelope in her hand and two guards behind her.
“Wait here,” she says to the guards and walks into my cell. I realise one guard is holding an orange jumpsuit and the other transport chains. The woman closes the cell door.
“Emma, I have news for you. Your death warrant has been signed. We’re taking you to the row at the Men’s Prison, but before we go you have a choice to make.”
I’m confused and scared, “ah a choice miss?”. “Yes, you have th
Literature
Lilly in Jester prison
In the near future, a grim reality awaited those convicted of crimes deemed worthy of the ultimate punishment. In this dystopian tale, inmates found themselves transformed into jesters, their lives forever chained, both figuratively and literally. Forced to live as permanent clowns, they were condemned to wander the halls of a prison, their voices silenced, their every movement imbued with a twisted sense of amusement. Visitors were occasionally permitted inside the prison walls, and it was then that the jester inmates were compelled to perform ridiculous shows, entertaining the onlookers with their forced jests. Among the countless inmates sentenced to this bizarre existence was a young woman by the name of Lily. The day of her arrival at the jester prison was a moment forever etched in her memory. As the towering, iron-clad gates swung open, she stepped hesitantly into a realm she had never imagined. The air was heavy with a lingering sense of despair, the very aura of the prison seemingly suffocating. Lily was led through a labyrinthine maze of arched hallways, her footsteps echoing in the hollow silence. The occasional distant laughter only served to intensify the gravity of her situation. Eventually, she found herself in a dimly lit chamber, where a row of jester costumes adorned the walls. Her heart pounding, Lily approached the table in the center of the room, where a pair of somber prison guards stood solemnly. They handed her a vividly striped outfit, its colors appearing almost garish against the bleak backdrop of the prison. She unfolded the costume, and to her astonishment, she discovered that every piece of clothing was intricately adorned with tiny bells. Like a discordant symphony, these bells would jingle with each step she took, an audible reminder both to herself and others of her new existence as a jester. Overwhelmed with mixed emotions, Lily began to undress. She carefully removed her ordinary attire, relinquishing them to a forgotten past. As she donned the striped vest and pants, it felt as though she was putting on a persona rather than a mere costume. In that singular moment, Lily transformed from a person into a representation of mockery, forever confined to the role of the fool. Next came the oversized, floppy shoes. Each shoe was comically enormous, making it near impossible to walk with grace or dignity. The discomfort of the ill-fitting footwear only served to amplify Lily's sense of powerlessness. Lastly, she reached for the iconic clown wig, vibrant and unruly, a crown of absurdity. As she adjusted the wig upon her head, she caught her reflection in a cracked mirror. The once familiar face gazed back at her, now distorted by exaggerated makeup and a painted-on smile which concealed her inner turmoil. Dressed in her jester uniform, Lily took her first hesitant steps into the prison's central courtyard. The jingling of her costume's bells seemed to reverberate throughout the desolate space, filling the air with an eerie soundtrack to her sorrow. For the remainder of that day, and every day thereafter, Lily's existence became a monotonous routine. She walked the prison's halls, her chains dragging at her ankles, her voice forever suppressed. Her days melded together, each one more indistinguishable than the last. When visitors were allowed into the prison, Lily would be shuffled onto a makeshift stage, forced to perform clownish antics for their fleeting amusement. With every exaggerated stumble, every ridiculous gesture, she begrudgingly obliged, her self-worth fading further into the shadows. In the solitude of her cell, Lily would often imagine a different world, a world where chains did not bind her and ridicule did not define her. A world where she could exist as nothing more than herself, free to express her thoughts and dreams without being trapped in the perpetual mockery of a jester's existence. But in the jester prison, such dreams were nothing more than a desperate flicker in the darkness, for Lily and countless others like her were destined never to escape the irony of their fate. The jingling of bells would forever echo, a constant reminder of their transformation into permanent clowns, bound by invisible chains that would follow them to their grave.
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This came from a conversation about the Jezebel Convention with the delightful NualaTawse, where she unwisely confessed to some minor over-indulgence during the Xmas holiday. Of course I was gallant at the time ("Oh, Nuala, I'm sure it's just womanly curves."), while secretly plotting to write this story. I did let her see it before I posted it, though.
I'm binge-writing, that happens sometimes. This story is definitely stand-alone. I hope you like it and leave all the funny and serious comments I love so much.
My other stories involving Nuala: www.deviantart.com/ronniebegoo…
Mature
© 2017 - 2024 ronniebegoode
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Oh, sweet Jesus~
This was really good! Beyond just mildly erotic throughout the experience, I really liked the twist ending. It took a really dark turn I wasn't expecting when he told her to literally murder anyone who suggested eating sweets, but the best part was the last line, and I love how you just left it at that to let us infer what comes next. That's a pretty genius technique to me.
This world reminds me vaguely of the second episode of Black Mirror, where people in society are forced to pedal on exercise bikes all day to generate power and earn "merits" that they then use for food and upgrading their virtual avatars, etc. People who get fat are scorned and relegated to janitorial positions, and there are even video games (they they play while on the bikes) themed around fat people attacking like zombies and the player having to shoot them down. That, and this story, are both a sort of anti-fat dystopia, except I'd say yours is far darker! It may be "freer" in terms of daily life, but Jesus, "not fit to live"... dark!!
But great
This was really good! Beyond just mildly erotic throughout the experience, I really liked the twist ending. It took a really dark turn I wasn't expecting when he told her to literally murder anyone who suggested eating sweets, but the best part was the last line, and I love how you just left it at that to let us infer what comes next. That's a pretty genius technique to me.
This world reminds me vaguely of the second episode of Black Mirror, where people in society are forced to pedal on exercise bikes all day to generate power and earn "merits" that they then use for food and upgrading their virtual avatars, etc. People who get fat are scorned and relegated to janitorial positions, and there are even video games (they they play while on the bikes) themed around fat people attacking like zombies and the player having to shoot them down. That, and this story, are both a sort of anti-fat dystopia, except I'd say yours is far darker! It may be "freer" in terms of daily life, but Jesus, "not fit to live"... dark!!
But great