Jackson Blank
Bio
I do short stories, tried to do a serial life did not allow me to keep on going.
Stories (15/0)
Day 15: Power corrupts
6 am They were staring out the window, the video behind me three dead greenhorns. Cut down with a blade made out of bone. It seems they got that wish of theirs to see the game, but as victims. It was not pretty, crying, blood, guts. It was brutal and time-consuming. It was locked in an old tunnel, running, abandoning each other, like rats.
By Jackson Blank3 years ago in Futurism
Day 14:Boredom kills
9 am Up all night, I was chasing down the leads. My eyes locked on to a video taken three days ago. Our new hires, sitting in the cafe Odette, know as a place to get things on the darker side. Fixer and pimps, hang out here, procuring the ones with flash the naughties of toys.
By Jackson Blank3 years ago in Futurism
Day 13:Van
11 pm The sound of thunder rips across the Dome. Storm, shaking the world, storm awaking the globe. The only light that sick glow of telly blasting through my living room. I struggle, my eyes closing again, but another thunder blast, sending me upwards into the dark—one by one, the lights since my life signs. Forcing myself to my feet as I stumble towards the bathroom as the path lights up.
By Jackson Blank3 years ago in Futurism
Day 8: The Burn
7:30 am Pushing the burn into my body, 8 mile run today. Puked up tar and blood, spit. It was lovely as it was there on the neon light sidewalk of sector 11. Corpie rat fucks, watching me in suits costing more than my own apartment. Giving the finger with my eyes, hands on my knees as I vomit out more blood splattering along the symbol of Neo-Transmetamorph stupid bio company, sculpting without the work for all of the flash.
By Jackson Blank3 years ago in Futurism
Day 7:Clean mind
7 am Woke up too fucking early. Sitting in my hole, my cave, my pit of doom. Since I got home last night, Been cleaning worked to smell not of old takeout and dirty clothing. 12 loads of laundry running in the basement; shit, it's shocking it still runs. The machine was my father's, and before that, it was my grandmother's.
By Jackson Blank3 years ago in Futurism
Day 4: Rip me up
Sinner Alley is where we all go to get wild, no law, no chasers, and no rules. The Chasers had been chased out by bombs, blood, bullets, and blades. So, I was packing as went in, ya know, had my trust blaster. The older model still used ammo. Got myself a few rounds from Old Crazy Eyes. He aint' want a dead runner on his hands, aint' good to get more of em.
By Jackson Blank3 years ago in Futurism
