There was this fun writing competition thing I saw, and one of the prompts was...interesting. Here's my take on it (the beginning, at least). I've run out of ideas on what should happen next, so it's the part 1 without the part 2. Enjoy!
The Prompt: How does a pocket hanky change the world?
I've finally come to realize what pocket hankies are there for. I mean, seriously, have you ever seen a guy in a suit reach into his suit pocket, pull out the hanky, and what - wipe the sweat from his brow or blow his nose? I certainly haven't. But who has the time to think about what pocket hankies are really there for? Every one is just too busy, to worried, too stressed. Which is why they knew that pocket hankies were the ultimate weapon for changing the world. I was lost in the subway about three months ago, and decided to do some "exploring". I'm not really comfortable with subways - they're dark, gloomy, crowded, and there are hordes of creepy people. Yet, the little light bulb on top of my head lit up and said "exploring!" and so exploring it was. I climbed down the ladder and crossed the tracks to a little musty hallway. It was dusty, and beer bottles littered the floor. Then I saw the first one. He looked like a secret service agent, all dark suit and glasses, polished suit and white hanky. He pulled it out, wiped his face, scrunched it up, held it away from his face, and said "P34FT clear". And then he turned around. Towards me. And apparently this talking-into-a-hanky thing is really top secret, because he pulled out ANOTHER hanky (don't ask) and threw it at me, covering his face with the one in his hand. It landed at my feet, and I couldn't help but giggle. One high-pitched, nervous kind of giggle. Because I was smelling that anesthetic smell you find in hospitals.
Many things became apparent after I was drugged.
Apparently, being drugged makes you feel heavy and thick, not light and airy, because I so felt like a potato sack.
Apparently, only random select individuals are coincidentally chosen to enter THEIR society - which is apparently a secret society.
Apparently, the president is also part of this society, but only because his brother founded it.
Apparently the president has an evil brother
Because apparently this society is evil
Apparently, they have enough brains to realize how stupid "The Evil Secret Hanky Society" sounds, so they just call themselves US. They apparently liked being called THEM. THEY do not have an apparent name.
I apparently learned all this while I was in the anesthetic state - apparently that's nice-talk for Drugged.
And apparently the only reason everything seems so apparent to me is because this is a secret society.
am documenting this on little hankies. This building has an overabundance of hankies, but most aren't normal hankies. The president's brother is actually his twin but their eyes are different. The president want the best for those surrounding him, while his brother's eyes are full of hatred and malice. The president gave me a pen and said "Here, you might need this. Now come along with me - my brother has called." And then he took me into a dark room, all cement and blue-ish light, giving an ethereal quality to the whole room. I was dressed in beige shorts and a blazer - like something off the runway - and so I made sure to hide the pen in my blazer pocket before meeting the president's brother. He came all, all regal looking in a navy blue suit and diamond studded hanky, sat down before me, cleared his throat and began. I must've made a face, because he stopped mid-throat-clearing and gave me a look guaranteed to set fire to wood. And then he began (didn't even finish his throat clearing!)
"You, little girl, have fallen into the hornet's nest. We shall sting you until you become one of us".
I had several retorts on the tip of my tongue (like hornets would kill you before they turned you - plus only vampires can turn humans, smarty pants), but I kept quite. "We are slowly changing the world. We have realized that same and unnecessary is the best way to change what is in front of the people without letting them notice. Sergent Alexandrian will show you our collection. You may choose one that suits you. Any thoughts or concerns you may report to him. You are, of course, part of US now and you are expected to keep all you learn in the confines of your mind. You may not write, speak, or talk of what you know. Necessary measures will be taken if you disobey these rules."
I opened my mouth - to ask for his name at least, but he was already gone, leaving me with a man who very nearly resembled Hulk - without the green skin.