William Brady
Stories (2)
Filter by community
CHOCOLATE CAKE
CHOCOLATE CAKE WRITTEN BY: BILLY BRADY Hello, my name is Otis. I live to die, I was made for it, and dying I love to do. When I die, I make my killer, or killers happy, satisfied, and content. I can only imagine the looks on their faces as they finish me off. Slowly chewing me up, enjoying the delicious flavor of my moist and creamy body, eating away at it one bite at a time. Enjoyably licking what is left of me from their beautiful, satisfied, sometimes guilty faces. My only complaint is that I cannot see my perpetrators as they carry out this awful act of treachery that I so enjoy. I can only feel what they feel. A wide range of emotions that always ends with one simple word as they swallow what is left of my dark and fluffy body. Pleasure. Pleasure is what they always feel at the end of my demise. Pleasure, and the undeniable want for more. "Just one more piece" they always say, "and then I will back away." Most never back away from me. They lack the willpower and self-control it takes to ignore what I have to offer. I get inside their heads and make them think that they need me. Some I do not affect at all. They just eat me because they love me. They never feel all those extra emotions that get in the way of the true end result of my being. Pleasure. I was created for pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less.
By William Brady5 years ago in Fiction
THE BOY WITH A HEART OF GOLD
Everywhere Tiffany and I went we were treated like kings and queens. I questioned her about it one day because I thought it strange given the conditions around us. She looked at me and said, “you really don’t know do you Billy?” I looked at her with intrigue in my eyes and said, “know what Tiffany?” She smiled and took me by the hand, “follow me,” she said. We walked for about a mile and a half in silence communicating the whole time in our own special way. Somehow, we always knew what the other was thinking without having to say a word. We come upon an old plantation farmhouse. In the back of the farmhouse was a huge hay barn. Tiffany, still holding on to my hand tightly, led us straight to the barn without hesitation. As we entered, we looked to the left and there was a staircase leading up to a huge loft. Still hand and hand she practically ran full speed pulling me up the stairs. As we reached the top Tiffany took a giant leap forward pulling me air born and landing both of us in the soft, damp, surprisingly comfortable hay. We never said a word, I knew what she wanted. As we lay back in the hay still holding hands tightly, we both closed our eyes, and I went into the deepest sleep I have ever experienced. In the sleep I started to dream. In the dream was Tiffany and I walking down a dark dirt road. As we walked down the dark and scary road together, I began to check out our surroundings. It was supposed to be daylight, but it was completely dark with no sun or moon in sight. I looked at Tiffany, she looked back with a fearful and sad look in her eyes. I had never seen that from her before. She was always so confident and brave. “Where’s the sun?” I asked, “isn’t it supposed to be daylight?” “It’s gone” she said, looking at me with her head down and her sad eyes staring up at me, “the explosion took it.” It made me sad to see Tiffany like this, so hurt and afraid. She was the exact opposite in our other dream.
By William Brady5 years ago in Fiction
