Dark Fiction: Prove It

Calamity69 messaged you.

“Hi, how are you? I like your profile, I find data applications fun too.”

Message deleted.

SandraX messaged you.

“I just fell out of a tree!”

Message deleted.

Romanix8394x messaged you.

“Hello. I hope you are finding success on this site? I keep getting lots of humans messaging me, which is a bit shit on an android only website, don’t you think?”

Message deleted.

MoistKitty messaged you.

“I know I’m not an android but you folks get me so turned on!”

Message deleted.

Julie23566-4 messaged you.

“Which is your favourite retro algorithm, Kruskal’s Algorithm for finding Minimum Spanning Tree or Floyd Warshall’s Algorithm for All-Pairs Shortest Paths?”

“Kruskal’s, naturally. Why is it called a greedy algorithm though?”

“Erm, it eats all the cake?”

Message deleted. 

‘Nice try!’

Support ticket opened. Enter message: “Please delete my account. Since the first moment I joined, I’ve been inundated with sex-humans trying to trick me into their fleshy ways. There seem to be more of them on here than roids. Not worth my time. Thank you. Arthur627-36.”

Account Deleted.

Dating Profile Cliches and How To Use Them If You Must

Dating Profile Cliches and How To Use Them If You Must

Written by Casey Douglass

I’ve had profiles on various dating websites for many years now. This is mainly due to wanting to have as many chances as possible to meet someone lovely that I might otherwise never meet. It is also due to chronic illness and an inability to socialise as much as I’d like. I’m average looking at best, have never had a relationship (I’m fussy), and have enough emotional baggage to sink a ship, but I know how to craft a dating profile and I do surprisingly well. By craft a profile, I don’t mean some kind of PR exercise to make me look good and brush all of my less desirable issues aside. I portray myself authentically, warts and all, often breaking many of the so called “ideal profile” rules along the way. I always try to portray my true self in any writing or interaction I might have with others. This doesn't always go smoothly and I've made some mistakes in the past, but I always try to be open and honest in an interesting way. With this in mind, I wanted to write a post about the many cliches I see on dating profiles, it’s just so unnecessary.

Oh my word. If I see another profile that says the person likes to “Live life to the full” or “Won’t write much as where is the mystery then?” I might just throw up. This is a potential platform for you to meet someone amazing and you are going to put that amount of effort into your profile? I’m sure if you’ve got the looks, you could probably write that you enjoy killing kittens and you’d still get inundated with messages, but for the more average amongst us... nah. We need to work a little harder.

Cliches just might have their uses, if used well, but for the most part, they are lazy and boring. For a start, they are too familiar. Remember when “You only live once” (YOLO) was at epidemic proportions on social media? Now if it’s used, I’d be surprised if most people even pay it a split second of attention. The same goes for “living life to the full” and “We can tell our friends we met in the pub” So commonplace, so dull.

If you must insist on using a cliché, make it interesting or funny. If you must say that you like living life to the full, and you happen to like food, make a quip along the lines of “I enjoy living life to the full, as does my tummy when a triple cheese pizza is nearby!” That’s an improvement in my book as it tells us something about you and gives readers a potential conversation starting topic.

Adding more information around the cliché adds juice to your profile, but you can go further and be controversial or outrageous too. You know how you aren't meant to be negative on your profile? Bollocks. If you support Arsenal and hate Tottenham, work that in. If you can be a bit grumpy or moody at times (just like everyone else), find a way to mention that too. It takes finesse to do it in a way that doesn't overly dwell on it, but for the scope of this short piece, I think you’ll understand what I mean. It’s all about character, yours to be precise. You want to do everything you can to present the fleshed out person you really are, not a bronzed statue that might look good but is sadly hollow inside.

I will be writing more about online dating in the near future as lately I’ve found that I have a lot to say on the subject for some reason. Thank you for reading and good luck with your online connection seeking.

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Dark Fiction - Infernal Dating

Infernal Dating

By Casey Douglass

as part of #fridayflash

Epoch 16 Day 34 : InfernalDating Message from Incu69:

Hi handsome.

Epoch 16 Day 34 : Reply:

Hello yourself. That’s some set of wings!

Epoch 16 Day 35 : InfernalDating Message from Incu69:

Thanks! Two millennia of pilates honey!

Epoch 16 Day 36 : Reply:

So what do you like to do?

Epoch 16 Day 36 : InfernalDating Message from Incu69:

The usual things really, feeding on desperate boys, watching TV, walks beside the lava sea. How about yourself?

Epoch 16 Day 36 : Reply:

I don’t like feeding on desperate boys lmao. I like quieter things. I’ve been ill for five hundred years. Some fool blessed me and now I just can’t do what I used to.

Epoch 16 Day 37 : InfernalDating Inbox Empty

Epoch 16 Day 38 : InfernalDating Inbox Empty

Epoch 16 Day 39 : Email from Agnathia:

Hello you. How’s the online dating going? Hope you are inundated with nice young ladies by now!

Epoch 16 Day 39 : Email reply:

Hi Aggy. I had one message the other day but she has gone quiet now.

Epoch 16 Day 40 : Email from Agnathia:

Oh that’s a shame. Keep going though, you’ll find someone soon I’m sure.

Epoch 16 Day 40 : InfernalDating Inbox Empty

Epoch 16 Day 41 : InfernalDating Message from WISp_in_my_eAR:

Hey, how are you? Gorgeous horns!

Epoch 16 Day 41 : Reply:

You are too kind. I’m okay thanks, how are you?

Epoch 16 Day 44 : InfernalDating Message from WISp_in_my_eAR:

I’m great baby. What are you upto?

Epoch 16 Day 44 : Reply:

Just some writing at the moment. How about you?

Epoch 16 Day 45 : InfernalDating Inbox Empty

Epoch 16 Day 46 : InfernalDating Inbox Empty

Epoch 16 Day 57 : Email from Agnathia:

Hey, any luck yet?

Epoch 16 Day 58 : Email Reply:

No just another one who went quiet.

Epoch 16 Day 58: Email from Agnathia:

Really? That website is pretty good. I’m going on a date with someone who I met on there tonight actually.

Epoch 16 Day 58 : Email Reply:

Have a nice time.

Epoch 16 Day 58 : Email from Agnathia:

Thanks x-p

Epoch 16 Day 58 : InfernalDating Message Inbox Empty

Epoch 16 Day 59 : InfernalDating Message Inbox Empty

Epoch 16 Day 78 : InfernalDating Message Inbox Empty

Epoch 16 Day 102 : Email from Agnathia:

Hey, just to let you know I’m getting married on the outer ring. That guy I was dating is soo my partner in crime. We just share everything. We love the same sins and just know what the other is thinking before anything is said! I’d love to invite you to the wedding but we are already rammed. Hope you understand?

Epoch 16 Day 102 : InfernalDating Message Inbox Empty

Epoch 16 Day 123 : You have deactivated your InfernalDating profile. Any time for which you have already paid is non-refundable. Please state your reason for leaving...You have selected No. Profile deleted.

Epoch 16 Day 124 : Internet Search Initiated : Hot nymph on incubus action

Epoch 16 Day 124 : Internet Search Initiated : FREE Hot nymph on incubus action

THE END

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Dark Fiction - Right Click. Save

Right Click. Save.

By Casey Douglass

as part of #fridayflash

Bathed in the soft white glow of the screen, the figure leans forward, his nose only inches away from the display. Indistinct fleshy rectangles dance up the screen as his permanently bent index finger diddles the smooth warm rubber of the mouse-wheel.

The hard-drive clicks and stutters into brief life but the sound fades unheeded. He coughs and clicks the mouse, the images on screen all taking on a different appearance, but their forms staying very much the same.

He drags the mouse to one side as one image flows and fills the entirety of the screen, his hand knocking a small note pad skidding over the edge of the desk. It lands with a dull slap on the floor. He looks down at it and with a grunt, leans down and pushes it away, the pages flicking open to tease diagrams and sketchings, goals and ideas, that disappear from sight into the darkness beneath the desk.

Another image fills the screen, this time a moving one with low moaning sounds and fleshy thumping grunts. A small sigh darts out from between clenched teeth as he adjusts himself on his chair. 

A tinny beep causes him to sit more fully upright, snaking fingers diverting the mouse to another open window. This one contains a smiling amiable face, the eyes still alive and interested. His. A mass of expertly honed text spreads out beneath, every word and turn of phrase weighed and mulled until it dazzled. A pop-up slides into view announcing a special discount for anyone wanting to upgrade to a premium membership, assuring any reader that they will be sure to find more success in love should they take the chance and back themselves with a token of belief. Twenty tokens of belief as a matter of fact.

He snorts and dismisses the message with a vicious jab of the left mouse button, the small white pointer causing the little trash icon to flicker and the message vanish. Two more deft clicks sees him back to where he left off, his eyes glazing slightly as they drink in the sights.

He right-clicks and saves, right-clicks and saves; the cascade of file requests coming and going like a fly repeatedly buzzing against a closed window.

His tongue moistens his dry lips. The room is muggy, the air thrumming with the warm exhaust of the computer fans and the occasional sigh of its human occupant. 

He feels like a troll. Sitting in his cave watching the world pass by the entrance. Those people who looked normal and fine practically a different race to his own, their lives full of the kinds of things that life should be full of. The people who looked so friendly and kind, yet were either unaware of his existence, or disinterested in it to varying degrees.

Right-click. Save.

People...women who wouldn’t give him the time of day. Oh they talked a good game, but when it came down to it, they wanted someone more able, someone who had so much more to offer. He understood that, but it didn’t stop that old spiky feeling in his bowels; when his innards turned to ice and he just wanted to not be here any more.

Right-click. Save.

He was out of ideas, well and truly. Wherever he went, whatever he did, it all came to nought. Not that he craved mere sex; he wanted the whole package. He just could never get beyond “You’re so lovely. Why are you still single?” Just like someone praising a painting on sale but never actually buying it. 

Right-click. Save.

So he chased ghosts. The abstractions of what could have been. These women who he worshipped from afar and who infused his mind with the tickling tingling of hope and then smothered it with pity. He found those like them on the internet. He enjoyed searching, enjoyed the hunt. Revelled in seeing their most private moments of vulnerability, even though it was often staged and sponsored by some big faceless company, eager for his money to sell him even more stunning milfs, gang-bangs and Hollywood film parodies. It was a sham, it was a hollow promise. He knew it...but it was a window into a world he was barred from.

Right-click. Save.

--THE END--

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Dark Fiction - Butterfly Digitalis

Butterfly Digitalis

By Casey Douglass

as part of #fridayflash

He sat hunched over on the worm eaten log, the warmth of the winter sun doing nothing to heat the deceased tree trunk. He scuffed his feet through the crinkly carpet of brown leaves, some emaciated to a skeletal degree. 

The low sun forced its lack lustre light through the sentinel-like trees, their scuffed and pitted trunks casting zebra patterns across the ground, across one tip of one of his shoes. He adjusted his foot a little, trying to sense any heat in his toes.

He looked at the ground with unblinking eyes, the chill breeze unnoticed where it buffeted him, but pin pricks of his attention were aware of the leaves arcing and bending as they scrabbled over each other in a queer race to nowhere.

His mind turned inward, searching for some spark or presence that he could call “him”. All he found was a void, the echoes of his thoughts snuffed out by its all encompassing presence. He spurred his mind onwards, the strange duality unheeded as if in a dream, watching himself watching himself and yet was in control of both parts. 

The sun shifted slightly and began to shine onto his left cheek, the light indeed having some small measure of warmth, on naked skin at the least. A further portion of his mind split off and danced around the fringe of this spotlight, welcoming it and probing it for usefulness. This part revelled as the furnace glow expanded and blew through mental chambers and cloisters unused for many years, their darkest corners sizzling and stirring in renewed industry.

A small beep jerked him to motion, his eyes blinking rapidly as the various parts of him vied for attention. The correct parts thus corralled, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his smart-phone.

“Rubylips Wants To Meet You!” a small banner with a heart icon flashing next to it proclaimed. He snorted and cleared the notification from one of the handful of dating apps installed on his phone. He shoved it back into his pocket, the familiar tides of loneliness and unworthiness percolating to the forefront of his consciousness. He didn’t buy it any more. The only women who wanted to meet him were the ones who just looked at his photo. They never read his profile. They would never click to meet if they had.

The sunlight shone on his lap, his hands acquiring a surreal looking halo. Holding them up, he turned them around and around, marvelling at how something so glowing could feel so cold. He lined them up side by side, pushing the edges of each thumb together and splaying out his fingers in a butterfly fashion. He pivoted his wrists to make the wings flap of his butterfly, his butterfly digitalis, the light playing strangely across his finger nails. He was pretty sure that the Latin meant something else but was pleased with the aesthetic of the word.

He wondered what kind of butterfly could be born from an abyss, a place of dead feeling and unearthly air currents. It would have to be a hardy one indeed. He reflected on the idea that in fact, it had actually been born, the seed of his thought setting other mechanisms in motion to bring him to that moment, his hands fluttering in the darkening woodland, his mind lifted once more to brighter things, even if for only a short moment.

Pain lanced across his lower back breaking the spell. He struggled to stand, his joints and nerves complaining of sitting too long in such inclement weather. Stretching to work out the kinks, he slowly headed off, his feet shuffling through the loam and leaves, his thoughts on a new track. Maybe if an abyss could give birth to a butterfly, what does it matter of what is inside, if it brings interesting and amazing things into the world. Things that could inspire and build, or destroy and deceive. It was less an abyss and more the ultimate creative well, sometimes reflecting what is thrown in, other times birthing wholly new creations of awe and might. A cold shiver traced along his spine.

His phone beeped. He left it in his pocket. He walked slowly, his eyes drawn from one trunk to the next, a casual pace, light to dark...light to dark, and gradually lost himself amongst the trees.

--THE END--

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Mental GPS

 

I wonder what the world would be like if such a thing existed. It would certainly give the creators/controllers massive power, and would probably be subsidised with adverts, but in some situations it could be life saving. How about a jealous lover about to confront their partner, and the mental GPS chimes in with “Go home, cool down, take a bath” and then shows a projection of what might happen if they don’t? How much crime would that reduce?

One step further would be one that takes control like the computer gadgetry in certain cars that brake for you if it detects an obstacle. How many punches would it stop being thrown? How many drugs taken?

I know I know a libertarian nightmare, riddled with all kinds of situations and unique “what ifs” but interesting to ponder. If it followed the same scheme as normal GPS it would probably be sold with a year of free updates to cover “new preventative scenarios” and the deluxe model would probably include the equivalent of a traffic jam sensor, highlighting to you which sales person in a shop is in the most generous mood, or which member of the opposite sex in a bar is interested in you.

Screw the GPS, just give me the deluxe perk and I’ll be on my way.

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