/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.4024310]

make a story from this .jpg
-from /k/ with love

[Anonymous No.4024337]

This picture looks like a scene from some shitty 1940's revenge story about a WWII vet who's come home from the war both jaded and angered at poor choices made by corrupt bureaucrats and generals. He's a womanizer, but that's just a fleeting escape from the haunting memories of the brutal deaths of his brothers in arms overseas. Having been a POW, he saw them tortured for years and later learned there was no plan of action to free them. So, he plans to kill said politicians and generals to avenge them. This picture is a scene just before he planned on storming a meeting of the remaining 9 officials. He knows he's likely marching to his death, so he gets a quick lay in before loading his guns and preparing for the end.

[Anonymous No.4024389]

>>4024337
That's pretty good

[Anonymous No.4024397]

>>4024337
8/10 Would adapt into motion picture

[Anonymous No.4024399]

>>4024310

>tfw no gun moll

[Anonymous No.4024412]

Five men dead and many more to go.
The bitch on the bed is smoking that cheap shit from the corner store down the street, and she smelt like it too. Green walls again. How many fucking green walls have I seen now? How many nights spent in some hussies house, convinces her that I gave a shit while cleaning guns and crossing faces.
Next week won't be different. Different room, different girl, but same gun, same purpose.
Six men dead and many more to go. God, what the fuck am I doing?

[Anonymous No.4024413]

[sage No.4024416]

>>4024337
>>4024412
pls continue

[OP No.4024419]

i like the first story better!

[Anonymous No.4024432]

>>4024310
it was the same as every other goddamn night. Her on the bed, mirrin, wanting to fuck - while I loaded up and got ready to do what had to be done.
"Harold, why don't you stay in tonight"
I looked at her and then looked away, poor girl.
"I'll be back when you wake up, I'll bring waffles"
"okay"
Tonight it was going to be another goddamn bloodbath.

[Anonymous No.4024449]

The Queen
Five, Johnny had already killed five of them, and by the looks of it there was going to be one more X on my wall before dawn. Oh Johnny Boy, dumb as a door nob but he was an artist when it came to killing, and he belonged to her. A careful phrase with a smile here, the occasional fuck there and he was hers. It's take a few more like Johnny to own this town but that wouldn't take to long, once the others were gone she would rule this town, she'd be The Queen

[Anonymous No.4024450]

>>4024310
The last little bullet slides through my sweaty fingers and drops and I half turn, embarrassed, and there's... something, right there behind her eyes. A kind of bored expectancy. A predator's sleepy watchfulness. Then she smiles at me, and it's gone. I smile back as I reach for the bullet, and I turn again to see the face of the next man. A curl of smoke arcs up past my head through the hot close air as she exhales, and suddenly I'm wondering if any of it's true. What did these black-and-white faces do to her? Did she even know them?

She uncurls beside me and a hand reaches up to brush my hair. Her body closes around mine in the silence, and I slot the last little bullet into the chamber.

[Anonymous No.4024453]

>>4024449
inb4 spelling/grammar erros, it's late you get the gist.

[Anonymous No.4024451]

Smoke rings escape from between her lips. "How's the cleaning going, Johnny." She lashes his name at him. "Fine, Gloria," her name an exasperation, "would be done faster if you helped though."
"Oh you know I couldn't do that, lady like me might break a nail," she throws her legs over the end of the bed, put her head on his lap and look up, smoke rings, "we have work to do tomorrow, still 9 to go, I have to look pretty to play my part, remember"
He looks her in the eyes "I know, I know, and you do look pretty," a smirk spreads across her face, "so if you could please get your head off my dick so I can finish cleaning" the smirk turns into a frown as she rolls off the bed and stands akimbo in front of him, her voice stern.
"Fine, be like that, I swear before we finish this I'll make you want me, even if it means wearing trousers." A smile briefly runs across his face at the note of disgust in her voice before he refocuses on the cleaning, coolly, "Good luck Gloria, you won't be the first try and you wont be the first to fail."

[Anonymous No.4024483]

Sitting on the bed, I start to wonder whether all this blood and violence will satisfy the anger and resentment that has boiled up inside of me. My fingers ache with every swipe of cloth against the sleek metal of the gun. This weapon has become part of me, like an extension of my arm. It is organic, fluid, smooth. Its shiny metallic body is as beautiful as my usual one stand woman.

"Are you just going to sit there and clean the damn thing, or are you actually going to use it?" the soiled dove speaks in a half disappointed voice.

" Why do you care about my intentions?" I question.

" Well, you are the one who just paid $20 dollars for my experienced body, and now you let me watch you clean all those guns. Why wouldn't I be curious."

She had a point. My mind had completely shifted to a separate world. Her silky skin rubbing against my limestone body. I feel like she is the gun. She is my weapon. My tool of revenge. Her will is the same as mine. She won't fail me. She cannot fail me. For if she fails me, then I fail. My own failure doesn't stress me. As long as those remaining make the same mistakes as I do, then i am content.

[OP No.4024605]

Kay listen up /lit/ fags! GG with the 5000 characters under 1 hour shit. I want this thread to be back at the top of page [1] no, [0]!, by the time I (you) wake up tomorrow or all you faggots are FIRED! except you >>4024337 your cool

[Anonymous No.4024608]

Lex Lugar Von Kruger stuffed up the clip into the chamber of the clip holder and said, "God Damn! this isn't even a machine fire gun! It's some antique load 'er-in-the-side-model." He threw the gun away in disgust. It's parts and pieces, wood stock and loose metallic component ill assembled clattered hushed on the soft cropped red shag of the bed room of his boyhood.

"Now these old guns; you can't go wrong there. About as simple as a machines come, simple as a sword, heh heh heh, HAHAHAH." Betsy Auff, neighbor, came sneaking over in her underwears for the thrill simply elbowed her flared hip hard enough to bring a drag of the grass laced Cristo Royal she had got at the hap club down by the sorority that night up for a pull; real jazzy but you know still with it, white band and all, not one of those mix it up joints.

"This here," he said holding up the revolver, "is a revolver baby." He puled the thing that let the chamber spin spin and spun it round real fast like a western hot shot-o, then with a wrist flick fired the wheel snap back into the bore and handle and stuff. "Reliable as an old pinwheel." Betsy rubbed her razor cropped calves and blew to the window so Old Mother Strum wouldn't smell the off tobacco. The shade blown crooked by the removal of the guns from under the bed in one big excited haul now cast the lime green walls littered with clips of the famously executed and their famous executioners a late hour glass shape that started Bets yawning as she thought the smoke as sand drops dripping on.

"Now," said Lex, “this is the genuine article here.” He scooped the large stock bolt rifle off the floor and slang the bolt back hard through its tracking so it snapped with nice military clack, then seeing the chamber clear said, “all clear here Bets. ha ha” Then snapped it with a quick maneuver back. “Other over is the same 'sept older, don't want to go slamming it around just to impress a hot piece like you.”
“Not at all my little Lugar. Tell me who are you going to assassinate?”
Lex looked on wild eyed for a moment before, “You need to quit it with that grass Blinda. Your talking like I don't know what. Like a fool whole's got some damn fool ideas about things”
“And the sword then.”
“Woo Wee, sharp as they come, and you see that diced pommel, can drive a man's eye out his socket if you hit him right."

Le End of Le Story of Le Girl and Le Guns

[OP No.4024628]

>>4024608

WHO LET YOU OUT OF THE OFFICE CLOSET?

[Anonymous No.4024641]

>>4024310
"You sure about this, /k/? Don't get me wrong, you're a good customer an' all, it's just that when most men pay for some company, they at least like to touch-"
"H-hush now, lady. I'm going to disassemble this one in TWO minutes, and then you can tell me how impressed you are."
"Sure thing, /k/. Sure thing."

[Anonymous No.4024698]

>>4024337 here again
There is no one outside the meeting place, but each man has his own personal bodyguard with him inside. They'd been tipped about the others, and it seems their meeting only further proves their collaboration... and their guilt. He had done his research and knew they were at fault, but there was always a shadow of a doubt. It was relieving having the light shed.
The men met in an innocent building. A large office behind a smoking shop on the outskirts of the city. Old Tommy was light in his hands.
The door opened with a hard shove, bullets fired with a bright bang, flesh tore with a light rip, and wounds gushed with a loud silence.
Sirens rang.

[Anonymous No.4024707]

>>4024310
She was supposed to be a hired gun. He was supposed to be a police officer.

The woman on the bed is being paid ten thousand dollars for each head plastered on her wall. Those men are figureheads. Has-beens, activists, soldiers and wannabes. It doesn't really matter, though. She knows none of them personally, and thankfully for her, she will never need to.

The man is a tired cop. A church-goer. He only ever joined the police force because he never had much direction. After dropping out of high school, you can't really blame him. No one will take in that kind of person. He swallowed his failures, telling himself he'd just move on. That's what he dedicated his life to. Now, years later, he's dissociated from most things. He cares about his friends and his wife, but everyone else is a bag of meat. He was seduced by the woman beside him.

They had an affair lasting months. Only after they truly thought they knew each other did their relationship develop into something more. The woman asked the man to kill certain people for her. She didn't say why, and the man didn't care. All that he knew is that he would get three thousand dollars for each.

I didn't proofread, so don't crucify me for any errors.

[Anonymous No.4024709]

So what do you guys think of
>>4024707
?

[Anonymous No.4024759]

>>4024707
I liked it until the woman was paying the cop to kill people. That just doesn't seem believable.

[Anonymous No.4024757]

[Anonymous No.4024774]

>>4024310
Why is she lying down in such an uncomfortable position?

[Anonymous No.4024780]

>>4024774
Dames gonna dame.

[Anonymous No.4024833]

>>4024774
She's a hipster

[Anonymous No.4025036]

>>4024310
It wasn't the Feds that finally got the notorious Tim Turner, but the fashion police. No one should be allowed to wear a black belt with brown shoes.

[Anonymous No.4025571]

>>4025036
>not mentioning his absurdly short trouser legs

[Anonymous No.4025617]

what horrible anatomy

[Anonymous No.4025639]

>>4024757
10/10 would find and read it in grandpa's garage

[Anonymous No.4025642]

>>4024310
A SHITLORD PUSHING THE PATRIARCHAL RAPE CULTURE UPON SOMEONE WHO IDENTIFYS AS A WOMYN

[Anonymous No.4025644]

>>4025617
This, no woman can be anorexic while still having those tits and especially those hips

[Anonymous No.4025657]

>>4025644

[Anonymous No.4025661]

>>4025617
>>4025644

[Anonymous No.4025680]

>>4025661
That's a terrible, self-defeating cartoon in so many ways

[Anonymous No.4025684]

>>4025680

[Anonymous No.4025717]

>>4025661
calling a skinny woman "anorexic" is ableist dumdass, srs knows better

the gun sat uncomfortably between Jake's legs like a primitive phallic charm. he brushed his hands up and down the stock, tapping the magazine, feeling its weight. the gun, which without ordinary senses had only a dim sense of purpose, tore at itself in despair.
"stop," the gun said. Jake heard nothing and continued cleaning the barrel.
"please, stop," the gun repeated. Jake's eyes gleamed with determination. he would kill Maddie's husband, and she would marry another wealthy man; and he would kill again, and then they would marry. Jake turned and smiled.
"Maddie, you're a real woman."

[Anonymous No.4025737]

>>4024337
Neat as fuck.

[Anonymous No.4025775]

He had to repair that shitty lamp. Couldn't remember when it was fixed, like his damn life. Well, it didn't matter now, tomorrow it was going to end anyway. The sex doll to his right was in a posture from one of these old movie poster. Holding a cigarette in a supposedly empowering manner yet with her promiscuous getup she sold herself out to the cheapest bidder. "Why did I steal the fucking thing?" he wondered. It was some Wednesday night when he found her, he remembered. All dressed up a nice bride gown and underneath the filth she was wearing now.

He went back to cleaning his gun collection in preparation for the big day tomorrow. "It'll all end tomorrow" he kept murmuring to himself. Everything he saw in this moment was going to be in the past only a few hours from now. The pictures at the wall and the newspaper articles reminded him of why he was doing this. Out of the whole bunch five are already gone. He himself witnessed when it happened. "Fuck them." he shrugged it off.

He finished the Thompson and put it and the Springfield back into the drawer. Then he went to bed. Tomorrow he would move out of the dorm and back into his mothers basement. He'll not miss his Professors.

[Anonymous No.4025815]

>>4024310
I laid on my bed, legs sprawled hanging off the side of the mattress. Smoking my last Pall Mall before me and Johnny went to rob a wells fargo. Before every mission me and Johnny have sex then he gets straight to working on our guns.

This day was nothing unusual about the scene. Guns set out in an orderly fashion, Johnny examining the weapons preparing them just in case we had to use them. He occasionally glances at my my body, rubbing my leg gently and staring into my eyes with his soft baby blue pupils. Johnny is my everything, but I fear this may be the last time I see him, for I know something that he does not, and it will effect his life forever. My sweet sweet Johnny this is our last encounter, I want to leave a lasting impression on you my dear. I want you to always remember me before this tragic ending.

[OP No.4026040]

>>4025642
okay ya see.. "the internet doesn't hate you for being a woman, we hate you because you are a horrible person" -Amazing Atheist

[Anonymous No.4026055]

>>4024310
Charlie has his gun


It's late night, summer, a small apartment in hoboken Jersey. Christopher is playing with his 'rare' guns collection while Maria smokes her 12th cigarette of the day. There a pictures on the wall, some crossed out in red ink or paint, the others have no marking.

CHRISTOPHER: (there is a tone of reservation in his voice) Maria... I (he stammers) I think I've been doing the wrong thing.
MARIA: (Still smoking, not looking in his direction). Whatever.

Christopher continues playing with his weapons as maria continues smoking. They do not speak.

[Anonymous No.4026081]

An avid reader, she hadn't minded when he'd tipped the lampshade to fit his murder scheme on the wall above the bed. Twenty dollar rent and you don't care how you decorate; off kilter light, and the rhythm of field stripping and chain smoking half-bare in the sultry late summer flat was background amusement enough for her the past three weeks. She thought about starting a fight about how he could spend his time killing for real money not some vendetta, so as she could have a dressing gown not made out of the same material as the blanket cover, or how she could beat the soles of his feet at night with the flat of the sword sometime.

Most of the time when she smiled during the long near-silence of those endless smoke sucking, metal clicking, disengaging and oiling sessions however, it was because she'd written the mystery man's name on the far side of her reading chair a month back with the blanket's quilting wool and a knitting needle, and Jim was now more than three full weeks none the wiser.

[Anonymous No.4026124]

There's a whistling sound coming from the window that wouldn't close proper and a banging of the motel sign.
He's at his guns again, more metal than the one he was holding an hour ago, staring me in the eyes, scaring me a bit.
These guns don't scare me, that sword's not pointed at me.
I never liked the way he wore socks the color of his jeans or whatever he was wearing. Looks silly. I say so, he doesn't agree.
Best not anger him. Last time we got in a fight he was so devoured by it they got him in the shoulder. Lucky he got mad at them then.
The banging of the sign's stopped, so's the whistling sound.
He's leaning into me, and as I lean towards him, he backs away and rises from the bed, a pillow in one hand, a gun in the other.