To improve my writing, I'll be writing a short story every day. Some will be incredibly short, some incredibly long and most will be garbage. But, I'm hoping that out of this I'll make something I'm truly proud of.

Andrew sat in his chair, holding his head in his hands, elbows resting on his desk. His tears had dried ages ago but not before the shriveled flower. A single flower, a red rose in a vase sitting beside his monitor. Today was day two hundred and forty. Andrew looked up at his monitor again with bloodshot eyes, re-reading the results from the last test. As always, the computer gave him a recommendation- dispose of the subject. This was the 34th time. Scratching his beard, Andrew stood up and walked downstairs. He ignored the coat hanging idly by the door, he couldn't afford to think about it. Andrew went into his basement by unlocking a thick steel door, taking it one step at a time. The lights turned on, revealing nothing except a woman strapped to a table, crying out in pain. Andrew retrieved an old Soviet Era pistol, the only of it's kind known to be truly silent. He flicked the safety off and shot the woman in the head twice. That would have to do, the gun only held 2 rounds. No shells hit the ground, only the sound of bone being shattered could be heard. 

Clearing his throat, Andrew pocketed the pistol and retrieved a pocket recorder. He began "Subject- huh, it's weird hearing my voice... subject 7 trial 34 unsuccessful. Human subject has been killed, usual method. Subject will now undergo incineration."


A violin played in a busy subway. People passed the violinist, few bothering to pay any attention. Where they lost however, Andrew gained. He paused by the violinist and dropped 2o dollars into her violin case. He asked "What's your name?"


Andrew felt for the first time in weeks true panic. He forced a smile "That's a nice name."

Rose laughed "You always flirt with girls that don't know your name?"

Andrew looked pale. He nodded "Well, I- I try."

Rose stood up "You're not from around here are you?"

Andrew scratched the back of his head, he began to look as uncomfortable as he felt. "Not really."

Rose laughed "That's still no excuse for missing the poster." She stood up and pointed to a huge poster she had just been sitting beneath. It was for a college theater, a free night of entertainment. 

Andrew shook his head in disbelief "So you were-"

"Advertising, yes."

Andrew laughed, the first time in weeks. He asked "Do you want to go? To the theater, I mean, tonight."

Rose smiled "Well, if I see you I'll see you. Lose the lab coat by the way, you look like a mad scientist with that- a, bearded, dirty mad scientist." 


The clock ticked quickly in Andrew's house. He cleaned himself up and made himself presentable in every respect. His shoes were cleaned, he wore a suit, took a shower and most importantly, prepared his red pen. That was crucial. Tonight he would have to make due with improve or he'd never see her again. 

So Andrew went to the theater and searched for Rose. Precious minutes passed to no avail, until he found her. She was onstage, playing a song that could melt the hardest of hearts. To Andrew, the world felt like it was spinning faster. He ignored any feelings he had and stalked Rose when she left the theater. He followed her closer and closer, fingering his red pen. His footsteps became louder on the sidewalk and she looked behind her. Andrew froze in his tracks, swallowing. He stuttered "H-hi."

Rose grinned "H-h-hi. N-nice to see you again."

Andrew hesitantly laughed. Rose asked "What's got you all worked up anyways?"

Andrew swallowed "My wife... she looks like you."

Rose took a step back and put her hands out "That's creepy."

Andrew grew impatient. "I meant was, she died."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be... I just, I just want to hug her again. I didn't get to say goodbye."

Andrew took a few steps forwards and hugged a bewildered Rose. He took a needle out of his red pen and stabbed Rose. She pushed him away, yelling "What the fuck?! Wh-wha did you..."

She collapsed into his arms, helpless and mumbling gibberish. Andrew walked her back to his car, occasionally telling passer by's "She had a bit too much too drink." 


Rose was now on a table in Andrew's basement. Her vision was cloudy, all she could see was Andrew staring at her, holding a syringe in his hand. Rose asked "Why..."

Andrew sighed "I have to bring her back Rose. You're going to help me." 

Rose yelled "Let me go!"

"I shouldn't have waited for you to wake. Beginning trial 37, subject 8."

Andrew began to press a needle into Rose's arm, then stopped. His eyes focused on a red rose in her dress. Without a word, Andrew left the basement. 

The End

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