Justin Bringard

@JustinBringard

Justin Bringard, indie game dev, cook at the hop.

Utah

Joined May 2017

172 Following

17 Followers

132 Posts

Justin Bringard

@JustinBringard

15 days ago

The Return of Davenport. Throughout the time I knew Davenport, I realized there was no in between. People loved him – were drawn to him. I met him on the first day of college. I was cutting across the quad heading towards the library, as was he. A spontaneous race ensued, one that had its fair share of elbows thrown, and chances taken to trip the other. Arriving at the library, the two of us could barely stand trying to contain our laughter. We were friends on the spot. And fast friends at that. It happened as well that our areas of study, although not the exact same, were in the same realm. Meaning our studies would be quite intertwined. While I planned on writing my novel. People also hated Davenport. To an extreme I've not seen before or since. One of our mutual professors gave life to this example. Davenport, being an intelligent fellow and an apt pupil, drew the ire of this particular professor in a fashion neither of us could fathom. From day one, before introductions were made, his eye glared at Davenport. Failed grades followed. Essays and papers, written and written well, were returned with failing grades. Ideas presented in class were laughed at outright. More than once, the professor, even out of nowhere, turned his anger at Davenport and banished him from class. Needless to say, this was a class Davenport would have to take a second time. Thankfully with a different professor. It didn't matter much to Davenport. His spirits never sank. Never would he let himself dwell on the difficult things in life. He had me for that. Our adventures were many, and we two were always side-by-side. His talent for finding the mysterious was evident even then – fresh-faced though we were, he turned over every stone he came across. The school paper itself came to find him. This talent served him well as we went out into the world. Having little else in life to do, I followed Davenport out into the world to seek his breaking stories. I thought it would serve my novel well. I was right. Out in the world, we weren't quite as inseparable. Often I would have to spend time inside sitting at my laptop pounding out the words. Oftentimes it would be months that we'd go without seeing one another. It would be Paris, or London, or Casablanca, and I'd be inside. The time would come with his return and his stories of adventure. Not that I never joined him, but our disciplines were different. And I worked just as hard as he did. That we always had in common. It was indeed when we found ourselves holed up in a hotel in Manila that the end reared its ugly head. Davenport was awaiting a call from a gentleman who would be taking us to Palawan – word had been given of a sect there that Davenport was inclined to interview. I do wish I'd inquired a little more about this sect. As it was, my mind was on the beaches and the drinks. I even thought a little Filipina might be inclined to keep me company. The chance for those things was never given. Storms swept in just as we arrived, bringing the torrential rains and flooding much around us. Thinking this would dampen Davenport's spirits on the matter of the sect, I hauled myself up to my room at our new hotel. He waited not at all, spirits as buoyant as ever, and dragged me out into the storms to a dock nearby at which a catamaran was waiting. He spoke of a tiny island nearby at which the sect was waiting. At least a member of the sect willing to give an interview. I hid my head from the rains, ignoring the urge to inquire about our destination. We didn't make landfall. Waves twice the size of any I'd previously seen tossed our catamaran around like a toy. Wave after wave threatened to toss us across the room like a sullen child, only to relent and let us slide down the other side. "Don't worry, chum," Davenport called. Those being the last words I would hear from him. As he made his way to the captain, a wave grabbed us, Davenport lost his footing, taking a fall. This would be the last thing I saw on that fateful trip. We were on the wave that would toss us across the room. And the job it did. It was a wonder. The captain and I washed up later that day, after the storm had subsided, and there was no sign of Davenport or the catamaran. Months were burned in the search for Davenport. After the authorities gave up on the search, I hired professionals. My editor, wanting the next pages of my novel, came and dragged me back. By the very scruff of my neck, as it were. Life comes along whether we care for it or not. Nothing was found. Nothing was heard. It was safe to say Davenport had disappeared into the depths of the ocean. I was forced to move on. After my novel was published, I met a girl – one who had been spending her time trying to get into the pictures. Publishers threw parties, and for the second time in my life, someone was dropped in. No foot race this time, a drink meant for another young man found my face instead. He had the good sense to move. I'd had the sense to drink my night away, and therefore had no senses at all. For the second time in my life, I was joined at the hip with another person. Not that I minded. She was breathtaking, and a stealer of hearts. Mine was gone, and a little hope broke back into my world. She and I would marry and move to New York. There I began my next novel and let the years pass. A day came that an envelope was in with the rest of my mail. My first name being the only thing written on the front. An address was all that was written on the paper inside. As my lovely wife had a habit of spending her mornings with some of the other ladies at the club, I decided I had the time to see what was at the address printed on the paper. I thought to text her of my plans, but didn't. The taxi had me to the building in short order. There I found myself in front of an apartment, a key taped to the front door. This I used to get inside. Nothing furnished the apartment, not one thing. The sole thing found was another piece of paper folded so that it stood on end sitting on the counter. I picked it up. 'I need your help.' Davenport #WritingCommunity #ShortStory #AdventureFiction

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Justin Bringard

@JustinBringard

22 days ago

Had we known. Had we known. Would we have gone through with it? I honestly don't know, but I think we would have. It all started with a house we'd seen a hundred times growing up. It was fading even then, growing old and falling apart. We were back in town for our high school reunion. The four of us had palled around all throughout high school, but hadn't really kept in touch since we graduated. I'd moved to New York, Sully had gone to Miami, Chris had wound up in Boston, and Alice had gone to Hollywood. She was even doing pretty well there. None of us were in bad shape. I ran my own business, and I don't know much of what Chris and Sully were doing. I guess that's the point of a reunion. The reunion itself was about what a reunion always is. We'd gotten tipsy enough during and after we cracked open a bottle of tequila. On foot we took turns with the bottle, having a good time, laughing and joking. It came up. The house we'd known back then. The stories about it were varied. We'd heard a lot of them. We decided to go and have a look. It looked the same and older at the same time. "We should've brought a flashlight," Sully said. "Our phones will do," I said, heading to the front door. We all went in. Only three of us came out. Her jacket lay on the floor just before the door slammed shut. I was still trying to get to her – Sully and Chris hauling me back by the arms. I was screaming. What happened is still beyond my words. And I don't know if we'd do it all again. But I do know this. I'm going in there to get her. #Shortstory #WritingCommunity #Horror #FlashFiction

Justin Bringard

@JustinBringard

29 days ago

The Void I opened the front door and everything was gone. I live in a neighborhood like any other across the country, so I should have seen the house across the street. Not there. No cars parked along the street. No street. Instead I was greeted by the void. Dark, at first glance empty, but it wasn't. What could be described as clouds floated around, also dark. Other things could be heard, but not seen. The void started at my property's edge. Like anyone else, upon seeing the void that morning, my reflex was to shut the door and try again. It didn't help. So I checked the back door — the same. I lifted the blinds and opened the windows — all the same. Checking everything out, I was clued into the lack of electricity. It was early that morning, and I had been walking around my house in the dark. The plan was to go to work. My phone was alive, because it still had a charge. Its lack of signal came to my attention as well. I checked the water after that. None. I had been cut off. I was no longer where I was supposed to be — that, or the world wasn't. Gone, moved, taken, I didn't know. As I was the only one home, there were no answers forthcoming. I spent much of that day looking out into the void. I was okay for a bit. There was a solid amount of food in my cupboards and enough drinking water for a few days. I could wait that long. And I did. But nothing changed. The void kept its place. Those days didn't take long, and soon enough I was out of water. I waited another full day, but not drinking begins to suck. So the decision was made. For me, or by me — the difference didn't matter much. I stepped into the void. #ShortStory #WritingCommunity #SpecFic #VSS365

Justin Bringard

@JustinBringard

2 months ago

#WWE Winners tonight. Liv Morgan! Cody Rhodes! Jey Uso. Jade Cargill. Bron Breakker. And Trick Williams.

Who to follow

4 months ago

@Hey_AsiiF Ready

Justin Bringard

@JustinBringard

5 months ago

@Betamax_ftw @PatMcAfeeShow Agreed! No need for in game interviews.

JustinBringard retweeted

New York Yankees

@Yankees

7 months ago

It’s time.

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Justin Bringard

@JustinBringard

9 months ago

In light of the fact that I know the majority of us are unhappy about the way SNME played out last night. I think it would do us all some good to show WWE how unpleased we really are, by not giving them what they expect. They expect us to take our anger and dissatisfaction out on Gunther. I think we should give them nothing. If crickets chirped during Gunther's entrance tomorrow I think that would say everything we need to say. Don't give them what they want! #WWE #JohnCena #Gunther #RAW

Justin Bringard

@JustinBringard

9 months ago

Gunther as John Cena's last match? Is that what really happens? Could WWE have something up its sleeve? I hope so! #WWE #SNME #JohnCena

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Justin Bringard

@JustinBringard

9 months ago

Liv Morgan is back!! #WWE #SurvivorSeries

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Justin Bringard

@JustinBringard

9 months ago

The team of Charlotte Flair, Rhea Ripley, Alexa Bliss, Iyo Sky, and AJ Lee are taking the women’s War Games! Dom is taking back his title! Stephanie Vaquer retains! I’m not sure the team of Cody Rhodes, Roman Reigns, Jey Uso, Jimmy Uso, and CM Punk take their match. I’m calling shenanigans on this one. #WWE #SurvivorSeries #WarGames

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Justin Bringard

@JustinBringard

12 months ago

Question for my fellow baseball fans out there. What are everyone’s thoughts on in-game interviews? Like with managers when the broadcast does the split screen. #MLB #baseball