CNF- Food Review

Around a year ago, I went with my family to a barbecue. My uncle was at the grill; the delicious, smoky smell of meat emanating from his post. He flipped hot dogs and burgers gracefully, with blinding speed, and when the were done they flew into buns. I remember taking a bite of the savory cheeseburger; with ketchup, mustard, pickles, lettuce and tomato, it was the perfect blend of flavors.
This was not that burger.
As I stumbled up to the counter, I was greeted by the pleasing aroma of bacon. My expectations were heightened, and I ran up to the stove where the patties had been laid out. I took out a plate and put the ingredients onto the bun as usual, stopping to place a mound of bacon in between it all. I did not, however, realize that the patties and bacon had been overcooked, and were tough and charred. I simply carried on and went back to the computer with my dinner.
When I took the first bite of that burger, I didn't notice anything wrong with it. I just tasted a whole lot of bacon, and of course that was perfectly fine with me. But after a little while my chewing slowed down and a bit of a frown threw itself onto my face. The tough and overcooked meat was difficult to chew, and I could hardly taste the bacon. To top it all off, the buns were stale and dry, which couldn't be countered by all of the toppings. To be honest, I wouldn't mind any of this had the bacon been okay, but it was rock-hard and as tasteless as the plate it rested on. I checked the date; it was my sister's turn to cook dinner. I immediately facepalmed and carried on chewing, cursing my sister for being the only person alive who could ruin bacon.

Alternative Prompt (CNF)

What's in a name? I know nearly nothing about mine, and yet it holds plenty of stories within. My first name, John, came from my late uncle John. But my father never really talks about him, and I'm not sure how he died or who he was. Although mysteries are usually intriguing and make for good tales, I had never even heard of him until I was around ten years old and saw a picture of him. He was fifteen when it was taken, and he looked surprisingly like I do today. Strange how that type of thing works out. My last name, Binsch, comes from a much more complicated story, involving Italian and German battles. Both sides fought on a battlefield called 'Vinsch,' and eventually the Germans started to call it Binsch for some reason. Many Italians have the last name 'Vinsch,' considering the battle was considered a huge success on their part. However, it seems that my family is the only one left with the German slang of that minor scrap of history as our namesake. Convenient, really, but again not too descriptive. All I know much about is my middle name, Rudolf. This came from my grandfather Rudy, who died when I was almost two years old. He had fought in world war II alongside the nazis, but was in a small, secret organization against Hitler and his followers. It must have been a troubling time for him, disobeying the nazi commander while forced to fight in his army, but he powered through it all and lived to tell the tale. As a pilot, he had taken in several bombs to deploy, but he never actually used one; they were taken into the tiny, nameless organization and kept safely until the end of the war. Rudolf died of a heart attack when he was seventy-two years old, after dealing with lung cancer and several other ailments for twenty years. And I'm proud to know that my middle name comes from an honorable man like himself. History is what's in a name, and those tales (no matter how vague) should be kept close to one's heart for as long as the live.

3o'clock (CNF-Dialogue)

It was about three o'clock in the morning, and the boy was still awake, playing video games on his laptop. He saw that one of his friends had joined his teamspeak line, so he turned on his headset and greeted him.
"Hey dude, why you up so late?" He himself had only just realized the time, and rubbed his eyes wearily.
"Dunno, guess I'm just like you that way."
The boy raised and eyebrow and scratched his head, knocking a finger against his mic then regaining composure. "Watcha mean?" He yawned sleepily as he waited for a reply.
"I don't sleep when I'm thinkin' either." A muffled cough sounded through the microphone, and the boy stared at his screen in silence.
"Well, watcha thinkin' about?" The boy bit his lip and forced his eyes open to stay awake. He rubbed one eye and yawned silently once more.
"Just uh, I've been kinda... I broke up with my girlfriend."
For a while there was silence, and the boy noticed another cough and a sniff. He shook himself to stay awake.
"Oh... well uh, hang in there man. I mean, what happened, anyway?" The boy listened hard for a response, and heard muffled cursing in the background. A can was crushed, and another was opened not five seconds later.
"Screwed up...I don't really want to talk about it." Three gulps, then another can in the trash.
The boy just stared at his keyboard a while in thought, panicking about what he should do. "Alright... so uh, you wanna play Minecraft?" A hopeful smile dashed across the boy's face, wondering how his friend would react.
"Nah, not really..." Nothing but static came in for a few moments, then another cough.
The boy rubbed his hand against his face and sighed. "Alright, what about..."
A click and a pause informed the boy that his friend had left. He closed his laptop slowly and slid it to the floor, along with his headset. He stared at the mic a while, just thinking. Then he drifted off to sleep.

Recollection (CNF-Nostalgia)

Everyone has memories, whether they are good, bad, or pointless. When it comes to me, only bad memories seem to surface. Every one of the fond memories just seems to drip away, making more and more room for new good times. Instead, I warn myself about repeating the past; crushing my leg under a fallen bookshelf, soaking my blood-stained broken bone in the tub as I waited for the emergency room trip to commence. I remind myself to step away from the creaking trunk of the tree my friends pushed around as I watched wide-eyed, seeing it fall towards me like a tripped giant. I tell myself to call the police when my neighbors get robbed, not to run away like a coward. Those are only a few examples of the things I remember; the iron smell of blood in water as tears stung my eyes, trying to escape while my throat was still closed in pain. I think back to the ear-shattering crack of wood as leaves spilled onto the ground around me, signaling the blackness of unconsciousness. I regret the cowardly decision of running as I heard frantic gunshots and furious yelling next door, my trembling legs barely keeping me standing as a solitary car honked past me. But along with those memories come some of my best. The feeling of pride when I held back my tears in the hospital, ringing pain in my ears from the bone that stood out of my skin like a bleeding baton. The thought that my friends dragged me out from under the tree and waited in terror for me to wake up, not even thinking to get an adult. And most of all, the night air brushing softly against my skin as I hid and prayed desperately for our neighbor’s safety, soon hearing the triumphant shouts of an old man and his shotgun, tires shrieking against the road as more cowards fled. With every bad memory comes a good one, for me at least. And that’s why I cherish even the worst.

CNF- Growing is Forever

When people tell you to reach for the stars, they think they know how to do that. As if they've done it before. But has anyone truly touched the stars? I like to believe so, but usually most people tend to stretch themselves out too far, and in the process of shooting for the heavens, they forget their original motives. There's really no room for improvement in a world where everyone sits on the ground, though, and when the others collapse in front of them is discourages them from standing. So we just sit here, watching everyone reach for the stars and eventually trip... But my money will always be on those people grabbing the stars and rubbing them in our faces.

Hey, Kid!

Hey kid. Yes, you. Listen to me for a minute. You don’t understand how life works yet, do you? Of course not, you’re you. So let me clue you in a bit; nothing is free. Everything requires hard work. Baffled yet? Probably not, so let me elaborate. Whenever you do something it affects your life. Whenever you don’t do something, it affects it more. You’ll fail over and over no matter what, but if you don’t try at all you’ll just suck too much. So get working. The more you slack off the worse you’ll be when you actually put in effort; the fun isn’t worth it. You’re wasting too much time and you’ve got to stop it or you’ll be extremely frustrated with everything you attempt in the future. And believe me, I know a lot about the future… we’ve got iPhones.
    So get to work. Write more, draw more, and save all the money you get. I don’t care if you want a Gameboy, you won’t care later. If you don’t start caring about the future, you’ll never get the present right. And for god’s sake, start working out. It doesn’t matter if you’re lazy, it’ll make you less lazy in the future. Scared yet? I would be. Or I am… or was…wait, what?

Eyes Wide Open

Life is always so fragile. The insects in the world die faster than we even step on them, and animals in the wild often struggle to survive. But every day, every minute, we humans become stronger. We live on, unlike everything else, and we manage to do something with our lives as well. We attempt to make the world a better place, making the old turn into the new. Even if our species begins to die, our monuments will keep us alive forever, and no doubt will we rise again.

But why us? What did the other forms of life do to live their meager, helpless lives? Not to say animals are no use in the world, but why aren't they civilized as well? Some religions say that they were once bad people, who now cannot partake in civil actions alongside humans, but didn't we evolve from them? This is why humans can accomplish anything if they put their minds to it; we aren't animals anymore. Millions of yeas ago, we deserved nothing. But we fought for what we needed, and we still can today. Whether you're fighting in a war or writing a novel, you're human. Whether you're in the olympics or programming a video game, you're human.
And that's all you need.