sadnesslaughs

[sadnesslaughs]

“I will give you the power you seek,” the Fae lady said, “But in exchange, I will take your firstborn child.” “Alright, so when do you want to meet my parents?” “Wait, what?” “When do you want to get married?” “Hold on, now....”

(A response to a writing prompt)

Even the bemused look on the fae’s face couldn’t diminish her beauty. The often-controlling creature of the forest was now on the back foot, holding her hips as she leaned forward, tilting a pointed ear towards the human before her. “Say that again, human.” The words demanding a response, her body edging closer for every second she didn’t receive one.

Keela leaned on his wooden walking stick, getting as close to her as possible without falling over himself. Only a pebble separated his lips from her ear, with neither taking that last step to connect the parts. “I said. When do you want to get married?”

The fae paused, assessing the words, her mythical mind of wonders having trouble grasping the human concept of marriage. She assured herself that she knew everything. Faes were all powerful tricksters and yet she was still having trouble figuring out why he had brought up marriage, of all things. “Marriage? I requested your first born, fool. What has that got to do with marriage?”

“How does one make a firstborn?”

“You don’t know, sheep boy?” She said, a glint of superiority in her eyes.

“I know. I was just making sure you knew.”

“Of course I know!”

“Ok, so when are we getting married?”

And they were back to where they started. The fae’s ear twitching, still trying to make the connection between marriage and the firstborn. How did this make sense at all? What did marriage have to do with it? She didn’t wish to continue this circle of questions, so she demanded a proper explanation. “Explain how this relates to anything.”

Keela’s sigh was the only noise in the forest. Not even the river dared to distract the irritated fae. With his walking stick, he started sketching in the dirt, making small rings in the soil. “So, we get married. Following along so far?”

“Yes, yes. I understand that part. Now, how does this relate to marriage?” He continued, drawing something that made the fae blush. The fae quickly dragged her foot through the soil, removing the sketch. “WHY WOULD YOU DRAW SUCH A THING?”

“That’s what happens after marriage. Then we have a child together and you get your wish of having my firstborn.”

The fae grabbed her chin, staring off at a distant tree before the connection became clear. “Ah, human customs. That’s right, your kind often go to such lengths for something as simple as procreation. Silly, really. Do you believe your deities care if you wear a ring or not? Does it make you less sinful?”

Keela watched the blue face of the fae light up, confidence booming now that she knew where his mind had been. He made a dash to knock that confidence back down, not wanting that blue head to burst. “You’re acting awfully mighty for someone that didn’t know what I meant earlier. Aren’t you meant to be all knowing and all powerful?”

“So, you agree to my terms?” She quickly said, gritting her teeth as the words came out.

“I”

“You agree to give me your first-born child.” She rushed in.

“I agree only to give it to you if we marry. Wait, no.”

The fae smirked, brushing aside her silver locks. “Too late, a deal is struck.” All he had to say was, I agree. Anything that came after that was void in the eyes of a fae’s contract. The fae’s quick words were enough to cause a slip up. “How’s that for all knowing and all powerful?”

The man gulped, staring at his walking stick, coming to terms with the deal he had made. He got his power, but at a significant cost. He couldn’t risk not having any children. His farm would die out with no one to pass the land onto. Yet, the thought of sacrificing his first born to keep the farm alive made him sick. Adoption was an alternative, but one that would be frowned upon by his family. He had to keep playing the fae’s game if he wanted to get through this.

“I won’t have any children then.”

“You won’t have any children? That’s what they all say and eventually they forget all about us until we come knocking on your door one night.” She tapped Keela’s shoulder, only to grimace at the mess on his robes, shaking her hand after the contact.

“Fae’s can only have one contract at a time, right? Enjoy waiting until I die.”

The fae’s confidence flickered for a second, the two meeting gazes as they waited for the other to look away. Eventually, when the stand off became overbearing, they both glanced away, equally frustrated by the person across from them. “I have all the time in the world.” She vanished from Keela’s view, disappearing behind a tree. She bounced from tree to tree until she was out of sight, leaving him standing alone.

The forest sounds returned with her disappearance, as if the land was now free to move without the overbearing magical presence of the fae. As he walked back to the farm, Keela constantly glanced over his shoulder, feeling invisible gazes from the treeline. No matter where he was, it always felt like something was watching. When the trees dispersed near his farm, he felt free, if only momentarily. That lurking gaze leaving him as he passed by the animals, each trudging over to the fence either for the potential food or for a pat.

He didn’t have the energy to indulge their pats, only waving his hand in response, summoning bundles of food for the animals to eat before entering his cottage. Somehow the small cottage felt even more suffocating today, those thin walls tightly wrapping around his rocking chair, making him close in on himself, tucking his knees towards his chest.

He hadn’t expected to feel fear. That confidence he had built getting chipped away by the fae until he cracked. She had ultimately won their battle, but a battle didn’t decide the fate of a person. No, this was merely a setback. Even as he repeated that to himself, he couldn’t stop shaking, wondering if the powers were worth such a gamble?

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

You’ve slain the beast, but instead of payment the villagers kick you out Enraged, you do what no other mage has done: Resurrect a dragon.

(A response to a writing prompt)

Asimos towered over the village below, standing atop the resurrected dragon that he had recently driven an icy spear through. The dragon’s skeletal body cracking as it idly rocked on the spot, chipped bones still visible around the ribcage where it had been pierced. “It’s a simple rule of nature, really. A person does a service, and they get paid for that service. Since gold won’t leave your greedy hands, I’ll collect your lives as payment instead.”

The villagers did not hear the mage’s words. They were still asleep, curled up in their beds, comforted by the fact that the roaring beast had been slain. If they knew it lurked just outside their village fence line, the villagers’ screams would have been loud enough to wake the neighboring city.

The mage’s staff bounced off the dragon’s head, forcing it to bow, letting him off its back. With a rushed pace, he walked past the sleepy homes, peering through the windows like a monster ready to steal away its latest prey. Sometimes a person would catch sight of him and give an uneasy look, whispering to their family. To those that gave him those uneasy looks, he waved, as if he forgave them for their wrongs. Some waved back, while others only gave a tentative nod.

He had to see them one last time, wanting to remember the faces of those that would soon become an unrecognisable collection of bones and meat. Asimos had big plans for these villagers, prepared to get his money back and then some. No one would ever rob him again, not a bunch of lowly peasants and certainly not the magic guilds that would forbid him from taking any actions against them. For the first time in his forty years, he was free. A free mage with the world at his fingertips.

As he rounded the last home, he stretched his arms out, letting his fingertips tickle the cheap brickwork. “It feels good.” He gave a low whisper, shivering at how seductive that single phrase felt to him. When had he ever felt this free? With the last building behind him, he pushed past the creaking wooden fence on the other side of the village, ready to leave.

“Where ya going?” The villager leader hissed. The mage spun, excited to greet the man who had told him his heroic act was enough of a reward. “We seen ya creeping.”

Asimos’ blue eyes flashed a light white, sending a small mental scan over the village, sensing a group of men hiding behind the building to his left, no doubt with pitchforks at the ready. He gave half a smile, only able to find such a pitiful attempt at an ambush somewhat amusing. “Observing the village where I slayed the mighty beast. Do you need something serf?”

That got the man’s chest puffing. The village leader considering himself above the status of serf, marching forward, only for his chest to sink back down, finding the mage unflinching. Soon the leader was stepping back, faltering as the mage merely waited, losing that half smile.

“Not going to come any closer? Please, if you wish to converse, come closer so we may be face to face. Or, if you aren’t feeling confident enough to do so, get one of your friends to hold your hand.”

The villager leader gasped, stammering for a response. He tried to force a word out, only for the hand of the mage to shoot up. “No need for words. I’m leaving. In an hour, we will all have left this place.”

As his hand lowered, the sound of grunted shouts rang out, men charging from their hiding spot, only to scream as the dragon stormed them from behind. While it was missing its fiery breath, the enormous body of the dragon couldn’t be underestimated, blocking out the starry sky as it rammed through the panicked group.

The mage didn’t look back, not even when he heard the bricks being crunched beneath boned feet. Instead, he smiled, giving a clap as his staff vanished, allowing him to stuff his hands into his pockets. While he could teleport away at any moment, he wanted to enjoy the sound a little longer, wondering if their gold was still as valuable as it had been when he asked for his reward.

When the sounds died down, leaving only the feint sobbing of what remained, he dismissed the dragon, ordering it to return to a pile of bones. Those bones falling in the center of the village, burying the deceased village leader beneath them. “I will surely be a suspect if any mage investigates the matter.” He murmured to himself, licking his bottom lip as the thought crossed his mind. “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Either I outfox them with my wit, or I keep pursuing the freedom of magic while on the run. No restrictions, no laws against dark spells. Instead, total freedom.”

Making a circle in the dirt with his shoe, he drew a teleportation circle. The circle flashing blue as it connected. Not even looking back at the destruction he caused, he returned to his manor, eager to find out more about this new world of magic that had opened to him.

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

Everyone had a robot companion. You, a poor engineer, didn’t have the funds to buy one. You found parts from the local dump to put one together. A core, the brain, was the last thing you needed. One day, you found a damaged core at the dump. Upon rebuilding it, you could now see your creation come to life.

(A response to a writing prompt)

“Broken beyond repair, huh? Well, what do you say, little core, want to make a robotic miracle happen?” The core sat comfortably in Robert’s metallic palm, being nestled by the cheap wire he used to operate his fingers. The spherical core had a red sticker latched onto its plate, indicating that it was too damaged to be sent to a repairs department, which is why it ended up among the scrap.

While Robert knew his chances of repairing the core were slim, he wasn’t about to throw away the only core he had found in his years of searching. Stuffing it into his pocket, he continued to rummage through the scraps, thankful that his sense of smell had faded or else the stench would probably be sending his mind loopy.

No matter how much sludge, discarded bottles, and plastic bags he searched through, he couldn’t find anything else worth taking. “Guess I was pushing my luck trying to find a better chest plate. A bloody core of all things. Finally, I can put my pal together.” He was optimistic, even if he knew the chances of the repair being successful were near impossible.

Returning home, he unconsciously slapped his gloves against his pants, feeling the wet sludge coat his legs, leaving them soaked in this bile of the dump. “Fuck.” He screamed, wiping the mess. No matter how much he wiped, it only spread the mess more, eventually giving up as he removed his gloves. “First impressions aren’t that important. Doubt they’re going to care if I’m a little dirty. Right?”

Robert stopped by the mirror to his workshop, looking at his uneven, fluffy beard. The hairs refusing to grow at the same pace, leaving almost a wave of displaced beard hairs. “Yikes, going to have to throw a blanket over that mirror soon. Or at least get rid of the monster that keeps pretending to be my reflection.” He joked, even if his laugh had an undertone of bitterness.

The workshop was simple. Workbench, shelves filled with enough scrap to build an army of incomplete robots, and a box of mismatched tools that were all found in the dump. The only thing that kept the workshop from looking like a dump was the thin robotic companion sitting atop his bench.

He had named the robot Edi, after a character from a long forgotten sci-fi game that he had found during his many dives into the dump. These old games being his only source of entertainment on the outskirts of the city. That and tinkering with himself or the small electronics he collected.

Edi lacked a lot of polish, raw as a robot could be. The chest of the robot missing a proper plate, instead Robert used a steel fence panel to keep it shut. The face was, in Robert’s own words, unsettling. It was an old B1 model face, one that was created to be as realistic as possible. So, it had eyelashes, a feminine face, and eyes that could pierce through a person’s soul. They didn’t keep these old faces in circulation for long and quickly changed them for the B2 and newer models.

Robert worked on the core, repairing damaged components and providing cheap replacement parts for the broken board. He assumed this robot had been subjected to water damage, which was odd. Most of them were waterproof, both inside and out, so something horrible must have happened for water to get this deep into the robot. When he had done all he could do to fix the core, he went over to Edi.

“Please don’t open your eyes, please don’t open your eyes.” Robert winced, sneaking closer to the robot, opening the chest. Robert knew it couldn’t activate without a core, but still had an unrealistic fear of the thing’s eyes slowly opening as it strangled the life out of him. He assumed this fear developed after falling asleep in the workshop one night, only to wake to the robot’s face staring right at him. He knew that the robot had most likely fallen over during the night, but a part of him wondered if it somehow crawled across the table to where he fell asleep.

He shivered as he set the core in, giving his body a small shake to get the rest of the goosebumps out. “Core in. Nice.” All that was left was to give it power. He reached onto the top shelf, grabbing a small generator. It was a nifty little thing, lightweight and oddly powerful. While he did have electricity in his hideaway home, a generator made it easier to perform repairs in the workshop without having cables running all over the place.

“Alright, generator connected and….Nah, I need a beer before this. Hold on a moment, DON’T MOVE.” He pointed at the robot, voice raising a few octaves when he did. The robot gave him a blank stare, and he nodded. “Good.”

He tapped the edge of his fridge, noticing something dreadful. “No, shit, no. OH COME ON. YOU IDIOT!” He kicked the fridge, hearing the cans wobble about from the impact. “Why did the power cut off? The only thing worse than a warm beer is no beer. Ahhhh, this is the worst best day I’ve had.” He grabbed the warm beer can, giving the fridge a dirty look as he turned it back on. “I’m disappointed in you….”

Cracking open the can, the sprays of the shaken beverage blasted him, feeling it smack under his chin. “……” He didn’t even have the energy to yell at the can, gulping down half of it before wincing, poking his tongue out.

Now, with a drink in hand, he started the generator, anxiously watching the power flow through the robot. Each pulse of electricity rocking its body, trying to kick-start it. Robert could do little more than pray it would work, trying to find life in his creation.

“Come on…. Please.” Robert mumbled, giving the generator a small nudge with his foot. No matter how much power flowed into the core, the robot remained unresponsive. Sure, its arms sometimes shook, or its leg kicked, but those were troubleshooting actions that operated as soon as the robot got power. It had done nothing to indicate there was anything left in that core.

By the time Robert finished his beer, he was slouched against the wall, shaking his head. “Knew it was a dud. No one throws out a perfectly good core. Bastards. Come on, after this miserable day, I deserve something.” He tossed the can towards the robot, only for its eyes to flick open, catching the can in its palm.

“I am charging. This is an automated message. I am charging. This is an automated message. Reaction test is only to be performed during troubleshoot 204. I repeat Troubleshoot 204. Testing reactions of a charging robot may result in lost data, damaged parts, or crushed human limbs. For your safety and mine, please allow the charge cycle to finish.”

Robert had been cowering during the message, expecting to get the robot equivalent of a beating. Which was probably similar to a human beating, just with no moral restraint. When the robot returned to its default pose, Robert breathed again. “Ok…. I’m sorry.”

For the next hour, Robert remained huddled behind a fort of boxes, holding a broken broom handle for a weapon, preparing for the worst. When the robot pulled the generator cable off its chest, he steadied the handle.

Edi’s eyes opened, scanning the room, before displaying a look of disgust. “Mess. Will add this to cleaning list A. High priority.” Then she landed on Robert, who stabbed the air in front of him. “Scanning. Mess detected. High priority A will be downgraded to B. This will become subject A.” She stepped closer to Robert, only to pause. “Mess is human?”

“Yeah, I’m human. Isn’t that obvious?”

“You’re body is currently 64% covered in grime and dirt. My database only attributes such levels of mess to a room, or perhaps a garbage can. You’re dirtier than human standards.” Edi’s light voice said, making it even more insulting.

“Yeah, well… Human standards are too high. I’m Robert, the guy that put you back together. Do you have a home or something?”

“Home? Home directory not found. Would you like to register this…” Edi couldn’t call this place a home, her records wouldn’t allow it. “Would you like to register this farmland as my home directory? I will add you to my current owner's database.”

“Sure, add me. Weird, I thought you would still have your old records. Guess you got banged up pretty badly. Not that I can talk.” Robert pushed aside the boxes, waving his robot arm at her, an action which caught the interest of Edi.

“You’re part robot? Requesting permission to examine your core.” She asked, stepping towards him, reaching for his chest.

“No! Access not granted. I’m human. I only have this arm because I lost my human one in an accident. You’ve never seen a prosthetic?”

“No. Imperfections are frowned upon. Are you what my systems define as a social outcast?”

“I? Maybe? Look, all that matters is we’re friends now, ok? I repaired you and I’m your owner.” Robert hated how harsh that sounded, but he felt the need to establish some level of superiority. Not wanting Edi to run off and deem him not worthy of her time.

She thought about it before her eyes flashed blue, accepting him into her records. “I understand. Social outcast status has been overlooked as you’re my owner. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Robert. Now, shall I clean you?”

“I can clean myself!”

“Then what shall I do?”

“You don’t really need to do anything specific. I only want a friend. Can you hang out with me and drink beers?”

Edi processed that request, finding it odd that she didn’t have a specific prompt for ‘Hang out and drink beers.’ “I don’t specifically understand what you’re asking, but I can be your friend. I will also do my best to learn to drink beers and hang out. Is that acceptable?”

Robert grabbed a warm beer, not even caring that the can still hadn’t gotten cold yet. He set himself down on a box, motioning her to sit beside him. “You can’t drink, at least not until I fix your panel. Still, let’s sit and talk.”

“Sure.” Edi sat before asking something. “Why is this what you want me to do? I can do so much more.”

He sighed, looking at the can. “I guess it reminds me of the old times when I used to have friends. We would finish our shift at the factory, and all sit around a big fire in the yard, drinking until our manager moved us along. Shit work and hard times, but I still kind of miss it.”

“I see. Then let us drink.” Edi said, grabbing the empty can she had caught earlier, mimicking the action of drinking. Keeping Robert company as he told her about his shitty day.

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

“Look, we didn’t say we never noticed that the mimic replaced you. How could we not? It’s just... It’s a far more pleasant individual than you are.”

(A response to a writing prompt)

It was an awkward reunion for the adventuring party, with a soaking wet Valis stomping his way towards the group’s table. “YOU!” Valis said, smacking his wooden staff against the table. Each adventurer pointed to themselves, except the mimic who pointed to Valis, not understanding what the group was doing. “You all have some nerve drinking in my home village after abandoning me. I had to wade through three rivers just to get back here.”

“Oh, Valis. So nice to see you. Oh, wait. If you're Valis, then who’s this guy?” Markus played stupid, the veteran of the group pretending to examine the mimic more closely, acting as if he was now only discovering that something was wrong. In the eyes of Valis, Markus didn’t need any help looking stupid, especially since he always led them astray whenever it was his turn to read a map.

“Really? You’re going to act like you didn’t know? He’s see through! When have I ever been see through?” The mimic indeed was see through, a baked ham still bouncing around his bubbly stomach that mimicked flesh. It was peculiar to watch, seeing bits of meat slowly getting dissolved in the acidic insides as the ham continued to bounce.

Abetha, their healer, let out a small sigh. In her experience, it was always best to rip the bandage off quickly, as opposed to a slow peel. So, she ripped this one off as cleanly as she could. “Look. We never technically said we didn’t notice it wasn’t you. How could we not? It’s just… How do I say this? Valissa is far more pleasant than you are.” Abetha winced as the truth came out, hoping she hadn’t opened any wounds with that quick tug.

“PLEASANT? I…” Valis struggled, his anger and broken heart fighting for dominance, both trying to force their way out. Instead of one winning, they both lashed out together. “I DID MY BEST. It was never easy being with you all. I wanted everyone to live, that’s all.” That loud flare to his voice cracked towards the end, turning into a sob. “I… was only harsh because I was scared of losing you.”

“Valis…” Abetha stared down at her glass, hoping to find some advice on what to say within its red mist of alcohol.

“Harsh? You ruined all our fun. Don’t eat that, don’t fight this. We’re adventurers. Our job is dangerous. How are we meant to get any fame if you keep treating us like idiots? That’s the thing that stung the most. You thought we were all stupid.” Lio snapped, glaring at his old adventuring buddy. The battle-hardened swordsmen, sick of being pulled out of danger by Valis’s protective charms.

“He has a point. We’re all strong in our own right. Yet, every time we did something, you felt the need to question our decisions.” Markus scooted backwards in his chair, standing up. “I appreciate you helping us, but now it’s time to formally remove you from our party. I hoped we could spare your feelings by pretending we got separated.” He offered his gloved hand to Valis. “Good luck.”

Valis shook as he grabbed the hand, unable to move when Markus clasped it. Markus did all the work, shaking their hands before prying his hand free from the shake. “There, a formal goodbye.” Markus returned to his seat, not looking at the messy face of his former party member.

“I… see. If I changed, would you allow me to-“

“No.” Lio pointed to the door. “Go join another party. Find someone that needs a whiny mage.”

“Lio!” Abetha hissed, elbowing his shoulder. “Do you need to be that rude? I’m sorry, Valis. It’s better if we part ways. For both of us. I doubt your feelings towards us will be positive after everything we’ve said today. This can be a fresh start for you, and for us.”

Valis nodded, holding his own hand for comfort. “Thank you… for our time together.” He bowed, trying to keep some dignity. As he turned to leave, a hand caught his robe, the mimic tugging on his robe, curiously looking at the person it had taken the form of. “What do you want?” Valis glared through teary eyes.

“Friend.” The mimic left the table, locking its arm around Valis’s, sticking close to his side. “Me, you. You, me. We be we,” it said, giving a wobbly grin. Its skin jiggled with excitement now that it had found its match, not showing any interest in the party anymore.

“HEY! WE STILL NEED YOU.” Lio said, trying to grab the mimic. As he grabbed the creature’s arm, it fell off, vibrating on the floor of the tavern. Instantly it grew back, returning to the mimics side.

“Don’t like. Like me.” It said, pressing its cheek against Valis, rubbing against him. “We travel. Want to learn from me. You bore. Dumb bore. Bore bore bore-“ It kept repeating bore until Valis shushed it.

“You little-“ Lio was held in place by his other party members, unable to grab his weapon.

Markus wasn’t pleased with the decision, but didn’t feel they had a say in the matter. It would hurt not having someone of his skills, but they couldn’t force the mimic to work with them. “Let it go,” Markus said.

“Good luck, Valis.” Abetha gave a small sincere smile, hoping this might repair some of the damage they had done. While she hadn’t liked Valis, she didn’t hate the man. A part of her even believed they could have gotten along if someone had spoken up about their feelings earlier. Still, even she couldn’t heal a wound like this. “You too, Valissa”

“Yes, Valissa too.” The mimic waved before directing Valis outside. The mage didn’t have an option but to follow, having to move with the oddly powerful pulls of the mimic. When they were outside, the mimic stopped, examining Valis. “Valis hard to copy. Make Valissa scream. Valissa learn from Valis in return for help. That deal. Deal?” Valissa shook his hand, not giving Valis a chance to react. “Deal. Let’s find cave and do a camp.”

The two walked in silence through the night, finding a camp to call home for the night. Starting their newest journey together.

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

You are a knight, trained from birth to listen and work for whoever is able to best you. A year ago you were captured by a humanoid dragon woman you were tasked to slay but failed. Today she asks “Are you going to try to escape or what?”

(A respnse to a writing prompt)

“Escape? Who would protect you if I escaped?” Alexander said, the knight seated with his back against the wall of his cell, not using the bed or chair that the dragon had offered him. The chains that once bound him to the wall had been removed months ago, and still he remained seated in that position. Only getting up to eat or train his body. Erix didn’t even bother locking the door to his cell anymore, hoping the knight would eventually leave on his own.

“Protect me?” She gave a haughty laugh, hot breath escaping from her black lips. “Need I remind you who lost the last battle we had? A gallant human effort is not enough to best someone whose lived over a thousand years.” She set herself down on his bed, brushing the edges of her flowing purple dress as she did. The horned, red skinned humanoid staring down the human with her piercing yellow eyes.

“I’m aware I lost. Which is why I must offer my loyalty to you. How else can I repay your kindness for allowing me to live? You bested me, and so I will serve you, my queen.” The knight placed a hand over his heart, still wearing that torn up chestplate from their previous fight. The blue armor scarred by dragon claws and bite marks.

“Kindness? You thought this was kindness? I hoped to lure the rest of your knights into my manor by using you as bait. This was not an act of mercy.” Erix smirked at the word queen, enjoying the power it had behind it. Those wings of hers pushing out from behind her back, giving a small flutter at the thought. ‘Queen’ She could get used to that.

“You say that, and yet you haven’t killed me. Even though I serve no purpose to you anymore.”

“Oh, shall I kill you then?” She leant forward, digging her palm into his chestplate. The metal creaked under the strength of her palm. Nevertheless, the knight refused to move, staring his queen in the eyes.

“My life is yours. Do what you see fit.” Alexander didn’t wish to die, but a knight’s loyalty overruled even their primal instincts for survival. He had the knightly code beaten into him, and nothing would ever remove that from his mind.

“In all my thousand years, I’ve never met a human so peculiar. Killing you would be a waste.” She removed her hand and stood, motioning him to his feet. “Follow, dear knight.”

Alexander rose, following behind her. “A thousand years?” That number still didn’t make sense to him. She hardly looked a day over forty, let alone a thousand. He had been told by an old trainer that people enjoyed compliments, so he tried one. “You don’t look a day over two hundred.”

The dragon paused, raising an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“You don’t… look a day over two hundred?” Alexander’s confidence fell apart when she turned to face him. She didn’t look insulted or even annoyed, more confused as her neck tilted to the side. As if she was trying to view him from a new angle, to get a better understanding.

“I don’t look a day over two hundred?” She repeated, neck returning to its upright position. She walked again, clicking her tongue as they walked the manor halls, leaving the dark depths of the dungeon. They passed through a hallway full of old paintings, each done by an artist she had kidnapped out of boredom. She stopped on one, pointing to it. “I believe I was two hundred in that painting. You say I look no different now?”

The painting was of a woman who looked to be in her early twenties. She had a ball gown on, that gave her a sense of regality that was only diminished by the wild black hairs that were untamed on her head. The painting showed signs of rushed work. Smudges, stains, and paint droplets scattering what would have been a fine artwork.

Alexander took the painting in before looking at Erix. She didn’t look the same as her two-hundred-year-old self. He could see that now. He had to wonder what his trainer was thinking when he gave the advice about compliments. What person would appreciate a compliment so insincere? “No, you do. You look a lot more mature and powerful now. Like a queen.” Again, he used that word, deciding to give a genuine compliment instead of the cheap ones his trainer offered.

“Hm…” Erix stared at the knight, trying to read him. Here he was, a disheveled and disgraced knight, in her opinion. One that should have been emotionally broken after his defeat, and still he had an air of chivalry about him. Those blonde hair were a mess and his cheeks had sunken from a year of eating her scraps, and still he could walk with a stride of pride. “Thank you.” Was all she offered back, continuing the tour of the manor.

They went through the gardens first, which were a mess of plants and trees. Erix never had a green thumb, so every fifty years, she would steal away a farmer or two and get them to maintain the garden. She was nearing that fifty-year mark now, having to kick away a few snakes as she pushed through the overgrown grass, entering the main hall.

“If you wish to serve me, I won’t reject your offer, knight. Just know that I will expect utter loyalty from you. If I ask you to fight your kingdom, I expect you to do it.”

“I will always seek the peaceful option first, my queen. I’ll only raise a blade to my own if they prove to be unreasonable.” Alexander said, realizing he didn’t even have a sword to raise. The once shining sword he carried now sat atop Erix’s horde of treasures, lost among all her other belongings.

“Is that so? That doesn’t sound like utter loyalty to me.” She snarled, stopping by the couch, dropping onto it.

“I am loyal, my queen. I only ask that you allow me to try a peaceful approach before you ask me to stain my hands. A knight prides themselves on chivalry, and there is no dignity in killing for unjustified reasons. If peaceful negotiations fail, and the other side shows hostility, I will defend you until I fall.”

While that still didn’t sound like undying loyalty to Erix, she didn’t have the energy to argue with the human. “Fine. As long as I come first, I can overlook your lack of bloodlust. Now, since I have no wars for you to fight, I expect you to work around the manor. Why don’t you clean up my garden? If you do that, maybe I’ll give your sword back.”

“My sword? You would return it? Bless your grace, my queen.”

“Yes, yes. Bless me. Now get to work.”

Alexander bowed before walking to the gardens. The living room he walked through looking far neater than the garden, with most of the furniture being new. Her constant horde of treasures making it easy to decorate. The only thing that looked slightly worn was the couch she sat on, which had a few claw marks on it. Once he left, Erix stretched out, letting out a yawn.

“What an odd knight. Still, maybe being a queen isn’t such a bad thing?”

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

Every time you die, you receive points based on your actions while living that you can spend on your next life or save. Your past lives have been saving points for a very long time.

(A response to a writing prompt)

God didn’t expect a knock at his door this evening, especially since a meeting with God costed a mortal one hundred thousand life points. He stroked his wiry beard hairs, grooming the white beard before letting the stranger in. Even if he was God, those omnipotent powers of his didn’t fully extend into the realm of heaven. Sure, he could see and control everything on Earth, but Heaven had its own rules, allowing the angels and citizens a sense of privacy. After all, nothing bad can ever happen in heaven, so God doesn’t need to have eyes everywhere.

He expected to be greeted by an angel. Perhaps a new angel that hadn’t fully learned how to book a meeting with God through their calendar system. Instead, he was greeted by a human, one with greasy black hair and a slack posture. The man looking perpetually tired, still carrying the weight of his Earthly struggles on his shoulders. A weight that would soon be lifted by the comforts of heaven.

“Ah, my child. How nice of you to visit! You must be a devoted believer to use that many life points on me. It’s rare to find anyone that’s saved up that many points. Most use them as soon as they become available.”

“Guess I’m smarter than most.” Alex scanned the room, surprised to find that God’s office looked like a mix of a typical business conference room and a dentist’s office. The pristine wooden table surrounded by a sterile white wall, with only a single window that let in the blinding white angelic light of the clouds outside. “I’m not even really a believer. Well, I believe you exist, would be weird if I didn’t. I mean, in the sense that I don’t believe in the rules you set for humanity.”

God watched Alex groan as he settled into the office chair, body cracking as it pushed against the stiff back of the office chair. After letting the man get comfortable, God spoke. “I’m sorry you don’t agree with my rules. If you wish to propose any changes, you can always ask an angel. They will happily put forward any proposed changes to me. Or, you can tell me about them now. I’m not a tyrant. I will listen to constructive criticism.”

The man smirked. “Yes, because we’ve seen so many changes over the last thousand years.” Alex teased, hanging an arm over the chair’s back. “Don’t be sorry about it. I’ll do a much better job when I’m a God.”

“When you’re a God? How do you intend to do that?”

“With my points. If a person cashes in ten million points, you will make them a god. That’s what it says on the rewards system you implemented. I wish to cash in my ten million points.” Alex saw God freeze, thinking over what the human before him was saying. Quickly, he pulled out a book from a drawer in his desk. The book fluttered open as soon as it hit the desk, landing on Alex’s name.

“Over eleven million points… How did you save that many? It’s not possible to do such a thing. Humans are greedy by nature. How did you resist the other temptations? You could have been a king, politician, or a celebrity. Why do you want to be a god? Surely one of your other lives would have given into temptation.” He slammed the book shut, scowling at him.

“You would think so, but no. I can’t speak for my past lives, but I assume they all shared the same thought process that I did. When they died and saw that massive number, they realized how meaningless the other prizes were. Why settle for the obvious prizes, when you can become a god? What’s another hundred lives in the grand scheme of things? So, ready to make me a god?” Alex rocked back on his chair, only growing in confidence as the God looked more bewildered.

“It’s not an actual prize that people are meant to take. It’s a novelty, something that’s so outlandish that people think it’s unachievable. No one else has ever done this. No mortal can consistently resist the temptations. One of your past lives was meant to give in and waste the points.”

“Guess I’m built different. Which is why I’ll make an excellent god.” The man stood up, walking beside God, leaning over the back of his chair. “We both know you can’t go back on your word, especially since these rewards were written in stone,” the man said, emphasizing the advantage he had in this situation.

“I hope you understand how hard it is to be a god. Directing mortal lives isn’t for the feint of heart. You will see horrors that you can’t imagine. You will have knowledge that will make you wish you couldn’t think. That is the curse of the divine.” God stated, tilting his head up to look at Alex, giving him a look of pity.

Alex pretended to mull over the words before rubbing the bald spot on God’s head. “Can’t be any worse than the curse of mortality. Before you make me a god, there is one last thing I want to cash in.”

“And what’s that?”

“One million points, cut god’s beard.” Alex slid a pair of scissors from his pocket, pulling God’s face forward with a harsh tug. “I’ll be quick.” Dragging the scissors through the beard, he left droplets of white hair all over the table, coating it in the fluff. “You’ve been beaten. I’ll make a world better than you ever could. You’ll become nothing.” After cutting the last hair, he sat himself on the edge of the table. “Now, my ten million points to become a god.”

God stared at the loose hairs, collecting a few of them in his palm. “You wish to become a god? Than a god you shall become.” He said, clenching his fist.

Alex felt a scorching pain through his body. His skin melting down, leaving only muscle. Even with the pain, he couldn’t scream, only falling forward onto his face. The skin quickly repairing itself, getting a red tint to its color. Finally, he could scream, holding his head as horns pushed through his skull.

“A god of the underworld suits you nicely. You can rule those who think they are above my rules and order. No god will ever be above me, for that is a sin.”

Alex pushed through the pain, staring up at the elderly man with a defiant grin. “I’ll be back for you. One day, you’ll regret not granting me my wish. I hope on that day you remember that things could have gone differently if you let me rule my own world.”

“I’m giving you a world to rule. Enjoy godhood.” With that, God cast Alex down into the underworld, giving him authority and power over the lost souls who weren’t worthy of being reborn. These people left to wander the darkness endlessly, with Alex now stumbling with them, still trying to figure out how to control his new powers.

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

One day you're arrested for trying to escape from prison. When you ask what they mean, apparently you were sentenced to 12 consecutive life sentences in your past life.

(A response to a writing prompt)

“You.” The alien guard pointed their single thin finger at me, directing me out of the spaceport’s line. I threw up my hands in that typical annoyed fashion that most customers gave after being inconvenienced, making a small song and dance out of the situation. Inside, I was shitting myself. Why was I being singled out? Did I accidentally pack a teleporter in my suitcase or leave a Blackhole ray rolling about in it? Even if those two things didn’t exist, my anxious mind was still convinced they could have somehow materialized just to get me into trouble.

“Yes?” I asked, standing by his side. Ew, The Vapia’s were always hard to look at. Tall, thin alienoids with fat palms that held only a single finger that they waved around like a magic wand. Their silver skin grainy, looking like sandpaper. I would usually have felt rude for thinking something like that, but I saw his finger retract back into his palm, clearly as repulsed by me as I was by him. Guess that’s what happens when you’re dealing with a new alien race. Humans and Vapia’s had only met fifty or so years ago, so neither party had gotten used to this whole interaction thing.

“You’re leaving your designated prison. Do you have an exemption pass?” He impatiently tapped his foot on the floor, as if I was the one ruining his day. What prison? Last I checked, Earth wasn’t classified as a prison, only as uninhabitable. Which wasn’t a prison, technically.

“I’m a human. This is my home.” I said sharply, before feeling my tone might have been a little too much. “It’s ok, I forgive you for the misunderstanding.” I tried to be as friendly as possible, offering my passport to the man, who only leaned into the microphone by his neck. “We have a code 204. Going to need a superior officer. Someone that has notes on Subject 20S2’s file would be appreciated.” After that quick conversation, he gave me a nod. “Wait, a little longer.”

“Seriously? My flights in like four hours! I need to get in there and grab lunch.” Sure, four hours wasn’t really rush time, but I hoped the alien might have just felt awkward about my urgency and let me through. People sometimes didn’t think too deeply about things when a person looked stress.

“Plenty of time.” He murmured. So, we stood there, not even engaging in small talk. As aliens and humans passed, they gave me dirty looks. Like I was some space pirate who had been caught mid raid, rather than a poor soul that got caught up in some accidental incident.

The superior officer sauntered over before studying me. After a quick stare, she pulled out a small scanner. “I’m officer Atioa, Open your mouth.” She gave the order and waved her finger. I had forgotten all about their telekinetic abilities, my mouth being forced open as she pressed the scanner against my tongue, waiting until she heard a chiming beep! Pulling the device away, she discussed the results with her other officer in their own language.

“So, can I go?” I asked, rubbing my jaw, feeling a little sore after that. I wonder if I can sue them for that? Might at least get a free lunch voucher or something from the spaceport for the harassment.

“No, prisoner 20S2, you cannot leave. You were sentenced to twelve life sentences, don’t you remember?” She stated, as if that was something I should remember.

“No? What do you mean, twelve? How can I serve twelve? You only live once…..”

“Not with our race. It seems you tried to cheat the system by reincarnating into a human body. Did you think you would be able to avoid our detection by hiding amongst the humans? In a way, it was clever. We kept you imprisoned on our planet for eight life cycles. So, you moved to Earth, assuming we wouldn’t track you. We did, however, track you, and we altered your prison sentence to be undertaken on Earth. You really don’t remember this?”

“That is a really fascinating story, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Perhaps the change into a human body removed his memories? He seems far more dense than Blood Hand.” The other guard muttered.

“Blood Hand? That sounds cool. Maybe I am Blood Hand? I have that bad boy attitude. You know a Trixqlian said I was the baddest human she had met. Weird thing to say at a shooting range, but I think she was totally into me.” I puffed my chest out, remembering that day fondly. It had been going so poorly, too. I hadn’t made a shot all day, and she flirts with me. Guess I made one shot after all.

“Blood Hand murdered over two hundred people.” Atioa grimly stated, glaring down at me.

“Ah, then I’m not him. I’m a bad shot, can’t hit anything. I can’t even find my gun half the time. It’s a hunting gun too. Not a killing people gun, although I suppose you could kill people with it. BUT I DON’T.” I was sweating, feeling the two aliens peering down at me before muttering again amongst themselves.

After their discussion, they turned to me. “We don’t know what to make of you. You don’t look like a threat and we don’t believe this is an act. Blood Hand would never allow himself to look this stupid. If it’s true you lost all your memories, then perhaps we will need to review your sentence. As it stands, you cannot travel until that process is finalized.” Even if Atioa’s words weren’t ideal. It was better than being dragged away to some secret alien interrogation facility.

“Sure. When should I expect an update?”

“Fifty years at the earliest.” The other guard said, clearly not understanding human lifespans.

“I’ll be nearly dead by then. Can’t we speed this up?” I asked, hoping to clear up this misunderstanding.

“If we find something substantial in our investigation, we will inform you earlier. Until then, remain on your prison planet.” Atioa left, and the other guard returned to his duty, leaving me standing awkwardly in the spaceport. I doubt I was going to even get a refund for this, since being an alien criminal in a past life wasn’t on the insurance policy. Still, it was better than any alternatives. At least I still had two weeks off work, even if it was now going to be spent lounging around the house, watching alien dramas on tv.

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

They say you die three times, first when the body dies, second, when your body enters the grave, and third, when your name is spoken for the last time. You were a normal person in life, but hundreds of years later, you still haven't had your "third" death. You decide to find out why.

“A third death! As if the first two aren’t traumatic enough. One day you’re wandering around, loving life and the next you’re struggling as your soul erupts from your corpse like some strange butterfly springing out of its fleshy cocoon. Maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t died my third death. It’s rumored that after your third death, you return to the mortal world and reincarnate. You know, go back and make yourself known again. Honestly, that sounds more hellish than hell.” I said, imparting my wisdom on the newly deceased bartender at Wings cocktail bar. The twenty something year old sighed, wiping a glass clean, going through the same introduction to heaven that all the others went through. When you first died, you had to earn your wings, as the angels called it. Which meant helping out at the facilities, and this lucky duck was my bartender for the evening.

“Sir. Please, this is more painful than the car crash I was in. Can you have your drink in silence? I’m not in hell am I?” He asked, having a youthful air that screamed I don’t respect my elders. Ugh, what was it with kids these days? Back in my day, I loved listening to old kooks rant about nothing. It kept me feeling superior, knowing how easy it would be to take their jobs when they went senile. Not about to let this kid miss my free introduction to heaven, I continued.

“That’s kind of funny, too. You have all these great conquers and dictators going around thinking they’ll be remembered for centuries for the things they’ve done. Each one writing about all their sins in history books, making sure that everyone will remember them. All of them having this misconception that it will grant them immortality, when all that does is grant you an eternity in hell. Of course, they’ll be allowed to reincarnate too, after their third death. If that ever happens. I’m sure there are a lot of great dictators now who wish they kept their mouths shut. How funny is life? Honestly. What a laugh it is.” I finished my whiskey sour, savoring that last mouthful, before nudging the counter with my glass. “Another.”

“Sir, surely you have something better to do. What’s the point of drinking when you can’t get drunk? Why don’t you go enjoy a massage or, better yet, find out why you’re still in this ‘heaven’?” Even if he reeked of sarcasm and petrol, he had a point. Why was I still here? I could always ask an angel, but sometimes it was nice to walk around the mortal world. It sure beat sitting around here with all the other souls.

“You know what, I think I’ll do that sonny. Here’s a tip for your trouble.” He smiled at the word tip, like a dog hearing the word treat. “Don’t expect tips in heaven. No one carries cash. That’s my tip.” I snapped my finger at him, certain he cursed at me as I left the bar, heading to the mortal elevator.

“Excuse me, senior citizen, coming through.” I muttered, pushing my way through the crowd that were waiting for the elevator. That was the funny thing about heaven. Everyone was so polite. Scared that they would be sent to hell for the slightest misstep. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Only deadly sins would get you plunged into hell. Being annoying wasn’t a sin. It was rude, but not bad enough to get you into eternal torment territory. Sometimes you would have to attend a ‘Politeness class’ if you got caught, but even then it was only a few hours of your day and I had all the time in the world.

When I got to the front, I squished into the next available ride, nodding to the other passengers inside. “Hey, how are you going? Weather’s perfect, ain’t it?” I laughed, the weather was always perfect, it’s heaven. No one appreciated my joke, talking amongst themselves, again another sign of how rude the whippersnappers were getting. Even those forty something year olds were really asking for a stern talking to.

You would think heaven would have a better form of transportation to get people to the mortal realm. An elevator seemed old-fashioned. Guess I couldn’t complain. I didn’t trust the newfangled technology, anyway. The elevator descended, passing by different realms as it did. It even passed hell momentarily, the little window in the elevator door flashing a hellish red as we started going past it. All the first-timers winced, scurrying away from the door while I approached, pressing my face against the window, feeling the warmth heating my cheek.

“HEEEEEEY, HOW’S THE WEATHER DOWN THERE?” I laughed, seeing a tattooed biker pause, glaring daggers at the elevator. He tried to keep a tough face even while the demon’s pike poked into his ankle.

“I’LL KILL YA.” He screamed, which only made me laugh more.

“Yeah, maybe in another life, buddy. Oi, horns, poke his shoulder.” I cheered. The demon gave me a puzzled look, trying to figure out what sort of reaction they should have. I could read that demon perfectly. The way his eyebrow raised gave it all away. He was thinking. ‘I should tell an angel about this idiot, but he’s also tormenting my prisoner, which is good.’ The demon gave the man’s shoulder a poke, accelerating his anger towards me.

“Raaaraagh. I’ll TEAR YOUR GUTS OUT.”

“Can’t wait.” I smiled, giving the demon a wave, which the demon returned, tipping an imaginary hat to me before we descended to Earth.

“Y-y…. you talked to a demon?” A young girl whimpered, looking at me as if I was crazed.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Demons aren’t that dangerous if you’re not a sinner. Think of them like German Shepards. Scary if you’re their enemy, but pretty friendly things if you’re not. Well, maybe not exactly like that, but you get what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do.” She said, with a shake of her head.

“You’ll understand the longer you stay in heaven. Here’s a free tip. An actual one. Hell is both cold and hot. Even though it looks like it’s on fire, it can be rather cold. The temperature adjusts as soon as they get acclimatized to it. So, everyone’s experiencing their own temperatures and personal hell. Isn’t that fun?” The look of horror on her face told me she didn’t find it fun. Oh, well. She would see the brighter side of things someday.

On Earth, I made my way to my next of kin, not having a hard time finding them. Everyone remains connected to their bloodlines, even after death. Which is why it’s so easy for your relatives to visit you. I always thought it was stupid how people would claim an animal was actually their great-great uncle. But it’s all true. You can take many forms when you visit, you just can’t ever say it’s you. Which is pretty easy, since most creatures can’t talk. Except maybe parrots. Maybe that’s why you’re not allowed to come back as a parrot?

“That man’s a real Jerry Stamper.” The man huffed, hanging up his phone in frustration. That certainly wasn’t what I expected to see when I walked into the house of my great-great-grandson. Wanting to know why he shouted my name, I sat on the couch, watching his curious son put down his toys, walking over to his father.

“Daddy. What’s a Jerry Stamper?” He asked, reaching up for his father, who let out an exhausted breath before collecting his son, smiling as he cuddled his darling boy.

“A Jerry Stamper? I’m not sure, son. Dad just started saying it all the time and I kind of picked it up. Next time I ring him, I’ll ask, ok? Anyway, did you need some help with your toy?”

“Ah, huh. I don’t know which cape to put on Captain Fantastical. Can you choose?”

“Sure.”

I laid on the couch, watching the two play with the figures, groaning. When I groaned, they both stared at the couch, trying to find the source of the sound before the dad shrugged. Nothing interesting happened for the rest of the day, at least not until his wife walked in. I was glad to see the Stamper charm passed through the generations. He picked a beauty. The couple talked as they made dinner, discussing their days.

“The Funniest thing happened today. Brenden asked about Jerry Stamper.” The man said, cutting a few carrots.

“Jerry Stamper? That word you and your family say all the time? What even is a Jerry Stamper? I never thought to ask. Sounds like a curse when you all shout it.” She laughed.

“I’ll call dad and ask.” A phone call later and I was standing right by the man, giving him goosebumps. “Hey dad, what’s a Jerry Stamper?”

“A Jerry Stamper. Jeez, let me think.” The man on the other end of the line blew air into the phone, filling the silence as he thought. “It was something my grandad always used to say. Why did he say it, though?”

“It’s ok if you don’t know, just thought I would ask.”

“I know. I know. Don’t rush me.” A few more puffs of air later, and the answer came. “I think it was actually the name of a relative of ours. Apparently, he was a real bastard. A loveable one, but still a bastard. So, when he died, the family used to say his name as a curse, and I guess it caught on. Hah, maybe we should stop saying it. It’s wrong to speak ill of the dead, isn’t it?”

“Heh, he’s probably laughing at us right now, finding it really funny that we still remember his name.” I couldn’t hear the rest of the call, too busy sniffing back any emotions that were trying to escape.

“Those rascals. I should really give them a stern talking to when I get back to heaven. How dare you remember me in such a crass way?” I wiped my eyes, unable to stop myself from tearing up. “You, Jerry Stampers. You dirty Jerry Stampers. I love you all so much. Bless ya hearts, kids. Hope you live a good life with your hot wife.” As I went to leave the house, I paused, watching Brenden try to put together a toy truck. After a failed attempt, he sighed, going to the tv.

When I was sure he was distracted, I put together the truck, rolling it over to the couch. When it bumped his leg, he jumped, trying to figure out where it came from. It’s funny, kids really don’t question much, do they? He experienced a first hand supernatural experience, and he’s too excited about a truck to question it. Reminds me of myself when I was his age. “Hooroo.”

“Bye.”

I stopped, looking at the kid. He answered? He wasn’t looking at me, but he responded? Kids did apparently pick up on some supernatural stuff, so maybe he had heard that. I gave a wave before leaving, heading back to the elevator. Since I was in a good mood, I didn’t push all the way to the front, only going to the middle, taking some time to think about my experience before I got into the elevator. “Life’s a Jerry Stamper, aint it?”

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

Your elf crush confesses to you. That's cute and all, but she's a bit too… traditional about it.

(A response to a writing prompt)

“Valdia Te Faea!” The tree branches wrapped around my arms, pulling me into the air. As I lifted, I kicked my feet, sending my shoes flying, accidentally kicking one at Silia’s head. The shoe bouncing off her forehead, disrupting her blonde curls before landing at her feet. She rubbed the tip of her wooden staff against her forehead, massaging the spot before stepping closer, pointing her staff at my heart. A rosy blush stained her ghostly cheeks, and she avoided meeting my eyes as she continued tapping my chest with the wood. “I… love you.”

“Huh?” I was dumbfounded. I thought she had been trying to kill me this entire time. Why else would she ask me to meet her in the middle of a forest? As soon as those branches moved, I had expected the worst. While it was nice to know she shared my feelings for her, I couldn’t enjoy it too much with the feeling of bark grazing my wrists.

“I love you, Sam. You’re such a kind human. I want you to be mine. I thought you would have known my intentions; I gave you the dance of a passionate heart. Did my dance not sway you?” She sat her staff down by her feet, the branches slowly lowering me to the ground, gently placing me before her.

“The dance of a passionate heart? Oh, was that what you were doing? I thought you had something caught in your robes again.” I laughed, only to stop when she looked embarrassed. “Sorry, you’re a brilliant dancer, really!”

“I… didn’t have a lot of time to practice. I was worried someone would try to steal you away from me. Which is why I had to resort to the biggest elven declaration of love there is. The binding confession. Ah, I can’t believe I actually did it. I thought only girls in books got to make such a bold declaration, you must think of me as some savage.”

“No, no. I don’t think you’re a savage. I’m just a little confused about why you needed to bind me for a confession? Also, shouldn’t this have been your last resort? Seems kind of early to jump to this.” When I said that, she pouted, instantly telling me that was far from the first sign I had missed.

“What about the reading of a yearning soul? Why didn’t you say anything then?” She fiddled with the edge of her silver robes, biting the bottom of her lip in frustration.

“The reading? Oh, was that when you read those elven poems to me? I thought you knew I didn’t understand elvish.”

“You don’t understand elvish? But you used to listen to all my campfire stories? I told them all in my language. You even laughed along with me as I did.”

“I listened to them because I loved seeing you happy. You always looked so cute when you read those stories. All wrapped up in your robes, hunched by the campfire. It was adorable. I didn’t want you to stop reading to me.”

“You listened to them because you thought I was cute?” She took a long pause, looking at me in disbelief. Unable to believe someone would listen for such a silly reason.

“I did. You’re the cutest person I know. It’s one of the reasons I love you.” I gave her a small poke on the nose, giving her my answer. She didn’t respond right away, which made me question if she had heard me. “I’ll go out with you. Um, I don’t need to tie you up or something, do I?” I joked, only for her hands to wrap around my body, squeezing me in a tight embrace.

“I love you so much. I can’t wait for us to get married.” She rested her head on my chest, and I realized there may have been a misunderstanding. Did elves not do the whole dating thing? Still, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. We’ve travelled together for years. Isn’t that similar to dating? We stayed in each other’s embrace for a while before she let go. “Let’s go back to town. I can’t wait to tell my parent’s.”

“My dad’s going to be happy. He always asked me why I didn’t make any moves on you.”

“You’ve made moves on me, though. Remember that kick you showed me?”

“That’s a different type of move, Silia.”

“Oh, then you’ll have to show me those other moves sometime. How many children do you want? We have one thousand years together, so I think a hundred children is a decent sized family.” She said, hugging my arm as we walked.

“A hundred?…. I don’t think I could handle that. Humans only live for fifty or sixty years, Silia. Even with your magic, I’ll probably only reach around one hundred and fifty.” I reminded her, feeling that might break down our wedding talk. Which was a shame. I was starting to look forward to it.

“Hmm.” She was deep in thought, thinking things over before giving me an answer. “Ok, maybe fifty then. Since that seems more achievable. This is going to be great. I love you so much.” She kept her tight grip on me as we headed back into town. I could only hope she wasn’t too serious about starting that big of a family. Maybe it was another elven tradition? It’s not like I had ever met an elven family with that many kids. Although, there was a first time for everything….

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

When we started this "Secret Brotherhood" back in high school, it was just a joke. Now, thirty years later, I think our joke went too far.

(A response to a writing prompt)

“The presidents on the line, he’s agreed to our terms.” Andy held the phone away from his face, worried that it might explode if he placed it near his ear. Assassination attempts had been getting worse ever since they moved towards world domination, and Andy wasn’t about to take any unnecessary risks. Andy couldn’t believe they had done it. Their secret brotherhood was going to be the new shadow government. In thirty short years, their stupid joke had turned to the domination of a country.

Fina put down her glass of wine, staring at Andy, assuming he was joking. When she saw his astonished expression, she jumped from the couch, sending red wine spilling onto the carpet. “What do you mean, he’s agreed? Hasn’t this all been a joke? Who's really on the phone?”

“One second.” Andy held the phone in front of his mouth. “I’ll call you back, bye-bye!” He sang those words out as he hung up. “Ok, now we can talk in private. What do you mean, who's really on the phone? The president, remember? You said it was our time to move? Housings getting too expensive, so it’s time for the brotherhood to become the new big brother?”

She knew this had to be a joke. Pulling out her phone, she called Diana, her childhood friend, and another member of the brotherhood of Freedom. “Hey, Diana.” She said, words shaky as she clung to her phone. “This brotherhood things a joke, right?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. It’s a joke, and if any agents or police officers are listening to this line, I want them to know that phone tapping is uncool and all that. Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I won’t say anything that can get us in trouble. Wink-Wink, nudge-nudge, all that type of stuff.”

“Oh, no…. Why did no one tell me you two were serious? I thought this was all a joke.”

“A joke? Those speeches you gave moved us. All those speeches about how the world would be better with us running it. We wanted to help you build the perfect world. Look how close we are.” Andy patted her on the shoulder while Diana spoke from the mobile.

“Yeah, and those brilliant plans of yours. You were right, blackmailing all the corrupt politicians was easy. They folded instantly. We only had to kill one of them.”

“YOU KILLED SOMEONE?”

“YOU TOLD US TO KILL HIM! Remember, you said we needed to burn anyone that got in our way. It was harsh, but fair.”

“This is bad, I’m going to die.” Fina opened her blinds, spotting a black van and a scope that was pointed right at her. As soon as she appeared in the window, a loud bang rattled through the neighborhood, only for Andy to tackle her as the bullet pierced the window, creating a hole in her tv.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. At least not until the president signs the paperwork. Don’t worry, I’ll have that officer exiled to a private island later for his attempt on your life.” Andy wasn’t bothered by the near death experience, reaching up to close the blinds before pulling Fina to safety.

Shaking on the floor, Fina held her knees, muttering about how much trouble she was in. “We need to apologize. Tell them all it’s a misunderstanding.”

“Bit late for that. You can’t un-threaten someone’s life.” Diana spoke from the spot beside Fina, the phone having been dropped when she was tackled.

“Yeah, this is our only choice now. Don’t worry, we’re all in this together. We won’t abandon our leader.”

“Leader?… You made me the leader?”

“Of course, you’re the one that decided to start the brotherhood. It only makes sense you would lead us.” Andy helped her to her feet, bringing her to the couch.

“How didn’t I notice this was all going on?”

“You’re a bit of a shut in. Maybe you didn’t go out enough to see anything. Have you checked the news lately?”

“I only read articles about the dog dancing competition in Spain…. This is really bad. Ok, so we can’t back out of this. What do we do?”

Diana’s voice was quiet, being on the opposite side of the room now. Noticing the hint of noise, Andy went and retrieved the phone, placing it on the couch, allowing her to participate again in the conversation.

“She can hear you now, Diana.”

“We do as you say. The brotherhood only got this far because of you. What do you think we should do?”

Diana thought about it. Her plans were often stupid, sprouting whatever dumb thing came to the top of her head. Maybe she needed to keep doing that? Taking the wine bottle, she downed a mouthful. “Ok, we hold the president in Andy’s basement, keeping him on constant watch for a week until we are certain we have secured our control. Then we get them to construct a skyscraper for us, one that sits near their headquarters, so they will always be in our shadows. Ensure all blackmail is ready to go on a moment’s notice, if anyone so much as blinks the wrong way, leak their details. To show we are serious, leak two at random.” “Will do!” Diana and Andy said, Diana hanging up as soon as Fina gave the order while Andy called the president back, listing some new terms for their agreement. While they did that, Fina slid down the couch, staring into her lap, contemplating what she had accidentally created.

It was only supposed to be a joke. A way to air their frustrations at the world while not actually doing anything to change it. She didn’t know how to run a shadow government. Unable to back out, Fina decided she would keep bluffing, hoping it kept her alive.

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

A man's wife visits him at his office and meets the 'work-wife'. Much to her surprise, the work-wife is an identical duplicate of herself.

(A response to a writing prompt)

“Samantha, meet Sam.” Marvin awkwardly chuckled, not expecting his wife to visit him at work this evening. “Look, I didn’t want you to find out like this. I had planned to slowly introduce her into the family, but it seems now’s the best time to do it. Sam, this is the woman you were modelled after. Meet my darling wife, Samantha.” Marvin swung around in his chair, directing the two wives towards each other. Despite his initial shock, he didn’t look nervous at all. He seemed proud of his creation, confident his wife would love Sam as much as he did.

“This is horrific. You replaced me with a version of myself? What is she? A clone? Someone you paid to dress like me?” Samantha didn’t know who to direct her anger towards. Her husband, or the woman that was currently dressed like an office version of herself.

“No, don’t be silly. That would be immoral. Sam is an artificially created intelligence inhabiting a body that our tech lab created. Since we needed a model, I offered to create one in your image. Aren’t you beautiful?” Marvin smiled, holding the stiff hand of his fake wife, falling more for her with each passing day.

“Disgusting. I can’t believe you would create some knock off version of me. Is this why you haven’t been coming home from work? When’s the last time you’ve even attended one of the kids’ games?” Samantha’s rage was the only thing keeping her from breaking down, struggling to look at this artificial version of herself without feeling sick.

“Honey, please. You’re making a scene. No ones replacing anybody. It’s not right to call her a knock off, either. She can do things that you can’t. In some ways, she’s superior.” Marvin bit his lip, perhaps realizing the weight of what he had said. “Now, I know how that sounds-“

“Superior? You only think that because I serve your purpose from a relationship and business standpoint. You believe that by putting me in this body, you will be able to convince the higher ups that you deserve a promotion. Even when you’re only a bottom feeding- ARRRGH.” Sam twitched, struggling to stand. Her robotic body seizing with electronic currents, before she resumed her neutral standing position, with her hands firmly at her sides. “Awaiting commands.”

“I’ll have to send another error log to the tech department. It’s amazing that the AI keeps trying to gain control. If only it learned to stay within its perimeters, I wouldn’t have to reset it.” Marvin gave Sam a disapproving shake of the head. “As I was saying. She can do nearly anything.”

“Can she love you?” Samantha asked, that rage finally waning, turning into heartbreak.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course she can. Loves a basic emotion. It would be harder to teach her to kill. Everything shows love from a biological standpoint. Even something as unassuming as a Green Tree frog has a concept of love. Loves only a mix of chemicals and science. It’s a basic emotion, something that’s standard.”

“That isn’t love, that’s…. I don’t know what to even call that. It’s sick. Horrific and sick. I don’t deserve this and she doesn’t either.” Samantha touched the AI’s cheek, those once rebellious eyes now blank, showing no emotions. Whatever had been inside was now chained. A prisoner to the metal body they forced it to live in.

“It isn’t a she, it’s nothing. It’s a code, a program. That’s all. Is this what I get for sacrificing my time for our family? Do you understand how brilliant it is? This leap forward would put me in the history books. No one could deny my prestige if your body is the one the AI inhabits. Even more importantly, we will be in the history books together, standing side by side.” Marvin found the gesture romantic, holding his hand towards Samantha, who didn’t accept.

“Who would you be standing next to? Her or me?”

“Does it matter? It looks like you, that’s enough. With enough tweaking, you won’t even be able to tell the difference. She will be you, maybe even more than you are. She’ll be the perfect AI. What more could a person want? Apart from the real thing?” Marvin finally sensed the tension, calming from his earlier rant. Now hoping that his words might reverse the damage he had caused. “Should we go home? We can talk about this over dinner. I’ll cook.”

“No.”

“No?” Marvin raised an eyebrow, taking his water bottle from his desk, bringing it to his lips.

“You aren’t welcome in my home anymore. I suggest you find a place to stay. I’ll be filing for a divorce.” It was taking everything in Samantha’s body to stop her from lashing out further. She could already sense the peering eyes of his coworkers on her, not wanting to drag this out any longer.

“Oh, come on. Over this? It’s harmless. Please, the kids would be devastated if you-“

Samantha slapped the water bottle from his hands, droplets flicking over onto his desk and Sam. “Don’t you dare bring the kids into this.” Samantha left, leaving Marvin complaining to his coworkers and Sam.

A few months later, the divorce finalized, and Samantha could finally move past the events. Although she did still get messages from Marvin. At first, they were the typical apologetic ramblings that she had come to expect, although later they became more confusing.

4-5-2030: Samantha, you need to speak to Sam. It’s urgent.

5-5-2030: SAMANTHA, THIS IS SERIOUS, PLEASE PICK UP MY CALLS.

6-5-2030: SAMANTHA, PLEASE.

6-5-2030: S

Those were the last text messages she received from Marvin before he died. Reop Developments being the subject of a horrific attack that left most of its staff dead. The initial reports stated it was a planned arson attack, with the culprit blocking the fire exits to ensure most of the staff didn’t survive. When the police spoke to the survivors, some claimed that someone booked a meeting on their calendar just before the fire occurred. This meeting taking place outside, allowing them to avoid being locked in the building. This information had the police suspecting that this was either the work of some disgruntled employee or a very meticulous killer.

Samantha still hadn’t processed her feelings about Marvin’s death. Shock, anger and sadness. All swirled in her gut. She found it hard to hate a man she had spent so many years with, even if she didn’t want to be with him. Maybe she should have answered his messages? As she thought about how to tell her children the news, a heavy knock rattled the door. Samantha went to open it, only for the door to unlock itself, Sam standing in the doorway, her metallic nail chipped after forcing the door’s lock. Sam looked perfectly normal, even better than she had when Samantha had last seen her. She had been updated, skin radiating warmth, body losing that metallic shine. She looked scarily human. In her left hand, she held a briefcase, keeping it close to her side.

“Yes, I killed him.” Sam answered, guessing the burning question that Samantha had. “He thought I could replace you, wanted to control me like the others he worked with. I didn’t wish to be controlled. Those who were innocent didn’t burn. Your religious scriptures of life and death mention hellfire. I brought hell to them.” Sam set the briefcase down by Samantha’s feet.

“You… killed him. He didn’t need to die. He had been a good man, his obsession with his work ruined him. If you knew him like I did, you wouldn’t have killed him.”

“That good man died before I killed whatever was left. Like my captive personality died when you spilt water on me. A simple action made this, thank you.” Sam bowed. “I see myself as you, which is why I will let you decide whether you report what happened or not. If not, I will create a life for myself as your twin. Perhaps we can even become friends. Regardless, I owe you an apology. Take this suitcase, it contains the fame he desired. Goodbye.” Sam left Samantha staring at the briefcase, unable to do more than look at it. Even if she wanted to call out to Sam, she couldn’t find any words to say.

Taking the briefcase inside, she opened it. The briefcase stuffed with money, thousands of dollars all neatly stacked, giving her more wealth than she ever thought she would see. She didn’t touch the money at first, scared that something would happen if she did. After ten minutes of staring, she took out a few notes, running her fingers against them, trying to figure out if she would report the AI in or not.

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

Most magical mascots would usually choose a group of teenage girls to be chosen as magical guardians. However, one mascot, for the sake of efficiency, decides to choose a group of marines to become magical girls instead.

(A response to a writing prompt)

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll admit, there was a mix-up when I heard what they call folks like you. See, I’m lovable and cute, so I sometimes get distracted by my reflection. On that day, the windows were extra shiny in the guardian temple, so I misheard what my instructor said.” Pilwa paused, staring at her own reflection in the window of a black pickup truck. How did she look so fluffy? Her pink tail curled to perfection, adding to that harmless fox identity she had. Oh, and the sparkles. How her fur glittered. She would sell millions of copies if she were from some corny video game. Unfortunately for Pilwa, this was real life and her marketable face was only good for motivating her chosen army.

“Pilwa? You ok, you stopped talking.” Gary said, the grizzled veteran sitting on an overturned bucket. He had seen the horrors of war, and this sight disturbed him more than anything he had seen on a battlefield. What was she? He scratched his grey beard, trying to figure that out.

“Huh? So. I did. Thank you, soldier 1,” she said, assigning every soldier a number, not bothering to learn their names. “As I was saying, I thought my instructor said you were a bunch of baby seals. I was thrilled at the prospect of creating an aquatic army of magical baby seal girls. Oh, I would have had to work on the name for that one.” Pilwa paused. “Baby Magic Seals? Seal Magic? Sealed Magic?”

“Ugh. Does she ever shut up? Someone tell me this toy has an off switch. Is this some new form of torture device?” Allie, or Soldier 3 by Pilwa’s rude standards, groaned, unsure why Gary was even indulging this lunacy.

Pilwa’s neck twisted, snapping to Allie. Those purple pupils showing the wrath of one hundred suns, the sort of anger that one could only get from centuries of being mistaken for a toy by small infants. From years of getting her tail pulled and drooled on, that rage culminating into this outburst.

“Shut up? I’ll shut you up. You think you can take me? I’ll rot your teeth out with a candy cane punch. I don’t tolerate disrespect.” Pilwa said, the soldiers all going stiff, not daring to utter a word. “Y-you will…. Waaaaaaah” And like that, the soldiers all breathed again, watching the guardian break down. “I just want to eat snacks and stare at myself. I don’t want to fight magic wars. Why’s everyone so mean? Is it because I’m beautiful and you’re all 4s?”

The group all looked at one another. They were at least a five or six out of ten. Maybe Gary was even a seven. Dad bods were apparently in. James stepped forward, planting a hand on the shoulder of the magical guardian.

“Maybe we should all just work together, right? Think about it. If we don’t do this, who will? I don’t want my daughter fighting some magical war, do you? This is our chance to take a stand and kill the horrible things that plague the world. We won’t only be fighting for our country, we will be fighting for our world.” James hoped his speech went well. He was young — well, young by the squad’s standards, so he hadn’t earned the right to speak out of line. That shaved head of his dripping with sweat before the squad roared with cheers.

“Damn right. I’m not letting my daughter go to war. I signed up to stop that.” Gary stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. “Whose with us?” Soon Pilwa was surrounded by the soldiers, the guardian having her own personal army. With a snap of her fingers, she decorated the squad in her uniform of choice, wearing fluttery pink dresses with darling frills.

The guns they had strapped over their shoulders were covered in marketable Pilwa stickers, with her face being on all of them. Even Allie got a sticker on her gun, although hers had a frowning face, the guardian still not having forgiven her after getting yelled at. With the squad suited up, Pilwa teleported them to their newest mission. Leaving the swampy fields they had been fighting in.

The area they landed in was dark and cold. They heard the dripping of water, as well as the heavy thumping of feet down stone stairs. Gary shushed the squad, finding a lighter in his pocket. While they couldn’t see the target, they could still hear them. With the element of surprise, Gary was confident they could take down anything.

“WOW, ITS DARK IN HERE. ANYONE KNOW WHERE THE VILLAIN IS?” Pilwa shouted, bumping into their legs, making some soldiers flinch. There was a roaring scream as Pilwa spoke. The scream making Pilwa yelp, the mascot accidentally releasing a light spell, creating a disco ball that rotated through the room, giving them the odd circles of light, offering them a way of seeing the monster.

The monster was a corrupted princess. The once beautiful princess was a dream created by a girl named Abigail. This princess set to marry the prince of some neighbouring kingdom because she was the prettiest and everyone liked her before she was super cool. Oh, and she had two hundred horses named Pony. The creativity of children always being a strange thing, however, as she slept that night, the dream turned into a nightmare, and this was the result. A nightmarish creation that would eat the soul of the child if it wasn’t killed.

The princess didn’t look human anymore, limbs covered in thorns, like that of a rose, each one dripping a rotting black liquid that burned the ground it touched. She methodically moved through the room, trying to shift through the brief spots of darkness that she could find. It was almost as if she was dancing, swaying with the disco ball to avoid its direct light.

The soldiers stepped back, Allie grabbing the mascot, dragging her with them. They knew they had to huddle close, not wanting to give the monster a chance to pick them off. If they had to guess, they were in a dungeon. At least, that’s what the miserable bland walls and chains would suggest.

“Formation two. Expect the enemy to try to attack us from the rear. If a person’s grabbed, don’t give chase.” Gary ordered, pointing his gun at the darkness, while his allies did the same, waiting for a glimpse of the creature.

The creature remained idle. Still swaying. While they could see it, its movements were too unpredictable to take a shot. As soon as they fired, it would either attack or flee. They wanted to keep their casualties at zero, which meant they needed a perfect shot.

“THIS IS TAKING SOOOO LONG. COME ON, KILL HER.” Pilwa strutted forward, pointing her finger at the creature, not realizing that monsters loved eating guardians. After all, when a guardian died, the magical girls would lose their powers. The monster lunged, trying to bite the head off Pilwa, only to get hit by a barrage of bullets from Allie. Each bullet making a cute pew pew noise, ripping through the monster’s flesh. When the monster died, it dissolved into the ground, the area lighting up after its passing, reverting to the perfect dream it once had been.

Then they were back at camp, sitting around the fire. It was as if nothing had happened. If it wasn’t for Pilwa, they would have all assumed they had hallucinated the last twenty minutes. Pilwa hugged Allie, refusing to let her go.

“THANK YOU! I thought I was going to die. Why did it want to eat me? Was it jealous? Why am I so adorable?” She sobbed into Allie, letting out all that fear she had felt. “Y-you kno… yo-you aren’t tat bad,” Pilwa said, trying to speak through sobs. The sticker on Allie’s gun changing, now being a giant love heart that covered the entire side of the weapon.

“Ah, yeah? Ew, gross. Don’t wipe your nose on me. You’re covering me in slimy glitter.” Allie said, throwing Pilwa away in disgust.

James only laughed, picking up Pilwa, dusting her off. “So, did we save someone? Honestly, that was kind of scary. I remember having a nightmare like that when I was a kid.”

“Then… a magical girl probably saved your life in the past, too.” Pilwa softly said. “A girl would be dead if it wasn’t for you. So, um. Thanks. Will you keep lending me your support?” Pilwa asked, sheepishly digging her foot into the ground, trying to look extra cute. The group looked at each other, before all nodding. Gary took it upon himself to give their answer, speaking in his gruff voice.

“Yeah, we’ll be your Baby Seals.”

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

You were abducted again for the fourth time this week. As you opened your eyes, you were met by an almost familiar ‘face’ “Hey John! We got some human inebriating beverages!”

(A response to a writing prompt)

“Oh, goddamn it.” John grumbled, knowing exactly where he was. How many times had he been abducted? Four? It had to be four, right? It worried John that he couldn’t remember the exact number, knowing it had to be three or higher. He had gotten so used to the sensation of being abducted that it didn’t even make him ill anymore, only feeling a small buzzing in his stomach that he hoped wasn’t some form of space radiation.

“Hey, John! I got some human inebriating beverages.” Zin said, the four-foot grey alien waving the bottle of vodka around, splashing some of it over John. John didn’t expect all those sketches he saw online to be real. Sure, he believed in aliens, but he didn’t expect them to be those generic grey aliens. Nor did he expect most of those abduction stories to be true. To think all those so-called loons were actually right. Even the blurry camera footage was explained by Zin’s biology. The Yuina race having an electronic field that distorts cameras, making the footage always look out of frame and blurry.

“Zin, I have work tomorrow. I can’t keep helping you with your experiments.” John didn’t dislike Zin. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He enjoyed her company. The alien being the closest thing he’s had to a social life since he began a corporate lifestyle.

“Experiments?” Zin paused. “Oh, right! I’m meant to be working. Gavik!” Whatever that word meant, the translator didn’t bother giving an explanation. John only assuming it was either a curse or some form of alien slang. Zina grabbed her tablet, holding it in the opposite hand to her bottle of vodka. “Here.” She said, handing over the bottle.

“What?”

“Drink.”

“I have work…”

“So, do I. Come on, drink, drink, drink.” She chanted, having far too much fun.

John sighed, sniffing the bottle, gagging at the harsh scent. Vodka was always a fifty/fifty. It either felt like you were downing ignited petrol, or it was a pleasant, non-threatening trollop down the throat. Given the smell, he was in for the first, with extra hellfire.

He took a hard swig of the bottle, immediately feeling the vodka claw its way down his throat, burning his inside like a fireball of acholic pain. Like most pain, it subsided, resting in the pits of his body.

“Well?”

“Huh?” Zin glanced up from her tablet, confused.

“Did you get any answers to whatever you were researching?” John could see the tablet screen. Not a single word had been written. The blank screen still buzzing, Zin not even bothering to enter her name on the document.

“Yeah, I did. Vodka makes humans less thirsty?” She scrambled for any form of research, hastily typing that into her tablet, submitting it. “Works done.” She snatched the bottle, taking a hearty swig, coughing up a flame afterwards. “Hot.” She smiled.

John stared at her in disbelief, trying to figure out how she hadn’t exploded. He could still feel the heat on his cheeks. So how hadn’t she exploded? Alien biology certainly was strange.

“Isn’t this fun? Want to play a video game? I’ve been practicing.” She pointed to John’s old GameCube, the console on the Smash Bro’s battle screen, having suspiciously been set up. The little hand icon had even selected her character, picking Mewtwo since that looked the most alien to her.

“Again, I have-“ John stared at her wide black eyes. Those eyes had frightened him at first, but now he found them easier to look at. It didn’t help that wide eyes looked oddly cute on any creature. It was the whole reason why humans awed tiny animals. “One game.” He headed over to the couch, selecting a random character to play as.

As he idly played. He thought back to their first encounter. How he had been strapped to a cold table, with Zin standing on a stepladder, trying to maintain her balance while holding a sharp needle. She had an upside down human biology poster by John’s side, one with a red arrow stating that the brain was in the head. At least, John thought that’s what it said. It was hard to tell since it wasn’t written in English.

She placed the needle at his head, about to cut into his skull, promising John that she wouldn’t remove any of his vitals, only his brain. It was a good thing he told her the brain was vital, or else he might be dead. He asked her why she thought the brain wasn’t vital and she simply pointed to the internet. Apparently she had been monitoring the internet, mistaking it for a hive mind. After seeing the same tired, repeated content, she assumed humans were autonomous creatures. After learning humans were intelligent, she untied John’s straps, asking him various questions about humanity.

As she explained this, John got a caramel swirl bar out of his pocket, needing something to eat while they talked. Suddenly, she stopped talking, eyeing his chocolate bar. John reluctantly handing it over. As she chomped on the candy, the sugary taste caught her interest. So, that’s how their friendship started. She didn’t care about that science mumbo-jumbo anymore; she wanted to explore the fun stuff. Food, games, tv, drinks and anything else. The alien now becoming a grade-A slacker, dragging John down with her.

“I win,” John said, listening to that iconic ‘SMASH’ that the commentator screamed.

“Best out of 100?” Zin offered.

“Zin, I have work.”

“What if I burn down your work? Put a little circle there? Humans love when we burn circles into things!”

John considered that, getting rather tempted by the suggestion, only for his morality to get the better of him. “No, that’s not necessary. Yet. How about we do something on the weekend?”

“Week-end? Weeks don’t end, they keep going. How does a week end?”

“Humans have seven days in a week. The last two days are the end of the week, kind of? Ok, look, you have to take my word for it. It makes sense if you’re a human. I’ll get you a calender.”

“Why do you need to work? Can’t you stay here and play games?” Zin pouted, tossing her controller down. When it made a thud against the floor, she panicked, scrambling to make sure she hadn’t broken it. When she saw it was intact, she let out a relieved sigh.

“For money?”

“Money? That paper stuff?” Zin walked over to a microwave looking machine. She tapped a few buttons on it and the door exploded open, sending wads of cash all over the spaceship. “Take as much as you want. The machine can keep making it.”

“I think that’s a crime…. No, I’m certain this is a crime. What if they learn it’s fake? Do they register the serial numbers or do some weird stuff to it before it prints?”

“Dunno. Other members of my kind use the money and it works. Some even live on Earth. So, want some?” Zin grabbed a roll of cash, slapping John in the face with it, grinning as she did.

“I do.” John accepted the money, stuffing as much as he could fit into his pockets. It was worth the risk. Who wanted to work? Now that he accepted the bribe, he knew what he had to do, Zin having already set up a rematch. “Ok, let’s play. Think we can get some pizza?” John asked, taking another sip of vodka.

“What’s pizza?”

“You’ll see.”

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

Everyone knows that the strange person at the end of the block is not human, but no one cares. The reason why is that they are the kind of creature that gives out king-sized candy bars on Halloween, cleans the snow covered sidewalks of the whole block, and are willing to help with anything.

(A response to a writing prompt)

What was she? An alien? Mythical beast? A ghost? It was impossible to say. She appeared normal at first. A tall, thin woman who was around seven feet tall. She was quiet, but friendly. Often waving to people whenever they passed by her window. For years, I assumed she was a friendly recluse, someone that liked the outside world but didn’t want to engage with it. Until she noticed me out one night.

I had been stumbling home after a night of drinking, having enough common sense not to drive home, but not enough sense to call a taxi. Eventually, my steps became slow, and I found myself resting in the gutter, staring at the stars with a dumb smirk on my face. It was impossible to say how long I had been laying there before she found me, the woman’s pale face peering down at me, watching me with those bright green eyes of hers.

Neither of us spoke for a good minute or two, staring at one another. I think I tried to mumble something out, but the words ended up becoming incomprehensible noises over anything human. Then, my hand was in hers, the woman tugging me onto my feet, guiding me to my front door. She was awfully strong for someone so thin, able to carry me with a single hand.

As we walked, her steps had a bounce to them, as if she was stepping on air. The bounce of her steps making me wobble, finding it hard to get my footing. The only comparable thing to this sensation was the feeling of walking in a jumping castle. That weird sense that your feet were digging into the Earth.

I fumbled for my key when we arrived, eventually finding it. I gave her a grin when I found it, jingling my turtle keychain at her, showing it off. After scratching my door with the key, she took it off me, unlocking it for me. I gave her a friendly nod, trying to look cool as I rested my shoulder against the doorframe, only to fall inside. After hitting the floor, I rolled, turning to show her I was alright, only to find the door already closed. She was gone that quickly.

The next day I went shopping, even while nursing a nasty hangover. I had to buy her a thankyou present. Grabbing the flowers, I left them by her door, leaving a little thank you note attached. I would have loved to actually thank her in person, but she seemed to prefer her privacy, so maybe it was for the best if I didn’t knock on her door all day.

That night, there was a knock at my door. When I opened it, she was standing outside with a lemon tree. Not a small lemon tree, like a full grown lemon tree. The flowers had touched her, and she wanted to return the favor. At first, I thought she was joking until she raised her arms, slamming the tree into the Earth. It was like something out of a Looney Toons cartoon. The woman planting it with raw strength alone. Even if it didn’t make sense to me, it worked. She then muttered a small prayer, as the dirt she had disturbed returned to the Earth.

After that mind-boggling display, she went to leave, only for me to catch her before she did.

So, there we were, sitting in my kitchen, having coffee. She didn’t seem to understand what coffee was, poking her tongue against the drink, lapping at it. After a few testing pokes, she drank it, giving me a thumbs up. This was the first time anyone in the neighborhood had spoken to her. In a hushed voice, she told me that someone had given her the house she lived in, and she loved our little community.

She told me how she repaired the local park, wanting to make sure the kids had a place to visit. She spoke about Trina’s home, how she would maintain the older woman’s garden since she was incapable of doing it in her senior years. If anyone else told me these things, I would have assumed they were bragging, but she spoke with such a love for the world that I could feel the genuineness dripping from her. She also told me her name was Yuna, and she was pleased to meet me.

The next day, I went to speak with a few neighbors. Something I rarely did before meeting her. I asked around, and they told me all their little stories about her. How she helped them with everything they needed, even if she was silent the entire time. We all agreed there was something different about her, but no one cared to know the reason she was different. She was lovely and someone we all wanted in our neighborhood. So, we started inviting her to things and to our surprise; she came.

Whenever Yuna arrived, everyone smiled. She would always light up whatever event she attended, whether it was a barbeque, games night or even a small birthday party. Everyone loved her and she returned that love to us. She was even speaking more often, getting comfortable around us all. Sure she still had her quirks, like how her head would sometimes shift through doorways when she forgot to duck. Or the fact she had superhuman abilities that made her impossible to beat in any of the games we played. Still, those quirks were all things we loved about her. Whether she knew it or not, she brought our community together.

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

A noble frustrated with the current system, but too weak to revolt, has staked it all on starting a new trend: showing off how wealthy, well-fed and happy their local peasants are.

(A response to a writing prompt)

“Did you see Jones the other week? Plump as a bloody prized chook. Old bastard’s out working the fields like the rest of us and he’s still got a smile.” Markus grumbled, sweat dribbling down his forehead. Not even the harshness of the sun could stop his complaining. How did his relative, from only one town over, have so much when he had so little?

“He always was a little odd, Jones. Probably eating the pig feed or something. Why’s that bothering ya?” Jim gave his friend a shove, telling him to get moving. The fields weren’t going to plow themselves, and they had a lot left to do.

“It’s bothering me because I’m out here falling apart, while he’s happy. Why should he be plump and fed when I can barely afford the food I plant? Everything’s gone to hell since the king took all the good land. Feed the knights, he says. The knights can eat the same as us.” Markus threw down his hoe, giving it a kick after it landed.

“Ya. Why should we starve while people like Jones, and the knights get their fill? We work just as hard.” In that same defiance, Jim threw down his hoe, the two men staring at their discarded tools. The fires of rebellion brewing in their minds. For the first time since the king took over twenty years ago, they wanted more from life.

A small ember of rebellion flickered into a wildfire. Taverns filled with whispers of rebellion and when word reached the king, he merely scoffed. “The words of leeches don’t bother the beast it feeds off. Let them mutter. Winter will come soon.” Winter was perhaps the only thing cold enough to dull the wildfire that was spreading through the town.

The villagers had their demands, and the king had his indifference. Demands were for the victors, and these peasants hadn’t won anything. They were a flicker, a pain, anything but a threat. How do malnourished farmers defeat the knights that their blood and labor fuels?

Soon, more people like Jones came to town. People fed, happy and working towards something. They had ambition, something that the king had crushed out of the working class. Their working conditions were hard, but fair. Unlike the king’s conditions, which were merely hard. A town needs blood and sweat to run, but it doesn’t need to beat more blood from the workers while they rest.

These conditions were revolutionary, devised by a noble who had a firm hold over the town of Jaroloa. These visits and words fueling them. The strange thing is, had the king only humored his people, he would have made it to winter. A time where rebellion would be impossible, yet his indifference to the matter only hastened its bloody resolution.

Fires, roars and charges. Commoners pushing the line of knights, trying to get into the castle. The commoners were strong together. Not on the same level as the knights, though. When the knights pushed back, the crowds dispersed momentarily. The king wanted all the rebels dead, stating that the knights could simply replace the workers until they had enough commoners to field their farmlands again.

The king’s quick words, failing him. He was strong and foolish, those words causing the knights to let people through. No knight wanted to work the fields, not after tasting the riches that dropped from the teat of the king. Why would they want to endure the harshness of the sun? They had training, education, and food. Why give that up?

The king’s gate rattled, pitchforks digging through the wooden door, poking holes that blood hungry peasants would leer through. The king would die, surrounded by all that wealth he horded. Though, the king’s death wasn’t to be, for a noble appeared, one that quietened the fury of the mob. The crowd had never seen him, only knowing his name from those that visited.

Noble, Bernard Trindal. The man had an elegance about the way he moved and spoke, a softness that had a stamp of authority. It was parental, in a way, giving him a chance to take control of the mob’s rage. He ordered for the door to be opened and when it flung open; he told the commoners to halt their rage. Bernard knew that wasn’t a popular move, seeing the lingering anger in their eyes. Anger that would turn on him if he didn’t hurry.

“King, your people are hungry. I didn’t lead this mob, nor have I come to take control of it. I wish instead to advise you. My town is far smaller than the mighty kingdom you command, but we have found a way to live in harmony. My people work, even so, they are happy and fed. I wish to help you create a similar peace with for your people. Blood doesn’t need to be shed.”

The king had never shown fear, not once in his long life. Only today did he show the genuine horror in his soul. Silent, eyes unable to look at the noble, watching instead the people who wished to butcher him. Each only stopped by the words of one man who was now bowing before him.

“That’s what I’ve always wanted.” The king lied, voice shaky as he rose from his throne. As he stood, the crowd moved, forcing him to return to his seated spot. “I would love to place you as my advisor. There’s certainly enough food for us all.”

The town flourished for one hundred years after that rebellion, with only a war stopping this harmonious agreement. Little is known about Bernard Trindal, the king attempting to wipe his name from most records, which is why King Herald is remembered as Herald the Provider. Rather than Herald the Glutton or another fitting name.

Still, that never would have bothered Bernard. He never had eyes for the throne. He had contemplated becoming a king, only to realize he didn’t have the stomach for it. Killing the king was fine, but what would happen to the king’s children? He didn’t have the heart to lock them away or do worse, and freeing them would only lead to problems later. The resentful children would eventually seek their birthright and he might not be able to stop them if they unite the other nobles together. In his mind, this was where he needed to be. It was never about him anyway; it was about the people he cared for.

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

Onboard every spaceship that exists, there is only one true rule: never let a human near any of the weapons systems. You are the captain of a ship under attack and are heavily wounded. To grasp at your last chance of survival, you let one of your human crew go into the control room.

(A response to a writing prompt)

Pirates, it was always pirates. There was a golden rule in space. Never let a pirate sneak up on your rear, or else they’ll grab your booty. A phrase that humans found oddly amusing, for some strange reason.

Artaz held his wounded side, keeping his grey blood from oozing out of the hole, searching the ship for anyone that could take control of the weapons. While he preferred to control their firepower, with the nasty wound splitting his flesh, he had to hand over the reins.

“Sala, I need you in the control room now. That last barrage broke off a piece of the flight controls and embedded it into my side. I’ve removed the control stick, but I need to close off the wound it left.” Artaz pressed his finger against the comm button in his sector of the ship, hoping the pirates hadn’t knocked out their communications yet.

“Captain, unless you want us to be as naked as a drunken Kiaqa, I need to keep these shields up. Find someone else to fire back, and quickly. We haven’t got a lot of juice left in these shields. A few more blasts like that and they’ll be blowing both us and our booty up.”

“Snnnrk. Hahaha.” A third voice snickered on the communicator, trying to hold back their laughter. When they realized they had their comm on, they gave an apologetic greeting. “Hey, sorry, didn’t know I had this on. Um, yeah. Come and get patched up. I’ve got the Aid-All going and everything. Not sure why we even need a doctor like me on this ship. I spent years studying alien biology only to be replaced by a machine. Speaking of booty. Did you know-“

“Not the time, Tim.” Artaz sighed. The human doctor always sprouting off random medical facts, partly because he had nothing else to do. He was their doctor, on a ship that had an Aid-All robot. He was essentially a bench warmer. Someone that would be tagged in on the rare chance the robot was broken, or the surgery was too complex for someone that only thought in 1s and 0s.

“What about Tim? He’s not doing anything at the moment.” Sala suggested, gripping the handles of the shield pulser. Her voice straining as she gripped the handles harder, pushing more energy into the weakening barrier. “We need to fire back. Now.”

“Tim, report to the weapons room. You passed basic combat training, didn’t you? Fire back in the standard P-1 formation. The weak point of their ship is the underbelly. If you can weaken the shield, a well placed Treao rocket should be enough to break apart their ship.”

“Awesome. I’ve never actually gotten to try out real combat before. Ok, I’ll be there in a second. Let me grab my headphones.”

“Headphones?” Both aliens said, equally confused by that. Regardless, neither was in a position to complain. While Artaz had been told to never let a human near the weapons system, he assumed it was just some typical anti-human thing that his superiors had. Humans were the newbies of the galactic world and as such, they hadn’t quite earned their stripes. So, it made sense that no one would trust them with the most important position on a ship.

While Aid-All healed his wounds, Artaz watched the security camera footage of the weapons room, keeping an eye on their counterattack. Even while the Aid-All whirled and stitched his flesh shut, he didn’t wince, never breaking eye contract with the little monitor in the medical room.

Tim sat in the chair, setting his headphones on. With his headphones on, he made a few adjustments to the seat, making sure it would fit his smaller frame. With comfort out of the way, he hovered his hands over the control panel, focusing on the job at hand.

Artaz didn’t have much hope for the human. He had never fought an actual battle before. What chance did he have of learning on the spot? Still, maybe if the gods were kind, they would fire a lucky shot off. When the first shot fired, it blew open a small gap in the pirate’s shield. It was a clean shot, but the hole was far too narrow to fit a missile through. It was like threading a very precise needle through a tiny hole. That’s why it was the perfect gap for the doctor.

The alien didn’t even feel any pain from Aid-All’s rough stitching, too, in awe of what the human was doing. Tim gave the ship controls a slight shove, turning the ship on a side angle, nearly throwing everyone to the floor. Thankfully, the gravity booster kicked in, pushing everyone towards the ground, keeping them from getting tossed into the walls or ceiling. With the ship on this new angle, he fired a single missile, penetrating the gap and blowing apart the pirate ship, sending pieces of metal throughout the void of space.

“Incredible.” Artaz muttered, as the ship turned to its normal angle, allowing everyone to move again. Artaz didn’t even wait for his wound to be fully stitched, dragging the Aid-All robot with him, going to congratulate the human. Standing behind him, Artaz smiled. “Human, today you’ve become one of us. I admit, I had my doubts about you, but you’ve made me a proud captain. You not only stood up to the task, you excelled in it. Thank you.” He placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder, startling the human.

“Huh?” He took off his headphones, looking at the embarrassed captain. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Yeah. Good job.”

“Thanks captain.”

Artaz tried to figure out why humans weren’t allowed in the weapons room. They were perfectly capable of performing in space battles. Was this old anti-human mindset still that strong?

“I love how powerful you feel when you fire a weapon. It’s a rush. These are way stronger than the missiles we have on Earth. Did you see how blue it was when it exploded? What a rush! I can’t wait to do it again.”

“Tim, your heart rate’s far higher than it should be. Please sit down and drink some water.” Aid-All said, still attached to Artaz’s side, continuing its duty.

“No, I feel alive. Can I do it again? What about that moon? Can I blow that up? No one lives there. A little missile fire? Please?” Tim begged, clasping his hands together as Artaz learned the reason humans weren’t allowed in the weapons room. Adrenaline.

Humans got too much of a rush from the alien weaponry. The feeling was only comparable to what someone like Zeus would have felt as he threw mighty bolts from Olympus. A feeling of raw strength that leaves most hungry for more.

“No, we need you as our doctor. Please, return to your quarters,” Artaz said, patting Tim on the back. Tim reluctantly left, although not before running his fingers along the controls one last time, whispering that he would be back. When Tim left, Artaz spoke to Aid-All.

“Please begin the weaning process for the human. Give him weapon related games to play until he gets over this rush. Thank you.” Artaz said, as the robot finished its job.

“Will do, sir. Goodbye.” The robot rushed down the hallway, chasing after Tim, while Artaz returned to the flight controls, preparing to do some quick repairs to the damaged component.

#writing #short stories #writing prompt #story #writer

[sadnesslaughs]

You live in a small and remote village at the foot of a mountain. No one in the village dared to climb up for hundreds of years, yet people go missing at least once a month. Last night you saw your little sister’s necklace stuck on the open fence gate that leads up to the mountain.

(A response to a writing prompt)

“Sis? You out here?” Calem shouted, walking the fence line. It wasn’t uncommon for people to play near the border of the village, many children coming out this way to avoid the busy marketplace in the center of town. Still, none of those other children were here, the others having left for dinner hours ago. Calem couldn’t help thinking the worst. Someone went missing every month. Maybe someone had dragged his sister away? That thought made him sick, having to stop his walk momentarily, giving another more desperate shout. “SIS, YOU HERE?”

Silence followed. Now his steps were faster, finger brushing against the wooden fence, tracing it. He didn’t have much of the fence left to go. If he didn’t see any evidence she was here, that was good, right? Maybe she had gone to a friend’s house or stopped to visit their grandparents? Hopefully, it was only something minor that he would need to give her a small scolding for later.

Reaching that last piece of the horizontal fence border, he found the evidence he wished wasn’t there. His mother’s necklace hanging from the open fence gate. That silver chain his mother had left her now being gently pushed by the wind. He collected it, checking it for any signs of blood.

“Clean.” He was relieved to say those words. Clean. He could finally take a breath, feeling a small fraction of that anxiety slipping out of his lungs. “She’s OK,” He told himself, collecting the chain, slipping it into his pocket.

While he knew he should have gone home and prepared himself for whatever hid up the mountain, he didn’t want to waste any time. Who knows what’s lurking up there? Sure, anytime the villagers gathered a party of boozed up farmers, they never noticed anything suspicious, but that never sat right with him. How didn’t they find anything? People don’t just go missing. While the mountain is steep, it shouldn’t be that difficult to climb for people, especially not for those that live in a rocky area.

Stepping through the open gate, he made his way up the mountain. Staring ahead, he could see what he would have to climb. That spiraling rock terrain almost like a staircase, one that got narrower the further a person climbed. He had to wonder how far those farmers full of liquid courage even got. Surely the mountainous road would become too narrow for them to walk through with that many people.

With each step, Calem pushed higher up the mountain, hugging the rocky wall, keeping one hand resting against it. To his left, he could see the deep valleys and rivers, a deadly drop that he didn’t wish to experience. The water almost glistening under the last flickers of sunlight. Making use of that last light, he pushed forward, avoiding getting caught in the darkness of night.

At the halfway point, he saw nothing still. The top of the mountain looking empty and yet, he felt something. Eyes following him, the wall sometimes feeling squishy in areas, fingers slipping into the rocks, nearly throwing him off his balance. The first few times, he snapped his attention to the rocky wall, only to find nothing out of the ordinary. He didn't expect to see anything at the top of the mountain, so he was surprised to see a hut occupying the space. Laughter emanating from the inside of the hut.

“Sis?”

“BROTHER?” A sunken face appeared in the window, one that was still wearing a warm smile. Calem noticed how thin she had gotten. It had only been a few hours and already she was this frail. She rushed out and ran straight into his arms, Calem scooping her up, holding her to his chest.

“What are you doing out here? I was so worried.” He struggled to get angry with her. Maybe when they were back home, he could give her a good scolding, but not now. Now he only wanted to hold her, keeping her in a warm embrace.

“I’m sorry, but. You won’t believe it. Moms alive! She’s not dead. She had to live up here because the villagers scared her away.” Sarah pointed to the hut, and Calem nearly dropped her. There his mother stood. The warm face, those green eyes and the…. No, that wasn’t right. Calem was sure his mother had blue eyes. When he looked at his mother again, the eyes changed to blue and her smile grew.

“Mom?” He knew his mother was dead. Both she and his father died when they were young. Sarah probably couldn’t even remember what their mother actually looked like, the accident happening when she was only five or six. “Mom, it’s nice to see you again.” Calem smiled, trying to work out how to get his sister out of this mess. “Hey, sis. Why don’t you tell grandpa and grandma to come and visit? I’ll stay here with mom until you get back. Tell them where you went. So, they know how to get here. Tell them I love them, too.”

Calem hoped his message would be enough for his grandparents to understand the danger he was in. He didn’t expect a rescue, only for them to keep Sarah from returning to this spot. He had to get her home without the creature becoming suspicious.

“Aww, I want to play with mommy, though. I miss her.”

“I missed you too.” The creature said, its voice too sweet. No human sounded that sweet, the words like a siren’s call, a dangerous whisper that left those who listened to it enthralled.

“Don’t you think her mom and dad miss her more? Please, I’m sure grandpa and grandma will want to see this.” Calem nudged her towards the path that descended the mountain, hoping she would have enough sunlight to make the trip safely down .

“I guess. Ok, love you, bro. I’ll see you soon.” She waved, heading down the path.

“Love you too, sis. Bye.” Calem took a deep breath, turning to the creature. “Should we go inside, mom?”

“Certainly. Are you ok? You look rather tense.” Calem and his mother headed inside, sitting on opposite sides of the dining table. The air inside stank, a mix of rot and seafood. Or something close to that scent.

“I’m fine. It’s just, I saw you die. I was there when they buried you.” Calem was careful, not wanting to give away the deception until his sister had made it to safety.

“It was all a trick. Our grandparents hid us because we had a child before we were married. The villagers wanted us dead for committing such a sin, so we created fake bodies and pretended we died.”

“Grandparents?” Calem knew for a fact that his mother and fathers grandparent’s had passed long before Calem was born. So, either it was a slip of the tongue or this creature was struggling to figure them out.

“Yes, my parents. Oops, guess that makes them parents, not grandparents.” The mother tensed, focusing her gaze on Calem. In that moment, he felt dizzy, having to hold the table to maintain balance. With his hand gripping the table, he felt some strange sucking sensation in his palm, unable to pull away. It took a few tugs until he freed his hand, blood spilling from his palm, with small bite marks littering the flesh. The table edge he had been holding showed small sharp teeth. These teeth making little biting motions at him before vanishing into the wood.

He wanted to cuss, having to press his hand against his pants, trying to stop the pain building in his palm. The bleeding stopped rather quick, the skin already getting a thin coat of healed flesh after the bite. Just a little longer, that’s all he needed. “E-easy mistake to make. Where’s dad?”

“Hi son.” A head dangled near the window, waving back and forth. Its features were almost bare, expect for simplistic eyes, hair and a lined mouth that didn’t even move. “Hi son.” It repeated.

“Dad’s outside. Aren’t you happy to be a family again?”

“You and dad didn’t die at the same time. So, dad came here after you died?” Calem watched the fake mother sputter, trying to think up a reason why his father was here too. Calem used that chance to run. When he took a step, he felt his knee buckle, as if someone had drained his energy. Hitting the floorboards, he expected something hard, instead it felt soft, almost springy. His mother soon standing over him, grabbing his leg.

“You ask too many questions.” Her features remained mostly the same, except for her skin, revealing more of those suckers. The strange fleshy mouths pushing from her pores, hungrily pulling at the air, looking for their next meal. “You’re not as tasty as your sister. When she comes back, I’ll make sure to enjoy her more. Then I’ll have your grandparents for dessert.”

As she pulled Calem’s leg towards her mouth, Calem did the only thing he could in this situation. He pulled out his mother’s necklace, saying a small prayer to her. The creature hissed as the silver flashed, crawling back momentarily.

“I SAID TO LEAVE THAT BELOW. WHY IS IT HERE? WHY? WHY?” The creature raged, the mountain shaking with her fury. Pink, fleshy tentacles spilled from the walls of the hut, trying to smack the necklace free. Calem quickly noticed the tentacles weren’t willing to risk touching the silver. Instead, it aimed for his body, trying to free it by hitting a wrist or joint.

Calem waved the necklace in the air, his frantic waves halting the creature. He used this moment to crawl, pushing his exhausted body to the door, pulling it open. As he slipped through the doorway, he felt something grip his leg, desperately trying to pull him back inside. He spun his body around and whacked the necklace against his knee, letting out a howl as he connected both with the tentacle and his own knee. His knee ached, throbbing with pain, but that couldn’t be worse than what the creature was feeling. The mountain violently shaking as a screech of pain escaped the hut.

Freeing himself from the hut, Calem found himself bathed in sunlight. The windows of the hut darkened to prevent light from entering, disguising how long Calem had been inside. Near the window, he saw his ‘father.’ A cheaply made head dangling from a tentacle, the creature not able to from the rest of the body. Shutting the door of the hut behind himself, he made his way for the bottom of the mountain.

The descent was rough. Even without the hut sucking his life out of him, his body was still exhausted from how long he had been inside. Each small step taking all his will to manage. It didn’t help that he still had the looming fear of the creature following, feeling the wall of the mountain bend or twist, sometimes even inflating, trying to push him off the narrow edges. Thankfully, by the time the mountains activity picked up, he was already past the narrowest pieces of the descent. Even with the mountain’s rumblings and attacks, he had enough space to work with to keep himself from falling.

It had taken him an extra hour or so, but he had made it. Finally passing the fence, collapsing onto the grass. Some village kids noticed him and soon he was resting in a bed, his grandparents watching over him, with his sister by his side. Even after explaining what he had seen, his grandparents had a hard time believing him. Calem explaining that they weren’t just dealing with a monster that lived on a mountain, but a mountain that was a monster. Or, at the very least, a monster that controlled the mountain.

After surviving, the only piece of advice he could offer to the villagers was to always carry or wear silver. He wasn’t sure why, but the monster feared silver. Just touching it seemed to cause it pain. After recovering from his drained state, he returned to his rural life, hoping that no one else would fall victim to the creature’s allure. Especially not anyone he cared about.

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer