No One
By Derek McEldowney (Deviacon)

It’s amazingly easy for me to get into places when I just act like I belong. Looking the part helps most of all, I just have to blend in with my surroundings. If I dress in a suit and tie, I can walk into practically any office building I choose. Extraordinarily diligent people will sometimes stop me for a moment, but all I have to do is act embarrassed about being new or visiting for the day and that’s all they ever need to hear. It’s important that I never return to the same place in the same disguise. Carrying a clipboard always helped immensely. Nobody ever wants to talk to someone with a clipboard. For all they know, their name is on that clipboard; best to steer clear of it and the person holding it.

I’ve always been unremarkable—easily forgettable. When I was young, I used to hate being this way. I would fight tooth and nail to be noticed any way I could, always trying to be like those who could draw attention without effort. The only remarkable thing about me were my teeth, and I had a bad habit of smiling a little too wide a little too much when I was having fun. As I got older, I really started to appreciate what it meant to be unremarkable—to be forgettable. There was an invisible freedom to it, and I couldn’t live without it now.

On another floor of the building, my eager breath quickened with every shadowy footstep. The nervous itch behind my eyes began to grow. I tried to hide my smile behind the clipboard as I stalked the halls. The rows of jagged teeth would always give me away at the final moment, but it was never really an issue.

I liked being no one, because it meant I was free to be anyone. After all, the best disguises are the skins of the humans I eat.

Because I am Here
By Jesse Fisher

Goraidh let his rage out fully, they should not be any other outsiders. How could there be?

Then he looked at Grangal as she seemed pleased like…she planned this. Somehow this destined breeding god had outsmarted him, This bubble headed, ditzy, dumb as a Roc girl had brought in beings similar to her.

The flirting that just happened just confirmed it, she planned for this.

The knives in his robe seemed to call for the injustice this hussy has done to him.

—-

Demon noticed his ‘employers’ and the lack of jeering did lead the wolf to conclude why it was so quiet right now. Looking at the hybrid…hybrid, he would have to discuss if a griffin was a hybrid later, and grinned before jumping again.

Rather than just push off of the combatant’s head the wolf flipped and grabbed the talons. The Wyriffion tried to fight him but had to focus on not falling into the lava below while dealing with the unwanted rider.

This played into the navy wolf’s plan as he moved to make his impromptu stead go for the podium that held the cause for him being there.

A forcefield of some kind shattered as the wyriffion moved to remove the rider on his back. With a swift jump Demon launched his former stead into the ground knocking him out cold.

There before him was his reason for being here, in terms of place in this multiverse and universe respectfully.

Dusting himself off and some dried blood from times he was a bit too slow, he approached them both. A set of griffon guards stationed up there rushed him first but two knockouts it was just two strangers and a player.

“So this is the chicken hearted dick that has been pulling the strings.” Demon spoke his yellow eyes narrowing as he focused on Goraidh. “I can taste the rage in the air, so let it go make me break my word and let the blood rain down like a summer storm.”

With a caw and quick draw of knives Goraidh rushed towards Grangal.

“Their Eyes in the Darkness”

By Aaron Fleming

I stood in the Precursor ruins that I’d been searching for the fugitive Alkadin. I couldn’t help but pause at the cyclopean statue, a mostly humanoid figure, vast in size, made of ancient carved black basalt. It stood as it had for many millions of years longer than mankind itself had as a species. I turned my sight away from the unceasing gaze of its single eye.

My environmental suit muffled outside sounds, so I could only hear my breathing and heartbeat. I reached out with my telepathic senses trying to find the hiding fugitive, but the psionic energy residue from the Precursor machines lingered even now and made it difficult to sense his mind amidst the echoes. This was likely Alkadin’s hope in coming here, that he could hide from me amongst the shadows of the past.

I walked beneath a tall archway into another equally vast side chamber. I swept my light across the chamber, only to freeze for a moment when I saw what was left of him. His head was intact which was how I recognized him, but the rest of him looked as if he’d been turned inside out and used to clothe one of the statues. I rushed forward and collected some tissue samples, looking around me into every dark corner. That would be proof enough of his death. I hurried to leave quickly, not wanting to meet whatever Alkadin had.

I left the ruins as quickly as I could, back through the twisting corridors and gargantuan rooms filled with alien statues that gazed at you through the dark. I finally emerged from the ruins into the surrounding barren dusty plains. Out here it seemed as if nothing lived on this world. Barren gray wastes stretched on for miles. It had been scoured of life long ago, probably by whatever killed the Precursors as well. I returned to my starship and left that world behind. I couldn’t shake the feeling though, the eyes in the darkness, and the emptiness of that long dead world.

The Forest Guardian
By Matthew (Handsome Johanson)

It was another cold autumn day and, again, I found myself amongst the gentle oak trees of Ridgeway State Park. The park had many, many branching pathways and it was never a dull time getting lost amongst the maze of red and yellow trees.

Very quickly, I found myself lost and couldn’t be happier. While taking in the scenery, I noticed an old, iron-looking bridge off of the beaten path. The trail to the bridge seemed unused with some brush even growing in it, but the journey wasn’t too difficult. Despite my frequent visits to the park, this bridge remained completely foreign to me. Curious to explore what lay beyond, I trekked forward into the unknown.

The forest felt… more natural here. The trail was much more narrow now, and the oak trees grew wilder as they twisted into the sky. The wind must’ve died down then because all I could hear was the crunching of the brilliant red and yellow leaves that covered the trail. As I traveled further and further into the wild, I found myself admiring the tranquility of the complete absence of humanity.

I stopped for a moment to take in the scene. All around me, the forest spread out, primitive and unkempt. A chilly wind picked up. Staring out, I felt slightly uneasy. I couldn’t help but get the feeling that I…

“You. Don’t. Belong. Here.”

I whipped around to where I heard the whisper behind me, but there was nothing there. I paused, scanning the wilderness. Every gentle movement of a branch caught my eye as a possible figure.

“Get. Out.”

This time, it was much closer. I bolted, not turning back for a second to see who accosted me. Leaves crunched as I made my way through the twisting oaks. Their branches clawed at me as I ran, threatening to end my flight early. Finally, I see the bridge.

Running out of breath, I stopped as I crossed. I turned around preparing for a fight, but instead of an attacker, there was just a vortex of leaves gently returning to the earth.

Little Soldier Boy
By NocteVesania

“Take cover!”

Those words signaled the first mortar shell, the herald of slaughter. Then came the barrage, blasting us into oblivion. Those left standing ran for cover behind rocks and trenches, hoping for a glimmer of salvation, while I stood there, awestruck from the turmoil. Their shouts and cries, mixed with the gunshots and blasts, create a certain cacophony, a symphony of death and destruction.

“Private! Get down!”

I heard the captain’s call, his stern tone now overcome with fear. I looked at him, his face covered with blood and grime. I tried to run to him, but my legs would not move. My mind screamed of danger, but my body would not respond. The thunderous blasts fell closer and closer, but I stood there, frozen in fear, until finally, one fell close to my feet.

There was a boom, then deafening silence. I opened my eyes to a bright blue sky. The serenity of the moment reminded me of the quiet life I once lived. I remembered my family, my father’s stern but caring voice, my mother’s warm embrace, my sister’s cheerful laugh. All of them seemed so far away, like the white clouds rolling away from my grasp. Tears fell as I realized my fate, that I would never see them again.

How did everything turn out like this? Was this from those sweet words of the glory of battle, of laying your life for the country? Or was this written in the stars, that this boy be taken away to die, lost and forgotten? What am I fighting for? Was my demise in vain?

In my last moments, amidst the madness and fire, I could only smile at the thought of this farce. With a painful chuckle, my final words escape my lips.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Landfall
By Shaviathan

Visantra gazed at the shore as the longship pulled in to the harbor. Dark clouds littered the sky and a veil of white covered the trees. Ice creeped out from the rocky shore, crawling across the open sea to greet any foreign ships that might dare to sail in these waters. Towering above it all was a lone mountain piercing the sky like some giant’s spear. It loomed over the whole landscape casting a shadow that was simultaneously comforting and ominous, though she could not tell why. This place was a far cry from her green home of Vidran.

An icy wind blew through the harbor, chilling the blood in her veins and shaking her from the trance. She looked around at the other slaves taking in the same scene, their faces filled with a bizarre mix of awe and dread at their new home. Visantra was by no means the only elf on the ship but she was certainly the youngest.

“Why would they take a child,” she thought musing over her capture, “and a thief at that.”

Just then she felt a tug on her shackles as she was pulled off the deck, almost as if they could hear her thoughts. The slaves were yanked off the ship and lined up on the docks. Visantra was kept at the furthest end of the dock, away from the rest of the slaves.

Then he approached her. The Vahallarian with eyes as cold and blue as ice, the same one who captured her. He stared into her eyes his gaze chilling her to the bone, or maybe it was just the wind again, Visantra hoped. And then he did something unexpected, he unlocked her shackles. She gazed at him confused, out of all the slaves she was the only one who had her shackles removed. Ice eyes then stood next to her while the slaves were sold. When they were all gone he spoke.

“come,” he said, and began to walk. Visantra couldn’t tell if she was free or if he simply knew she couldn’t escape.

“Another Dinner Party”
by Carrie (Glaceon373)

Just another dinner party, Roselyn told herself. Another monthly mansion gathering, with people drinking too much wine and talking about politics.

Then why did she hate every second of it?

She wandered around, listening to the conversations, ignoring any glances her way.

“Ya think the elves are actually investigatin’ it, or just waiting to blame the vampires for suspense?” she heard from the corner of the room.

Roselyn marched towards the two moustached men holding wine glasses. “Vampires are extinct, as you should know. And the bat-folk, which I assume you meant, have no reason to attack innocent people.”

The two men stared at her.

“Lady Roselyn.” She held out her hand and smiled condescendingly. “I believe you know my mother?”

“…Well, Lady Roselyn,” the man on the left swirled his wine, “then I assume she taught you to stay away from dark creatures, then?”

“Yes, but one must have knowledge of all possible foes.”

“Hey,” the other man pointed at her, eyes unfocused, “you go to that weird school, don’t ’cha? Those imps an’ werewolves an’ vampires messin’ with ya head?”

Roselyn forced a smile over her rising anger. “The point of the Academy is so we can become a more inclusive society, so light-side and dark-side species can get along.”

“Well,” the man on the left said, “you need to learn you’re above all those monsters. Once you’re older, I’m sure you’ll—”

“Oh, so am I a child or a Lady?” Roselyn stepped forward.

“I—that’s not—”

Roselyn sighed. “Nothing I say would convince you anyway.”

And with her emotions through the roof, Roselyn spun around and left the banquet hall.

She collapsed into the study’s softest chair. “Sam, are you here yet?”

The silhouette in the tall study window opened its glowing yellow eyes and smiled, her bat ears perking up. “You called, princess?”

Roselyn burst out laughing. “You’re not smooth at all.”

“I know.” Sam jumped down and put her hands in her hoodie pockets. “What did they say this time?”

“The usual,” Roselyn recounted the tale, feeling better and better with every word.

Darkness
By Astrid Jones

Darkness. Everywhere was darkness. Sheila was certain her eyes were open. Even the hand she held shakily before her face was swallowed by the absolute blackness around her. She was dimly aware she was lying down. Her hands found crisp sheets tucked around her. A plastic tube draped across one of her arms. The incessant beeping that had filled her ears long before she had tried opening her eyes finally made sense.

She was in a hospital bed. That couldn’t be right. She shouldn’t be in a hospital. Only moments ago, she had been on her way to pick up her brother from the airport. Why wasn’t she in her truck? Why was is so damned dark?

Panic rose in Sheila’s chest. She clenched her fists by her sides, trying to fight it down. The persistent beeping quickened. Perhaps it was night. But there should still be light of some sort. Where were all the blinking lights on the machines? Those should show up in the dark at the very least.

Her brow furrowed in frustration and something tugged against her skin. There was something on her face, something that was covering her eyes. No wonder she couldn’t see anything. She must have covered her head with a blanket. Sheila raised a hand to pull the fabric away, but someone grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t… don’t touch your face.”

Her brother’s voice. But Mell was supposed to be waiting for her at the airport. He wasn’t supposed to be here. She wasn’t even supposed to be here.

Sheila tried to speak, but all that came from her mouth was a rasping croak. Mel sighed shakily and twined their fingers together.

“There was a tree, sis. They were cutting to close to the road and—” A sound came from him Sheila had never heard before. “And there was a fire…”

“Dark,” Sheila managed to whisper.

Mel squeezed her hand. “It’s not good, sis. Doc says it’s probably permanent.” He pressed his forehead against her knuckles. “This is my fault. If you weren’t coming to get me… You shouldn’t be here.”

“No Regrets”
By King_Nix

Liam sat, looking out over his property. A light breeze swept through the field of wheat. In the late Summer heat, the shade of the patio provided some respite from the Texas sun. How long had he owned a farm?

BEEP

A year or so, he figured. Yes, it had to be. He and his-

BEEP

“Sofie?” he called, looking back to the door of…his?…house. Liam went to stand, but fell face first onto the floor. Where were his legs?

BEEP

He stood up. There they were. “Hey, Sofie, what’s that dreadful-”

BEEP

On the floor again. His wife came out to him, but when had they gotten married? The last time he had seen her was…when? She didn’t…or did she? His head throbbed. She knelt down to him, and he thought she was speaking, but he only heard-

BEEP

Liam opened his eyes. That’s right, he thought, memories rushing back to meet him. The sterile room around him was all too familiar. The machines keeping him alive beeped periodically. He dreamed frequently of Texas now, being bound to this bed, but he knew that his nation was only a distant memory here. Betrayed, broken apart by those who dared call themselves Americans, the fledgling republic had died years ago.

He should have stayed. He should be back in America with Sofie, even if she didn’t love him. He shouldn’t be here, a thousand miles away. But he had found a new purpose, a new nation, here, so far across the ocean from the ruin of his home. Liam had found his nation in the Roman Legion.

Still, his legs taken from under him, the stump resting where an arm should be, his very being kept alive by these machines, he shouldn’t be here.

He should be dead. Even so, he regretted nothing.

Trapped
By Hemming Sebastian Bane

Let me out.

Please.

Let me out of here.

I should have known better. When I saw the man with the crooked grin, I should have ran. But I stared. He looked so strange. Ink black claws. One arm was as long as his body, the other didn’t reach his waist. His skin was like a beetle or a fish. I’ll never forget the smell. Sweet and pungent with a hint of rotten egg. I thought it was just his sorry state as he laid among the rain barrels.

How wrong I was.

He asked if he could spend the night at my house because of the downpour. I said yes. By the gods, why did I say yes?

He thanked me. Then he inserted his hand into my mouth. I froze. I should have ran. But I froze. I stood there as the world started to get grayer. Get more distant. Next thing I knew, I was a prisoner in my own mind.

The man with the crooked grin, Malphias he called himself, puppeted my body. He did horrible things. Evil things. So much red. So many screams. Then, the rest came. One by one, they entered my body. Each day they scratched me. Scarred me. Mocked me. Passed me among them like a tobacco pipe.

So here I am; trapped in my own mind as my body does evil deeds. If anyone can hear me, please find an exorcist for me. Please, I beg of you.

For love of the gods, help me! Help me!

Let me out. Please. Let me out.

Let. Me. Out.

Please.

Let me out.

Let me out.

Let Me Out.

Let Me OUT.

Let ME OUT.

LET ME OUT.

LET ME OUT!

LET ME OUT!!

LET ME OUT!!!

PLEASE, I BEG OF YOU.

LET ME OUT.

…

You can’t, can you?

I understand. That’s fine.

But before you go, may I ask you a question?

Can I stay at your house tonight?

Dead
By TheAssassin

The grey clouds coiled overhead, and the cold rains splashed the ground. Kneeling in a field of graves, dark and hollow, the old captain wept alone. None more to solace him, none more to soothe him, for all that once could are gone – Buried beneath the dirt on which he cried.

He alone lived. He alone suffered. If happiness there truly be, why does it not linger with those who most need its touch? Why does it abandon us? If happiness there truly be, then it is a cruel trickster preying upon the broken. For none more than the broken need it, yet none to the broken is sent.

The man unsheathed a knife from his weathered belt. Since happiness would not now him find, then he would to his fallen friends flee. None to stop him, none to caution him, for all that once could are gone. He was alone. He held the knife against his gut, closed his eyes, screamed, and pushed.

Something held him. A warm, but firm hand holding his arm and preventing him from moving the knife. Another hand fell upon his shoulder. Another upon his chest. Another upon his back. They came and embraced him, holding him. Keeping him from falling apart.

He opened his teary eyes and saw light. Blue ethereal light dancing in the rain. And in that light of life, he saw the dead. His fallen friends. His brothers. He saw them holding him together and they smiled.

How could this be? He saw them die. He felt their lifeless corpses limp in his hands. But these specters, they did not waver. His hands shook and he whimpered. Even in death, they were with him.

“My old friend,” the familiar voice gently echoed with the wind, “you are not alone. We are with you. You carry us now. Be strong. You are our brother. We love you. Forever.”

Their warm touch did not let go. They were there to solace him and soothe him. To save him. They were with him. Always.

And they did not let go.

The wrong one
By: Larissa (Lari B. Haven)

She and the Professor were visiting the factory’s construction site when she was hit from behind and fell off the guarding rails.

It was a miracle she wasn’t dead, stuck knee-deep between two pipes, being held in place by the steel ropes and chains like a mangled puppet.

She saw a hooded figure looking at her from the ground; they had something long and metallic in their hands.

A loud bang startled her; the figure was jumping from one duct to another. Each jump louder and heavier than the other.

Her heart was racing, she wanted to move away, but her body would not respond.

Soon she saw a pair of legs quickly landing on the duct in front of her. The disjointed pose inside the heavy cape showed how huge they were. The hooded figure was not a man, or at least they weren’t human.
She couldn’t breathe, and if she could stop her heartbeats, she would.

“Was not supposed to be you.” Its voice was thunderous and distorted.

“H-help!” Alexandria tried to shout.

“That old man, he was quicker than I thought.”

They lowered the cape, and they confirmed her thoughts. The creature was a mass of wires and gears. Connected to each other by patches of what used to be skin. One of their eyes was a red light, covered by something bulbous.

“But perhaps you know him, right? You came with him.” They continued, their icy hands touching her skin. “He chose well. You look like a painting.” They grinned. “So you will do my little bird, you will do…” They snatched her by the hips and its metal arms lifted her, snapping the ropes that imprisoned her with ease, as the mechanical man hybrid held her like a rag-doll.

She tried to fight them off, slapping them in the face but the thing let go a laugh, and with one hand choked her until the air left her lungs.

“That Professor and I, we have debts to settle…” They said as she lost strength.

The pain consumed her mind. Soon everything was darkness.

Survivor’s Torment
by Exce

Heavy rain pelted onto the rugged cliffs overseeing the ocean, which itself was crashing into them down below with foam-tipped waves.

A lone figure sat hunched there, boots dangling dangerously over the edge.
Pale blond hair was matted to his skull, and the beginnings of a shaggy beard hung from his chin.

William’s eyes were red-rimmed and sunken. He was looking out over the churning ocean and sky. Grey to grey from horizon to horizon, a matching image to what he felt tormenting his mind and soul.

He was aware that a tiny spark of magic could relieve him of any discomfort. But he deserved this, the clammy cold and biting wind. Besides, his magic had felt strange recently. Almost painful to use.

Both time and distance separated him now from his dark deed, but not enough.
No matter how much Lady tried, he could not forgive himself, could not forget the annihilating magic.

Lady should have left him in the dust desert.
Should have left him to die like all the others.

His fingers dug into the soaked material of his trousers, tears welling up. It would be so easy. Whilst he could not directly turn his magic against his body, it would take but a thought to turn water to acid or the air into a deadly vacuum.

It would be what he truly deserved…not a new chance in a foreign tropical land. Nearly unbidden, magic curled around his fingers like heat rising off a road.

Suddenly, his vision blurred from an unexpected pain exploding in his chest. William moved, limbs flailing as the pain made his muscles seize up. Wet dirt broke underneath him, and the former Chandryaan felt himself slide, toppling towards the churning waves.

As he fell, William quite suddenly realized he’d rather not die.

Just as he was sure he could feel the icy water, light exploded around him. Like he was looking up at the bright spring sun.

William’s last thought before his consciousness mercifully winked out was that maybe he could find peace again in this foreign land…

Learning To Live Again
By Calliope Rannis

Nyssa used to love sitting out at the edge of the coastal cliffs of her home. Looking out over the sea, feeling the breeze on her face, smelling the salt in the air. Now, on the cliffs of a new continent far from home, that pleasure was impossible to recapture. She wouldn’t let herself within 30 feet of the cliff’s edge, too scared of what her thoughts would tempt her to do. Her numbed face could barely sense the breeze. But the air still smelt salty, at least.

“Oi.” A hand touched her shoulder. Nyssa jerked her head to the side, a few sparks spitting from her body in surprise. Beside her was the craggy tavern’s innkeeper, holding a plate in callused hands. “Yer need’ta eat.” She placed the plate beside the gnome, who looked down to see a couple of bread rolls, torn open and lightly buttered.

Nyssa stammered. “I…I can’t really-”

“Yeah yer a cheapskate, I know. But yer haven’t eaten a single thing since’ya got off that ship. Like yer forgot how or summit.”

Had she really? Nyssa hadn’t noticed. The three days since her arrival at Edgewin had blown by like dust in the wind.

“…Anyhow. This is on me.” The innkeeper turned and strode off, shouting “I’ll need the plate back when yer done!” as she left.

Nyssa kept staring at the plate. The food on the ship had been awful, but she had deserved that. But this was…kindness. Something that actually looked enjoyable, given to someone who…shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy it. Not after everything she had done.

But the more she looked at the food, the more her insides gnawed, until eventually she stuffed one into her mouth. The bread was soft, so soft, and the butter was warm and flavoursome. Her numb fingers and skin couldn’t feel the world around them anymore, not really. But her nose and tongue, they still could. There was still a connection to the world and her, an anchor she could cling to.

Maybe, just maybe, she still belonged in this world after all.