Hello, Mad Scientists and Influencers!
You’re taking quite a leap of faith, hm? Experiments like this don’t always end well, you know. You took all the precautions, I trust? You remembered the rubber gloves? Then the time has come to see if this works, because…
This week’s Writing Group prompt is:
We’ve Created a Monster
RULES AND GUIDELINES BELOW!
Make sure you scroll down and read them if you haven’t! You may not be eligible if you don’t!
We’re all familiar with the notion of monster creating, sure. Who hasn’t heard of Frankenstein, after all? But if we really think about this, it can go a lot deeper than simply sewing some limbs together and zapping the final product with some electricity.
We have to look at the “monster” in this. This could refer to a child learning a new word, and then using that word for every little thing. For example, maybe the child once broke their leg, and from there on, everything that hurt was broken. Perhaps the monster in question is an artist who has been given a new tool to work with, and the artist has since created so much that their hands hurt. Yet this doesn’t stop them from continuing to create work after work. Maybe the monster isn’t a person at all, but a revolutionary new game that has taken the world by storm, surpassing all before it in both popularity and sales. Maybe it’s as simple as someone showing their younger siblings a cool new song… and then those siblings also learn what a repeat button is, much to their mother’s bemusement.
The monster could even be literal, if that’s the route you choose. Perhaps an archeological team delves deep into a ruined temple of a deity for some legendary treasure. But upon taking the treasure from its display, the deity descends upon them as a furious, twisted version of themselves. Maybe some scientists have come up with some new serum for repairing hair growth, only to find out the serum turns their customers into werewolves. Or a small group of mages decide to try some newly invented magic on an ent, only for the magic to change it into some fiery beast.
The possibilities are endless with a prompt like this. The monster in question can be good, or it can be bad. This isn’t just about exploring what the monster is, but also what circumstances brought it about in the first place.
So fly, my pretties! Fly, and show the world what beautiful creations you can bring forth!
—Shawna
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Remember, this is part of our weekly Writing Group stream! Submit a little piece following the rules and guidelines below, and there’s a chance your entry will be read live on stream! In addition, we’ll discuss it for a minute and give you some feedback.
Tune into the stream this Saturday at 7:00pm CST to see if you made the cut!
The whole purpose of this is to show off the creativity of the community, while also helping each other to become better writers. Lean into that spirit, and get ready to help each other improve their confidence in their writing, as well as their skill with their craft!
Rules and Guidelines
We read at least four stories during each stream, two of which come from the public post, and two of which come from the much smaller private post. Submissions are randomly selected by a bot, but likes on your post will improve your chances of selection, so be sure to share your submission on social media!
Text and Formatting
- English only.
- Prose only, no poetry or lyrics.
- Use proper spelling, grammar, and syntax.
- Your piece must be between 250-350 words (you can use this website to see your wordcount).
- Use two paragraph breaks between each paragraph so that they have a proper space between them (press “enter” or “return” twice).
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What to Submit
- Keep submissions “safe-for-work”; be sparing with sexuality, violence, and profanity.
- Try to focus on making your submission a single meaningful moment rather than an entire story.
- Write something brand new; no re-submitting past entries or pieces written for other purposes
- No fan fiction whatsoever. Take inspiration from whatever you’d like, but be transformative and creative with it. By submitting, you also agree that your piece does not infringe on any existing copyrights or trademarks, and you have full license to use it.
- Submissions must be self-contained (everything essential to understanding the piece is contained within the context of the piece itself—no mandatory reading outside the piece required. e.g., if you want to write two different pieces in the same setting or larger narrative, you cannot rely on information from one piece to fill in for the other—they must both give that context independently).
Submission Rules
- One submission per participant.
- Submit your entry in a comment on this post.
- Submissions close at 12:00pm CST each Friday.
- You must like and leave a review on two other submissions to be eligible. Your reviews must be at least 50 words long, and must be left directly on the submission you are reviewing, not on another comment. If you’re submitting to the private post, feel free to leave these reviews on either the private or the public post. The two submissions you like need not be the same as the submissions you review.
- Be constructive and uplifting. These submissions are not for a professional market, and shouldn’t be treated as such. We do this, first and foremost, for the joy of the craft. Help other writers to feel like their work is valuable, and be considerate and gentle with critique when you offer it. Authors who leave particularly abrasive or disheartening remarks on this post will be disqualified from selection for readings.
- Use the same e-mail for your posts, reviews, and likes, or you may be rendered ineligible (you may change your username or author name between posts without problem, however).
- You may submit to either or both the public/private groups if you have access, but if you decide to submit to both, only the private group submission will be eligible.
- Understand that by submitting here, you are giving us permission to read your submission aloud live on stream and upload public, archived recordings of said stream to our social media platforms. You will always be credited, but only by the author name you supply as per these rules. No other links or attributions are guaranteed.
Comments on this post that aren’t submissions will be deleted, except for replies/reviews left on existing submissions.
[Removed]
Chronicles of The Dragon(The Bad End): The Consequences of Your Actions
By Makokam
Scribe looked at Jostica, who was silently fuming and clearly on the verge of losing it, then back to the Generals sitting across the room from them.
She closed her eyes and let out a long breath, trying to find a way to, respectfully, give her opinion on the situation.
“So what you’re telling us is that you reversed a policy that had been working for years, and went ahead with this plan of yours, and that not only did it get a bunch of A-rank and B-rank heroes killed, but we lost all the Omega-rank heroes too. And now you’re asking us to try and clean up the mess.”
There was some shifting in their seats and shuffling of papers before one said, “That about sums it up, yes.”
“No.”
“What?”
“No! We didn’t want any part of this in the first place and we’re sure as hell not interested in trying to clean up this shit storm. You made this monster and you’ll have to deal with it yourselves.” She turned and tapped Jostica on the arm, “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”
Jostica looked like she was about to say something, then snapped her mouth shut, nodded, and turned. They walked a few steps before one of the Generals shouted after them, “He’ll kill you too! If he keeps going like this.”
Jostica went rigid for a moment, then turned back to them, hand clenching around her staff. She raised a hand and started the motions for a spell, but Scribe stopped her.
“Maybe,” Scribe said, “But he’ll kill you first.” Then to Jostica, “They’re dead men already. Don’t get their blood on your hands.”
“It’d make me feel better.”
“Why don’t we go get ice cream instead? While there’s still ice cream to have.”
Jostica stretched her neck, rolled her shoulders, and took a breath. “You should pray he doesn’t know this is your fault when he finds you. Your deaths might be quick.” Then she turned, ripped open a hole in space, she and Scribe stepped through, and she slammed it shut.
“Koi”
By Arith_Winterfell (with editing ideas from Calliope Rannis and Lunabear)
The plump alien creature that looked surprisingly like an oversized koi goldfish drifted through the air about the room, slowly bumping into random objects.
“So, now what do we do with it?” Jack asked.
Melanie shrugged. “We could keep it as a pet, I suppose.”
“I don’t know . . . it seems more intelligent than its size and form would suggest.”
“Ouchie,” the koi creature murmured as it used its pectoral fins to push itself back after it bumped into a cabinet.
“See,” Jack pointed at it, “it’s even starting to figure out our language.”
“All it said was ouch, Jack,” Melanie deadpanned.
“I can’t believe you smuggled on board an intelligent alien creature as a pet,” Jack shot back.
“It’s harmless,” Melanie replied.
“Chewy!” the koi creature cried out in seeming delight. “Chewy root!” The koi creature had been nudging through the potted plant soil and had managed to dig up one of the plant’s roots, toothlessly yet noisily chewing on the root at the volume of celery.
“Crap. It’s getting into the plant!” Jack shouted.
Spooked, the koi creature shot away from the plant with surprising grace and speed as it shot across the room into the kitchen, followed by a loud crash of a plate hitting the floor.
“Good grief, it’s making a mess of everything,” Jack said as he rushed to the kitchen.
Melanie chased after him, only to find a shattered plate on the floor, with the koi like creature hiding in a cabinet while peeking out at them. “Crap, crap, crap,” the creature babbled in mimicry of Jack’s earlier shout.
“See? It’s already learning how to talk about things,” Jack said, pointing at it.
“Relax. Just calm down,” Melanie said, “It’s just acting like a parrot. It’s just repeating what you said.” Even as she said this, the creature darted into their bedroom.
The couple raced after it again, only to find it half buried under the covers of their bed. The koi creature murmured, “Home. Warm.” Both of the humans just stood there blinking at it.
The Ruins of Good Intentions (Corespace Universe)
By Calliope Rannis
The Head of Expeditions took a deep breath. “Why?”
The elderly man that sat below bowed his head. “I…we…felt pity for them, Sar Branlow.”
“Pity.” Branlow repeated coldly. “Every single one of your team was taught again and again to prioritise preservation and non-interference over all else. What reason could you possibly have for forgetting the most core tenant of all your training, let alone both HTC and Intergalactic Law?”
“You have to understand, we lost control-”
“No. You didn’t ‘lose control’. This is not an accident your team fell into. This was a series of individual decisions you all chose to make.” Anger crept into Branlow’s voice. “You all had control. You just refused to use it when it mattered most!”
“Their shells…” The old man was weeping now. “Their shells were…cracking. They had so much intelligence, so much emotion and empathy…but when they grew old, their protective shells would stiffen and break. The poor creatures couldn’t heal, couldn’t fix themselves up. They would just slowly die of blood loss. Their life cycle was too cruel for us to stand!”
“And so, you helped them.” Branlow bluntly said.
“…Yes.”
“By giving them access to your ship’s medical technology, and teaching them how to use it.”
“We just gave them what they needed-”
“Shut up.”
The old man fell silent.
“You chose to ignore every parameter we had, to ‘help’ these simple creatures from a plight that was not yours to fix.” They fixed their burning glare directly upon the man. “Now, a mere seventy years later? Those creatures snowballed in development, overpopulated their planet, massively extended their lifespan beyond their biological limits, and reverse-engineered everything you gave them so extensively that they now have functioning spaceflight.”
Branlow stood up. “They are expanding now. Invading other untouched worlds, exploiting their resources, killing or enslaving their natives. They now pose a serious threat to our colonies in the sector, and any military attempt to drive them back will likely result in significant loss of human life. This is what your ignorant charity has inflicted upon us all!”
Living Under Murphy’s Law
By refreshing firecrumb
Words cannot express how terribly sorry I am for what I’ve unleashed upon this world.
Please understand that I’m not asking for forgiveness with this act. I understand fully that my transgressions are unforgivable, and some might say I’m avoiding punishment by doing this. I simply wish to explain the situation as a whole, without prejudice or bias.
Our motivations, put simply, were as follows:
Around three years ago, we had discovered a concrete way to confirm the existence of God. I won’t get into how, but we found nothing. And, for whatever reason, we just couldn’t accept that fact.
And so, as project overseer, I authorized the creation of a God to fill the hole in the universe.
This was my greatest mistake.
…
Truthfully, I don’t have much information on the creature we created. We knew the dangers of what we were doing, and so I was left in the dark on a majority of the information to mitigate the concerns of memetic agents and infohazards that would otherwise infect me. To some, this may be seen as a bad decision, but it prevented several disasters and security breaches that would have levelled my team outright. Unfortunately, most of them are now dead or in critical conditions, with what few remaining now struggling to keep our abomination contained in a cage that might as well have been made from paper clips and held together with gum and duct tape.
But what I do know with certainty are two things: We can’t kill it, and it’s getting stronger.
I was not spared from the creature’s attacks. Physically, I’ve only sustained a few scratches, as well as a large gash across my stomach. But… I can feel it behind my eyes. Watching me write the words on this paper. Listening to all my worries. Digging deeper into my mind. And I’m stopping it before it takes over.
For Caroline:
I apologize that I wasn’t there for you and the kids. I hope you may find yourself able to forgive me in the next life. I love you.
Goodbye.
Sweet Monster
By MysteryElement (also in private)
What’s the harm? That was an easy response to make so many years ago. It had been such a small thing, simple and harmless, which over the course of time had repeated and compounded until this moment of realization.
“Can you believe this guy!?” Sasha had slammed the front door empathically before finding me in the kitchen. It had been a quiet afternoon, a cup of coffee and a nice book as I basked in the freshly cleaned brilliance of the kitchen, until her arrival.
“What happened?”
I had kept my voice calm and concerned, despite my mild annoyance at the interruption, and watched as her every move expressed her annoyance. She had not been rambunctious or wild, but there were subtle things; how hard she slammed the cupboard door, how sharply she turned corners, the quality of her sigh, which all gave away her mood with such clarity it might as well have been lit up in neon.
“Brian happened.” she replied, sitting with certain determination onto the stool across from me, her own cup of coffee in her hands. “I thought he was sensitive, like, a good listener. I thought he actually listened to me.” She paused long enough to take a brisk sip. “Blesses and splashes! That’s hot. Okay, so he picked me up, said we could go out for valentines day or whatever, and we had a really nice time. But then, he drives me home, turns to me and says ‘I know you like chocolate, so I got you this’ and you know what it was?”
“I don’t know, wha…”
“It was effing HERSHEYS! This cheese-for-brains nerf-herder got me hershey kisses, the cheapest, blandest, most…” and the tirade continued.
In the blink of an eye my mind was cast back to all of those times we gave her expensive chocolates as a kid. Her own allowance spent on a hobby of extravagant chocolates and writing ‘tasting journals’. Little harmless moments all came rushing back in a heartbeat, and a small worried voice in the back of my mind asked timidly.
“What have I done?”
We’ve Created a Monster
By Chengir
Ralph Miller sat at his desk. City hall had recently changed to an open office plan, so the area was quite noisy as people flittered about answering phone calls and carrying papers. The hard marble floors and the high ceiling made every footstep echo off the walls. Big art deco light fixtures hung from the ceiling, washing the room in a harsh light. Every once in a while, Ralph noticed a man in an all-black uniform moving around the desks, but he didn’t recognize him. Several times he attempted to introduce himself, but by the time he’s gotten to the area, the man was nowhere to be seen.
His chair squeaked as he leaned back. “Hey, Janet, do you know who Goffman is?”
“Can’t say I do.”
“I saw a lawn sign in my neighborhood this morning. It read Goffman for President.”
“It’s not a presidential election year,” Janet answered.
“And who’s the guy wearing all black?”
She glowered at him. “Black?”
“Looks like a military uniform, no insignia. Black jacket and pants, black shirt. He even has a black tie.”
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him. Why?”
“Never mind.” Ralph went back to pounding on his keyboard, writing the announcement for the next all-city council meeting.
That night, on the drive home, Ralph noticed about twenty more “Goffman for President” signs had popped up all over the neighborhood.
The next morning, Ralph was awakened early by the sound of someone pounding away with a hammer. It was five-thirty in the morning. Slipping on a bathrobe, he found out who it was.
Opening the door, he saw two men in all-black uniforms hammering in a “Goffman for President” sign on his lawn.
“Hey, get that sign off my lawn.”
“But you’re the only one in the neighborhood without one,” one of them replied.
“I don’t care, get it off my yard. I don’t even know who Goffman is.”
Two men in black uniforms appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Ralph by the arms. “We’re here to take care of that too.”
Like MOTHER, Like Son
By Karl Aegnor (CW: violence, brutality)
Dr. Pagani sat in his compound, remotely conferencing with faceless individuals from around the world. It was forbidden for him or anyone else in this meeting to reveal their identities, for the safety of the organization. For the safety of MOTHER.
Safety. It was an illusion getting harder and harder to maintain, these days. But that was exactly what they were to discuss. Thirteen stood in clear view on the screen. As one of The Brothers, he had no identity to hide. Upon prompting, he began his report.
“He had cleared the facility. All personnel terminated. Twelve’s handiwork, if I’ve ever seen it.”
“That will do, Thirteen.” An imperious voice said. “Dismissed.” After The Brother left, it continued. “We all understand the trouble Twelve poses. We assume several of the individuals found dead were members of MOTHER. If their involvement is disco-” The voice was cut short as three bullets ripped through Pagani’s computer.
Turning around, Pagani saw a young man with military-cut hair, dressed for stealth. He had a pistol in hand and a sleek blade sheathed across his back. The doctor fumbled for the gun on his desk, but it was slapped away with superhuman dexterity. Pagani felt the tip of Twelve’s blade on his face. When had he drawn that?
Terrified, Pagani stammered. “P-Please, think rationally! Whatever fulfillment you’re seeking, this isn’t how you get it.”
The Brother’s steely eyes awoke. “Fulfillment? I was trained to kill without passion. Kill because someone tugged my leash and gave the word.” He kicked the doctor’s legs out from under him, knocking him to the floor. “MOTHER raised me to be efficient, to follow master’s commands like a good dog.” Twelve stepped on Pagani’s sternum with all his weight, crushing his ribs as he placed his blade across the doctor’s neck. “The only fulfillment I ever sought was the mission’s. Fetch the stick. Terminate the target.” Twelve bent down, practically whispering to Pagani. “Not much has changed. There is no fulfillment I seek. Only the mission matters. I terminate who I must. But now, I’m the one holding the leash.”
Practical prankster (Copy from Private group)
By Larissa (Lari B. Haven)
“Quit the silly games, Haven; you are a grown woman.” Jack groaned as she popped the water balloon on his head and escaped from the study room.
“Never!” she shouted, teleporting to the bottom of the staircase, still on the run.
He didn’t even give chase to her. Haven knew Jack was tired of her unruliness.
He stormed inside the room, sat down on the sofa and took a deep breath.
She teleported behind the sofa, and as soon as she stretched her arms… He caught her by the shoulders, rolled off the sofa, and pinned her to the ground.
“I lent the scrolls with the advanced spells for you to study.” He confronted her, holding her by the wrists. “Not to fool around!”
She laughed in response.
“You waste your talents acting like an infant for no good reason!”
“Have you ever had fun in your life?” She rolled her eyes.
“That’s not a proper response.” He sighed. “You clearly can learn a difficult spell within a month. Why the insistence on using it, to enrage me with childish pranks?”
“Well, that’s exactly the point. You gave me too much power, Jack!” She bit her lip, taking pride in watching him all flustered. “Why not use it for pranks?”
“Perhaps I should stop enabling you.” He let her go and sat on the sofa again. “But If I stop, you would never learn the spells or new ways to annoy me with them.”
Teasing was never the most mature thing she could ever come up to. But it was one of the few ways she had to break his sternness. At some point, he would have to call it quits and express his true feelings.
Before she got out of the office, she threw him a devious smile.
“This means I should annoy you more often?”
He immediately cut her off: “No, this is clearly not what I said.”
Next month, she will learn how to fly.
Cruelty
Sarah J. Herbison
Cruelty was created when we turned our backs. We gave the monster anything it wanted to stop its cries, so we could enjoy the silence. When the little girl came to us with a scraped knee and a black eye, we rolled our eyes. Children will be children, after all. The creature screamed at a homeless man to get a job, not knowing he had lost his the previous month. It found a home on the web and twisted the truth for the common man.
Cruelty is the beast we create to keep us distant and ignorant, safe even. It has been with us since the dawn of nature. But beware, this monster can turn on any one of us in the blink of an eye.
Imagine yourself sleeping on the cold pavement as a stranger kicks you. Is your job so secure? Or the person in a war-torn country, walls being ripped from you as another bomb falls, dodging bullets on a daily basis. As the woman who hears disgusting things screamed on the street, just for walking home at night. You can either be part of this beast or you can defeat the monster.
First, it appears subtly, in-jokes or passing comments, this is the best time to kill the beast before cruelty grows and takes over.
Kindness can always fight cruelty, but when defeated, the beast always returns for another bite.
Shadow and Reflection
By Adrian Solorio
Madison stormed into her dim room and slammed the door so hard the windows rattled and the walls shook. Stupid fat cow. Worthless idiot. The blood pounded behind her eyes as her older brother’s words danced in her head. Why did her parents have to leave them home alone? She’d told them he picked on her worse than the kids at school and they didn’t even care? Nobody cared. Collapsing into a pitiful heap of sobs and tears Madison wished her brother would die.
From out of the darkness a slithering voice read her thoughts and asked aloud. “She wishes him gone?”
Was she hearing things? Frozen in fear, too afraid to even turn on the light, Madison peered into the dark. A pile of clothes lay half out of the closet and the blankets on the bed were unmade. On the nightstand the digital clock numbers shone green. Then, in the mirror across from where she sat, Madison watched in horror as a dark shape appeared.
The shadow pointed at her and said, “Yes, she knows what she wants.” Madison’s head throbbed painfully at the sound of the voice and she covered her ears. It had to be a nightmare. But the shadow stepped out of the mirror and into the room. For a moment it stood and took in its surroundings before walking swiftly towards the door. Madison realized that no matter how bad Nick had treated her, he didn’t deserve this thing coming after him. She tried to scream a warning to her brother, but the shadow went past her and a chill swept over her body, taking her breath away, and the last thing she heard before she passed out was Nick screaming in terror.
****
Madison woke up with a sharp pain pulsating through her head and wrist. The room was bright and cold. “Can you take these off–please?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, Madison.” The officer stared at her with sad eyes.“We won’t be taking those handcuffs off until you tell us what really happened to Nick. No more stories about shadows, okay?”
Soldier 670
By tryman159
‘Where….where am I?’ John attempted to say, not hearing his own voice or anything.
A thick veil of darkness blinded him. Moving didn’t change it, and to his horror, he could feel his hands moving but no other sensation. Nothing.
‘What happened?’ he thought.
‘I don’t remember,’ his mind answered.
He tried to speak again, but couldn’t feel anything to move when he tried. No muscle movement, nothing. How could they be gone?
Fear pulsed through his mind. He tried again to move, only to feel pain slowly rising where his mouth should have been. ”What?” he wondered before it came back stronger. His mind now raced as it received signals from all around his body. His head drummed like a marching band, making all thought impossible. Convulsions rose from his torso and neck, and he fell into unconsciousness.
He awoke once more, the dark veil still in front of his vision.
‘Where…where am I?’ his mind repeated. ”What happened?” His shock had him at the mercy of his faulty memory.
‘I…I felt pain? Everywhere was pain? How?’ his mind asked.
”I don’t know, soldier! But a piece of shit like you doesn’t deserve this bed! This is U.S marine property. Get your ass up and move!” ordered a too familiar voice echoing in his mind.
‘Yes, sergeant major!’ He tried to salute the sergeant who was somewhere in this hollow room. He felt himself roll to the side, and a heavy blow hit his upper torso as he fell a short distance.
”Wha…!?” He wondered in horror. ”Sergeant…I can’t feel my legs.” He thought as his hands went to feel for them but found nothing. It seemed as though his legs were missing.
”I said to get up, Snow White!” Yelled the voice. ”Or Prince Charming will come and kick you to move!”
”Sir, yes sir!” As he tried, he felt a pressure upon his ass and back. Something was lifting him back into the bed. After a few seconds, another small pressure was applied to his forehead. Warmth. It felt warm. Rising his head, he saw nothing.
October 10th, 2004.
Southern Lab, entry 4
By JellyRelic
It’s been five days since Specimen fourteen was found mutilated at it’s containment cell, and Specimen eight appears to be missing.
Its picking us off one by one, day after day. Nothing we do seems to work, it just slithers away. We don’t even know why this happened.
The best we can come up with for this kind of behavior would be the vaccine shot we gave it, and it somehow mutated, but I have my doubts. It couldn’t have been the shot, I saw it the day after we vaccinated it, when I passed by the containment cells.
No one can find it. Not even the security. They’ve searched everywhere but nothing came up from it. It feels like it’s always right behind us, playing with us like we’re all some sort of sick, twisted toy.
There are only three of us left. Angie, Matt and I. Matt keeps saying we’re all going to die, and if I’m being honest, I’m starting to believe him.
Angie had this idea of getting out, but the ones brave enough to try that again, we’re going to die, much like the past few idiots who tried.
If I hear one more word from her about how we’re getting out of here, I don’t know what I’ll do. Those are simply empty words of a childish dream to even think of getting out of here.
Sometimes, I swear I can even hear it crawling around in the vents above us. Andrew thought it was smart to crawl into the air ducts yesterday to exterminate it. It sounded like he got partway in there before we heard a gut-wrenching screech.
With each member lose, I lose a part of my remaining hope to escape. Angie keeps preaching about how she’ll kill it, but with everything we’ve tried, I can’t but wish to believe her.
Soon, I’m going to lose my mind if I haven’t already. It’s gonna kill us all. It’s only a matter of time.
I have not gotten that far
By Cheapdoc
Tredeus’ fingers had turned like a clock around his temples for the last five minutes, and his eyes had become two shut windows that contemplated the ingenuity and stupidity of human magic.
“I have so many questions, not the least of which is why.” Tredeus said while he choked down his frustration.
Meanwhile Elden’s fingers were involved in a different type of clockwork, one that reduced the natural world into mere pieces to be fitted with surgical precision. His otherwise grim and bloody project transformed into light and thought to be assembled.
“Whatever do you mean, my friend?” Elden asked, his eyes fixed and unblinking in the still shapeless light.
“Why did you think it was a good idea to make a shark-weasel!” Tredeus demanded.
“Two reasons.” Elden answered. “First, the winter has rinsed this area of food for the local weasel population. I am giving them a way to better access sources of nutrition and making them amphibian.”
A pause that turned seconds into hours forced Tredeus to ask. “And the second reason?”
“Quite honestly I have not gotten that far.” Elden admitted.
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should Elden.” Tredeus growled through clenched teeth.
“I disagree. We are wizards, it is our duty to look at nature square in the eye and tell it how mistaken it was for not giving weasels the regrowing teeth of a shark.” Elden retorted.
“That’d be a fair answer if this was your first chimeric abomination, what does this make, the fifth?”
“Sixth.”
Tredeus arched his eyebrows. “How do you still have a casting license?”
Elden’s hands came to a halt as the weasel-shark hybrid transitioned from thought to life. It’s beady eyes looked around the room confused. Instinctually, it sought the warmth of its creator. Elden petted the creature, which resembled an otter with saw-like teeth.
“Because my friend, even if life does not care about it’s little monsters, I do.”
The Girl on the Rock
By Occultic;Z
“You weren’t supposed to do that.” The little girl giggled as she sat on the stone table with her knees to her chest. She wasn’t there before all the rumbling had started… Where could she have come from?
“Wh-who are you?” my voice called out, quivering. I took in a deep breath through my nose and found the strong scent of sulfur and smoke lingered in the air. At first, I thought it was a reaction caused by the ritual, but it had become so overwhelming that I realised it wasn’t just that. A strong sense of heat came from around me.
The girl’s hair was long and ashen. She jumped excitedly from the blood-covered stone and ran to the top of the steps that lay between the two of us.
“I’m Sophicus. I brought you your wish.” She gave another giggle and smiled widely. At these words, the reality of the situation set in. As I looked around, I found the land now plagued with fire and death. In the distance, I could see creatures of horrific descriptions ravaging the land.
“You knew what you were doing, right?” she asked. No. No, I did not. Another sensation ran through the ground, one that felt like an intense earthquake. Sophicus seemed to find enjoyment from this.
“Why else did you think everyone else was so hellbent on stopping you from raising the dead?”
“Maria. Where is she?” I exclaimed. “Where’s my beloved Maria?”
“Don’t be so self-centred. That lady isn’t your Maria. She’s ours.”
“No. You said I raised the dead. That means she’s back, right?” I pleaded with the young girl. I had not lost myself down the path of dark rituals for nothing. I knew it was one of self-destruction, but I made my choice those three years ago.
“You did. Little Maria is right here.” With those words, the hellish child before me morphed herself into a new shape, the shape of the daughter I had lost all those years ago.
“Now,” she said softly in my daughter’s form with a smile, “let the end times begin.”
The Red Areia (Sword Isles)
By Connor A.
(CW: Mentions of blood and death)
Death’s scythe was stained to the point where its original color was lost, but she still wiped it down as much as she could. The smell of war wafted over the battlefield in a way no one could ignore unless they were focused on surviving another battle. But it was hers to carry. So she watched as yet another white cloth turned dark red and tossed it among the bodies surrounding her rock when it only spread it around. She found the cleanest cloth she could find, tore off a piece, and resumed just as two figures appeared.
“This is all because we allowed the human age to start!” A deep voice shook through Death’s bones. Only one being could cause the kind of fear that enveloped her. She looked up and saw the imposing figure of Oberon talking to the shorter Old Mother Winter.
“Who is to say the humans would have completely avoided the land if they never settled?” Mother Winter asked.
“They would not have roots here!” Oberon shouted. A sadness brought his voice down. “And Aileen would not have grown attached to them…”
“Lady Aileen still would have died eventually.”
The hatred in Oberon’s voice returned. “But that thing would not be using her remains.”
Death set her scythe across her lap and worked off one of her armored gloves. Bones as red as her blade stared back up at her, shaking as the words replayed in her mind. She put the glove back on and looked towards the horizon. A tall statue of the dust god looked like an odd mountain from where she was.
She would destroy it. And the city it belongs to. Maybe that would help her gain Oberon’s trust and put an end to this war.
Death put her helmet back on and stood up. A loud, mournful wail escaped from her, which got the attention of the two gods. But she had no time to talk to them.
She had a city to claim.
Fear For a Monster (A Tiefling Tale)
C. M. Weller
Good news: the Earl’s firstborn was a son, just like he wanted. Hale and hearty. The bad news was that the Earl was going to blame her for this. He was a rigid man with unbending determination. Usually a good thing in the ruling class. Emmalaina could not currently think of him as ‘her husband’ or, ‘her love’. He was now… her threat. All because of what his heir was.
Earl Valiant had the kind of determination to bend the world to his will, and the kind of temper to punish those who couldn’t make his will into reality. Therefore, he would be furious when he found out that his vow to never be part of the Whitekeep curse… had been broken.
The curse had come to pass, and landed on the heir to the Blood Throne. The ninth such child in the lineage of Whitekeep, a blip in the parade of Earls named for virtues. This child had a name from tradition. Kormwind Arachis Felbourne Whitekeep. The next Demon Lord.
Emmalaina could not fathom what made him so threatening. Swaddled and sleeping, he was just like any other baby. He wasn’t doing much at all. The horns would grow out later, they said. Thank goodness.
Any minute now, Earl Valiant would find out. He would be angry. He would blame her. Accuse her of causing the curse to land. He would want a test. At least that would be easy. Just set the child on the Blood Throne’s seat and see how the alleged heir made its gemstone shine. Blood red for the ruler, paler shades for the heirs. White for the bastards. He would be angrier still when this little boy proved himself to be trueborn.
Which was why she couldn’t sleep, even now. She couldn’t help but fret over her son’s fate. They said the Earl couldn’t cause harm to any of his Tiefling get, but… She held Kormwind close, guarding him against a cruel world with what little she had.
Between one blink and the next, Valiant loomed. “What did you DO, Em?”
The creature clambered down from the webbed up man, spinneret tipped tendrils wrapping around its midsection, and clicked its mandibles. Though it was just insect like clicking Tabitha understood what it meant, “It is done master, what more would you wish of me?”
Tabitha fell against the wall at her back, and slid to the ground. Her breathing was heavy and she felt weak, not just from the shock of this…things appearance, and seeming obedience, but also from the fact that it had spun itself from her own flesh. She felt reduced, as if she hadn’t eaten in days.
Before Tabitha could say anything she heard the voice of Sindra Hasiphere echo through her head, furiously,” Tabitha what Have you done!?”
Tabitha thought in response,” I just thought ‘I need help’ and then…”, she gestured to the creature still bewildered at everything that had just happened.
“God damn it”, Said Sindra exasperation evident in her voice,” without me to hold your powers in check subconsciously you must be accessing all of them much faster than is safe. Congratulations Tabitha, you just created life, are you ready for the responsibility of being a God?”
“N-no!”, said Tabitha her head reeling from the realization.
“Okay then, here’s what you need to do”, Sindra’s tone fell,” kill it and then eat it.”
“What!”, Tabitha said aloud shocked at what Sindra just proposed.
“What you have just invoked is the highest of my powers, the ability to craft new life from my own flesh, do to much and it leaves you weakened, and what you create is loyal to a fault. It will obey your orders mindlessly and without cease even if you don’t mean the orders you say aloud. That, thing is more of a liability to us than a boon.”
“But I can’t just kill it!”, Tabitha looked again at the creatures black beady eyes, despite its chimerical form she couldn’t help but feel a kind of pride at what she created.
“Than don’t, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when it does something you regret”, and Sindra spoke no more.
I Plead the Fifth
By Marx
“Can I… ask you a personal question?”
Death turned to face Matt, seemingly deep in thought, before nodding. “You may, my Beloved.”
Matt’s voice caught for a second at the name. He and Death only had maybe two… three conversations. Apparently, when Death says you’re “destined”, she wastes no time with pet names. “Um… are you actually a girl or does your form change with whoever sees you?”
Death paused before her lips slowly curled into an amused smirk. “I see. You believe I change myself for your benefit. My dear boy. Time itself didn’t exist until I was born. I am older than humanity, much less Earth. I change myself for no one. You were born to match MY preferences. Not the other way around.”
“Wait…” Matt paused. “So you’re saying that if you were into girls…”
“You would have been born female. Yes.” Death agreed. “To be fair, I care little for the concept of gender. I’m sure it’s more a need of biological compatibility than anything else.”
“Biological comp-?” Matt began before he realized what she’d meant and his mind overheated for a moment.
“Speaking of which… You never answered your half-demon friend’s question about me earlier. Would you indulge my curiosity of what your reply would have been?”
Matt was blushing furiously now as he shook his head. “Not particularly. That kind of question only has one answer which makes answering it at all meaningless.”
Death once again appeared amused, though her smile grew a darker edge. “One answer? You believe you could lie to me in my own domain and I wouldn’t be aware? How… PRESUMPTUOUS of you.”
There were times when Death seemed almost personable, and times when she was downright terrifying. She somehow nailed both simultaneously in that moment. “Y… you’re really hot, okay! You’re a total knockout! Geeze!”
This time, Death was the one who seemed momentarily shocked. “Huh… I believe I’m feeling… vanity? Yes… it’s quite the thrilling sensation, isn’t it? I’m going to need you to be more specific, my Beloved.”
‘Oh no…’ Matt thought, horrified. ‘What have I done?’
Battlefield (Darkspell Universe)
By Alex Nightingale (aka Spectre)
Nothing about the road even remotely resembled a road anymore. The stench of petrol, fire and crypts hung in the air, like a dark cloud. Piles of scrap metal, which had once been cars, were lying around, covered in blood and body parts. Max stood in front of a family SUV, which had been flung into a ditch like yesterday’s trash. He looked at the five bodies inside.
“I’m so sorry,” he muttered and turned away.
“Felix came through here,” Rachel said, examining an arm. “Some of these have tattoos, marking them as Syndicate foot-soldiers.”
“I’m aware.”
Max’s voice was about as cold as the icy air around him. Rachel, a reaper with ginger hair, was watching him.
“You’re still bitter…”
“No. Just tense.”
“You were the one who thought he could control Felix.”
“I didn’t want to control him. I wanted to help him.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe he didn’t want to be helped?”
“Every day.”
“Then why push it? He’s a reaper, like me…”
“I’m well aware of what he is.” Max turned to Rachel.
“Look,” Rachel sighed, “Felix was my friend too. I was hoping he could control his rage just as much as you do.”
“’Was’ your friend?”
“We’ve… drifted apart.” she shook herself. “Look, can we just get on with it? I have important work to do.”
“I’m sure you have.”
Max knelt down, took out a piece of chalk and began to sketch a series of magical, precisely measured circles onto what was left of the asphalt. Reapers weren’t just hands of death. They were hands of destruction as well. And as much as he almost considered Felix a friend… his temper made him dangerous. He had to find him.
“This isn’t our fault, you know,” Rachel blurted out. “I know, you like to blame everything on the proverbial man, but we don’t control Felix.”
“No. You just set him loose.”
“We had no idea this would happen.”
“You showed the guy with the biggest heart the greatest injustices and gave him a gun. What did you think would happen?”
We’ve Created a Monster
By RVMPLSTLTSKN (Saga of the Deep One’s Wake)
Klajonas remembered the trek vaguely. She had decided to go home, for only her father could help her. The wounds in her chest still ached deeply, still seeped red. She started to think she could smell the wound, a sharp scent like vinegar and sea.
She remembered the unfamiliar people, their bodies pale against the sky, their words like her own, but prettier somehow. Vyras, Sesuo, Brolis.
Klajonas did not remember the drink. It was opaque and reminded her of clamshells and sunsets.
“Drink,” Vyras said again.
She did. He didn’t give her much choice though. Drink or be covered in it. It tasted somewhat like the hard apples she’d found once. Hard and sharp, sour.
“Give her another?” Brolis said.
“No.” Sesuo.
“I don’t know, sis. I’ve seen Brolis on two mugs of the Up.”
“Shit could wake the dead!” Brolis.
“Could make her tear open her wound too.”
Klajonas felt cold hands on her skin. “How are you feeling? Warmer?”
“Yesh,” Klajonas said, her voice a painful growl. Her eyes watered from it.
It was true though, she did feel warmer.
“Great, home? To da’?” Brolis said. His inflection was flat and Klajonas wondered if he ever really asked anything.
In her state, she couldn’t refuse them. She wasn’t sure she could walk and that gave a pain beyond the physical. The other two frowned at her.
“What do you think, sis?” Vyras asked.
Sesuo felt her brow and cheeks. Her fingers prodded Klajonas’s wound—now a numb hole in her senses—and frowned at the seep.
“Sesuo?” He asked again.
“What is your name?” She asked.
“Klajonas.”
“Can you walk?”
Klajonas tried to speak but just gurgled, her throat hot.
“Give her another one,” Sesuo said.
“Are you sure?” Vyras asked, but he was already pouring the frothy liquid into his mug.
“Yes, she’ll have to deal with the withdrawals later.” Sesuo stood, “Da’ will know what to do.”
A Creation that Shouldn’t Have Been
by Lunabear (CW: blood and violence) (Private Repost)
WARNING! CONTAINMENT BREACH IN SECTOR 3V4! EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY!
The blaring siren nearly swallowed the automated female voice. Red, strobing light sliced through the thick smokescreen like a laser through human tissue.
Five men shielded by gas masks raced down the grated hall. They came to the open door of a room marked ‘Experiment 490-SW’.
“Where is it?!” Hawkins shouted.
“Damned if I know!” Jarvis hit back, his weapon’s light sweeping the demolished room. “Oh, G-God! I think that’s Cooper’s spine, sir! Next to his head! Under the window…”
Daniels went rigid.
“Last video feed showed it was headed north, toward the bridge. Probably outside.” Captain May surveyed his men and the bastard scientist responsible for the abomination. “Stay sharp, men! It couldn’t have gotten out without a key pass.”
They trekked further down the hall.
“SHE is mostly scared! Those guns aren’t helping!” Hank admonished.
“That THING has taken out twelve of my men, Crawford. Twelve. Good. Men. I don’t plan to lose anymore.”
A loud rattling brought their attention upwards. Glowing blue eyes raked over them from the darkened vent.
“Fire!” May aimed and shot off four luminescent, green pegs.
“Stop!” Hank warned.
His men followed suit. The vent resembled Swiss cheese when the rounds ceased.
They scanned every direction but discovered nothing.
A silhouette bypassed Hank and yanked Daniels back into the clearing smoke.
The soldiers retraced their steps and rushed around a corner.
A trail of blood and body parts led them to the sight of the parasite feasting on Daniels’ chest cavity and intestines. His head was missing.
The soldiers were shocked into silence. At least until May unleashed a barrage of bullets amid anguished screams.
Hawkins and Jarvis joined in, retching sobs emanating from the former and the latter taking in stunted breaths.
The rounds struck but ricocheted within the small space. They dented metal walls
and vaporized cloth and flesh.
A final round took out both Jarvis and Hawkins.
Captain May toppled backwards, his face frozen.
Hank arrived and nearly vomited.
“Starlet…NO.”
Through swimming eyes and bloody fangs, she looked up and smiled.