Writing Group: Stitching Yourself Back Together (PRIVATE)

Sep 27, 2021

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in Community, Private Submissions, Writing Group

Hello, Surgeons and Dollmakers!

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? I know it’s hard, but I’m sure you can do this. Don’t worry, I won’t tell you to pull yourself together. But maybe this time, you can use something stronger than just your hands and some bandaids, because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

Stitching Yourself Back Together

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!

When we hear “stitching”, we think of sewing. Needles and thread. Very simple tools, yet they can do so much. From a tiny repair in a hem line to making an entire garment. So what would it mean to stitch ourselves back together?

Well, stitching is a form of repair here. Stitching ourselves back together means that we were previously broken or had fallen apart in one way or another. Everyone’s heard the phrase “pull yourself together”, but this is looking at what to do once you have reassembled yourself. It looks at finding a way to keep yourself together.

This could be in the form of someone going through a really tough breakup. Their heart is in thousands of pieces, possibly even a piece for each day spent in that relationship. The thread they use to fix themselves could be the words of comfort and care spoken by friends and family, or maybe this thread is made of ice cream. It becomes a question of which thread would hold stronger? Ice cream melts, whereas words can stick with you forever. Maybe this story is about someone facing their fears. Every time they’ve faced it before, they’ve come undone and been too afraid to confront these things. Perhaps their thread is made of videos and articles researching this phobia. Maybe the first stitch wasn’t even done by them, but by someone else who pushed them to face these fears.

Maybe we take this prompt literally; perhaps it’s about a doll, long since forgotten by their human. Their fabric has greyed, their stitching has frayed and weakened. They can stay like that and let time take them, or they can find the sewing kit and repair themselves to prepare for a new owner. Maybe this prompt is simply about a surgeon who had a woopsie with a scalpel and just takes a few minutes to sew up the wound.

Whatever the case may be, we look forward to it. So go forth with your needle and thread, and weave yourself into a tapestry of words unlike any other.

—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 3:00pm 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! Get ready not just to share what you’ve got, but to give back to the other writers here as well.

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).

Include a submission title and an author name (doesn’t have to be your real name). Do not include any additional symbols or flourishes in this part of your submission. Format them exactly as you see in this example, or your submission may not be eligible: Example Submission.

No additional text styling (such as italics or bold text). Do not use asterisks, hyphens, or any other symbol to indicate whether text should be bold, italic, or styled in any other way. CAPS are okay, though.

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.

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53 responses to “Writing Group: Stitching Yourself Back Together (PRIVATE)”

E N Richards

October 17, 2021

The Rich Beggar
By E. N. Richards

In the busy city of aerondale, poverty is common. Such a busy city filled with such deceitful ideas of opportunity it draws thousands each day. Wishing for a better life, these folk come into the city hoping to get jobs and lift their loved ones from the harsh life of poverty. Little do they know, that in cities of “opportunity” riches can be taken just as easily as they were given. No obvious crimes will take it, but those unseen even by the law. Prices and taxes are higher in this city, supporting a life in such a city is how poverty remains common. Hence the deceitful or illusion of the idea of opportunity.

We focus our attention to a woman, new to the city she moved from her province hoping to make a name for herself. From a distinguished family in a simple province, she was filled with the ideas of glory, riches, and power. She hoped moving to Aerondale would be the perfect start for her journey. She began with school; she believed she wanted to become a healer. She attempted to persuade her family to fund her education, her family disagreed. Having been open about her ambitions to “make a name for herself” and the pursuit of “glory, riches, and power” healing did not seem fit for her. They asked her to think it through, but she did not have it. The woman displeased with their answer, manipulated them instead. She slowly drew closer to her mother, attempting to be near her favour, she hoped to have a confidant in her plans. It worked, women do stick together, and the woman tricked her mother to fund their education. Both women persuaded the father, but he refused. The father believed that it was the stubborn attempt of the woman to get what she wanted, and she needed to think her actions through. The women left him alone and began plotting what to do. Hours went by and nothing came of it, then the woman had an idea. What if they made their father believe she managed to fund her education herself? She thought to persuade her mother to secretly fund her education, saying her father would never allow her because he belittled her dream. The mother accepted, ignorant of the woman’s true actions. With her education funded, she set to the city of Aerondale. She began her studies with flying colours. Her marks were almost top class, yet one could never see her perform of practice them in daylight. When the tests came she achieved such high marks, yet when deeds were expected of her one could easily find her in the shopping district wasting the money she had swindled her mother. Having faith in her abilities to graze upon life, she continued the same routine of spending her time and money how she pleased. She would, of course, finish her studies and set about the journey to her goals. Still under the funding of her mother, she sought occupation as a healer. At the time, the city was in dire need of healers. Poverty struck to even the tightest corners, and disease was never far behind. With so many of the sick requiring attention, the city (not to be confused with the government) needed healers. Fortunately for her she was indeed a healer, unfortunately for her the lifestyle she adopted could not be supported by her current occupation. She could not endure to put herself through the horrors of sticking to a budget. Instead, the woman lied to her mother about her education. Fooling her of the idea it had been prolonged, she used this to sustain her lifestyle further. Including her salary from her current occupation, she became more extravagant.

Two years have passed since her occupation, and eventually her mother travelled to Aerondale. She claimed it was to check on her daughter, see her health, check on her life, and her education. She wanted to surprise her, so so she visited her home unannounced. When she arrived, her daughter’s neighbour inquired on her identity. Explaining to them who she was, he happily agreed to help her enter the home. Fortunately, the neighbour had an emergency spare key. This made it easy for the ageing mother to enter a more comfortable environment. When she entered, she noticed a horrendous state. Unkept clothes laying everywhere, dirty plates, a dusty house, and uncleaned rooms. She was disappointed at her daughter for living such an untidy lifestyle, so guilty with responsibility on how her daughter had been acting she decided to clean. While cleaning the house, she began to notice the amount of clothes the daughter had. When she left for her studies, she clearly had less than what she currently had. She also noticed her daughter’s belongings were expensive. She focused on cleaning instead, she thought to herself maybe she finally got a job here and worked for her desires. She tried to keep her doubts away from her. Too focused on cleaning the house, it appeared different than its previous state. Just in time, her daughter appeared to come home with more expensive items. The daughter was surprised to see her mother in her home, and quickly what she brought home. A moot gesture, as she was greeted by her mother. However, she did not give up on the good natured idea of her daughter, so she chose not to notice it. She wanted to keep the idea that she was a mother, so like any mother she asked if her daughter had ate. Her daughter replied with a no, although she had actually brought home expensive food she wanted to try. The daughter was invited to eat, so they could spend time and catch up. The daughter agreed, she suggested a place she had always wanted to try, the same location she has just been from. The mother agreed, and they spent the evening catching up on her studies. The daughter caught up on what she wanted her mother to believe. Experiencing difficulties in certain subjects, she kept failing but persistently pursued the career she believed would bring her happiness. Her mother felt pity and supported her decision. After they finished, her mother asked to stay at her home for the night. She planned to stay for only one day and leave Aerondale in the morning. The daughter reluctantly agreed, with preparations for her stay the mother went to sleep. Confident, the daughter snuck all of her new belongings to her room. For once, the daughter was organised and hid all of her new clothes. The food she planned to eat was thrown away, she had no need for them since they tasted so lacking in the restaurant. Early in the morning , her mother awoke to see her daughter still in bed. She woke her up, like any mother does, and told her to prepare for her leave. An hour later, she set her mother off and the daughter returned to her daily routine. The mother arrived back to her home, greeted by her husband he asked how her trip went. She could not say the truth for he did not know, in reply she said it was fine and claimed to be tired. He insisted and asked how their daughter was, the mother fell silent. She was shocked about his question and wondered if he had realised her hidden motives. Enraged at his wife, the father grew impatient and began monologuing. He explained how he discovered she had been stealing from their personal wealth to fund their daughter’s ignorant dream. For a time, he believed she would do good and his wife would come clean. Years passed with no progress, he grew suspicious and asked a retired acquaintance of his in the army to investigate his daughter. He found out that her daughter has done well for herself, with the money she had been receiving she was barely hard at work for her studies and spent her free time spending it away on expensive garments. That was not all, he found out that she had graduated and the mother still kept providing her funds for her education. He shouted her his wife, asked her to explain her actions. He cried out if she was fool to be tricked by her daughter or if she actually funded her daughters expensive lifestyle. The mother fell silent, guilty and overwhelmed with the revelation, all she wanted was her husband’s comfort and loving affection. Alas, their marriage had been broken, for the husband feeling betrayed no longer loved her. With his wife’s sorrowed expression and silence, he concluded she was not aware of the trickery. The husband left their home and arranged for her wife to be restricted of their wealth. This was not possible as married couples have shares of their wealth, but wealthy families will always get what they desire. After accomplishing his objectives, he went home and arrived to see his wife preparing his favourite dish. He ignored her and left for their room with the door locked. The wife could do nothing and continued with her efforts, hoping it would bring her husband to her side. However, as she attempted to piece together their broken marriage. Their daughter, ignorant of the events, kept her expensive lifestyle unaware of the fact she would no longer receive support. The father’s rage could not be calmed and contained. He was unable to leave their abode, so he slowly grew distant towards his wife. Ever her very image reminded him of his anger, while kept making attempts to repair their relationship. They were moot, for she could not get past the anger that clouded his judgement. Unhappy, they remained in a toxic marriage where they gradually hated each other.

After a month, their daughter went to check her own wealth. She did not see the usual increase, so she went home and attempted to communicate with her mother. No replies to her correspondence, she got worried and travelled to their home. When she arrived home, she was greeted by an arguing couple. Her mother and father argued over something she could not understand. When her father saw her daughter, he grabbed whatever object he could find and threw it at her daughter. Sensible, her daughter dodged and barely succeeded. Unable to contain his anger, he forced both his wife and his daughter out of his house. His wife kneeled and begged him for forgiveness, but he refused. All he saw was insubordination and kicked his wife until she reached the door. In their porch groaning from the pain, the daughter helped her mother to stand up. She asked what happened, and the mother screamed at her daughter. She called her insensitive and ordered her to let her recover from her injuries. The daughter got scared, and backed away from her mother. When she finally recovered her strength, she asked to her daughter if she could stay at her home in Aerondale. Her daughter agreed and travelled back to her home. They arrived late in the evening and chose to rest. The daughter explained to her mother that tomorrow she would go out and look for work. Her mother agreed and asked that she remain in their home to recover from the incidents. Their daughter supported her decision and they rested for the night. Her mother woke up before she did, and she began to enact a plan. Her mother blamed her daughter for ruining her marriage, so she stole her keys to their home. When her daughter woke up, she greeted her with a smiling face and prepared them breakfast. When her daughter left, she arranged her daughter to be banned in their home. The rightful owner of it was the mother, so her planned was completed before the morning ended. When the daughter arrived home from work, she could not find her keys. She ignored it and tried to enter their home but she found a locked door. She tried calling for her mother but failed. She kept calling for her until two guards on their patrol arrived at their house. The guards asked for an explanation, after they were informed they asked entrance to the house. The door was unlocked and they were greeted by the mother. They asked if the daughter lived there, and the mother showed them the papers stating that she is banned from their property. The daughter shouted and refused to believe she could not enter her own home. The guards escorted the daughter away from the property. She asked them what she should do, but they ignored her and proceeded to their patrol. She tried to ask some of her friends to help her, but they kept denying her request. Life in the city was difficult and they barely had enough room to keep themselves. Whether or not all of them were honest did not matter, life on the city was indeed hard and most live in tight spaces barely to be called a home. The daughter was from a rich family who could afford a more spacious room. Once her secret was found, she slowly descended to a beggar. With no home, she eventually arrived at her work having issues with hygiene. Healers who were not clean are not welcome, so she was fired from her job. Unable to support herself, she fell into poverty like the other “dreamers” who come to Aerondale looking towards the starts. Now they remain on the on the ground searching for junk and scraps of other who fall to something similar.

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Cansas Smith

October 2, 2021

You Are What You Choose
By Cansas Smith

The ship rocked softly back and forth. The bones and rotting carcasses swayed with it.

The man beside Maeve had only been dead a few minutes, and already she missed his idiotic rambling. It was better than the deathly silence that surrounded her. For in the silence, the voices dwell.

“What did you expect?” One asked.

“Not this,” Maeve cried.

“You knew he would use you.”

“I thought the man I loved was still in there. I had to believe I could still save him.” She shouted into the empty air.

“Gullible little witch.”

She yanked at the chains around her wrists. Fachnan’s words cut through her mind like a dagger.

“So desperate to see the good, little witch. So desperate to believe not all monsters are evil. But they are. Just look at you. You managed to kill your child before it was even born. Now you throw yourself at every hell spawn desperately trying to save it. It’s pathetic really.”

That snarling laugh. High-pitched and malicious.

The voices grew louder. Maeve could barely breathe. The weight of the sea crashing down on her.

“Weak!”

“Pathetic, little witch.”

Maeve cried out and fire erupted from her body. A whirlwind of flames, wood, metal, and circled Maeve but did not consume her.

“Naïve!”

“Monster!”

“Murderer!”

From the deep recesses of her mind, Maeve heard a familiar voice. She closed her eyes and homed in on its deep rusty tone. The other voices faded into a clouded murmur. Then her father’s voice spoke, clear as a bell.

“It don’t matter what they called ya. It matters what you choose to be.”

Silence swallowed the flames. Iron bars clattered to the ground around the witch.

Maeve sat on her knees, eyes still glowing hot from within the shadows cast upon her face.

“They’re wrong. I am not a monster.” She lifted her hand, to examine the flames curling around her fingers like a snake. “I’m the devil now, and everyone knows the devil commands the monsters.”

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Isa Dragon

October 1, 2021

The Little Town of Necorburg
By IsaDragon

The blessed sword connected, and off went the zombie’s head. Alice, champion of justice, raised her sword to the sky. One nice thing about fighting zombies- minimal fluids to clean from her silvered armor.

“Aww, comeon.” Came a voice from the ground.

Alice jumped. The zombie’s severed head was talking.

“Do you know how hard it is to sew that back on?” It flopped over, a bit like a fish on land, or perhaps an inchworm, wriggling back to the fallen corpse.

The flabergasted warrior of light watched it thrash, eyes wide.

“Thou speaketh?”

“‘Course I speak, I’m ‘alive’ ain’t I?” With a surprisingly loud huff for a head with no lungs, it aligned its severed neck with the stump left on the greenish corpse. The torso twitched, and the neck lost the connection. The visible eye began to twitch as the head erupted in vicious curses, and thrashed back over.

“Um. I could perhaps assist?”

“You,” the head hissed, “Have already helped enough.” This time, the one remaining arm was able to fish a bit of thread and a curved needle out of a pocket without dislodging the head, and set to work sewing the skin together, neat and precise, an inch below another row of stitches.

“Mine lord did not know you were sentient.”

“Hah!” The zombie looped the thread, neatly knotting the chord. “Heard that before.”

“Truly, had I known-.”

“Heard that too.” The zombie heaved, sitting up with core strength alone, and started pinning it’s ring finger back on. “Lemme guess, some tourist saw a shambler in the woods and ran for the barony.”

“Well, yes.”

“Baron Lauffen decided to send a holy knight to eradicate the undead.”

“Baroness Lauffen, yes.”

“Huh. Never thought ol’ Ruogen would allow a girl to head the keep.” The zombie clipped a thread with it’s teeth, and rethreaded the needle. “This happens once or twice a century. I suppose I’ll have to go back with you, demanding for recompense from the barony for accidentally sacking our little town. Again. Would you help me up, my foot’s run off somewhere.”

Reply
1. jesse fisher
  
  October 2, 2021
  
  wow, this is so cute. Like legit it moved from fantasy violence to slice of life. Like it feels like this is just a mundane thing.
  
  I also think Baron/Baroness forget about old deals and people just attack the living dead out of fear.
  
  Honestly this is a win in my book.
  
  Reply
2. Cansas Smith
  
  October 2, 2021
  
  Huh, not the direction I was expecting this to take. But I can’t say I didn’t like it. It was a fun little curveball. And I honestly just found the whole situation hilarious. That last line got me “Would you help me up, my foot’s run off somewhere.”
  
  It was also very a very fitting piece for the beginning of spooky season. Amazing work, Isa!!
  
  Reply
L. L. Marco

October 1, 2021

Connected By A Thread
L. L. Marco

The fog hung low and concealed Mara’s body, huddling in a ditch along the side of a back road. Nobody would find her. At least, not until she was gone. What a relief it was to know that she’d never be hurt again by the men who took over her quiet little town.

The grass around her was wet with dew and a red hot liquid that brought steam up from the cool ground. A river flowed out of her, more and more by the moment; the earth grew warmer while her body sank into a cool, fuzzy oblivion.

Mara smiled as her eyes slowly slipped shut and the world began to fade away…

“M-Miss!?”

A quivering, soft voice broke through the blackness. Irritation bubbled inside her; nobody came down this path. So why now…? Mara cursed the Gods as she felt the softest touch on her shoulder. It turned into a firm grip, and suddenly she was being shaken back from the brink. Her eyes lulled open, bleary and burning, only to find…

Gods. How to describe it. The most beautiful pair of blue eyes stared frantically into hers. Tears welled up and dripped down his face, his mouth whispering all sort of hushed nonsense to keep her conscious. But she didn’t hear any of it. How could she, when he was looking at her like that?

“0h Gods, you’re bleeding!” He pressed his hand firmly over her wounds.

Heat bloomed through her body. His skin was so warm, so perfectly matched to her crimson life that was staining his hands.

“What a wonderful feeling…” she whispered.

The man’s brow furrowed at this before he quickly ripped the sleeve from his own shirt and wound it tightly around her wrist.

“Stay with me,” he urged, rummaging around in his bag until he pulled out a needle and thread. It glinted in the morning sun, trembling in his soft hands as he tried to thread it. Finally he brought the needle to her flesh, and as it pierced her she wondered why it felt like he’d pierced her heart instead.

Reply
1. TheAssassin
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  The prose here is great. I was easily able to immerse myself in this story because the writing so eloquently described everything it needed to. There was no excess, and yet nothing lacked either. The story tells enough about Mara’s plight so we understand her and yet it also gives us enough description to form a good image of what she is doing. Something about this piece just feels poetic in nature, and I love that.
  
  Reply
2. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  Oh wow, I love this story so much!!
  
  “The grass around her was wet with dew and a red hot liquid that brought steam up from the cool ground. A river flowed out of her, more and more by the moment; the earth grew warmer while her body sank into a cool, fuzzy oblivion.”
  –I really really loved this part. You use defamiliarization so well that we really get put into her mindset. We know something very bad is happening, but we can’t help but feel the same relaxation she feels. That isn’t something I see done effectively a lot and I applaud you for it.
  
  “Gods. How to describe it. The most beautiful pair of blue eyes stared frantically into hers. Tears welled up and dripped down his face, his mouth whispering all sort of hushed nonsense to keep her conscious. But she didn’t hear any of it. How could she, when he was looking at her like that?”
  –I also love this part. It can be difficult to draw me in to a romance, especially when someone is described hyperbolically, but you used this so effectively. Just like with the earlier part, I can’t help but feel what she feels. I can’t help but smile as I read this part, and get excited for what’s to come. Even though it is indeed hyperbolic, it doesn’t feel like too much or draw me out of the scene, rather the exact opposite.
  It helps a lot that she’s in perhaps an almost delirious state, so this level of hyperbole also feels perfect for her mental state.
  
  Have you ever watched Firefly? This whole scene, but especially the part where he touches her and she says “What a wonderful feeling…” reminded me of Kaylee’s “Are you asking me to dance?” towards Simon in the first episode.
  
  I like that you took the prompt more literal, but also added another layer to it. I’ve read all the pieces in the private group so far and no one else took the prompt as someone literally stitching someone else up (except for myself), so that was fun to see. But I like how it wasn’t just about the needle and thread, but that the relationship might serve to heal her too. How the thread he uses to stitch her up is like the red of fate thread tying them together. I hope this man is not one of the ones who took over her town…
  
  What a great read!! I haven’t read much of your writing before, and I’m super impressed by it!! Keep up the great work!!
  
  Reply
3. RVMPLSTLTSKN
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  Tagback!
  
  This is a tragically lovely piece, Marco! Your use of imagery has improved a lot over the last year. I wondered at first, and somewhat still do, why you chose to have her rescuer be male after telling us that she’s running from men and pain.
  
  Minor nitpick (well, more of a gnat’s pick, it’s beyond minor): in the opening line you give us a modifying clause in which the verb is the same tense as the base clause. I think ‘huddled’ should be a gerund (huddling) instead, as it modifies ‘The fog… concealed Mara’s body.” Food for thought.
  
  Great job!
  
  Reply
jesse fisher

October 1, 2021

Demonic Plush
By Jesse Fisher

“I can’t believe this is a thing,” The navy wolf’s eyes shifted from one patron to another. “Then again this seems like a normal day, But this is nearing the absurd.”

The whole of the bar had been turned into a plush and knitted setting, it looked like some form of a kiddie wonderland. It looked like his kids’ nursery but if his wife had gone overboard, or listened to her friends.

Given what Korun said, “This is a convention of sewing, weaving, and knitting gods. So the place will change to that form as you know.”

The demonic wolf knew this, but the whole thing was almost too much to take…and then the plushness seemed to move and consume him.

Once he awoke his body felt weird, the prickliness of his fur was replaced by softness that made his skin crawl.

At least it would have if not for the fact he only felt like thread held him together.

…

It was at this moment his mind snapped and he began to claw at his body, this was not right. He had to deal with so much BS in this place but being turned into a plush version of himself, no his demonic pride can take a lot but this is too damn far.

—-

The Barkeep, Korun, noticed the frazzled Demon as the wolf tried in vain to rip himself apart. Having been effected, really allowed would be a better term here, by the patron’s request his heterochromic eyes drifted back to the now sealed door.

“I wanted to just have him in so I was not alone in suffering some of the vomit inducing actions of some of these gods. However, given his reaction to this all I’m starting to regret it.”

The sound of ripping could be heard.

“And it seems his bladed hands are still a thing.”

With a sigh Korun moved to get the magic thread that will change to fit what the base thread is.

Reply
1. TheAssassin
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  I quite like this story, both being lighthearted and somewhat serious. I think the setting is comical, as well as the plight of the wolf. That being said, I still feel for the wolf who is trapped in a form unsuited for himself. I think you did a good job in writing the wolf’s personality, I felt I could understand him quite well. I would have liked perhaps a little more context for what exactly is happening, but I got the gist and it worked for the story. Great job! 🙂
  
  Reply
2. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  Oooh what an interesting idea!! A character being turned into a plush is a very fitting and unique take on the prompt, I like it!!
  
  “Once he awoke his body felt weird, the prickliness of his fur was replaced by softness that made his skin crawl.
  At least it would have if not for the fact he only felt like thread held him together.
  It was at this moment his mind snapped and he began to claw at his body, this was not right. He had to deal with so much BS in this place but being turned into a plush version of himself, no his demonic pride can take a lot but this is too damn far.”
  –I especially liked this part. You did a good job of putting us in the mindset/body of the wolf and describing his sensations and how strange and wrong it feels. And then the thread line is very poetic, and conveys a fragility too. And then I like how you describe his reactions and make it clear to the audience what’s going on. Like assassin said, I both feel for the wolf, and feel it’s kind of comedic too.
  
  Also like assassin said, I would have loved a little more context as to what exactly is happening. Is knitted bar scene at the beginning real, and he offended the knitting gods, who turned him into a plush? What does the end mean exactly?
  
  Despite some confusingness, this was a super cool idea, and a fun, engaging read!!
  
  Reply
Gregory Hess

October 1, 2021

“Well, that’s not good”[Aleph Null Science fiction universe]
By Gregovin

I wake up, sweating, gasping for breath.
Where am I?
The white sterile walls surround the bed.
A monitor beeps.
This must be a hospital.
What is a hospital?
How did I get here?
I hear a “ding” directly in my brain

> Error: stored memory duplicate missing. Searching for backups

What does that mean?
Someone comes over. “Oh, you’re awake. I’ll get the doctor”

> Error: could not connect to primary backup
> Error: secondary backup corrupted
> Error: could not connect to tertiary backup

A very concerned doctor shows up. He… has a device of some sort. A… a tablet. Tablet, that’s what it is! It has the same… external thoughts that had resonated through my brain.
The doctor states “I may have a way of repairing your memories, at least partially”
I think for a moment before nodding. I… can’t quite put words together right.
The doctor points to a part of the Tablet “You’ll need to sign here”.
I automatically sign letters I don’t know.
The doctor presses a few buttons.

> Program upload complete
> Activating networking recovery mode

Memories flood into my brain.
A romantic meeting at a beach.
A shuttle drop down to the world.
A train ride on the new orbital ring.
Piloting a ship with the captain. My best friend.
Being shot down.
Being rescued.
An invitation to this planet.
The whole of my school experience.
And more and more and more.
And then it stops. I notice I am staring at the wall, dumbfounded.

> Protocol completed. Memory recovery 80% effective.

Then I realize there are large gaps. Places where there should be more.
The memory of my time on the ship doesn’t end with me falling unconscious. It ends when the captain dies being the most egregious.
Some parts of the memories are indistinct, more than they should be.
I’ll be fine. But I know what has happened. And I will be forever changed.
I thank the doctor and go home, and I know it’s my home and yet I don’t know the nooks and crannies.

Reply
1. TheAssassin
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  A bit of a sad story really. I like how you handled the sensory overload in the story, both at the beginning when the protagonist awakes and when they receive their memories; the short single-line sentences add a king of disconnect that helps put us in the mind of the protagonist. I think most of all you wrote the memory loss best. Things were there, but not there at the same time and I really got to almost understand how losing memory might be. I like the ending as well, how they are changed and will not be the same. A bit sad, but that’s a good thing! 🙂
  
  Reply
2. L. L. Marco
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  I really like h0w this is written like a play-by-play. We really g0 thr0ugh the event with them, experiencing and learning things just as they experience and learn it. The 0ne-sentence phrases being sh0rt and t0 the p0int add t0 this. I especially like t0wards the end h0w y0u made the sentences l0nger and m0re th0ught 0ut as they regained s0me 0f their mem0ry.
  
  Having mem0ry l0ss feels a l0t like this, and even th0ugh they’re a r0b0t (cyb0rg) and i’m a human. The sensati0n, the fear and c0nfusi0n, its all the same. Great piece!
  
  Reply
3. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  Ooooh, this is really cool!! It seems like this character is either some sort of robot, or a cyborg of some sort? It’s a very cool perspective. Drew me right in.
  
  I really love the error and protocol messages. You managed to write and format it so it has the same vibe as a computer. I especially love the three error messages in one part.
  
  “I thank the doctor and go home, and I know it’s my home and yet I don’t know the nooks and crannies.”
  –I absolutely love this line. It’s such a great moment where you show us how it feels. To know that it’s your home, but what is a home but all the secret hiding places? Can it be that without those?
  
  It’s a cool use of the prompt, this being trying to move on, to stitch their life together out of incomplete, patchwork memories.
  
  I love it!!
  
  Reply
RVMPLSTLTSKN

October 1, 2021

Every Soul Wounded
By RVMPLSTLTSKN (City of Meat) [CW: Body Horror]

There are few things more dehumanising than loss. Leuko learned this first when he was young, when his face was cut and beaten by cruel children playing at Gardening, and again when he was older, cutting away his family ties to join the Gardeners and search out justice. Loss makes us equal, he thought.

He stood over the Soyl—his first—while Gardener Carcino brought pain to its flesh. Fingernails first, then the little bones.

It was good to be part of something larger, to belong, and do good. He liked this work of cutting away the infections in the City of Meat, strange ideas about life and fate, anarchist and randian concepts.

Gardener Carcino took a break after removing the larynx. Soyl moaned voicelessly. Leuko licked at his split lip, a tic, touching the old scar nervously.

“I can fix that, you know,” Carcino said.

“What?”

“Your lip.”

Leuko, rather than being joyous, felt like he had been kicked in the gut, breathless and weighty. “Why?” He gasped out.

“Pruning isn’t just about removing,” Carcino said (Soyl moaned at that). “There’s growth too. I can fix you.”

“All of me?”

“Your lip, your limp. It’s all the same, just takes some time.”

“Can you—” he flushed, a foolish, childish dreamin mind. “Can you make me beautiful again?”

“I can make you elegant. Same thing, no? Proportional.”

Leuko might have nodded, maybe he only blinked. Carcino’s hand returned to Soyl’s face, who gave yet another moan, long and airy and horrid. Wet.

“There’s plenty of material here. A shame to waste such healthy teeth in the Garden. You want them?”

Leuko licked his lip again, disbelief now outweighed by disgust and desire.

Leuko looked again at Soyl. At its eyes, its teeth, its flawless, traitorous skin. He recognized that Soyl was a person, an individual, before today. Now it was just another Soyl for the Garden. It was dehumanized, a disease and threat to the City.

He licked his lip again, tasting blood, and Soyl’s eyes rolled as it screamed silently.

“I think I want that, to be fixed.”

Carcino smiled obligingly.

Reply
1. TheAssassin
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  Wow. The worldbuilding here is great! Despite knowing nothing about this world, and having nothing really explained, I somehow felt as though it was real. I felt like the world was moving, even beyond the scope of the story. I don’t really understand anything about the world, but it feels real and immersed me the whole time. I don’t know how, but you did a great job there. I think the protagonist’s plight was well crafted and the dialogue was excellent. Had I read this as an opening to a larger work, I would have not been surprised. It feels to me of that quality. Something just really resonated with me about this piece. Your writing was just fantastic.
  
  Reply
2. L. L. Marco
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  It t00k me a while t0 get a grasp 0n what was g0ing 0n here but when it all clicked it was b0ne chilling. I really like h0w the reflecti0n 0f dehumanizati0n was br0ught back t0 S0yl, wh0 was ab0ut t0 l0se literally everything. Brings us back t0 the first line.
  
  And h0w it all c0nnects in 0ne kind 0f garden terman0l0gy. I’m getting the n0ti0n 0f the gardeners being s0rt 0f … ‘pruners’ f0r their w0rk and any0ne wh0’s a target f0r the pruning is refered t0 as S0yl (dirt 😀 ) . I like the dehumanizati0n 0f that as well; t0 Leuk0 and Carcin0, 0nce this pers0n did whatever he did he was n0 l0nger human, but a part 0f a sc0urge that needed trimming. Perhaps that makes it easier t0 d0 their j0b, 0r maybe humanity g0t trained 0ut 0f them l0ng ag0.
  
  Als0 the subtle add 0f the pr0mpt in here; the stitching that happens 0ff screen as Leuk0 is rebuilt int0 their idealized self. Very clever, l0ts 0f little treats t0 find in this st0ry and i’m sure i’d find m0re if i read it again!
  
  As always, a pleasure t0 read y0ur w0rks! <3
  
  Reply
3. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  Heyy! You did write something!! Glad to see it!!
  
  This is a really great piece. The more I reread it, the more I like it.
  I really like the juxtaposition of the horror of Soyl, and how normal it is to them, and the hopefulness of the conversation.
  
  I like how in the beginning you have the images of him losing something physical, and losing relationships, and how the two are almost equated. (Because, in this world, are relationships too but pieces of meat?) And I like how the losses are both tied to Gardening. Leuko thinks Gardening is a good thing, but when you look at how it caused this loss…well…
  It’s also interesting that you use the word “dehumanizing” when this is a city made of people who have been more dehumanized than anything….and lost more than anything.
  “Loss makes us equal”…yet you’re standing above the garden, above the still-living piece…. which are clearly not equal to you….
  
  “It was good to be part of something larger, to belong, and do good. He liked this work of cutting away the infections in the City of Meat, strange ideas about life and fate, anarchist and randian concepts.”
  –I like this part. It’s poetic. And, again its that juxtaposition between how beautiful Leuko thinks it is, and how horrific it is in practice.
  
  “Gardener Carcino took a break after removing the larynx. Soyl moaned voicelessly. Leuko licked at his split lip, a tic, touching the old scar nervously.”
  –I love how simply something so horrifying as “removing the larynx” can be said here, and then paired with horrible moans. That it really does seem like he’s picking weeds out of a garden.
  
  “I can fix that, you know,” Carcino said.”
  –I really like this line and how it cuts the scene. The whole conversation really. And I really like Leuko’s reactions. They are unique and make him feel like a real person.
  
  “Can you—” he flushed, a foolish, childish dreamin mind. “Can you make me beautiful again?”
  “I can make you elegant. Same thing, no? Proportional.”
  –Oh no. Not the same my dear….
  Love it.
  
  “There’s plenty of material here. A shame to waste such healthy teeth in the Garden. You want them?”
  –Same as the larynx line. Love how horrible it sounds to the audience but how normal it is for them.
  
  “Leuko looked again at Soyl. At its eyes, its teeth, its flawless, traitorous skin.”
  –Poetic and terrible.
  
  “He licked his lip again, tasting blood, and Soyl’s eyes rolled as it screamed silently.
  “I think I want that, to be fixed.”
  Carcino smiled obligingly.”
  –This is probably my favorite part. Where the juxtaposition is the strongest. I think the silent scream is perhaps the most horrific image of all, that it’s alive, but can’t even scream. And then it’s followed by the most hopeful line. How he can look upon extreme horror that would make anyone in our world run screaming, and they can smile at each other and talk of beauty and fixing.
  
  This was a really cool use of the prompt. That he can be stitched back together, but they have to use the bodies of others to do it. That something has to be lost for something else to be fixed, but in this case, he doesn’t have to pay the price himself.
  
  Kinda reminds me of Yennefer in Witcher and how she became beautiful?
  
  Great piece!!
  
  Reply
4. Gregory Hess
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  This is a really chilling story. One thing that stuck out to me is that the gardener seems to be causing the most pain possible to Soyl, and it seems like if the goal was just to strip them for parts they could just kill him outright. Also, with the way the story says he cut family ties and then how it says Soyl is his first almost seems to imply Soyl could be his own son, though I think it probably isn’t, and is even stronger if Soyl could have been anyone, including his family.
  
  Reply
MysteryElement

September 30, 2021

Stitching Yourself Back Together
By MysteryElement

My right shoulder itched miserably where my arm should have been. The events of its loss are still fresh in my mind, and I have become irritable and impatient without my dominant hand. Was it worth it? I suppose. At the time I had no ulterior motives, but actions in life have consequences.

Drakes, like daemons, can make pacts with humans in exchange for power, but drakes ask for blood rather than souls. The more vital the blood, the more powerful the bond. My actions had unintentionally bound me to Conrad, and I nearly hated him for it.

“Rubbing it won’t make it grow back.” Conrad’s deep voice rumbled from the corner.

I sullenly drop my hand, and return to my pitiful attempt at writing. After my bond was formed I was chased out of my hometown, no surprise there. I did not think my family would bother reading my letter, but I wanted to write to them anyway. I missed them

My letters were clumsy and my hand could not properly grasp the stylis, it had taken me the better part of an hour to get as far as I had, and I had not written half of what I wanted to say. Each letter was a painful reminder of loss, each clumsy scrawl a mocking display of my current state. I scream in anguish and throw the stylis in unfettered rage against the nearest wall.

“That was unnecessary.” Conrad drawled, unperturbed “Now you will have to go retrieve it.”

“What is the point?” My words pour from my mouth in acrid self loathing “What is a cripple like me going to accomplish with these halfhearted efforts?”

Conrad and I stared, the silence cocooning us in tension, before he slowly walked over to pick up my stylis in his too large claws.

“You are not a cripple.” His reply was so soft it was nearly a purr. “You have lost a great deal, but you, YOU, are whole. Do not let your pain deceive you.”

He places the stylis at my feet and returns to his corner without another word.

Reply
1. TheAssassin
  
  September 30, 2021
  
  I love the atmosphere of this one. Something about the loss of one’s arm and the subsequent ability to write was very powerful. I don’t often consider what life would be like without my whole body, and I pray I never lose it but this story is somehow comforting in that despite losing something seemingly so important, the dragon still maintains that the protagonist is whole and that there is nothing wrong. A crushing yet oddly comforting story, great job. 🙂
  
  Reply
2. Constellasphere
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  The build-up of this story is certainly amazing. You did an amazing job describing the struggles this character is going through and the interactions between him and Conrad are well written. The unexpectedness of loosing an arm and having to get used to it is also well written.
  Conrad’s last line hits hard; to be whole has many meanings.
  Well done!
  
  Reply
3. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  I’m very curious about this world!! How did this character lose their arm? How did they bind themselves to Conrad unintentionally? (“My actions had unintentionally bound me to Conrad, and I nearly hated him for it.” is a great line, by the way).
  The part about their family and how they were driven away is powerful too. It’s unfortunate that they didn’t intend for this to happen, and it changed their entire life, costing them their arm and their family, and probably more.
  
  “Each letter was a painful reminder of loss, each clumsy scrawl a mocking display of my current state.”
  –I like this line.
  
  “That was unnecessary.” Conrad drawled, unperturbed “Now you will have to go retrieve it.”
  –Conrad seems like one of those classic, strikingly-literal characters. I love it!!
  
  “Conrad and I stared, the silence cocooning us in tension, before he slowly walked over to pick up my stylis in his too large claws.
  “You are not a cripple.” His reply was so soft it was nearly a purr. “You have lost a great deal, but you, YOU, are whole. Do not let your pain deceive you.”
  –I absolutely ADORE this part. I love how you set it up that the viewpoint character doesn’t want to be bound to Conrad, which could mean that he’s not a great person (drake?), and he isn’t being very comforting towards them at first. But I love how he goes and picks up the stylis himself and then comforts them at the end, saying that what they have lost doesn’t make them who they are. It’s a beautiful application of the prompt.
  
  Great job!!
  
  Reply
Matthew (Handsome Johanson)

September 30, 2021

The Answers at Last
by Matthew (Handsome Johanson)

It was another bad day. Life came crashing violently down upon me, and I needed an escape. I found myself wandering the deserts outside of town. The rocky arid landscape devoid of distractions had a way of calming my soul in those days, but my burning desire for escape was unquenchable this time.

I ran out into the desert, blind, and mad, angry at the world. Kicking stones, running over boulders, and tearing through bushes, I clawed my way violently to the hills far outside of town. Here, in the old days, miners would blast through earth and stone to find their fortune. Today, the tunnels they left behind serve as excellent reliefs from the sun.

I leaned on a wall and cried.

Some time later, maybe hours, through my tears, I noticed the light in the cave dimming. It was getting late, and I didn’t want to risk braving the desert at night. I tore myself from the wall and started on the return journey.

As the light of the sun began to dim further and further, my attention was brought further and further to a dim light I could see along the path up ahead. When I got closer, it’s form became clear, but it remained a mystery. It was a blue stone, glowing dimly in the twilight.

I picked it up. For what reason, I still don’t know, but I’m glad I did. As I held the rock, I felt my brain fill with understanding. The future, the past, the present. All gained meaning and a purpose. I’m no diviner, but I felt a part of the universe.

I took a deep breath.

This. This was it, the answer I had been seeking my entire life. All the troubles I had, all the suffering, all the pain I’ve endured, has culminated in my salvation. I have finally found the peace I so rightly deserved. No, the entire WORLD deserved this knowledge!

And this, dear reader, is why I tell my story. You too can find peace in your life. If only you join me on my mission.

Reply
1. TheAssassin
  
  September 30, 2021
  
  A great story! I really enjoyed the beginning where you expertly crafted the desert scene and captured the raw emotions of the protagonist. It felt real, I could feel the desert heat, the desperation to escape, the tears flowing in a cave. It all felt real. Then the story went on to its purpose, and I like the open nature of the ending. What is this stone? Why does it have the effect it does? Should we be concerned? Should we join the protagonist on his mission? Lots of questions draw out my curiosity. I really liked this one, great work! 🙂
  
  Reply
2. Constellasphere
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  Ooh, this story is wonderful. I love the drive that the beginning of the story has; you can feel the desperation in their words as they do everything possible to get away and find some sort of happiness. The vagueness of the stone is good too. Maybe he just likes stones and felt happiness at finding one, maybe the stone has some sort of magic to it – I like that we dont know.
  Amazing job!
  
  Reply
3. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  This was a great read!! I’m not sure I totally understand what’s going on XD But it was a great read nonetheless.
  
  I especially love the beginning, you describe the setting, and the viewpoint character’s emotions both really well, also managing to tie them together!! It really draws you in and makes you feel for the character.
  
  “It was another bad day.” “Kicking stones, running over boulders, and tearing through bushes, I clawed my way violently to the hills far outside of town.” “I leaned on a wall and cried.” were my favorite lines here.
  The first is a great opener, the second is a really great use of verbs to convey the feeling and power of the scene, and for that last one, it can be difficult to have a character cry and feel for them in such a short amount of words, but I think it works here!! I especially like how you made it its own line.
  
  “I’m no diviner, but I felt a part of the universe.” was another favorite line.
  
  I’m not quite clear on what this stone was, what exactly it showed them, and even where they physically are in their world, or if they’re in a dream XD But it was an interesting idea nonetheless!! I’m curious if they were drawn in by some evil power and are trying to draw us in too?
  
  Great piece!!
  
  Reply
4. jesse fisher
  
  October 2, 2021
  
  A cult leader, did not see that coming. Like the journey from the sad man to confident leader. I see the stitching here and like it.
  
  Really love the whole idea of this piece and the message from this person.
  
  Reply
i-prefer-the-term-antihero

September 30, 2021

[Removed]

Reply
1. Glaceon373
  
  September 30, 2021
  
  Antihero, there’s a lot of fun stuff going on in this piece. The opening is incredibly poetic, which is beautiful and flowy and sucks you right into the story. Towards the end of the piece, though, I started to get a little turned around in the dialogue, and I sometimes had to reread some chunks in order to understand what was going on. (It’s probably because I haven’t had breakfast yet and am tired, no worries)
  Your characterizations of Victor Frankenstein and the creation are awesome! I want to punch Victor in his grinning little face, which means you’re doing it right.
  Overall, Antihero, a fun piece with fun characters and style. Great job!
  
  Reply
2. Gregory Hess
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  The strings of fate being used to bind life back together is an interesting twist onto the idea. I like the way victor put himself back together in the same way he put his monster together, and they have both become monsters. It would be cool if victor ended up like this because of his monster’s attempt to murder him, but I’m not sure about that. Frankenstein just tugging on the tread holding his creature together is a good way to make him more threatening than he is normally. Great story!
  
  Reply
3. RVMPLSTLTSKN
  
  October 2, 2021
  
  Tagback!
  
  This piece is perhaps one of the more haunting pieces of this story-thread. The Creature’s curiosity, desire and shame is more empathizing than the cruelty he supposes Victor to possess. The twining of fate into flesh is a horrifyingly grand idea and I can’t wait to see where it goes.
  
  Great job!
  
  Reply
TheAssassin

September 29, 2021

The Last
TheAssassin

Woods of snarled roots, painful paths, and darkened hallows swallowed an old soldier. His uniform hung torn and dishevelled, and his eyes sought no end. He stumbled through brush and branch, giving no mind to his path. There shone no light by which to see, and he cared not; he lost himself in the darkness.

The dark, dark, darkness.
And the deep, deep, loneliness.

Years passed, or minutes. Long he wandered, or brief.

He felt empty.

Void.

…
…
…

Suddenly, his foot snagged on a stray root, and he fell.

His eyes snapped into awareness. An endless chasm, a shard of the dark infinitudes beyond, flew by.

Flailing in the fall. Reaching. Reaching. Reaching.

Finding nothing.

Smiles to ash, fire and slaughter, brothers dead, swords upheld, promises made, honour to failure, bravery to cowardice, confrontation to flight, together… alone. Last.

He slammed into stone. His arm cracked and his bones crunched. Streaks of pain scorched his body. He gargled thick blood, struggling to breathe. His chest burned; he clenched his knuckles, digging nails into flesh. He coughed blood desperately. His chest screamed and the soldier’s mind tore itself apart.

He wheezed and gasped the air.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Blood. Darkness. Despair.

He gritted his teeth, wincing at his wounds, and lifted teary eyes. Around him rose a grove of graves.

…

Their graves.

A dozen decaying arms rose from the dirt, fingers like claws reaching for him. He knew them… hated them… loved them. They called. Penance, he knew. Submit to judgment; bear his sins.

So, into the reaching arms he went, his self given away, him to them and them to him. To join them, become like them. To the silence evermore.

Yet, as he gave himself to the arms, they held him back. They kept him above ground. Arms as armour embraced him, comforted him, strengthened him, defying the darkness and ushering in the light.

They loved him and forgave him.

Memories of the fallen wove as stitches into his flesh.

He held the thread and did not let go.

Reply
1. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  September 30, 2021
  
  Oooh this is really cool!!
  I like the vague, etherial vibe to this story. That you’re never quite sure what’s happening, if it’s a dream or real or both, and everything is flowing together. I also like the settings of the forest and the graveyard and how you described them both.
  
  There were a ton of lines I liked in this, so in attempts to not just copy-paste the whole story as my favorite line XD here are a couple of my strongest favorites:
  
  “Smiles to ash, fire and slaughter, brothers dead, swords upheld, promises made, honour to failure, bravery to cowardice, confrontation to flight, together… alone. Last.”
  
  “A dozen decaying arms rose from the dirt, fingers like claws reaching for him. He knew them… hated them… loved them. They called. Penance, he knew. Submit to judgment; bear his sins.”
  
  “Memories of the fallen wove as stitches into his flesh.
  He held the thread and did not let go.”
  –This was also a very interesting line/ending/use of the prompt. I like how his stitching himself back together was more so his memories fueling his resolve and keeping him from falling into the dark.
  
  This was really great!! Keep up the good work!!
  
  Reply
2. RVMPLSTLTSKN
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  Tagback!
  
  This is an interesting piece. I’m a sucker for highly internalized narratives, so I’m fully on board with the horror here. I’m wnodering if the imagery of the void is literal or figurative and representing depression, if the dead are truly undead or an idolized sense of suicide and peaceful death, if his trauma—so clearly shown—is manifested in the world or is he’s hallucinating.
  
  I found your use of passive voice interesting. It showed up most noticably in the opening paragraph (There shone no light by which), but I think there were a couple other places it appeared. It didn’t harm the narrative, if anything it showed us how detached MC is from his surroundings.
  
  Good work!
  
  Reply
3. MysteryElement
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  This is strangely beautiful. Our soldier, surrounded by devastation, loss, regret, and complete defeat of self, still somehow managed to find forgiveness in the pain. Sometimes, forgiving yourself is necessary to healing, but forgiving yourself can be harder than forgiving your worst enemy. I genuinely feel relief for this character, and the love that surrounds him is potent. Very well written!
  
  Reply
Glaceon373

September 28, 2021

In Need of Outside Help
by Carrie (Glaceon373) (Students of the DiamondBridge Academy universe)

Realizing you’re a horrible person is never a good feeling.

It happened to Roselyn the night before. Stayed awake most of the night thinking about it, flopped on a couch, ignoring the creases definitely forming in her ballgown.

She was a horrible person to everyone around her.

Sam shouldn’t have been there last night. She shouldn’t have been forced to dance with Roselyn wearing a silly disguise so her mother would think she was dancing with any random rich human guy instead of a broke batfolk girl.

Roselyn thought it would be the perfect subterfuge of her mother’s perfect little expectations. Sam was bleeding from seventeen different cuts, walking on a possibly broken foot, and had her favorite jacket ruined—and that was only from getting to the party, not even counting the psychological damage from talking to the filthy upper class.

Less than a day of hindsight later, it seemed incredibly childish.

Roselyn groaned and rolled over on the couch. The same question pounded in her head:

“So, you’re using me to do what, exactly?”

It was a question that Roselyn hated how many possible answers she could give in response.

And it wasn’t even just Sam! She’d used the new kid so the Pack would stay off her back. And back when they got along, she used the Pack as an always-applicable excuse.

She stared at the ceiling, the stains of last night’s eye makeup still on her face.

She was a horrible person.

She was a horrible person and there was nothing she could do.

… Wait.

Roselyn suddenly jolted upright. “Where did I put it?”

She darted to the nearest pile of papers, then to the next, frantically digging through them.

There! She snatched it and held it up.

Unit Helpful Counseling, LLC. A cut-out advertisement from a newspaper.

She’d saved it because the name made her laugh, not because she thought she’d ever use it.

Now she had an appointment to schedule.

Reply
1. WolfsbaneX
  
  September 29, 2021
  
  It’s good to see Roselyn getting the help she needs. Well done! I kind of want to see what caused all of this, but the way you described it gives us what we need. It’s interesting how you’re using socio-economic class differences as the obstacles their relationship faces. I wonder how that’s going to be resolved…
  
  Reply
2. Lari B. Haven
  
  September 29, 2021
  
  It’s a very well paced story. I really liked the Roselyn in here.
  One thing is for sure, people that say they are “using” others for their gain and admitting it, are most of times just doing to fill a void or for survival. Even if the story dosen’t say exactly, for me at least looks to be the later.
  I’m glad that whatever Roselyn is passing through, she will at least seek help for it. Everyone deserves a happy ending.
  
  Reply
3. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  September 30, 2021
  
  This is very interesting!!
  
  “Realizing you’re a horrible person is never a good feeling.”
  –This beginning drew me in super fast. Great opener.
  
  “It happened to Roselyn the night before. Stayed awake most of the night thinking about it, flopped on a couch, ignoring the creases definitely forming in her ballgown.” “She stared at the ceiling, the stains of last night’s eye makeup still on her face.”
  –I really like these images!! They’re short but so vivid.
  
  “Sam shouldn’t have been there last night. She shouldn’t have been forced to dance with Roselyn wearing a silly disguise so her mother would think she was dancing with any random rich human guy instead of a broke batfolk girl.”
  –Wow, what an idea!! This is also really vivid and draws me in well.
  I wonder what “batfolk” are exactly.
  
  I’m a bit confused about the part about all the wounds Sam got on the way to the party? I guess I must just be missing the scene but I’d love to know a little more about what’s going on there.
  
  I was not expecting that ending but it was nice!! You don’t get to see a lot of people in fantasy worlds go to counseling XD Especially interesting that that was the answer to the prompt here. A very realistic way for someone to help stitch themselves back together.
  I was going to say, it doesn’t seem like Roselyn is a horrible person, more that her own head is being mean to her at the moment. So it’s cool that she kinda realized that and decided to do something about it? It was a nice and hopeful ending.
  
  Great story!! I’m already curious about your world and characters!!
  
  Reply
WolfsbaneX

September 28, 2021

“Home Sweet Home”
By Hemming Sebastian Bane (CW: Body horror, arachnophobia)

Home was a difficult thing for us to build. Home was the way we could experience the world safely. Home was our greatest creation. And now what was home? Broken. Shattered by something that thought IT knew better than US. Now we needed to rebuild our home. Repair the damage IT did. But we needed to do so quietly. IT could be near.

We split into five groups to better accomplish our tasks: one for each piece of our home IT had torn asunder. Our force set to work, each individual marching in rhythm. Each individuals’ eight limbs clacked against their chitinous shells. We converged around the limbs and the main chamber that we inhabited. We pushed the sundered parts to the main part.

Then, the work began in earnest. Individual after individual weaved web after web. We attached the first limb in the right place, we think. Then the second. The third. The fourth. Finally, the main chamber. We pulled every web taut and hoped for the best. Then, we regrouped and entered the chamber. Individuals once again took their places in our home.

Now was the moment of truth. Slowly, shakily our home stood on two of its limbs. So far, so good. We continued. Left step. Right step. Left step. Right step. Good. Our home was still mobile. Left grab. Right grab. Left grab. Right grab. Our home could still interact with the environment. Minute after minute we ran tests on our home. Our home was almost as good as new, but there was only more thing.

We forced the diaphragm to expand as the air sacs filled with air, then slowly released. We excited the apparatuses in the primary and secondary chambers. Our hairs stood on edge with anticipation.

“Hello?”

Our home could still communicate. That was good. We were excited!

“Yes. We can talk. We can talk. Yes. Hello. We can talk.”

Our home was complete again. But we were not safe yet. IT had deprived us of a meal, and rebuilding our home took much energy. We needed to find a new home soon.

Reply
1. Glaceon373
  
  September 29, 2021
  
  Even though I’m normally very spooked by spiders, this story was still a phenomenal read, Wolf! You don’t often see stories written from a “we” perspective, but it fits very well here. I wonder what “IT” is; my best guess is a human foot that squished the home, but if you ever expand this I’ll be very exited to see the result! Great job, Wolf!
  
  Reply
2. Lari B. Haven
  
  September 29, 2021
  
  It might be me just not having that big of a problem with spiders, but I must confess I actually found it cute instead of horrifying.
  I couldn’t help but read it as if I was watching them rebuild their tiny homes with a magnifying glass.
  I really love this perspective, and how it you wrote it.
  Great story Wolf!
  
  Reply
3. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  September 30, 2021
  
  I totally agree with Glaceon. I have super bad arachnophobia but I loved this story!!
  
  This was such a cool perspective. Like others said, I loved the we and IT perspective. It had a very army-esque vibe? Or maybe like a factory? Like everyone was going about their tasks, hearts and minds set on a single goal, ready to do battle, or simply do their work, all in sync with each other.
  
  On my first read, I assumed a human destroyed their web somehow. At first I thought they were just rebuilding their webs but, by the end, especially with the body horror warning…I wondered if the spiders killed the/a human, then stitched it up and inhabited it. But THEN when I read it a second time I realized, if I’m correct, the human body IS “Home”, it already was from the beginning, and it got dismembered somehow and they had to stitch it back together.
  Maybe I totally misinterpreted it XD But that’s where my brain went when you started talking about two limbs, diaphragms and them talking.
  
  You said you submitted this prompt because you had a cool and freaky idea, and you absolutely delivered!! I love it.
  
  Reply
4. MysteryElement
  
  October 1, 2021
  
  Oh dear… Oh very dear… Very creepily done. You did very well at unraveling the story bit by bit, first revealing our characters, then their goal, the strangeness, then finally the reveal. Perhaps someone of a sharpen mind may have seen it coming, but the way it slowly revealed itself as it read was appropriately creepy and fascinating! I love this idea, well done.
  
  Reply
Lari B. Haven

September 27, 2021

Flooding back to me (Haven’s Tale)
By Lari B. Haven (Larissa)

The afternoon in the pool was something she wanted, but Haven wasn’t having fun. At first she thought perhaps it was because she and Jack had an argument the day before, but they were cool now.

She then walked to the trampoline and went for a dip. She took a deep breath and looked down. There was a rush of anxiety that hit her out of nowhere, something that made her nauseous. That vision had her steeped in tears. She disconnected from her body for a moment. The pool was a bathtub.

Haven tripped on her feet and fell. All the air left her lungs and the pain on her ribcage made her confused. She could listen to her own faint voice, haplessly shouting to Jack to help her, but her voice sounded younger.

She could hear him screaming angrily at her. When her eyes opened, her tails shriveled, as she was expecting him to finish scolding her.

“I’m sorry.” The words refused to come out naturally. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Haven, it was an accident. What are you apologizing for?” He held her in his arms and helped her breath. “Are you okay?”

Haven never had felt this confused. Should she smile? Perhaps try something else to not alarm him?

“I’m…” Her mind couldn’t find the words. “I’m going inside for a moment.”

She needed space to cry. So she went to her room.

When she was a child, her mother used to sleep through the entire day. She knew her mother was ill at the time. When her mother was angry it was because she was in pain. So Haven learned to take care of herself.

One day she needed to take a bath, but she was small and fell in the bathtub. Haven had her head in the water and almost drowned. And her mother screamed at her for hours after that.

Haven thought she had forgotten about it; that things were fine now her mother was well. So why now? Now that she was living with somebody else?

Memories came back. And it was a violent storm.

Reply
1. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  September 30, 2021
  
  Aww poor Haven. This was an interesting story.
  
  “The afternoon in the pool was something she wanted, but Haven wasn’t having fun. At first she thought perhaps it was because she and Jack had an argument the day before, but they were cool now.”
  — I really like this opening part.
  The only part I’m unsure of is “they were cool now.” It sticks out a bit because it feels almost too colloquial?
  
  “She disconnected from her body for a moment. The pool was a bathtub.
  Haven tripped on her feet and fell. All the air left her lungs and the pain on her ribcage made her confused. She could listen to her own faint voice, haplessly shouting to Jack to help her, but her voice sounded younger.”
  –This is really interesting and kinda sad. I like how it feels like a confusing and out of place flashback to the audience as much as it does to Haven. It’s effective.
  
  “When she was a child, her mother used to sleep through the entire day. She knew her mother was ill at the time. When her mother was angry it was because she was in pain. So Haven learned to take care of herself.
  One day she needed to take a bath, but she was small and fell in the bathtub. Haven had her head in the water and almost drowned. And her mother screamed at her for hours after that.”
  –This was my favorite part. It’s so intense and raw and real. It sounds like her mother was mentally ill. That sort of thing is not something portrayed super often and I like it. “When her mother was angry it was because she was in pain” I like that Haven has the intelligence and presence of mind to realize this.
  That’s so sad about the bathtub. I’m sure her mom was just worried about her but it’s not right of her to scream at her for it…Jack’s right, it was just an accident!! I’m glad he’s able to help her and comfort her now.
  
  The only thing is, I’m rather confused about what happened in real time. Did she fall in the pool and almost drown just like she did in the bathtub?
  
  I like that you took this prompt to a more rich and emotional place. That she needs to heal from emotional wounds.
  
  Great piece!!
  
  Reply
Constellasphere

September 27, 2021

“In-Line Eternity”
By Constellasphere (formerly InkySegno)

The soft, whispery hiss becomes rhythmic, constant. It continues on, as of a heartbeat that is beautifully flawed.

A line is engraved within the material. Even in it’s dark boundaries, there is still freedom to be had. God, there is so much that could be done; what step will be taken next?

Here, a slant is placed. One becomes many, until there is a sizable shape of them. In the present, it looks like nothing important. Just a bunch of diagonals of varying colours that have no significant meaning.

But with this decision, whether reckless or within reason, they are brought together.

Singular slashes become crosses; connections are made and hold together tightly. Memories are made as the threads go backwards to make something more. Time is irrelevant and everything; here in the beating heart of every life.

A singular undivided line becomes hundreds, and hundreds will become thousands. That is, the vision of the future can be seen. To be embraced, to be loved; yes, this is love. The world made of interlockingly unconditional love. Even through every flaw and fray, it is withstanding.

This mind of loneliness, which craves the ability to be held – to be uttered affectionately – will birth a miracle. Even through envy and the want to scream out, beauty is made. A world is born seemingly out of nowhere.

Uncertainty will cause a shaking, an anxiety from deep within a concave chest. But in that moment, where a clear vision can be seen, even this emptiness is filled.

That is all; the point is pulled tightly to tie it all together. There is a bright revelation, a moment to think back of the past. It is a blur; how did it reach this time? To be dazed by the awe of golden-layered memories, and to have the strength to look at them fondly. And to secure the past to this now, a knot is tied. The question is no longer there; a definite timeline has formed.

This tapestry is complete, and from a void, love continues to grow.

Tears are shed; the messy patchwork thought is beautiful.

Reply
1. WolfsbaneX
  
  September 29, 2021
  
  Oh wow. With this piece, I’ve been given a lot to dissect. This is a lot of information. I do like the idea that reflection and introspection fixes broken things. I also appreciate how raw this is emotionally, as if continuing to write is opening old wounds and creating new ones. Nice job!
  
  Reply
2. Lari B. Haven
  
  September 29, 2021
  
  I really love the introspection of this piece. I know that the central thesis here is the idea that building itself again is a long process that always changes oneself deeply.
  It was also beautifully written. I just can’t say how much I liked your it.
  Keep going!
  
  Reply
3. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  September 30, 2021
  
  WOW!! This is so cool and beautiful!!
  
  Others called it introspection but, for me, it seems less like we’re looking into a character’s thoughts (we don’t know who’s thinking this), and more that this is more like a sort of poetic, profound commentary?
  
  I love how the complexity of a tapestry is compared to the complexity of human relationships. I love how you can almost see each stitch being placed as you read, how you zero in on the individual steps of the thing. There’s such rhythm to the piece.
  
  There were a lot of lines I liked in this, but it’d be hard to pick favorites. Overall it’s just super poetic and beautiful, and like other’s said, lots of food for thought!!
  
  Amazing work!!
  
  Reply