Writing Group: A Place to Call Home (PRIVATE)

Hello, Wanderers and Drifters!

Do you even know where we are? How much longer are we going to wander aimlessly out here? I’m tired, you’re tired… I think it’s time we find someplace permanent to settle down, because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

A Place to Call Home

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!

A prompt like this just gives you the warm fuzzies, doesn’t it? It conjures up such lovely, heartwarming images.

Images like a child stumbling in from the winter cold, carrying a stray cat they found alone outside, and begging to keep the small animal. They make all the promises of feeding it and cleaning up after it, and their parents eventually give in. Or perhaps the image of an orphan child finally being adopted by a loving family after years of thinking they would never have a place of their own. They’d moved from house to house, but had never really settled until this new family brought them in. Maybe a couple has finally managed to save up enough money to get the house of their dreams, where they plan to settle down and start a family. Or maybe it’s as simple as starting a new game and needing to build a home base for safety and security before exploring the rest of the digital world.

But like all prompts, there’s another side to this to be explored. Perhaps it’s the lone merchant who never stays in one place, wandering from town to town selling their exotic wares. Maybe one person in a village is too different, too opposite of the village’s known way of life, and is outcast from the only home they ever knew. Or maybe it’s just someone dreaming of exploring the world, saving up money and prepping everything they would need for such a large journey. But even on such a big adventure, they know there’s always one place they can return to if they ever need it, one place that will always be there for them.

Sometimes, home isn’t a place at all. Some say a home is four walls and a roof, while others say it doesn’t matter where you are, that it’s only made a home by the people you’re with.

So go forth and explore the possibilities. We’ll be waiting right here for when you return, just like we always are.

—Shawna

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!

  1. Text and Formatting

    1. English only.
    2. Prose only, no poetry or lyrics.
    3. Use proper spelling, grammar, and syntax.
    4. Your piece must be between 250-350 words (you can use this website to see your wordcount).
    5. 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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  2. What to Submit

    1. Keep submissions “safe-for-work”; be sparing with sexuality, violence, and profanity.
    2. Try to focus on making your submission a single meaningful moment rather than an entire story.
    3. Write something brand new; no re-submitting past entries or pieces written for other purposes
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    5. 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).
  3. Submission Rules

    1. One submission per participant.
    2. Submit your entry in a comment on this post.
    3. Submissions close at 12:00pm CST each Friday.
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    5. 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.
    6. 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).
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Comments on this post that aren’t submissions will be deleted, except for replies/reviews left on existing submissions.


Comments

51 responses to “Writing Group: A Place to Call Home (PRIVATE)”

  1. WolfsbaneX Avatar
    WolfsbaneX

    “Temporary Lodgings”
    By Hemming Sebastian Bane (CW: parasites, mind control)

    The start of my life is abrupt. Burst forth. Struggle in darkness. Sense warmth. Crawl towards it. Crawl inside. Navigate the tunnels. Find the wall. Dig through. Enter the chamber. From there, coat the chamber in my mucus. Allow it to harden. Approach my white black red pink feast. Extend my bladed tongue. Crawl over my feast. Scrape it into my maw. Assimilate function. Remember my feast’s memories.

    Others’ warmth. Grass underneath. Brightness from above. Names of things come. Feet. Legs. Arms. Hands. Mother. Father. Sun. Moon. Stars. Continue the feast. Assimilate more functions. Move a finger. Move the hand. Move the arm and shoulder. I control my feast’s arms now. Eat more. Assimilate more function. Assimilate more memories. Names of our possible feasts come. Mother. Gretel. Balthazar. Tobit. Sakari. My appetite grows.

    Consume more of my fleshy meal. Memories, sensations, and emotions become known. I am almost done with my delicious feast. Scrape down the last morsel. I can move my feast’s legs. I can move my feast’s mouth. I can speak through my feast.

    “M-my name is Urs.”

    No difference from the memories. Good. I will eat well. I am bound to the spot where my feast once was. Three suns and three moons. I must find another feast in three suns and three moons. Until then, I am safe.

    This is no longer my feast. This is my home for the time being. My home escapes the cave. Climbs down the mountain. Enters the village. So many homes to make. So much variety. So little time. I must work before they put my home in quarantine.

  2. Gerrit (Rattus) Avatar
    Gerrit (Rattus)

    Shelter
    by Gerrit(Rattus)

    When the storms rage on with all the fury of a jaded God, the cold wind and harsh rains attacking her from every angle, each minute can feel just as much like an hour. And so it was that Serennia had no idea how long she had been walking for, or for how much longer.

    That was the problem with night, she figured. During the day, the sun is kind enough to follow a pattern, constantly reminding you of just how much more time you had together. The moon was much less helpful. It was already in the sky before the sun set, and still lingered when the sun rose again in the morning.

    When her feet felt like they were about to rebel against her, she noticed salvation in the distance. A meager, run down farmhouse that looked to be surviving the storm about as well as she was. It wasn’t much, but even the smallest morsel looks like a feast when you’re starving.

    She hazarded a knock on the door. The wind whipped at her clothing, the rain dripping down her hair and across her face. She was just beginning to turn away when the door slowly swung open, held mostly closed by a chain lock.

    “Who are you?” the man asked, peeping through the small slit between the door and the threshold.

    “I need shelter. Please.” They were the only words she could get out. The shivering had robbed her of any more than that. Even if she were able to say more, what else could she say? The full truth would only get her turned away.

    The man stood in silent contemplation for a moment. “You can sleep out in the shed. It’s not much, but it’ll do.”

    As she found her bed among the haystacks, the scent of dirt and manure assaulting her nostrils, she pulled her knees up to her chest. The hay scratched every inch of exposed skin she had, and the grain did nothing to soften the hard ground underneath.

    It wasn’t much, but it was, perhaps, all that she deserved.

    1. Rattus! There is so much tightly packed in this little space! I love how excellently you navigate the word limit. You get the reader inside of Serennia’s head well also exploring her surroundings and building up this mystery around her circumstances.

      I am incredibly intrigued by what drove this poor young woman out into the elements like this. Even more so because she feels she deserves this type of treatment and the housing that she gets from the man who lives in the small cabin she comes across.

      I’m largely enraptured by the driving force behind her actions and the elements. Especially the elements. It feels straight out of a Grimm fairy tale. We simply haven’t gotten to the part where we reveal the big bad.

      I genuinely have no critiques for this one. It is paced incredibly well, expertly character driven, the tension is as thick as fog, and there is this mystery hanging above all of it. I am sufficiently hooked, and I honestly cannot wait to read more from this, should you choose to continue. Thank you so much for writing and sharing it.

    2. jesse fisher Avatar
      jesse fisher

      I like how the story moved from cursing god to a lady sleeping in a hay. The shift in tone goes from man vs nature to man vs man to man vs self. It was a nice journey and love the world building here. I have the questions, like what is the tech level of this world. Ruined house and running messenger, seems Incan or Greek but that is my crazy though.

    3. i-prefer-the-term-antihero Avatar
      i-prefer-the-term-antihero

      Oooh!! I get to read about Serennia this week!! How cool!!

      Man, I really love the atmosphere you create in this. Everything feels so sensory, and even the more poetic parts somehow only serve to ground it further. I can almost feel the wind and the rain and the cold as I read this. And all the comparisons are engaging and effective in this too. Fabulous job!!

      “During the day, the sun is kind enough to follow a pattern, constantly reminding you of just how much more time you had together.”
      –Love this image/personification.

      “When her feet felt like they were about to rebel against her, she noticed salvation in the distance. A meager, run down farmhouse that looked to be surviving the storm about as well as she was. It wasn’t much, but even the smallest morsel looks like a feast when you’re starving.”
      -I especially liked this paragraph. Starts with a personification, middles with an evocative comparison, and ends with a great metaphor.

      “The full truth would only get her turned away.”
      –Hmm I’m curious now.

      “The shivering had robbed her of any more than that.”
      –I like this.

      “The hay scratched every inch of exposed skin she had, and the grain did nothing to soften the hard ground underneath.”
      –I feel uncomfortable just reading it. Well done!!

      “It wasn’t much, but it was, perhaps, all that she deserved.”
      –Hmm…sounds like homegirl doesn’t value herself very highly. Which is sad. But also makes me curious why.

      Wonderful job!! I’m even more curious about Serennia than I already was!!

  3. jesse fisher Avatar
    jesse fisher

    This is not my home
    By Jesse Fisher

    The creaking of the rotting wood would instill worry in any that stepped into this place. Many would call such a place a hazard, or a disaster waiting to happen. They are ignorant to the warmth of a place like this, a building lasting longer than some family lines.

    No, this was a place where hats are hung and bundled up in a nice blanket. To live in memories made in life, and those beyond.

    Where rust is not a thing to hate, but a piece of history. To show that they were used and life was here, but others would just call it a ruin. The leaks and creaks were a charm that many would condom to a problem that would spell an end to a home. But this place was perfect as it was nothing short of a history that others would forget as time went on.

    Time would move on for them, but not this house. No matter what happened beyond its walls the house did not change. No matter the fall of the night or the baking of the sun, this was a home that stood through it all. The piles of misplaced things added to the lived in look.

    That would be until a pile shook as a dusted and dented blue robot with a cracked yellow light began to rise. It looked at the house with confusion and fear. No eyes could be seen from it but the motions were clear to be looking for something.

    Bolting from the house it did not know of the sunken eyes that followed it before the whistling began to form on the wind.

    1. First off, Toa, I like the title. Secondly, this line ~They are ignorant to the warmth of a place like this, a building lasting longer than some family lines.~ is REALLY good!

      Also, there is a very timeless, for lack of a more adequate word, atmosphere about this particular story. You do a really great job of painting how this house is forgotten and how it’s laying in ruin. I could feel the time slipping by the house, yet it remaining in stoic silence and darkness. It’s actually quite poetic and sad.

      I feel really sad for the robot. I am curious to know if it lived there when the house was more bright and accommodating. Perhaps it was left within the ruin after it fell into disrepair? Quite a mysterious element.

      I’m also quite intrigued as to how the robot is going to react to the world after being lost within the house. Unless this is his origin story, and the world of ash and dust that you’ve been describing in your previous stories about him are connected. Also, what are the sunken eyes that are following him? Are they detached or connected to something? If so, who or what?

      Critiques:

      The leaks and creaks were a charm that many would condom (condone) to a problem that would spell an end to a home.

      The piles of misplaced things added to the lived in (lived-in) look.

      Also, you switch from present tense to past tense. It isn’t jarring; I just wanted to know if that was intentional. It actually works for this story.

      Please take these critiques with a grain of salt. They are tiny, surface level things in the grand scope of your story. There is an incredible amount of intrigue, and I’m just really struck by the vividness of the imagery that you’ve written. Honestly, the story feels almost Gothic to me. The robot feels as destitute as the house, but unlike the house, the robot can move and has some sentience. He doesn’t have to stay in despair and disrepair. I just really honestly love this story, dude.

      If I may be so bold, and not offend, this is the best written story I’ve read from you so far. Not just in terms of technicality and grammar and punctuation, but also from the elements and the atmosphere you’ve infused here. It’s really amazing. I’m super proud of you, and I hope to read more. Thank you for writing and sharing this!

  4. Matthew(Handsome Johanson) Avatar
    Matthew(Handsome Johanson)

    The Internet Man
    by Matthew (Handsome Johanson)
    Sure I’ve had my run-ins with jerks and malcontents, but for the most part I can’t really complain. Instead of this concrete outside force pushing me away, I have this never-ending nebulous pressure coming from deep within myself. This something is pushing from deep within my soul, pointing to the horrifying fact that despite my friends and family, I still don’t belong in a society.

    I get back home from a night out with friends and immediately retreat to the internet. This place, full of every culture, every interest, every type of person, feels more like home than anything in the real world ever could. I immediately begin browsing through the various sites I hit up everyday. Checking post’s likes, replying to comments, checking video performance, responding to a dumb meme in discord, I was on my usual route when I stopped in my tracks.

    I had unthinkingly clicked an ad, and my screen immediately went dark. I stare at it for a moment, before panickingly trying to reset the computer. When I look back at the screen, it is glowing. And, in an instant I felt myself lose consciousness.

    When I awake, I am very clearly not in my room anymore. I look around, and only see a single person in a sea of static. As I approach him, he addresses me.

    “Hello. I am the computer man.” He does a little dance. “I am your friend.”

    “Uhhhh sure. What is this place?”

    “This is the internet. Would you like to explore it with me?”

    “No.”

    “…are you sure?”

    “Ugh, fine. Come along.”

    1. Holy digital upload, Batman! This is a darkly fun story, Matty. I believe it highlights man’s need to connect by disconnecting from reality. A tragic irony. I’m not sure if that was your intention, but that is definitely how I interpreted it.

      I love that you describe the different ways the person browses and consumes the information. It’s like they are toggling it because at this point, it’s like a compulsion. And if they don’t do it, then they don’t feel complete or they become anxious. So I feel it only makes sense that they are uploaded into the internet. I especially enjoy that they got their via a link. Highly appropriate.

      Critique:

      I immediately begin browsing through the various sites I hit up everyday (every day).

      This is the only critique I have. I do like that the person’s boredom pops out of the end. That combined with the internet man doing a little dance brings a bit of levity to it. I honestly can see this as being a horror comedy. Like horrific things happen, but it is offset by some really fabulous shenanigans and slapstick. I am always heartwarmed or touched by your stories. They are definitely some of the most wholesome among the group. And as always, I am delighted to see what you have next. Thank you so much for writing and sharing this.

    2. jesse fisher Avatar
      jesse fisher

      I’m going to que up the Freakazoid theme for this. Also like the ad is the gateway to the net, cause no one clicks on the ads. Wait…oh no not the carnival music, he’s coming. You need to run.

      Love the story and like some ‘self insert’ stories.

  5. The Newcomer
    by Lunabear

    Pale streaks of orange and pink coalesced on the horizon. A few stars dotted the sky. Warm wind whistled through high treetops.

    A little girl skipped along, white pigtails bouncing, as her parents walked the quiet suburban sidewalk.

    “I still don’t understand why we have to visit EVERY time someone new moves here.” She made a sour face.

    “It’s polite, Krista,” her mother explained.

    “It lets the person know that they’re welcome,” her father added.

    Krista shrugged with a sigh.

    The house came into view. The small porch was crowded with gifts similar to what Krista’s mother held.

    Once at the door, Krista’s father rang the bell. They heard the chime echo throughout the interior.

    A distant owl hooted.

    One neighbor walking their dog waved hello.

    “Maybe they’re not home?” Krista offered hopefully.

    As if on cue, the door opened without a sound.

    Krista squeaked and bolted behind her parents.

    A voice glided from the narrow darkness.

    “Hello.”

    It had the hypnotic pull of ocean waves with a hint of a rasp.

    “Oh, hello! I’m Kiara, and this is my husband Keith and our daughter Krista.”

    “Mr. Montgomery.” A hitch. “Oh, my. What a lovely little doll. Was she born this way? To the both of you?”

    Kiara gave a breathy gasp.

    Keith’s smile faltered. “Of course. Why wouldn’t she have been?”

    “My apologies. I did not mean to offend. I am simply unaccustomed to seeing anyone with her combination of features.”

    Krista looked from her dark-skinned hand up to her parents in confusion. She peeked around her father’s legs to peer deeper into the blackness but could see nothing else.

    Kiara placed the gift next to the others with a scowl.

    “Well, assumptions won’t get you far here, sir,” Keith provided.

    “I was merely curious–”

    “I WOULD say it was nice meeting you, IF it were still true. Good night, Mr. Montgomery.” Kiara stalked away, head high and shoulders back.

    “Kiara, wait!” Keith took Krista’s hand and hurried after his wife.

    He was…curious?

    Krista looked back, and a gloved hand waved from the doorway.

    1. Constella Avatar
      Constella

      Ooo, this is wonderfully spooky. I love that it just starts out as a family being kind, and slowly builds to something else. I’m so curious, who was in the house? Is there something to Krista that makes her different, or is it just Mr. Montgomery’s perception? This is so good, and very mysteriously written. Amazing job!

      1. Thank you for the review! I’m really glad you enjoyed the atmosphere. If future prompts allow me, you will come to find that Mr. Montgomery is a man of many mysteries.

        If I’m honest, it’s more from his perception of her. He finds intrigued and beauty in some of the strangest, and most innocent, things.

        Again, I thank you for your review, and I’m very glad that you enjoyed it!

    2. Gerrit (Rattus) Avatar
      Gerrit (Rattus)

      This was so interesting! I have so many questions about this new neighbour of there’s I feel like there’s a lot to him below the surface. I liked seeing Krista switching from the confident boredom of someone being dragged to do something, to the sudden anxiousness of having to meet a complete stranger. The description of the man’s voice was really interesting, I felt like I could hear exactly what how he sounded in my head!

      1. Thank you so much for your review and feedback! It makes me positively giddy to not only have someone point out Krista’s switch in behavior, but also that it was natural due to circumstances.

        I’m also really happy that you like Mr. Montgomery’s voice. It took me a while to settle on what it should be. I wanted it to match the mysterious allure he has. Happy as well to see that that came out pretty well. Any questions you have, feel free to ask. I will do my best to answer them in later installments. Thank you again!

    3. Lari B. Haven Avatar
      Lari B. Haven

      This one has a really mysterious vibe to it. It made questions so many things about the neighborhood, Krista’s parentes, Mr. Montegomery and Krista herself.
      What is so different about her, that made her parents mad at Montgomery? Is Mr, Montgomery genuine curious, or theres a hint of prejudice and malice in this exchance?
      I can’t help but wonder, what kinda things brew under the hood.
      I can’t wait to read more about Luna, it was really interesting!

      1. Awwww! Thank you so much for your review, Lari! I’m very glad that the mysterious vibe is well received and not perceived as overdone.

        It’s not Krista herself that’s so different, but how Mr. Montgomery perceives her. It’s something within her that he sees. I hope to explore that a lot more in future installments.

        Her parents got upset because 1.) They assumed he was being racist towards her. While Keith and Kiara have experienced prejudice for being black, Krista hasn’t. That’s why they had such vitriolic, fast reactions. 2.) Mr. Montgomery unintentionally questioned the fidelity of their marriage. It was difficult for him to wrap his head around them having a child who looks like Krista.

        I can say for a certainty that Mr. Montgomery is genuinely curious.

        I cannot wait to explore this particular arc a lot more. It’s going to get a little crazy. And maybe also some sads. Thank you again for your review! I’m very glad you enjoyed it.

    4. I have already done a readthrough to give you some feedback, and I’m going to do so again. This was a very powerful story to me the first time I read it. Mr. Montgomery seems like such an unusual person, and I’m wondering what mysteries are in his house, and what he is planning on doing now that he’s here. But moreso, unintentional or not, I really felt the racial undertones of this story. Whether he means to be, whether that he’s perceived as such, whether you meant for it to read that way, his reaction to Krista, and Kiara’s reaction to his words hit me. I’m not sure how I should feel toward him. It might just be innocent, but naively insensitive on his part, but I have so many red flags about him.
      Needless to say, I want to see more. This was so good.

    5. RVMPLSTLTSKN Avatar
      RVMPLSTLTSKN

      Tagback!

      You’ve really been working on your scene structure and I can tell you it’s paying off! The effect of Montgomery’s words provides a clear shift in the tale and will drives the next scene or sequence as well. Really potent stuff!

      My one critique is that I’m a bit lost. Montgomery’s words seem to imply that he’s either socially awkward or Krista might be an illegitimate child. The only cue we get was “her dark-skinned hand,” but there’s no description of her parents and the only other visual description is Krista’s white hair and Montgomery’s hand. (I’m aware of certain mythologies wherein white hair denotes magical ability, but I’m not sure if that’s what you’re going for.)

      This is a great scene, Luna! I think it needs a second part or a bit more exposition, but it’s still a solid scene! Great work.

  6. A Holiday Invitation
    By MasaCur

    It started with a simple question.

    “What are you doing for Christmas?” Andrew asked, his tone nonchalant.

    Cassidy frowned. She hadn’t thought very much about Christmas. “I haven’t any plans. The last few years, I’ve spent it with my regiment, but now that I’ve been discharged for the crime of being a woman…” She could feel the bitterness of her words bubbling up in her throat as she spoke.

    Andrew paused for several awkward moments before speaking again. “No family, I take it?”

    Cassidy shook her head. “My father has made it clear that he no longer wishes me in his life. So, no.”

    Andrew tried to give her what Cassidy assumed was his warmest smile. “I’d like to invite you over for dinner this year.”

    “Why would you do that?”

    Andrew sighed. “Because you’re my partner. I’m not going to trust you with my life, and then let you spend the holiday alone.”

    “You don’t have to do me any favours, Andrew.”

    Another sigh. “It won’t be any trouble. I bought the smallest goose I could find, and it will still be too much for just me. Please, I would very much like you to come for dinner.”

    Cassidy’s bitterness started to evaporate. After everything that she’d endured the last few months, she had given up hope that anyone would offer her any kindness.

    A thought occurred to Cassidy as she pondered Andrew’s invitation. “No one to spend the Yuletide with either?”

    Andrew smiled grimly. “Umm, no. Mother died some time ago. Father’s been dead for three years now.”

    A smile slowly spread across Cassidy’s lips. “Very well, I accept.”

    ——–

    Cassidy stood in front of the door to Andrew’s flat, feeling uncertain about having accepted Andrew’s invitation. She hesitantly knocked on the door.

    “Just a second!” Andrew’s voice called from inside the flat. Within seconds, he opened the door. A flood of delicious aromas overtook Cassidy.

    “Merry Christmas,” she said. “I brought some whiskey.” Cassidy held out a bottle wrapped in brown paper.

    “Merry Christmas to you as well, Cassidy. Please, won’t you come in?”

    1. I am always down to see Cassidy and Andrew. This is a very sweet and heartwarming story, Mas! I don’t even care if it’s nowhere near Christmas yet for either America or Canada.

      I appreciate that Andrew favors Cassidy so highly that he doesn’t want her to spend the holiday alone. That is like one of the sweetest things a person can do for another person. I also love that he tells her out right that they are partners, and that he’s not going to enjoy himself if she can’t. I love their dynamic and appreciate their partnership and love for each other so very much

      It’s also got a tragic spin to it because none of them have any family to spend the holiday with, for one reason or another, and I hate that the regiment is incredibly sexist towards Cassidy. I understand that it was back in the day, but injustices need to be called out when noted.

      But I genuinely don’t have any critiques of the story. Overall, I just seriously love it. It is a straightforward, wholesome story. Please write more. Thank you for writing and sharing this one.

    2. Constella Avatar
      Constella

      This story, I love it so much. It’s a wonderfully cute story that exudes Christmas spirit, and I love how you describe Cassidy slowly warming up to the idea of being with someone else. My favourite line is “Cassidy’s bitterness started to evaporate.”

      I like the bit of awkwardness at the end too, as if she wasn’t exactly sure what to bring as a gift!

      Amazing job 🧡

    3. Calliope Rannis Avatar
      Calliope Rannis

      Awww, this was a very sweet and warming story indeed. I remember these characters from previous stories too, though I don’t know if this is earlier or later in the timeline than most of them. Possibly earlier, considering it seems like Cassidy just came out publically as trans to various people, and it didn’t go well? It’s really awful when someone takes a very brave step like that (assuming it was something intended, and not an accident), and it all just goes wrong for them.

      It’s pretty clear that she’s gotten naturally defensive against being hurt again – it took Andrew insisting twice on the kind gesture for Cassidy to accept that the kindness might be genuine. It’s also really nice that two people who would otherwise be completely alone on christmas, actually get to have a happier time together instead. <3

      Also, I am not suprised that Cassidy brought whisky, if my memory of previous stories are correct. XD Seems like it's not overshadowing the good time here, yet at least.

      Great work Masa! ^w^

  7. Calliope Rannis Avatar
    Calliope Rannis

    Virterior Decoration (Corespace Universe)
    By Calliope Rannis

    At first, there was light.

    Then, a blue sky, and a green lawn beneath his feet.

    Finally, with a shimmer of gathering lights, an elegant golden-haired woman flashed into existence, gently floating a little above the grass. She turned to him, smiled brightly and clapped her hands together. “So! Where shall we start, Clay?”

    “Where?” He replied, looking around at the green, flat landscape surrounding him in confusion. “It all looks the same. I guess I don’t mind?”

    She blinked. “Oh, no, I was speaking metaphorically.” Freya floated close to him, taking his hand in hers. “What I meant was: How should we go about designing your virtual house? Because there are frankly almost infinite possibilities for designing these, and I’d love to know what your initial preferences are.”

    “Ah, right.” He nodded and tried to think, though he was a little distracted by the warm fuzziness he was feeling. It was always so sweet of her to never judge or tease him when he did something stupid, like taking a sentence too literally again –

    “Clay?” She lightly squeezed his hand. “You okay? We can do this another time.”

    He stood up straighter and shook his head, smiling warmly back at her. “Oh, it’s not a problem, we can do this now. Maybe you could show me some examples?”

    She nodded. “Sure, I can do that!” Freya waved her hand towards the empty field, as a large 2-storey farmhouse rose into existence.

    “Woah.”

    “This is just a template, if you like it we can modify everything later.” She turned back to him. “I figured you would though. You came from an agricultural colony world after all, and your old home must have been something like this.” She tilted her head and grinned. “We could make this into a home away from home?”

    Clay looked deep into her eyes, and responded almost without thinking: “Freya, you ARE my home.”

    Her eyes softened. “Oh…” she said, a pink blush filling her shining cheeks. “Technically, I’m a lot of people’s homes.”

    “I was speaking metaphorically.” He replied, before embracing her with a kiss.

    1. Oh, Calliope! 2 weeks in a row of Clay and Freya?! You spoil us, madame! This is incredibly adorable and so heartwarming!

      I genuinely love the buildup. I love it when you do conversations like this and you let the setting and the characters speak for themselves. Definitely felt like I was there with them. Their endearment towards each other is also beautiful.

      Even though they have spent lots of time together, buying a house usually indicates a really huge step in the relationship.

      I love your stories overall, but there is something about the way you portray romance that really just hits me right in the chest area. It’s a sweeter, softer, more vulnerable side that isn’t often displayed these days, unfortunately. I hope you continue to write about these two because they are so wonderful and just the sweetest. Thank you so very much for writing and sharing this.

    2. i-prefer-the-term-antihero Avatar
      i-prefer-the-term-antihero

      I love this!! This story definitely made it to my host’s choice list this week!! Mostly based on your unique take on the prompt but kind of everything XD

      I love that this sorta feels like a continuation of last week’s story, and it feels both equally cute, and equally an expert subversive take of the prompt, as last week’s.Using the prompt to mean a home that’s virtual is so delightful and creative!! I love it.

      I love how freya somehow manages to capture salesperson, computer-being, girlfriend, and being-that-is-already-his-home all at once in her dialogue XD

      “He nodded and tried to think, though he was a little distracted by the warm fuzziness he was feeling. It was always so sweet of her to never judge or tease him when he did something stupid, like taking a sentence too literally again –”
      –Top tier squee XD

      “You okay? We can do this another time.”
      He stood up straighter and shook his head, smiling warmly back at her. “Oh, it’s not a problem, we can do this now.”
      –I’m very curious about this. This is the only part of the story that feels sorta unanswered by the end. It seems like he might genuinely have some sort of reservation, but I really can’t tell what it is. I guess that could depend on how you read it though. He did say he was distracted so it might not have been negative.

      “This is just a template, if you like it we can modify everything later.”
      –Feels so perfectly computer-y, but also…I’d love to be able to do this with a house XD

      “You came from an agricultural colony world after all, and your old home must have been something like this.”
      –Curious about this.

      “Clay looked deep into her eyes, and responded almost without thinking: “Freya, you ARE my home.”
      Her eyes softened. “Oh…” she said, a pink blush filling her shining cheeks. “Technically, I’m a lot of people’s homes.”
      “I was speaking metaphorically.” He replied, before embracing her with a kiss.”
      –This whole interaction is just A++ Every line it keeps getting better!! They play off each other so well.
      I’m curious, was Freya’s blush genuine? (Like a genuine unconscious reaction) Or was it kind of a “That’s cute. I should let him know I think that’s cute by engaging my blushing protocol” XD

      I loved this so much!! Fantastic job!!

  8. Glaceon373 Avatar
    Glaceon373

    Escapism
    by Carrie (Glaceon373) (cw: angst)

    I clicked the headphone plug into the audio port, savoring the sound.

    That simple sound, so mundane and yet so entrancing. It was a wonderful sound, as wonderful as it was boring. I clicked it a few more times. I couldn’t help but smile a little bit. I blinked in rhythm with the noise, my eyelashes sticking together slightly.

    No, don’t think about that. Think about the clicks. The sounds. Nothing but the sounds.

    I left the plug in the audio port and turned on my phone. The press of the power button was another lovely little normal sound. I gave it a few more presses, which made me smile again.

    These sounds barely made it through my bulky noise canceling headphones. I was glad nothing else did.

    The music app was already open. It was most of the time, really. Not surprisingly, honestly. It didn’t make noises when I scrolled through playlists and albums—which made sense, of course.

    I picked a synthwave playlist I’d made last week and hit shuffle, losing myself in the new sounds. These weren’t like the clicking from before. These were music, deliberately created by a musician to create a desired effect. I wasn’t a musician. I was barely even an artist. I could be painting now, but the easel was five feet away from me, standing, holding an empty canvas.

    I was sprawled out on the floor, holding a phone with what felt like a million unread texts I just didn’t have the energy for. I didn’t have the energy to read through every “Fuschia, I’m sorry” or “Fuschia, just know that I’m here for you” or whatever else had been building up over the past week.

    I didn’t have the energy for anything.

    Anything except this.

    This wasn’t scary. This was the only not-scary thing. Other people might think it scary that my volume was so high it could damage my ears, but that wasn’t scary to me.

    Everything else was scary. But this was safe.

    1. RVMPLSTLTSKN Avatar
      RVMPLSTLTSKN

      Tagback!

      This is a lovely piece, Carrie! I’m a sucker for mundane pieces and you used a lovely, teasing technique on this one: that satisfactory feeling of small clicks and taps, turned up to an oddity, and then the finisher: the recent sorrow she’s hiding from.

      Your word choices were flawless for this piece too. You did have one typo (“I binked in time”) but it’s a minor thing.

      Great job!

    2. Carrie, I love the story. Although, I will admit that it gave me anxiety a little bit, but I think only because it was anxiety by proxy. You did a fabulous job of getting the reader inside the protagonist’s head. I honestly just want to hug her.

      I love the way you handle exposition in the story. Fuchsia has this little voice that kind of clashes in a way. Yes, she has this talent and these hobbies, but the energy that she has doesn’t match motivation.

      I also feel for Fuchsia. Something really traumatic, I’m assuming, happened to her, and she is now receding into herself. I’m going to be honest with you: the way in which you describe her actions is honestly me during my own panic attacks, and when I’m experiencing anxiety. The hypersensitivity to sound and the simultaneous hyper focus on it. Shutting yourself away from the world so that you can have your own little bubble of self and self interests.

      This isn’t on you, but when you mentioned the phone having about a million unread text messages, I wondered how she had the strength to hold it if it was that heavy. I’m so sorry.

      So when the world gets too overwhelming for her, she has a place to go. Her home. With her music and her own safety net and her own sort of peace. Definitely one of the most relatable stories from this week’s submissions. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Can’t wait to see what you write next time. Thank you so much for writing and sharing this one.

  9. i-prefer-the-term-antihero Avatar
    i-prefer-the-term-antihero

    The Piper is Calling (The Ballad of the Monsters: Peter)
    By i-prefer-the-term-antihero

    The boy held his thin blanket close to his bruised body, shaking.

    This house always creaked and groaned; it was old and unsuitable for child rearing. But this was a different creak: footsteps, growing, growling closer, like some hungry beast.

    He’d learned to dread the sounds of the night.

    But they stopped, and a sound he only heard in dreams followed: the sweet music of a pipe.

    He chanced his luck, journeying to the window, still huddled in his blanket. Letting the wind brush about his face, he searched for the player.

    When the music tapered off, he felt a longing in his soul, like it was reaching out to grasp the end of the music, make it replay.

    “Did I wake you?” A young boy was looking at him upside down at the window.

    He shrieked.

    “Before you ask”—The boy jumped down, landing on the windowsill—“Name: Peter Pan. Occupation: Saving lost boys such as yourself.”

    “Wh-Huh?!”

    “You’ve never heard of Peter Pan!” He gasped over-dramatically, and turned as if someone was standing next to him to share in his shock.

    That “someone” was his shadow…moving of its own accord.

    “So! What am I offering?” Peter jumped, but didn’t land. “You,”—Peter poked his chest—“A home in…”

    Suddenly his room transformed, and though he stood on solid ground, they were floating above a beautiful island.

    “Neverland!”

    The shadow offered him popcorn, as Peter showed him attractions all over this “Neverland.” At the end the shadow silently clapped. Peter floated up to him, his hand on his chin.

    “Any questions?”

    He observed the ending scene: a group of boys smiling and playing games together.

    “…You were playing the pipe.”

    Peter pulled out said pipe, tossing it in the air. “Sometimes I think it plays me.”

    The boy’s eyes fell.

    Like with the pipe, he felt a longing in his soul. But, like with everything else…he knew real life could never be that amazing.

    ”What’s the catch?”

    Peter tipped his chin to make him look at him, a slight smile curving his lip; a world of mischief and mystery.

    “You’ll never grow up.”

    1. This story is pure voodoo, Antihero, and I am willingly ensnared! You always seem to have so much fun writing your stories, no matter the context.

      I really appreciate the dark tone in regards to the boy. It’s very subtle, but you can definitely say that he is being abused. I love that the shadow gets some time in this, and I love the magic. It’s so amazing, and the way you describe everything so vividly puts me right there with the characters.

      I am curious as to how Peter finds the boys directly. Is there like some kind of sense he puts out when he plays his pipe that allows him to find the lost boys? Or does the shadow have a hand in it, too?

      This far into the lore, and I am still awestruck by how you mixed the Pied Piper with Peter Pan, and give it such depth while also retaining like that magical, sad quality of Peter Pan and the horror and mystery of the Pied Piper. Really fantastic.

      Your stories always manage to be a favorite of mine each week. As always, I am excited to see more. Thank you so much for writing and sharing this.

    2. Lari B. Haven Avatar
      Lari B. Haven

      Oooh I like how you was alble to tip on what sometimes makes Peter Pan, both exciting and dangerous.

      I like the detail of Peter playing the pipe which kinda hammers home the mensage that this deal comes with a drawback. Peter almost play the Devil”s role in this exchange. Even though the boy get the chance to live free of everything that hurt him, is never growing up really somenthing the boy really wants to give up?
      Even if there is no foul play in the end, you can help but wonder if Peter’s promises are trully as pure as they seems to be.
      Great work Anti!

    3. Gerrit (Rattus) Avatar
      Gerrit (Rattus)

      I should have known you would use your Peter Pan retelling for this prompt, it fits so perfectly! And I do love me some dark retellings of children’s stories, as this one appears to be judging by Peter’s mischievous smile at the end.

      Reading this was really fun, it had a good amount of wonder and whimsy, balanced out by the hints of darker and more chaotic things under the surface. I really like that the beginning said so much about the child’s life and home situation without actually saying much at all. Well done!

    4. RVMPLSTLTSKN Avatar
      RVMPLSTLTSKN

      I see you’re getting more comfortable with colons! 😀

      The use of the Shadow as an avatar of doubt and uncanniness is a great foil to Peter’s high promises in this piece. It’s both wondrously magical on the surface and darkly horrifying beneath, but that aspect comes with a deeper understanding of it’s character.

      Good work!

    5. Calliope Rannis Avatar
      Calliope Rannis

      It’s really interesting to see your version of Peter ‘on duty’ so to speak! I feel like the majority of his stories so far have been glimpses behind that veil he presents to the lost boys, so seeing it from an outside perspective is a neat change.

      The starting parts of the scene were rather heartwrenching, especially on a second read with a clearer understanding of the context. It’s pretty clear that this boy had a pretty miserable life – already perhaps ‘lost’, before Peter Pan had anything to do with it.

      And it was rather amusing to see Peter and the Shadow play off of each other like a marketing duo, even with scenic footage of Neverland and popcorn! It’s very playful, as you’d expect – after all, the darkness only really comes home at the end of a Lost Boy’s stay.

      I wonder how flippant or meaningful the line ‘Sometimes I think it plays me.’ is – is it just Peter being whimsical, or does the pipe itself have its own compelling power, even on Peter himself?

      It is very sad, to have a young boy already so down in his circumstances that he already isn’t open to the idea of the wonder that Peter offers. And in a way, he knows from the start what the catch is to this livelihood. But at the same time, if he *really* knew, he probably wouldn’t take the offer, would he?

      Another great story Anti, well done! <3

  10. Lari B. Haven Avatar
    Lari B. Haven

    The farmhouse (The Agency)
    By Larissa (Lari B. Haven)

    Agent Romeo came to oversee the transfer after they had left the Agency’s building. She needed to be sure that K and the child would be safe from now on.

    “You should name them, K,” Agent Romeo leaned against the doorframe of the decrepit farmhouse. “The DNA says it’s female. So I think something like Sierra, or Juliette.”

    “You say this like I have any choice in the matter,” he growled through his teeth, moving the boxes around. “It is not human, name it yourself.”

    Romeo glanced at him. “Come on, K, names create attachment. I named you, remember?”

    “I bet the high command has plans for whatever this thing is.” He threw a box of toddler clothes out of the way. “I don’t want to play house with it. I’d rather die in this farmhouse than let them possess me again.”

    Romeo kicked a little cobblestone out of the front door and looked at the child running in the field. If she was completely human, living on a farm would be an idyllic childhood experience. But she was not. She had cleared floors full of guards and killed several agents in the headquarters, because they dared to hurt K. She had something she couldn’t control, and innocently had condemned one of Romeo’s best agents to serve as her surrogate father.

    “She is just a child. And you were one like her,” Romeo grabbed the box and handed it back to him. “You won’t be a prisoner of hers forever. Just give me some time, K. I’ll figure it out.”

    Romeo’s empty promises did not satisfy K. But it was all she could offer him at the moment.

    The child came back from playing and jumped into K’s arms. “Daddy, catch me!”

    “Hey little one, liking here so far?” Romeo smiled. “It’s you and your dad’s home now.”

    “Everything for the sake of The Agency, right?” K replied with sarcasm.

    The helicopter arrived and Agent Romeo gave a last good look at the accidental family she had put together. “By the way, she really looks like Juliette, to me.”

    1. I enjoy witness protection stories. This one is fantastic, Lari. Even though I’m not super familiar with this particular world, I came out of this feeling extremely sentimental. I love how no one in this particular setting is at fault for the circumstances that they all have to endure. Romeo has her orders to follow; K is apprehensive and understandably prejudiced against the little girl; and the little girl is an innocent, despite her inability to control this power that she has. It’s astounding that you manage to capture so much character and emotion in such a short space.

      I love the dynamic. It’s incredibly sweet, but there is more sinister things happening in the background. I honestly want to hug everyone, and I’m curious about all of them, but I especially want to get to know more about K. He seems ripe for the digging.

      Don’t think I didn’t notice that Romeo and Juliette that you put in there. I laughed out loud when Romeo suggested that be the little girl’s name. I am also enticed by the bond that K and the little girl share.

      I don’t know how you do it, but you always manage to leave me feeling emotional with your stories. I am beyond stoked to see what you write next. Thank you so much for writing and sharing this.

    2. RVMPLSTLTSKN Avatar
      RVMPLSTLTSKN

      Tagback!

      Your dialogue is really good in this piece, Lari! The characters really shine through their words and interaction.

      I’m not sure if K and Romeo are a couple. It’s not quite clear in this piece if he’s her handler or spouse or ex.

      My main critique is the child’s pronouns. You refer to “Juliette” as she, it, them and the child. While there’s nothing wrong with any of these, using all of them in the same short piece can be confusing.

      Good job!

  11. A promise
    By Clanso

    Shimmer felt something tug at her consciousness. She allowed it to pull her attention away from the highest peak, where she could have an eye on everything going on on the island at once, down to the harbor where a small group of Islanders had gathered around a just returned ship.
    Two familiar men had just stepped on the pier. Had she not known everyone who lived on the island, she could still have identified them by the power of her sibling clinging to them like a faint mist. What had attracted her attention however was one of them holding the hand of someone she did not recognize. On the surface they appeared as a human child wearing their parents’ clothing but underneath that they too had an air of familiar power about them…

    “What have you done?” Shimmer whispered, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.

    “I did what you would have done” her sibling answered from far away. “I gave a lost soul a home.”

    “But they’re one of his! Don’t you understand?! Everything he creates comes from darkness!”

    “We can keep them away from him if you let them stay. Your people will teach them to be kind, and that kindness will make them strong enough to defy him when the day comes. It’s the only way.”

    “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

    Shimmer looked at the small figure hiding behind their favorite humans’ leg. At heart they were like a child. She couldn’t send away a child already hunted by their maker. No. This one would stay.

    She reached out despite her fear, touched their head and spoke the words:

    “I, the Island of Shimmer, welcome you-who-stands-on-my-shore into my safe haven. From this day on you’re protected within my borders and no one who means you harm, man, god or spirit can follow.”

    They looked up at her with six wide eyes and offered her something they’d clutched in their hand. She smiled back and accepted a small sea shell.

    “Thank you” the island whispered.
    “You’re home now.”

    1. The idea of an island being sentient is incredibly brilliant, Claire! The way everything flows naturally is really great. Everything was incredibly easy to read while still retaining a bit of mystery with the conversation between the siblings.

      I will say that I am curious as to if the island manifested itself into a human shape for the little being’s benefit. It would also appear that the arriving sibling has taken over the body of a child. At least, that’s how I’m reading it. The soul migrated into the child for perhaps the child’s safety? I seriously would love to read more about this world and the characters. The ending definitely evokes a sense of sweetness, and I certainly smiled.

      You also describe everything enough for it to breathe. I definitely feel like I was there. I think this is the first time I’ve ever read anything that you’ve written, and I love it. I am incredibly fascinated by it, and I’m looking forward to more. Thank you so much for writing and sharing this.

  12. RVMPLSTLTSKN Avatar
    RVMPLSTLTSKN

    Homecoming
    By RVMPLSTLTSKN (The Saga of The Deep One’s Wake)

    Klajonas had complicated feelings about Sostine. The city’s architecture was both beautiful and mean. The high temples and mudbrick houses were her playground when she was younger. Despite the swelling population in recent years, she found on her return that the city had an abandoned look. Though inhabited now, the temples were infrequently repaired, and never skillfully.

    She had seen enough dead cities to know Sostine had escaped its own fate.

    Is this my home, she thought. This city is a paltry thing.

    She had brought many people to the city. Survivors and their children. Between herself and Mazylas, her parents enjoyed a rich clutch of grandchildren, but there were more. It was to take in sometimes. How many people there were. There were some families she bore no relation to, and that more than anything else made her feel like an outsider. Disconnected.

    The city gates were not guarded, the wide arches open to the people. She passed under them and smelled that dogs still ran the streets. She wondered if the guineas lived too.

    Next to her, a young girl walked, wide-eyed. Klajonas had found her wandering, been drawn to her maybe. She had become aware of certain ethereal things growing in the last couple years. Coincidence never really was, for her.

    Klajonas was taking her to her father’s house, the temple with a library. She would leave the girl there, in the sombre and quiet halls where Klajonas herself grew up. It had been a long four decades since she first left the temple and wandered.

    Padas met her at the temple door. Not the big door, Klajonas never wanted to make a scene, but the small door where she had seen him fight off dogs more than once. Coincidence, perhaps.

    She smirked, “Father.”

    “Daughter.” His gaze was off, looking over her shoulder, but his eyes were still sharp. “Who is this?”

    “niekas.” No one.

    Padas frowned.

    “She has no one. She needs a father.”

    The thought unbidden, Perhaps she could take my place.

    “Come in,” Padas said. “I hope you intend to stay awhile.”

    “Always, Father.”

    1. Glaceon373 Avatar
      Glaceon373

      RVMPL, I really like the tone of this piece. Your descriptions of Sostine are incredibly immersive, which was very cool to read. I also liked the dialogue at the end for its simplicity. There were a few strange phrasing moments that I still don’t understand, namely “Coincidence never really was, for her” but despite all that, I still really enjoyed this piece, RVMPL. Great job!

    2. Lari B. Haven Avatar
      Lari B. Haven

      This story has a little of a bittersweet undertone to it. And I really like it.
      At the same time it paints such a vivid scenario of the city, regaining the few people that were lost since the gods perished. It’s the home she left once, and ocasionaly retuns to bring other lost ones, yet Klajonas never feels truly at home.
      But there is a warmt in her return. Her father and daughter relationship still exists, and reading you can still feel their bond.
      Great story!

    3. Gerrit (Rattus Avatar
      Gerrit (Rattus

      This was good, I liked the contrast in the beginning of the high temple and mudbrick houses. I think you did a really good job of describing the feel of the city, as opposed to just the look of it. I also like the idea of Klajonas sort of outgrowing the city, then coming back and looking at everything through a new lens. I’m curious to see if the little girl that Klajonas brings to Padas ends up playing a larger role later on down the line. (My apologies if you’ve already shown that and I just didn’t realize)

    4. Drake, there’s always so much happening in the background of your stories. It is mysterious and intriguing. I appreciate that you show how disconnected Klajonas is from her home, then confirm it later. And I love that we get some backstory on where niekas came from.

      Circling back around to the disconnect for a moment, is she recalls things with a codeine difference. And I believe that she has brought the child back to her father so that he won’t feel alone. So that he can have a purpose aside from waiting for The Deep One to wake up.

      I hope this doesn’t come off as offensive, but this is told with little emotion. It’s not exactly sterilized, but it’s written as though Klajonas HAS to tell this story rather than having any real desire to do so. It’s almost like she’s archiving it for future generations and later accounts. That is incredibly fascinating.

      Reading through this story and thinking back on previous stories, this feels very much like a community or a tribe. Although a person may have their biological parents, the community also helps to raise the child. I don’t know if that is intentional on your part, but I find that really fascinating. I also love that Klajonas trusts her father to return each time, I’m assuming, to bring children to him to raise and to protect.

      I don’t have anything in the way of critiques. I really did enjoy the story, and I love how you describe the places where she used to play when she was younger, as well as speaking about how the city avoided dying out like so many others. Very nicely done. I hope to read more from you. Thank you so very much for writing and sharing this.

    5. i-prefer-the-term-antihero Avatar
      i-prefer-the-term-antihero

      This is really interesting!! When I first skimmed through it I thought it was Klajonas’ first time home, but on my second, more careful read through, her “always” would seem to imply she comes back often? In any case, it’s lovely to see them together again!!!

      The name “niekas” seems to hold more importance than I thought at first. I’m curious if there’s any reason she shares the same name as the old woman who tried to kill Klajonas, besides the name meaning “no one.” Or if the word has some importance in the world besides that. I wonder if Padas will give her a new name.

      I think you do a good job of showing how Klajonas feels nostalgic about the city but she also feels a distance towards it. The memories that pass through her mind, and the disconnect in reality. It makes me sad how clear that disconnect is. though it certainly makes sense, since she spent her whole life away…I guess the fact that she barely knew her family will always make me a bit sad.

      “The city’s architecture was both beautiful and mean.”
      –Never heard architecture described as mean before. I like it!!

      “Though inhabited now, the temples were infrequently repaired, and never skillfully.”
      –I like the phrasing.

      “There were some families she bore no relation to, and that more than anything else made her feel like an outsider. Disconnected.”
      –Interesting dilemma she faces. Not one most people can relate to, but one that feels very real and intriguing.

      “Not the big door, Klajonas never wanted to make a scene, but the small door where she had seen him fight off dogs more than once. Coincidence, perhaps.”
      –Love this. Also, I loved the “coincidence, perhaps” but didn’t catch the connection between it and “Coincidence never really was, for her.” at first. Expertly done!!

      This is great!!

  13. Constella Avatar
    Constella

    “Mediate”
    By Constellasphere

    This cabin, hidden away in the deepest reaches of the Northern forest where not even the wind dared disturb, had been long forgotten. It seemed even time had overlooked the structure, as it’s inevitable fall still had yet to come. 

    For an amount of time he couldn’t determine, Wander watched the structure, as if waiting for something, anything to happen. Even if a pinecone fell from one of the trees surrounding the cabin, it’d stir him. But nothing changed; it remained as it was. 

    Unable to dismiss the feeling that he knew this place, that it was simply buried somewhere deep in his memories, the boy stepped towards it, his feet barely making indents in the snow. From the outside, it was just as silent as its surroundings. If given a passing glance, he’d assume it was abandoned. And yet, when the boy stood in the doorway, a gasp escaped him.

    The fireplace was alive, staining the log walls with warm, flickering light while providing a source of comfort. And there were people! Just as lively as the fire, they sat around the hearth while the eldest of them spun a tale of a being made of the night, her hair flowing with that of the sunset. 

    And Wander, he could understand them. They spoke in a language he was sure no one else but he and a few other beings remembered. He couldn’t begin to ponder how they possibly knew what they spoke, but with every word, the longing in his heart grew.

    “Father, he has come home!”

    Wander’s eyes widened when the family all turned to the doorway where he stood frozen, their faces expressing joy and relief, and…and love. The young woman who had noticed him leapt from her chair and rushed forward with her arms open as if to embrace him, but he faltered and blinked. In a whisper of the wind, the warm illusion vanished. 

    The cabin was dilapidated once more, the fireplace empty and the chairs long eroded. Not a trace remained. 

    He could feel the longing in his heart overflowing.

    1. Glaceon373 Avatar
      Glaceon373

      Constella, this piece is framed to be so cute and wonderful and then bam! You rip the rug out from underneath us. The elegant descriptions set the mood beautifully, building the anticipation for a happy reunion, but in the last two paragraphs, it’s all gone. I also really like the last sentence for its emotional gut punch. Overall, Constella, very powerful piece. Great job!

    2. Lari B. Haven Avatar
      Lari B. Haven

      Oh this one pulled deep in my heartstrings.
      I feel so sad for Wander. It’s cleart that he has passed trough so much already, and this really sweet memory comes to him.
      If only he could stay inside that bubble of warmt foverver… I really hope our fluffy boy finds his home (or at least a proxy of a home) with the people that like him and love him.
      Great story Constella!

    3. I ask you again: why must you hurt the sweet boy?? There’s so much atmosphere in the story, Constella. Often times, people think of nature in terms of beauty or in terms of destruction. I know this may sound a little weird, but here you’ve done both and yet neither. Nature is a simple backdrop for this cabin and to have our boy Wander visit it. Simultaneously, however, you also describe it very beautifully, even though the focus is on an emotional aspect.

      I love the sadness of Wander juxtaposed against the quiet nature. He is simply looking for a home. I am curious as to if the memories are his, or if they are what the cabin remembers, and he just happened to come into contact with some sort of magic that allows him to see.

      Either way, it is a very poignant scene. Also, I really love how you personify the wind.

      Critique:

      It seemed even time had overlooked the structure, as it’s (its) inevitable fall still had yet to come.

      Please take this critique with a grain of salts. It’s tiny in comparison to the rest of thia incredibly heartbreaking story. I sincerely hope that sweet cinnamon roll Wander finds a home. He definitely deserves one. He seems like he’s so full of love and wanderlust, but the wanderlust part is waning in favor of wanting a sense of belonging and acceptance and community. Please, please give that to him soon. I don’t think I can take it much longer.

      You are really fabulous at bringing a sense of wonder to your stories, as well as a sense of otherness. Usually, it’s very sweet and wholesome. I am ecstatic to see what you write next. Thank you so very much for writing and sharing this one!

    4. Ooof! This was a hard one. It seemed so wholesome and heartwarming. And yet, despite the fact that I suspected that as soon as Wander saw what seems like family in the cabin, that it was going to go wrong, I wanted so desperately for it to actually happen. So it was heartbreaking to see that it was a just a dream, or vision, or fantasy. That last sentence made it so much harder. Very sad, but very well done, Constella.

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