Writing Group: This Earth, For You (PRIVATE)

Jan 24, 2022

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in Community, Private Submissions, Writing Group

Hello, Gardeners and Gaians!

This planet really is something, isn’t it? So blue, with wisps of white and kisses of green. It’s so big, yet still so small. I bet there’s none like it out there in the cosmos. Hey, tell me what you think of our world, because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

This Earth, For You

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!

This lovely prompt has been in the running for some time now. Many times has it come close, but slipped through our fingers like the shifting sands of the Earth itself.

Much like our beautiful planet, this prompt has several different layers and materials to be woven any which way your mind wishes. Your story could bloom into one of giving, for example. Perhaps someone finds out their distant heritage, and in reconnecting to their roots, they are given a plot of land that belonged to their ancestors but went unclaimed for some time. Of course, the lack of care probably resulted in dense weeds and unruly grasses, but a little work goes a long way. Maybe it’s not a plot of land at all, though. Maybe an ancient race of extraterrestrials wander from galaxy to galaxy, each new generation of the head family being given their own “Earth” to care for. It is up to them to help the beings on that planet flourish and grow, however they see fit. Or it could be as simple as a parent giving their child a bag of soil to finally start their own section of the family garden.

Of course, it doesn’t have to be about literal earth and soil. The Earth could be in reference to our world, the way we’ve shaped and expanded it. Perhaps someone is finally able to come up with a solution for energy. Maybe they found a way to make energy abundant all over the planet, reducing the cost of energy supplied to homes and workplaces. Does this help the planet get better? Do new problems arise with this new development? Maybe they figured it out, but just don’t have the time to implement what changes are needed, passing it down from generation to generation to help heal the planet, making it their family’s mission to help leave this Earth better than they found it. Your story could also just follow the daily routine of a farmer who supplies produce to a small and humble town.

There’s so many different ways this prompt could grow and thrive. But it can’t do much of anything without you to plant that seed first.

So grab your trowel and gloves, and see what beautiful stories can blossom from your imagination!

—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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Comments

30 responses to “Writing Group: This Earth, For You (PRIVATE)”

Alexander Lewis

January 29, 2022

Once More (lol i know its too long)
By Alexander (BrokenEarth)

An old man sat on the sidewalk, leaning against a brick wall, enjoying the cool air from the alley only a few inches away.

He reached instinctively for a guitar. It wasn’t there.

Dozens of people walked by, ignoring him. That was natural. He probably looked like a bum, with aging white hair and dirty clothes, but that wasn’t the truth. He wasn’t a bum.

As he rejected this label from himself, as he always did, his mind prompted for a new one. He couldn’t be nothing, it argued, so what was he?

Unlucky would have been his answer a few months ago. Misfortune loved him, the way he had loved his daughter. But luck had its limits, and he had reached it.

He reached for more ideas, but found none. None, at least, that weren’t just “unlucky” worded differently. He let out a sigh.

Tired. That was something.

From the alley behind him, a dull sound rang out, something had been thrown at a piece of metal. The old man stood, ignoring the aching of his joints, sternly telling himself that he wasn’t that old yet, and went to investigate.

It was hard, for a while, to tell where the sound had come from. The close walls made everything echo, so it could have been anywhere. He meandered around, not having the energy to put into his search.

As he was about to give up, a stray glace at the fire escape above him gave away the culprit, someone had thrown something out their window and it had landed there.

It took some time to get the ladder down. It was, after all, meant to be lowered from the second story, but he managed to find a pipe laying around that he could just barely lift, and by some miracle he unhooked it.

When he finally got to look at it properly he couldn’t help but smile. It was a guitar, shiny and new, barely even scratched from its recent defenestration. It was covered, as though with chicken pox, with stickers of rainbows, stars, unicorns, and flowers.

He looked around, wondering if anyone would come to retrieve it, or shoo him away like a rat, but it was quiet. Far too quiet, he thought, for the lively city.

Tenderly, he picked up the guitar, as though it were a newborn. He plucked at the strings experimentally, quietly, tuning their sound to be just to his liking.

He sat himself down on the cold metal fire escape, holding the guitar in his lap, and closed his eyes. He felt like his mamma was calling him indoors from a long day of running in the backyard. Like he was being allowed to stay up to watch a crappy sci-fi movie with his dad.

Like he was home.

Before he opened his eyes he could hear something, and it took a moment to realize what it was. His hands, without permission, were playing the guitar, a sweet, simple tune, sloppy from years of missing practice.

It was bits and pieces of songs the old man loved, not quite something new, but still not the same. He wouldn’t have been able to play it a second time, he knew that much.

He was too lost, whether in the music or himself he couldn’t say, to notice the window open, or to see the young girl climb out and sit across from him. She was quiet, as well, knowing somehow that she shouldn’t interrupt.

He jumped with freight when he noticed her, cutting the music off discordantly, rattling the fire escape loudly.

Reply
jesse fisher

January 28, 2022

The world was not enough
By Jesse Fisher

{Data Logo XXX}

>This data log is a record of the last known human cryo ship.
>The date has been lost due to a memory purge to free up data for the ship’s functionality.
>Destination is for a planet within a habitable zone of a young sun.
>This and other priority information is to be copied and duplicated information should be checked and deleted if all the information is the same.

—-

The ship was entering the gravitational field of the system, this began a sequence on the vessel. The computer began to run the preparation for landing the ship, first of which was to start a physical scan of the ship.

A functional set of robotic drones began to move around the ship, checking for holes that might have been deleted due to lack of concern. As the lack of pressure was not an issue for robotic beings. Hence the two began to sweep the ship for anything lost to the database, given the fact they were attached to the ship that meant some good was there but due to the length of time a hole could have been punched in the ship.

As they moved from the cargo hold, as they were programmed, to start the sweep of the ship after that it was the human storage rooms.

The rooms looked like…the term was erased due to priority. The sealed container was just a square box with a pull out tray to allow easy storage.

All passed the inspection before going to the viewing area of the ship, where they stared out into the vastness to the planet ahead and the work they would have to do.

Reply
1. Adrian Solorio
  
  January 28, 2022
  
  The data-log computer as narrator stories are always interesting and often tend to be a little eerie. This little piece is no different. We have a ship with human cargo traveling to another planet, likely to colonize it. It’s a planet within the habitable zone and given the way we treat our planet, colonization of a new planet makes sense. The human cargo are in deep sleep and the onboard computer systems/robots are running the show. The robot drones enter the human cryo-chamber and see something, but we don’t know what exactly. I feel like it’s something bad, but I’m not 100% sure.
  
  I think that’s the one critique I have for this piece, Jesse. You left us hanging at one of the most interesting parts:
  
  “The rooms looked like…,” What did the rooms look like? I want to know? Were the cryo-chambers destroyed? We’re the bodies dried out shells? Did an alien fungus enter the chamber and change the place?
  
  Do you think expanding on that line, and giving us (the readers) enough detail to see and smell (other senses) this world at that moment, would add some punch to the story?
  
  Reply
  1. jesse fisher
    
    January 29, 2022
    
    was going for a morgue but did the unknown word but did descript it.
    
    I did try to make it feel alien, mostly because why would a robot need to smell. So made most of this clinical and from the robots’ perspective.
    
    Reply
i-prefer-the-term-antihero

January 27, 2022

[Removed]

Reply
1. Rattus
  
  January 28, 2022
  
  Absolutely beautiful, I loved this so much. Lestair’s pain is so real, and the emotions are conveyed so well. I particularly liked Victor’s dialogue in this, especially the “Mentally, emotionally, spiritually, everything-else-ly…”. That line is so good!
  
  I like that this started out with Lestair being happy for his brother, but then by the end he seemed really mortified by what had happened. Watching his disposition slowly drop and sour throughout the piece was great, and it was executed wonderfully.
  
  Great job!
  
  Reply
MasaCur

January 27, 2022

A Threat to the Empire
By MasaCur

“People of England. You may not know me. What is important is that you throw off the chains of oppression placed on you by those you call your leaders.

These people, those who deem to call themselves your betters, have taken from you for far too long. And today, it must stop! No longer will they steal food from your mouths, or the mouths of your family. No longer will they force you to work in their mines, in their factories, to break your backs and your spirits just so you can afford to put clothes on your back, a roof over your head, food on your table, and a fire in your hearth. Basic necessities that you deserve simply as a creature of the Almighty!

They will not give you these comforts. Not without extracting everything they can take from you. And not only you. If they can, they will extract these things from your wives, your children. They do not see you as people, but beasts. You are but mules in their eyes.

No, you must show them the power you have. The royals? The nobles? We are many, they are few. The church? The church will not provide for you. They want to take their tithe from you, and make you feel guilt when you are unable to provide. The government? When has Parliament ever fought for the rights and freedoms of the common man? No, if you do not have money, you do not exist.

Rise up, my fellows. Strike back at your oppressors. This is not their land. This is not their world. It does not belong to the royals, nor the church, nor the rich. It doesn’t even belong to intellectuals like me. For it says in the bible, it is the meek that shall inherit the Earth. This world is for you.”

Andrew took the needle off the gramophone cylinder. “That was Magnus Von Nilsson. And he needs to be neutralised. He is our top priority.”

Cassidy looked up from the rifle she was cleaning. “Where do we start?”

Reply
1. jesse fisher
  
  January 28, 2022
  
  Okay I feel like this is some one who recalled the fifth of November. Almost as if they found V’s diary and made a cult that followed that doctrine. I also see the theme in the speech, and the how people view the world beyond their own. Loved it.
  
  Reply
Calliope Rannis

January 26, 2022

From A Planet To A Home (Corespace Universe)
By Calliope Rannis

Everything was in position.

Before the burning points of Dakfarora’s eyes was a planet, covered in greenery and shallow seas.
Orbiting the little world were eight translucent spacecraft, their flight paths geo-locked into strategic positions around the planet.
And with them was their cargo: eight gargantuan crystal spikes, each one ten to fifteen times the size of the ship telekinetically transporting them.

Final checks complete, the watcher turned towards their superior. As expected, they were still lazing upon their throne of crackling shards, arcs of electricity caressing the coils of their longer white-gold body. Dakfarora rippled with displeasure for a moment, before reaching out with their mind.

(Commander Kaaorvoll. We are ready to begin.)

The greater Wyrm stirred, the searing points of their eyes flickering and expanding into fiery diamonds.Then they slowly rose from their throne, floating to the window with the languid pace of someone with a luxurious excess of time, casually brushing past their servant without care for their displeasure.

(…Good. Very good.) Their smooth voice grated across Dakfarora’s mind. (Well? Give the signal then, Farora. I am waiting.)

Dakfarora stole a glance back at Kaaorvoll, seething with envy, before turning and throwing their mind’s voice out towards those distant ships.

(All terraformer teams, get ready! Focus! FIRE!!!)

The gigantic crystalline spikes shuddered terribly for a moment. Then, in one simultaneous motion, they were thrown towards the planet at incredible speeds.

The world’s crust cracked and shattered, before exploding outwards. Forests burned to ash in an instant, as seas evaporated into steam. Thousands of volcanoes were born in minutes – and then died just as quickly, as the rapidly growing crystals seeded within the planet’s core choked their molten throats and tore them to shreds of rock and lava. The crystals kept growing and growing, covering the planet in growths of vivid colours that pierced and electrified the sky, transforming landscape and atmosphere alike forever within a single hour.

The Crystalwyrms watched the transformation together. Kaaorvoll with distant amusement and pleasure, and Dakfarora imagining their superior’s shining body, tortured and destroyed in place of the world before them.

Reply
1. Rattus
  
  January 27, 2022
  
  This was a really cool story! I don’t think I’ve read much from your Corespace Universe in the past, but this definitely has me interested to learn more about it.
  
  Your descriptions were vivid and impactful, and I like how you made something as large as a planet seem so small and insignificant compared to the greater being. The whole description of the world breaking apart and crystallizing was so good! And the last paragraph was such a good ending. The pure emotion and hatred packed into one sentence was so powerful.
  
  Wonderful job!
  
  Reply
2. MasaCur
  
  January 27, 2022
  
  Well, that I was not expecting. The idea that terraforming a planet would actually make it less habitable for us. But then again, there are a number of different species in the Corespace universe, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I loved the descriptions of how the process happened, what it did to the planet. This was really well done, Calliope.
  
  Reply
3. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  January 28, 2022
  
  Ooooh very interesting!!
  
  I’m always a fan of the fact that Corespace is kind of a fantasy x sci fi hybrid. I love that you have space Wyrms in your universe, and they’re (presumably) dragon wyrms.
  
  “The greater Wyrm stirred, the searing points of their eyes flickering and expanding into fiery diamonds.Then they slowly rose from their throne, floating to the window with the languid pace of someone with a luxurious excess of time”
  –I love this.
  
  I really like your use of crystals as the planet destroying device, rather than a gun or something. At first I thought they were cargo, I wasn’t expecting them to be weapons but it’s really cool and unique. I also love that it doesn’t just destroy it, it terraforms it, which is both a more effective and a more terrifying way to destroy a planet.
  
  I love the second to last paragraph, but especially “Thousands of volcanoes were born in minutes – and then died just as quickly, as the rapidly growing crystals seeded within the planet’s core choked their molten throats and tore them to shreds of rock and lava.” Man, I just adore your imagery there, it’s so vivid.
  
  You always seem to do a good job with name dropping at the end of your Corespace stories. It’s cool to learn that they are Crystalwyrms–this is what they *are.*
  
  “Kaaorvoll with distant amusement and pleasure, and Dakfarora imagining their superior’s shining body, tortured and destroyed in place of the world before them.”
  –I love this ending. I didn’t quite catch Dakfarora’s displeasure until the end. But I love that, in the end, we find we’re not just watching the story of two villains, we’re watching the story of one villain, and another who has the potential to stop this destruction. (Or, I guess, also the potential to become their own villain, depending on how dark they go in order to overthrow the commander).
  
  Great job!!
  
  Reply
4. RVMPLSTLTSKN
  
  January 28, 2022
  
  Tagback!
  
  This is a lovely scene, Calliope! I enjoyed so much about it. The horror of the terraforming and why (or at least the nature of those doing it).
  
  I loved that you acknowledge that Kaaorvoll knows Dakfarora’s feeling, but ignores them. It sets up later scenes nicely and promises to pay off interestingly.
  
  Great job!
  
  Reply
Rattus

January 26, 2022

The Girl from Nowhere
by Gerrit (Rattus)

Olessa stood, surrounded by nothing, gazing down at a marble of blues, greens, and whites. Pinpricks of light glistened all around her, breaking up the endless void.

“Strange, isn’t it? How millions of lives seem so insignificant from afar.” A voice, though it didn’t so much speak as resound within her head.

“What is this?”

“You don’t recognize it? That is your home, is it not?”

“That’s my home?” The last thing she remembered, she was in her house. Then everything fell away.

“I created this world, and the people in it, for the sole purpose of nurturing you. This whole world is only as old as you are. They gave you the name ‘Olessa’, if I’m not mistaken? The girl from nowhere, according to their language. An apt name, I suppose.”

“So all the people I met–the people I loved, and helped–they’re not real?”

“Just because these peoples were forged for a purpose does not make them any less real.”

“And what is my purpose?” She hoped this was all a dream. A hallucination, and she’d soon find herself back home.

“To be my apprentice, of sorts.”

What would one even do, as an apprentice to some sort of almighty being? But that wasn’t the first question on her mind. “What will happen to this world, now that it’s purpose has been served?”

“I have not yet decided. I had thought to abandon it.”

Olessa looked down at the sphere floating amongst the blackness. She thought of the people within it, and the love they had shown her. “May I have it?”

“Have it?” The being’s voice showed no emotion, but somehow Olessa could sense its confusion.

“You said I am to be your apprentice. Then let me have this world, to watch over and protect as my own.” The people of this world had taken her in and protected her when she had nothing else. It was only fair that the favour be returned.

“So it shall be. I suppose it deserves a name, then.”

Olessa thought for a moment, then smiled.

“Nowhere.”

Reply
1. Calliope Rannis
  
  January 26, 2022
  
  Oh, this story is very sweet! I can really feel for Olessa though – if she had lived a seemingly normal life with the people of this world, never once expecting it all to be all uprooted so suddenly like this, then I can imagine that causing feelings of incredible lonliness and isolation, if not prepared for. I suppose that’s potentially better than the alternative of giving her a literal god complex in her youth, but still, neither option feels super ideal.
  
  But it was very precious indeed, that the very first thing she thought to use her newfound cosmic power for was to protect and nurture her homeworld, in the same way that it had for her. I suppose that’s the best sign of all that the Older Deity had the right idea, as far as raising a new deity into a healthy and well-balanced existence goes. Heck, she was *already* helping people on that world when she was just in a mortal form even before that! (I wonder who that could possibly remind me of? ;P)
  
  And that final line was lovely – turning a name that usually means not much at all, a dismissive term for a empty place, into an statement of credit and an acknowledgement of a home – she will always be ‘from’ Nowhere, no matter how far her cosmic presence extends and touches.
  
  Wonderful work Rattus! Well done! <3
  
  Reply
2. RVMPLSTLTSKN
  
  January 27, 2022
  
  This is an interesting piece. Overall, I enjoy it a lot. The concept of creating your own heir is an intriguing one.
  
  Olessa’s naming of the plane is cute and very telling about her humors. She seems very cautious too.
  
  The Being’s confusion is strange to me. It has crafted her by using extremely high level forces and manipulations, but is caught off guard by her desire to hold onto the familiar.
  
  Great job!
  
  Reply
Glaceon373

January 26, 2022

I Bought It For You
by Carrie (Glaceon373)

“What… what is that?”

Toby shifted. “It’s a bag of dirt.”

“And why are you at my door at—” Spencer glanced at his watch, “the ungodly hour of 11:22 at night with a bag of dirt?”

“It’s one and a half cubic feet, and it’s got organic fertilizer, too.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Toby, and you know it,” he took a step forward, still on his side of the doorway.

“Well, I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about, uh…” Toby adjusted the bag, the dirt heaving to one side. “About me. And you. But, y’know, mostly me.”

“And?”

He sighed. “And I had to think for a really long time, and I had to call my mom because I didn’t know what to do or what was even a good idea to do, but then you texted me! And I—”

“I texted you at noon. It’s past eleven.”

“Yeah, but I was still thinking and stuff, so it took a while, and then when I finally decided on the gift for you, all the stores were closing, so I drove around for an hour looking for a place that was still open that sold dirt, and now I’m here.”

“With a gift.”

“Yes.”

“A gift of… a bag of dirt.”

“Let me explain,” Toby took a slow, deep breath. “I… know I messed up. And your reaction was incredibly justified, so I knew a normal apology wouldn’t cut it. And you’ve said ages ago that you always wanted a little window garden, so…”

Spencer’s eyes lit up. He took a half-step back.

“But there’s also enough dirt in here if you wanted to, like, bury me and all memories of me in your yard or something, too. Because that’s, uh…”

“That’s something else I’ve said,” Spencer whispered.

“Yeah. And also, I’m really sorry.”

There was a moment of silence.

“…Toby?” Spencer stepped out of the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Please set down the bag of dirt.”

The bag thumped gently against the ground.

“A normal apology would have cut it,” Spencer swept him up in a hug.

Reply
1. WolfsbaneX
  
  January 26, 2022
  
  Awwww, this was cute. I like how you allow us to get into the heads of both guys. Spencer is obviously very introspective and slow to action, and Toby has very strong emotions. I also like that you leave it to the reader to define the relationship, making it much more universal. And the idea that even the dumbest gifts can mean something just pulls at my heartstrings. Well done.
  
  Reply
2. Adrian Solorio
  
  January 27, 2022
  
  Ahhhh, this was lovely, Glaceon. You got a chuckle out of me and I’m still smiling as I write. Very well done.
  
  This is the story of two people who are close. Friends, lovers, family, we don’t know but it doesn’t really matter for this story because we can feel the warmth and friendship between them. Toby did something that upset Spence, and Spence may have snapped at Toby with some hurtful words.
  
  Now we’re at the moment when Toby is trying to make amends. He remembered something that Spencer wanted for his house and he’s brought something that could be used for that thing. Spencer shows his appreciation in a beautiful way.
  
  This line made me laugh: “A gift of… a bag of dirt.”
  
  You know, I’d like to write more humorous pieces, but it seems really hard for me. Hat’s off to you! You did well with this one!
  
  Reply
3. MasaCur
  
  January 27, 2022
  
  Aww, this was sweet. Toby definitely has his heart in the right place, even if it was hard for Spencer to figure out where he was going with it. It’s interesting, I want so badly to know what Toby did that he felt he needed to go to such lengths to come up with such a peace offering, but at the same time, it’s not something that needs to be in the story. He made a mistake and got Spencer mad at him, and he got a bag of dirt to apologize.
  I really enjoyed this one Carrie.
  
  Reply
Adrian Solorio

January 25, 2022

Homecoming
By Adrian Solorio

Before the sun dawned on the red-tiled homes of Santa Dolores, its rays chased away the white-mist covering the land. In hen-houses red-roosters crowed; in the road a lean-dog asleep awoke; in homes pots and pans clanged while stove fires burned. Orange-pink tendrils of light spread through the green-valley, slowly, warmly, rolling down the hills, down into the pot-holed streets, up the church tower, then out over the fields of yellow-corn.

On the porch of a lonely house shaded by a lone willow, gnarled and bent, an old man sat alone. Alone but for the battle-worn tomcat, with one ear half-missing, licking its paws, sitting beside him. The sun rose higher and the speckled shade cast by the tree shaded the pair in dapples. Though half-blind and half-mad, the old man enjoyed the sunrise completely, feeling its rays lighting on his skin, the warmth washing over him in a drizzle.

And just as he did every morning, Manuel sat on that porch and pondered. Though he had outlived his entire family they remained with him. For his memories were distinct, tangible. So much so, he heard them, talked to them, saw them even. For this, his neighbors thought he was crazy. For talking to the dead, they said.

“Well, what do they know, Capi?” Manuel said to the cat, whose half-ear twitched at the sound of birds, black-swallows with orange-breasts, singing in the bent branches of the tree. “He never should have gone to el Norte.” Manuel wiped his milky-eyes. “I should’ve stopped him. Why didn’t I stop him?”

Meanwhile, his dead wife hummed in the kitchen, where she cooked with his dead sister. While in the cornfield, he could hear his father’s ghost scolding his brothers. All the family—all except Nicholas—were here. So long he had waited for his son, but now he was grown tired, so tired. “He died too far from home, Capi,” said Manuel despondently. “His spirit’s lost.”

Time passed. An eternity passed. Finally, a figure, shimmering and familiar, appeared, and took Manuel’s cold hand, and together they went inside joining the rest of the family.

Reply
1. jesse fisher
  
  January 28, 2022
  
  Damn that was a trip. The emotion was so on point that I could see some animation going on while a narrator told Manuel’s story. The description of each character’s action and routine adds to this. In death as in life as the saying goes.
  
  Reply
  1. Adrian Solorio
    
    January 28, 2022
    
    Thanks for reading and commenting, Jessie. I’m glad you liked it. I wasn’t sure if I conveyed enough emotion, so I’m glad whatever I did helped you visualize things. I will reciprocate and comment on your story in kind 😉
    
    Reply
RVMPLSTLTSKN

January 25, 2022

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

Klajonas died young. A statistical outlier. It was not the usual causes that tendered her soul into the artifice of eternity; not war, nor famine, nor disease. She died in the grip of something far more insidious: addiction.

She was known as the Storyteller. Brolis gave her his father’s fermented drinks and she would make the whole family laugh or cry. She knew all the stories about the Wanderer and she thought they were happy. For a year.

She found, one day, a clam buried in the brackish pool they fished. She had been drinking and the brown-flecked shell reminded her of Father, who taught her to fish and told her the stories. She pulled the clam open in a reverie of nostalgia, a desire burning her to know if there was anything inside.

A pearl the color of the hole in the sky dropped from the shell. She stared after it, uncomprehending, when she felt it brush her foot. A sense of deafening brightness.

—These are for you, the Living.

A tear followed the pearl’s wake. A second set of ripples. She felt the alcoholic headiness leave her body, the desire for drink gone, a memory of false happiness.

Brolis splashed up to her. “What is it?”

Her hands had never been clever, just clumsy things attached to a sharp mind, a mind now clarified and relaxed. She laughed at him, petty cruelty her only recourse to this revelation, to reality. She was self-aware again.

“Klajonas?”

Her mouth twisted. “Do you know the story when the Wanderer gave up his legs to save his lover?”

“Of course, you told it last night.”

“You’re not worth the cost.”

His face reddened, darkened.

She left him there and dove beneath the water. She smashed every clam she could find, the occasional refrain keeping her going. When she reached the sea, her body was spent and her soul loosened. She slipped beneath the waves one last time, breathing her last as she felt that divine presence and its message. When her heart stopped, the pearls healed her and she awoke ashore.

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1. Calliope Rannis
  
  January 26, 2022
  
  Firstly, that’s a very clever title. The pearls were for her, as they were for all the living indeed…but in her act of seeking them, Klajonas left the ranks of the Living, and became something else instead. Dunno if that was an intended layer of meaning for the title, but it was neat to see anyway!
  
  That said, her death was a strange one. Sad in a way, as death so often is, but also very abrupt and sudden. In a sense, her death was as much an act of defiance against the norm as her choices in life were – abruptly snapping what little human connection she had left, to expend her energy and body alike grasping at scraps of the divine instead. And to be fair, it paid off – I don’t quite know if she awoke as a mortal again, or as a god, but either way she got something more meaningful and lasting than mere oblivion out of it.
  
  And that’s pretty important I think, because oblivion was clearly what she was seeking before – blinding her emotions with drink, concealing her emptiness with a chemical happiness. So even if her life was a stable-ish one at that very moment, the drink would have taken her eventually, and left nothing notable behind. So I suppose this story could be seen as a victory for meaningfullness in her life, cut off though that life may have been. Or maybe I am reading too much into it. 😛
  
  Finally, I really liked the idea of the special divine pearls being the same colour as whatever the hole in the sky is. Because that could be any colour, really – but the connection makes the pearls feel even more cosmic and divinely connected than they already are, and it’s just a neat detail to know!
  
  Overall, great work this week Rvmple! 😀
  
  Reply
2. i-prefer-the-term-antihero
  
  January 28, 2022
  
  I’m gonna be honest, I was planning on rationing out my reviews this week but…my gosh I have to review this.
  
  “Klajonas died young.”
  –Coming right out with it aren’t you?
  I’ve definitely been curious about this for a while, seeing as I know she became a god. I was honestly surprised to hear she died young here at first. But ultimately it makes sense.
  
  “A statistical outlier. It was not the usual causes that tendered her soul into the artifice of eternity; not war, nor famine, nor disease. She died in the grip of something far more insidious: addiction.”
  –This is great. A powerful beginning.
  Also, now I get why you made a point of emphasizing the addiction in that other story.
  
  When she found the clam I was like “oh that’s sweet”… but then when I hit “These are for you, the Living” I immediately started tearing up.
  
  “Her hands had never been clever, just clumsy things attached to a sharp mind,”
  –Love this
  
  “Her mouth twisted. “Do you know the story when the Wanderer gave up his legs to save his lover?”
  “Of course, you told it last night.”
  “You’re not worth the cost.”
  –*Hot dang!* That’s cold. But also I love it.
  
  It always seemed to me that Klajonas didn’t have strong ties to home, that she lost sight/love of home in her wandering. I love that at the end of her life she (seemingly at least) realized what she’d, what she’d lost. The “Your not worth the cost” has something beautiful in it, that she remembered her home and her wandering was more important, and that he had taken her down a dark road.
  
  (Also…Is it weird that I thought Klajonas was gay? I thought I remembered in an earlier story of yours, someone mentioning the wanderer’s love, and Klajonas saying “I just haven’t found her yet”? I must have either remembered or interpreted that wrong XD)
  
  I’m curious why she smashed them. If she wanted to hear the words, or if truly wanted to destroy them?
  
  So, wait a second, are the pearls what allows someone to ascend? When Vienas used the pearls to heal Padas when he was sick, did that seal his fate that he would ascend?
  
  I’m also curious why you said at the beginning that she died of addiction? I guess you just said that she died in the grip of it, not *of* it…Is it the idea that she lost herself in addiction and it led to her death?
  
  This was great!!
  
  Reply
Constellasphere

January 24, 2022

“Ergosum”
By Constellasphere

His heart raced wildly as he ran through the snowy forest, chasing after the deer that seemed to promise him a new adventure.

He had tried for a long time to obey orders, to stay within the boundaries set for him. But as his mind wandered, he began to as well. Surely there was more to see in the world, and the boy wanted to know what it had to show him. What shape was the world? Was the sky blue in other parts of it as well? Were there other places out there to see?

The fluffy white crunched beneath his feet; it was a bit odd for snow to remain this long after Spring, but everyone makes mistakes, right?

It was a swift and clean break that kept him ensnared in place. No matter how he cried out, his voice growing raspy as night arrived, the world continued on without him. Though his tears had long since dried, he held the hope that maybe someone would find him even as the snow would come to bury him. He wanted to apologize to the people waiting for him back home; the boy hoped they’d still love him despite this.

Of course they would; the thought of being safe and warm within their arms could’ve given him enough love to live for hundreds of years. And so, he would wait for them to find him, no matter how long it took. The boy held that hope and smiled as his eyes closed for the night.

Something called out to him, waking him from a long rest. A voice within the wind, a tremble from the Earth itself, speaking of its gift. This world around him was an unfamiliar burst of life. Flowers bloomed from the ground, leaves whispered as they shivered on the trees, and the wildlife strutted about to experience the new life.

The boy stumbled to his legs, his empty head and hollow chest urging him forward. His foot brushed against what had long been claimed by the Earth, but they would remain unnoticed.

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1. Glaceon373
  
  January 26, 2022
  
  Constella, this piece is gorgeous. The descriptions are so vivid, and you also tied them into the actions of our unnamed perspective character, which makes the whole piece even more immersive. There’s not much in terms of actions, but I personally like it best this way. I hope he gets to find his family again. Overall, Constella, awesome piece. Great job!
  
  Reply
WolfsbaneX

January 24, 2022

“The Hypobeal Baptist”
By Hemming Sebastian Bane

Five cloaked people stood around an open pit in a graveyard, shovels in hand. It had been some time since the master had called them all; the hard winter dirt had yielded to the spring mud twice and was starting to dry into the summer dust. The crescent moon was high in the sky. It was time. The five turned and walked towards the shack. Within a few minutes, a young man exited with a shovel over his shoulder, but stopped when he saw five strangers on his proverbial doorstep.

“Can I help ya?”

His speech was drawn out and inelegant. No matter. His muscles were all the master needed.

“It is time,” the five cloaked people said in unison.

“What? What d’ya mean?”

“Master Rimmelech has sent for us.”

The young gravedigger’s eyes lit up. “Y’all are friends with my little buddy?!”

The five nodded in unison. They stood still as death as the young man jumped for joy.

“I knew he said I’d never be alone,” the gravedigger replied, “But I didn’t never think that he’d invite buddies over. Come in! Come in!”

He gave his best bow and gestured to the door.

“We have no time,” the figure in the middle said. Their voice was deep and authoritative.

“We must dig, friend,” the figure to the far left added. A feminine voice.

“The master is coming,” the five said, in unison once more. “We must make preparations.”

The gravedigger nodded and the six marched over to the open pit.

“Enter.” The unison of the five’s voices shook the gravedigger.

“O-okay.” Without much effort, the gravedigger climbed down into the pit, shovel in hand. “Now what?”

The five figures dug their shovels into the dirt and took turns pelting the gravedigger with the gravedirt. The young man tried to protest, but his cries only earned him a mouthful of soil. The five chanted as they threw more and more and more dirt upon the young gravedigger. When they had filled the hole, they spoke once more in unison.

“Servant of Rimmelech, Lord of Worms, rise! Rise and dig!”

Reply
1. Glaceon373
  
  January 26, 2022
  
  Wolf, this is both very pretty and also surprisingly horrifying. The opening paragraph’s descriptions are wonderful and well done, and the dialogue is just as well executed. A goofy little gravedigger getting buried alive by a bunch of worm cultists was definitely not what I was expecting out of this piece, and I feel bad for the guy. He had no idea what was going on, the poor soul. Overall, Wolf, a very good piece. Great job!
  
  Reply