Writing Group: The End of the Hallway (PRIVATE)

Hello, Travellers and Midnight Wanderers!

How do you feel about hallways? They’re pretty different from stairways, aren’t they? Yet still similar… but much flatter, they don’t really move up or down. They’re… connective, I suppose. Well, I guess we better study up on architecture, because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

The End of the Hallway

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!

Hallways are everywhere. It’s hard to find a building that doesn’t have at least one. Hospitals are riddled with them, as are universities, schools, offices, even theatres and pools. There’s always some form of hallway connecting one room to another.

Hallways have also been used a lot in media. In horrors, there’s always some version where the demon or the ghost is waiting at the other end of the hallway, staring down the protagonist with a face of stone or a malicious glare or grin. In adventure or thrill-seeking movies, the scene is that some priceless artifact lies on a lit pedestal at the end, and the entire hallway is lined with all sorts of traps and dangers to prevent theft… which usually end up all failing at their job. Those are a couple of ways you could take this prompt. 

Another is to explore the world of being a construction foreman, charged with putting together a house or apartment building. Maybe the end of the hallway still needs to be built, or maybe it’s been mismeasured and now nothing lines up right. Maybe a way you choose to explore this prompt is by navigating the hallways of a hospital. You’re in a rush, but still wanting to take your time, gripped by the dread of finally making it to your destination, and whatever horrible news that arrival brings. Perhaps you choose the story of the time you woke in the middle of the night and needed to use the bathroom, but the dark hallway seemed impassable. The creaks of the house, branches tapping on windows that are out of view, your imagination running wild and making you see those two shining button eyes in the darkness.

This prompt could even refer to tunnel vision, hyperfixating on one thing that prods your mind incessantly for hours and hours, or focused on one thing in front of you and blocking out everything else. You could be focused on a hurtful comment, or maybe you’re just really adamant about beating this level in the game. It could even be a depiction of indecision or journey; a hallway is that long stretch between point A and point B, and sometimes it’s easier to go back than to go forward, even if you know you’re not supposed to be. 

So whatever path you choose, just keep pushing onward. Eventually you’ll reach the other end, and it’ll either be everything you dreamed, everything you feared… or perhaps even a strange mix of the two.

—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).
    6. 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.
    7. 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.
  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
    4. 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.
    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.
    4. 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.
    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).
    7. 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.
    8. 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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WolfsbaneX
WolfsbaneX
29 days ago

“Hallway to Perdition”
By Hemming Sebastian Bane

Long awoke in the dark. The solid stone dug deep into his shoulders. The cold crawled up his form. The kyorinrin climbed to his feet, the pages that made up his body ruffling softly. Long looked left, then right. Left, then right. He was in a… hallway? An old-looking hallway. That was strange. Wait. What was he doing before–

Long’s thoughts were interrupted as a huge roar echoed behind him. Suddenly, the dark corridor lit up as the stone bricks that composed it turned red hot. The kyorinrin screamed as the soles of his feet began to curl and char and bleed inky black. And in the dim light of the heat, he saw something horrible. Its presence made Long’s head hurt and the walls around him spin. Abominable antlers and horrible horns, malicious maws and titanic talons. Ever-shifting, the shambling creature crawled across the searing stone towards the cowering kyorinrin.

Long ran. Awkwardly, the paper man ran, leaving ashes and ink-stains behind. He could hear it. It was getting louder. Louder. LOUDER. It hit Long with the force of a tsunami, forcing the kyorinrin to his hands and knees. He screamed and screamed as the hot stone seared the scrolls that composed his body.

Sudden flashes raced across Long’s memory. Laughing with friends after he fell out of a tree. His miserable, rigorous training in the lower court. The note the queen consort asked him to write. The coins given to keep him quiet. The day the palace went up in flames…

Long awoke in the dark. The kyorinrin climbed to his feet as fast as he could. Suddenly, the hallway was again glowing with heat. Long screamed as his flesh burned and he leaked black. He started to run down the hall. There had to be a door. A staircase. A hideaway. Something that might protect him from goring and biting and slashing and burning. Even a turn would suffice at this point. But no. It was just a hall. One. Burning. Endless. Hall.

The creature formed again behind Long. The hall glowed. This… was forever, wasn’t it?

jesse fisher
jesse fisher
1 month ago

That was a hallway, right?
By Jesse Fisher

Some wonder about the places that never have a permanent place in this world, even if it is just a lifetime. Places that have stories but unless memerible it was just a forgotten thing. This also means some places are just an enigma of unknowable mysteries that play in the back of people’s minds. The older the place and the more ‘pristine’ makes people wonder.

“What do the walls know that we forgot?”

Some wonder what laids beyond doors, or why were the ceiling lowered? Small changes that one only notices in a place that is almost always the same regard. Yet it is almost always different. Some are single buildings, while others are multiple buildings with a center hub. Decorations distract or add to the mystery of a place. Yet some just stop, like you look and think you see something but it is an open sky. Shake your head and you could swear this was an enclosed building or maybe the tiredness got to you.

“Could have been the last place, I swear these places just blend together if you stay in them long enough.”

When the walls were there one moment, but the next they are gone, yet the decore is what it was beforehand so it must be just something from all the driving. Transient places have this effect on people. Some wonder the paths between, before finding their destination. Now if that is several hallways ago and the seven flashes of the world before then it is just a part of the journey.

Lunabear
Lunabear
1 month ago

The Lupin and The Dreamwalker
by Lunabear and Spectre

Sam’s silent footsteps led her along the reflective hall. The mirrors continued endlessly. They pulsed with light.

From above, her own cerulean gaze glared down at her. She liked her strawberry blonde hair but scowled at her red, lupine ears and flicking tail.

Why couldn’t SHE pass for human, too? Reflections of her siblings haunted her.

She ran until her feet numbed. WHY wasn’t she as tactical or more tuned into nature?

Why was she STUCK between them? Tears fell.

She ran faster, but couldn’t reach the end. Anger flooded her, and she struck the mirrors, shattering them on impact. They reassembled instantaneously.

The space beneath reflected nothing. She dropped to her knees and wept even more.

Sam would never escape their shadows.

One of the mirrors burst without warning, shards hovering in the air. Sam turned, seeing a young, black-haired woman on the ground.

“Ow… That actually hurt…” The woman stood, spying Sam. “Oh… hello. This your dream? I’m Valerie. Sorry about the mirror.”

The shards didn’t mend. Sam hastily scrubbed away her tears. “How…are you here?”

“I…fell.” Valerie touched her chin. “I can walk through dreams, and sometimes… Well, I fall into other people’s. You have a lot of mirrors here. Though… these reflections aren’t you. Friends? Family?”

“No one you should worry about.” Sam stared at the empty space. “WHY are you here?”

“Look, I didn’t mean to be here. It was an accident. I’ll leave, if you want, but… I can see this isn’t pleasant for you. If you need someone to talk to, I could hang around for a bit.”

Sam snarled. “No, thanks. Leave.” Her knees touched her chin, and her ears and tail drooped.

Valerie raised her hands.

“Okay. Sorry for dropping in like this.” She began retreating. “I’ll find an exit.”

Sam studied the shards.

“There’s NEVER an exit.”

Valerie smiled. “There’s always one; you just have to find it.” She extended a hand. “Let me show you.”

“I’m never able to leave.”

“WE will.”

With Valerie’s help, Sam stood.

Valerie gently led her out.

Behind them, the mirror slowly repaired itself.

Rattus
Rattus
1 month ago

Greed
by Gerrit (Rattus)

It could be anything. A gargoyle, an incubus, perhaps one of the Named Ones. Though if it was the latter, she may have bitten off more than she could chew.

Narine stepped through the gorge with no small measure of caution, each shifting pebble underfoot threatening to betray her approach. Her sword hung loose in one hand, her grip ready to tighten for a swing at a moment’s notice.

She checked over her supplies one last time. Holy water, caltrops, a blowgun. A gas mask hanging around her collar, and as many knives as she could fit on her person. She was as prepared as anyone could hope to be.

Somewhere between these rocky walls, hiding amidst the darkness and stone, lurked a demon. A foul creature born of fire and smoke, preying on unsuspecting people who dared stray too far from the safety of their settlements.

Wind whistled through the ravine, rustling the leaves of the few trees stubborn enough to grow here. As she drew closer her breaths became shallower, the palms of her hand slicking with sweat.

One final turn around a sheer cliff face, and she found herself staring at her target. And in that moment she realized that she never could have been prepared.

Mammon stood before her, covered head to toe in finery and riches, the flames of Hell reflected in the jewels of his crown. Where he stood the shallow light of the moon seemed to bend around him, the air surrounding him somehow darker.

As their eyes met, a twisted smile formed on his lips. A chuckle rumbled out of his mouth, echoing through the expanse as though it were coming from all around her. His voice, deep and commanding, cut through to her core.

“About time we met in person, Princess.”

Calliope Rannis
Calliope Rannis
1 month ago

A Dark Path (Nyx’s Story)
By Calliope Rannis

Nyx treaded carefully down into the opened passage, accompanied only by the bloody moonlight of the false temple above. Beyond the stairwell, the small hallway was utterly lightless.

She squinted, trying to adjust her eyes. Gnomes like her had naturally good vision in darkness…or they were supposed to, anyway. But her eyes were slower to adapt than most.

“That’s probably the human in us!” Her mother had light-heartedly stated once. Nyx remembered that sentence with a grimace. Yes, it probably was.

Still, she thought as she walked deeper into the corridor, it’s not like she needed to worry. After all, she had done exactly what her Lord had asked.

The light of the stairwell faded with distance, as the darkness continued unrelentingly onwards. Gods, the silence was suffocating. Her footsteps, her breathing, even her thoughts felt louder than they had ever been.

Thoughts like the face of that man, when he- when she-

He had been too loud and bold for his own good. What did he think was going to happen, when he kept talking about her Lord like that? In public, no less?

Of course someone would have had to deal with him. It didn’t matter that it had been her. Someone would have had to do it.

Nyx quickened her cautious pace a little, trying not to think too hard about her day. And failing.

She – she hadn’t done anything. Not really. It had been the poison that had killed him, not her!

Anyone could have delivered it. Anyone!

She wasn’t in trouble. Lord Lectara had wanted this. There was no danger here…

No. Danger had always been here.

And now, she’d become part of the danger too.

A speck of light caught her eyes. A single candle flame, hovering in the void.

Nyx stumbled to a halt, as she realised that the walls of the passage had fallen away into a much larger room. The only light was the candle…and above it, a pair of burning red eyes.

“Miss Nyx Murnor,” Lord Lectara spoke, his voice resonating through her bones. “We have been waiting for you.”

Glaceon373
Glaceon373
1 month ago

In the Here and Now
by Carrie (Glaceon373)

“Well, we made it.” I place my hands on my hips. “Door 100.”

“Honessstly, I thought it’d be fancier,” the snake wrapped around my arm hisses.

“The fancy door was the ACTUAL Door 100, you doof,” chirps the bird on my shoulder. “We didn’t start going through doors in this hallway until, uh, Door 15? 14, maybe? Is this actually our 100th door?”

“You ssshould think about that for, like, hoursss,” the snake grins.

“No thanks,” I sigh. “I’d rather think about how we plan to open this door. Ideas?”

“Oh! Another DiamondBridge piece?” the bird asks.

“Hmm… nah,” I say. “We just did two in a row.”

“Maybe, jussst maybe, they’re getting bored—ouch!” the snake starts before the bird pecks its tail.

“I know they’re not bored of it, you anxiety metaphor,” I chuckle. “And besides, it doesn’t matter if they are or not, right?”

“Yeah!” The mouse in my pocket pumps its tiny fist in the air. “We care about ourselves! We’re improving every day!”

“Are you sssure?” asks the snake, pretending not to stare hungrily at the mouse.

“Snake, I appreciate your input, but please shush,” I say.

“We still need an idea,” squawks the bird. “And it should be special, too. It’s a special day, a special door, so it deserves a special piece. Right?”

I look around the hallway, throwing a glance over my shoulder. There are doors upon doors that I’ve opened, sometimes ripped off their hinges, sometimes just barely wide enough to fit through.

But, of course, this isn’t the only hallway. I’ve gone through hundreds already. Hallways for writing groups and friendships and interests and learning, and I go through them all at once.

Except for the ones that have ended. I don’t like thinking about those ones.

And, most importantly, I don’t want to end this one.

I look back at the door in front of me. A little placard, golden with black text, displays the prompt, as per usual.

“Hey, guys?” I pull a pencil from behind my ear. “When did I last write in the present tense?”

MasaCur
MasaCur
1 month ago

What Happened Here?
By MasaCur

Shigure advanced upon the farm house, revolver in hand. After cocking his head to the side and hearing nothing, he waved. Sonja rushed forward.

“There’s no one around,” Shigure said. He pointed at the hen house nearby. “Over half the chickens are dead. The ones that aren’t have taken to eating the ones that are. No one’s here to feed them.”

“We should check the house,” Sonja replied.

Shigure holstered the revolver and pushed back his Stetson. “I don’t think we’re going to find those missing yokai. At least not living, at any rate.”

“If we find their corpses, then we’ll at least know what happened to them.” Sonja tried the front door of the house. It swung open freely. “You should check the root cellar.”

Shigure circled to the side of the house, and pulled at the cellar doors. The smell of spoiled eggs permeated the air, but underneath it all, he could also smell the rot of flesh. He descended into the darkness, his eyes quickly adapting to the lack of light.

A hallway ran off the end of the cellar, and at the end was a door. Shigure advanced upon it, the smell of desiccating flesh growing stronger as he did. He kicked the door open.

Inside was what could only be described as the cross between a prison and a laboratory. Humanoids, not quite human, were slumped in cages. All dead, but not of starvation. It was as if something carved into the back of their heads.

Lying on the floor was one of the human hunters that had imprisoned them, the back of his head also cut open. A notebook was clutched in his hand, and Shigure flipped through it.

The door swung open. Shigure drew his gun, but saw it was only Sonja.

“The entire family of hunters is dead upstairs,” she said.

“The yokai are as well. No sign of what killed them..”

Sonja nodded. “Gather up the notes; we’ll go through them on the road. I’ll burn the place to the ground when we leave.”

Last edited 1 month ago by MasaCur
i-prefer-the-term-antihero
i-prefer-the-term-antihero
1 month ago

The Skeleton in the Closet (The Ballad of the Monsters: Peter)
By i-prefer-the-term-antihero (Kaylie Hatch)

For as long as I could remember, that door stood closed.

At first I thought nothing of it. It was the attic. My father was always the one to retrieve things from it. I couldn’t find the key. It was creepy, and dusty, and there were spiders up there. Why would I go in?

It took me a while to realize…Victor didn’t want me up there.

There were things in this house I didn’t see.

Some things children ought not see. I’d trusted his judgement.

My hand shook as I inserted the key, and the door creaked like all proper creepy-attic-doors should.

I’d trusted him.

At first glance it was an ordinary attic; junk, and knickknacks, and tarps over old furniture.

Then something stirred.

I gasped, turning, heart clamoring.

Probably just a mouse or moth.

Two staggered thuds.

Slow.

Dragging.

I held out my candle.

Walking towards me.

Pale, waxy skin. Moth-eaten clothes. Milky eyes. Stitches.

I screamed, flying onto a stack of boxes.

It came closer.

It—

She.

The realization crashed into my brain like lightning.

My eyes widened.

“No,” I breathed. And then I didn’t.

I tried to get more distance and fell hard onto the floor.

“No. No.” I backed up against the wall. “Nononono.”

She stopped. Something in the milk of her eyes churned.

I covered my mouth, trying not to scream, or cry, or throw up.

Something flung me backwards—she lifted her hand towards me, her blank expression straining—slammed the door, and I fell at the bottom of the stairs into what could only be my father’s arms.

My father.

Victor Frankenstein.

Horror and longing shackled my breath. Questions strung my thoughts. Red painted my gaze.

“What did you do to my mother?” I whispered, words boiling.

I had only seen my mother in paintings and pictures, but this was her. Her corpse, preserved the day she died. The day I was born. A pressed, wilted flower living forever in this attic, dancing with brooms and rats.

His nails dug into my arm. He sighed loud and long.

“I tried to save her life.”

Last edited 28 days ago by i-prefer-the-term-antihero
RVMPLSTLTSKN
RVMPLSTLTSKN
1 month ago

What Happens at The House
By RVMPLSTLTSKN (The Saga of The Deep One’s Wake)

The Usurper’s emissary came to the House. Was sent.

He was a man thick of body and mind. His memories and past, like jade, stood in relief on his muscles. The scars there told a story of trust and betrayal and vengeance. He used to be one of a set.

The god Charn welcomed him, as Charn welcomed all who came to the House, and invited him to stay.

The emissary accepted, but at dinner, seeing the meal, he drew from his pack that mark of his station, a weapon of silver and quartz. A spear to kill gods.

Charn, the masked god, got the first thrust as only someone who knows the manner of things can. He took apart that godslayer and fashioned from it, crudely and quickly, utensils for eating.

The emissary fled, unable to exit the House—for no mortal who comes to the House can leave—and so he ran down the long hallway, past the alcoves of past residents and arrivals, past the catacombs of stacked bones and gristle. He ran, a man pursued by his past as much as his future, until he reached the end of the hallway.

MY GUESTS ARE NOT USUALLY SO LIVELY, Charn told him. NOR SO RUDE.

The emissary laughed, hysterical. “You know nothing of rudeness! You offer me that to eat?”

YOUR MASTER KNEW. JUST AS HE KNEW WHAT THE WANDERER WOULD DO.

The horror on the man’s face revealed his hidden fears.

YOU MAY HAVE SLAIN YOUR BROTHER, BUT SHE DID NOT TEMPT HIM ALONE. IT WAS YOUR MASTER’S PLAN. DO YOU TRULY BELIEVE YOU ARE SO DIFFERENT AS TO ASCEND LIKE HIM? YOU ARE HIS CREATURE AND IF YOU WILL NOT FEED HIM, YOU WILL FEED ME.

Charn left there with more jade than the god had ever felt, but the ghastly red grin beneath the porcelain mask never faltered.

Those who ponder the manner of things sometimes neglect to remember the appetite of gods. A satiated god is a god who no longer needs mortals.

GJFuller
GJFuller
1 month ago

Tales From the Infinite Hallway: The End of the Infinite
By Giovanna J. Fuller

“We’ve been walking for three hours,” Angela groaned. She slumped against the wall between two doors, one made of a green gelatin with purple spheres suspended within and one that was painted white with pink flowers on it.

“And we’ve gone further than anyone’s ever gone!”

“It’s the INFINITE hallway! There is no end!”

Marsh scoffed. “Nothing is infinite. Everything has a beginning and an end. The beginning starts at your door and ends…”

The red haired witch flopped on the ground. “I can’t go on. Marsh,” here her voice became a sort of over dramatic weariness and she reached out to him, “tell my story. Don’t let my memory die here. Bleh.” She stuck out her tongue and went limp as though dead.

Marshall rolled his eyes and grabbed her ankle. He only had to drag her a few feet before she wriggled out of his grasp and scurried to her feet. She brushed some dust off her pants and glared at him. “If I had known this was what you wanted to do with your adventure ticket, then I would have stolen it before you cashed it in.”

“Three Angie adventures for one Marshall adventure. That’s the deal.”

“It’s a stupid deal. All your adventures involve us ‘learning’ something.” She said ‘learning’ as though it were a dirty word.

“And all your adventures involve us nearly dying.” He turned his back on her and continued down the passageway. “I know there’s an end soon. It has-.”

“Marshall…”

He stopped. “What?”

“Hmm?”

“You said my name. What is it?”

“Wasn’t me.”

“Maaarrrrshallll…”

“There it is!” He gave Angela a look. “Stop it.”

“I’m not doing it!” She was adamant.

“MARSHAL!”

Both parties screamed, turned on their heels, and ran back in the direction of their door.

A crackled voice, like that of an old radio filled the emptiness of the abandoned space. “Seek out not the answers of eternity…for if you chase into the abyss, the abyss chases also after you…”

The strange voice chuckled before slinking back into the unknown, uncharted hallway.

Last edited 1 month ago by GJFuller
Connor/Dragoneye
Connor/Dragoneye
1 month ago

The Solid Way
By Connor/Dragoneye

“Augmentation is the enemy of growth. Inner workings are the ally of growth. Growth leads to power, and power leads to a pure soul.”

Ksutan sat alone in his room in a lotus position, his hands cradled in his lap. He focused on every intake of air collecting through his respiratory tubing and entering into his bloodstream pump. He hadn’t meditated for a long time ever since he returned from his pilgrimage through the Ferros Desert. The blistering heat and blasts of iron dust from the winds made it hard to focus on anything but the pain.

A servant then poked her head into his room. “Ksutan. The Headmaster wishes to see you.”

He immediately rose to his feet, straightened out his robe, and pressed his hands together with a bow. The servant then led Ksutan to the end of the temple hall.

As he passed into the room, the Headmaster’s face was barely illuminated by the candlelight, her plain mask made of a humble steel and her filament hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. “Ksutan.”

“Master, you called for me?”

Her eyes scanned him up and down. “Do you know of Palaph’s whereabouts?”

“I do not.”

She stroked her chin. “I fear he’s strayed to the Allagia Dromo.”

Ksutan could feel his coolant vents flair at the sound of those dreaded words. “You believe he follows the Kallierge?”

“He was from the House of Blackmorne. Rife with Allagian traditions.”

“Would you have me return to the Ferros Desert in search of him?” Ksutan asked.

The Headmaster shook her head. “I need you to keep your eyes out for other acolytes like him. Those who would betray their oaths.”

Ksutan tilted his head. “And if I find any?”

She tapped her fingers together in contemplation. “Bring them to me. I will straighten them out.”

Ksutan felt an uncertain dread situated in his bloodstream. The word choice was far from easy to parse. “You have my word.”

Marx
Marx
1 month ago

You Should Have Gone For The Head (Overly Familiar AU) (CW: Suicide attempts)
By Marx

Matt snapped his fingers. And he snapped them again.

And again.

And again.

“Please, Beloved.” Death pleaded, her usually steady voice quaking in terror. “Please stop this…”

“It’s just an experiment.” Matt replied with an eerie calm.

Snap.

Snap.

Snap.

“Matt… I know you’re hurting, but this isn’t-”

“Hurting?” Matt snapped again. “Why would I be hurting? Because my familiar is dead?”

Snap.

“Because my best friend is dead?”

Snap.

“That sweet goddess who just… who just wanted to exist and have a life…? Dead. And I’m supposed to be… what? Happy that I can’t die with them? Because Death won’t let me die?”

Snap.

“Heaven smited them, not me.” Death’s eyes continued to focus fearfully on Matt’s snapping fingers.

“You’re right. You’re just the bullet. You don’t control who points you where.”

Snap.

Snap.

“Matt! Stop!”

“I’m just curious, is all…” Matt looked at his fingers. “I mean… we’re the same race, right? And death as a concept only exists because you do. So logically… shouldn’t I have my own death? A death that you can’t bring me back from?”

Snap.

“What do you want from me?” Death finally caved in. “Do you want me to bring them back? To break the rules of my existence for you?”

“You know… when I figure this out, you’ll know how it feels to have everything you care about taken from you.” Matt looked into Death’s eyes as he snapped again. “You won’t have your fated horseman anymore. You’ll just be… alone.”

At Matt’s next snap, a tunnel appeared before them. Matt smiled widely, slowly cocking his head to the side as the tunnel formed into a hallway with a singular door. When Matt snapped again, the door got closer. “I wonder…”

“STOP! OKAY! O… okay… You win…” Death clung dejectedly to Matt’s arm. “I’ll do whatever you want…”

Matt pat Death’s head as one would a pet. “I want to kill Fate.”

“Fate just is, Beloved. It isn’t a being who can be killed. It’s an unseen force that guides all things.”

“I. Want. To kill. Fate.”

“…yes, Beloved…”