Writing Group: A Single Blade of Grass

Hello, Landscapers and Lawnmowers!

There are so many little things in our lives, easy to ignore or pass by. So often we go about our days without paying any mind to where we place our feet. I think it’s time we looked a little closer at what we’re stepping on because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

A Single Blade of Grass

RULES AND GUIDELINES BELOW!
Make sure you scroll down and read them if you haven’t! You may not be eligible if you don’t!

We’re all told to “stop and smell the flowers,” but we rarely manage even that much. There are things even smaller than flowers, even easier to overlook, to ignore, to trample in our pursuits. We walk upon the grass, disregarding any single blade just looking for a little sunlight. We are told “the grass is greener” merely because it is on the other side, when in truth the grass beneath our feet is green enough. Sometimes we’re told to “touch grass” because we’ve lost sight of reality, stuck inside—be it inside our houses, or our own minds. Maybe we, and our characters, need some reminders of these lessons. 

Maybe a single blade of grass can have some use. Maybe it can be the final ingredient in a potion a witch is brewing. Maybe a bird needs the perfect piece of grass to finish its nest. Maybe a child wants to make duck calls in the park. We often see “Don’t step on the grass” signs, maybe stepping off the path will lead to greater consequences than a cranky old man’s scolding. Or maybe it’s greater than that; maybe, like stepping on a butterfly, the death of a single blade of grass can change the course of history as we know it. 

You could write a story about someone who feels sick and scared while flying in a plane, helicopter, hot air balloon, or superhero’s back, who misses the grass. Someone who moved to a desert planet who longs to return to their lush home. You could write about someone who has never felt grass before; like Rapunzel, trapped in her tower, never knowing what it is to feel the ground. Maybe someone had a disease that kept them from going outside, and can now finally take their first step out the door. Maybe someone living in an apocalyptic world finds a single piece of grass, and knows then that life can return to the world.

Or you could write from the perspective of the blade of grass itself, merely trying to live. Perhaps frisbee in the park is a great war to the kingdom of grass, and the single blade is one soldier in the army. Perhaps it has had to watch its brethren mowed down, one by one, fearing its turn. Perhaps it experiences a dramatic death at the hands—or feet—of the humans who don’t pay it any mind. Perhaps it is the only survivor of the greatest battle in the kingdom’s history: a schoolwide game of tag.

A duck call, a sword blade, a metaphor, a last ray of hope, a sign of doom…a single blade of grass. The little things can be more important than one might initially think. Just like a single person can have more impact on the world than their everyday life might imply. 

Now, will you take that first step outside?

—Kaylie

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.


Comments

136 responses to “Writing Group: A Single Blade of Grass”

  1. Belladonna by Floor

    He was lying down, allowing the swift breeze to flow through him. Trying his best to simulate breathing. Contracting his muscles, allowing his chest to expand, to then let it go again. It was nice to feel what he lost so many centuries ago. As he continued imitating life, almost in an alien way, he thought to himself.

    -“Would it make others feel more comfortable to see me breathing, or should I stop trying to appear as something I’m not. Whatever answer I choose, it does not change the fact that I shouldn’t be here… Thinking hurts. Maybe I should go back to my task.”

    As he was debating what should be his next move, the skeleton took out a blue journal. And as he was glancing over the pages he stopped at an empty one. There, from his cold mouth came the word:

    -“Silence.”

    Afterwards, he quietly put the journal over his face. Covering it completely. Then he just let himself feel. He touched the grass below, he tried to get its softness, but his gloves stood in the way. But even without them, he did not feel. He tried to get his right hand to sense the sun’s warmth, but it continued to be cold. Disappointed, he let it fall, defeated, but stopped mid air. Mere centimeters from hitting a small creature. It was crawling around, the way it moved through the pasture, pulling its body forward, he wanted to touch it, but his bones were not as sensitive to perceive the bug once it was close enough.

    After some time, he tried listening. By this point the birds should be heading back to their nests. He was able to hear their wings flapping around, the way they touched the branches, and, he felt something else, he heard the chicks chirping once their parents came back. It was the kind of sound to make one lively. And as such, he lifted the book. Stood up, and said.

    -“So, I need to get a Belladonna? Then, should we start this quest, shouldn’t we… Fae?”

  2. Carmesi Avatar
    Carmesi

    The Exhibition
    By: Carmesi

    “Some of these artifacts date to thousands of years before our arrival, the civilizations that produced them long gone,” the guide droned on in her plasticy customer-service tone.

    The sheer age of everything around me left me speechless. The torn pages with handwritten scripts readable to no one, the everyday utensils, the carved stone and polished metal stared at me from behind glass cages. These small, mundane items filled the room with their presence.

    “Exciting, isn’t it?” The guide chimed. People murmured in half-hearted agreement. Appreciation for pairs of socks in dyes that no longer existed or the inner components of old machinery known as “computers” ran low.

    “Just wait until you see this!” The lack of excitement could not phaze her. “The crown jewel of this exhibition is just around the corner.” She turned and slid forward. I considered staying behind. Gaudy, over-hyped exhibitions had a habit of disappointing me.

    The crowd stopped just before a small transparent cube. Glass? I began to spin a backstory for it in silence. Maybe it was the first piece of glass ever made, a feat in technology for its primitive age. Or maybe it had been used as the murder weapon against a high-profile politician, back when politics were a thing. Maybe it was a rare material that humans had mined into extinction, and this was one of the last samples left. I shoved my way through the crowd, eager to take a closer look.

    As I drew closer, its shape became clearer. It wasn’t glass; the strange dance of light wasn’t there. And inside it was nested a strange object: A bright-green thread, flat and wider at the bottom.

    “This,” she began with misplaced pride, “is the last piece of organic matter found on Earth. As you remember, various languages were commonly spoken, only a few of which we’ve been able to partially reconstruct. One common name for this was grass. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

    I wondered what would be left of us one day, gathering dust under the scrutiny of thousands of eyes.

    1. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      This brought back some echoes of that so often quoted line from Percy Shelley: “Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!”. Having the visitor to the exhibition wonder on what will remain of them in their future hits the message of the inevitability of being surpassed by time very nicely.

      There are some questions that make me wonder what is the relation the visitors have with the civilization whose remains are the artifacts of the exhibition. Specially on the commentary of that far-gone era where politics might still be a thing… it implies these visitors do not experience politics (which is a strange idea), and moreover, that although they don’t experience it, it is a know concept, even though they have only been able to partially reconstruct some languages. These are not questions that detract from the writing, they are another way to engage generatively with it… each reading I might construe an idea of how these beings are and what their life, society and civilization might be, even though none of these answers are necessary for the story to work.

      So, no critiques, really. Great tale.

      1. Carmesi Avatar
        Carmesi

        Thank you very much! I was trying to leave enough ambiguity with the setting and characters to leave the reader with those questions, and I’m glad to hear it came through.

    2. This was a nice reading overall. I was kept engaged from beginning to end with this tale about this futuristic civilization. I finished the reading with some questions, but in the good sense. There’s so much potential here, but, let’s focus on the main story first.

      I think that it tells a solid message overall regarding the passage of time, how things that we value and see as absolutes that will always stick with us might not be present in future eras. How things like politics which seems to be a topic none can escape nowadays seems irrelevant to them. How a blade of grass that we see as common, might be the most valuable reminder of who we were. And how we should appreciate it.

      1. Carmesi Avatar
        Carmesi

        Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed the story. It’s exciting to see I could convey the themes I set out to. I loved exploring how different this future society is from ours, while still having some universality in it, where they value history enough to have (crowded) museums, and the main character empathizes and sees a connection between human civilization and her civilization. I really like thinking about history + the importance of everyday objects + what will survive us and tell our stories when we’re gone.

  3. All She Needed (Chronicles of The Dragon)
    By Makokam

    She ran down the hall of the laboratory, looking quickly from room to room. A rapid set of clawed footfalls and heavy snuffling made her dart around a corner.

    She did her best to keep her breathing quiet. The thing was big, and strong, and fast, but it didn’t seem to have as much endurance as her. Which was the only reason she was still alive.

    It certainly wasn’t the choices she’d made.

    Why had she let herself get separated from the rest of her team? Why hadn’t she been more careful with how she’d used her seeds? Why did she keep running deeper into this maze of labs and storage rooms? Well, that last one she had an answer to.

    She didn’t have anywhere else to go.

    As long as she stayed alive, then her team had a chance to come save her. But that was far easier said than done at this point.

    She peaked around the corner.

    The hulking thing took up most of the hallway, blocking the way back just by existing, and she hadn’t been able to find another way. Being able to initiate and control literally explosive growth in plants, didn’t help without plants.

    The huffing grew noticeably softer, and then the footsteps started again.

    She turned and ran down the hall, with the beast in hot pursuit.

    “HELP!” she yelled, just in case it’d help her team find her.

    Rounding a corner, the hall abruptly ended with a door. She threw it open and stopped. The bright and sterile halls were gone, only a stone tunnel. Before she could think about it, the beast slammed through the wall, stumbling as it went. She started running again.

    There was light up ahead. Natural light. She ran harder.

    The opening was blinding light, and beyond it was more stone and cement. But there was something else. She could feel it.

    The beast roared as it barreled around the corner and out of the tunnel, before going stiff and collapsing to skid across the ground. A single, massive, blade of grass spearing down its throat.

    1. Cromillea Avatar
      Cromillea

      I love imagining this chase scene. The lab setting, the raging monster, the frantic escape is so fun. The idea that the creature cannot be immediately dealt with, but only survived is scary.

      I wish that there was a visual description of the beast or how it sounds or smells. Sometimes its spookier to hide the threat so maybe adding details of the wreckage it caused could be cool.

      A single blade of grass took down the creature! Only one does the trick, but I wonder what she could do with even more plants.

      Thanks for sharing your story!

      1. Thank you for the review, I’m glad you liked it!

        This was just a little snippet of what I’d like to be whole story arc. In short, Resident Evil but with Superheroes.
        (note: no zombies, just bio-weapons)

        And then of course the word count had to take it’s pound of flesh, so other details got trimmed.

    2. You built the tension very well in this! You explained how she got to the situation she’s in without it being too expositiony and “she didn’t have anywhere else to go” shows the desperation she’s in. I also like how she carries her salvation with her this whole time but she cannot use it because of her surroundings.
      Have a like and keep up the good work ^^

      1. Thank you!

        This was a tough one, but I’m pretty happy with the result. I’m glad it worked for you as well.

    3. Now THAT is Bladey Grass.

      I like how you let the reader deduce that your protagonist has plant powers and having seeds on stock is essential to their battle prowess. I am taking notes for the “show don’t tell” parts of my novel writing.

      😀

      Thank you for this very vital lesson.

      1. A VERY bladey grass.

        I’m glad you liked it! And if you learned something from it, then I’m doubly glad.

    4. “TOUCH GRASS DEMON SCUM!!!”

      This was a fun little read. Everything is explained and everything turned out all right.

      The clues for the reader to understand the ending are “planted”, hehe, throughout the story. That monster choked on a giant single piece of grass, that she found in a certain part of the lab, and used explosive growth on.

      My dude ate grass, and died by it.

      There’s a butt joke in here, butt I’m not going to tell it.

      Take my like. And use grass responsibly.

      1. Haha! Not a demon, but otherwise quite accurate.

        Glad you liked the story. Thanks for reading.

    5. Ooooh! I like this one. It does pretty well with the horror vibe. You’re just thrown in the middle of the chase scene and that works. You feel the character’s panic and most importantly, you introduce why she’s so helpless. Not just because she’s being chased but because she’s literally out of her element.

      That makes the ending that much more satisfying, because you get the payoff for paying attention as well as a happy ending of when you say she causes explosive growth in plants, you weren’t kidding. The ending was short and brutal which only helped the story that much more.

      Loved this take on the prompt.

      1. Thank you!

        I like the idea that she’s able to give the plants all the fuel they need to grow as big as she wants and however she wants. So, in my mind, the blade of grass grew like a striking snake.

        And the chase was…oh boy. I wrote so much and then remembered, “Oh right, I have to get her AND the beast to grass…” Glad you enjoyed the intial horror aspect. It’s not something I dabble in often, but it’s fun to dip my toe in now and then.

  4. Jayden Avatar
    Jayden

    The Girl Who Protects The Grass
    By: Jayden

    Everyone in town knows of the so-called “crazy woman” that sits in front of the town park and yells at the people who walk on the grass. Everyone ignores her. They don’t even know her name. People say that she was locked in a basement all her life and when she finally escaped, she was in awe of the lush grass and gorgeous flowers found in the park and vowed to protect them. The problem is, no one had any proof of an abused childhood but that’s because no one has even talked to her.

    After 10 years of the woman yelling at children, elderly and other citizens and tourists of the town, she was arrested by the city sheriff by a complaint by one of the neighborhood Karen’s. As she was taken in for questioning, a nice cop came into the interrogation room to talk.

    The cop’s platinum blonde hair tied in a bun and blue eyes gave the woman a sort of calmness rush over her. She felt as if she’s seen the cop.

    “What is your name?” The cop asked. The woman knew she had the right to remain silent but she didn’t want to get in trouble and felt obligated to answer the questions.

    “Heather, Heather Patton.” The lady responded. The cop wrote it down on her note pad and continue to speak, knowing that somewhere in her mind, she remembered that name.

    “Why do you yell at people in the park?” The blue eyed blonde asked.

    “You don’t understand.” Heather said. She looked down and started to fiddle with her fingers. The cop sat down in front of her and put Heather’s hands in her’s.

    “Hey, it’s okay. You’re not in trouble. I just want to understand, so help me.” Heather maneuvered her chocolate eyes to the sky blue ones that laid on her.

    Heather gulped and started to talk. “We walk around and text on our phones, read social media and pay no mind to the beauty that surrounds us. People crush the blades of grass, not paying attention to the bugs that find refuge in their vast forests. The wild flowers that grow within those grasses have immense beauty, but no one notices. I took it upon myself to protect the plant life that people so shamelessly trample.”

    The cop was almost in tears. She never noticed the world around her. Never “stopped to smell the roses” as people say. She smiled at Heather. “You can go and you and I can talk to the mayor.” Heather was confused for a moment.

    “About what?” She asked.

    “About making a law to not walk on the grass in the park.” Heather smiled and got up from her seat. She shook the cops hand and thanked her.

    “Hey, before you go, did you go to St. Petersburg highschool?” The cop asked.

    It took a second for Heather to register what was being asked. “Oh my god, you’re Ashley Statan. You were my best friend until you went to law school.”

    “Yeah.” Ashley frowned, sadden how she could forget about her best friend who grew up to become this beautiful, kind, nature loving person. Someone she always wanted to be. “Hey, let’s go get some coffee.”

    Heather smiled, hoping to reconnect to her long lost friend. “I’d like that.”

    1. I really liked this one. The way you described the feelings she had towards nature, and how you wrote her little mannerisms. It tells you quite well that even though her behavior appears to be aggressive and irrational, once you get to talk with her you understand the sanity that remains within. The nice person that tries to do the best to defend something she cares for, but did not find a better way to express.

      I wish to see more from you in the future.

  5. Cheezesammich Avatar
    Cheezesammich

    The Implications
    By Cheezesammich

    Grandfather,

    No doubt by now you’ve heard from your former colleagues at Edinburgh of my dismissal from the university’s research faculty. They have the scientific community convinced of my ineptitude, labelling me a fraud and discrediting my research in the development of the gamma ptychography microscope. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have not, could not, ever besmirch the legacy you started with your foundational work in gamma ptychography.

    The machine was a success. In honour of your first experiments, I had it examine a single blade of grass at scales previously thought impossible.

    The first test of the microscope gave images so detailed, I could see the texture of the subatomic particles within the grass. It was incredible; oscillating faintly on the surface of each one of the particles was a tiny hexagonal pattern, perfectly symmetrical and perfectly spaced.

    Inspired, I pushed deeper – hidden within the structure of each of those subatomic particles was what looked, unmistakably, like stars. Perhaps unbelievable, but it’s true. Probing deeper again, I found, surrounding some of the stars, clearly designed structures – Dyson spheres! Do you understand what that means? Civilization! As I looked further, I only found more evidence – ships flying between the stars, structures that redirected them – remarkable!

    As I sat, absorbing this discovery, a thought occurred to me. I fed the machine data from the telescopes in earth’s orbit and I found the exact same hexagonal patterns surrounding us in space, like a barrier surrounding the universe. I trust you understand the gravity of what that could mean.

    Unfortunately, when the other researchers caught wind of my discoveries, they decided it would be better to bury my work, than for the world to suffer the implications.

    I’m sending you what remains of my research because of the hope that you still hold some sway amongst Edinburgh’s faculty. I hope that, as they lock me out of my own lab, you are still able to continue my research.

    Unlike my peers, I do not fear the truth. Damn the implications, we must finish what was started.

    Forever Seeking,

    Yichen Li.

    1. writingspirit Avatar
      writingspirit

      This was a cool take on the prompt. I like the style choice of it being an external letter rather than focusing on the internal moment of the narrator discovering there is advanced life on a single blade of glass.

    2. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      That was a curious one to read. Very interesting concept, and the register chosen to convey it works really well. Conveying the results of a discredited experiment due to the implications and still charge the text with wonder and emotion – in a letter that is both justification, explanation and a kind of plea for continuation is greatly done. There is also some tones of a call for a conspiracy or secret cabal of True Researchers, considering the idea of Forbidden Truths due to their implication, which really resonates with the somewhat Hermetic (in the more literal sense) idea unveiled by the observation – so below as above, but in this particular case, the microworld below seem to be even more advanced, or at least more accessible for those above to start perceiving what might be out there!

      I confess I have a little bit of difficult in detaching myself from questioning on the logistics of the experiment in order to truly appreciate the flow of the text. Gamma radiation may have a short wavelenght, but penetrating subatomic particles and beyond in order to get to an entire universe opens questions not just on the nature of that universe and what is in there, but also on the nature of electromagnetism and the quantization of the universe! Still, it does not detract from the story, but it makes me want to engage with it in a kind of debate about what is being said in a very scientific basis… so I’d say it works!

      Also, the whole contrast of finding Dyson spheres of all things in a microuniverse hidden in the subatomic particles of a blade of grass is a great subversion of how we think of scale, and it is great.

      Great tale! Very engaging.

    3. Ooo! What a monologue! I’m a sucker for the Scientist that’s made to look crazy, but they’re not.

      It really makes me wonder what his colleagues are so afraid of if the info was released to the public. What’s the public going to do? Become so mentally broken that it haults all production and breaks the economy, as everyone riots at the new information that makes their pathetic existence a reality to them.

      I think they’re overreacting.

      Now on behalf of me of the community of Me, I now press the like button. Good show!

    4. Carmesi Avatar
      Carmesi

      Fascinating concept! You were able to explore very interesting themes of truth and the nature of the universe withing such a short text, which is really hard to do. The narrator’s personality shines through, and there are clear stakes, both personal and on a higher level. The epistolary framing works great to communicate a lot to the reader within a very strict word count.

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

    A Single Thread
    By i-prefer-the-term-antihero (Kaylie Hatch)

    The blade of grass swayed in the wind, trying to stay anchored, hoping it wouldn’t blow away.

    That would be one of the worst ways to go; torn up by a particularly strong breeze. It’d seen it before.

    The wind carried a few things with it. A leaf, a seed, a spiderling, ballooning. The spider’s thread fell near the blade of grass, onto the flower beside it. It wondered if any of the spider’s siblings would find their way here.

    A bird flew by overhead. Maybe that would be how it would go: plucked for a nest, or to get at a worm beneath.

    The spider crawled up the flower and created a strand of silk, threading it through its back legs.

    The grass thought of the big ones’ paws and feet; bending them, sometimes breaking them, just for a place to walk. Luckily none of the two-stepped had come by in a while. If they had, it would be too late. It’d heard horror stories of shiny things.

    But that didn’t mean it was safe. Surely, before long, it would be plucked, or picked, or shorn for a path, a hat, or a game. It had watched so many of its brethren cut down. It was just one blade in a field. It would die worthless. It wouldn’t make a difference to anyone.

    The spider tied each end of its web home. To the grass’s surprise, the spider tied the final end to it. The silk was tight, but not too tight. Snug, was the word.

    The spider began to create the inner layers of its web. The grass watched as the spider wove each line, creating new clothes for it on each pass by until it created a tapestry of a home, shimmering in the sunlight.

    The grass looked at the sky full of untold horrors waiting to swoop. It looked at the ground, full of terrors waiting to unearth. It looked at the spider, waiting for a meal.

    The spider, who had chosen it for its home.

    Maybe it could make a difference after all.

    1. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      Well, as people here know, I have a soft spot for spiders, so I may be partial to this one. Even then, I love how you chose to focus on how such a fragile and minor thing as a blade of grass can be important and even grand – its just a matter of scale, when we change perspective.

      I also find it very assuring that the whole story is about a blade of grass that fears its end, and the myriad ways it could come… but then, it is not security that brings that anxiety to a close, but a sense of purpose, a connection to other beings and their lives. I love that message. I also love how the image of the web being build is both an effort and a work of care, and how our attention is draw to all the possibilities it guard: home, cloth, tapestry, filter and reflector of light, lines that connect disparate things and in making new connections turn them into yet new things.

      Most stories I’ve read here had focused on how a blade of grass could be important from an outside perspective… interesting that you chose to show a blade of grass appreciating its own importance!

      Great story!

    2. I identify with the anxious paranoid blade of grass.

      It IS in a field though? Cause at first I thought it was in like… A barren lot, alone except for the dandelion, the last of it’s kind and awaiting it’s inevitable demise.

      But I knew the spider was going to be important from it’s first mention. Though, I suspected it was going to be more of a literal savoir, anchoring it to the dandelion… (I just realized you didn’t specifiy dandelion, but you didn’t say any other type so I’m gonna keep going with that.) As opposed to a moral/emotional support sort of thing.

    3. I like this. How the grass blade grows feelings for a spider in a somewhat symbiotic relationship. The spider gets a home and the grass blade feels important.

      This was nice. Take my like.

  7. writingspirit Avatar
    writingspirit

    Life After the End of the World
    by writingspirit

    The last blade of grass in existence is held within a single box of resin.

    Perhaps that statement should sadden you. It’s in your programming to care, but as you’ve discovered in the years since your creation, not even the best of science can truly duplicate human emotion. He would have cared. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have made you his heir in namesake, in the futile way only an endling could devise.

    Now, that preserved blade of grass at his bedside is yours. All the relics of his lifetime are yours. But when you touch them, you have to contend with the simple knowledge that none of them mean anything to you. While you have memories of meaning, you have none of the sentiment that made him preserve an entire lifetime in a system of wires, metal, and circuitry. Despite his efforts, you are what you are.

    The most immediate task is disposal of the body. Once that is finished, you could fulfill his last request as best you know how:

    You could live on, semi-immortal, with the knowledge of mankind. You could regrow parts of it. He preserved the seeds, but you could grow them and maintain them with the kind of minute care he never could have managed, especially not in sickness. You could keep them green instead of watching them fade like this very blade into yellow. It would take a bit of effort on your part, but you could. Are they even worth anything when the only one left to see them is you?

    You should have asked him these things before he expired three minutes and seven seconds ago.

    1. Oh this was unexpected! I really like the clinical vocabulary, the detatched-ness of this piece which gets across this neutral point of view very nicely. Just to be clear: are the plants viewed as part of the knowledge of humankind?
      To me, the real tragedy is that there apparently are no humans left and this entity had never learned anything besides a human perspective on meaning. Now it cannot learn anything anymore, at least that’s how I read this story. It’s left behind like the seeds, without a real purpose.

      1. writingspirit Avatar
        writingspirit

        Thanks so much for the feedback. I really enjoyed seeing your takeaway from it. And you pretty much got what I wanted to get across!

        To answer your question, I didn’t think of that while writing, but you could see it that way. Since this entity is the last real piece of “sentient” life on earth, its the one thing that still holds the knowledge of what grass once was. I don’t think it came across, but what I meant to hint at is that this entity is essentially a robot created by the last human being who has just now passed away. So anything like food that would be needed to sustain a living creature is doubly obsolete.

        1. Oh, it definitely came across like that! Thank you for clarifying, it totally makes sense that the meaning of plants will vanish if no knowledge is upheld.

    2. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      This was very powerful and engaging, I love this story. The choice of the narrator to address the robot in the way it does while also addressing the reader was particularly interesting and makes it all shine a lot. Makes me wonder how different the programmed emotions are compared to the natural kind (who is there to make that difference and feel it?)… perhaps the robot can feel as much as I can, and perhaps this say interesting things about both of us.

      And I may be a sucker for this stories whose premise are the sense of what has been lost when all is said and done, but I don’t really remember reading one who managed to both convey the idea of finality and a kind of hope to something that can continue and even be cared for at the same time. Nostalgic, in a sense, but also with the eyes clearly pointed toward that unknown future.

      This was truly a great tale. Thank you so much for sharing it!

      1. writingspirit Avatar
        writingspirit

        Thanks a bunch for your feedback! Your take on it being both final but hopeful is really interesting, and now that you said it, I can totally see it. Because it is very final in that the last of mankind is now effectively extinct, but at the same, his death leaves the robot free to do what it wants after this – even if said thing ends up being regrowing grass. It could choose anything, but the ending thought process is so open you can’t really say with certainty what it will choose.

    3. Welp! Time to grow ’em and find out!

      This felt a lot like a roleplay, minus the choice making. It felt like I was participating in a way.

      I also really like that the name of the last human is an Endling. THAT was creative.

      The main character is a robot that can’t feel emotions, and yet beckons important questions in the end that decide the fate of the environment, because the second to last paragraph made it seem like, even though the robot lacked emotions, it still had the ability to make a choice.

      I also like to imagine that this robot can gain the ability to feel emotion in the future by using it’s ability to find meaning to want to create emotions for itself. Though I would hate to think about how it would take regret and not be able to express it to anyone when it feels lonely.

      That makes me big sad.

      This was good. Take my like.

      1. writingspirit Avatar
        writingspirit

        Thank you for the like and your feedback! I’m really pleased that my narrator choice and open-ended nature of the story intrigued you. Imo, the robot does have the potential to feel emotion; it just couldn’t feel what its creator wanted it to feel about his past because those emotions weren’t formed organically. And hey, maybe it will create other robots some day, who knows. 😉

  8. LanaMae Avatar
    LanaMae

    Just grass
    by LanaMae

    It only takes one they say, who knew that a single blade of grass would be so devastating to the world. Well kinda , let me explain.

    I remember when it started I was out checking the crops, when I noticed something in the southwest corner of the cotton field, there was a single blade of grass, several feet tall that appeared to be growing before my eyes .

    I opened the camera on my phone and started to record it. When I stepped closer the grass seemed to turn towards me , in mere seconds I was under attack from something spore-like .

    I ran and climbed into the cab of a nearby tractor closing the door. I quickly went, back towards the homestead while calling my neighbors , asking if they had one and to warn them to stay away from it.

    Carl put me on a video call and showed me the one in his field. Against my advice he approached it . The spores covered him, transforming him into something ineffable. Like a man, with sharp talons , wings , fur and pointed ears.

    I watched him take to the skies ,then the call dropped. Over the next 24 hours more farmers in the area were ‘ transformed ‘There were reports daily from around the globe, astonishing numbers of people being changed.

    Where they went after no one knew , well until the 7th day , on that day the skies darkened in every major city in the world at noon. The creatures descended to wreak havoc .

    Every human being outside in the cities was either slaughtered or bitten. Those who were bitten mostly died after suffering for days with fevers and violent seizures.

    Some transformed into more creatures, over a period of days more people were either transformed or killed, there are a few of us left , hiding in our homes waiting to starve to death or for them to come for us .

    1. Oh my, this turned super dark super fast. I am honestly a bit shocked but this actually goes well with your story. This would make a really nice world for a post-apocalyptic story, because humanity surely is busted if they cannot even rely on plants anymore, because maybe the spores also altered the surrounding flora. Super interesting.
      Your story could benefit from a more personal approach, I think. The farmer had to witness horrible things while the earth was changed – so maybe these experiences could be described in more detail. Esp Carl’s transformation could fill up most of this story, I imagine it to be an absolutely gruesome sight. But I also understand that it is a small number of words we need to go for, so… I think I’d like to read more about this world, maybe on a smaller scale but with more depth.
      Thank you very much for sharing and depicting such a chilling scenario!

    2. Honestly, I would take this over The Happening any day. It’s just more interesting.

      I like that this gives a kind of anthological horror feel. It could be a story in Love Death + Robots, or the Illustrated Man.

      A nice take. Now have nice like.

    3. Carmesi Avatar
      Carmesi

      I like this spin on turning the blade of grass into an element of horror! I like the pacing at the beginning; it gets to the action quickly enough while still feeling like it gives you a proper introduction to the story.

      Starting sentences with “I think”, “I remember”, etc. can create a degree of separation between the narrator and the reader. I’m also not getting much about the narrator’s personality from this; I think you could work on giving him a more defined voice.

  9. A Single Blade of Grass
    By Curry (who sadly won’t be able to join the public readings)

    With a dry rustle the box slid into his hands. It wasn’t even a wooden one, but one made of those giant mushrooms that were the only thing even close to flora growing on this ice cube of a country. He sighed tensely. They wouldn’t be able to leave anytime soon – or ever.

    His hands gingerly placed the vessel on a small table, gently letting the cover slip off. Involuntarily he held in his breath.

    In his hands the small wreath lay frail, brittle on its year-old edges, its once jolly daffodils long crumpled into mere knots of fibre. They had been his daughter’s favourite, but now she had become a young lady more familiar with local trivialities than with anything distantly resembling the country she was born in. She probably wouldn’t even remember.

    He, on the contrary, knew exactly how her little finger had grasped at the dainty white spues spread on the lush green meadow. The warm breeze was carrying with it the smell of early summer. It was—

    He jerked back to reality. Something broke. A quiet stroke brushed the fake wood. Panic welled up in his throat, his eyes jolting back into the box to see what had been lost. His heart sank. A single blade of grass was resting there, cracked and torn. He stared at it, refusing to believe that his last reminder of sunny days came apart just like that.

    As if not to wake it from its slumber, he silently put back the wreath and cover, before sliding the box back onto the shelf. He would never touch it again, not even dare to look at it. It had to stay there, even if it crumpled to dust – he just needed to know that there was a place for this memory.

    1. Lee Strangely Avatar
      Lee Strangely

      This a well written but very sad story. It’s heart-wrenching when objects meant to symbolize memories themselves fade like old memories. You did a good job depicting how fragile it all is. I found myself holding my own breath while he carefully moved the wreath. Great job!

      1. Thank you so much! I’m glad that it hit the feels! 🙂

    2. LanaMae Avatar
      LanaMae

      I love this story, so melancholy, and poignant. A memory wrapped up in a box but also within the box inside of him.
      I would like to read more sometime about if his daughter returns or if he visits her and she realizes what she has lost by not being there anymore.

      1. Thank you very much, I’m flattered that it sparked interest on your side! Maybe, if I manage to get into writing more regularly, I’ll flesh out their story and relationship a bit further. 🙂

    3. writingspirit Avatar
      writingspirit

      I like your opening. It held immediate interest at least for me. I also like how the wreath symbolized the remnants of a time long past, since it’s brittle and physically falling apart from the passage of time. The word “crumpled” towards the end did feel like it kinda stood out as a word choice, but mostly because I feel like you really meant to use “crumbled” instead. But overall, I think you did a good job at capturing a quietly sad moment.

      1. Oh gosh, thank you for giving me a better option! I didn’t really think about that one, so your help is greatly appreciated. Thanks for the feedback! 🙂

    4. 💔 Ow! My important organ.

      The sentimental value of a little botanical trinket decaying over time really hits hard.

      Taking care of the keepsake of a deceased loved one feels like a lot of responsibility. Although you’re not obligated to keep it, you’re horrified of losing what’s left of them. It’s like breaking the most important promise you never made.

      *Coughs* Now take this like. And remember *coughs* that *Coughs* friendship *COUGHS* can buy you lunch. *Oof* 💀

      1. Oh Joe, please take care of your organ, I have only one stitching kit left. 🙁
        Thank you for making me laugh, I’m glad that it hit you just the right way! The daughter is not yet deceased but the pain might very much be the same.

  10. May the Better Shut-in Touch Grass

    By Joe

    “Well boys!” said Rudy. “I have done it. I have achieved peak shut-in.”

    “Bull,” said Goddard. “We’ve been in quarantine for only three days.”

    “I doubt you could’ve gone any further than my new invention, the hogway sub,” said Jeremiah. “A sub sandwich that’s just a log of ham.”

    Goddard shuddered. “I don’t know who suffered more from quarantine, Jeremiah for inventing something stupid, or me being entertained by watching him eat it.”

    “It’s you. And I’m afraid I got all of you beat,” said Rudy.

    “How?” asked both his friends.

    “I’m a conspiracy theorist now.”

    Rudy’s friends were too shocked for words. But before Rudy could explain himself, Goddard rushed him and carried Rudy out the door, Jeremiah trailing nervously behind. They stopped on the lawn where Goddard shoved Rudy’s face in the grass.

    “Guys,” said Jeremiah. “We’re breaking quarantine!”

    “I’ll TAKE THE L!” Goddard growled. “Go ahead, Rudy! Say what you REEEALLY feel!”

    Rudy yelled out in pain. “Aaaugh! The world isn’t flat or round! It’s actually a donut!”

    “Don’t ya think we’d see that? It would be like living on a HALO RING! What’s next?”

    “Former President Brush did 7/11!!”

    “WHY, RUDY?”

    “IT’S UNKNOWN!! Why did you pick the yellow patch in the grass? It’s so scratchy and uncomfortable! I think a dog peed here!”

    “I KNOW RIGHT!! TELL US ANOTHER!!”

    Jeremiah cried behind them. “Why is this happening?!”

    “Because Rudy committed stupid!” said Goddard. “We can’t have more stupidity in this world. SO I SHALL BAPTIZE HIM WITH GRASS!!! Now say another one, Rudy!”

    “White supremacy is still deeply rooted in our system!” Rudy cried.

    “That was already proven! WHY WOULD THAT BE A THEORYYYY?!?!” screamed Goddard, as he rapidly rubbed Rudy’s face back and forth in the grass.

    “Uuuuh…?”

    The trio looked up to see a random passerby.

    “What’re you guys doing?” they asked.

    “Forget about us. Why aren’t you in quarantine?” Jeremiah stepped back.

    “Quarantine? That ended a week ago.”

    “What?” The friend trio responded.

    “Yeah. We’re good now.”

    Rudy raised his head slowly. “Did I win?”

    Goddard slammed his face back down.

    1. Hahahaha
      This story makes me smile on so many levels.
      “Because Rudy committed stupid” will live rent-free in my brain from now on ^^
      Keep up the good work

    2. Cromillea Avatar
      Cromillea

      I got to love the interactions these characters have. It’s so funny! All the details about living through quarantine are very relatable, people got so bored. Personally, I’m a bit of a shut in, so I had my fun. I understood your conspiracy theory references and found them to be committing a stupid.

      These characters sound very believable, like these are things my friends would say. I also appreciate the videogame reference, as who can forget how much videogames meant during quarantine. Well done!

    3. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      “Take some time and touch the grass… preferably with all your face. Now do it again, and again, until the pleasant and rough sensation washes the stupid away.”

      I just love the moment when Goddard realizes “yup, that’s not a commiseration contest anymore, drastic measures are needed here”, breaks the game and tries to act. Boy, have I been there!

      Also, the choice of conspiracies and how a credible fact is throw in as well just re-forces how un-grounded not just from reality, but from discourse itself, Rudy and other conspiracies theorists are. Which is a great take to make.

      The dialogue is quite funny, the situation is that kind of “yup, that’s surreal, but it is also what we have been living in for quite the time”, and it is very well written. The pace is great, amazing.

      I will press that thumbs up with the strength I’d also like to slam Rudy’s face on the grass as well.

    4. “It’s only been three days.”

      “Quarentien ended a week ago.”

      We’re not dealing with the average Shut-In anymore… These are SUPER SHUT-INs! … No, they’ve ascended further beyond!

      Personally I love the “I baptise you in grass” part. And Also how “donut earth” is actually a theory some people have, despite how absurd it is, even beyond Flat Eart.

      1. “This isn’t your average everyday shut-in. This is… ADVANCED SHUT-IN.”

        I honestly would’ve loved to have lived on a donut earth. The view would be amazing! But reality is disappointing.

        Thanks for reading.

  11. VulpesRose Avatar
    VulpesRose

    The Smiling Man and an Unusual Choice
    by VulpesRose

    “You are accused of stealing from the King’s treasury!” The voice boomed in the quiet forest clearing.

    “I invoke my right to trial by combat,” the young man declared, sounding bored with the whole affair.

    “Very well.” The captain pointed to one of his finest soldiers, and the man strode forward, armor gleaming in the sunlight. “I have chosen a champion for the crown. You are entitled to choose the weapon.”

    The young man grinned, and there was something almost sinister in the curl of his lip. He plucked two long, thick blades of grass from the edge of the clearing, walked confidently to the champion, and extended one to him. “Your weapon, my liege.”

    The soldiers laughed. The captain did not. “What is the meaning of this?”

    “I have chosen the weapons,” the young man said calmly. “Do you doubt that your champion can perform? I have only a single blade of grass.” He cocked his head to the side. “But that will be enough.”

    The champion was getting impatient. The soldiers were getting restless. The captain was getting a headache.

    “Fine.” The captain moved his men to the edge of the clearing. “Combatants ready!”

    The young man pressed the sides of his thumbs together, with the grass between them.

    “Begin!”

    He raised his thumbs to his mouth and blew. A screeching whistle rang out in the clearing.

    The champion stopped. The soldiers stared. The young man listened.

    There was a sound from the forest. Something between a growl and a howl and a snarl. It sounded angry. It sounded close.

    The young man smiled again.

    For the first time, the champion seemed concerned. “It can’t be,” he stammered. “You’re a myth. That thing,” he pointed toward the forest, “is a myth.”

    “I’m afraid we’re both quite real,” the young man said, not actually afraid at all. “He’s closer than I thought,” he added, offhandedly. “You’ve not much time.”

    They could hear it approaching. Then there was silence. Then there was screaming. And then there was silence again, soon broken by laughter from the young man.

    “Good boy.”

    1. “He is a legend. He is as big as my love for him, and I named him Clifford.”

      This is a great way to open a story, introduce a character, open a legend and confirm it at the same time. The build up was nice, and the mystery of the creature that was summoned, which I assume is a giant wolf, was a decent touch.

      It’s hard not to imagine blood being splattered over the innocent smile of a regular man that just called his pet over. Fun for them is horror for all.

      Take my like. *Slaps like button*

    2. LanaMae Avatar
      LanaMae

      Awesome, but now I am extremely curious about who he is and what that was he summoned to the fight with a blade of grass.
      I need to know more , I do like the style you write in . If we had more words I would love to see more.

    3. writingspirit Avatar
      writingspirit

      Very creative use of the prompt. I was curious as to how you would include a single blade of glass in such a story and it did not disappoint. If you wanted to, I feel like you could do a longer classic fairy tale story based on the young man.

  12. War
    By Pumpkin

    The door almost fell off the hinges as someone slammed their fist against it.
    My shoulders jumped “Yes ma’am?” I asked looking at the gigantic figure “How can I help you?”

    She was a spider and according to the medals clung onto her furry chest, a very important one.
    “I need a blade.”

    “You’ve come to the right place.” I lead her to my wares displayed on toadstool shelves.

    She picked up a sword that shifted hue in the light “Flower petal?” She asked.

    “Butterfly wing actually. Brought back from the battlefield.”

    “I see.” The spider seemed pleased by that “Do you take commissions?”

    “Of course, provided you have the materials for me.”

    “I’ll be right back.”

    She left the room for a second or two. Then returned with a long blade of grass wedged between her teeth.
    She dropped in unceremoniously in front of my feet.

    “I want you to fold this blade of grass until it is as tough as nails.
    Then cut from it two swords, exactly the same in every way. I don’t care how it looks, I don’t need flourishes or decorations. All I ask is that you only use this grass and nothing else.”

    I looked out the door, trying to judge the length of the thing.
    “I think I can manage that.”

    The spider left the shop with two grass swords in her hands.
    The shopkeep was nice!
    She didn’t expect that from the enemy lines.

    She tore the medals from her chest, then tossed them to the general she killed that very morning.

    Donning her true colours she rushed into battle slicing and dismantling all in her way until there was no one left for her to kill.

    She walked over the threshold into her own camp.
    Got an earful from the commandant.

    “Something, something, don’t disobey my orders etc.”
    She shrugged, walked straight out the back.

    To where the earth gets tilled every single day.
    She pushed a single blade into the soil.
    “I’m back my love,” she told the grave with tears inside her eyes.
    “Did you miss me?”

    1. This took ‘touch some grass’ to a malicious level, and a multiple of ‘a single blade of grass’ by two.

      I was a little confused when the spider came back with a single blade of grass between her teeth and not her hands, which she used to dual wield twin blades out the door.

      The twist was nice. I didn’t expect her to be in the military and impersonate an officer at the same time. But given the events that transpired with her love I have no doubt she has a bucket out waiting for a fuck to fall out of the sky, because she is out.

      Now take my wife. I mean my knife. I mean my life. I mean my like. There we go.

      1. I tend to just go off the prompt and nothing else ^^; just to see how far I can push it ^^

        The teeth thing was an oversight on my part though XD thanks for spotting that ^^

    2. Cromillea Avatar
      Cromillea

      You conveyed the sense of scale so well that I got it in the two paragraphs. This is a bug sized world, and some bugs are larger and scarier than others. Its a cool bit of worldbuilding to have the shopkeeper show off the kinds of weapons that the bugs would use. They are all very biological in construction. It makes me think that the bugs fight with their own bodies in combination with the other features they pick up from their victims. A wing for a blade, but also a discarded shell could be a shield.

      I did not expect that twist, that the spider was avenging the death of a loved one. I could imagine that it would be fun to write a bug-themed battle in this universe. Also, did the shopkeeper unknowingly arm his enemy?

      Thanks for the story!

      1. Thank you for the kind words! I’m glad to hear the scale was so clear ^^

        A shell for a shield would be cool as well! Or if your opponent is a beetle you could take his literal shield to protect you
        And now I’m thinking about horned beetles playing tanks XD it’s a really fun concept to play around with and I’d go reaaaal long if i didnt have a 350 word limit ^^;

        Also yes, the shopkeep armed the enemy, I actually considered killing him too which would make strategical sense but I felt that’d be a bit of a downer so it’s left ambiguous instead

    3. That was a rollercoaster.

      It was very choppy though, and felt disconnected from it’s parts.

      What I’m most intrigued by was the need for two blades of grass. It didn’t seem important at first, since she didn’t lead with “do you take commissions”. Like, she specifically wanted that one blade of grass turned into two swords.

      It’s also kinda funny that she stopped mid battle to go shopping for a new sword. Made me think of Fire Emblem. (Though I think that’s more gameplay then story.)

  13. A single blade of hope
    By Vera

    Armadra looked up at the sun. It was nothing more but a blob of weak light. He turned back at the fields, illustrated with powerful lamps. They supplied the light and warmth the sun had been refusing this past year. Ever since one of the more paranoid and less intelligent nations decided that threatening aliens with thekr atomic arsenal was a good idea.

    Aliens, who had a journey of light decades behind them, the tech to journey insanely long distances in impossibly short time. Threatened with atomic weapons. Their reaction could have been predicted. You threaten me with your weapons, I shoot those weapons. Boom.

    Armadras phone binged, signalling a message. It was one of the lamps, it sensed am error. Checking the position, she ran through rows of produce. A week, maybe two amd they can start the harvest, adding much needed variety to their diet. However, the lamps need to glow every day for the appointed 12 hours.

    Armadra froze, as she noticed something. There, in the shade just outside the lamp’s range. It wasn’t much, just a single blade of grass. It was small and weak, looked lonely on the barren, grey ground. But it was still grass, growing outside the area where plant growth should be possible. Armadra made a picture with her phone, just to make sure it wasn’t a hallucination. Then the lamp stopped working, plunging the area in twilight.

    It didn’t matter. Unlike the previous times when Armadra had to fix a lamp, it didn’t feel like a loosing battle. Yes, there will be another broken lamp. Yes, the clouds are expected to last for another few decades, keeping the land in eternal twilight. Yes, humanity may rely a bit longer on their uninvited guests.

    But now, there was a single blade of grass growing outside the lamp’s light. And if a single blade of grass could grow outside the area controlled by humans, there was hope for another. And another. Maybe other plants could grow with minimal sunlight the clouds let through.

    Maybe humanity did have a chance to thrive once more.

    1. Cromillea Avatar
      Cromillea

      I’m impressed with what you could do without any dialogue. The thoughts and feelings of the aliens and humans are more than capable of carrying the weight of conversation. I love this inward perspective on how the characters are dealing with life after disaster.

      So I guess the aliens blew up the human’s nukes? That’s my interpretation. I’m wondering what happened to the sun, why do they need lamps? Is it because nuclear fallout is clouding the sky? This is a very interesting story indeed.

      One critique: “…plunging the area [into] twilight.” I think might be more fitting here.

      Thank you for sharing this cool story!

    2. I really enjoy the pacing: in a moment of rest, with Armadra looking up thoughtfully, we get a glimpse of the world she lives in – but it’s not stretched into a heap of exposition. It fits well into the narrative and even the backstory feels like it’s told from her perspective. I’d be interested in the way the aliens and the humans coexist on one planet, it definitely sparks curiosity!
      I think you could correct some typos, in the beginning the protagonist is referred to as ‘he’, for example. There are some phrases that seem un-English to me, e.g. she would ‘take’ a picture instead of ‘making’ it.
      You already did a great job depicting her picture of the world, maybe you could add a few more adjectives or adverbials to further illustrate how she works and how she behaves. But then again this very much depends on your style – it already is a nice and snappy piece.
      But aside from very few hiccups, it reads very clearly to me. It’s nicely closed and has a bit of a bite, I like that. Good work!

    3. This is a nice view into the way humanity would survive after huge dust clouds cover the earth, no doubt from either the nukes or the alien weapons. The lamps feeding the plants certain nutrients to grow were a nice touch, as well as the eventuality of vegetation regrowing under new circumstances.

      Here. Have a like.

  14. Using the Grass Blade
    by VTRwriter

    The planet Utnahal, unlike Ituante, still held many secrets. There were precisely two types of plants there: grass and tree-buildings, that could be as small as a bird house, or as big as an entire city. These trees grew mostly sideways and hollow, with maze-like interiors full of cuboid rooms and hallways. A perfect world to hide things.

    Things like the Grass Blade, legendary weapon of ages past, now in reach of an almost knocked out Ford Jones. An ideal opportunity, since he and Bonnie Croft were taking a nasty beating from Vahan, the Titanium Golem, who was also after the sword. If Ford could only stand up…

    Meanwhile, Bonnie, despite many dodges, acrobatics and fire rays, was unable to harm the eight feet tall living armor, who was far too fast for it’s size. After a rain of punches, the golem landed a strike on Bonnie’s stomach, paralyzing her with pain.

    “It’s over!” Vahan said, his voice echoing like a hammer hitting steel. “The Grass Blade will go to my master, and none of you will stop me!”

    “Don’t count on it!” Jones yelled, taking the golem by surprise and hitting him with the Grass Blade. And again. And again, and again, and again.

    But all it did was harmlessly bend against the titanium surface. Like, well, a blade of grass would.

    “Huh.” Jones said. “I thought that this would be more climactic, like you being sliced and all that.”

    “Honestly, me too.” Vahan said. “What’s wrong with that thing?”

    Ford Jones looked at the Grass Blade, that supposedly once sliced a dragon’s head off, looking for any answer. All he found was four words, written with pink pen on the hilt.

    Ha ha, too late!

    “Oh crap.” Jones said. “We’ve been had.”

    “Well, what now?” Vahan asked.

    “I don’t know about you,” Croft said calmly, “but I’ll trigger the smoke bombs so Jones and I can escape.”

    “Well, I suppose… wait, what?”

    The smoke bombs released a thick black fog, completely blinding the golem.

    “Argh! Damn adventurers!”

    Sneaking trough the fog, Ford and Bonnie managed to escape quietly.

    1. Ahahahaha I love the cometic tone this tale sets.
      Starting off dead serious and then just.
      Oops nevermind, the funnies are here.

      I did need to read the introduction again to get a clearer picture but taking into account all the world building and character introducing you had to do you did a really good job with this little space.

      Keep up the good work ^^

  15. The Missing Link Avatar
    The Missing Link

    One Small Step
    By The Missing Link

    “Is it live?” an excited female voice spoke across the computer, “What’s the delay… oh, I see comments. That means we’re live right?”

    A muffled voice responded, but he was difficult to hear.

    She snapped her head towards the camera, “Oh, sorry everybody, welcome. We’re sorry for any lag, but let’s begin.”

    She turned around, searching for something, “Ah, there it is.” She apologized again to the man behind the camera and took up a stiff voice as she read from the script, “One small step for man, these were the words spoken when we started walking… I mean when man first walked on the moon.”

    She paused, trying to regain her composure. The comments flowed down the side of her screen. She had been warned about the kinds of things they would say, but one caught her eye, “You can do it.” She was surprised. Out of all the comments surely screaming at her to get on with it or get someone else in front of the camera, this one stood out.

    She put down the script and smiled, confidence and adrenaline surging into her voice, she’d made it here after all, “I’m live from Mars with groundbreaking news,” passion joined the confidence, “After many years of hard work, we’ve done something miraculous this sol.”

    She picked up the camera and turned it quickly on the source of her passion. The microphone crackled with the action. And there it was, a simple blade of grass in a glass case, maybe three inches long.

    “In my time at university, I never could have imagined this day,” her voice caught as if holding back tears, “We finally did it. Small step after small step, we made it here. We were afraid it was impossible, but ladies and gentlemen, it is my sincerest pleasure to inform you that we have created life on Mars.”

    1. Aww this story is so wholesome ^^
      “You can do it” indeed
      Very nice, keep up the good work

    2. Cheezesammich Avatar
      Cheezesammich

      I really appreciate how focused and direct you’ve made this story. It means you have that much more room to play with establishing your character’s voice. You’ve also done a pretty great job at weaving description into the dialogue and narrative of the story.

      You’ve done a great job here, but I think you might be able to squeeze just a bit more out of the story by sprinkling in some small descriptions or words that foreshadow/hint at the time period or setting early in the piece. That way, when it is revealed that she is on Mars, the reader has something the can go back and compare that knowledge to, and it could help strengthen the unity of the piece. Fantastic job regardless.

  16. Calliope Rannis Avatar
    Calliope Rannis

    A Glimpse Of Perfection (Alice’s Story)
    By Calliope Rannis

    Some things in this world are so delightfully simple.

    Take a blade of grass, for example. It absorbs light from the sky, and food from the earth, and uses those substances to grow and spread. What bliss it must have, to be able to serve its purpose so easily.

    Another great example is the watch. After all, all it does is tell the time. A simpler purpose could barely be imagined. (Well, to me anyway. Most of the local townspeople seem barely able to read the numbers upon the face, let alone comprehend its actual function…)

    But in truth, the real beauty of these simple creations is the complexity of design within them. I have taken blades of grass, used my tools to unravel their innards, and their networks of veins and roots are quite something to behold. (If only my lenses could look even closer!)

    As for the watch? Well, I build those myself. They start as a mess of freshly-forged parts, and it is my duty to put every single one in its perfect and proper place. A single cog askew, and it’s a useless piece of metalwork. But with all parts working in unity together, that precious higher purpose emerges.

    …And yet, the world never seems to appreciate it. The grass is not allowed to fulfil its purpose in peace – no, it is stamped upon by people, gnawed and infested by insects, razed and befouled by livestock, its tapestry of green constantly torn with holes and stains.

    And the clocks I install for taverns and other public spaces? Rarely understood, often not even looked at. The only time people seem to pay attention to them is when they chime for the new hour, and sometimes all they say is “pretty music.” Music! I’m creating timepieces here, not music boxes!

    I just want to help. To change the world for the better in my own little ways, with just a few simple tools to help us all improve.

    But how can I help anything, when the people I try to help don’t understand my work at all?

    1. This is so fantastic! Weirdly, it feels a lot longer than 300 words – but in the most positive sense. I feel like I got a really good grip on what Alice finds fascinating in the world and how she views her surroundings. Also, it marvel at the creativity of comparing a blade of grass to a clock – most people would agree that grass is something simple but most wouldn’t say that about a clock. It takes a special kind of person to draw such a comparison, which gives this piece so much character!
      I stumbled at this phrase: “As for the watch? Well, I build those myself.” The question refers to ‘the’ watch, the following sentence speaks about watches in general. It’s of course some itsy-bitsy thing to criticise, I just thought it may flow better if both were constructed coherently.
      Definitely a great monologue, maybe also illustrating a bit of a flaw in her character, as she seems to have a very narrow frame of how people should react to her help and also doesn’t try to educate them. I find this piece very interesting, awesome work!

    2. Interesting story.

      Alice is the “clockwork” girl, yes? Or am I just thinking that because of the subject?

      Interesting that you only briefly touched on grass. (Ha) But at least at the end, i’d say being eaten is also fulfilling it’s purpose.

      “Most of the townspeople seemed barely able to read the numbers”
      Harsh!

      “They start as a mess of freshly-forged parts,”
      It does remind me though that old clocks weren’t nearly as fine and compact as watches. Which made me wonder just when and how the first parts for a pocket watch were made.

      “But how can I help anything, when the people I try to help don’t understand my work at all?”
      I think this gets to the point of it all though. And the point is that she projecting. I think.

    3. Nice comparison between the grass, the watches, and Alice, and contrast between her and the townsfolk.

      The grass and the watch are similar because of the simplicity of their purpose; and Alice is like the grass and her watches because none of them are understood or appreciated by the townsfolk. Alice is the only one that bothers to care about the complications that make simple creations.

      Have a like. You earned it.

      1. Calliope Rannis Avatar
        Calliope Rannis

        Thank you for the review! I didn’t even think about how she was unintentionally projecting about herself onto the grass and watches there. Glad you enjoyed it! ^w^

  17. nack287 Avatar
    nack287

    A Single Blade of Grass

    Every Tuesday, at around one-thirty in the afternoon a great tragedy befell the lawn. All its strides and growths it made throughout the week, reaching heavenward, ended with disaster. This has occurred every week, like clockwork. The great cutting has the lawn had been there longer than any living blade had known. It was talked about by the eldest blades as something that their elders had taught them when they were young. This cutting was tragic, yes, but each blade cut short bred new life into the lawn. Detritus, in the form of shed blades litter the ground, decomposing and becoming food for further growth.

    This was true of the entire lawn. The entire lawn, save for a single blade of rebellious and hard to reach grass. You see, the lawn was a large creature. An enormous square patch of a being, which stretched from a creek just past the hill, a hundred feet across towards the great void of black stone which formed the boundary between lawns, and another 100 feet across the other axis. Placed in the middle of the lawn was a small hut where the cutter lived, and next to it, a home for the animal that operated the cutter. Between the house, and the shed was an alley too narrow to be fully cut by the mower. In that valley stood a single blade of grass, tall and mighty. It alone laid uncut each week, as it had for its entire life, and its predecessors before it.

    But this week, something was different. The animal had put the mower away in the shed as always, but as the grass continued shrieking. Something was different. The tall blade heard a new noise. Unclear of its origin, it swayed idly in the breeze. Assured of its safety. Soon though, the tall blade realized that there was a new implement. A stick which emitted a loud, high pitched whining whir, unlike that of the mower. As it drew nearer the tall blade was still sure. In its final moments, it felt assured.

    1. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      This one was a great tale to read. I loved the perspective of the lawn as a whole and the blades of grass as entities within it, and the inevitability of that terrible catastrophe that is to happen all Tuesday (at about 1h30PM). This makes me thing that humans as an uncaring force of nature (such as the tide, hurricanes and so on) is an idea that can be conveyed in some pretty interesting way.

      The descriptions, the voice, the whole pace… all that works really well. The only thing I found a bit wanting was that some sentence constructions are a bit confusing, which I believe is something that could easily be solved with a second reading. As an example, the sentence “The great cutting has the lawn had been there longer than any living blade had known” seems like you had changed what you had to say and left part of the sentence with elements of an older construction. Likewise, in the last paragraph, there are some small problems with the placement of commas and the threading of sentences. Nothing that detracts too much from the tale, but it seems like small final touches that would make for a better reading experience… especially considering how interesting the tale is!

  18. Lee Strangely Avatar
    Lee Strangely

    Hastenburaphobia
    (originally from Private Group)
    by Lee Strangely

    Bright blue skies and a mild breeze made for a beautiful day, one in which Mallory found herself standing in the open doorway for the first time in years. It was momentous milestone, but Cydney thought it could be better.

    “Come on,” Cydney pleaded, “it’s gorgeous out! You got to feel this breeze!”

    “I… I can feel it from here,” Mallory stated from the doorway she clung onto.

    “Mal you have to move past this sometime,” she said as her bare feet paced through the luscious green, “it’s not going to do anything to you. See, I’m fine!”

    “They only pick on me,” Mallory whimpered.

    Cydney reached over to take one of Mallory’s hands. She then slowly walked away step by step, gently outstretching both of their hands.

    “No…”

    Cydney grinned before suddenly yanking her out. Mallory yelped as she made contact with the yard.

    As Mallory began to shake Cydney held both of her hands, “Come on. Don’t look at it, just look at me.”

    Cydney slowly walked backwards, gently pulling Mallory with. Mallory’s eyes jittered about, jumping from Cydney to everything around her. She couldn’t help but smile when their eyes locked. During the slow movement her mouth seemed to shiver, shakily hopping from that smile to a fake look of indifference.

    Cydney guided her until reaching a blanket on the ground, where the two sat down. Mallory curled up within the confines of the fabric, while Cydney sprawled herself out. In the heat and her embrace, Mallory managed to feel some degree of comfort.

    Remarkably they both managed to doze off. However, something was waking Mallory. It felt like a tickle on her hand. The shiver you feel when something barely grazes you. Looking over, she froze.

    Her hand lied in the grass, the thin leaves almost curling around her fingers. She immediately tried to pull her hand back, the blades cutting her as she did. Her teary eyes stared at the plants. They mockingly danced in the wind. In their swaying, something briefly glimmered.

    Mallory looked back at her hand. She had a ring…

    Had…

    1. Whoah! Trippy.

      This is the kind of story that psychologically messes with you. Because Mallory’s fear of grass seemed ridiculous when described as purposely trying to mess with her. But when the grass had her hand, her fear felt real from it wrapping around her and cutting her when she pulled away. But when her ring was in the grass instead of on her finger, it felt like she was telling the truth the whole time, like the grass was really trying to mess with her.

      That actually got me. Well done!

  19. ​​birth by a blade of grass.

    “So Professor Tomas what are we doing out of here?” asked the gorgon, Luis Navarro, while he adjusted his mask on his face to not let it fall to the ground when the Professor stopped.

    They were in a sea of green grass that hadn’t been cut by a lawn mower. ” Luis, you know what I am right?” the professor asked while taking from the emerald sea on his feed a single blade of grass in one of his hands, which coincidentally had a blue tattoo that had the same form as the grass on the ground.

    “A Homunculus but I don’t know how it has something to do with aetheric chemistry, and aetheric channeling?” Luis said and he would have kept going if it wasn’t for Tomas interrupting him.

    “It has everything to do with it Young man,” He said fondly “my creators wanted to know the limits of homunculus creation, and ….well they succeeded while using an insignificant thing at its core.”

    He said the last sentence while still playing with the blade of grass in his hand reminiscing about the past remembering his lucky childhood, even if he was the result of an experiment.

    “My fathers would be always, there in my heart,” said Thomas while he stopped playing with the piece of grass and started channeling aether into the grass. At that moment a magic circle appeared around the blade of grass changing the insignificant item into something bigger and better.

    It bloomed into a flower before Luis’s eyes although it could be considered an unnatural spectacle, one couldn’t deny there was beauty in it.

    “Thanks to the knowledge of chemistry one can channel aether to change the composition of an object, I was given birth in the same way” the professor finished.

    “I didn’t know you could do something so beautiful from a little thing like that” Luis said amazed.

    “That’s the beauty of the little things in life,” Tomas said.”at birth, they may look small but down the road, they become beautiful.”

    1. Tamela Redfin Avatar
      Tamela Redfin

      Great story, Galer! 😀 I like the relationship of the characters. Also, I’ like to note you’re missing a quotation mark.

  20. Aracnarquista Avatar
    Aracnarquista

    Found in memories (Reposted from private group)
    by Aracnarquista

    Oberon and Titania floated among the shapes and strings of code. It was nice to travel in the vast expanses of the old databases of the Ark; surely it contrasted with the limits the Ark they traveled in their fleshbodies presented them. Here, they could mute the hum of the machinery, they could observe the strange dance of active code jumping and reconfiguring cyber-reality in its way… but their real treasure was exploring the old databases.

    It wasn’t even the content of the data packages they guarded. The architecture of those ancient nodes was an interesting experience in itself. Frozen signals, electric memories whose translation protocols were lost to the ages, information stored in arcane and obsolete ways from the times of Lost Earth… all those data in stasis formed a museum of forms and sensations that were even grander than the starry void the Ark sailed adrift.

    “Obi, link to that and see what I found.”

    This was not just code in stasis. It was an entire hypernode with full sensory stimuli. An active one. The timestamps couldn’t be right, though.

    “Ania, this is from… before the Launch. Before even the Building Effort.”

    “Let’s connect and see what it is.”

    And just so they were in a vast empty expanse where just a small green filament floated. They could perceive it as a simulated sensory memory of a plant of some sort, probably a forgotten relic of Old Earth.

    Textual information was broadcast to them, entitling the experience as “the feeling of fresh grass”. With it, came a possibility.

    Oberon and Titania exchanged a glance before the girl activated the subroutine, and suddenly the void had gravity and a ground from which an infinitude of copies of the green filament sprouted. It smelled fresh, and the simulated wind ruffled the unknown plant and whistled as it passed them.

    Their feet touched the grass… and even though her senses were completely in tune with her cyberbody, Titania felt a tear forming in her flesh eye.

    Adrift among stars they might be, but a precious cargo of memories sails with them.

    1. Jacob Sac à Viande Avatar
      Jacob Sac à Viande

      First things first :
      1) Loved the text, even though i sometimes had a hard time following what is going on (My mind is more at ease with the vocabulary of mythology/fantasy than Science fiction, I had a much harder time reading through the first ten pages of Dune than the entire lord of the rings.), you can feel the floating atmosphere that surrounds the characters.
      2) Take some time, and touch grass. (Had to sorry)
      3)this whole text made me feel as though we were seeing what happens to the characters of “soma” and it’s epilogue. (won’t say more so it dosn’t spoil the game)

      My only real nitpick is with the sentence “surely it contrasted with the limits the Ark they traveled in their fleshbodies presented them”
      I don’t know if surely is the best adjective here and i had to re-read the sentence 3 times to understand it’s meaning. Perhaps it could be made more fluid ?

      In what i believe to be a logical manner, I started wondering about how what was the ark, how it was created and in general how does a typical day for a sentient being in the ark look like.
      Do they feel fatigue ? Are they constently conscious ? etc etc

      If you have more questions, Contact me on the discord server.

      1. Aracnarquista Avatar
        Aracnarquista

        I’ll paste the answer I gave on the Discord channel here in lieu of publicizing part of the discussion in a more organized way, as is my habit when dealing with the comments on the public thread:

        Thanks a lot for the time of reading it! I think you make some fair points, although some of the elements brought in the discussion are more a matter of personal preference than anything. I’ve written more prompts dealing with fantastical elements than I tried dipping my toes in Sci-Fi, so although my interests lean more towards sci-fi, it is not exactly my writing comfort zone as well. For this particular piece, I had a whole backstory on how things work and what is going on, but most elements weren’t even written or were cut out during the trimming down process to reach the word limit.

        And I agree with you that that particular line rings strange. That’s a problem I happen to stumble constantly due to a quirk in how I usually try to write and how English in particular work – not the best language to work compounding inner clauses in a sentence. In my mind, that line, clunky as it is, was an indication that the two characters spend their time exploring both the “physical” and the “digital” version of the Ark, and that they see their digital explorations as more free and engaging.
        So that’s a nod to the fact that they don’t live solely in virtual reality or are in suspended animation… But it reads really strange in English, and

        I wasn’t really aware of how clunky it was when I first read it.
        I do agree with you that it could be more fluid, though.

        Anyway, if the overall idea was conveyed, then I’m mostly glad with it, hehehe. But I’ll try to be more attentive to these quirks on future writing exercises.

    2. Cheezesammich Avatar
      Cheezesammich

      Oh, the irony of characters named Oberon and Titania having never felt grass before. You’ve got a really interesting story here. From the technical descriptions to the mystery surrounding their circumstances, there’s a lot you’ve done really well.

      The only real comment I have is the line, “surely it contrasted with the limits the Ark they traveled in their fleshbodies presented them,” is a little difficult to parse. It might be worth it to reword it so it flowed as nicely as the sentences around it (at first glance, something like “it surely contrasted with the limits presented to them by the Ark in which their fleshbodies traveled,” could work, but there’s probably a rewording out there that works even better for you).

      Other than that, a great take on the prompt, and a wonderful piece of Sci-Fi!

      1. Aracnarquista Avatar
        Aracnarquista

        Thanks a lot for the comment. And I do agree with you that that line rings very awkward, and your proposal of it is a lot better – I’d edit it if it was able, though I would still need to cut two additional words or rewrite it in a way. But yeah, that line awkwardness flew me by during the editing, but it surely detracts from the flow.

        I had the overall context for the story (and a lot of backstory as well) almost from the get go, but the names just jumped from my fingers when I started writing… and I’m also very happy with that choice, hehehe.

    3. Reading sci-fi terminology hurts my brain, so I have to reread it multiple time to understand it, but I can’t get enough of it when genuine explorers find something meaningful. Or in this case the last of humanity launched into space before Earth, I assume, is no longer habitable.

      The names and situation are very akin, poetically, to A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The conflict between Oberon and Titania in the book is synonomous to the possible human conflict that may have brought Earth’s destruction. And the two characters reuniting in the book is like your characters finding peace in their situation with a comforting simulation of home. And there they’ll remain for the rest of their lives.

      I have the same critique of that one sentence, but everyone else already got to it, so I’ll leave that alone.

      But great work! And with the power of Goddard I slam that like button.

      1. Aracnarquista Avatar
        Aracnarquista

        And as the like button is slammed,the fresh scent of grass rises to dance in the air (little know scientific fact, the scent of grass is know to have the power to banish and exorcise the stupid out of people, though we are yet not sure on the dosages to it; great thing we have explorers like Goddard doing those small experiments to find the better way of administering the medicine and zero-in the correct dosage).

        About that one line, in my own personal final edit of the tale I modified the whole sentence to : “Traveling the vast expanses of the old databases of the Ark was a thrilling adventure; it surely contrasted with the limits presented to them by the Ark where their fleshbodies traveled.” It is still a bit clunky to my taste, but I guess it is as satisfying as I can get to it without the benefit of some weeks distance of the first writing.

        One thing I find specially curious is how the tone in my mind was more tragic than most of the feedback I received seems to take it as – which is something I’m always pleasantly surprised by. But, yeah, the whole thing about the Ark being their first, last and only home is something I really wanted to be there. Thanks a lot for the reading and the feedback, and may the presence and the sense of wonder of Oberon and Titania (be they the monarchs of Arcadia, be they children adrift in a sea of stars and code) be with you.

  21. Cromillea Avatar
    Cromillea

    My Emerald (Dawn Collection) (Private Repost)
    By Cromillea

    Lucian should not have regretted trading himself for his people’s freedom, but locked away in a dark cell, sick and shivering was not helping anyone. The moonkin’s psychic had already invaded his mind once, so he would not let himself sleep again for fear of leaking secrets. Despite his growing weakness, he had to stay awake to face the consequences.

    Being caught in the darkness was a profound experience that the Sunrise King never had before; it scared him. The shadows that were so easy to cut through felt suffocating now. It was near impossible to see, but he looked desperately for any relief aside from himself and the void.

    His eyes raced to the center of the cell, falling upon a single blade of grass; he fixated on it with wonder. How could anything be growing somewhere so cold and dark?

    Filled with admiration Lucian whispered, “my emerald, you are beautiful. My hope, you stand tall, a guiding flag in this darkness.”

    The sparkling blade bent towards him. The king was flattered.

    “You mean to thank me! You’re the only other living thing in here, it only makes sense that we should get acquainted.”

    The grass wiggled with joy as two more blades cut through the stone.

    “Oh my,” Lucian said, gazing between the grass and his glowing hands. “I can see my light again! It’s so dim, but you seem to like it.”

    Lucian leaned out of his bed offering his light to grass. It graciously accepted his blessing. Then the emerald blade sprung out through the stone wall, creating a web of cracks. Lucian saw daylight and fainted.

    He later awoke safe in the kingdom, where an attendant was soaking his hands in warm water and combing the stone dust from his blond hair. He saw members of his Crimson Elite idling by the door. His captain was curiously twilling the grass between his fingers.

    “What happened?” Lucian coughed, startling everyone.

    His captain addressed the king with a smile and said, “I suppose his majesty has his father’s knack for gardening!”

  22. A Field of Razors (Exile Universe)
    By Alex Nightingale (aka Spectre)

    Naerahine stood at the edge of the meadow, watching the blue grass sway in the soft breeze. As a test, she reached out a hand and brushed it. She could feel the sharpness beneath her skin. She winced and pulled back, as blood trickled down her finger.

    Not an easy place to cross, especially barefoot. She felt the comfort of the earth beneath her. The rush of power it gave her. The secret to why she’d been so powerful in the arena.

    Beyond the grass lay a tree. A tree, with several figures hanging from it like fruit, in thick, steel cages. Even at this distance, she could make out their emaciated forms, starving and sick.

    She took one more step.

    The grass immediately stood still, shooting upwards, forming sharp razor blades. Her toes almost touched them now.

    Her gaze was fixed on one cage in particular, holding a smaller frame. Barely a child. Her fangs mauled against each other.

    As long as she touched the ground, she would heal, as long as she didn’t die to quickly. But it would still hurt. She ran.

    The blades cut her feet. It sliced at her legs. More than once she stumbled, her hands impaled by the blades of grass. Blood pooled around her, as she felt herself be cut to pieces over and over again.

    And every time she got back up. It was only a few paces. But those paces were agony. More than once she screamed, wanting to turn back, wanting to make it stop.

    She kept going, until she reached the cage she was looking for. She leapt up and grabbed the steel bars, holding herself upright.

    The child in it was slumped over, his eyes closed.

    Hurriedly, she took out a stolen key and unlocked the cage, grabbing her nephew, holding him in her arms.

    She looked back across the field. The grass blades were still razor sharp, waiting for her. She would walk this meadow again and carry her nephew to safety.

    Step by step, she healed, only to be cut open again, by vicious blades.

    1. MasaCur Avatar
      MasaCur

      Oh, this sounds like an almost Promethean Hell, the idea of constantly getting cut up, only to heal once more. Although, I suppose, without the ability to instantly heal, Naerahine wouldn’t have stood a chance here. The descriptions of the agony that she faces crossing the field is very immersive, and made me wince at one point.
      For reasons, the idea of a tree with cages hanging from it made me think of gibbets, used for the execution of and/or display of pirates. I imagine the cages that these people were in aren’t much different. But it does lend some imagery to the story.

      Anyway, excruciating, but well written story, Spectre.

  23. Sunrise
    By Katie Ampersand

    And then at sunrise, there was a single blade of grass.

    This sunrise wasn’t special, nor was the blade of grass. This sunrise was like many others, as the world that it was viewed from spinned around its own axis once again, uncaring for anything that could happen in it. The blade of grass sat alone for a few moments, but was eventually joined by others.

    It wasn’t only blades of grass, though. It was joined by other creatures, like insects, fungi, wolves, trees, and eventually, a particular species began to stand on two of its limbs and look up at its skies. Neither the grass, nor the fungi, nor these creatures themselves knew that they would be calling it theirs.

    By noon, not much had happened. These cratures had set up a place to live, but that was about it. They did silly things like this all the time. Setting up structures, giving them names, dancing around them like spirals of ants, careless of their ongoing decay. Some of the other creatures did not complain, though, the food they had was good, and they eventually adapted to this new, softer kind of life.

    It was by afternoon that things got weird. They started building up higher and changing the land to their own whims. They decided to have control over the world around them, over other creatures, even over others of their own kind. By night, there weren’t many things that could stop these creatures, except probably the one thing that did.

    Their sickness for power led them to control who lives and who dies. Single individuals could wave their hands and so erase the lives of thousands, if not millions of others. It was madness, and ultimately, at midnight, it axed them out of existance. The first few hours of the morning were desolate, silent, and the few traces of a world were slowly fading away in the soft wind.

    And then at sunrise, there was a single blade of grass.

    1. Really enjoyed this prompt, you seized it and ran and what you found is sorrowful but with a lesson. Themes of isolation, dissolution, desolation, and solitude. All tied into the view of a single blade of grass at the epicenter of this prompt and your response. I also see some jabs at the reveler which is a great critiques on the attitude we see in our current times. Those who revel while we waste will also one day waste away too.

    2. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      That was a beautiful conjunction of form and content. Great tale here. I should have expected it, but the cyclical repetition caught me off-guard, and that was a pleasant surprise.

      I love the voice you use for this story – quite direct, very matter-of-factly. there are some sentences that punch specially hard due to this choice, such as “It was by afternoon that things got weird”.

      I can imagine that story being read while the tick-tock of a clock sounds in the background…

      Not sure if it was intentional or not, but it got me thinking on what the other hours of the Doomsday Clock could be like. I don’t think anyone has ever tried to rewind it back to around sunrise, but it makes me think a lot on what are the specific actions that make it tick or stop.

      Great tale!

  24. Cayden Avatar
    Cayden

    Revenge Isn’t Enough
    by Cayden R.

    A lone, cloaked figure strolled through the barren fields. The remaining fires strike a harsh glow against the horizon. A smoky haze fills the air, ash choking anything and everything it landed on.The figure continues, staking a path in the destruction.

    A breeze sweeps across the hellscape, catching on the figure’s hood, throwing it back to reveal a young woman. The ghost of a smile crosses her face as she pauses. Only for a second she stands, before trudging on.

    A soothing melody fills the silence as the woman hums a tune. Suddenly, the song stops as quickly as it had begun. The woman stands as still as ice, unmoving. She crouches down slowly, her attention affixed to something on the ground.

    A single blade of grass. The bright green stark against the blackened ground surrounding it. Like a lonely island surrounded by a restless sea. The single piece of evidence that anything had lived and grown in this now desolate place.

    The woman’s face contorted into a look of pure anger and hatred. She plucked the blade gently from where it lie, before erupting it into a ball of flame. The grass quickly shriveled and faded into ash, returning once more to the ground.

    The woman stood once more, a mask of serenity across her face. She continued her humming, the haunting melody once again filling the silence. She made it to the edge of the destruction and once again stood still before looking over her shoulder. A small smile split her lips before she whispered,

    “Nothing will be left, is that not what I promised ?”

    1. Very intriguing! I like the concept of a single figure in an empty landscape. My expectation from the first sentence had been that the person would be a survivor or nomad of some kind, so the destructive woman was an interesting surprise. I’m interested in your choice about the ending. It seemed to me that she was talking to the reader when she looks over her shoulder, but I wonder if you have something else in mind.

  25. Rislowe (Roy N.) Avatar
    Rislowe (Roy N.)

    The Price of Love

    By Rislowe (Roy N.)

    “I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch that.” Eric froze under Elise’s icy cold glare. “Repeat.”

    Eric swallowed before summoning his nerve. “Just teach me this one thing!”

    “No means no. No love spells. Give it up.”

    “Teaching me to bring things to life is fine, but a tiny love spell is where you draw the line? That’s bullshit!”

    “That’s it. OUTSIDE! NOW!”

    Eric swallowed his frustration, shooting Elise his own eye-daggers and stomped towards the backyard for another “practical lesson”. Elise’s house sat in the center of a crowded street in the middle of God-forsaken suburbia; a maze of courts, cul-de-sacs and crescents compacted in the outskirts of a major city. Yet when Eric stepped across the aluminum threshold, he found footing by a large vegetable patch and the start of what looked to be a thousand acre forest. Eric trudged onwards to the nearest clearing and Elise followed soon after, stopping for a second to pluck the single blade of grass that defied the odds and grew boldly in her precious garden.

    Elise jabbed a finger at Eric. “What is magic?”

    Eric sighed: “Shaping the world through symbols, belief, thought, and meaning.”

    “And what is this?” Elise held up the flimsy strand of grass.

    “A blade of grass?”

    “Exactly.” Elise turned and slashed the blade of grass. Eric yelped as an explosion rattled his ears like pealing thunder. The trunks of three oak trees shattered in the direction of Elise’s swing. The remaining parts of the tree trunks groaned before succumbing to their own weight, buckling under their own leaves and branches before crashing to the ground. Eric paled, expecting a lecture from Elise, but nothing this grim.

    “That,” Elise began. “Is what you wanted to do to that poor girl. You see those trees? No amount of magic can fix those anymore. We can help graft a new tree, or eliminate them entirely, but once things break they will never be the same. So how would you like your new girlfriend, Eric? Dead or crippled?”

    Eric stared at crumpled oak trees and shuddered.

    1. Lee Strangely Avatar
      Lee Strangely

      I remember writing a story awhile back based on the same premise of the consequences of using magic to manufacture love. However I think you one upped me in that you actually showed an example of magic’s devastating effects. I thinks it’s odd comparing something like a love spell to tearing apart a tree with a piece of grass, but the story still works for me. Good job!

      1. Rislowe (Roy N.) Avatar
        Rislowe (Roy N.)

        It really isn’t that odd. In the world of this story, magic is based on our understanding of a thing and using symbolism to manipulate it. In a later chapter, Eric decides he wants to use a love spell on his parents who are in the middle of a divorce. The emotion of love is present, yes, but all the little problems their love couldn’t solve are still there. They are forced to be together despite the dysfunction which is still just as strong as before and dissonance literally drives them insane. To Eric love is passion and devotion. He’s 14. He doesn’t know about compromise, or putting the work in, and if he did, he wouldn’t try to keep his parents together.

  26. MasaCur Avatar
    MasaCur

    Beatdown
    By MasaCur

    Jolts of pain erupted in Erykah’s side as she was blindsided by two quick kicks. She staggered back, her head snapping to face her opponent.

    The androgenous dark elf advanced on her, arms raised in a fighting stance, taking a few jabs at Erykah to drive her back.

    Thirteen. Rikke Farlund’s favorite henchperson. Of course that’s who was sent for her.

    Erykah raised her arms defensively, blocking the punches as she retreated away, trying to conjure a spell to her mind.

    To their credit, Thirteen was aggressive in closing in on her, not giving her an opening. A flurry of punches and kicks was launched, some even managing to get past Erykah’s defenses. Her opponent was fast. Maybe a little too fast.

    “You’re going to have to try better than that, Twelve,” Erykah grunted.

    “The name is Thirteen!” the dark elf growled.

    “Hey, Eleven, ask me if I care.”

    Thirteen planted a kick to Erykah’s chest, knocking her onto her back.

    It was just the opening she needed. Erykah’s hands were moving to construct the gust spell. It wouldn’t be much, just a distraction to give herself a little more time, but that might be all she needed.

    A rush of air passed from Erykah’s hand, kicking up dust and dirt directly into Thirteen’s face.

    The dark elf seemed prepared for it, covering their eyes as the cloud of detritus hit them.

    Erykah’s heart fell.

    “Nice try!” Thirteen scoffed. They started laughing as they approached, preparing to stomp Erykah while she was still down.

    Erykah watched as a fluttering blade of grass entered Thirteen’s mouth. Suddenly the elf gagged, and started choking. Thirteen doubled over in a coughing fit.

    Erykah sprang gleefully to her feet, and punched her fist into the palm of her other hand. All thoughts of using magic to fend off Thirteen left her head. Instead, she felt a desire to beat the dark elf in a more visceral way.

    “All right, you fucking rabbit. Time to drop some pain bombs!”

    1. Talk about bad luck. Thirteen was doing really well, before getting hit in the mouth by that blade of grass, causing him to falter. Especially, after predicting Erykah’s move with the dust in the face.

      In terms of character, Erykah and Thirteen seem to have a bit of a personal history, given the aggression which she shows towards him. It’s an interesting facet to see between hero and henchman, making the latter seem less of a faceless obstacle.

      Well written!

  27. Tamela Redfin Avatar
    Tamela Redfin

    The ground is soft (Tale of Gilbert)

    By Tamela Redfin

    “I guess our mission is to get Elenora because Klon Vatti is ein idiot.” I muttered, “Guess he’s never heard of motherly instinct.”

    “True.” Corlita replied. “Also considering Feldspar Augen is biologically male, your second statement is also true.”

    “I know that, but Corlita, this is a death mission, and are you ready for this?” I asked.

    “I was programmed ready.” She answered.

    I could see now. She never knew a world outside of one set for her. Poor thing. “Even to touch grass?”

    “Poaceae? Wouldn’t that seize up my circuits? Especially if it’s wet.” She looked slightly shocked.

    “Not dry grass and given its afternoon in a summer, you should be fine.” I smiled, gently grabbing her hand.

    “Positive?” She flinched.

    “True.” I smiled, leading her to the patio. “Watch me. I’ll leave the cement in my bare feet.” I removed my socks and shoes, revealing my mechanical toes. Soft crunches could be heard. I encouraged her to do the same with her ratty shoes.

    “Fantastic!” She smiled, running to the grassy plains. “Wait, my face isn’t programmed to do that. What’s that called by humans?”

    “Oh, smiling. Sometimes, you can defy your programming.” I smiled back. “Now do you feel better?”

    “True.” She squealed. “True, true! I feel much better.”

    “I’m glad. See you just needed to touch the grass.” I stepped back onto the patio, putting my socks and shoes back on. “Just don’t tell Feldspar Augen we did this.”

    “Why not?” She looked curious now.

    “He doesn’t like smiling.” I lied, not wanting her to turn me in for overriding her natural programming.

    “It will be our little secret, 105, I mean Gilbert.” She winked after turning off her lasers.

    1. Oh how i enjoy robots, i can really appreciate the exploration and wonder at play in this story. You really took touch grass to another level with robots. Good attention to detail on actions. The serious tone of a robot set with a task is very fun when juxtaposed to the action itself. Great job!

    2. Nice to see our girl defying the will of her (for now) Master. Augen is in for a succession of nasty surprises and I am here for it.

  28. Skeleton Avatar
    Skeleton

    Which Weapon Whacks Well? (The Will)
    By Skeleton

    “Now then,” Mobius began with a confident grin, poorly hiding his giddy excitement at training his only apparent sister. “That thing in your claw isn’t a toy. It’s a tool designed to—”

    “—kill people, I know,” Zaila rolled her eyes, bringing the sword between Mobius and herself. “Can we just skip to the part where I trounce you? Ericka promised to take over inventory if I could land a hit on you.”

    The red dragon raised his brows, but said nothing as he brought out his weapon.

    Zaila dropped her guard. “That’s a piece of grass,” she complained, motioning to the insult in the dragon’s claw.

    “It sure is,” Mobius confirmed playfully, readying the blade and prompting his opponent to do the same, albeit with more smugness than the red prince.

    A moment of stillness. A strong gust rustled the leaves of the canopy nearby.

    Zaila lunged and watched as the grass in her half-brother’s claw gleamed a fiery-red the moment it collided with her blade. The instant she realized she had not cut the plant, her legs were swept out from underneath her has the blade was wrenched from her claws. The purple dragoness landed on her back as Mobius began to trot around her, chastising and taunting the girl with the green grass.

    “Tisk tisk, Zaila,” he mirthfully remarked. “You really should have seen this coming.”

    Zaila shot up from the dirt with renewed frustration. “How did I not cut it!?” she fumed. “It’s just a flimsy—!”

    “Any Will worth their salt can enhance physical materials with their life essence,” Mobius interrupted with a comforting smile. “Armour, tools, flesh, nerves, and yes, even grass. It’s what makes a Will faster, stronger, and more lethal than your average highwayman. It’s also what Eymir wanted me to teach you before he returns.”

    Zaila grumbled and crossed her arms. “So that’s what he meant…” she lamented. “A sword isn’t a weapon—you are.”

    Mobius squeezed her shoulder with his claw and smiled warmly. “I’ll help you with inventory. We’ll train after!”

    Zaila sighed. At least her brother was a good guy.

    1. It was immediately clear what the characters’ motivations and relationships were, which is difficult to accomplish in such a short piece. You did really well deciding what was necessary and unnecessary in order to share this scene between two siblings without over-explaining and wasting words. On that note, I think you could make your prose a little tighter if you consider your adjectives. For example, “tisk tisk” implies that he was mirthful. I like the sentence though and only noticed because the word count is so limited. That would leave room to describe other elements like their appearances which I was curious about. Nice work, you have a rich imagination!

    2. Interesting bit of world building in this scene. I remember Wills from previous submissions, but now I finally understand what they can do. Enhancing the physical properties of anything is certainly a powerful skill to have and can transform anything into a weapon.

      I like how seemlessly you worked the prompt into the showcase of Mobius’ powers. A blade of grass can become as strong as steel, if enhanced properly. It was a nice touch and really fit the prompt.

      Well done!

  29. Just Beneath the Surface
    By Sam

    A blade of grass stuck to her bare shin. She brushed it away as she leaned over to unlace her hiking boots at the door. It left green residue on her skin with the sweat and dirt from the walk. The dogs tore through the apartment, upheaving the rugs in their haste to reach the kitchen. She shook the plastic container, not to tease, but in contemplation, before filling the bowls.

    The dogs were siblings, mutts, four years old, and dumb. She watched them a moment with her hands on her hips then tried to gently push the yellow one, nudge it and distract it, but it snarled at her and ate until it vomited and then ate the unchewed kibble a second time. The black one was more sensible, ate, rooted around for crumbs, then slept.

    She flopped on the sofa, licked her thumb and rubbed the green stain but only seemed to spread it. Perhaps it was the shadow of a vein. She started to pull her leg up when the yellow dog bound into her lap, too large for it to be sweet.

    They went out again before dinner. They walked down the path, followed the creek and stopped at the edge of the woods to relieve themselves. Then they waited, snuffling through the wet grass, pulling at their leashes, and her leaning over to rub the stain.

    The stain didn’t seem to be a stain but a splinter. The blade of grass just beneath one translucent layer of skin. Finally, the dogs began to bark, the black one standing behind her, the yellow one lurching. Calmly she unclipped its leash and it bolted after a flash of green eyes.

    She turned towards home, giving the black dog’s leash a tug until it followed, first distracted, then happy to lead the way. She boiled rice with a packet of gravy mix and shared this with the dog, then spent the evening squeezing and picking the splinter that only seemed to dig in deeper while the black dog slept.

    1. Rislowe (Roy N.) Avatar
      Rislowe (Roy N.)

      Is this a story about depression? I might be reading too deeply into this but the imagery fits to a T. I LOVE the way you write! Just the right amount of show and tell, plus a great use of evocative words to describe imagery. It was hard not to get lost here. Great work!

    2. I’m incredibly biased towards liking this one because I was generally looking for this kind of approach to the story when I saw the prompt (even though I didn’t approach it that way myself). I love the way in which the title is related to the story (can grass actually Get There though? If so, I’m suddenly terrified of it)

  30. Jacob Sac à Viande Avatar
    Jacob Sac à Viande

    The green witness.
    By Jacob Guillerey

    My ears were ringing as the cold unfeeling ground was pressing up against my jaw. My left eye, congealed shut by a viscous liquid, refused to open. As I opened my other eye, the edges of my copper helmet blocked out my vision to the outside world. And a small ray of light pierced through, illuminating a single blade of grass, tickling my nose.

    My legs wouldn’t budge, and the weight of another man’s body was pressed upon my arms. Telyord Vredestriidjer, the great warrior blessed by Slaget The Furious, lord of war. Such titles didn’t mean much when your whole body was stuck unmoving. All that was left in front of me was that isolated blade of grass.

    It wasn’t much of anything, a small, green, hair thin plant, but I could feel it mocking me. In the middle of a battle that would stomp over an entire land, destroying the life that lived upon it, it was saved by one of the bloodiest soldiers, slowly dying over it.

    I could still hear the sounds of the battle, my brothers in arms pressing back against the tide of willing dead men. But I could mostly feel my blood leaving my body. A drop fell upon the blade of grass. As the drop descended upon its body, it revealed the grass’s veins, pumping water and nutrients from the ground. My vision started to fade, and I could now hear the blade’s workings.

    A low droning rumble, vibrating through my temple. The strength of its grip upon my nose started to intensify. And before I knew it, I could feel nothing but its touch. Grappling me, slowly drinking upon my forces. But I didn’t mind. I still hope as I talk to you, Ô Küunstäap Audience Of The Dead, that this single blade of grass survived this battle, and, using my blood, repopulates the entire battlefield.
    I would be happy knowing that it has become an entire field of grass, nurtured by what remains of me.

    1. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      This was an interesting take on the prompt.

      I really liked how there is a contrast in the grand battle going on and the limited perception the fallen soldier has from his dying position. His dying body protecting a single blade of grass, which is the only thing he can perceive in his final moments. It was also quite interesting how you managed to shift the focus and attention to the soldier situation to his perception of the blade of grass… while the story progresses, his situation start to fade with his pain and wounds, and the blade of grass becomes more prominent, revealing more of its facets.

      This was a very interesting take on the prompt, and very well executed. Great work!

    2. This made me think of the song _In Flanders’ Field_. Where once soldiers killed each other for homeland, glory, and fabulous prizes, flowers grow now that the battle is gone.

      Names are a troublesome thing with stories like these. On one hand, you want something that evokes the culture and so forth. On the other, you want something that an unfamiliar reader will be able to pronounce on the first go. I try not to have any umlauts or accent marks or spelling that’s TOO weird for these short tales.

      Balance, and the word limits, are tricky little beasts.

      1. Jacob Sac à Viande Avatar
        Jacob Sac à Viande

        Didn’t know the song. And i do agree, with one slight detail, for the soldier in my story, there is no, or almost no melancholy.

        I’m always hesitant with my names. So I basically took advise from Hesiod, and i always mention people or god’s titles if they have them. I try to balance it that way because i’m way too attached to my names now.

    3. This is such a great use of the prompt. I love how this huge, important battle is going on and the narrator’s world is completely cut off from it and entirely centered on that one blade of grass. It’s such a powerful visual. Both in how the blade is described as pretty much the only thing he can see anymore, as well as the emotion it rose out of him as he died.

      And just the fact that he ended up not only being something of a protector for it, but a nurturer as well. It all just strikes a powerful chord and is a very emotional read.

      Very well done!

  31. RamblingRook Avatar
    RamblingRook

    The Ruminations of Children
    By RamblingRook

    “We’re no different than a blade of grass.”

    “What?” Harlow shifted his head to look at his friend. They were both lying on their backs nestled under the shade of a young oak. Gazing up at summer clouds and listening to the wind whistling through the meadow grass. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

    Finn sat up and absentmindedly plucked a blade of grass. “Think about it. There’s billions of both of us all living together growing separately, but still as a whole.”

    A cloud passed overhead and Harlow watched as it morphed into a child chasing a ball. It fills him with a strange sadness. “I guess, but we have lives, can talk to people, and feel things.”

    A moment of silence passed and Harlow thought he was being too hard on Finn. Until he noticed him staring at the grass in his hand. “Everything okay?”

    Finn turned, an unexplainable light behind his eyes. “How does it know to grow?”

    “The grass?”

    Finn nodded his head.

    “When the soil gets warm, everyone knows that.”

    A smile spread across Finn’s face. “So plants can feel. How do we know when it needs water?”

    Harlow sat and stared at Finn. He had started to feel foolish about the absurdity of these questions. “It starts to dry out.”

    “So plants can talk. Just not in the way we do.”

    Harlow shook his head. “But we still have lives.”

    Finn lied down again, hands clasped over his chest. “Just because we can’t understand doesn’t mean there isn’t anything to. We are alive. Everything is connected, therefore everything we become is alive.”

    Harlow let himself fall onto his back. “But we are human, not the grass.”

    Finn’s lifeful eyes seemed to hide a secret that only he knew. “What do we become when we’re gone?”

    Harlow stands under the shade of a mighty oak. Gazing up at summer clouds and listening to the wind whistling through the meadow grass. It too is older.

    A tear falls down his cheek looking at his friend’s grave. A wistful smile claims his lips. “We become the grass.”

    1. Rislowe (Roy N.) Avatar
      Rislowe (Roy N.)

      A little melodramatic in places, especially since the main characters are supposed to be children, but I can dig it. I can’t help but shake the feeling that at least one of these children is going to die suddenly. If this is on purpose you have my gold seal of approval.

    2. Cayden Avatar
      Cayden

      The bittersweet wondering is such an amazing thing to write about ! The way you captured the emotion as well was spectacular. The build up to the ending was done beautifully !

    3. I love the theme, partially because the approach to it is similar to mine (even though it’s very different). The title kinda does imply that these are children, and unless they’re existentially traumatized I don’t think these characters actually are children (and nothing seems to indicate that the title is metaphorical). The comparison to grass seems oddly like something I’ve seen a lot before? Even though I’ve never actually seen it. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but it felt worth pointing out.

    4. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      I really liked this story, but I wasn’t really taken by it until the very end. So others may even point out the melodramatic tone in places, but I will say that the melodrama here works and engages.

      Reading it a second time makes me wonder if that wasn’t a conversation that was supposed to be a little more straight-forward and then got caught in its possibilities (which is something I found fascinating). Two people (implied but not confirmed to be children) talking over a friend grave (of is it just one children imagining/remembering the answers his late/lost friend would say?) discussing over a grave… “We’re no different than a blade of grass” could then be just a statement on the fragility of life and how it is a fleeting thing. But then, it might be even more…

      The only thing that annoys me a bit is the thought that at first one of them don’t take the blade of grass to be “alive”. This sounds very odd to me (and yours is not the only story where this consideration appears, which is doubly odd). But that’s more an annoyance with how one of your characters conceive of things than an annoyance at the story, so that’s just something I wanted to share.

      Great work!

  32. A Job Done Too Well (Cordelia’s Journey) [From Private]
    C. M. Weller

    Finally, after the debacle with the dandelion, Miss Cordelia Bellarin was ready to rejoin her age-mates in Lithonesse’s courtyard. Matron Stark remained ready for trouble, keeping an eagle eye on the girl. Owing to her four older sisters, she was known to the school, and frequently addressed, as “Miss Bellarin Quintus”. And, thank the gods, she was proceeding rather well.

    Matron Stark still kept a hand ready over the Rod of Correction. Just in case the girl backslid and used her servile and common Druidic gifts. So far, so good. She was re-introducing herself to her classmates after so much remedial time in Lithonesse’s dungeons.

    All right and proper. Perfect posture. Perfect grace.

    At least until she saw something during one of her curtseys. Something that terrified her.

    Stark lunged towards the gaggle of girls as Miss Bellarin Quintus staggered backwards in full hysterics. The other students were confused by the display, scattering away from their shrieking age-mate as they spotted Matron Stark’s approach.

    Stark put herself between the problem girl and whatever she had fixed her terrified gaze upon. “MISS Bellarin Quintus! Go practice your sidesaddle immediately and remember your breathing!”

    The girl worked on her breathing instantly as she marched towards the wooden horse made for such practice. Only then, did Stark attempt to divine what the fuss was about.

    A single fragment of green had once more forced its way into the stark, bare environment of Lithonesse. A tiny shard of grass, in ground that was so hard-trodden that it was practically stone. Had the girl unconsciously summoned it? Or was it neglect on behalf of the groundskeeper?

    An investigation must be necessary. AFTER the Matrons of Lithonesse allowed Miss Bellarin Quintus to re-acclimate to plants. It would not be suitable to have a lady of high class to have a phobia of gardens, when garden parties were a vital part of the social scene.

    1. Jacob Sac à Viande Avatar
      Jacob Sac à Viande

      First thing off, loved the story.
      You can quickly tell the kind of strict and noble environment in which these ladies live.
      I was a bit lost at first with who was who, but from the second paragraph onward, it was made clear in my opinion.
      On a technical approach, I find it to be spotless and beyond.

      The only negative critics I would have (other than being lost at the very beginning) are :

      1) The presence of magic (or at least druidic inspiration) is presented early but then not exploited, the only element that it presents to my eyes are the irony of a plantphobic druid and the presence of magic in the universe. But i cannot say if it adds or retracts any quality to the text.

      2) The historical/cutural/technological period in the text is unclear to me, as druids are often represented in antiquity to early middle ages while the whole “strict school and garden parties” setting is more linked to late middle ages to early industrial revolution. Perhaps the descriptions of the larger setting outside of a short story like this one would make it clearer. Or maybe a description in the text about the kind of building they are in or maybe their clothing ?

      In a general matter, great text, loved to read it.

      1. This is a Kitchen Sink Fantasy and part of a larger thing involving a Tiefling Viscount working incognito. It’s complicated. [And yes, I am working on a whole novel about this]

        Service-type magics like Druidry are frowned upon because magics that are USEFUL are not held as ideal for the idle rich. Yes, I am sniping at the upper classes. Thanks for noticing. [ten men with their feet in the mud to keep one man with his head in the clouds, sort of thing]

        Those familiar with the longer continuity would be at home with all of this and thanks for pointing out where I had the audacity to assume everyone could know this stuff.

        Word limits are the bane of ALL of our existences.

        1. Jacob Sac à Viande Avatar
          Jacob Sac à Viande

          I assume That you wish for me to answer here.

          And there is one point where i absolutely agree, and that is the word count, but i get why they would want to limit it.

          I like your use of magic as you describe it , it’s often forgotten when using magic systems, but they would be an integral part of a world in which it exists.
          It would even be logical for it not to be called magic in some circumstances.

          Once you’ll have finished writing your novel, I would find it interesting to read I bet !

    2. Tamela Redfin Avatar
      Tamela Redfin

      Awesome read!
      I enjoyed the set up and the pay off worked. 10/10 work investigate (and possibly lose status for) again. 😀

      1. I do not understand all of that, but I’m taking it as a compliment 😉

    3. This is… So messed up.
      Like. Not just the whole behavior expectations and modifications, bit how deliberately barren of all plant life the place apparently is.

      If the students there didn’t have depression and anxiety when they went in, they sure as shit will when they come out.

  33. You Were Expecting A Literal Interpretation, But It Was Me…
    By Marx

    “Matt… you don’t understand what you’re asking…” Laila murmured, dropping her head.

    “Funny. I thought I was just asking you to be my friend. Instead of pretending to be.”

    Laila sighed back, wincing at the phrasing. “It’s… not that simple.”

    Matt crossed his arms. “Simplify it then.”

    “Matt… I’ve been an angel since before Earth was a thing, much less humanity. You’re thinking like a human, but… I don’t have that luxury. I was created to fight for Heaven. And after Death was born, my purpose became to kill as well. That’s who I am. I can’t just… stop my purpose for being.”

    “Well, I think your purpose sucks.”

    Laila looked up suddenly as if she’d been slapped, the pain of Matt’s words etched on her face.

    “I don’t know that Laila. You went out of your way to hide that Laila from me pretty much my whole life. The only Laila I know is sweet. Caring. She’s not the best at hiding her emotions and a bit of a goofball. Personally, I don’t think you could have faked ALL of that.”

    “I didn’t fake any of that…” Laila mumbled under her breath.

    “Then there’s more to you than fighting and killing. In fact, I know there’s more to you than that because if there wasn’t, you would have killed me already. That’s what a ‘warrior angel’ would have done, right? Because I’m too big of a potential threat to exist if I don’t blindly follow them?”

    “Matt… you’re asking me to choose you over… Heaven. Over the other angels. Over a life I’ve been living for eons.”

    Matt shrugged. “Well, from what I can tell, it’s either that or you kill me. So, who are you? My friend or an angel?”

    Laila’s features turned from conflicted to furious before she grabbed Matt and much to his surprise, kissed him.

    Matt stood dumbfounded. “Well, that was… unexpected.”

    “I know. We can talk about it later. Now shut up and give me a moment to figure out a future where Heaven doesn’t kill us.”

    “Us.” Matt smiled. “That works for me.”

    1. Jacob Sac à Viande Avatar
      Jacob Sac à Viande

      So my two first impressions :
      1) I love the reason for two angels leaving the side of heaven being that they became too Human.
      2) Where is the blade of grass ?

      About the second one, as you have mentioned, you didn’t go for a literal interpretation, so i suppose the blade of grass is more about the relationship between the two angels, if not the angels themselves.

      If we go for the relationship itself, it would mean that the single thing, often overlooked, and often considered as without influence over the world, suddenly becomes the center of attention. And it would fit with a relationship between angels, may it be hate, love or friendship.
      If we continue exploring that idea in further short stories or novels, it would be in my opinion interesting to see other angels leave the side of paradise because of this hole in heaven’s attention. The hate between two guardians, who’s rivalry degenerates into a battle that can no longer be contained behind the sacred halls (or clouds or whatever) of heaven. And that battle leads them to discover what else heaven has kept away from them.

      If we go for the single blade of grass, being two single blades of grass becoming one in the form of the two angels, I would find it interesting trying to explore one of the properties of grass that goes opposite to the prompt. Reproduction. The fact that a single blade of grass in less than a year can form an entire field.
      And it could be interesting to explore the concept of the children of angels, facing off against heaven itself while their parents are still fleeing their origins. Funnily enough that could lead o an origin story for humanity, going back to my first observation.

      Now for the text itself, It is mainly focused on dialog, which is logical for such a short story. But I must admit i end up wondering what kind of angels they are. Cherubins ? Bible-accurate angels ? SCP 001 Gate guardian ? The kiss at the end seems to indicate at least an animalistic appearance, but my curiosity is tingled.
      As for the more technical aspects, I didn’t notice anything negative, appart for one specific part the “I don’t know that laila” had me confused as i thought he was saying “I don’t know that to be true laila” Maybe it was just me but maybe there could be something done there.

      Overall, great text, and leads the mind to wonder what comes next, before and around.

      1. Thank you so much for your review! I genuinely love to see how people who aren’t familiar with my world(All my stories here take place in it) translate everything. There’s only so much detail you can put in the word limit, which forces the reader to fill in the blanks, leading to some interesting results.

        Case in point, Matt isn’t an angel lol. But I can absolutely see how he could be seen that way in the text. He’s actually the offspring of an angel and a demon, which does go into your question about angels reproducing. But that’s why he thinks like a human. He grew up as one.

        I also really love the idea of the single blade of grass being the two of them as one. There’s a few ways the prompt could be taken, but the initial idea was Laila being the blade of grass herself, separated from the rest of the angels.

        As for the “I don’t know that Laila.” line, it could be something that doesn’t translate without other knowledge, but it was meant in the sense that the Laila Matt knows isn’t a killer. She kept that side of her secret from him.

        Really glad you enjoyed the story!

    2. You had my like from the title.
      Why that title though?

      Can I assume Matt, despite everything, is the “blade of grass” in this story? Since his existence is equivalent to a grain of sand on the beach of Lila’s existence.

      And Laila seems like she really needs to…touch grass.

      1. Lol honestly, I was just going over my head as to what the title would be, and you just can’t avoid Jojo memes and one inspired me, and made me laugh. If a title idea makes me laugh it wins by default.

        And funnily enough, I tried to make it so that Matt or Laila could be the single blade of grass depending on how you saw it. Either humanity is the “lawn” or the angels are lol.

        As for Laila needing to “touch grass”, you aren’t wrong lol.

        Thanks for the review!

Leave a Reply to Sam Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *