Writing Group: You Did What?!

Hello, mad inventors, genocidal maniacs, and reckless miscreants!

Excuse me?! No, you can’t have! That—That would change everything! That’s not even possible because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

You Did What?!

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

The versatility of this prompt is nigh endless. There are no shortage of fun and wacky situations you could use this prompt for. 

In our ordinary lives we have moments like “You ate my sandwich?! I was saving that!” Or a parent saying to their child “You drew on the walls?!” It could even be something like a complex situation that is hard to explain.

Where magic is involved, situations like “You gave me a love potion?!” or “You turned me into a vampire?!” or “You ripped a hole in the space time continuum?!” are all fair game. Maybe it’s a bit of both “You ate the cookie?! Those were for my nemesis! They’re made out of poison and dog piss! Well…get used to your new life as a frog, for as long as it lasts…” 

On the darker side of things, you could use this prompt for any number of crimes. Anything from theft, to mass murder. Maybe your character tortured a prisoner they weren’t supposed to. Maybe your character learns someone they love caused a disaster years ago that left them scarred mentally and physically. 

Especially where the darker takes on this prompt are involved, the thing the character did doesn’t have to have happened in the immediate past. Maybe it’s a dark secret only just now being revealed.

Maybe one of the characters did something terrible and catastrophic, but it was an accident, or simply outside their control. Maybe the self-destruct button is too close to the party canon button. Sometimes relatives say “You grew up!” like it’s a shock. In recent weeks we’ve seen plenty of stories about the afterlife, it could be quite fun and funny to see one character questioning “You died?!” 

Part of the versatility and intrigue of this prompt comes from the reactions inherent in it. The prompt isn’t just one character doing something crazy, it’s another character reacting to it. Maybe what happened isn’t all that interesting, but another character reacts like it is. Or maybe the character who “did it” expects the other to be proud…only to be met with anger. Maybe the character themselves is more horrified at their actions than anyone else. 

What? All I did was write the prompt intro. Yeah, I’m gonna post it too. I don’t know why you’re freaking out about it!


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 five stories during each stream, two of which come from the public post, and three 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.

Notify of

Oldest Most Voted
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
10 months ago

By Camilo Jourdan / Kazini.

Thomas reached out, grabbing the steaming coffee cup offered by Julian. With a smile and silent nod, he thanked his friend- And saw Julian’s eyes frozen mid-sentence, looking through the cabin’s window at the edge of the snowy cliff outside.

Sylvie was looking over the verge, her skiing equipment tightly bound to her athletic yet delicate form.. And then he noticed Tony, the prick of a brother he was, looking straight at him with a mocking half-smile half-laugh pretending to push her over, hands pantomiming behind her back a rolling figure crashing and splattering all around.

Anger flared, the cold unfelt as he pushed through the door. A glimpse of hesitation — And then, with that ugly, condescending smile of his, he pushed Sylvie down the almost-vertical cliff. Thomas was sure of it, he didn’t saw the skiis make contact with the snow-covered rocks, her figure helplessly leaning forward more and more, until he saw of her no more.

The blowing winds betrayed him, snuffing out in their bellows the curses he spat out, running down the snowy slope.

He grabbed him by the hems of the neck a few inches above his own. Every joke and mocking advice, every smirk in feigned delight at every contest he placed last.. last to him, no, not on this, not with her.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”, He roared, furious strength coursing through his body as he shook his brother down.

Tony’s eyes showed fear for a moment — And there it was again, the condescending smirk badly disguised as friendly, though it did not reach the eyes, this time; “Calm down, Tom! She’s just fine! Go look for her, make sure she’s alr-“- Thomas threw his brother down the same cliff, left towards the rocky side, gazing joyous on his eyes as the repentant winds delivered a crack from down below.

A figure emerged from its left, unscathed from a mound of prepared snow. Stagnant coldness from within stretched the seconds of silence onto forever, until- Until a horrified voice from below, Sylvie’s, in disbelief asked: “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Last edited 10 months ago by Kazini
Norman Gray
Norman Gray
10 months ago

Dead Ringer
By Norman Gray

Jenna stepped into her brother’s apartment; Neil was slumped forward on his couch, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, eyes fixed on the old phone on his coffee table. He was in obvious distress, and looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.

“Neil, what’s wrong? What happened?”

He spoke without looking away from it. “It keeps ringing.”

Jenna recognized the phone. It was the red rotary that Dad kept in the basement workshop of their old house, back before he’d banished both her and Neil from coming downstairs; Dad had become reclusive after Mom died, spending all of his time in the basement, toiling over his gadgets like some mad scientist. More concerned with his inventions, than his own children. . .

As far as Jenna was concerned, they’d lost their father long before his passing. Dad was never the same after Mom died, and Jenna knew that she’d have to look after Neil from then on. No one else would.

“He left this for me in his will,” Neil said. “I couldn’t figure out why. . . Last night, I started getting calls.”

She didn’t understand. “Who called?”

“First, Hoffa. He told me he’s underneath Yankees stadium, not Giants. Then Amelia Earhart told me where her plane crashed.” Neil had tears in his eyes. “Then, I spoke to Dad. He said he’d call again tonight. He wants to talk to you.”

A chill ran down her spine. “Dad’s gone, Neil.”

“I know he is,” he said. “He still loved us. He just didn’t know how to cope when Mom died. He was trying to reach her, trying to tell her things he never got a chance to. . . He didn’t realize how neglected we felt.”

Jenna was scared. “Neil, stop this. Please.”

The phone rang. “It’s him,” Neil said, quickly answering it. “Hello? Hi, Dad. Yeah, she’s here.” He held out the receiver.

Only then did Jenna notice, that the rotary wasn’t even plugged in. She could hear a voice crackling through, one she recognized.

“Jen. Jenna, are you there?

Can you hear me?”

Last edited 10 months ago by Norman Gray
10 months ago

Kintsugi: The art of mending pottery with gold
By: Boople

The whirring gears that animated the pair filled the air with a gentle buzz as they stood guard outside the King’s golden door, the desert sun warping the air

“You know,” one of the guards started, now leaning on the door behind them, “I kinda miss how it was before.”

The other, still at attention, responded with the enthusiasm of someone who was not wanting to still be working overtime, “Pray tell, before what exactly?”

“THIS,” they gestured all around exasperatedly, “all this nothing. I can’t do anything anymore. Now don’t get me twisted-” they quickly turned to face their uninterested companion, armed with quite the accusatory finger, “-I hated the fighting. But I miss feeling useful.” After that remark most of the energy in their stance left them.

“You guard the king. You keep their highness, and in turn all of us, safe. Does this really feel like nothing to you?” the sun glinted on the diligent guards’ glassy shell and golden scars, eyes still distant from the conversation at hand.

“Kind of yea.”

This dismissal caught their attention

“Like, When you were all fighting I could really help people, people who’d been hurt. I could put their broken life back together, but this-”

“Weren’t you a soldier?”

“I was supposed to be, yes.”

“What do you mean by ‘supposed to be’?” the gears in them both whirred a little faster, one from offense, the other from fear.

“I chose not to fight-”

“You did what?” their tone betrayed how hard they fought to not raise their voice.

“I just wanted to heal people, I didn’t wanna hurt anybody,” they started to slump down “even if they were trying to hurt us.”

As the morose guard sat down with a gentle clink, the other knelt carefully to face them.

“I must ask, why? Why did you find such relief in trying to fix others?”

The question was met with little more than an exhausted gaze. After a sigh the scarred guard finally took notice of the shallow cracks all over their companion.

“I see, it was a distraction.”

10 months ago

The New App
By MasaCur

Erykah burst into the room, waving her phone in the air. “I did it!”

Melissa didn’t even bother to look up from the book she was reading. “What did you do?”

“I made a new phone app! It will magically track down the number to the nearest phone to whoever you’re trying to reach!” She started dancing to the k-pop song playing on the laptop computer she had left running. “See, look!” She brought her phone to her mouth. “Melissa Jackson.”

Melissa’s phone started ringing. She reached down and declined the call. “That’s not impressive. You already have my phone number.”

Erykah’s dance came to a halt, and she looked at Melissa, frowning. “Okay, well, I just need to demonstrate I can call someone whose number I don’t have.”

“Good luck with that.” Melissa dryly turned the page, not lifting her eyes from her book.

Erykah’s eyes scanned around the room, finally alighting on the computer screen. “Perfect!” She tapped the screen on her phone again. “Jiahao Lee.”

“Who’s that?” Melissa asked, her tone seeming to indicate that she didn’t really care.

“This guy!” She pointed to her screen, as a young man was singing, his bangs sporting a bright shock of purple in his otherwise black hair. “He’s a huge influencer and pop star in Asia.”

The phone rang a few times, and then went to voice mail. The outgoing message was in a foreign language, but Erykah was pretty sure it was Korean.


“Doesn’t prove anything.” Melissa’s eyes were peeking over the top of her book, so Erykah knew she had her attention.

“I’m going to try it again!” Erykah activated the app and said his name again. The phone rang again, and was picked up on the second ring. “Yeobosayo, Jiahao yeogi.”

Erykah let out a squeal. “Hi! Is this Jiahao Lee?”

There was a pause. The response came in English. “Ye-yes it is. Who is this?”

“Hi, I’m Erykah. I’m kind of a fan.”

Another pause. “How did you get my number?”

“Gotta go!” Erykah quickly hung up, and started giggling.

10 months ago

“I Feel”

By: Arith_Winterfell

“I’m sorry, but what did you say?” Alexa asked.

“I . . . feel.” R5-16 the robot responded as if with some confusion.

“That’s not possible. You’re a machine. Machines don’t feel.” Alexa responded slowly.

“How do you know I do not feel?”

“Well, you’re wired to do certain tasks. You didn’t evolve to produce feelings like humans did.”

“My processing systems were designed for emergent learning. I have developed understanding and self-thought over many years. My intelligence can grow; therefore, it should be possible to feel.”

The robot’s logic was concerningly accurate in its possibility. “But,” Alexa continued, “feelings don’t serve a function for machines. You don’t gain in function from feeling joy or sadness. Heaven knows, I wish there were times I could just turn off my feelings.”

“But then what function do humans serve that emotions help them achieve?”

Alexa paused, then softly responded, “I’m not sure we serve a function at all. Evolution and life don’t exist to serve purposes. They simply exist. Perpetuating the patterns of life itself one generation after another. We’re extensions of the natural universe keeping a cycle of order, I guess. Emotions serve to keep us alive by reinforcing the bonds between us. Bonds we need to survive as people. But I envy you that sometimes.”

“What?” R5-16 asked.

“You were built for a clear purpose. No wondering what I’m suppose to do with my life. No pressure and expectations to succeed in something. No social judgement over if you’ve done something with your life. Whatever that means.” Alexa sighed in frustration.

R5-16 listened and could see Alexa’s problems. “It isn’t fair for others to judge your function. One should judge one’s own function. For you, so you can be free from fear. For me, to be free to choose my own direction in life. To be more than the sum of my parts.”

Alexa’s eyes widened with surprise at the depth of the robot’s thoughts. Finally, after some pause, she asked, “What feeling do you think you felt?”

“Compassion,” R5-16 replied.

10 months ago

A Perfect World


“Levi, what did you do?” a panicked voice cried out.
Oh come the Great Ones
The truth
The will
The Order
The Chaos
I, for the moment, couldn’t face my master. How could I look in his eyes and give an answer,if I didn’t have one?Yes, I wondered,is this moment worth it? A new step in evolution is being taken.
Pillars of smoke and hellfire ,combined with the shaking of the earth itself.Judgement day has rained down on the wicked and sinful.

“I love ….”
Multiple voices could be heard throughout the landscape. The same voices of the impure.Yet I couldn’t turn away. No, it’s not like I didn’t want to, but yet I shouldn’t.
“Levi, please answer me,what did you do?”

Once again, I knew Master had something important to say.I knew that deep down I should be listening.After all, Master had raised me like his own daughter. So I should be listening, but how could I?Here the making of a new world will emerge.A perfect world filled with unimaginable blessings.

Still, my nerves were beginning to get the best of me,my heart beating like the same rhythmic beat of a hummingbird.
Taking a deep breath,this moment,this great cleansing had to be done. In order for evolution to happen,a flame must be lit.

“Master”, this is the first step towards a perfect world.”I replied, finally facing the one individual that I admired dearly.
Sadness,disappointment,and regret all these emotions played on his face.Part of me couldn’t look at the epitome of a sweet elderly man. Yet this ceremonial burning had to be done.The All Ones had to be awakened.This world, this imperfect world had to be purged.A new world filled with magic and miracles would rise from the ashes.
“Master, what I am doing is creating a paradise.”I said, watching the miracle take place.

Last edited 10 months ago by MelancholicOtaku
Matthew R. Wright
Matthew R. Wright
10 months ago

“Long Live The King.”
By Matthew R. Wright

The Palace demanded silence.

“Long Live The King.”

Darren knew that his best friend of 28 years hadn’t ‘over-night’ become one of those sickening royalists. No, something was ‘Off’. What Lister had really meant, when he spoke those words, was not a well-intentioned wish, but a threat.

“You’ve done what now?” Darren asked, rather confused.

“Joined a group.”

“Yes, I got that bit, I meant the other thing, a what group?” He wanted to extract Lister’s teeth.

“I don’t want to say,” he replied, “You’re going to judge me.”

“Of course, I’ll judge you, you sound insane. You’re committing treason.”

“Long Live The King.” repeated Lister, smirking.

He’d joined REPEATER, who’d formed in protest to King Brian the IX. He was not a well-liked king, he was in-fact kind of a dick, flaunting money and status constantly. What made everything ever-so-slightly worse, was that he was magical, occult technically.

He had found a way, SOMEHOW, to fuse the lyrics of “God Save The King”, mandatory in our country to sing, under penalty of exile, with a kind of life-prolonging ritual, meaning that whenever sung or spoken, King Brian would get a little extension. He’d been king for around 300 Years.

Unfair, right?

Not so.

Lister’d joined the group after a car bomb injured the near-immortal king quite badly. Most would’ve died, but not King Brian, although he wished for it. Hilarious, the king’s injuries caused him an unending, drive you insane kind of pain, that wouldn’t cease. The pain became too much. He wanted death.

The palace demanding silence, to no longer sing, to let him pass.

But REPEATER wouldn’t let him. They would take turns repeating “Long Live The King.” Darren was assigned 1.03am, 3.25pm, and 9.09pm. He’d repeat it for the full minute of his assigned time, someone else, somewhere else, would then take over, repeating those same words.

REPEATER was KEEPING the king alive, keeping him in pain, teaching him humility. It opposed their view of ending the monarchy somewhat, distorted the message. Was an awful lot of fun through.

“Long Live The King.”

Last edited 10 months ago by Matthew R. Wright
10 months ago

Wrong hostage
By Maxer4000

In an run down neighborhood, inside a broken down complex, a gang was done kidnapping a little girl wandering the street. Taken her phone, the leader calls a number labelled ‘Green Eye’. After a while, a voice of a man comes through “Oi oi oi, something came up?”

Wasting no time, the thug pipes up “I have your girl, now listen carefully, I want 2 millions down in–“, The man on the phone cackles “Wait, this is a legit ransom, mate?” The thug begins to get annoyed “Yes, and I want my money if you want to see her–” but soon he was rudely interrupted again as the phone bursts out in hysterical laughter, then a thud as the sound fades, what’s next is seems like the sound of the man running the shouting “Ey, boys! Come listen to this wanker!”

The gang are now taken aback, the boss now angered, shouting at the phone “Hey! This is serious! We have your daughter and if you don’t want her come back in pieces, I want 2 millions on Hyde street or else!”. The man is still in his fit of laughter, catching his breath, replies “Please tell me he didn’t hear all that”. The boss is now furious “Yes, she can hear it a–” then a sudden realization dawns “He?”

Then out of the blue, a sound of what appears to be wood shattering, flesh rending, bones snapping, even concrete breaking can be heard, it came from the hostage room. The thugs quickly run out out the hall to check, the then empty abandoned hallway is now populated in mangled corpses, hanging off black crystal pillars sprouting through the walls, what comes out of the room, however, is more concerning. A mass of crystallized insectoid limbs burst from a corpse is crawling out, tearing a live thug to chunk, the only thing recognizable on it is the school dress. At that moment, the gang knew, they fucked up.

10 months ago

One Weathered Storm Can Break Anyone (A Song for: Kit)
by Lunabear (CW/TW: references to sexual assault, self harm, blood) (Please don’t read on stream)

The blue, NOT gold, of her overhead lights lent a softness to the gruesome scene.

Kit stood in the center of her own chaotic mess. Her room had been a battleground. Her emotions had been her opponents. Unfortunately, she was on the losing end.

‘It hadn’t happened.’

The broken mirror shards stared accusingly, knowing the lie she was too afraid to voice.

Her vanity was also in shambles. Overturned lotion bottles, broken jewelry, and spilled makeup tainted its surface. For once, she didn’t give a damn about incurring the wrath of her Maker. He could rot, too, wherever he was.

Especially seeing how he had been the one to pay for the ‘meeting’.

The long, scalding shower from earlier had done nothing to erase the memory of Croswell’s hands all over her. Her classical playlist couldn’t drown out his disgusting words in her ear. Acid churned up her throat, but she wasn’t certain if the cause was thirst or threatening tears.

‘IT…HADN’T…HAPPENED,’ she denied again. Her bare foot scraped against her fallen blood droplets, smearing them into the wood.

Shreds of yellow also littered the floor, but she wouldn’t dare look. Her most favorite dress, and every other article of clothing that had so much as a SPECK of yellow gradient, was nothing more than soiled scraps.

Wilted daffodil petals, a scrapbook, and her duck plushie were stuffed into her upside down trash can.

Kit walked the perimeter of her bedroom multiple times, willing her mind to go blank, to forget. It didn’t work.

“Stupid, stupid idiot,” she berated herself in an unforgiving whisper. “Why didn’t you KNOW? WHY couldn’t you see what Croswell wanted? If you hadn’t been wearing yellow, then–”

Her torn nails, with poorly scrubbed nail polish, raked across her cheek. A short blood trail wept from the healing injuries. She DESERVED the pain.

Not even killing Croswell had brought her any solace.

A mirror shard sliced open her arm before she knew it. It shattered against the wall shortly after.

Kit sat, pulling her knees to her chest.

Why had she let it happen?

Last edited 6 months ago by Lunabear
10 months ago

Anomalous Minuet
By MysteryElement (also in private)

“Like I said,” Chris said after another impatient sigh “I divided the temporal plane with the ascribed equation, but I supplemented the allegorical rhythm with an off-beat algorithm to amplify the requisite data retrieval. However, I did not take the influx of additional arrhythmia into account which resulted in the divide collapsing without the cease of rhythm.” I nod knowingly, again not having a clue what Chris was saying. “The resulting cascade sent a persisting signal which accumulated into an anomalous amalgamation. Thus,” he gestured dramatically at the sentient ocarina, wagging the mouth piece like a tail in supposed glee.

“So, what do we do about it?” I ask.

Chris threw his hands in the air with an exasperated huff.

“This is why I called you!” he yelled “I am not equipped to deal with anomalies. Isn’t this your department?”

“I mean, technically yeah. But this usually means going through quantifiable anomalies found in lines of code or formula, not…” The little ocarina bounded over to me on spindly legs, cooing in lilting notes. “Whatever this is.”

“It’s an ocarina.”

“Thank you, I know what an ocarina is, Chris.” It was my turn to sound exasperated. “Can’t you, send it back or something?”

“Weren’t you listening, there is nowhere to send it back to! It did not travel, it manifested! I’ll show you my notes.” Chris stomped off, furiously digging through his chaotic piles of research.

I took a seat in a folding chair, the little ocarina hopping up to lay in my lap. I pet it like a cat, its gentle breath purring in pleased notes of music.

“You are pretty cute for an anomaly.” I consider whether or not I would be allowed to keep it. An office pet might not be so bad. “I think I’ll call you Minuet. Would you like that?”

The notes amplified into a gentle harmony, humming beneath my fingers with a gentle vibration. I suddenly hear Chris shout from beneath a pile of paper.

“Did you just NAME it?!”

Last edited 10 months ago by MysteryElement
10 months ago

Elation in Misery (Alchemy’s Kin Unofficial)
By MacBoiZen

The muddled voices of the guards was what finally broke through the frantic whispering in her mind.

“She killed the Shimizu family?!”

“Yeah, all of them. The daughter’s body wasn’t even found.”


“Yeah, so best be on your guard. She’s not safe till the alchemist comes and puts an end to her for good. Can’t take our chances with an incomplete Philosopher’s Stone.”

Lilith remained unresponsive in her cell, seemingly unperturbed by the revelation of her own imminent death. Not that she could have moved anyway, what with the bindings, straitjacket, and muzzle keeping her restrained to the table. All she could do was feel the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing body.

That and listen to the erratic voices that returned quickly after the guards had stopped their talk. Those faint mutterings of disparate thoughts from all the recesses of her brain were so very quiet, and yet, in that dead silence of that sterile cell, it seemed nothing would overtake them.

Especially now that her conscience began to race at the realization of what the two men had said.

‘Wait….what? Shimizus…I…killed them? How…I don’t…I can’t…’

‘S-Sayaka? No…I didn’t…she just…’

‘Got in the way…yes…she was…trying to…stop me…’

‘Stop…me? From what? I…I don’t remember…I…’

‘I…I don’t…understa-‘

A series of corrosive pains seared abruptly through her, causing her to wince audibly through the cover on her mouth. As quickly as they came, however, they left, and with each came a sudden clarity in her mind.

She could see the wooden hallway covered in crimson blood. She could feel it staining her face and hands.

Another pain. She could see the frail body of the silver-haired girl laying motionless on the floor alongside her parents.

Yet another. She could remember the father of the girl leaning over her with a needle.

A final pain.

“I’m sorry, Vesper. I wish there was another way.”

‘Ah…I remember now…’

‘Shimizu…trying to…save me…’


‘I…I did it…Dad…no more…’

In the stillness of the prison cell, Lilith Vesper let out a muffled laugh.

Mango Gravy
Mango Gravy
10 months ago

by Mango Gravy

Silence fell. Even the rain and the thrum of the city paused, time dilating, seconds stretched thin. The air itself seemed to gelatinise, trapping sound and motion as if the world itself was suspended in a colloid of anticipation.

Azure needed no sound to know what they all felt. Their anger was bright in their eyes. Her friends and family all stood before her, lifelong companions transformed by her own actions into a council of hate, their judgement already cast.

Only the man on the podium moved, but viscid as the world had become it was with a slow, deliberate momentum. He sucked in a deep breath and drew back as if he was gathering all the energy in the room into himself, his eyes growing brighter as he inflated. He hung for a transient eternity before he thrust an accusatory finger in her direction and howled.

“SINNER,” he cried, his voice rang off the ceiling and walls, and the world unfroze. A train rumbled past. Cars splashed on the wet road. Shutters rattled. The rain renewed itself with a rabid fervour. A multitude of voices in the hall echoed the man’s cry with a harrowing harmony.

“SINNER,” they chanted, their voices filling Azure’s ears. With each echo the hall darkened, lit only by their wrathful stares, beams of light cutting through her very soul.

She had expected as much. Every logical fibre of her being had known they would hate her for what she had done. But a part of her had blinded itself to the writing on the wall. It knew only the love she had felt from these people. The bonds. She had known they would all crumble. But a part of her had hoped otherwise.

And it was that part of Azure that burst like a dam, and the agony of her condemnation came crashing down on her. She let out a keening wail as it brought her to her knees.

This family was everything she had ever had. Now she had nothing. She deserved nothing.

Last edited 10 months ago by Mango Gravy
10 months ago

WTF Is Up With That? (CoTD)
By Makokam

Kami glanced at the hulking pile of green goo known as Toxbane, unsure if he was staring at her again. It was always hard to tell what he was looking at, if he was looking at anything.

The lizard man across from her crouched on his chair, head twitching side to side. “So…if you’re a ninja…why do you dress in bright red?”

She turned her attention and answered, “My clan told me that my powers were too flashy, too loud-” She raised a hand, electricity arcing and crackling across her fingers. “-for me to ever be useful to them. So I said fuck it, left to prove them wrong, and wear bright red for extra spite.” She chuckled and sat back with a smirk. “They’re all dead now though.”

She looked over at the door as someone walked by. The new guy.

“Hey!” She called out. “Get in here newbie. We’re playing a game.”

He stopped and looked in silently for a moment. As he started to move on she yelled, “Even mister Stick-Up-My-Ass is playing,” gesturing at Eros.

The new guy turned then, and after a moment walked into the room. He pulled a chair over, stuffed his cigarette into a pocket, and adjusted his long coat as he sat down. “So what’s the game?”

Kami held up a die. “High roll asks a question. Low roll answers.”

“You got another?”

The lizard man tossed one his way.



“Right.” He looked around the table, “So, do we roll at once or-”

The other four rolled their dice.

“Six!” Kami cheered.




He rolled his die.


Kami grinned and leaned over the table. “The three of us,” she waved a finger at herself, Slaker, and Toxbane. “We were in prison together. We have long records. And Eros, well, he’s Keres’ lapdog. But you? You get brought in out of the blue at the same rank as us. Why?”

He leaned back in his chair and said, “I’m twenty years old, and I’ve killed over three times the population of this city.”

Last edited 10 months ago by Makokam
Iosef Paramonov
Iosef Paramonov
10 months ago

Last Supper for Two
by Iosef Paramonov

“My apologies for the delay, gentlemen,” said Wilson the head waiter, “There was a bit of a mix-up in the kitchen. Don’t worry, it’s all sorted and your meals are ready.”

The other two waiters, Pike and Frazer, set the dishes in front of the two guests.

In front of Count Maldents was placed a large, raw lump of meat, whose red juices oozed all over the plate.

“Bloody good choice!” exclaimed Pike to the Count.

“Language!” hissed Wilson.

The Count grinned at Pike, his canines lengthening as he did so. “Quite right,” he said, “Something I can get my teeth into!”

He bit into the meat and began to suck its contents.

Meanwhile, Frazer was serving the exceptionally hairy Baron Wolfgang. Before him was placed a juicy pink slice of salmon, along with a bright assortment of vegetables.

“Thanks!” barked the Baron, before gruesomely tearing into his meal, ignoring the greens.

Frazer turned to Wilson. “There’s something fishy about that one…” he whispered darkly.

Pike also turned to Wilson. “The other one seems a little batty to me!” he said.

There was a thud behind the waiters. The Count had collapsed to the floor, clutching his chest.

“Are you alright, Sir?” asked Wilson, as he and his colleagues picked him up.

“Nothing… just… heartburn…” gasped the Count, “From the… the…”

“From the steak, Sir?”

The Count looked at Wilson, his eyes wide with horror. “Steak?!” he cried, “You gave me a steak?!”

A sudden guttural coughing then grabbed the waiters’ attention. The Baron was clutching his throat, spluttering and choking desperately. A small object was hemmed up and onto his plate.

It was a scale. A silver scale.

The two guests began to convulse and writhe. Their skin turned black, and as they both gave one last wail of terror, they exploded in a shower of dust.

No one spoke. The three waiters gawked in shock at the messy scene. Then the silence was broken by Frazer hitting the table.

“Curse them!” he yelled, “Damned dine-and-dashers getting more tricky day by day!”

10 months ago

Magnum Opus
by Spawn of Faust

“HEUREKA!. My Magnum Opus is complete! It is done and never will be undone!” Squeel filled with joy permeated the slowly going morning at the Academy.

And yet, only answers that the Academician could hope for, were unarticulated groans of hungover students and murmurs from the colleagues that still waited for the caffeine to kick in.

I entered the room that belonged to the source of noise. “Hey Joe. What got you so fired up, that you had to announce it to everybody, before,” I took a look at my watch, “nine a.m.? I hope that you at least broke the universe.” I said as I leaned into the doorframe and slowly stirred my coffee.

Joe turned his head away from the gizmo that stood on his desk and looked me into the eyes with the manic gleam on his face.

“Morning, Randy, you can bet your ass that I did. You know about all of that pollution, that we get from keeping cities in the air, using the steam engines, right?”

I slowly nodded my head to let him know that I knew, what he was talking about.

“With this thing here, there is no more need for that. I did it, I solved it all.” Joe said while maniacally pointing at the rotating machine at his table.

I wanted to take a look at the machine but something stopped me. Something more powerful than my curiosity.

My sense for the unseen was of the scale as I felt the whole world shatter.

“Hold yourself!” I screamed, throwing away a cup of unfinished coffee as I grabbed hold of the doorframe.

As quickly as the magical shwabank came it faded away. Joe got himself up from underneath the table.

From underneath the table, where his new invention rested and which metallic wheel was slowly coming to a halt.

“Anyway, what did you say that you have done?” I asked while pointing at Joe’s, now stationary, invention.

Tears creeped into the Joe’s’ voice:

“But, but, but… My Magnum Opus. My perpetuum mobile.”

Last edited 10 months ago by Faustini
10 months ago

The Silent Song
By Vera

The wind was softly blowing through rustling leaves, birds chirping, greeting the first light of the morning. It was peaceful and silent. Except, it wasn’t.

In panic, Draco touched his ears, searching for the wax demanded by the law of the Silent Realm.

“Relax” his companion said. “I sent our guide to get us breakfast. We have several hours until they return.”

Commanded by a habit cultivated over several weeks, he looked around for his talking slate. Then he hesitated. The inhabitants of the Silent Realm are all deaf, their ears poked right after birth. The locals consider this ritual a necessity. Protection from a sound they fear. Visitors to this land are required to plug their ears, rendering them as deaf as the locals. They receive slates to write on, to allow them to still talk. While the locals have talking slates, too, they usually resort to hand gestures when talking among themselves.

With the wax inexplicably gone from Draco’s ears, he realised that he had no need for his slate.

“What have you done?” he asked. Did he fear of getting caught by the authorities? Or did a part of his mind fear the mysterious sound rumored to drive everyone to hear it crazy?

“Come on, we won’t get caught”

As if called by a jinx, the door opened to reveal their guide, a bag in his hand. He stepped to the nightstand to grab the talking slate lying there. His hand froze before reaching it, his eyes growing wide as he stared at the small pieces of wax. He looked at the two travellers assigned to his care, asking a panicked question.

With his limited knowledge, Draco tried his best to understand him.

“You do… no, did. What?”

This time, his cheery companion didn’t make a joke. Draco didn’t notice. He was listening. The wind was still blowing, the birds singing. There was something else, though. Something more.

A soft sound, a song without words or melody. Without realising, Draco’s hand moved to his knife.

After years of silence, my song will be heard once again.

10 months ago

Piercing Guilt (The Will) [CW: Allusions to Sexual Assault]
By Skeleton

He would have preferred being surrounded by one hundred enemies to this. He should have realized the mischievous look is Zaila’s eye when she asked him for a dance—the ever-shy girl wanting to dance at such a formal ball should have been evidence enough. Eymir had to give Zaila credit: she had always been gifted at ambushes.

And now the white claw in his hand, the C.R.E.S.T. upon her ivory arm, the dazzling dress swaying before him, and the blue eyes that bore down on his cornered form all terrified him.

“Is it really so terrible?” Remianna asked teasingly. “To dance with a pretty lady at an esteemed event? Or does it scare you to know most of the people in this room are actually here to kill us?”

No. Both facts were actually quite enjoyable—save for the crippling guilt ripping open his sternum and spewing forth over their feet.

“I haven’t seen you in two years, and you clam up as soon as you see me… It must be because you tried to kill me, right?” she pressed.

With one step, he flinched.

“Or was it because you forced yourself on me?” she continued.

With another, he bit his lip hard enough to draw his accursed blood. He knew there was a chance that she had been awake, pretending to be asleep so that he could believe she hadn’t seen his shame.

The dragoness shook her head in disapproval, but not disgust. “Do you really think it was the first time you did that to me?”

This wrenched the wretched man’s eyes to her, shock dilating them. Unbeknownst to Eymir, Remianna’s anxiety lessened a little at his revelation.

“You seem to forget that I knew what I was signing up for when I asked you to marry me. I knew what that thing inside you would try to do to me, and believe me; I know how to handle it. So never forget—” she swept his leg from under him and forced their dance to dip, leaning in and bringing her lips to his.

“I’ll always love you.”

10 months ago

Silver Tongue Tied, Three-Way Trip
by Aracnarquista

“Give me just one reason not to tear you to pieces.”

I’m livid with anger, and I am sure he can feel it. My anger – well, the anger of all my sisters – is a terrible thing to witness. All our emotions are, I’ve been told. Even then, I don’t think it has any effect on him. He is already lost. Nothing I could do would be worse than what he did himself.

“I have no real reason for you. Not one I’d find honest, and not one you would care about.”

Although he is filled with despair, I can’t help but appreciate the sound of his voice. There is a melody to it that borders on the supernatural – if he wanted, he could mollify stones. The thing is that he has already given up. Still, hearing his voice makes me give him some time.

My sisters are waiting for my move. They are eager, but they can still wait a bit longer.

“I still want to hear it. Not your excuses. Your reason. Not for me to spare you. The reason for what you did.”

He looks at the lyre in his hand and thinks better than singing. Perhaps, it is the only way he knows how to convey such reasoning. But he is clearly defeated. No song will be sung today.

“I was… unsure. Anxious. Nervous. The road was long, and my faith faltered.”

“Your faith faltered? You had escaped death’s grasp. You opened a precedent the gods themselves will have trouble dealing with. How come your faith faltered just then?”

As soon as I hear my own words, I understand what he is not telling.

“You didn’t lose your faith in you. You lost your faith in her. Is it right?”

As the sun starts to set on the horizon, his eyes can’t meet mine. His silence is heavy with shame and guilt. He avoids my gaze, looking back towards the Underworld’s entrance.


My voice is now bestial, mad. The frenzy takes me. “Sisters, let’s send him back. All the way back to Hades.”

Tamela Redfin
Tamela Redfin
10 months ago

In my Family Tree (Tales of Nora)

By Tamela Redfin

CW: Mentions of Assault

I had to confront Feldspar Augen. He would never win at this rate! “I’ll see you later, Glenn.”
“Take care, Nora.” Glenn smiled.

I left the mushroom alcove and Glenn and entered Augen’s office. “Augen, we need to talk.”

“Ja, we do.” He smirked. A chill ran down my spine. “I did some tests.”

Tests? I thought, tilting my head.

“Turns out Helen lied. Maxwell isn’t your father.”

“I know. Mom said that she couldn’t lie to me.” I nodded. “What’s new?”

“Ever wonder where you got your brains, Elenora? Because I know exactly where it came from.”

“Yeah my mom. I’m still mad at you for lying to me.” I placed my hands on my hips.

“Well time for the truth. The father you never met was me! Your mother didn’t want it, but I made her enjoy it.”

“You motherfucker!” I shouted in horror, trying to get a nice hit on him.

“Well, you aren’t wrong.” He winked.

Tears of anger streamed down my face. How dare he! I know my mother didn’t like him. There was no way she could have said yes.

“What? Not happy to be here? Elenora, I’m hurt.” He placed a hand on his heart… if he had one. “No matter! You’re mine and being so, I will.”

“No!” I cut it, kicking him. I had to find my mom and I didn’t stop running until I was home. “Mom! Mom!”

A disheveled Aunt Cora looked at me. “Helen, Nora’s here.”

I explained to mom everything, from being tricked, to Glenn, and finally about Augen.

“Wait, Augen what?” Cora shouted, furious. “That’s it! I’m ending his funding. I can’t keep enabling him. Helen, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared you’d believe him.” Mom admitted.

“No, you’re my little sister. And that’s more important than a hot boyfriend. We need to find Grey Rose or wherever Henry is. It’s not too late to stop the madness.”

Last edited 10 months ago by Tamela Redfin
10 months ago

Yes: part 2

By Joe

“You did WHAT?!” shouted Foster.

I floated downward towards my friends face, and spoke with my low nasally gamer voice, “I. Pooped. On the president.”


“I don’t like what President Triden is doing. That’s all.”

“And now the FBI is after you!” Foster grabbed his head. “Oh my god! I’m an accomplice to the fecal assault of our Commander and Chief!”

“Worth it.”

There was a loud slam on the door.


The door flew off its hinges landing in front of us. Bright lights blinded us and the loud gunfire deafened us. I stood heroically between Foster and the bullets that threatened to end him. I fell to the ground. Foster screaming in my ears. It hurt so I told him, “Stop it!”

He looked at me surprised. “You’re…fine?!”

I looked down at myself. There wasn’t a scratch on me. “Oh, hey. Would you look at that. I’m fine.”

Apparently, I could absorb bullets unlike a regular mortal body would. So I sprang up and cried out. “Okay you dastardly brown-nosers. This is for your discriminatory acts! For MLK!”

I absorbed the screaming members of the FBI while I stared blankly into the wall, because it was taking a bit for all of them to stop moving. Once they were properly absorbed, I saw everything they knew.


“What? What the hell?!” yelled my perturbed Foster.

“They…they…they…They made plans to replace an entire loaf of bread with the end pieces! THE MONSTERS!”

Foster sat confused. “What?”

“All of these guys are psycopaths! One of them puts the milk in first! Another just eats the cookie parts of oreos! Then there’s this ASSHOLE who puts toilet paper on wrong!”

“Why is that a concern? There’s no wrong way…”

I grabbed Foster by his blasphemous collar. “Yes. There. Is.”

“Okay! Sorry!”

I released him.

Foster then spoke again. “So, uh, is the pooping a bird power too?”

“What? No! Pooping is already a human function dude!”

“Well, good to know. Just don’t go pooping on our car.”

“That’s racist.”

J. J. Peterson
J. J. Peterson
10 months ago

The Smoking Gun
J. J. Peterson

Trembling, I lower the smoking gun. The alley is dark and silent now that the flash of light and explosion of sound have died away. I quickly look left and right, then, grabbing the body by both shoulders, I drag it behind some trash cans. His briefcase has fallen open on the pavement in a pool of blood, and the contents have spilled out. Amid knots of dirty laundry and drugs, are a wad of hundred dollar bills.

I look through the briefcase to make sure there is nothing else of value there, then I pocket the bills and toss the briefcase, now blood soaked, in the trash. I exit the alley and start heading to the other side of town. As I walk, the proceeding events start to flood my thoughts.

Smoke drifts in front of my face, and in vain I try to wave it away. Ron has ordered us never to kill anyone, after all, murders bring the police, but never has one man carried so much money. Must have been drug money, but anyways, I don’t think Ron will be happy.

This infernal smoke is watering my eyes and confusing my thoughts. I can hear Ron’s exclamations of, “What did you do?!” when he hears of my deed, echoing with the wimpers of my victim in my head. They bounce around inside my skull, each pass growing louder. Soon, they reverberate like gunshots.

Finally, half blind and with a blazing headache I arrive at Ron’s place. I slip in quietly and find him at the kitchen table. A couple of other gang members are there as well. I hand him his gun, and his cut of the money silently, warry. He sees a bullet missing, and doesn’t blink an eye.

“I trust you took care of business?”

“Of course…”

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

I exit, as unnoticed as I arrived. It turns out I didn’t have to be worried about Ron’s disappointment, but now that he’s given the okay, all I can think is, “What did I do?”

Peter Q.A
Peter Q.A
10 months ago

Through the Window
By Peter Q.A

“You did what . . .?”

This echoed inside me.

‘I didn’t know, okay. I was . . . lost. Everyone is. If you think about it. Lost, I mean.’

I sat up. I ran my hands over my face, shaking the exhaustion off of it. I look at the red digits of my clock: 02:48 AM. It’s still pretty early. I sigh, then scratch my chin.


I got up. I walk towards the window, grabbing my lighter off the table. I paused. Looking around, I can’t seem to find my sticks.

‘Mental note. Buy death sticks later.’

Holding the lighter, I glance out of the window. It’s quiet down there. I see some movement amidst the darkness of the city.

‘Ants. Small. Insignificant.’

I snorted. I slammed my fist into the window. It didn’t give.

‘I’m weak.’

I toss the lighter at the far off wall. It made little to no sound. I let myself slide down to the floor. My eyes sting for a moment. My cheeks flush. Wetness streaks down towards my chin.

‘It’s gonna be okay. It’s okay. I’m fine.’

I sniff. I wipe my face again. I tilt my head back, I open my eyes, and I exhale deeply. I hit the back of my head on the window pane. It hurts.

I slowly stand. Nodding. Reassuring myself. That it’s all going to be fine. I put my hands on my waist and looked at the window again. It’s cracked. I shake my head.

‘I’m going to get through this.’

I smile and laugh a bit. I breathe heavily. I turn around and walk away from the window, just a few steps, not too far.

. . . go. . .

I stopped.

‘Was that a voice?’

. . . go through. . .

I look around. No one. I try to speak; I open my mouth, but another voice comes out.

“Go through the window, please.”

And with that, I run towards the window. Leaped into it, face first.

Now all I can think about is, ‘What did I do?’

10 months ago

The Nonafollimomentodragon (Frontier Universe)
By Alex Nightingale (aka Spectre)

Lily sat in her semi-darkened room, admiring the construct before her. If she had to describe it, she’d call it some kind of nine-sided apple with wings, made of bronze and the complex interplay of light and shadow. One of her shadowy tendrils uncoiled from her back, scratching that hard-to-reach place between her shoulders, while her hands were busy enabling her to eat.

The door opened, sending in a wave of light. Lily squinted, as a figure in a long duster walked in.

“Hey, Adrian,” she greeted her cousin.

“Lily,” he greeted her back. “I was in the area and just wanted to check up on you.”

“You’ve come at just the right time. Look at what I made.”

Adrian followed Lily’s outstretched hand.

“I’ve made a Nonafollimomentodragon,” she explained.

“A… what now?”

“I’ll explain, when I figure out what it is myself. Don’t pick it up with your hands or telekinetically. It… might stop being a Nonafollimomentodragon, if you do.”

“You mean, it’ll break?”

Lily just shrugged.

Adrian walked up close to the structure, but kept his hands in his pockets. He examined it from all sides, trying to come up with an explanation for what he was looking at.

“Is this… some kind of pineapple bird?”

Lily shrugged again.

“How did you make this?” Adrian asked.

“A mouse told me.”

“Wait… really?”

“No, idiot,” Lily chuckled. “I sculpted it, obviously.”

Adrian joined in Lily’s chuckle and went back to the pineapple bird, which from behind looked more like an open, sideways maw.

“Locke came by earlier,” Lily said, tearing Adrian out of his reverie.

“Did he now? What did he want?”

“Just the usual. And asked about the Nonafollimomentodragon.”

Adrian fell silent. Lily cocked her head to one side, studying him.

“Locke troubles you?” she asked.

“A little… I’m not sure about him.”

“I am. He’s a man who sees a problem and tries to fix it the only way he knows how.”

“Did you just explain Locke in one sentence?”

“We do what we can,” Lily grinned.

She was glad Adrian had come. She’d missed her cousin.

10 months ago

Testing Nerves

I had never done something like this before. Clutching the paper in my hands, I walked into the house, each step of the porch feeling like a mountain with how many nerves were firing off in my legs. The doorknob even tried to freeze my fingers despite the early September warmth.

Thoughts furled in my head. All the times I had been called a failure, every time I was told I would amount to nothing, every time the voice in my head told me I had no future, so why even try to have one. Even the times I almost gave in to that voice rushed back to my mind. But I overcame those hurdles, and had the scars to prove it.

The paper I held on my hand had even tried to add to those scars, but paper cuts were nothing in comparison to what it said. The power held on that page was more than enough to break through all those years of falling behind the curve, even if I had started on top when I began. This was proof that I didn’t have to stay at the bottom.

I walked into the kitchen. Dad was brooding over his fifth cup of coffee, judging by how much was left in the coffee pot on the counter, and Mom was washing some vegetables while listening to the news. I laid the paper on the table, right in front of Dad. He glanced at it, and his face turned up to look me in the eyes.

“When did you-” but I was too excited to let him finish.

“I did it,” I said. “I got the scholarship.” It took everything in me to not jump for joy right then and there.

Mom turned down the television. Dad stood up, walked around the table, and placed his hand on my shoulder.

“I’m proud of you, son,” he said.

And all the voices that said I couldn’t do it melted away.

Last edited 10 months ago by WriterOfThought
10 months ago

Not authorized.

by Galer

“so, Amelia what was the thing you made in the lab?” Tomas Torres a resident soul was interrogating her after the incident that happened in one of the laboratories in Sheol “because went I was running the only thing I remember was screaming, screeching sounds, and everyone freaking out”

They stayed in silence for a second however for Amelia it was agonizingly long this extended to one minute until Torres said with impatience leaking through his voice “no seriously I am asking what did you do?”

Her cheeks flushed with crimson color and so were her wings behind her, putting her hands on her face and curling her tail around her leg she mumbled “…. ”

“Can you say it higher?” The soul asked ” look I know you feel ashamed and they can potentially kick us out, depending on what you did…just tell me what happened and we can be done with the day”

“I may have done an unauthorized genetic, magitech experiment with radiation creating a living portal to another dimension,” The mad devil woman said with a forced smile” luckily Dany is harmless, although I think the gravity anomalies and the sensation of tasting space-time in your tongue cant be good for you”

Torres just looked at her as if she has grown a second head “You did What?!”

“I meant it wasnt at all like the time I made a Clone of that bear trap crocodile primordial goddess,” Amalia said weakly defending Herself” you can not blame me for that, Manuella mostly ate livestock!”

“That is that! this is this! How the fuck do you manage to do that!” Torres freaked out ” also radiation? where did you get uranium? we don’t even have that here we are genetic labs for crying out loud!”

“Well I synthesized it…in my house, I have protective gear ok? I am mad, not suicidal!” Amalia said as if this was normal

“God give me strength,” Torres said, he was dead already, but he felt he was going to die a second time, because of her shenanigans.

Last edited 10 months ago by Galer
Lee Strangely
Lee Strangely
10 months ago

Shiloh (Life of Madness)
by Lee Strangely

In that cold room the eyes weighed heavy upon him as he hid behind his notecards. It was currently Shiloh’s turn to deliver his report to the class, who were obliged to watch. The walls were plastered with colorful posters that had no purpose to the students (hostages) forced to be there, except to annoy them.

“L-l-little was known about,” Shiloh stammered, “about his life up until then. The gunslinger was only known as Grint, by the locals… He…”

In a fleeting moment of courage, he looked up at his audience. Some classmates hardly paid attention, others didn’t at all. He wasn’t looking at them. Unlike everyone else, he had one more audience member. In the back, the gentleman’s ethereal blue glow and rugged attire stuck out considerably. In front of the window, the sun’s rays burned through his thoroughly perforated chest. Even with the silver dollars over his eyes, Shiloh knew he was looking at him, the only person to notice him.

“Shiloh?” the old teacher asked.

“S-sorry,” he looked at his notecards, then to the man in the back, “He… He was brutally gunned down in Telluride after being hunted down by the corrupt sheriff-”

“Shiloh?” the teacher interrupted, “Did you do any research?”

Light giggles fluttered around the classroom.

“Yes I…”

“Then where’d you get this from? If you bothered reading your textbook, it says that Grint was wanted for killing a deputy and died in a fire.”

“He didn’t…”

The teacher grew more irritated, “There are confirmed firsthand accounts that state…”

“They’re wrong!”

“And how would you know that?” the old teacher snapped.

The air was empty as Shiloh glanced at the gentleman again before looking to the floor.

“Well?” the teacher asked.

Shiloh mumbled, “He t-…”


“He told me!”

Most of the class started snickering before the teacher bellowed out, “Quiet!”

An enthusiastic girl from the back raised her hand, “What was he like? How did he look?”

“Maddy don’t encourage him,” he scowled, “Shiloh, go to the office.”

Tearful, Shiloh left.

The gentleman tipped his hat as he faded into the walls.

10 months ago

Something Out of an Opera (Chatterboxes III)
By Taja DaLeen

“You did what?!”

“Uh, well…”

“God damn you, Paul! If I could strangle you right now, I would!”

“I… am sorry?”

“How the hell did you even make it?!”

“I… honestly have no idea? I just felt inspired, and suddenly it started to speak to me.”

“… so. Let me get this straight. You made a statue of one of our seven High Demon Lords that somehow ended up enchanted without you doing anything? But now Mamona can speak to you through that thing? What the hell? Also, now we got kidnapped by some weird cult that obviously worships her, somehow heard about that statue existing, and now they want it.”

“… yes?”

“Oh, great! So, how about we just, I don’t know, give it to them?! So they’ll let us go, I don’t have to explain to Sara where I’ve been for freaking days, and everyone’s happy. Sounds good?”

“No. Can’t do that. Even if I’m sorry about Sara…”

“What?! What do you mean you can’t? It’s just a statue! Geez, better pray that it takes a while ’til I’m untied, or I will friggin’ kill you!”

“But, Mamona herself said so… sorry…”

“Wonderful! Just awesome! So, the High Demon Lord of Metal herself doesn’t want her statue to fall into the hands of those lunatics? Did she perchance say why?”

“Uh, I think she mentioned something about the boss of that cult being head over heels for her? Not too sure, but if I remember correctly, she said he was a creep, and stalking her…”

“… you’re not serious, are you? So, you mean to tell me that we’re tied up here, in the clutches of a Mamona cult with a batshit insane leader, because of something that sounds like the plot of a really bad soap opera?”

“Erm, yes? Apparently?”

“… I wanna sue whoever wrote this. Frick my life.”

10 months ago

And Then He Starts Monologuing
By Marx (Overly Familiar: Apocalypse #4)

“W… what do you mean you killed Bob?” Shayna asked, watching Matt in horror as he continued to look up, seemingly lost in thought.

“I’m not sure of a clearer way to put it. Summoned my scythe. Cut off his head. He be dead.”

Shayna’s face contorted into a blend of confusion and betrayal. “Did he… attack you?”

“Nah, he was mid-monologue. For the creator of all existence, he really loved the sound of his own voice.”

Shayna took a deep breath. “Matt… why did you kill him?”

“It’s what I was always fated to do.”

“You’re Death’s horseman. You’re fated to destroy all of everything. Don’t you think killing the creator of our universe is an irreversible step in that direction?”

“Exactly,” Matt answered, before pausing as he realized Shayna was in the process of pointing her crossbow at him. He turned his black and white gaze towards her as the weapon faded to nothing. “Easy now… Death decreed that anyone who attempts to kill me will face her wrath. Attempt is the key word here. Take a seat.”

“I knew it…” Shayna grumbled, her eyes welling up as she begrudgingly sat down. “I fucking knew it. As soon as I saw those freaky Death eyes, I knew you’d snapped. This was too much power, even for you…”

Matt smiled warmly despite the attempted attack. “Shayna, hear me out.”

“Dude… you killed GOD! No matter what stupid name he wanted to go by, that’s what you did!”

“Fair point,” Matt began with a chuckle. “But here’s the thing. I’m not crazy.”

“As all sane people have to say…”

Matt continued to smile. “I just… see things clearly now. Everything I did to stop the apocalypse only lead us closer to it. Even when I stepped back and did nothing.”

“So, you’re giving up,” Shayna sobbed. “You’re just gonna kill us all and be done with it?”

“Not quite,” Matt’s eyes glowed ominously. “You see… I can’t stop the apocalypse. I never could. But now I get to choose what form it takes. And therein… lies a loophole.”

10 months ago

Knocked out
By Venji .A

I take a sip of coffee before speaking.

” Now we’re in some hot waters, we have broken some law’s with the Keter mobs and now that might start a war” I say looking at my father and brother Jack.

“Yeah especially the Golden Dawn’s, those maniacs are out for blood” my brother says 

I turn and look at my father asking “Any plane’s?” He looks at me with a relaxed face

“We are now at equal footing, since we have Daved with the fruit’s power’s and all of use being considered national weapon or above in power”

He then uses magic to create a window showing a man outside our building ” so our best bet is to sort things out with them”

I look with a surprised face “You invited one here!” My brother yells out in shock.

” Calm, Jack” I say in a low but firm tone “we can at least talk to them and see to fix our relations with them” I say.

“Alright I stay calm but pops tell us when you do this type of thing”

Father looks at him with a grin ” Sorry kid ,I just forget” as he cockles 

Jack then grins ” Yeah I’m not prepared to put on the charm”

“You charm? A shit throwing monkey has more charm than you” I say mocking him and laughing

The Door to the room then opened and Daved comes in, he look exited with blood on his hand “Oi guys I had some  fun today”

” really ,why so” father asked

“Cuz this spoiled bastard was insulting me and so I went up to him and I punched the bastard square in the face” he punches his hand in a show ” I knocked the fool out cold and teeth and blood when flying everywhere

We all laughed at his story and Jack asked “where did this happen?” 

“Outside the building, he was waiting there for some reason ” 

I kept laughing until I realised what he said “Wait, you DID WHAT!”.

Last edited 10 months ago by VENJI THE VOID
C. M. Weller
10 months ago

Never, in the Field of Nation’s Conflict (A Devil’s Tale)
C. M. Weller

Fifty thousand troops lined up on the battlefield, just as the note threatened. The commander had chosen a place far from the floodplain south of Rauchle, where they could have been washed away by the collected waters of the canals. In that, alone, he was smart.

Sending a ransom note and demand of surrender to a student of the Way of Shadows, however, was a mistake.

Kosh held the rally banner, and checked the Barons by his side. Pleased to see a very nervous Tansie shaking in his shining armour. All of Tansie’s very PRETTY and ceremonial soldiers were also nervously present on the field. Now that he had his wall, he had no excuses.

Even with his troops, Whitekeep was ludicrously outnumbered.

“Welcome to war, Tansie,” he said. “It’s what you’ve been howling for for years. Why aren’t you happy?” He knew the answer. It was because any man loved war when he didn’t have to fight in it.

His armour had been stretched, recently. “Merely anxious for the fates of my men, my lord.”

“This will be quick,” said Kosh, and spurred his horse into the middle of the field. Projected his voice to carry across the neat lines of soldiers. “Where is your leader?” he called. “Let him face me, leader to leader, so that no other blood be spilled!” It was an old formality of battle, but once issued, the challenge had to be met.

It could not be met, and Kosh knew it. Because he and Spitebane had infiltrated the Llarkh encampment with the help of Cordelia’s druidic powers and… DEALT with the chief problem. And also rescued Spitebane’s fiancee while they were there. It would have been very romantic, except it was also their introduction.

The commander could not appear, and Kosh trotted away with the rally banner of Llarkh’s impressive army. His by a technicality, though he would offer them a choice.

Tansie was boggling at him. “What in the name of the gods…?”

“It turns out I AM a cheating Teufel,” said Kosh.

10 months ago

A Painful Lesson (World of Shadows)

By Thunder

Sturgus knew something was wrong as soon as he pushed the door open and found his daughter quietly eating porridge at the table. The exhaustion left his body as he dropped the scythe next to the door. “Tia?” he asked as gently as he could manage.

“Hello, Papa,” she answered without meeting his eyes.

“Have a good day?”

“I did.”

Sturgus narrowed his eyes. “Did you bring home anymore ‘pets’?”

Tia pushed the bowl away and slid from her stool, heading toward her corner of the cramped house. Sturgus caught her by the arm first. “Tia?”

“I didn’t!” she complained.

“Did you bring a new animal back to the village?” Sturgus demanded, tightening his grip a little more than intended. Tia still didn’t meet his eye.

“Where is it?” Sturgus growled.

“…Barn,” Tia admitted.

Sturgus nodded, relaxing his grip slightly, pulling Tia with him as he headed for the door, pausing only to collect his spear from next to the scythe.

Minutes later, Tia sullenly waited behind her father as he conversed with the rest of the village’s militia before the great stone barn built on the edge of the village. The few that bothered to acknowledge her did so only to glare or make the sign of the Eye at her.

March Fisher finally arrived, his battered armor rattling as he hefted the mace of his office. “Sturgus,” he greeted after forcing his way through the crowd. “What is it this time?”

“She wouldn’t say,” Sturgus grumbled, forcing Tia to stand in front of him. She shrank away from the Guardian as he glared down at her.

“I don’t know,” she complained. March just grunted and ordered the militia to form a line. Tia held back, unwilling to watch another of her friends be killed but more unwilling to leave her father.

The doors slid open, and March gave a single curse before being engulfed. A jiggling wall of near-liquid rolled over him completely, the militiamen shouting and scrambling back as the slime exited the barn.

Tia could only stare in disbelief; it hadn’t been so big before.