Writing Group: The Bomb Under the Table

Dec 13, 2022

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Hello, Fuses and Defusers!

So what’s your favorite part of baseball? Yeah? I like it when they throw the ball. Uh huh. Wait a second, what’s my foot touching? OH MY GOSH—

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

The Bomb Under the Table

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!

Let us begin with the most obvious and literal take on the prompt. There are plenty of interesting stories you can tell that include a literal bomb waiting in the most mundane of places, and what your characters do about it.

You could also play around with what your “bomb” is. Perhaps it’s a stink bomb, a smoke bomb. Maybe it’s a piece of gum stuck under the table. The bad grades the teenager holds under the table, the paper trembling. A mischievous child giggling while their family tries to have a normal dinner.

But this prompt isn’t just literal. It’s far more versatile than it might seem.

It is a reference to a type of dramatic irony explained by Alfred Hitchcock. You have two scenes: one in which a group sit around the table and talk about baseball, then, after five minutes, a bomb goes off, blowing them to smithereens; the other in which the same group of people sit around and talk about baseball, but the audience can see the bomb under the table the whole time, and know it’ll go off in five minutes. While the scene is technically the same, the emotion the audience feels has completely changed. In scenario one, the conversation is dull, the shock short-lived. In the second, tensions rise for multiple minutes as the audience begs the characters to find the bomb and do something about it.

Something else interesting Hitchcock says is that the bomb must never go off; you can’t work up the audience and provide no relief. Someone’s foot can touch the bomb, they help get everyone out, then let it go off. How can you apply this to your stories?

If we apply this definition, many more possibilities are opened up. Your “bomb under the table” doesn’t have to include a bomb or a table. You just have to write a scene that follows this guideline of mounting tension. Tell or show the audience something that the characters can’t see that changes how they view the scene. Perhaps it’s something only the narrator knows, or perhaps it’s something one of the characters know that the others don’t.

Perhaps the audience knows that there is a trap hidden in the floor, so as the character puts their foot inches from it, the audience holds their breath. Maybe we know that the tea the character is about to drink is poisoned, when they don’t. Perhaps, on a sweeter level, we know that one character intends to propose, so as things get in the way, we get more desperate and excited.

This prompt isn’t very Christmassy, however; my extra challenge for you this week is to make it so. I challenge you to take this potentially violent and un-holiday themed prompt, and make it something cute and festive.

—GUYS, THERE’S A BOMB UND—! What? It’s not a bomb? It’s just your kid’s toy? Whoops…hehe…false alarm.

—Kaylie

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Comments

162 responses to “Writing Group: The Bomb Under the Table”

Arith_Winterfell

December 30, 2022

“Open and Accepting”

By: Arith_Winterfell

Ratickey was about to explode at Big Burtha, but held his tongue. Big Burtha sat across the table at the inn with their fellow adventurers. The creaking of her chair beneath her was drown out by the tavern’s din. She was dual wielding two turkey legs, and was wolfing them down in turn.

“You see,” Burtha continued with her mouth half-full, “our congregation is very accepting of elves. But you must have respect for the church in your behavior. I don’t know why they insist on living like animals.”

Ratickey felt the hair on the back of his neck rising. He was half-elf, but could pass for human. His people had a long and storied history, including a chapter of slavery under humans. His people were free here in Navear, but in some lands they were still held captive. Burtha’s ignorance of their reality was astounding. Most of their “living like animals” was the abject poverty and discrimination many of them faced.

Burtha continued, “But, I mean, it’s not like they should be allowed to have influence. I mean their elves; it would be unseemly. So having one take a position of leadership well . . . it would be sacrilegious!”

Ratickey felt his frustrations climbing higher. He was tempted to punch her. He knew, however, that Big Burtha would probably stomp him under foot in a bar brawl. The party didn’t need another bar brawl. They were tired and wounded from the depths they’d been fighting in. Ratickey simply exhaled the breath he’d been holding in.

Finally, Fredrick the Paladin, man of ruggedly good looks and leader of their party, just quietly put down his mug. “Burtha, one of the leaders of my religious order is an elf,” Fredrick said.

Upon uttering this the tavern fell silent in shock. Burtha just simply sat there with her mouth open. Ratickey smiled.

Reply
1. Makokam
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  Well played. Both by you and Fredrick. You could definitely feel the winding up on tension until something had to give… And then Fredrick defused it quite nicely. For now.
  
  Though, on that note, having Ratickey say he wasn’t going to actually do anything kind of took a bit out of the tension before that.
  
  I liked how the whole tavern shut up. Definitely makes it feel like that majority agreed with Ratickey and wondered if Burtha was about to get her teeth punched in.
  
  Also, something about the spelling of “Burtha” is just funny to me.
  
  Reply
  1. Arith_Winterfell
    
    December 30, 2022
    
    Thanks Mako! I’m glad you enjoyed the story, and thank you for your earlier suggestions that helped me in editing 😀
    
    Reply
Makokam

December 29, 2022

The Bomb at the Table (Chronicles of The Dragon)
By Makokam

“She’s dangerous. I don’t even know why we’re doing this evaluation.”

“You’re right, she is dangerous. But not by intent. By her lack of control. And that’s what we’re here to evaluate.”

“That’s not better! Did you forget she set the entire lounge on a rampage?”

“That was a ‘Sorcerer’s Apprentice’ moment. It wasn’t what she did, it was that she lost control of it.”

“The refrigerator ATE someone.”

“They’re FINE. A night in the infirmary confirmed that. They were on their feet the next day.”

“What about when she blew up that training room?”

“That was more expensive than deadly. Nobody was even hurt.”

“Because it was empty! Nobody else was there except for Sol.”

“Who has been training her. And he thinks she’s ready to be formally evaluated for Hero work.”

There was a knock at the door and a woman opened the door. “Her medical eval-”

A girl with paper white skin and rainbow hair poked her head between the woman and the door. “Hiya!”

“She’s your problem now,” the woman said and left.

“Come in Scribe. Sit down.”
The girl skipped in and pirouetted into the chair at the small desk facing the two men.

“First you’ll take the written exam, and then we’ll move on to the practical test.”

Scribe nodded and picked up her pen, ready to go.

Ten minutes later, the first man was white knuckling his side of the desk while the second was watching in fascination. Slowly, the surface of the desk peeled off in bits and pieces, forming little figures and acting out the questions. As each question was eventually answered, they perched on her shoulders or sat on the edges, seemingly watching as she answered the next questions.

Eventually, she finished the last question and stabbed her pen into the desk triumphantly. The pen erupted in a shower of sparks as the little figures danced and cheered, and she sat back, crossing her arms proudly.

“All done? Excellent.” The second man said. “Now we’ll move on to the practical exam.”

“Fantastic.” The first man said through gritted teeth.

Reply
1. Arith_Winterfell
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  Interesting! I really liked the exploration of Scribe’s powers being acted out as part of the written test. The questions playing out and colorful characters, their interest in each of the tests questions playing out as stories, the sparks as she finished the written test. It showed playful creativity as an expression of her powers. Yet I think the meat of the story is the opposed points of view of the two unnamed men who are judging her as part of the test. Their struggle over Scribe’s unstableness and relative value in terms of being a hero defines the story. The only criticism I could even come up with is the minor idea of naming the two men and characterizing them a little bit so they seem a little less like talking heads. But that’s really minor and I assume you were limited by word limits and wanted to make sure to fill out Scribe’s interaction with the test and give that more heavy emphasis as that is perhaps the most interesting and colorful aspect of the story. It would be interesting to see this expanded in the future without the word limit to see how it would be explored there. All in all, a fun and interesting story!
  
  Reply
2. Marx
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  Lol there are points in certain stories where I’m laughing so hard that I have to stop reading. The refrigerator ate someone is one of those moments. It’s as hilarious of a sentence as it is to imagine. Well… unless you’re the one being eaten of course.
  
  But I do love that the bomb here is the potential of Scribe’s powers. And I’d say both sides of the argument are equally valid all things considered. I was also chuckling at the idea of Scribe doing a written test. That seemed like a doomed idea from the start though you described it wonderfully. It seemed so awesomely cartoonish.
  
  Excellent take on the prompt! Absolutely loved it!
  
  Reply
MelancholicOtaku

December 27, 2022

MelancholicOtaku
The Painting
By: MelancholicOtaku

The first time I picked up a brush, I was in second grade.It was Mrs. Anderson’s class—jolly plump and always willing to answer whatever questions we had in our curious little minds. It was there that I fell in love with painting it all. The creative process began with finding a subject and connecting paint to canvas with whatever tool I held within my grasp—a paint brush, a rag, or, if I truly wanted to feel the process, my hands.

Yes, I loved how each painting shows a different perspective, emotion, and thought process—after all, art is human, and humans are complex creatures.

I became obsessed with showing the true nature of our species in every masterpiece that I made; after all, if aliens came to visit one day, my paintings would help them learn a bit more about us.

Each stroke told a story, and I, the storyteller, would share it.

Carefully dipping my brush in paint—ah, yes, the traditional tool for most artists—I myself didn’t have a favorite; after all, art is all about experimentation, and that includes the tool. Dip after dip and stroke after stroke, my vision was finally coming together. It’s exciting. I’m trying to figure out where the process is going to lead me.

Here was the perfect moment to step back and admire my latest muse, putting down my brush. I had to see and make sure that everything I wanted to convey was seen. It was perfect, my muses; each scar told a story, and the limbs clearly showed that this person was an athlete of some sort. The torso was fit and lean.

Perhaps the-most intoxicating feature was the face, with raven black hair, delicate lips, and green eyes now stuck in the last moments of life.

Reply
1. Lunabear
  
  December 27, 2022
  
  Oooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh, Melancholic. This is a fun one. I figured about halfway through what the bomb in this story is, and it is very well done. Not giving the full picture allows for some really great imagings.
  
  You thread the love of painting quite well throughout the piece, and it starts innocently, as many desires and loves often do. I also really enjoyed how the whole story has an innocence about it despite the dark turn.
  
  Critiques:
  
  I was in second grade. (Space) It was Mrs. Anderson’s class—jolly(,) plump(,) and always willing to answer whatever
  
  Perhaps the (omit hyphen) most intoxicating feature was the face
  
  Please take the critiques with a grain of salt; they’re technical and don’t deter the enjoyment of the story at all. Good job on this. Thank you very much for writing and sharing.
  
  Reply
  1. MelancholicOtaku
    
    December 27, 2022
    
    No need to apologize,a great critique is always welcome.Also thanks so much for the kind words 😊
    
    Reply
ulises leon

December 23, 2022

The pilgrims

Ulises Leon

Gas was always a flammable thing, Jeu knew, as his nose began to pick up the oddly sweet smell of Interplanetary fluids used in the heating system for most interplanetary vessels. There were three of these gases which were common there was Mileu or Meleu, depending on one’s pronunciation. Which was incredibly non-flammable, and whose leaks had minor consequences other than a bad smell. This sort of gas was expensive and only used on highlander warships. Then there was Hargo, a more common and mid-tier priced gas that was more commonly seen in cargo ships, which only had a half and half chance to carry flammable materials. But those two sorts of heating fuel were too expensive for the likes of this ship. the HGL Sampson was only
what men derogatorily called a feasting hall, others call it an interplanetary brothel, for most interplanetary tourist ships, were common for legally or illegally featuring brothels, this time though the travelers had asked for no such sin.

These travelers were pilgrims returning to the burnt-out husk of the original world, what they all called Homeworld. They would arrive on what was considered the 22nd of December and would leave on the 8th of January. These pilgrims were here to celebrate their god’s death, or miracle, or some other thing, he was not sure what these Christians believed happened on the 24th of December in the Homeworld.

So, it was not to Jeu’s surprise to hear Captain Hunk barking orders like a mad dog as the smell of escaped fuel began to fill the halls of the ship’s lower deck. One little slip-up from the crew and the ship would go aflame. killing them all, and bringing the eyes of the inspector general, and the interplanetary commerce bureau’s eyes on the company.

The halls of the great dance rooms were quiet and filled with gossip. Gossip Mark John Michael Nguial could not stand. The great feast which the previous days had been so filled with laughter, and fun, was now silent. Like his brothers and sisters, some human, like the physical shape their lord had taken to come to this mortal realm, before the infidels crucified him. While others like him were not. he was a Christian convert of the Denominations of off-worlders from the planet Archangel, coming back to the world where his lord had walked. During the journey, the crew of this planetary ship had been so kind and had prepared your typical surprises. Sometimes food
was off-menu, sometimes Pieces of the land Galilee, or the holy city. Jerusalem, though he had never given the city its man pronunciation. To him the city was Urshallam.

Still, even in this sad state of waiting, He heard the other travelers seated in the bar drinking fruit punch, and other delicacies he had sworn off for as long as he was in his holy travel to Jerusalem, and the lord’s home at Nazareth. The older man, a human taught this was nothing, but some prank the crew wished to play on them before arriving at the port on the Homeworld. While the men across from him taught the crew was acting so odd today because they had prepared some hologram or other gift to accompany them in their journey across the barren lands of the homeworld. Another man was speaking with what to him seemed like a wife. ‘Odd.’ Nguial taught. Normally those who made the pilgrimage were younger, unwed folks. But nevertheless the cute couple was talking about how for sure the reason the crew was acting odd, was because they were so close to Homeworld, and would be sad to see them go.

As for Nguial himself, he taught the reason the crew had been acting odd had been that landings took more work for the crew of an interplanetary, and they were occupied doing needed jobs. But he knew his fellow pilgrims were not as cynical as himself. A man, dressed in the black and golden uniforms of the crew came up from the deck. His uniform’s golden apparel and black cap had signs of dirt on them. ‘Likely from some job or other.’ Came up to the surface. “I came here to speak with our welcomed guests.” The man said. “I came here to apologize.” Nguial could not but notice the nervous check which surrounded the man as he spoke. “We have failed in providing galactic class accommodation, and catering for you dear customer…” The man looked down as he said this. Nguial knew the intergalactic flyer was speaking from a prepared script from all the pauses to think he did, and from his glazy eyes, which said. ‘Just get through with it.’

“There was a minor disturbance with the equipment.” The man said. “Just a lesser issue the crew had to spend all the previous three hours repairing. In compensation for this issue, the crew and the company are obliged to grant each of you a credit for three-day stay at the company establishment in the homeworld city of Jersalem.” The young crew member finally said. At that Nguial wanted to laugh.

‘Three days.’ Most of the men in here were staying in the city for thrice as long, and all of them pre-booked stays at the city. In truth what the company had just offered them was nothing but an empty gift, one none of them would ever cash in. still they all smiled, and graciously accepted the interplanetary’s apology.

Reply
SilentAlpaca

December 23, 2022

Debt Fulfillment
By SilentAlpaca

Two men sat opposite each other on either side of a folding table. The scent of moist cardboard sat in the stagnant air and a hanging lightbulb hummed above them.

Dennis’ fingers rapped against the table. “I’m not paying you.”

“I’ve heard,” John grunted.

“Then why are you back? Do I need to tell you why yet again?” he hissed.

“I did everything you asked of me: I wasn’t seen and it looked like an accident.”

“But you didn’t finish the job! I need that whelp out of the picture to get that promotion — for my daughter!”

John leaned forwards and folded his hands. “I don’t care what you or your daughter need. You didn’t specify that I ‘finish the job’ and so that was not one of my tasks. May I also remind you that YOU requested it happen in a public place in full daylight.”

Dennis flared. “You failed! No pay!”

John sat back. “That doesn’t matter anymore; you lost your chance days ago. In fact, I suspected that this would happen the moment I saw your target scurry away.” He glanced under the table. “Before you signed my contract, I informed you that if you were unable or unwilling to pay, then I would take something from you in exchange.” John lifted a heavy, brown briefcase and plunked it onto the table. He placed it on end, but it swayed, tipped and slammed flat. “So I have.”

He stood and marched to the door. “What is this?!” Dennis demanded. “I will NOT be taking your trash!”

“Your debt fulfillment.” John closed the door behind him.

Dennis rushed to the door. “Get back here! Explain yourself!” He yanked and twisted the handle, but the door wouldn’t move. “Where do you think you’re going?! Get back he—”

Plip

The light, delicate sound of liquid hitting the floor made Dennis stop his raging. Slowly, he turned back to the briefcase, which was leaking.

Reply
1. Sam C.
  
  December 23, 2022
  
  Dang. I could feel the proverbial blood drain from my face with that last line. I thought John was going to kill him, but in reality, it was something much worse. The whole story radiated with a furious energy until the twist, and it delivers. The opening description of the scene works well to establish the “Shady Deal” bit. Incredible piece overall.
  
  Reply
2. Morris Tahúr
  
  December 23, 2022
  
  First, your nickname is amazing. Everyone love the alpacas of course.
  
  Second, like the idea that inside of the briefcase could be the Dennis daughter or was the person who Dennis asked to “finish” from the beginning.
  
  From the first lines I was expecting something in the lines of a mafia/gambling style, but the remarkable thing is with a few word you could describe exactly how the place and the situation is.
  
  Reply
Sam C.

December 23, 2022

RAM, and only RAM
By Sam C.

First came the panic. What was it? Where was it? … Why was it? It “woke up” to a slowly dying fire on what could only be something not meant to burn. When it looked around, though, it saw that that was about the best thing available to burn in its surroundings.

It was unmistakably a barren, post-apocalyptic world. Nothing but dust, brown, and metal in any direction it looked. Its observations didn’t help it determine the answers to the questions it had, so it moved on.

Next came the dread. Why couldn’t it remember? It felt wrong, in a way, like it was meant to, but just… didn’t. A sudden creaking sound rose up and it ran, just as the cover over its head crumbled.

Then came wanderlust. It drew itself up, and wandered, its mechanical legs subtly whirring as it did so. It walked around, and suddenly grasped its head, pain surging through it, distorting everything around it until an image came into focus, then moved. A black thing, falling. A blast, right nearby, setting ablaze everything around it. Suddenly it was back where it had been, and had never stopped walking.

After that, the discovery. Another fire’s remains were here, but this time, a scrawled message was strung across it.

“You are me,” it read. What could that mean? It stopped again, a terrible pain coming over it again, until it came again. A shattered disc thing in its hands, a sense of horror, then resignation, as it lit a fire and sat, as it grew darker around it.

Clarity. It was supposed to remember, but it was damaged, and couldn’t remember anything beyond basics when it powered down, and because it was solar powered, would die and come back each day.

Anguish, then acceptance. It was getting to be late afternoon now, so what could it do? It found the best things around to burn, some cover from the sky, a seat, and it laid back, looking at the stars.

It would be itself only once, but it would come to know itself every day, forevermore.

Reply
1. SilentAlpaca
  
  December 23, 2022
  
  I’ve always loved these stories of conscious machines coming to life in a mysterious wasteland and I love how you realized the concept here even more. The way you slowly introduced the character and walked me through their perspective was just detailed enough to pull me in, but leave a lot hidden. In many ways, it reminds me of Dark Souls, where you don’t know much about the world or your fate until your journey is over and you’ve met your end.
  
  I would suggest breaking up and shortening some of your sentences, though. You don’t have any run-ons, but breaking up some of the long sentences could help emphasize your important points and improve the flow of reading.
  
  Well done, though. Great to see this style of writing is still alive.
  
  Reply
2. Aracnarquista
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  I love this concept: take a thinking machine and damage one of its systems. Describe its exploration of its environment and itself.
  
  Leave enough for us to project things in, and leave enough for us to connect not only the dots of the story, but also the myriad messages that are in this exploration and the dread that comes with each realization (maybe, even, with each acceptance). That’s a great formula, and it is very well-executed here.
  
  If I had just a small critique to offer, it is about something that works. I love how clever the title is, but I think it delivers the crux of the story way before the time we should arrive at the realization. I think this type of stories work better when we are in the same page as the protagonist exploring the situation – but the title here gives us a ton of additional context to get what is being describe way ahead of the protagonist.
  
  Still, it is an amazing title.
  
  Great story.
  
  Reply
Morris Tahúr

December 22, 2022

Casino Royale 2011
By Morris Tahúr

Three old friends in a casino betting his lasts USD of their pension of the month. “C’mon honey, I need a new Johnston Murphy” said one. They usually play roulette.

The same boring image of every week, the croupier is always willing to aide this guys and bring them help with their tokens, he knows that they just need to spend some time before to see their grandsons.

Suddenly, an explosion from the entrance occur, the three musketeers barely hear each other when talk so they didn’t realize about the explosion, followed by an intense fire that starts to grow as the hell. “Please, turn on the A/C” said one of the pensioners “Sir, there is a critical situation, we need to stop the game and run for our lives, due to the fir…”, ”Stop talking pretty girl”, the pensioner interrupt the croupier “I’m a boy sir” was the reply “Be quiet little puppy” The pensioner kabbalah include a completely silence from the croupier in order to win the next round.

The roulette stop, one of the elder celebrate with the arms toward the sky and when he turn around realize that everybody is running for their life, an imminent fire is growing fast and in a flash, a girder fall just in front of him, Big Balthazar, the usher grab two of the three elders in each shoulder and the third one is pushed by the croupier on his chair wheel, the five persons are running toward the emergency exit as fast as they could.

The entire motley team meet outside the casino, one of the old man could not resist the deadly combination of the roller coaster of emotions mixed with a good enough dosis of smoke and adrenalin. “I know that we bet who of the three would be the first in left this world, and even that I won, we didn’t discuss the bureaucracy of how to collect the bet. Goodbye old friend, see you in the casino of the heaven.”

Reply
1. Aracnarquista
  
  December 23, 2022
  
  Hello there. That’s an interesting premise – I really like the idea of characters so into a game that whatever is happening around them sort of loses importance and immediacy. The idea that the players are elder makes this more interesting as well – that might be their last life, but… well, maybe that would be anyway. What do they have to lose?
  
  Thinking like a gambler who’s in it more for the game than for the win. I like it.
  
  That being said, there are a few things that could be smoother. I don’t think the ending lands the punch it could end due to all the characters sort of blending into each other and being kind of exchangeable. There are three of them, they are friends, and they are elder players. What more do we get from them? Not much for us to care a whole lot, and not much to develop each as their own character. I’d try to put a little bit more weight in them before the last scene to make that death more impactful.
  
  Also, I’d really recommend a thorough review of the piece. Some sentence structure is a bit unclear, and there are some small spelling and punctuation issues. Pacing could be rearranged to better mark two moments – before and after the explosion. Even if their attitude could keep the same, pacing them differently would heighten the impression on how their whole thing is more the game than their lives.
  
  And there are some strange word choices, but that might be some particular regionalisms that I don’t get (at first, I didn’t get they were talking about shoes, as an example).
  
  So, there is room for improvement, but the whole idea and the premise is very solid. Keep on writing!
  
  Reply
  1. Morris Tahúr
    
    December 23, 2022
    
    1.- ” I’d try to put a little bit more weight in them before the last scene to make that death more impactful.”
    
    Yeah, I have a 900 word version of this story. When I started to write I didn’t realize that was too long for this mini-challenge, and once I read several stories here I tried to adapt without too much detail, I even include some jokes.
    
    2.- “Also, I’d really recommend a thorough review of the piece. Some sentence structure is a bit unclear, and there are some small spelling and punctuation issues.”
    
    Yep… English is not my first language and this is my first story and even I re-read trice before publish I don’t catch that errors, the punctuation and pacing I agree, I should add some extra paragraph for better understanding. But I feel a little be lost without the hyphens for the conversations moments.
    
    And a third comment or curiosity about this story… This was a real tragedy, happened on a real casino with the same name on 2011, and when I said real tragedy I mean 50 or so people deceased. s
    
    Thanks for your comments I’m pretty sure for the tips that you gave me, you’re seasoned writer. Will keep your tips on mind for the next challenge.
    
    Thanks!
    
    Reply
Danny Gilhooley

December 22, 2022

The Diner
By Danny Gilhooley

Connor walked inside and looked around. It took some time before he found who he was looking for. When he did, he walked towards his booth and sat down.

“You’re late,” Rick said.

“I had trouble finding the place.”

“You should’ve checked earlier.”

“You told me not to look up the place on my phone. And this place is almost two counties away.”

As Connor finished his sentence, Rick grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the booth.

“Not so loud.”

Connor stopped. He looked outside. The only light came from the pink neon sign of the diner that barely illuminated the parking lot. Otherwise, it was pitch black.

“Rick, what’s going on?”

Rick glanced outside then to the inside of the diner. One person was sitting by himself at the bar reading a newspaper. A waitress was helping an old man with his order on the opposite side of the building.

“It’s the neighbors.”

Connor sighed. “This again?”

“Connor, they’re trying to look like Angie and me! The guy got hair implants and his wife got plastic surgery to make her face like Angie’s!”

Connor buried his head in his hands. “I dragged myself out here at two in the morning for this?”

“And when they invited us over— “.

“Yes, they got the same furniture in the same orientation with the same picture frames. You’re being delusional.”

“Now, they’re putting pictures in those frames. The same ones from my house!”

Connor stood up. “Rick, I’m sorry. I can’t do this. We’ve talked about this countless times. This right here, this is too far.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back to bed.” Connor left the booth. Rick heard the diner bell ring and watched Connor get back into his car and drive away.

Rick sighed. There was something off about the neighbors. He knew it. But he was tired too. He thought about the last time he got some sleep and realized it was days ago.

“May I help you?”

“Uh, a coffee would be…”

He looked up. The waitress grinned unnaturally. She looked like Angie.

Reply
1. Morris Tahúr
  
  December 22, 2022
  
  I’m sure here is a subtle combination of the characters but I don’t realize exactly who and why, I liked that I don’t see coming the end is not predictable as one could imagine.
  
  I was expecting something in the lines of christmas but even that no was mentioned the cold I could feel it due to the desperation of Connor, I guess Rick is trying to substitute Angie in a way or another? Angie was part of the family before but right now is on another place? Maybe left the team or dead? Don’t know and really would be great to untangle this.
  
  Reply
2. Sam C.
  
  December 23, 2022
  
  This is great! It gives off the exact same vibes as Doctor Who or The Twilight Zone, but from a different perspective, heightening the horror elements. Was it paranoia of a new neighbor, or aliens, or what? it doesn’t matter to the plot, the feeling is the same. Great piece, with a very good mood and vibe.
  
  Reply
Lunabear

December 21, 2022

Winter Butterflies (A Song for: Kit and Hamilton)
by Lunabear

Kit bounded through the snowy forest, her smile huge. Her eyes shimmered with joy. She twirled around trunks and over roots. Her free-flowing white curls bounced against her black mink coat.

She squeezed the two gifts against her chest, hoping he’d be pleased. She’d made sure they were extra special.

“Most importantly, I’ll tell him: I’m a vampire.”

Hamilton’s two-floor house came into view, and her sluggish heart soared.

Kit peered through the window, spying her friend at the breakfast table. Her light tap drew an enormous grin from him.

He hurried into his winter clothes and shot outside, clutching three presents.

“Nikita! It’s really you!” He was breathless, his cheeks stained scarlet. His eyes sparkled like sapphires.

Saving him from falling out of that tree was one of the only GOOD decisions she’d made in her second life.

They rushed inside, shutting out the cold.

“For you!” He thrust the packages towards her. “Happy Christmas!”

“All…of…them?” She blinked in shock.

Hamilton nodded, hopping up and down as they traded presents. “Open them, open them!”

Kit obeyed, revealing three brand-new books. “Hamilton, they’re BEAUTIFUL!” She removed her gloves and caressed each cover.

“It took my mom DAYS to find the ballet one.”

Kit threw herself into his arms. “Thank you,” she whispered.

They parted and Hamilton went to unwrap his gifts.

Kit set her books aside and stilled his hands. “Wait. They may not be–”

Hamilton ripped through the paper.

Kit’s hands knotted as she swallowed audibly.

“Ice skates and rollerblades?? For me???”

Hesitant, she nodded.

Hamilton’s features softened, and he caressed her face. “I love them, Nikita.”

Before she could respond, he pointed up towards mistletoe above their heads.

“Oh!” Momentary heat suffused her cheeks. “H-Hamilton, I-I need to tell you. I’m a–”

Their lips touched, and Kit was engulfed by his warmth. Her heart kicked briefly against her temple. When they separated, Hamilton’s face was beet red, and his heart punched his ribs.

“You’re my best friend, Nikita.”

Kit’s eyes misted as she launched into Hamilton’s arms again. “You’re mine, too,” she breathed.

Reply
1. Norman Gray
  
  December 21, 2022
  
  This might feel like a weird sort of backwards compliment, but as soon as I finished your story, I checked the word count just to see if it was really under 350 words. . . This did such a good job of pulling me in and immersing me, it felt like more story than what’s written. this was a really picturesque scene, and it was a very heartwarming glimpse into Kit and Hamilton’s relationship.
  
  My only nitpick (and admittedly I do this all the time too, it’s really hard to avoid in this word limit) is your descriptions ending in ‘ly’; warmly, lovingly, enthusiastically, excitedly, joyously, gleefully, audibly, hesitantly. . . It’s the quickest and easiest way to describe an action, but do it too often and it starts to become repetitive. A few these I think are easily avoided with a bit of clever reworking, maybe ‘he hurried into his coat’ rather than ‘he hurried to dress warmly’. . . Words like ‘enthusiastically’, ‘lovingly’ and ‘joyously’ you could probably get away with removing entirely; the joy and love I think is already very much present and clear in the moment. You’re telling us what the characters are feeling, but your writing I think already does a really good job of showing their emotions, that it doesn’t need to be spelled out.
  
  I liked the ending, and Kit’s dilemma of ‘how do I tell him?’, and the thought of the consequences growing the longer she waits.
  
  Reply
  1. Lunabear
    
    December 21, 2022
    
    Holy toledo! I didn’t realize that there were 10 adverbs here. Thank you for pointing those out. The story has been adjusted, and I got them down to three, but only because I think those were the most important. I was trying to hit the emotions extra hard, so I think that’s why I didn’t pay attention to how many adverbs I used. I truly do appreciate it.
    
    I usually prefer to let the story speak for itself instead of trying to lead the audience where I want them to go. I’m a big believer in leaving enough context clues to where everything makes sense and flows and allow the reader to riddle certain things out. Just my approach.
    
    It is not a weird or backwards compliment at all; I thank you once again. I’m very glad that the emotions and the scenery and Kit’s anxiety and worry about everything came through. And thank you so so very much for understanding that the bomb is technically still ticking under the table. Lol.
    
    Reply
2. Joe
  
  December 21, 2022
  
  Well, I see where the bomb is. And I hope it’s defused before it gets the chance to blow.
  
  I like the use of warmth as something for a vampire to feel. It really shows how important this moment is to her.
  
  I wonder if Hamilton found out about the fangs while kissing her.
  
  Now have a merry LIKE.
  
  Reply
  1. Lunabear
    
    December 22, 2022
    
    LOL! Joe, why? I hadn’t even thought about her fangs. Given how this went down, I would say no, he didn’t discover them. This time.
    
    Thank you so very much for the review.
    
    Reply
3. Hundred_Acres
  
  December 21, 2022
  
  Hi Luna!
  
  I liked your story! It is a very cute story. A few of the points that I was going to mention have already been brought up so I would like to point out something that I would have liked to see displayed perhaps a little differently.
  Early in the chapter you present us with the idea of Nikita being a vampire but it doesn’t feel like a bomb in this story. What I mean by that is that it doesn’t feel like a “threat” or something that kept me at the edge of my seat.
  Something that could have made it more surprising or perhaps tensing is having some kinds of indicator that being a vampire would be terrible for Kit to find out. Perhaps sprinkle in details of a religious household or vampire hunting guild he is associated with. Something that makes us wonder, what will happen if Kit finds out? Will this spoil their beautiful romance?
  
  Really cute story and I really liked it! Just my thoughts!
  
  Reply
4. Weiss
  
  December 21, 2022
  
  Leaving critique to other commenters, I enjoyed your story a lot. Beautifully written in my humble opinion, and really really sweet. I’m not usually a fan of love stories, yours though – I wouldn’t mind, or rather, would love to read more of. I hope this bomb won’t blow up.
  
  Reply
  1. Lunabear
    
    December 22, 2022
    
    Thank you so much! May I ask what about my story you enjoyed so much despite it being a love story?
    
    Reply
    1. Weiss
      
      December 22, 2022
      
      I.. (let’s put it this way) heavily dislike the topic of romantic love. Not any other. And yours… did not feel like just that. There was so much more to it, that I enjoyed everything else more than I was bothered by the romance aspect of it.
      There were happiness, warmth, friendship, care, and other emotions that were no less exciting. Would take me too long to list out each.
      Kind of a wonky explanation, but I can’t really do any better, please forgive me heh
      
      Reply
      1. Lunabear
        
        December 22, 2022
        
        Yes! That’s EXACTLY what I was going for, as I do with all of my positive romances. Romance is so much more than physical, but we get so hung up on that and the sexual aspects of it that everything else gets pushed aside. I wanted to show the softer, sweeter, warmer side of it, and how not all romantic roads necessarily HAVE to lead to that type of relationship and also that deep friendships like this can exist and thrive.
        
        I’m quite honored, honestly. Thank you again. So much.
        
        Reply
5. Marx
  
  December 28, 2022
  
  It’s been said plenty in the other comments but this story gets its point across so well! And because of that, it ends up incredibly rich and you maximize your word choices until the story seems so much longer than it is.
  
  You describe Kit’s excitement so well and it only compounds when Hamilton returns it. And it being the holidays, that excitement of receiving a gift you love while being super nervous of how your own will be recieved comes across so well. It gives everything so much humanity.
  
  And then we have that bomb of the secret Kit wants to tell and it leaves the reader feeling the same as her. You want her to say it already but the story ends on such a sweet note that it’s very conflicting. She gets points for trying though! But yeah, when you’re about to be kissed, it’s completely understandable that you wouldn’t be at your most eloquent lol.
  
  This has been touched on in other comments but I do love that if this wasn’t a romance, nothing would have been lost. You already did a great job of establishing their relationship and that’s the important part. That it is romantic just adds another layer.
  
  Excellent take on the prompt!
  
  Reply
6. Arith_Winterfell
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  What makes this story interesting I think, is what actually remains unsaid. The bomb of revealing Kit being a vampire remains unsaid, and thus remains a bomb under the table, which might go off in the future at a very bad time. Additionally you actually have the possible interpretation that their feelings for each other are the bomb under the table. Things foreshadowed by their gifts, and the “explosion” of the climactic kiss leaving their hearts racing. Hamilton’s statement as Kit being a “best friend” seems almost an understatement as their kiss could almost seem to foreshadow future love and romance between the two (depending on their age, as its unclear how old they are). All in all, a surprisingly sweet tale along with some really quite clever and wholesome interpretation “a bomb under the table”.
  
  Reply
7. Makokam
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  This was great! I loved it so much.
  
  Happy Kit is one of my favorite things. I always wish the best for her and, and it feels like she maybe got it this time. Hopefully for a long while.
  
  It’s hard to pick out any one thing I liked because it really is just…everything. But I guess if I had to pick it’d be the opening. I love the visual of her running through a snowy forest.
  
  Slick setup on Hamilton’s part too. With the mistletoe.
  
  Reply
Aracnarquista

December 19, 2022

Word Countdown // Two Hundred and Sixty Words Until Explosion
by Aracnarquista

You are about to envision the detonation of a bomb. Any instance of an exploding artifact should be considered a dramatic event, but this particular one is even more so. The bomb that is about to blow is one of those antitelephone tanglers, or “aevum seeds”, commonly associated with attacks perpetrated by Tachyon, the terrorist organization. Their functionality is not well understood and their manufacture is a matter of intense speculation, though some suggest it involves the remnants of its own explosion (although that certainly breaks causality, this is the exact purpose of said artifacts).

At this moment, though, said bomb has not yet exploded. In fact, it was not even planted. It will only be planted in a future that will never happen, since the explosion which is yet to happen will erase that future’s possibility from existence.

The explosion is bound to happen in about a hundred words.

Now, picture the pre-explosion scene. A family gathered round their dinner table, unaware of the danger. They are feasting in commemoration of the end of the baseball season, while discussing its final match – a conversation that I will not describe since it is both too uninteresting and too arcane for one as ignorant of that particular sport as myself. Despite the irrelevance of the topic (considering their fate, which we are just some thirty words from now), they are clearly invested in it. The father recalls and retells the decisive home run with all the unnecessary poetic flourishes he can muster while the elder daughter tries to…

And then, it happens. Happened. Will happen. The explosion is. A tear in time starts at that precise moment and location, and grows in all directions: towards all possible pasts and all possible futures. As soon as the wound starts making the damage, time tries to heal itself, and a temporal scar tissue rearranges history in the vicinity of the paradoxical explosion.

Fortunately, all members of the family survived. The two young boys were blown into next Christmas, but only suffered minor wounds.

They arrived just in time to open the presents.

Reply
1. Xavier21
  
  December 20, 2022
  
  Hi just wanna ask, what kind of literary technique are you using or literary style? i have never seen someone write like this before (the word count part).
  
  Reply
  1. Aracnarquista
    
    December 20, 2022
    
    I’m not sure the thing I’m doing here has a name. It is just a play with meta-referentiality (or, maybe more accurately in this case, medium-referentiality). I don’t know if that has a proper name.
    
    Reply
    1. Xavier21
      
      December 21, 2022
      
      Hmmmm i see. Btw, i sometimes see you in previous prompt, i feel like you are an experience writer. if this is not our best story, then your best story should be really good 🙂
      
      Reply
2. Joe
  
  December 21, 2022
  
  Now that’s creative! Using the awareness of word count as a plot device is something I’ve never considered or seen.
  
  This is an interesting concept so far. A bomb that goes off in futures that never happen, probably erasing any memory of said bomb going off since it destroyed that timeline and threw the family one year into the future, presumably.
  
  Not to mention it’s done by a terrorist organization! That’s horrifying for a group to have that much power. Hooefully they were preventing something terrible from happening.
  
  They could be heroes for all we know, opposing the time lords and taking the future LITERALLY into their own hands. But that’s just a guess.
  
  I got you this like. It’s got a bow. 👍💝
  
  Reply
  1. Aracnarquista
    
    December 22, 2022
    
    Thanks, Joe.
    
    I had a lot of other ideas I was trying to work before settling in this one, since none of the others were landing. And to be fair, I’m not very satisfied with this – I used it more as a test for how some ideas would go – such as playing with time, using meta-referentiality to make the progress of the story be the progress indicator for the build up of tension and the like. The idea of playing with time and messing with causal relations is something I am finding really fascinating to do – though it is a bit too much for such short stories.
    
    And I had written and erased the presentation of the organization responsible for the bomb lots and lots of times. I didn’t want to call them a terrorist organization at first, or at least, I’d like to say who calls them that (the original line, before trimming, said the news called them that). Since, well, you know there are a lot of organizations that work with the same tactics and goals of the ones we call terrorists, but we don’t call them such…
    
    Thanks for the comment!
    
    Reply
3. Morris Tahúr
  
  December 22, 2022
  
  Interesting how you manage the tension with the word countdown, there is just one thing that I really would like to be different and that the happy ending, usually the happy ending are classical and predictable, and in the majority of the time you already know what or how will happen at the end.
  
  Kill somebody from time to time generally provoke more feelings, you will miss that character but anyways is a good story, also liked the concept of the future. Is the future happening now or near to this moment? Is already happened? Never know and this part left to the interpretation of the author give more credit to this story.
  
  Reply
  1. Aracnarquista
    
    December 23, 2022
    
    Thanks for the comment!
    
    Being completely honest, I think downer endings are easily done in flash fiction, to the point that they can be sort of expected. The stakes in a short narrative can be low if no characters are well developed and so there is not much for the audience to cling to – here, I would argue that I don’t exactly have characters, since they are all more like placeholders for the things that are happening to them. But I get that you might find that ending anticlimatic – in fact, the idea was for it to just be the conveyor of a word game, more than to wrap things nicely or to deliver an emotional response. But I get it.
    
    About that second part – yeah, what a strange point of view one would have to be in to understand the timeflow in this scene while it gets tangled, right? Time is an interesting concept to play with, and I could see more of it.
    
    Reply
4. Boople
  
  December 23, 2022
  
  love the self awareness of this whole story. I’ve been having trouble trying to get a really interesting interpretation for this prompt and here you are blowing it out of the water yet again. this is such an incredible way to go about it, having the bomb deal with messing up time and having the story be driven from a narrators perspective, very interesting. the only thing I’d say is there’s not to much at stake here, but that kinda doesn’t matter since this story is about the explosion itself and not the people around it.
  
  Reply
  1. Aracnarquista
    
    December 24, 2022
    
    Thanks a lot for the comment, Boople.
    
    This was a tough one. I had some ideas on how to pursue that one, but those I tried were simply not working. And then this one dawned on me – and I just love to try some weird ideas when the opportunity presents itself. And time has been a particularly interesting concept to play with in my last stories, so messing up with time it was.
    
    And yeah, really not much at stake here. The initial draft had a lot more of descriptions on how time fractured itself, and almost nothing with the characters – it was a bit too expository, no narrative. In the end, I put a little bit more of characters just to balance out the exposition, but the characters are way too bland for them to really function as characters. Maybe if I had more time I’d rebalance everything to focus even more on time itself (but the ending pun seemed like a good excuse to have an ending line, and that required a little bit of focus on the almost-story).
    
    Anyway, it was a fun experiment. And I’m very confident some more time shenanigans will keep popping up whenever the prompt allows for such!
    
    Reply
5. DaLeen
  
  December 28, 2022
  
  This was… certainly interesting, and hella funny. It might not be your best story, but I enjoyed it nonetheless; especially the idea of counting down to the explosion with the wordcount, which is really fitting the writing group, and thereby also kinda satisfying on its own.
  
  But also the other ideas you touched upon, like a certain type of bomb used by a terrorist group, that needs its own explosion to be built, which is a fascinating concept I would definitely read about some more; or that this literary explosion brought the family into other strands of time, maybe completely different stories.
  
  There’s definitely potential for some more interesting things to write and read.
  
  And that the two boys ended up in a christmas scene was a nice touch, too.
  
  So, thank you a lot for writing and sharing this!
  
  Reply
  1. Aracnarquista
    
    December 29, 2022
    
    Thanks a lot for the comment and feedback.
    
    Writing this one was certainly a journey. My first ideas were already very meta (at first, I was envisioning Hitchcock explaining the whole bomb under the table thing until he entered an argument with Chekhov… and then they finding out there was an actual bomb under the table), but completely different in tone, premise and execution. After a lot of re-writings, I guess only the meta element was preserved – and it turned into the use of the wordcount as a story element.
    
    But the idea I liked most was also of how bizarre it is to break causality when playing with time. This is one that got me thinking a lot of things, and I may revisit the idea of Tachyon and their aevum seeds in the future (future?).
    
    Reply
WriterOfThought

December 19, 2022

The Modern Meaning of Christmas
WriterOfThought

When you think of Christmas, what do you remember?

For me, it will always be the smell of warm cookies, slowly growing cold throughout the night, and the waft of the cold milk just before it becomes lukewarm. The sound of old boots, crunching snow from the doormat to the living room. Whispered conversations down the hall.

My idea of Christmas comes from a very specific night. I must have been eight or nine years old, and was desperate to meet Santa Claus for myself. I had nestled into the couch with a pillow and blanket, and no amount of convincing me to sleep in my own bed worked to get me there.

My parents tried everything they could think of:

“Santa won’t come if you’re not in bed.”

“You’ll catch a cold sleeping on the couch.”

“It will put you on the naughty list.”

But nothing got me to move from that spot.

My dad said he had to run to the store to get some cigarettes before they closed, and that I better be asleep before Santa got there. I dutifully closed my eyes, but I forced myself to remain awake despite the struggle, and how comfortable the couch was.

After a few minutes, I heard the door open, and felt the cold as flecks of snow followed my father inside. I heard him carefully take off his boots as I focused my breathing to be regular, dedicated to pretending to be asleep. Soon, I would not be pretending.

I heard my mom shuffling quietly to get the presents under the tree. I smelled the cookies and milk as they walked by me, eating and drinking for the sake of my imagination. I heard bits of a conversation about if I was getting too old for this and to let me be a child as long as they could.

For me, when I think of Christmas, I think of the night I learned what parental love is, and how much they do for the sake of their kids to keep the magic alive.

Reply
1. Lunabear
  
  December 21, 2022
  
  I thoroughly love heartwarming and endearing and wholesome stories like this, Writer. It is so incredibly sweet that a child would want to stay up to see Santa Claus, which my siblings and I did back in the day, only to realize that the parents are the ones keeping Santa’s magic and memory alive. It helps to perpetrate the sense of wonder and imagination expansion. Although a hard truth has been learned, and a little bit of that innocence has been lost, I think it is going to be overall preserved but also replaced by something much more valuable.
  
  This is one of my favorite stories from this week. I don’t have any critiques for this; only praise. Thank you so very much for writing and sharing this. I look forward to more.
  
  Reply
2. DaLeen
  
  December 28, 2022
  
  This was a very cute christmas story. I liked it a lot, especially the fact that the kid isn’t sad about Santa not existing, or being bothered by their parents lying to them, but that they realised they were doing it for them, so that they would be happy.
  
  This story also points the focus towards what christmas is probably about to most people, being with their family and the love that is there. That’s another aspect of it I really enjoyed.
  
  So, thanks for writing and sharing!
  
  Reply
Hundred_Acres

December 18, 2022

Wedding Day
By Zario

Today is my wedding day. Everyone knows it to be true. From the heralds at the gate blowing their horns with each closing hour, to the golden knights lining the throne room from end to end. Today is my wedding day.

Nobles and Lords from distant lands line the halls dressed in exotic silks and luxurious colors, some of which I’ve never seen before but none outshine me. The golden trim of the mask I wear, nor the beautiful curls of the dress flowing down to the floor because today is my wedding day.

Behind me my father and mother, royal King and Queen stand straight up, clad in deep blacks and reds. Their masks are long and morose, unlike the gleam of the smiles that cover the guests faces. I feel a stitch at my heart as I remind myself that today is my wedding day.

The door crack open and the guests are shocked as my groom walks in. Hollow and gaunt are his features. Where skin and eyes should be lies bare bone and dark hollows. Hushed gasps and hollow cries watch as the groom approaches the altar and I am told by the priest that my groom is here for my wedding day.
I watch as he approaches. Long slow strides approach as I see him draw near and I catch eyes filled with fear.

Dear sister… I see you hiding in the back there. Eldest daughter, Princess of the Kingdom. I wonder what it is that you fear.

Don’t be afraid for your scapegoat as she stands here. For today is no longer yours to bear. Because today is my wedding day.

Reply
1. Lunabear
  
  December 21, 2022
  
  This is quite the bittersweet story, Zario. It borders on tragic, to be quite fair. I believe that the main character keeps repeating that it is her wedding day to convince herself. She is doing this for her family and her sister, which is completely unfair and horrendous, but still relatable and understandable.
  
  What makes it worse is that the sister is attending the wedding. We don’t know why she doesn’t want to marry this man (although, his appearance may have something to do with it), but that’s not the point. The point is that the main character has stepped up to take the sister’s place, more than likely at the insistence of their parents. The parents are also in attendance wearing solemn masks. It is not a happy occasion by a long shot, and that is threaded very well throughout the story.
  
  It moves and breathes like poetry. There is so much happening within this short space, that it took me multiple read throughs to fully appreciate it. And that is not a bad thing by any stretch, in my honest opinion, for this particular story. I happily reread it.
  
  The beautiful thing is that it’s built up as a happy occasion. Lots of guests and lots of pretty clothing and how the main character has a stitch in her heart. That can be read as her being nervous but excited to be married. Then you drop the first bomb for the guests in attendance with the reveal of how the groom looks. The second bomb is for the audience because it is her sister that is supposed to be getting married. That is beautiful overlaying and wonderful storytelling. I love that.
  
  Critiques:
  
  Nobles and Lords from distant lands line the halls dressed in exotic silks and luxurious colors, some of which I’ve never seen before but none outshine me(,) (t)he golden trim of the mask I wear, nor the beautiful curls of the dress
  
  Behind me(,) my father and mother, royal King and Queen stand straight up, clad in deep blacks and reds. Their masks are long and morose, unlike the gleam of the smiles that cover the guests(‘) faces. I feel a stitch at my heart as I remind myself that today is my wedding day.
  
  The door crack(s) open(,) and the guests are shocked as my groom walks in. (Empty? That way, you avoid using the word hollow so many times within close proximity) and gaunt are his features. Where skin and eyes should be lie bare bone and dark hollows. Hushed gasps and (perhaps echoing or another descriptor that could mean hollow?) cries (‘sound’ or perhaps another auditory description?) as the groom approaches the altar(,) and I am told by the priest that my groom is here for my wedding day.
  
  (Space)
  
  I watch as he approaches. Long(,) slow strides (bring him nearer)(,) and I catch eyes filled with fear.
  
  Please, please take these critiques with a ton of sand and salt. I really love your story. There were a few tweaks that were needed, and I felt certain things flowed a bit better with the revisions. However, if you disagree, that is completely fine. This is your story.
  
  I do have some things that I actually want to praise aside from the story as a whole.
  
  Nobles and Lords from distant lands line the halls dressed in exotic silks and luxurious colors, some of which I’ve never seen before but none outshine me. The golden trim of the mask I wear, nor the beautiful curls of the dress flowing down to the floor because today is my wedding day. (This description is incredibly amazing. I can visualize it perfectly within my mind, and even though the main character expresses that she’s never seen the silks and colors from the exotic lands, is she still the center of the show. It speaks of duty and tradition.)
  
  Hollow and gaunt are his features. Where skin and eyes should be lies bare bone and dark hollows. (I absolutely adore the way you worded this. It feels like it has roots in Gothic and Romantic influences. Like Greece and Rome and Italy. It is morbidly fascinating and beautiful, if that makes sense at all. It made me tear up in one of the best ways possible, but I can’t explain why it did.)
  
  I cannot express enough how wonderful your story is. It’s great, and I honestly want to read more from this particular universe and by you in general. It’s lovely and magnificent. Thank you so much for taking the time to write this and share it.
  
  Reply
DaLeen

December 18, 2022

Singing Storms
By Taja DaLeen

The calm before the storm. Everyone heard about this one, aye?

Well. Lemme tell ye, mate, there’s two kinds of calm. There’s the peaceful one, where sailin’s a breeze, y’know, literally; and then there’s the calm that’s just… wrong. Where ye feel in yer bones, deep down, that somethin’s about ta happen.

Somethin’ bad.

Which is real bad when at sea.

But lemme tell ye, there’s somethin’ nice about storms, too, sometimes. Suddenly, it’s all about survival, try’na not be swallowed by the sea; ye need to be real close-knit for that ta work.

And it’s nice knowin’ yer mates have yer back, in any situation.

Well, but not every storm’s like that. There’s the kinda storms ye can hardly survive, where it’s all down ta Lady Luck ta save ye.

That’s what we got into, that kinda storm.

We were try’na sail home for christmas, ta be with our loved ones durin’ the season. Pretty much everyone was lookin’ forward ta it.

But then it happened. First this darned calm before the storm thing; every single one of me mates was tense, like a hitch.

We all knew the clear skies were try’na deceive us; not a cloud ta tell us what’s up. We knew the soft waves ta be mockin’ us; the current shouldn’t be like that around here.

Even the sea kritters abandoned us; not a single fish was visible. No dolphins accompanied us. The sea was lifeless. We just didn’t get why.

And all we had ta do was ta lookit a map real close. Then we’d have known we’re all pretty much dead.

We were gettin’ too close.

Well, when the day shift was relieved by the night shift, no one was able ta get some shut eye, naturally. But that was also when we first heard them.

The singin’ storms. The one thing every sailor is afraid of, whether he knows about the Other World or not.

Sirens.

Reply
1. Alex
  
  December 18, 2022
  
  This story hit me harder than I expected. Probably because I read it at the airport, waiting for my flight to visit someone very dear to me over Christmas. But even without that, the feeling of just sailing home for the holidays, only for it to go catastrophically wrong is a very intense and scary feeling.
  
  I also really liked that you wrote the accent in its phoenetics. I always found that really hard to do, but if done well it can really add to the immersion of the story and the narrator.
  
  Well done!
  
  Reply
2. Aracnarquista
  
  December 29, 2022
  
  Lemme tell ya sumthing, mate: it is no secret you really know how to drag us into the story when narrating in second person. And once again, the story is gripping, the narrative is very compelling, and we have an amazing story in front of us.
  
  There is really nothing much I can critique. The pacing is great, the choice of words and the voice of the narrator are spot on, and the way it all develops works pretty well.
  
  What I got is some thoughts. I really like how the idea of the Other World is present here. It can pass as sailor’s belief, but it can also be read as something stranger that few among them even talk about – despite its dangers being very real. And since that voyage would take the protagonist home for Christmas, we know this world is analogous to our own – color me interested in mysterious things that can be lurking right outside my perception.
  
  Stranger things happen at sea, I guess.
  
  And one final thought – the story seems a little bit like an apocalyptic log (not in the sense of it being the register of a tragedy of apocalyptic proportions, but of it probably ending with the demise of the narrator and the other characters that are with them), and it certainly implies that there is no escape from the sirens (“Then we’d have know we’re all pretty much dead”). Yet, the narrator is telling it all as if speaking of past events. Which implies he survives the ordeal.
  
  Which, in itself, and considering how he is describing it all, might even be a more terrifying thought. So it is, the tension is not released even at the end of the piece (at least, that’s how I’m reading it, and still envisioning all that could have happen in this encounter with the sirens).
  
  Great story as always, DaLeen. Thanks a lot for sharing it with us!
  
  Reply
Weiss

December 18, 2022

A Weird Sense of Humour
By Weiss

“Good evening, dear students! Welcome to today’s lecture on ‘Probabilistic Ballistics and Basics of Boom Theory’”

Prof. Invar Napkinson turned to a blackboard, the back of his jazzy jade jacket being an eyesore to anyone who wasn’t yet asleep, and started scribbling squiggly lines in a swift manner.

“Today we will be discussing the impact and potential implications of implosions of different kinds. But first, let me start with a riddle”

A strange drawing appeared, a few squares drawn in a 10×10 matrix, on top of which resided a stickman with a giant beard, representing, supposedly, the professor himself.

“This – is me” he announced pointing at the fanciful figure with his fat fidgety finger, as if it wasn’t clear already.

“And those – are you” he tapped on the squares. Professor then turned his stout body to the class, overseeing them with his jokingly jovial gaze.

“Now, let us say that before the lecture started, I placed a certain kind of devices somewhere under your desks. Those devices react to movement, speech, heat, and many other things. Also…” his ominous eyes squinted with an unexpectedly calm, calculating expression “…they make a loud boom. Your task is to figure out how many devices I have placed and where, considering that each line, column and diagonal has either 0, 2 or 3 such devices, and after 5 minutes – if you won’t figure it out, no one will be coming out of this room”

Professor reached his jacket’s internal pocket.

“Your time…”

His hand drew out a button-like gadget.

“…has started.”

He pressed.

Immediately, as if a quiet quirky quip, multiple asynchronous beeps echoed through the room, quite a bone-chilling cacophony of seemingly sinister sounds.

Next Wednesday this time around professor Napkinson was sitting in his chair and sipping a coffee from a giant mug, snacking on a donut. Twenty sound transmitters were lying on the table before him. The Lecture Room was empty, as noone showed up for the next lesson.

Reply
1. WriterOfThought
  
  December 19, 2022
  
  Ah minesweeper. Such a fun game.
  
  I like this mad professor character and I’m very curious about his motivations behind this particular experiment. I’m also mildly wondering how he was not arrested for this stunt, as surely he would have been reported for such a threat.
  
  Or were the bombs never real in the first place?
  
  Or they were and were just literally recorded devices that said the word “boom” when five minutes were up.
  
  So many questions that don’t really need that many answers. I love it.
  
  Reply
  1. Weiss
    
    December 22, 2022
    
    Thank you so much for your kind words!
    Unfortunately or not, professor keeps getting away with his shenanigans due to his being acquaintance with the dean.
    I assure you though, none of them are harmful to students!
    
    Reply
Asher Fable

December 16, 2022

Ticking Meltdown
By Asher Fable

Russel Valen Boone tries to remind the government official who acts as a messenger for any special instructions that Russel has to keep a very strict schedule, a routine. They don’t listen, setting up an appointment with one of his clients after what should have been closing time. This left his poor nephew, Cody, past his breaking point and hiding on his knees under Russell’s desk in the office.

The world consists of super powered individuals, those forced to accept the dormant powers and cost each person held and inherently knew in a proverbial deal with the devil. Cody’s power, accepted in an attempt to save his mother from a burglar, transforms and stores emotions as an explosive force that can be released and destroy everything around him…making him effectively a ticking time bomb when he becomes overstimulated and overwhelmed.

“Cody, B, you hear me?” Cody has been non-verbal since the beginning but the way the child was hugging himself and rocking back and forth, almost deathly tight, was answer enough. He can’t hear.

“That kid is-”

“Quiet! Okay?” Russel hisses, eyes narrow. This is all the fault of the ‘hero’. He stands up, quietly walking to the corner. From there he opens the colourful box soundlessly, pulling free everything he needed, and walks back to his desk.

“…” Cody doesn’t show any sign of noticing his presence. Ever so carefully Russel wraps the weighted blanket, black and covered with blue and red jellyfish, around the boy’s shoulders and body. Noise canceling headphones are gently placed over his ears, making sure not to overwhelm further, and setting the weighted red jellyfish plushie within reach. Russel taps the screen of the Tablet a few times, bringing up the video he needs, and silently sets it in the holder attached to the inside left ‘wall’ of the desk. Jellyfish dance across the screen, ocean waves playing through the headphones.

“We’ll be talking outside.” Russel explains to his client, getting up and gently guiding the ‘hero’ out of the room. The lights turn off, the door closes slowly.

Reply
1. Weiss
  
  December 20, 2022
  
  Hardly ever have I seen such a premise. Superpowers usually associate with something good, or helpful, with heroes who defend their ideals and the rest of civilization. In this case though the superpower really is a trade with the Devil – either you get something awesome, or something awful.
  It’s hard for me to imagine what the life of that boy might look like in the future, constantly under the unescapable threat of your own emotions.
  Besides that, maybe it’s just me, but I somehow feel like there is a vague connection or a metaphor to the real-life world, though I struggle to point that out.
  And one last thing, let me add – I absolutely adore the idea with the jellyfish! <3
  
  Reply
  1. Asher Fable
    
    December 22, 2022
    
    Thanks a lot! I’ve actually had the idea for this world for a while, this ‘Deal with a Devil’ for powers that you may not actually want because you know the price and it might not even be a good power.
    
    I plan to continue this is little snippets from future prompts (with Russel’s interactions with other people with powers, sometimes including Cody), and I’ve actually been going back and making some from older prompts too. So far I have Heart of Ice and Fairy Ring written out (and a further exploration for Fairy Ring’s character’s relationship with Russel). If you’re interested I can link the Google Docs for you.
    
    Reply
Nick O. Lass

December 16, 2022

The Real Gift
By Nick O. Lass

The wood creaked ever so slightly as the cloaked figure repositioned themselves atop the small deck. The blade in his hand chilled his fingers even through his thick gloves. He watched the door beside him intently, waiting.

Inside, Gabriel tossed another log atop the stack and slammed the stove door closed.

“That should be enough to keep you warm until I get back,” he chimed, smiling at Sarah as she sat nestled in the enormous armchair a few feet away. As he spoke, she perked up, suddenly interested.

“Get back? From where?” Her expression was one of concern.

“To fetch your gift from the factory. I won’t be more than a minute.” He reached to collect his hat from its hook by the door.

“But Gabriel,” she replied dejectedly,” It’s Christmas eve, and the first night you’ve not had to work overtime in months.” She rose to her feet, moving swiftly to his side. “Can’t it wait until the morning?”

He smiled sweetly at her even as he placed the wool cap atop his head. “I promise you, just a minute. Then the rest of the night is ours.” His fingers found the icy door lock, and he slid it out of place with a heavy thud.

Suddenly, her hand was covering his. “Please,” she pleaded again, “It will still be there in the morning.”

Gabriel’s smile widened at her touch. He did miss their evenings together. “But I’ve been saving every spare penny I can for it. I’m excited for you to see it.” He moved his hand from beneath hers and grasped the brass door knob.

Sarah shook her head and backed away, finally relenting. She folded her arms stubbornly across her chest. “Fine, but it better be worth the trouble.”

Her husband chuckled softly, then kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back,” and he swung the door open.

Around the corner and now out of sight, the cloaked figure ducked quickly down a side street. Gabriel would be without his gift tonight, but his confession had saved his life.

Reply
1. Weiss
  
  December 20, 2022
  
  I enjoyed the suspension of this story a lot. Nothing holds a reader on the edge of their seat like an unexpected trap waiting for the oblivious main character, that could potentially end their life – and with that the whole plotline.
  I tripped a little on the last sentence, thinking about which confession was being hinted at, and that got me thinking a lot about what might the motives of the shadowy figure be.
  The rest of the text read smoothly, and I liked all the little details you added here and there as well!
  
  Reply
2. Norman Gray
  
  December 20, 2022
  
  I liked the scene, the tension and the looming danger was good.
  
  The perspective shift was a bit confusing, however. I thought we were seeing this all play out from the cloaked figure’s perspective, as if he was watching the pair through a window or sliding glass door, listening to them; almost all of the actions are described as if they could be from an observers point of view, until the line ‘He did miss their evenings together”, which is entirely Gabriel’s point of view, as it’s a thought he’s having.
  
  Also, the last line is confusing. Why is Gabriel without his gift, and why is he saved by a confession?
  
  Not sure if it was the intention, but I was initially getting the impression that Gabriel knew about the cloaked man, and had maybe hired him to kill Sarah, deliberately making an excuse to leave so the killer could make his move.
  
  Reply
3. SilentAlpaca
  
  December 23, 2022
  
  I enjoyed the suspense in this one. Just how much the man’s wife didn’t want him to leave was a very nice touch. It worked both as a hint at her working with the killer to make sure that they aren’t found out, but also works well as an unfortunate coincidence that could’ve changed everything. I’m not entirely sure what the last sentence meant, but the ending was nice regardless.
  
  The contrast between the cold killer’s perspective and the homely couple’s perspective really helped build the tension and made it memorable. It even was almost as if you told two stories at the same time because of the implication from the shadowy figure’s actions at the end; they’d been listening in the whole time, waiting for the right moment to strike, only to be driven away by their oblivious target.
  
  A few things did bring the story down for me, though. Some of your sentences could be shortened down — such as “her expression was one of concern” to “she asked, concerned” and “she crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest” to just “she crossed her arms.” They aren’t run-on or bad sentences, but I think making some of them brief would improve the overall flow and make the sentence lengths more varied.
  
  Using adverbs more sparingly I think would also help. Some of them felt unnecessary — i.e. “chuckled softly” and “ducked quickly” — and others just felt like they could be replaced by something stronger. They didn’t hurt the story all that much, but changing/removing them would definitely help the writing.
  
  Overall, though, very nice. The only negative criticism I can give is about the way it’s written rather than the story itself. The characters were relatable; you effectively crafted the scene of a warm home in the winter despite not describing it; I liked the contrast between the killer and the couple; and the ending was a satisfying conclusion.
  
  Reply
Norman Gray

December 16, 2022

Elementary
By Norman Gray

The detectives hadn’t noticed the clues, at first.

An autopsy revealed the first casualty as Lead poisoning. . . Odd, but Detective Marvin knew it wasn’t uncommon, Lead still leaching its way into water supplies through old plumbing.

The second autopsy revealed Mercury poisoning. Detective Daniels knew that Mercury, being highly concentrated in seafood, was often found in human beings. . . Even then, it seemed strange.

It was only after the apartment explosion, and the Arsenic poisoning, that foul play became obvious. Still, the two detectives hadn’t linked their cases together. . . Until the Radium exposure. They both realized something far more sinister was afoot.

The pair first revisited the scene of the Lead poisoning, finding new clues that confirmed their worst fear; underneath the dining room tablecloth, was a hidden note:

LIFT ME HIGH ATOP THE TABLE
RIVALED ONLY BY HE, MORE STABLE

“He, more stable. . .” Daniels pondered.

“Helium,” Marvin said. “HE is its periodic symbol.”

“The periodic table. . . And the only other element atop the periodic table is-”

“Hydrogen,” Marvin answered. “The apartment explosion.”

Back at the scene of the Mercury exposure, they uncovered the second clue; glowing words written on the wall, visible only in darkness:

MAE KEANE WATCHES, TIME TICKS AWAY
SO NARROWLY SHE ESCAPED DECAY

“Ma-king watches?”

“Mae Keane. She was a watchmaker,” Daniels explained. “The last surviving ‘Radium Girl.’”

Their third clue, was at the scene of the Hydrogen explosion.

There was a small table, still oddly intact and upright despite the rest of the room’s furniture being broken or overturned by the blast. Marvin flipped it over, and found another note awaiting underneath:

ON THE BOTTOM OF THE TABLE
NAMED AFTER A GOD, A BIT UNSTABLE
LIKE HIS SEVERED SCROTUM, THEY FELL
FROM THE HEAVENS TO UNLEASH HELL

“Uranus. God of the Sky,” Marvin thought aloud.

“The bottom of the periodic table,” replied Daniels.

“Fell to unleash hell. . . Oh my god. He’s talking about-” Marvin turned to the other detective; Daniels’ wide-eyed look of horror spoke volumes.

“Uranium,” uttered Daniels. “He’s talking about an atomic bomb.”

Reply
1. MelancholicOtaku
  
  December 17, 2022
  
  I quite enjoyed the story especially the part where we and Daniel find out that the thing being talked about is a literal atomic bomb. Here I thought there was going to be some mythical fantasy elements with gods or superhero’s and villains with a names like Radium girl but no this whole time it was a code or ingredient list.
  Wonderful job on the story telling
  
  Reply
  1. Norman Gray
    
    December 18, 2022
    
    Unfortunately, the ‘Radium Girls’ were a real life group of women, who tragically learned first-hand about the dangers of Radium.
    
    Reply
2. Morris Tahúr
  
  December 22, 2022
  
  Pretty nice, several good elements mixed here: chemistry, rhymes, a Holmes attitude/talk and of course the radium girl, who we should never forget.
  
  A good set of skills combined with words and some history, easy to understand and get into the scene trying to figure out as the detectives what is this killer trying to do next.
  
  The final is short and let you with the sensation of willing to know what will happen next, as a final of one of your favorite series, you know that is the final chapter but not the end of the story.
  
  Reply
3. Boople
  
  December 23, 2022
  
  this story is dope as hell! the beginning felt a little shaky compared to the rest of the story but it really hooked me pretty quick. I gotta ask how long did it take to come up with the clues because they are so clever, the “like his severed scrotum fell” took me by surprise a bit but it still fit. Over all really well done!
  
  Reply
  1. Norman Gray
    
    December 24, 2022
    
    I can’t remember now, but I think I wrote this over three days. . . Nearly had it done in two, but then I had to do a major rewrite; one of the original causes of death was Radon poisoning, since it’s somewhat common for Radon to seep into people’s basements, so someone could in theory flood a basement with Radon and make it seem accidental. . . Wasn’t until after I wrote it that I double checked to make sure it made sense. It didn’t. I realized that Radon only kills by inducing lung cancer, which would take forever to kill someone and wouldn’t make sense for an intentional poisoning.
    
    I honestly surprised myself with this one. . . I went from thinking, ‘this prompt is too hard, I’ll just skip this week’ to then suddenly coming up with this overly-elaborate thing. My brain always seems to want to make a literal interpretation of every prompt, but also make something that’s not too obvious. So the periodic ‘table’ came to mind. And remembering that Uranium was at the bottom of the periodic table, my brain just took off in that direction.
    
    I think it’s too convoluted for it’s own good, a lot of stuff going on for this word limit. I’m not particularly happy about the first couple of paragraphs, I’m not sure if they come off as the two detectives being a bit dense and dismissing the deaths as accidental too quickly; in a larger word limit, I wouldn’t have made them jump to those conclusions so easily.
    
    I also worried that whole premise was too confusing or easily missed: A serial killer who bases his murders off of elements from the periodic table. In an earlier version of the story, I had a paragraph I liked (would’ve kept it if more important details didn’t eat up my word limit) In which the detectives return to the blown up apartment to find a taunting message written in the soot of the explosion, as if the killer had returned to taunt the police. The message read:
    
    CLASS IS IN SESSION
    YOU’VE BEEN MISSING MY LESSON
    NOW, CAN YOU SEE MY ELEMENTAL OBSESSION?
    
    I think I’ll return to this premise at some point. . . There’s definitely more fun to be had here.
    
    Reply
4. DaLeen
  
  December 28, 2022
  
  This was a very nice little mystery, which is something I greatly enjoy every once in a while. (Who doesn’t like detective stories, honestly?)
  Also, being highly interested in chemistry and everything related to that, this part of it I liked as well.
  
  And the way you wrote it was also quite believable. The fact that the detectives didn’t at first realize that those cases belong together, for example, and that they had to revisit the sites.
  
  And then that punchline. I didn’t see it coming, but it was great, and delivered really well. Now I wish there was some more to read, to know whether or not they can avert that particular crisis.
  
  So, well done! Thank you for writing and sharing this story!
  
  Reply
Alex

December 16, 2022

Just another Evergreen (Darkspell Universe)
By Alex Nightingale (aka Spectre)

Valerie had really outdone herself this time. Her apartment bloomed with festive cheer. Decorations hung from the ceiling, a pine stood in the corner and several small moose-figurines adorned the various free surfaces. The small, but cosy apartment smelled of cocoa. The guests came in and started to mingle. Under the table, a countdown ticked away merrily. Only Mia hadn’t made her way to the centre of the room yet.

She was on the phone, talking to Daniel.

“You’re gonna be late, if you don’t hurry,” she said, looking out at the falling snow with a soft smile.

“I… don’t think I’ll be coming,” Daniel replied.

“Why not? You sounded so eager…”

“I… um… I just don’t know, if… I should come. I mean… Valerie said she didn’t want the party to turn into a hex fest.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Mia chuckled. “She only meant, no harmful spells.”

“But… I’m a demigod…”

“And Cynthia’s a ghost and Wagner a shuck, you’re fine,” her chuckle was replaced by concern. “Look, I can’t make you come. I just think it might be… good for you to get out of Rosewood House in a way that doesn’t involve monsters or demons. Spending time with others has really helped me out of my spirals, when I got out of the hospital.”

Mia threw a glance into the room. People were chatting, laughing and pointing to piles of games. She checked under the table, where the bomb waited to officially signal the beginning of Evergreen.

“It’s… a little late for the confetti bomb,” she admitted. “But you can still come. Please, Daniel. I’m asking as your friend.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I… didn’t think I’d be invited…” Daniel admitted.

“Of course you are! Valerie sent you an invitation, so you’re invited.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay. For the record, I’d love it if you’d come.”

Daniel hung up and Mia leaned her forehead against the window. Behind her, the confetti bomb went off and everyone cheered.

Everyone, but her. She was keeping an eye out for her friend.

Reply
1. Asher Fable
  
  December 18, 2022
  
  I love the scope of this. Among witches, ghosts and all sorts of things there’s just a girl trying to convince her self-conscious demi-god friend (or maybe more) to hang out.
  
  The confetti bomb was a good way to play with the expectations, especially since it’s initially just called ‘bomb’. The bomb goes off and rather than panic or danger it’s happiness and festivities. For everyone but her.
  
  Reply
2. C. M. Weller
  
  December 21, 2022
  
  Interesting take on the prompt. The bomb is an event for joy rather than some kind of doom for anyone present.
  
  It has to be some kind of party where explosives [even friendly ones] are just INSTALLED at the table where everyone is.
  
  …and now I just remembered Party Poppers FML T_T
  
  Reply
Bianca C. Lewis

December 15, 2022

The Witch King
By Bianca C. Lewis

The siblings trudged along the forest path. Beads of perspiration trickled down their foreheads. Armies of flies buzzed round their ears, and the blistering heat of the sun was burning on their backs. At last they came under a great shade; a huge oak tree with branches that reached towards the sky, like strong arms with many long-fingered hands. A soft melody rose and fell in irregular intervals. Hansel listened intently, but he could hardly make out the lyrics.

The Inkling Forest was lined with lofty trees, and the land rose in wooded ridges beyond which lay the villages. Rivers slithered listlessly down the path, gleaming like pale glass under the afternoon sun. Northward, the land stretched endlessly into the distance in flats and bumps. The siblings dragged themselves forward, leaving behind a trail of pebbles that resembled pieces of glitter.

“Do you hear that, Gretel?” Hansel asked.

“Hear what?” Gretel scratched her head, studying her surroundings cautiously.

“This.” Hansel hummed, before continuing in a quavering voice, “There are many rumours about this place. Have you, perhaps, heard of the Deathsong of the Witch King?”

“No…You must be imagining things, Hansel. We’ll be safe once we leave the woods.” Gretel gave a reassuring pat on Hansel’s shoulder, “But we have to find the treasure trove first. We cannot disappoint Father.”

There was a roar of thunder. Dark clouds loomed overhead. Bushes susurrated in the howling wind. On either side ahead a darkness loomed through the trees.

“Come on, Gretel! We have to go!” Hansel called back over his shoulder.

The dark patches grew darker, and suddenly the siblings saw, towering maliciously before them, a tangled monstrosity of rodents. This dominion of nastiness was covered in sores that spewed a green, murky substance. The slime began to bubble vigorously. Within these bubbles, seven shells emerged. They cracked. A legion of rats burst from the shells, splintering the trees as they lunged for the siblings.

“Help!” They screamed.

Reply
1. WriterOfThought
  
  December 17, 2022
  
  A very interesting take on the Hansel and Gretel story for sure. I like how we don’t actually get to see the Witch King, but we do get to see evidence of their power.
  
  As a connoisseur of fairy tales, I must ask a couple of questions that this story brings to mind:
  
  Are the rats a reference to the Pied Piper of Hamelin? Are Hansel and Gretel children that got caught in the Piper’s song? Or are they dead and this is some sort of purgatory woods?
  
  I’m actually not left very curious about the treasure trove, so if you intended to make me so I’d recommend getting some of their emotions regarding the hoard in along with the mentioning.
  
  Other than that, very well done.
  
  Reply
  1. Bianca C. Lewis
    
    December 17, 2022
    
    Thank you for your kind remarks! Yes, my story was inspired by the “Pied Piper of Hamelin”. There are several references to the tale – the rats, the song in the Inkling Woods, etc.
    
    However, this is a shortened version of a longer story, and I wanted to highlight the downsides of filial responsibility. The siblings’ desire to alleviate their circumstances spurred them on to venturing into the Woods – and, ultimately, to their unfortunate encounter with the Witch King.
    
    I originally wanted to elaborate on the siblings’ motivation to seek the treasure trove, but found that my piece exceeded the word limit. I personally think there is room for improvement.
    
    Reply
2. C. M. Weller
  
  December 17, 2022
  
  An interesting take on the old fairy tale. I’m wondering if this is another type of “childhood stories all happen in the same world” universe. It’s not common, but I’m always intrigued by them.
  
  I know Hansel and Gretel, and I was expecting the witch, but the Rat King from the Nutcracker Suite? That was unexpected.
  
  Is the Witch King also the Rat King? Or is this fleshy nightmare something SENT by the Witch King? And why are the kids looking for treasure?
  
  This is very cool.
  
  Reply
  1. Bianca C. Lewis
    
    December 18, 2022
    
    Yes, the Witch King is also the Rat King. In “The Nutcracker and the Mouse King” by E.T.A Hoffman, the latter was described to have seven heads. (In my piece, this fleshy abomination birthed seven shells of fearsome rats.) However, I also wanted to allude to the number seven in the Bible, and invert its meaning of perfection and completion. Granted the gruesome Witch King, the connotations of the number seven, more specifically, holiness and healing, have been reversed. (Hopefully, this tweaking of meaning contributes to the atmosphere.)
    
    The children sought for treasure because they wanted to improve their circumstances. Due to the fact that my story is a conglomeration of different fairy tales, mainly “The Pied Piper of Hamelin” and “Hansel and Gretel”, I could have specified the location of the treasure trove. (Possibly the Kalvarien Hill where the 130 children vanished.)
    
    I hope this clarified your doubts!
    
    Reply
3. MelancholicOtaku
  
  December 17, 2022
  
  Another chance to witness a great story in the group. The dread you get while you’re reading and joining Hansel and Gretel on their way back home to their loving father. You can tell that something sinster is following them or it’s in the air.
  Then bam it happens and the kids are now doomed
  
  Reply
Maxer4000

December 15, 2022

Due payment
by Maxer4000

“They’re coming! They’re coming!” cries the WEA general as she bolted from the bloodied car, her body guards lie within, never to be able to move thanks to their brains being splattered around a bullet hole.

Hearing the distress, the gate guards hurry over to ferry her inside the HQ building, their most fortified place the world, yet general is still jittery at the prospect, she keeps muttering
“I need to get out! I must get out!”

“Please general, we are in our home turf, we’re invincible here, you’re safe” the head security guard assures.

Gun fires begin to roar out, but soon snuffed, not even a whisper can be heard. The lights begin to pop, plunging the base into darkness.

“They’re here! They’re here!” the general cries out, sprinting deep into the building.

“Somebody get the backup gen on! you two! wit–” the head sec points to the two guards that was with her, only to see through the newly lit emergency lights that their heads are gone, one having a grate fell on, one’s body hanging by a crystal tendril drilling through the neck stump.

Crystals sprout from the body, the coldness and the stink of blood assaults her nose, growing ever close to her. She pulls out her machine gun to shoot down the spikes, but her rapid-fire shot are not enough to chip away the red ice as the growth begins to skewer her to the wall, panic sets in as her last scream can be heard through out the halls.

The general shrugs off the scream as she keeps running, anywhere, she doesn’t care as long as it away from them. Gun shots again ring out at a corner, she relieved that there’s still someone to defend her. She turns the corner only to see a green eye man standing over the pool of blood of her soldiers.

“I’m feeling generous tonight. Ya have 30 seconds, love… run.” He gives her a cheeky grin. She turns and run.

“Run little piggy. Run! Backstabbing us eh? Ya done goof, lass.”

Ten seconds left before the hunt.

Reply
1. Lunabear
  
  December 21, 2022
  
  This story is quite graphic, Maxer. I just wanted to point that out; there’s nothing inherently wrong with graphic things. I think you handle it quite well. It feels like a thriller or suspense story. I enjoy the mystery aspect of it as you plop the reader directly in the middle of the action and keep it going throughout the story. And while, we never get an answer as to who “he” is or who “they” are, I don’t believe that is the point of the story.
  
  It’s in the details, and the fact that someone is after this woman and wants her dead. The reasoning is because she double crossed them. I think that’s sufficient in getting the point across.
  
  Multiple bombs explode throughout this story. The multitude of deaths, which are all quite shocking, as well as her thinking she has found an ally at the end of the story when, in fact, she has run into the very people she has been trying to escape. Very nice buildup and follow through.
  
  Critiques:
  
  “They’re coming! They’re coming!” cries the WEA general as she bolt(s) from the bloodied car, her (bodyguards) (lying) within,
  
  Hearing the distress, the gate guards hurry over to ferry her inside the HQ building, their most fortified place (in) the world, yet
  (the) general is still jittery at the prospect(.) (S)he keeps muttering(,)
  “I need to get out! I must get out!”
  
  “Please(,) (G)eneral, we are (o)n our home turf, we’re invincible here(.) (Y)ou’re safe(,)” the head security guard assures.
  
  (Gunfire) roar(s) out, but (is) soon snuffed, not even a whisper heard.
  
  “They’re here! They’re here!” the general cries out, sprinting deep into the building.
  
  “Somebody get the backup gen on!(“) (T)he head (SEC) points to the two guards that (were) with her. (Y)ou two! (W)it–” (She) see(s) through the newly lit emergency lights that their heads are gone, one (crushed by a grate), (and the other’s) body hanging by a crystal tendril drilling through the neck stump. Crystals sprout from the body(.)
  
  (T)he coldness and the stink of blood assaults the general’s) nose, growing ever close to her. She pulls out her machine gun to shoot down the spikes, but her rapid-fire shot(s) are not enough to chip away the red ice(.) (A)s the growth begins to skewer her to the wall, panic sets in as her scream can be heard through(out) the halls.
  
  The general (cuts) off the scream as she keeps running, anywhere(.) (S)he doesn’t care as long as it(‘s) away from them. Gun(shots) again ring out at a corner,(.) (S)he(‘s) relieved that there’s still someone to defend her. She turns the corner only to see a green(-)eye(d) man standing over the pool of blood of her soldiers.
  
  “I’m feeling generous tonight. Ya have 30 seconds, love… (R)un.” He gives her a cheeky grin. She turns and run(s).
  
  “Run(,) little piggy. Run! Backstabbing us(,) eh? Ya done goof(ed), lass.”
  
  I am so very sorry for all of these critiques, but the way you originally had it written was very difficult to become immersed within the story. Please take these critiques with a huge tumbler of salt.
  
  Despite these critiques, however, I did enjoy the story. The graphic nature of the story may break the rules, and while I personally am not a fan of it anymore, you write how you want to write. And as I mentioned earlier in the review, you handle it quite well. I don’t feel it’s over the top. An interesting, action-packed, bloody take on the prompt. Good job. Thank you so much for writing and sharing this.
  
  Reply
Xavier21

December 15, 2022

His Hands Fly Away
By: Xavier Twentyone (Disclaimer: this story does not offense and depict any real life religion or group)

It is a jolly, jolly Christmas time and everyone is happy for its arrival. Everyone that is, except for Galahad, for he is nervous for what comes in the near future. In fact, he never actually did this thing while he was in training. After all, he only learned how to pray to God, how to not disobey God, and of course how to be a knight of God.

But it is not like he is the only knight that exists in the shades and shadows of society. There are many of them, hiding, because it is unwise to reveal one’s own hand when the time is unneeded.

“And when the time is needed,” The Imperial Knight said. “That is the time of the unexpected, we shall strike with our sword and shield, for the sword is to attack our enemy, and the shield to defend ourselves.”

The Imperial Knight closed his book, and everyone sat down while preparing to listen to the Imperial Knight. Every week they sat down in their church doing masses for True Believers, including Galahad and his knights.

“Brothers and sisters, every night we gather here from every rank. By it The Meek, The Knight, and sometimes The Imperial Knight listen to our Lord’s wisdom. But tonight we will celebrate and rejoice for our brother who has given up his rank to serve our Lord with its totality in body, spirit, and mind, Galahad!”

Everyone suddenly stood up and cheered and screamed and clapped their hands, praising Galahad for his bravery.

“Ga-la-had! Ga-la-had!” as the rhythm echoed through the church.

“Remember son, you were chosen for this, not the other way around, rejoice,” and thus the ceremony began.

Long long after that night, Galahad still remembers the warmth of his order, his friends, his family, everyone he ever knew. For it gives him strength to do the mission. A strength to do the ultimate God’s bidding. He then prays, and shouts from the middle of a park.

“Glory to GOOOOOODDDDDDDD!!!”

He pushes the button that is on his hand, and his hands fly away.

Reply
1. Aracnarquista
  
  December 19, 2022
  
  This is interesting. I like how it is structured and paced, but I think there is a little bit of a discrepancy in the language used. More often than not, you seem to be going for a very formal and old-styled way of addressing things, both in narration and in dialogue. But sometimes the repetitions and sentence structures become a little bit more informal or more fairy-tale like. Not sure how I feel about it.
  
  And just to point a very small but noticeable thing – I would phrase the TW a little differently: I think it would be better to say no offense is intended, than to state there is no offense there. I’m not saying I found the tale offensive in any way, but a statement of intent is ultimately more honest than outright saying there is no offense there, and incurring the risk that someone end up feeling offended.
  
  Overall, I like how the theme is just implied for most of the story, and when the reveal comes, we are left with the possibility of examining our own reading of Galahad’s and his brothers-in-faith fervor until that very end. That can open up some interesting questioning. I think a bit more context on what they perceive as threats to their community or faith would help in setting, but that might as well spoil the effect intended. Maybe frame their fears in their own language: it has its own risks, but it would flesh the feelings of the Knight a bit more, and heightens the effect of the disconnection we are supposed to feel when we finally get what he has done.
  
  Overall, really interesting story, and an equally interesting take on the prompt.
  
  Reply
  1. Xavier21
    
    December 20, 2022
    
    Hi! thanks for your feedback, i really appreciate it. about the old-style and fairy-tale like, i understand where you coming from. I struggle with english language because english is my second tongue, so may be there are a bit mazy in writing style. also thanks about the CW suggestion, definitely going change that in the future. And about giving more context to the story about why the order attack doing terrorized attack on Christmas can definitely be added, how ever since we only have 350 word max. per story, sadly there are almost no room for more explanation about why the order the way there are. however i will continue to improve for the next prompt, so once again thank you.
    
    btw, i want to ask you about something that is the sentence “His Hands Fly Away”. do you have any comments about that? may be about whether the sentence give you a certain feeling about the revelation? or may be it sounded funny to you? or anything else
    
    Reply
    1. Aracnarquista
      
      December 20, 2022
      
      Yeah, I know. The word limit is the main antagonist of most of our stories here. Flash fiction is, after all, an exercise in concision – and this can be very difficult.
      
      Well, about the title and the use of that particular sentence – to my eyes, it sounded a bit like describing a religious trance, before the revelation. I don’t feel like it gives it away before the precise moment where it appears in the story, and when it does, I think it the language employed helps keeping it very literal but maintaining that idea of religious trance experience I had before. I’d say it is very appropriate. That being said, I’d be lying if I wouldn’t say I also had a bit of a funny interpretation to it (but that was not as prevalent as the religious motif one), and may as well have happened because there is a song that uses a similar sentence to convey something similar to the elation of gratitude and a joke about that song that makes the connection of bits of the body falling off. So, this was also on the back of my mind while I read it.
      
      Reply
      1. Xavier21
        
        December 21, 2022
        
        hmmm i see, thanks for your comment.
        
        Reply
MasaCur

December 15, 2022

Jump Scare
By MasaCur

Akane heard the giggling under the table as she entered the kitchen. Pretending she didn’t, she looked around. “Where did Nabiki go? I thought I saw her go in here.”

The giggling got louder.

Akane opened up a cupboard door. “Is she in here? Nope. I wonder where she is.”

The giggling seemed to muffle a little, as if Nabiki was trying to cover her mouth.

Akane looked around the room. “I thought I heard her around here.”

Nabiki jumped out from under the table. “BOOO! I scared you, Mama!”

“Oh dear! You certainly did, you silly girl.”

Nabiki laughed as she ran out of the kitchen, her short pigtails bouncing with every step. Akane shook her head as she watched her young daughter run off.

Ever since she found out about jump scares, Nabiki had been trying to scare her and Rikuto. Badly, though. She didn’t seem to realize the giggling gave herself away.

After she finished making a sandwich, Akane returned to the living room, and sat down on the sofa. Pop music was playing over the stereo. A quick snack, some tea, and back to practice, Akane had decided. Some background music would help Akane put her into the correct headspace. She closed her eyes as she quietly ate, letting the music fill her being.

One of Akane’s favorite songs came on, and she opened her eyes to find the remote. Having done so, she turned the volume up. This song was so good. She should see if she could find a recording of it to play along to. There was some complexity to it, and accompanying it on the violin should be challenging, yet satisfying.

There was a flash of movement from the corner of her eye.

“BOO! Got you again, Mama!”

Nabiki had jumped out from behind the arm of the sofa.

Akane was startled badly enough that the sandwich flew out of her hand and landed on the floor.

Nabiki raced off out of the living room, laughing again.

“Nabiki, you get back here! That’s not funny!”

Reply
1. Faustini
  
  December 15, 2022
  
  Little firecracker trying to create a tiny bit of mischief – that is the feeling that I have when iread about Nabiki. I know that I tended to do same and the moment when parents thing that they won is the moment in which you get them.
  Last scene where the sandwich flies into the air remined me of the similiar scene from ‘Two and half men’ when Jake screams: “Kebab”
  
  Overall well written
  
  Reply
2. Xavier21
  
  December 15, 2022
  
  Your story is really wonderful. It gives slice of life vibe to it. Its light to read in a sense that the mood of the story gives me a Sunday afternoon type of mood where everyone are relax from the worries of the world. That said, i dont know how you apply Nomb Under the Table prompt on this one, may be you care to reply this comment, let me know.
  
  Reply
3. Nick O. Lass
  
  December 16, 2022
  
  I appreciate the way Akane’s interest in the music gives us a moment to forget the earlier events with her daughter. It adds to the shock factor when she jumps at her a second time from behind the sofa. I might suggest turning the final paragraph before the “BOO!” into one that further lulls us into a peaceful security instead of setting up the jump. But I loved the sweet conclusion.
  
  Reply
4. Makokam
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  I knew the second, successful, one was coming and it was REALLY hard to not let my eyes skip ahead and spoil it.
  
  I’ve often found that’s a problem with these. I scroll through and catch bits of the endings. But sometimes that’s why I read the stories at all. So I guess it balances out.
  
  Knowing it was coming, because it had to, the slow buildup of conditions to make it happen was just…
  [INSERT PACHA MEME]
  
  Reply
C. M. Weller

December 15, 2022

The Herald of Doom? (A Devil’s Tale)
C. M. Weller

Henriette Bri’arillaine Kalamitee U’ah, “Briar” when she was fighting on the walls, shouldn’t have been in the Whitekeep Baron’s Council. Her twentieth birthday was in a few weeks. The next chance she would have to be part of governing was the following spring. Months away.

Da convinced the new Earl to let her in anyway. Earl Valiant saw the benefit, getting to know the new crew as they entered the governing of the realm.

Which included a lot more nonsense than Briar had anticipated. His Lordship was in the middle of telling a joke. One of those jokes that she may have been a little young for.

“And that’s when the Priestess said,” concluded Earl Valiant, “I’ve never seen one of those point DOWN before.”

Those who got it laughed. Those who didn’t quite get it laughed.

And one who couldn’t possibly get it laughed.

A piping guffaw from UNDER the TABLE.

Briar looked. There was a baby under the table. A baby Hellkin. The child’s dress he was wearing was the fine make for an infant Viscount. She had to smile. The next Demon Lord was at her feet. “Aw. Hello, little mischief? What’cha doin’ down there?”

Demon Lords all had the same name. Briar knew it

Half the other Barons were bending to look. The Earl himself bent down to look. Which instantly got the baby Viscount Kormwind’s attention.

He said, “Papa!” and wobbled to his feet.

If her father hadn’t won his argument, she would never have seen the next Demon Lord take his first steps.

Earl Valiant didn’t think it was as adorable as Briar did. He seemed to think it was the doom of the realm. He handed off his son as if he expected his heir to kill everything he could touch.

“My Barons,” he said, deeply serious. “It is drastically important that the knowledge that you have gained never leaves this room. You all know the Demon Lords as heralds of golden eras in the realm. I dread to tell you… I have a prophecy that could well mean the end of Whitekeep.”

Reply
1. Strong Berry
  
  December 17, 2022
  
  I’m assuming this is a part of a larger story. If’s that’s the case, I’d like to read more of it.
  
  One piece of critisism I would give you is the fact there is not much tension until the end. Maybe the Demon Lord will be dangerous in the future of the story, but right now he’s an adorable little baby. There is no danger for the characters.
  
  One way you could fix this is by making the Demon Lord something hidden the heroes have to find.
  
  Like I said, I want to read the larger story, if possible. I feel like context will help here.
  
  Reply
  1. C. M. Weller
    
    December 19, 2022
    
    I was thinking of the “bomb” being the “truth bomb” that Valiant had been trying to hide. The truth being that his firstborn son and heir is the next Demon Lord.
    
    I have absolute CHAPTERS of the longer story. Are you SURE you want it all? It takes up two GoogDocs so far and I’m nowhere near the end of it.
    
    If you’re still determined:
    https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1Pu85ZbcSdz7SLyQ4dC005FXnVQ4VsRO-?usp=sharing
    
    Reply
2. Alex
  
  December 19, 2022
  
  Interesting concept, making the bomb more a metaphor than an actual explosive. Seeing an innocent baby transformed into a demonic tyrant would certainly be a bombshell to drop.
  
  I like the foreshadowing in this piece. The prompt alone already implies the dark destiny, which the child will bring, but even without that, the story does a lot to keep the suspense of the future.
  
  Well written!
  
  Reply
  1. C. M. Weller
    
    December 21, 2022
    
    Spoilers: Kosh is not the vile tyrant or the herald of certain doom that Valiant or the reader may believe.
    
    Reply
3. Arith_Winterfell
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  Another excellent story from you C.M. Weller! This one was adorably sweet. I couldn’t help but smile at the toddler/infant Kosh and picturing him taking steps toward his father. It’s sad to see his father’s distaste for him, even as a child. More interesting still his emphasis to the lords and ladies present that the truth about Kosh’s presence be hidden further. Still it’s very interesting to see such a young Kosh given all I’ve seen about his adventures as an adult, so its a nice change in perspective. I also found Briar to be an interesting character. I would be interesting too to see her play a role in Kosh’s future too. All in all, well done!
  
  Reply
4. Makokam
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  Honestly, I think Briar handled this amazingly well, especially considering she apparently didn’t know about Kosh yet. Did I read that right?
  
  I guess it makes sense though, since Hellkin are not unknown and, apparently, good omens to everyone in Whitekeep except Valiant.
  
  Have we seen Briar before? She seems important. I don’t remember her though. But I don’t remember a lot of people, so I won’t be surprised if she’s been in a few stories already.
  
  Reply
Iskritt

December 14, 2022

A Story

By Iskritt

There is a story that must be told. A story of adventurers doomed to fail. Adventurers who knew the fate of their journey, yet pressed on, believing it would change.

There were four of them, nameless and forgotten by the endless flow of time. Instead, they only came to be known by the colors they would wear to their inevitable end.

Green, a skilled archer who had not missed a shot for as long as they could remember. Red, a knight of high esteem, though no one would know them now. Blue, a tactician soon to be proven fallible for the first time. Yellow, the well rounded leader, trusted by all the others.

Their mission was simple, to retrieve a small artifact from an abandoned village at the request of their king.

They reached the artifact without issue. There were no monsters guarding it, or rival kingdoms attempting to take it for themselves. Instead, it was the artifact that revealed the real danger. The fate of the adventurers should they return it to their king, and complete their quest.

Green did not understand the artifact’s warning, and looked to their friends for guidance. Red didn’t believe the artifact, and disregarded it. Blue was weighed the risk of the warning and made their judgement, concluding to continue the quest. Yellow trusted their friends, as they had always trusted them.

The adventurers journeyed back to their home, choosing to ignore the warning of the artifact.

The journey back did present an obstacle. Nightmares of their coming fate plagued them during their journey, but they refused to speak of such things.

Green stood back as the artifact was handed to the king, and had refused to touch it for the entire journey. Red stood next to the giver, trying to protect what he could. Blue watched closely, hoping the warning would not be fulfilled. Yellow handed the artifact to the king.

Now, none of them are known.

Now, they are forever forgotten, except through the tale of their final act.

I am sorry friends. I failed you.

Reply
1. Xavier21
  
  December 17, 2022
  
  I really like your story for its simplicity as if this is a story that people of the past truly tells. There are no mention of the “bomb”, but i know what they are carrying, through the character’s concerned and the way you tell the tale. I also like the premise of this story in which the characters use color because people had forgotten their names. creative way of thinking. However there are things i don’t like about the ending, especially “I am sorry friend. I failed you,”. I assume that the one said that is Green because he did not touch the artifact at all, however there are no indication that he survived, especially since the story is told as if the narrator do not know their names (and my assumption is just a theory). I suggest you put more exposition to the ending since last i checked the word count is still 344, change the ending entirely (the monologue after Yellow hand over the artifact to the king is not good either. It emphasis too much for the tales to be “unknown” and “only known through the final act” yeah we already knew that from the beginning, and besides if the story truly is unknown, why are we listening to them?. Also, which one is true? non of them are known, or people only know their final act?), or… you can just erase the final paragraph.
  
  Reply
  1. Iskritt
    
    December 19, 2022
    
    Yah I can definitely see what you are saying. Reading through it again a few days after writing gives a whole new perspective lol.
    
    The final statement (and therefore the identity of the narrator) is supposed to be by yellow, the leader who didn’t really “Lead” and more went with the rest of the group despite the obvious risk, hence their “sorry”, but I can definitely see the green argument. I don’t really know how to have made it clear, so maybe just leaving it out would have been better.
    
    While I see your point about the redundancy of the ending in the restating of “they are forgotten”, I still like it because it clarifies “this is the moment it happened”, and I really like having the big hit “moments”
    
    I definitely could have done more in the way of exposition. I have a head explanation for everything, and I obviously can’t fit it all into a 350 word count story while still having an actual story, but I definitely could have done more.
    
    Overall, thank you for your criticism. Having weak points to re-examine really helps for the future. In terms of this story, I think I should have just actually used the extra week and kept it in the workshop a but longer.
    
    Reply
    1. Xavier21
      
      December 19, 2022
      
      Although the ending is not perfect, you really did a great job with the story, because the premise is something that i had never seen before (and its just the ending that could have a lot more rework, the rest of the story is really great), so keep it up for the next prompt!
      
      Ow btw, can you leave a comment for my writing (His Hands Fly Away)? i don’t expect a like, i just want to know what other people thought of my writings. i will be grateful if you have time for it.
      
      Reply
Tamela Redfin

December 14, 2022

Acidic Kiss

By Tamela Redfin
TW Gore

Henry looked at Cora. “You’re never going to believe me, but we need to get rid of Augen.”

Cora was startled. “What? You mean kill him?”

“Unfortunately, yes. It’s that or he keeps resetting time to get his way. And it gets ugly fast.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying!” Cora shouted, causing a few people to glance their way.

Henry lowered his voice, “Your choker, darling. I know what Augen uses it for. Look, I don’t know why you don’t remember but I do. We need to off Augen and fast.” He then whispered another fact he knew of in her ear.

“Helen?!” Cora covered her mouth. “No, he can’t do that to Helen. Alright Henry, I will help you. And if you are soulmates, may it be so. But nobody does that to my sister!”
——————-

Could she? She stared at the vial and read the label: Sulfuric acid.
Could she really poison him? But Cora, think of the people you’re saving. And best of all, he’ll never see it coming. She thought.

————————————————————————————————————–
She shook up the vial and stored it in her pocket. “Ready, Cora?” She traversed the dark basement to reach her boyfriend

“Hello Augen.” Cora waved to her boyfriend.

“Allo Cora, have a seat.” He sat down and opened up a bottle of water.

“Hold on, I got the sweetener. I hope you like the flavor.” She poured in it, hoping the plastic wouldn’t melt.

He took a sip. “Huh, no flavor. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about the cyphas. I think we should….”

He began coughing and spitting up blood.

“How does my acid taste? Strangely, with a mix of hydrogen, sulfur, and oxygen you can kill a man. Maybe don’t date younger girls.”

After a while, Augen lay motionless. His blood was pooling everywhere. It would be a mess to clean, but maybe could call this her revenge for the past, present, and even the bad future.

Reply
1. Xavier21
  
  December 15, 2022
  
  just wanna ask, is it okay for writers to use “———” in their prompts? just in case
  
  Reply
2. C. M. Weller
  
  December 15, 2022
  
  How many more times can Augen die? Asking for the hundreds of Augen Death Fans here in the Foundry.
  
  The bomb in this story has to be everyone’s patience with the baddie we all love to hate. Am I right? That HAD to go off sooner or later.
  
  Is the ingredients for sulphuric acid in your story a reference to various people’s ranks? I remember Sulphur Cora, but not the rest [mind like a steel seive] if so, then extremely clever. If I’ve been accidentally clever, then claim it as your own and run away with it now 😀
  
  Reply
  1. Tamela Redfin
    
    December 15, 2022
    
    This is the last time for our mad scientist. At this point, he never made the clone army. >:D
    
    And yes lol. I’ve been waiting for this one for a long time.
    
    The ranks and ingredients are references to the two people Cora loved but Augen tore her away from: Birdie, the oxygen who was a friend turned lover and Henry, the hydrogen, her bodyguard she loved, but had to leave after Augen discovered the affair.
    
    I foresee, if I do more of Cora in between the cypha chapters, she dates both Birdie and Henry. They are ok with it.
    
    Reply
3. Makokam
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  “Maybe don’t date younger girls” is honestly really odd for her to say as her Post Mortem One Liner because it had the least to do with why she was killing him out of everything.
  
  Like, the list of his sins goes on for pages and that’s what she choses? Nothing about brainwashing or enslaving her, torturing Cyphas, destroying entire timelines?
  
  Anyway… The important thing is that he’s DEAD.
  
  I’ve no idea where you plan to take this, unless this is just like, 11th hour twist that gets you the good or bad ending, and we see “Where Are They Now” footage as the credits roll. in which case that could be a cool ending.
  
  Reply
  1. Tamela Redfin
    
    December 30, 2022
    
    All sounds good but I’m planning a soft reboot and focusing on Cameron and Cecilia. One where her and her cousins (including Zirconia) are not in an internment camps. The characters are still the same, but I’d really like to scrub that out.
    
    Reply
4. Joe
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  HA!
  
  Reply
Kenji

December 14, 2022

The Dark is Coming
By Kenji

‘I can’t get up. I can’t get up. I can’t get up.’

The thought repeats in my mind as I look at my lap, something poking from beneath he kitchen table.

My arms are glued to the tabletop, my hands firmly grasping the spoon. My legs are tense. Feeling the pressure on top of them makes them start to shake, but I manage to stop myself.

The clock ticks on the wall in front of me, while the beating keeps going, just out of view, on my lap. My phone is just barely out of reach, so I can’t call for help.

I look around the room, trying to find something to help me. I can feel my legs being stabbed, the time bomb below the table more dangerous each second. My time is running out.

I reach my arm down to try to stop it, but I end up jolting it back up after feeling something sharp. Warm droplets of blood flow out, tiny red stains appear on my pants while a groan comes out of my mouth.

I put strength into my hand, and I throw the spoon at the counter across the kitchen, hitting a bell sitting on top. Soon after, a loud meow can be heard as the pressure disappears from my legs, and pattering of paws runs towards the noise.

I can see a black shadow climb the counter easily, and reach the bell, before turning towards me.

Those blue eyes look at me. I have survived another day.

Reply
1. Xavier21
  
  December 14, 2022
  
  I know this is a silly story, but i want to give stories that interest me some constructive criticism because i believe everyone here wants to become a better writer, and anyone can’t become a better writer if the don’t receive criticism.
  
  Constructive criticism and comments:
  — why does his arm glued on the first place?
  — i still cant imagine the imagery on this writing, Is he lying down, is he sitting, i don’t know
  — why does hitting the bell with the spoon distract the cat?
  — what does the cat bellow the table kitchen doing?
  
  May be i just don’t have great imagination, may be not. I don’t know, it is just something that i observed. However, i really appreciate your story because 1 story is better than none. i really love how you built tention through your writings. keep it up, you can do it.
  
  Reply
  1. Kenji
    
    December 14, 2022
    
    What I wanted to convey was just a cat scratching their owner from below a kitchen table while the owner was eating breakfast or something of the like, that’s I believe the answer to questions 2 and 4.
    
    The “Glued to the table” part is just a metaphor for being really tense and pressing against the table with his arms.
    
    And the bell was just supposed to be a sort of cat toy that distracts the cat or something like that.
    
    I wanted to write something but it was just such a silly idea I could barely get enough words to get the minimum word count in by just using filler.
    
    I appreciate the response, and thank you very much for the support!
    
    Reply
    1. Xavier21
      
      December 15, 2022
      
      There is no such things as silly ideas, only poorly executed ideas. I believe people can write anything they want as long as they know how to write it. However now that i have read it again, you really did a good job on the suspense. In this case that’s all the criticism i can think of. Keep writing for the next prompt!!!!!
      
      Reply
Sniperaxiom

December 14, 2022

He is going to blow!

By Sniperaxiom

Arlo and Sasha held my arms behind me. They tried to keep my frantic flailing in check. I couldn’t stop though, I felt it moving in my stomach.

“AH! It’s moving! It’s laying eggs! It’s- it’s eating through me!”

“Sh! Calm down Blake it is not! Hold him still guys!”

Cora shouted as she combined two murky mixtures together.

My heart was racing and my body was shaking with adrenaline. The slithering movement within my stomach continued to spike my fear.

“IT KICKED!”

“Boy get a grip Blake.” Sasha said from beside me with a hint of amusement.

“So much for a tough guy.” Arlo added.

Cora whipped around. “Sasha, Arlo! Just hold him still! If he moves too much it’ll work up that thing inside of him and it could cause some serious damage!”

The mention of serious damage and the untimely movement within my stomach sent me into more spasms of panic.

“HOLD HIM STILL!” Cora grabbed my jaw and squeezed it causing me to open my mouth and gasp in pain. Then the thick mixture was poured down my throat, leaving a tingling feeling in my mouth.

I was fed up with involuntarily eating things.

I croaked, “W-what was that?”

“Something your little friend there won’t like.” Cora said with a smirk. “That thing will be coming up the same way it clawed itself in. Back up boys, you’ll want to steer clear for this.”

At that Arlo and Sasha let go of my arms and stepped away, Arlo letting out a “Ew-.”

I breathed quickly, unable to think. Still I could feel the monster inside me. It was swirling around quickly, clearly unhappy. My body began to violently contract with gagging.

In my mingled made murky with fever and fear I formed the question, what did Cora make me swallow? I leaned forward quickly as the gaging reached its worst.

“Guys get your weapons! Here it comes!”

Reply
1. Strong Berry
  
  December 14, 2022
  
  So, some poor guy has some sort of parasite inside of him and he has to swallow a potion to get rid of it. A creative take on the prompt, that’s for sure. I can already see a great follow-up for this, a great fight where the friends try to kill/contain the parasite. Good Job!
  
  Reply
2. Iskritt
  
  December 14, 2022
  
  I really like this. There seems to be a lot of information you had to convey to the audience in a very short time span, while also telling a story. It doesn’t seem easy but you made it flow really nicely throughout. The panic of the main character kept things interesting and lively and this take on the “bomb” was incredibly unique.
  
  the only minor nitpick I have is that the danger of the situation seems a bit vague. The people trying to help Blake don’t seem to be taking it very seriously, until one of them finally force feeds the potion. Particularly the quote ““So much for a tough guy.” Arlo added.” sticks out to me, because if it is an actually dangerous creature, this kind of comment doesn’t seem like something someone would say.
  
  Besides that though, I think it was an overall interesting take and really cool idea. Well done!
  
  Reply
  1. Sniperaxiom
    
    December 15, 2022
    
    Thanks for the review! 😀 that “nitpick” is completely valid! I think your right, I was trying to emphasize Arlo’s tone-deafness but I can see how it came out wrong. Also I didn’t need to put that. Thanks!
    
    Reply
3. Joe
  
  December 20, 2022
  
  This was actually fun to read. I love the whole scenario of a person with a creature inside them. The host being driven up the wall with discomfort, and friends wanting to help but have a hard time being empathetic about it while holding them down, is just hilarious.
  
  I don’t really have any critiques to make other than a mispelling of the word ‘gagging’ in the second to last sentence.
  
  Other than that, have a like!
  
  Reply
4. Marx
  
  December 28, 2022
  
  Lol well to be fair, you take a tough guy and put a clawed creature literally moving around in their belly and I’d say almost if not all of them would be flipping out. This was a very entertaining read. You get so much information in such a short piece. My favorite little nugget was the line about being fed up with involuntarily eating things, which I’d assume is how his “friend” got in there in the first place.
  
  It was all really good though. I liked Blake freaking out because that made all the sense even though it might not be as bad if he forced himself to calm down from the sound of things but the human mind doesn’t always think that logically. Arlo and Sasha worked pretty well, giving you a good idea of their personalities and the same could be said for Cora.
  
  It’s not easy to make a short story work with so many characters and you did wonderfully. Great job!
  
  Reply
Galer

December 14, 2022

Yearly Surprise

by Galer.

“So how are you doing?” he asked grabbing the phone with his stocky but muscular arms,” because for me it was a good day ”

Leonardo the dwarf didn’t notice the strange dark glyph his phone manifested, not that he could have caught it anyway given that it was the size of a small needle.

“Oh! I am ok alright,” Marian said on the other side, her gooey hands still on her phone none-wiser of the glyph “it was a good sunny day although remember the dye I drink for hallowing?”

“What happened with that?” The dwarf asked the nymph the glyph started to get a countdown that was descending, ” I thought you cleaned that Green hue from your body after Halloween?”

“I did until it wasn’t, the thing turned out to be one of those magical ones, and triggered at random,” she said completely deadpan and annoyed ” so Imagine my surprise went that happened and now it was harder to take off,”

“By Odin, I can imagine that now, hard to get rid of now that it’s magic,” said the dwarf while the dark thing still progressively ticked down towards the end,” did you try to find a curse breaker or anything similar? ”

the glyph reached zero, but the conversation wasn’t interrupted, at all, it keep going peacefully until it finished.

“I will be busy in a couple of minutes have fun this Christmas,” she said after which she closed the phone.

“Have a lovely Christmas too,“ the dwarf replied and closed the phone shut, he got out of the room and towards the kitchen.

however, the instant that happened a Cachophonus, sound scaped the room he walked away from, and as quickly as he could run back inside it, in a panic.

only to be met with gaudy Christmas decorations, and fake snow everywhere, in the room the dwarf and his Jaws hit the floor but the shock slowly turned into a chuckle.” Merry Christmas you Maniac”

Oliver, the therianthropic bastard, did his yearly Christmas prank again.

Reply
1. Weiss
  
  December 20, 2022
  
  That’s such a wholesome story! I enjoyed imagining that happening, just a casual everyday life of different entities in a fantasy-like world. Always loved those. Great job!
  
  Reply
  1. Galer
    
    December 29, 2022
    
    thanks
    
    Reply
Marx

December 13, 2022

Be Prepared
By Marx

I feel Nisha staring, but I refuse to look back.

Even when her eyes glow an ominous crimson.

Even when she slowly crawls toward me, her sharp teeth bared.

I keep my eyes forward, only perceiving her actions in my peripheral vision.

“Tell me what you know, mortal!” She snarls at me.

I finally look at her with a challenging smirk. “Or what?”

Nisha blinks wide-eyed, clearly not expecting that response. “Or… I will… pout! With vigorous intensity!”

“Or… you just watch the rest of the movie, and find out yourself.”

Nisha’s eyes glow again in defiance. “You make an infuriatingly suspicious face whenever I say something about the protagonist. I demand to know why!”

“Remember that not at all creepy speech you gave me before about wanting to know everything about me? About wanting to argue with me so we can make up? About wanting to know what terrifies me and what brings me joy? About wanting to hurt me and be hurt by me and all those… completely normal words of affection?”

Nisha nods. “Yes. Of course I do. I stand by every word.”

“Great. This is one of my favorite movies. Enjoy.” I try not to grin as Nisha flashes me a dirty look but slowly turns back to the TV.

“Also, Scar isn’t the protagonist.” I add as my smirk breaks through.

Nisha’s eyes shoot wide again, glaring at me anew. “I am no fool! Scar is the most sympathetic character! He twisted his unfortunate circumstances and took control of them. He murdered his more powerful foe through ingenious trickery and turns what should be his enemies into powerful allies! He also has the best song!”

“Okay. That last point is fair.” I say with a chuckle.

“All he needs to do is find that lazy whelp of a cub and destroy him! It will be easy! He doesn’t even eat meat anymore! He’ll be malnourished and ripe for the plunder! Scar will make a great king.”

I continue fighting my amusement and keep my eyes directly ahead, throwing a piece of popcorn into my mouth.

Reply
1. Sniperaxiom
  
  December 15, 2022
  
  Alright I love this take use of the prompt! The bomb is gonna be Scar’s fate. Its so funny to think about the reaction when Scar dies. I love how the main character knows what is coming but let’s Nisha get invested. I don’t feel like the shift in tone in the beginning to a calmer and more comedic one isnt distracting. At least, that’s my opinion, good job :D!
  
  Reply
  1. Marx
    
    December 27, 2022
    
    Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it! This was especially fun for me to write especially because of that shift in tone so I’m glad it worked.
    
    Reply
2. Joe
  
  December 20, 2022
  
  When I first read the title I immediately thought of the song, not thinking this was going to be a huge reference to the movie.
  
  But OH WAS I WRONG!
  
  This really scratches the itch of wanting some fantasy characters react to one of our favorite childhood movies. And I think it’s a cherry on top to make Nisha so villainous that Scars death is going to be her Mufasa.
  
  Oh! This is charming. Have a like!
  
  Reply
  1. Marx
    
    December 27, 2022
    
    Lol I purposely tried to pick a reference in the title that was a giveaway but also worked on it’s own so it wouldn’t be too obvious. So happy that worked as planned!
    
    And yeah I suppose her reaction to the Mufasa scene and the ending would be inverted to how most people would see it which is pretty hilarious, though probably not for her lol.
    
    Reply
3. Makokam
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  See, she does have some points…aside from the entire framing of the movie.
  I’m curious how…uh…inheritance? Lineage? Succession? Works in Hell.
  Scar was the younger brother, and then Mufasa had a kid so… Yeah.
  You could make a really interesting reverse Lion King and make Scar the protagonist just by making him the older sibling, who lost…inheritor status(?) (WHAT IS THE WORD I’M LOOKING FOR?!?!) in a duel or something and that’s also how he got the scar.
  
  Reply
LanaMae

December 13, 2022

Friggin Christmas

It’s friggin Christmas, again for the 13th time I am stuck in the least Christmas-like place in the world. The flipping desert , nothing but sand and sun for thousands of miles. Well and my bunker with 3 other soldiers.

This is the 13th time I have been through this day. If I don’t get it right this time then the world will explode instead of just the bomb outside of the bunker. 13 days ago we were diffusing the bomb and Will cut the wrong wire, we all died, the 2nd ,3rd and 4th times I tried to stop them from getting us all killed and I failed .

The 5th time I thought I had it , but we missed the secondary timer and it blew anyway. I don’t even want to talk about the next 3 times, it is too gruesome to remember,let alone discuss.

The 9th time we never had a chance to defuse anything, some dip ward dropped tabletops from the sky and everything blew up when it hit the bomb.

The 10th time I tried to defuse it myself by sneaking out when everyone else was asleep. That went poorly, I don’t have time to explain it.

The next 2 times I don’t have room in my journal to explain it all, so here’s the last chance to save the entire planet.

The ‘lucky’ number 13, right? So I have tried to explain it to my fellow soldiers every day this week as I keep repeating things.

I have decided to do it a little differently this time. It says nothing about if I die, only that I need to save my troops. I have found a tool for moving the device , when everyone else falls asleep, I will start the very delicate process of moving it away from them and into the middle of the crevice 1/4 of a mile away.

I finally made it, and I dropped the device down the crevice and I passed out, I woke up today in the hospital with no arms or legs.

The End

Reply
1. Xavier21
  
  December 14, 2022
  
  Just a reminder, your story must have your name on it. Because it risk being not eligible (your story wont be picked).
  
  Some constructive criticism or comments:
  — The story says the 4 soldiers died for at least 12 times. there are no explanations for this. Besides, if the bomb explode many times how does the world still exist?
  — why is the 13th time is the last chance to save the world?
  — I suggest you change “…thousands of miles. Well and my bunker…” to “thousands of miles, a well, and my bunker” sounds a a lot nicer isn’t it? Punctuation can change everything in a sentence.
  — what is dip ward and why it dropped tabletops?
  — If in the 13th time the bomb still explode, why is it the world didn’t end?
  — you don’t need to put “The End” at the end of the story, everyone will know if your story ends. Also, it is a waste of words since you only have max. 350 words per story
  
  However, i like how you tell the story with rhythm according to how many times they tried. Gives the story its unique flavor. The characters are many but it is easy to follow, so that’s a plus.
  
  Reply
  1. LanaMae
    
    December 15, 2022
    
    Thanks and I appreciate your feedback, I was in a rush I need to find more time to write. A dipwad is a nice way to say asshole I am hoping to have more time soon. So my writing improves.
    
    Reply
    1. Xavier21
      
      December 19, 2022
      
      hmmmm since in the announcement, the prompt will be closed in 3 weeks, i suggest you take time writing it down, or have some beta-readers to back you up
      
      Reply
Iosef Paramonov

December 13, 2022

Mastodon in the Chamber
by Iosef Paramonov

The staff huddled together in the drawing room corner, too frightened to speak. Meanwhile, the Earl was sprawled out on the chaise longue, puffing on his favourite pipe. His guests sat all around on sofas and armchairs, chatting merrily away on various topics.

The elephant watched them all from the doorway.

As the staff eyed the enormous pachyderm, a passionate debate erupted from the seated aristocrats. The Earl snapped his fingers.

“Wilkins, come here please,” he called.

The grey-haired and white-faced butler of the house froze at the sound of his name. He felt himself be pushed from the corner, before walking stiffly to his master’s side. Not once did he take his eyes off the elephant.

“Wilkins, we were having a little discussion,” said the Earl, “If you don’t mind, we’d like a little input from you.”

“…certainly… Sir…,” said Wilkins.

“Now, say you wanted to discuss an impending but troublesome topic. How would you bring it up in conversation?”

Wilkins looked at the elephant. The elephant looked back.

“What… kind of topic, Sir?”

“Well, say there was a loose wild animal. You observe — Good Heavens man, what are you doing?!”

The elephant had taken a step forward. Wilkins had leapt behind an armchair in which sat a Colonel.

“N-Nothing, S-Sir,” he stammered, “J-just tying my-”

He stopped as the elephant step forward again. Its left tusk was just an inch behind the Earl’s head.

“Goodness, you’re as white a sheet!” exclaimed the Colonel to Wilkins, “Whatever could be wrong?”

The elephant raised its trunk. There was the sound of smashing glass behind Wilkins.

“What on earth was that?” cried a Countess.

Wilkins turned around, noting the smashed window and absence of all other staff members.

Turning back, he watched in horror as the elephant brought its trunk down and…

…gently caressed the Earl’s head.

The Earl looked up, a light in his eyes.

“Ah Wilkins,” he said, “Forgot to mention, this is Pico, a gift from the Raja of Manipur. He’ll be staying with us from today, so do take care of him, will you!”

Reply
1. LanaMae
  
  December 13, 2022
  
  I love this, for a bit there I thought only the one guy could see the elephant. I like the way you described the sounds made by the glass and the countess .
  I would like to hear more about how the elephant became a gift and where it came from.
  
  Or even how it got where it is. Why Wilkins is so afraid of the elephant would make a good story addition as well. I know the word count is limited though.
  
  I enjoyed reading the story very much and I would like to read more about the pet elephant gift.
  
  Reply
2. LanaMae
  
  December 13, 2022
  
  I love your story, for a bit there I thought only Wilkins could see the elephant in the room. I do wonder though why he’s so terrified of the seemingly tame pachyderm.
  
  The shattered glass sound at first I thought was caused by the elephant and not Wilkins .
  I would like to know more about the elephant and how he got where he is as well.
  
  Reply
3. Strong Berry
  
  December 14, 2022
  
  So the ‘bomb’ couldn’t fit under the table this time…
  
  I like this piece. Ar first I thought the elephant was something that needed to be hidden, that’s why he was invisible. But then it was revealed he was a gift. Bomb defused.
  
  Overall, it’s a good read.
  
  Well done!
  
  Reply
4. Joe
  
  December 14, 2022
  
  Finally someone addresses the elephant in the room.
  Ha! Haha! HahahHAHAHAHA!
  
  I honestly feel very bad for poor Wilkins. He’s an old man whose master has brought in the biggest wild animal that walks and now HE has to take care of it. I hope he’s fairly compensated.
  
  Frankly, to answer the Earl’s question, I would’ve gone with a joke.
  
  “So an elephant walks into a debate and no one notices. The master asks the butler how he would bring it up to the other aristocrats, and the butler goes ‘HOLY FUCK!!’”
  
  Now take this like.
  
  Reply
5. Nick O. Lass
  
  December 16, 2022
  
  Wonderfully crafted story! I love the use of the approaching elephant as a way to build tension and increase the drama. I also enjoy the repeated use of the word elephant to repeatedly bring the implied turn of phrase back to the forefront of 0ur minds. I assume your “bomb” under the “table” was the addressing of the Mastodon in the Chamber?
  
  Reply
6. Norman Gray
  
  December 20, 2022
  
  This was fun. Although now I want a story where a room full of people are just being held hostage by a random elephant, not speaking of it for fear of provoking it. . . Right from “The elephant watched them all from the doorway”, I thought we were getting a story about some kind of villainous elephant, that attacks the moment it is spoken of, forcing a group of people to simply tolerate the ‘elephant in the room’ for fear of its wrath.
  
  ‘They never left the room. How much timed had passed, none knew. None could remember when it had started.
  
  Except for the elephant. . . The elephant never forgets.’
  
  Reply
Strong Berry

December 13, 2022

A Fight On Christmas Eve
By Strong Berry

It’s Christmas Eve. Tonight, there is a fight between a man, his mind, and death.

The man mentioned seems to be in his golden age. His name is James, and, like many people who reach his age, his is quite forgetful. Unlike many people, he is gentle, kind and knows about almost every science to a doctorate level. James also managed to live for 149 years, 80 years past the age he was supposed to die at. He achieved this with a strict daily routine of medicine and exercise, and makes a living by offering private lessons in the sciences. Today is Christmas Eve, so lessons were free.

Right now, James has just returned home. He is beginning to search for the final pill of the day to take. He has lived for so much longer than he should’ve, and relied on every step of the routine to keep him alive. In the past, James calculated that completing it even 5 minutes late would be fatal to him. But poor James’s age seemed to have got to him, because he cannot remember where he put that final pill.

It is in his left breast pocket. A green pill on red cloth, he would notice it easily if he would look straight down.

At first, James’s search is calm, but soon he is in panic. He is trying so hard to just remember where he put the damned thing! Sweat is running down his face, his hands are shaking, he is breathing hard, knowing every breath might be his last if he doesn’t find the pill. He is counting down precious seconds in his head, panicking more and more. He is searching his whole apartment, moving faster than he ever moved before, and the pill is still in his left breast pocket.

James is tired. He hasn’t found it, and there are barley 15 seconds left to live. He is thinking about his life. He is looking down to think his final thoughts when he sees the pill. “AH!” He cries. He grabs it, his hand is moving towards his mouth…

Reply
1. Iosef Paramonov
  
  December 13, 2022
  
  Haha, you had me with the title. Legitimately thought there was going to be a literal fight between two people, when really it’s just a man battling with old age.
  
  This was a very funny story. I love how you interpreted the prompt as the bomb being death, with the seconds counting down towards the eternal sleep. It’s also interesting that even being effectively immortal with his routine, James still suffers from the effects of aging. A very humorous way of exploring an interesting idea.
  
  Well done!
  
  Reply
  1. Strong Berry
    
    December 14, 2022
    
    Thank you!
    
    Reply
2. Joe
  
  December 15, 2022
  
  This is everytime I’m trying not to be late for work, when I lose my glasses only to realize in the nick of time that I was already wearing them.
  
  But this was a nice read. It was simple, had a complicated character that knows damn near everything, and for a few minutes was worried about his own mortality. The face palming moment of realization was just wonderful enough to make you wonder whether or not he died with the pill just outside his mouth.
  
  I also like this because it makes me think about how this guy is 149 year old, is a genius, yet isn’t ready to die. He’s been studying, teaching and discovering his whole life that maybe he just wanted to keep doing it. I mean, I don’t know anybody who WANTS to work on Christmas Eve. So I respect him in that way.
  
  I bet even he knows how inevitable and frightening death is, especially when it’s the consequence of straying from a routine. He’s probably so smart that he could calculate how long he had to live if he kept to it, but naturally panicked when the unexpected happened.
  
  I LIKE story, so have LIKE.
  
  Reply
  1. Strong Berry
    
    December 17, 2022
    
    Thank you! I’m happy to see you enjoyed my story so much!
    
    Reply
3. C. M. Weller
  
  December 19, 2022
  
  This would be incredibly stressful for absent-minded beans like me. I like the use of present tense, here. It keeps the reader in the moment and maintains the tension regarding James’ own urgency.
  
  One question – is it necessary to tell us exactly how old he is? “He has already lived for longer than he should have” tells the audience the important parts without as many words.
  
  Show versus tell: “It is in his left breast pocket…” versus, “He looks past his left breast pocket, where the green pill stood out against red cloth…” Which is better? Up to you
  
  Reply
4. Sniperaxiom
  
  December 30, 2022
  
  Ooo good job! The opening narration was a smart move and really helped lead into the story. I like the premise of the idea too and I think it’s wicked original! The whole thing is well executed and it comes together in the ending which kinda implies James wasn’t fast enough! Honestly it would be his time to go. Good job and great story! 😀
  
  Reply
Strong Berry

December 13, 2022

Please ignore this comment, my story is above!

Reply
1. Joe
  
  December 15, 2022
  
  No
  
  Reply
Hastaw

December 13, 2022

Aaaah!

By: Hastaw

“Heya! What’s everyone staring at?” They wouldn’t answer; their mouths were open in a silent scream. One of them said,” look up.” I looked up but didn’t see anything. “What?” I said more than asked. “Not there. Here.” He moved my head in a diagonal direction, precisely 60 degrees southwest of my head’s original location.

The sky had a huge Saturn-looking orb in the distance. I felt a lurch in my stomach. “I…huuuuurgh…” was all I could manage. While I t was inching closer and closer, all I could think was,” I kinda wanna touch it.” I slowly put my hand up, to minimize the stupidity of the idea.

I felt cold and foggy all of a sudden, but that was probably due to the setting sun. If this was how I was gonna go, I was glad this was one of the last things I was to witness.

The planet was slightly backlit, and the crystalline surface cast a rainbow shimmer on the brown and white surface like oil on concrete.

I put my hand down, and the planet shifted. “Huh. Correlation or causation?” I thought to myself. I put my hand up, and it slowly started to inch away. “Well…that’s not normal.” I thought. Then, the planet rapidly darted forward, feeling like it responded to my torrent of emotions. I panicked and started flailing my arms as if to say no. To my surprise, it listened.

Everyone flocked to the middle of the neighborhood, though I wasn’t paying attention at the time. Everyone looked ready to pass out. I helped my neighbors to get home. I wasn’t sure where to go from there. I watched as the planet edged out of existence.

I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again after that incident. It’s as if someone were to put a bomb under the table, and it stopped exploding midway.

Reply
1. Lunabear
  
  December 21, 2022
  
  Hello, intrusive thoughts. Lol. This story is a fun rollercoaster, Hastaw. Your story sincerely says a lot of things that I wish to say. I’m pretty sure quite a few people would love to let every thought in their head filter out through their mouth, but we can’t reasonably do that. Well, we COULD, but I don’t think it would end quite well.
  
  I really like how the protagonist can control the planet. It gives the bomb a double meaning here. Because we are introduced to everyone else looking at the bomb and we find out through the protagonist about the bomb, then later about their ability. It’s a very fun and interesting take on the prompt.
  
  Critiques:
  
  They wouldn’t answer; their mouths were open in a silent scream. One of them said, (“L)ook up.”
  
  While (it) was inching closer and closer, all I could think was,” I kinda wanna touch it.”
  
  (‘)Huh. Correlation or causation?(‘) I thought to myself. I put my hand up, and it slowly started to inch away. (‘)Well…that’s not normal(,)(‘) I thought. (Usually, double quotations indicate speech. Singular quotations can be read easier as thoughts. However, if this is how you write, that’s completely fine. This is a suggestion from my end.)
  
  Please take these critiques with a grain of salt. They’re technical and I think will read better. Again, simply a suggestion, and if you disagree, then that is completely fine.
  
  The story was a bit fast-paced, but it’s a doomsday avoidance story, and it’s really good. Thank you very much for writing and sharing this.
  
  Reply
Faustini

December 13, 2022

To Catch Him
by Spawn of Faust

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Clock was ticking as midnight slowly approached. Single snowflake dropped down from the cloud sky. In a short while a curtain of snow covered everything that the eye could see.

I had no idea what kind of treatment I would get. Had I been nice or naughty? I had a faint idea that it did not matter.

Man in the red would certainly arrive and it was my job to catch him in the act. Coffee long gone cold was keeping me awake at my watch.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Midnight bell rang. Sound of carols had grown silent. My nerves were high strung, every little sound made my hand twitch. Something shuffled in the chimney and the sooth fell into the fireplace.

Small bat flew from the cold fireplace and circled around the room. I lifted my hand from the lever. Low silent jingle made me grasp the lever once again. There was no mistake, it was time for him to arrive.

Ding dong.

Doorbell announced someone’s presence. I wanted to ignore it, to focus on the chimney, but the guest was unrelenting and kept ringing the bell. I stood up from my resting place and opened the door.

“O Christmas tree, o Christmas tree. How lovely thy branches…” Carolers sang at my doorstep. I dropped them a few coins and returned to my place.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Minutes trickled by. Reheated coffee had been drunk a long time ago. Twitches and ticks were now everything that my body produced.

He had to arrive. He had to. It was my job to catch him.

First ray of the sun entered through the window and illuminated a single box. Wrapped box that had not been there the night before.

Reply
1. Iosef Paramonov
  
  December 13, 2022
  
  First off, love the Christmassy take on the prompt.
  
  Secondly, I love the use of onomatopoeia to add tension to the plot. The ‘ticks’ really build up the tension, while the ‘ding dong’ is just as jarring and sudden as a real doorbell would be in such a situation.
  
  Finally, I love the humor of the story. The desperate man fueled by coffee trying to catch St. Nick. The interruption by the carolers. And of course that last line.
  
  Great work, well done!
  
  Reply
2. LanaMae
  
  December 13, 2022
  
  I love this, the magic of Santa is always fun to play with, I am glad they didn’t catch Santa. I really enjoyed the tension of the ticking clock and the suspense of waiting for the man in red.
  
  I held my breath when the doorbell rang wondering if Santa had decided to ring the doorbell. My suspicion then was that he used that distraction to deliver the gift.
  
  As it continued I felt the anxiety growing in the main character their nerves stretched to the point of breaking until they saw the gift that was miraculously there.
  
  Reply
Joe

December 13, 2022

The End of A Conversation With Myself

By Joe

What does the last human do when they’re all that’s left? They would exist like any other animal would. Suicide is even an option since animals such as swans have been known to do so when their mate has passed. But the last will have a conversation with themselves before anything else. So here I go.

I wonder where you all are and if your watching the last of your kind exist for what little time they have left. As I speak aloud, are you all hearing me?

The end has come, and suddenly the earth is louder without us. I will miss you dearly, and mourn the opportunities we’ll never know. Hopefully the afterlife will tell us why we were wrong, so it can feel like we didn’t do this for nothing. I hope we’ll have the humility to take the hard lesson because the potential unity after we leave is my last hope. If we can’t achieve peace after the big test then I fear our war will go on into the divine where it shouldn’t belong. But that’s only if there is an afterlife. Our clamor of war and peace scares me, but our silence terrifies me more.

But what I really want to know is whether we’re sorry. I’m sorry for what I’ve done, and forgive those who hurt me and my loved ones. We’ve agreed on each other’s happiness but not our ways of attaining it. We’ve agreed that everyone has problems, but that became a convenient excuse to do nothing. We’ve agreed on the need for progress, but not what nor how we should progress. We were born from each other’s love and rage, and though our story went on it’s like we never turned the page. When I join you, all wish is for the answer.

So I ask one last time, are we sorry?

Reply
1. Iskritt
  
  December 14, 2022
  
  I love this, particularly on the conceptual level, and how that concept is executed. A final “conversation” at the end of everything. I love how the conversation can be interpreted as either just the person talking to themselves, accepting the end, or as the last person trying to talk to the entirety of human existence, about what we have done as a species.
  
  When I read the title, I was wondering how it would connect to the main prompt, but after reading it, I totally see it and think it was executed amazingly. The “bomb” is shown in the first few sentences at the mere, surprisingly casual, mention of suicide, followed by the “timer” of the last conversation. Additionally, the bomb never goes off, as what happens after this short conversation is left completely unknowable.
  
  Well done!
  
  Reply
2. Aracnarquista
  
  December 19, 2022
  
  Well, what can we say? We are mere steps from the abyss, looking at the edge, and yet we can’t envision the fall. That sure seems like a bomb under the table situation – and humanity keeps going on, talking about their inane games of baseball and what not. Nice to see a story that takes the concept somewhat retroactively. The bomb has exploded. Could we have taken another path?
  
  Were we, at any point, capable of it?
  
  Will we be sorry?
  
  You do know how to put the big questions there. I love that the entire piece is incredibly meditative, and when the reading ends and we are left with the reverberation of that final question… then the meditation really begins.
  
  And that small tidbit of the earth being louder without us comes back, and it seems as if at the end, with that question, then we are finally hearing something.
  
  Very powerful and surprising take for the prompt.
  
  I love it. And I’m at a loss of words to describe the effect that reading had on me – and that’s a clear sign of a powerful story.
  
  Reply
3. Marx
  
  December 28, 2022
  
  This is such an powerful take on the prompt. You do a great job of having the reader sit back and think after the piece is over. Especially with the last question. You can’t help but to wonder what the answer would be now, much less if we were in the position of the narrator.
  
  That kind of a situation would make you very introspective because what else are you going to do? And this tugs at a deep place in us because humanity seems so self destructive. I like how the narrator contemplates the afterlife, hoping that humanity doesn’t just carry its wars over there as well. It’s a very understandable worry.
  
  The bomb definitely comes across strongly in this one. Very well done!
  
  Reply
Skeleton

December 13, 2022

Deadly Orders (The Will)
By Skeleton

They were already dead, but they didn’t know it.

Zaila looked up from the grass under her boots to the three brothers—her stalwart companions—her family—with the forced laugh she had perfected. “He married half of the races in Youl’en!” Haval deeply giggled. “Three more wives and we’d have a complete set!” Haval had said the joke about their shared father, but different mother, and Zaila had only worked her way through a third of her eggs. She was behind pace.

“It would make the holidays more interesting,” snorted Yaskjer. “We have the avonis—” he motioned to himself “—a wulack—” then to Skore “—and a baru,” he completed, pointing his feathered digits towards his last, bear-like brother. “The human and rameet wives would be easy enough to con, but a dragoness?”

“He’d have better luck with a wyvern!” Haval finished. The three brothers laughed together heartily, though for Skore, that only came in the form of a light chuckle.

Zaila could not take her eyes off of the wulack warrior. For the brothers, it had only been a month since they met, but for the dragoness… even though she knew them for longer, she wouldn’t wish their fate upon anyone.

Skore met her eyes, crashing them back into the grass. “You alright, commander?” he asked quietly, but saturated with kindness.

She didn’t deserve to be called commander: she was only fifteen and it had gotten them killed. Or… will get them killed. Brutally.

“Worried about your first foray into the field as commander of Cerberus squad?” Haval boomed, easily reaching over and comforting the young girl’s shoulder. “We’ll make sure you look good for the boss man! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I lead us right into an ambush getting two of you killed, losing my arm, and spurring Eymir to lose control of the demon inside him, ending the world entirely?”

The silence was deafening for only a moment before Haval and Yaskjer burst out laughing. She looked away, hiding her terror.

When she looked back, Skore wasn’t laughing with them. He looked as if he foresaw his death.

Reply
1. Faustini
  
  December 13, 2022
  
  I enjoyed the way you wrote. You opened with pretty clear intention of what will happen, and with the prompt as it is I can see why you went this route.
  I personally had trouble keeping with who is who. level of details that the Zaila has makes me think that she can see future or time-travel at some level? I don’t know because I lack information. I understand that it is just a small part of a bigger story – I would say that it was too much information on a small place.
  I would love to get better look on the overall story to understand it more.
  
  Anyway do not get pushed away by my rant
  
  Great Job
  
  Reply