Writing Group: Myths and Mommies (PRIVATE)

Hello, Gaias and Liliths! 

  Oh, are you lost my dear? What? You can’t find your mommy? Don’t worry, I can be your new mommy! Because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

Myths and Mommies

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

This prompt is quite a unique one. It was initially taken from a kind of joking play on “myths and monsters.” It’s a curious blending of the ordinary and the extraordinary that can be taken many ways. 

You could write about a mother telling a myth to their child. The sinister lullaby she sings over her child, or the prophecy that…surely couldn’t refer to them. You could write about an adult reminiscing on a myth their mother told them. Maybe as they walk through the dark forest, they remember the story their mother told of the monsters that lurk there. Sometimes myths are just bedtime stories, or old wives’ tales, but often, especially in realms of fantasy, they are laced with truth. Perhaps a myth is the last thing a child remembers their dead mother telling them, their last connection to hold tight to. Maybe a child’s mother disappears, leaving a myth as a clue to find her.

You could write about a mother who is herself a myth, like Hera, or Freya, or Echidna. You could write about Mother Earth/Nature. There are lots of benevolent mythological mothers, but there are also vindictive mothers of myth to explore as well. Or perhaps you could write about the mother of a myth. We’ve heard stories about Heracles, Kintaro, and Cù Chulainn and their heroic deeds. But we never really think about the women that birthed and/or raised them. It’s time for Alcmene, Yama-Uba, and Scathach to have their day.

You could write a story about a world where there is no such thing as mothers—be it because a tragedy happened to wipe out the women, because your characters are a part of a race that doesn’t need mothers to procreate, or because it’s some futuristic world in which babies can be grown in a lab, or else built and brought to life, like Pinocchio. 

There are many more realistic takes you could use for this prompt too. For someone who grew up without a mother, a mother is something of a myth. The child in the orphanage, dreaming of a loving home, the teen who doesn’t get along with their single father, wondering why their mother left, could work for this prompt. Or perhaps, on an even sadder note, someone who had a mother…but not a loving mother, finds the concept, the stories their classmates tell, more myth than reality. Another realistic direction you could take is to write about a woman who wants to have a child, but for whatever reason is unable to, or had her child taken away—being a mother has become a myth to her. 

I actually have two potential challenges for you this week (thanks to Pearce and Paul)!

My first is rather similar to last week’s. I challenge you to use this prompt to write about your own mom. What sort of myths can you create about her, or associate with her? You could create a myth of her defeating a dreaded screaming monster…when really it’s about unclogging your vacuum. You could write about her traversing a vast jungle to retrieve a rare flower to heal her child’s illness…when really it was that time you got sick and she had to run to the store to get you medicine. Let’s show appreciation for our moms this week!

Or, for an alternative challenge: write a myth that is ABOUT a mother. Whilst mothers may star in many myths, there are not that many where an older woman goes on a quest or adventure, chasing down a goal. Maybe it’s a mother putting herself in a narrative to lull her children to sleep, or a sneaky retelling of how she saved them from a monster long ago.

What? You want to go home to your real mom? Nonsense. I am your real mom. Just sew these buttons onto your eyes. Then we can stay together, and be happy, forever.

—Kaylie, Pearce, & Paul

Remember, this is part of our weekly Writing Group stream! Submit a little piece following the rules and guidelines below, and there’s a chance your entry will be read live on stream! In addition, we’ll discuss it for a minute and give you some feedback.

Tune into the stream this Saturday at 3:00pm CST to see if you made the cut!

The whole purpose of this is to show off the creativity of the community, while also helping each other to become better writers. Lean into that spirit! Get ready not just to share what you’ve got, but to give back to the other writers here as well.

Rules and Guidelines

We read at least five stories during each stream, two of which come from the public post, and three of which come from the much smaller private post. Submissions are randomly selected by a bot, but likes on your post will improve your chances of selection, so be sure to share your submission on social media!

  1. Text and Formatting

    1. English only.
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  2. What to Submit

    1. Keep submissions “safe-for-work”; be sparing with sexuality, violence, and profanity.
    2. Try to focus on making your submission a single meaningful moment rather than an entire story.
    3. Write something brand new; no re-submitting past entries or pieces written for other purposes
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    5. Submissions must be self-contained (everything essential to understanding the piece is contained within the context of the piece itself—no mandatory reading outside the piece required. e.g., if you want to write two different pieces in the same setting or larger narrative, you cannot rely on information from one piece to fill in for the other—they must both give that context independently).
  3. Submission Rules

    1. One submission per participant.
    2. Submit your entry in a comment on this post.
    3. Submissions close at 12:00pm CST each Friday.
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    5. Be constructive and uplifting. These submissions are not for a professional market, and shouldn’t be treated as such. We do this, first and foremost, for the joy of the craft. Help other writers to feel like their work is valuable, and be considerate and gentle with critique when you offer it. Authors who leave particularly abrasive or disheartening remarks on this post will be disqualified from selection for readings.
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Comments on this post that aren’t submissions will be deleted, except for replies/reviews left on existing submissions.


Comments

39 responses to “Writing Group: Myths and Mommies (PRIVATE)”

  1. Valse Macabre
    by Alexsander Edwards

    The gloomy piano melody echoed through the ossuary’s many wings, loud enough to mask Angelov’s heavy steps.

    With his unbuttoned trench coat flowing behind him, the man did not break his stride nor blink for a moment. Skulls and bone chandeliers flew by in his march towards the source of the sound. He knew what expected him, and this time he was ready, he thought to himself, gripping the handle of his sheathed silver blade.

    The echoes grew louder, and the corridors wider, as he approached his target. He could smell it in the air, past the rot and mold. She was there, that’s all that mattered.

    Soon, the distorted shadows of skeletons and corpses gave way to a great, brightly-lit chamber. Next to an open coffin lay a grand piano, its cleanliness contrasting with the cobwebs and bones adorning the walls. Over its black and white keys loomed a tall, dark-haired woman. Finishing her song with a dark, dissonant chord, the woman stood up.

    “Ah, the prodigal son returns!” she said, walking down a short flight of stairs, a slight grin giving away the existence of a couple of sharp fangs.

    Her voice was more pleasant than Angelov remembered. He’d forgotten about her charisma, her approachability, her… love? Was he wrong in his hunt? In his resolve? Could his anger have been misguided?

    ‘No,’ he thought, shaking his head. She was messing with him. Manipulating him. That’s what she does.

    “Drop this false pretense!” he growled, revealing his own set of fangs. “I won’t fall to that bullshit again, Krystina, so either kneel and submit or pick up your sword and put up a fight!”

    Krystina yawned as she waved her hand, summoning a silver rapier from across the room. “After all your brothers fell-”

    “Your monsters are not my brothers!”

    “After every hunter failed-”

    “I’m not a pitiful hunter!”

    “You still think you can do this.”

    “You gave me decades of torment!” he yelled, pointing his blade at his former matron.

    “Oh how drab. But may it be as you wish, child. Let us dance tonight!”

  2. RVMPLSTLTSKN Avatar
    RVMPLSTLTSKN

    Stormy Children
    By RVMPLSTLTSKN (The Saga of The Deep One’s Wake)

    “I want a story, Vienas!” Mazilas cried. There was something in her tone, desire and stymied emotion, like the sound of a wave breaking on a sandbar.

    Vienas smiled and pulled the child close. “What kind of story?”

    “A good one.”

    “Aren’t they all good?”

    “Father’s are, but you tell sad stories. I don’t like sad.”

    Vienas’s smile faded. It was true, she knew, she always preferred the truth in tragedy. Epicaricacy.

    “Has he told the story of Vantandai’s child?”

    “Who is Vantandai?”

    Of course, he hadn’t. They didn’t speak of the dead gods, unless vaguely.

    “An old woman who traveled the oceans of the world.”

    “Like Juru?” Juru had been a local god, worshiped by the lower castes.

    “Yes, like Juru. Vantandai found a child on her journeys, but not her parents. The child was floating on the waves. Vantandai named her Audringas, because of her temper. Audringas traveled with her, and when they fought, Audringas would throw tantrums and spin around so fast that the water would spray up around her.”

    “Like a water spout?”

    “Yes, exactly like that.”

    “Father says that water spouts are Juru hunting for fools.” There was confusion in her tone. Vienas smiled, chiding herself for not using Juru. Small prejudices never seem to vanish.

    “Well, I prefer this story,” she said.

    “But which is true?”

    Some days it seemed even toddlers were grown and ready for the world. But Mazylas words were not what caused her heart to ache.

    “Neither. Well, neither is real and that’s not quite the same thing.” Little arms wrapped around her in a hug.

    “Why do all the good stories happen away from here?”

    Vienas frowned at the pain this time. All their stories did take place elsewhere and she worried suddenly about the effect of that trend.cc “Audringas would sometimes run away from Vantandai, but soon she would realize she was lost and in her panic, she would spin, and spin, and spin, twisting the sea and sky and all things around her, turning that water spout into a hurricane and rushing about until she found Vantandai.”

  3. Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold
    By MasaCur

    Grendel was dead.

    Grendel was not my first child. But he was still a child. He was my baby, barely an adult. And now he was killed, at the hands of humans. Humans! Those pathetic, weak creatures hiding in their halls, beating iron into weapons and armor because they didn’t have the teeth or claws, the scales or muscle, to kill with what nature gave them.

    They would pay. Tonight.

    The creatures of the land, those that were loyal to me, told me what happened. My son was not dead by the hands of their king, but a sellsword from Geatland, arrived with a company of men. Hunters, they called them. Professional monster slayers. Their leader would die last. Slowly and painfully.

    I crawled slowly to their town, the shouts and songs of celebration emerging from the great hall. Bile climbed in my throat at the thought of them holding a feast to celebrate the murder of my son. Know your place, feeble creatures. Or let me show you where you stand in the order of nature.

    I slithered closer to the human settlement, listening as the sounds of revelry died away, nestling down in the nearby forest, pressing into the mud and moss, glaring at those that I would prey upon tonight. A chilly night breeze rustled through my hair as I lay in wait.

    My mind wandered to the memory of my dead son, his arm ripped from his shoulder, pale from the loss of blood. My hatred of these humans grows; undoubtedly they have taken my son’s arm as a trophy of their triumph.

    Nearby a toad hopped tentatively forward. “Mistress,” it croaked.

    “What do you have to say?” I growled, my voice low, and menacing.

    ”The human that killed your son. I have a name.”

    “Speak, toad.”

    “His name is Beowulf of the Geats.”

    Beowulf. I felt the corners of my mouth curl up into a sneer. If I was not so filled with malice, I would wish you to make your peace tonight, because it would be the last of your miserable life.

    1. Was the ending supposed to be a plot twist/surprise reveal? I have a feeling it might’ve, but sadly I know the original story and knew how this was going to end from the start.

      Great execution, though! I’m sure at this point you can already tell how much I enjoy subversions of traditional myths and ancient tales, and this was a really cool take on the story of Beowulf.

      I do have one minor gripe though: would Grendel’s mother refer to herself and her son as monsters? I feel like she wouldn’t use the term “monster slayers” when thinking about Beowulf’s group, but maybe something with a more negative connotation towards the humans or at least something that didn’t seem to paint herself under such a negative light as the term “monster”.

      All in all, though, that’s just a minor gripe for a really cool “perspective flip” on the myth!

      1. Yeah, you may be right about the use of monster. I’m sure Grendel and his mother wouldn’t refer to themselves as such. Especially given how much contempt for humans I’ve written her having.

        As for the ending, it’s less a subversion, and more her hope/anticipation that she will find Beowulf and kill him. Which in the poem, Beowulf avoids because he spends the night in another building than the great hall, iirc.

        Thanks for the review, Eddy.

  4. Skeleton Avatar
    Skeleton

    The Nature of Nurture (The Will)
    By Skeleton

    “Get up.”

    Eymir felt the false grip upon his hair, yanking them by the roots until he rose to his feet from his knees. A gauntlet shoved his back forwards, along on his way towards torment. How long had the desert stretched out before him? How long since he had a cohesive thought?

    The Sufferer looked back to see nothing there. He was alone.

    “You don’t get to play victim here,” the voice of Roma Kine chided. “Act like my son and follow through on your conviction.”

    He laughed through dry, cracked lips quietly. “My convictions… right…”

    “It was your choice to betray the girl. It was your choice to abandon your humanity.”

    Eymir rolled his eyes at the voice in his head. Or… was it in his heart? His soul? “That’s rich coming from you. When did you ever give me a choice? Was it when you killed Bastille? Was it when you lured me into High Mountain by tormenting Remianna and Mira? Or was it when you ordered a man to torture me, instead of raising me?”

    “You needed to be tough for this—this moment that’s happening right now. You needed to have the conviction to continue and to not give up halfway through.”

    Eymir shook his head in disgust. “I don’t want to listen to your baseless faith. There is no plan. There is no hope other than Zaila. She has to kill us. There is no happy ending.”

    The desert wind blew harshly, but even then, Eymir still considered it silence compared to the grating voice of his predecessor.

    “Why are you still walking, then?”

    “Because if she kills me, then maybe she can have the life she really wants, rather than live up to a lie,” Eymir spat back. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, however.”

    “I have faith in the plan because it will give you another chance to be happy. Nothing else. You can despise me all you want, but I still love you. There is no better reason to keep having faith.”

  5. jesse fisher Avatar
    jesse fisher

    Moms are a myth
    by Jesse Fisher

    There was a story told in the home when the adults were asleep, stories of those that would love us without question. Places that would have warm beds and soft blankets to keep us warm in the night. The older kids that were still here doubted it as any adults that came were looking for certain kids. It could have been older because they wanted workers or younger to dress up as a doll to show off to their friends.

    The third snowfall season that I could remember was when I started to make plans to look for this place. A place spoken to crying children that did not know the rules about noise after the lights went out. Somewhere that could make it so I was happy. I could see it in my dreams and almost touch it before the chill of the night woke me up and I joined the huddle of other kids also trying to keep warm.

    —-

    It was the night that I would look for this place of warmth and care. I was the last to enter the room, by then many of the others had either huddled together or cared for those younger. I shut the door, no one would miss me. I noticed a loose door from the meal last night.

    I bundled a small set of supplies and a quickly made traveling cloak, and a quiet exit into the night. Travel was quicker given I’ve known these trails for the past seasons. It also meant that others knew and I must change at points but I will do this. I will find my home.

    1. Awww this story just makes you want to hug the protagonist! You definitely got across how a mother was a myth not only to them but to everyone else in the home as well which only makes the whole thing that much more heartwrenching.

      I do like it when after you read a story, you need a moment to just think and contemplate what you read and this is absolutely in that category. I’m fully in the protagonist’s cheering section!

      Very heartfelt take on the prompt!

    2. A really great concept of found home and I think the first two paragraphs are strong, but I think a little bit of editing would have benefitted the last two paragraphs.

      What was the catalyst that made the protagonist decide that was the night to leave? To decide to step out into the snow and cold where a huddle of children couldn’t even get warm seems like a big decision and there doesn’t seem to be a pushing off point.

      Also, if there are people willing to care for the younger children it seems like there is a community that would notice absence. But if they don’t care, why would they look?

      How do others know the trails? Who are the others?

      It’s a really great concept and the first two paragraphs are strong with emotion.

    3. Skeleton Avatar
      Skeleton

      I really like the wholesomeness of this story makes it all the more sad. A warm, loving place being compared to a mythical wonder only makes the reader more aware of how terrible life is for these children. When reading, I felt the same sense of warming wonder from the idea of a loving home as the children did, which is a testament to your writing. However, I don’t see where the “mommy” part of the prompt comes in. Perhaps in the myth of a loving home there could have been a goddess figure?

      Still, this was an amazing piece, Jesse! I hope to read the next one!

    4. This is very dark and yet very heartfelt. I can only hope this is a fantastical world you’re writing in, as the truth that this might actually be a thing that would happen in the real world is a hard pill to swallow and a very bitter truth to face.

      The PoV character saying that “no one would miss” them is a particularly tough line to read. I can only hope you drew inspiration not from within, but from without, as this is a very recognizable “mantra” for those with depression and trauma

      I will say, though, that the phrasing did make me stumble on occasion (I think the line “It was the night that I would look for this place…” in particular kinda caught me off-guard with its structure), but that might just be an ESL issue. Either way, good job on this one!

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

    [DM me on Discord for details!]

    1. Awww I really like this one. There’s so much going on here and I think you did a great job of describing it all in natural sounding dialogue. I might be too close to the story to be the best judge but I think it works extremely well.

      I especially love that Peter is trying to justify a world of “fun” where he just straight up murders kids when they grow up. Unapologetically. I absolutely get how it seems like a good thing from his perspective but it’s just such an obviously bad thing.

      You did an amazing job of making the conversation really awkward and uncomfortable though. Especially when the mother was brought up. Actually cringed a bit, but I did love the sweetness of Hook’s answer. And how he didn’t seem to be taking the “fight me, dammit” bait that Peter was continually putting out the entire conversation.

      Great take on the prompt!

    2. You go Victor, call Peter out! Honestly though I think the emotion comes across well here. I could feel the moments where Victor became more withdrawn or sullen, just through the way his dialogue changed. I feel bad for Wendy though, stuck in the middle of the fight. Talk about awkward lol. Great story, I really enjoyed it!

    3. Based on the other reviews here, it seems I’m missing quite a bit of lore on your world (well, we both knew that, but there’s “missing it” and then there’s “MISSING it”, y’know?), but I think this works well as a standalone – in fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s one of your stories that do so the best (at least out of the ones I’ve read). I appreciate the use of the (I imagine) nickname “Hook” there instead of the character’s real name (in your universe) to make this story much more approachable and easy to follow.

      Hard to tell how well it reflects the “extended universe” of your stories, but it feels like it at least reflects well the personalities of these two contrasting forces (though it does make me wonder why Wendy had to be there – I do appreciate her kinda seeing through Peter’s bullshit, though).

      All in all, really enjoyable with a very “human” relationship and very natural-sounding dialogue, this was a treat that (no offense) I didn’t expect to get, considering I know F-all about what these characters are truly like in your stories.

  7. Monster and Mom
    by Kenzie (kgood202)

    A slow chill crept over my lips. It was as if Hell chose this little protection I had as its prime location to start freezing over and took particular pleasure in driving an icicle into my pounding heart. Soon saliva will fill my mouth and I will be paralyzed.

    Running water fills my ears but it does not mask the thudding that was increasing in intensity as silent tears force their way out. My feet continue to reel back trying to protect my physical self even as I mentally deteriorate. A sharp point touches my back and I wish over and over that it would impale me and make the thudding stop. In that moment, cement could not have held me as still as my feet did in my well-worn sneakers. I wanted to say something, speak up, defend myself, but my mouth clamped shut after a choked sob.

    The door burst after an unstoppable pressure was put against what I thought was an immovable object. Doors are hollow, was my only thought. A foot size hole was kicked through and the strike plate ripped from the wall.

    A hulking mass of anger shadowed the doorway, violating my safety with unkind words and unyielding hands. My mother sat behind him observing from the couch. She only glanced up to let me know I had this coming so I shouldn’t act surprised.

    I pressed myself harder into my imaginary knife, willing it to life. Ending the strife with a small sacrifice.

    1. Adrian Solorio Avatar
      Adrian Solorio

      Oh, this was really dark and sad. I loved it! This is a story of abuse and I gotta admit, it struck close to home. Our protagonist is in a situation she can’t really escape, and although she tries to physically with the door and the stopper, her abuser still gets to her. Maybe the knife she envisions is the only escape she really sees for herself. The part that struck me the most was how her mother sat on the couch and watched, blaming her for the abuse. This is so common with enablers in an abusive household. You did a great job with a difficult subject, Kenzie. Well done!

  8. Glaceon373 Avatar
    Glaceon373

    A Story to Ease a Cough
    by Carrie (Glaceon373)

    “Zoe? Sweetie?” Lydia asked, knocking on her daughter’s door. “Would you like some cold medicine?”

    “No, Mom, I’m fi—” Zoe was cut off by a coughing fit. “Okay, yes please.”

    Lydia entered her daughter’s room with a bottle of cough syrup. “At this rate, you might not be able to go to school tomorrow.”

    “But my test! I—” Another coughing fit. “I have to take it, or—”

    “Stressing yourself out won’t make it any better. Now please take this.” Lydia measured out a child’s dose of cough syrup.

    Zoe propped herself up from her pillow and swallowed the syrup with a wince. “Oh ew. Ew.”

    Lydia chuckled. “Zoe, have I ever told you about the worst thing I’ve ever eaten?”

    “No?”

    “Oh, it’s so gross, I hesitate to even say it.” Lydia recapped the medicine bottle, hiding a smirk. “I might have to wait until you’re older to tell you.”

    “Tell me tell me tell me!”

    “Alright, alright.” Lydia leaned over and whispered, “Dragon intestines.”

    “Eeeew! Wait. Dragon?!”

    “Oh, yes. Horrible texture. And the cook hadn’t made it before, so most of it was raw, too.”

    “Why’d you have to eat dragon guts, Mom?”

    “Well, the dragon was terrorizing the kingdom that some people thought I was destined to rule, so they made me kill the dragon. And I did, and then we had a big feast and it was terrible.”

    “You could’ve been a queen?” Zoe asked with a yawn.

    “Oh, no no no. Never. A lot of people thought I should’ve been, but it wasn’t for me. Now I get to live here with you and tuck you in at night.” Lydia adjusted the covers on Zoe’s bed.

    “Are you just making all this up?” Zoe asked, raising an eyebrow sassily.

    “Am I?” Lydia sassed back. “Goodnight, sweetie.”

    “Goodnight!”

    Lydia flicked off the lights and closed the door, letting out of breath that she hadn’t meant to hold.

    Lydia knew the sword that had slayed that dragon was disguised as a polka-dot umbrella in the foyer. She wondered if it still smelled just as bad as that feast.

    1. Lee Strangely Avatar
      Lee Strangely

      I can’t entirely explain why, but I really like it when there are moments in stories of character watching their own in-universe TV shows or getting a told a story. Not like the whole story is being told be someone to someone else, but just little things like this. Sometimes it adds a little culture to the world, other times it makes for fun little character moments like this. This story reminds me of the flashback in Hellboy 2 and the scene from A Christmas Story when the little brother wouldn’t eat his dinner. I’m sorry I can’t explain myself all that much here, but long story short, I like this story, the idea behind, the execution, all of it.

    2. Adrian Solorio Avatar
      Adrian Solorio

      This was a sweet little tale, Glaceon. This is the story of a mother and her child, and the child’s perception of the mother, probably as a caregiver, a sweet caring mother-figure with an adventurous past. Zoe’s excited to hear the story, of course, and Lydi’s happy to share, maybe reliving those moments. The touch at the end, with the umbrella gives us more insight into Lydia, I think, if she needed to, she’d be willing and able to fight another dragon if necessary. So, despite being a mom and giving up the crown, Lydia’s still a bad-ass! Well done, Glaceon. Thanks for sharing!

    3. I loved this one, Carrie. This was a trip. From “huh, I guess this could be true,” to, “wait is this real, or just a fable?” to, “Oh….yeah, she killed a dragon and ate its intestines.” Still, the interaction between Lydia and Zoe felt very real, and I loved the dialogue, with or without the twist. Another excellent story.

  9. Adrian Solorio Avatar
    Adrian Solorio

    Retracted for possible submission.

    1. What a beautiful piece! The scene setting was wonderfully done, and the dialogue was full of emotion. I felt like I could really feel Michele’s sadness as I was reading the piece. I also like that you never outright say what she now knows about her mother, but you also don’t really need to. The story is plenty powerful enough without it. Great job!

      1. Adrian Solorio Avatar
        Adrian Solorio

        Thanks, Rattus! Much appreciated, and I’m glad you liked it.

    2. The reflection of love is one that I am particularly interested in and you did a good job of discussing one side of love that is hard to accept. You cannot force someone to love you the way you want to be loved. I know I continue to have a difficult time accepting that concept and I feel like I can empathize with the protagonist well.

      The uncomfortable spouse who is trying to cheer you up but has no concept of the struggle going through your mind at the moment is so relatable and I think it would have benefitted the story had you indulged in that a bit more (although the awkward spouse is not the point but it’s like those things are said repeatedly while doing research, on the drive up, and now the drive back. I hope this makes sense. let me know if you need me to elaborate)

      The incorporation of a drought was good imagery, but I think it is a weak connection to the tears unless the tears are seen as nourishing. Like I said, I like the imagery, but I think it needs to be strengthened.

      1. Adrian Solorio Avatar
        Adrian Solorio

        Thanks for the comment, Kenzie! I would have liked to have a bit more dialogue, but the word count is always the X-factor. I think the connection I was going for was a sort of drought of not knowing, or not having the knowledge or love of her mother (nourishment), while at the same time the rain, when it does arrive, symbolizes a cleansing.

  10. Lee Strangely Avatar
    Lee Strangely

    Marion’s Mystery (The “Bear”)
    by Lee Strangely

    As the door flung open, Marion was met by a wall of dust and damp musk. Standing there gagging, she wondered whether Clark was too busy to maintain his own home, or simply didn’t want to. Either way, a living soul clearly hadn’t set foot there in a long time.

    Obscured photographs covered the walls, while taxidermied critters stood proud with cobweb cloaks. Dried-up rubber bands held cabinets shut. Glass cases hid beneath white blankets. Out of curiosity, she unveiled one of the cases.

    It seemed to be a skull. Quite large. Very long… Lots of teeth…

    The sight petrified Marion. So much so that her ringing phone nearly scared her to death.

    “H-hi Mom!” she answered while observing the pictures above her.

    “How are you?” her mom asked, “how’s everything going?”

    “Good. GOOD. Everything’s good… Just settling in at Clark’s house.”

    “That’s great! How is he?”

    “Fine, I guess…” Marion stared at the images, particularly a photo of her family. The bottom of the worn paper looked uneven… like if it were torn or crumbled. “I don’t know what he’s supposed to be like… I only just met him an hour ago.”

    “Don’t worry, you’ll have time to get to know each other.”

    The other pictures mostly documented Clark’s travels with other people. Each place they posed in looked more exotic than the last.

    “Speaking of your brother,” her mom asked, “is he with you?”

    “No, he stayed behind to help transport his ‘pet,’” Marion exclaimed, prying open a nearby cabinet. It was loaded with gear, tools… weapons… Though, she was more drawn to the scratched up, dorky pith helmet with a reddish-brown stain that sat in the middle of it all.

    Her mom prattled on, “Aww, Clarks got a furry friend? What is it? A dog? Cat?”

    “It-it’s… something…” She felt chills looking back at the photographs. One in particular, looked to be in a jungle. Clark stood in front of a massive crate as a dark paw poked out of it. Alongside was someone else, wearing a pith helmet. Same marks… but no stain…

    1. Adrian Solorio Avatar
      Adrian Solorio

      Well, this was creepy, Lee. I think anybody who does taxidermy might be a bit off, but that’s just me. You did a great job laying out the setting, with the skulls, photographs and dustiness. This captured the haunted, desolate vibe very well. It seems Marion shouldn’t trust Clark. There’s a weird family dynamic at play that I wish I knew a little more about. Why was this Marion’s first time meeting Clark? Did her mom know that Clark was a bit off? That word limit, though. Amirite 🙄?

    2. I’m really curious about what’s going on behind the scenes here, Lee. The nature of the taxidermy, and more importantly the subject. A large skull filled with teeth always makes me think dragons or dinosaurs. This was some incredibly good scene setting. Between the thick dust getting kicked up as soon as Marion opens the door, to the taxidermy, the mysterious photos of exotic locations, and the cabinet filled with weapons and outdoor gear. Clark certainly has some secrets that he hasn’t told his family. Anyway, thanks for the submission. Well done.

  11. The Darkmother
    by Gerrit (Rattus)

    Her palace sat at the far reaches of the Defiled Lands, the ocean churning behind it, storm clouds rumbling overhead. Nettles and brambles ran thick around the base of the building, thorny vines creeping up the brickwork so that little of the walls could be seen. The only part not covered in the overgrowth was the door, dark wood and splintered.

    Few had laid eyes on this fortress and lived to tell the tale. Fewer still had lived long enough to see its interior. The closer Narine had drawn to the castle, the more persistent the demons’ attacks had become. They were nothing but corpses behind her, now.

    Within those walls sat the mother of demons, a woman so powerful that it was said she once stood against three angels and survived. So unyielding was her vengeance that it is said she spawned thousands of monsters only to spite the Seraphim.

    Narine kicked open her door and strolled inside.

    “You have some nerve, barging into my home.” The voice was ethereal and rumbling, a flower laced with venom. “Need I remind you what happened to the last ones to invade my abode?”

    “I’m quite aware of the legends, Darkmother.” Narine stood her ground, searching for the source of the voice. “I would think someone of your reputation wouldn’t be so scared to show their face.”

    “Scared, am I?” A figure stepped forth from the darkness, human in appearance, but with an aura menacing enough to put even the devils to shame. “I’d watch your tongue, Nephilim. You may be stronger than your mortal fellows, but you are a child compared to me.”

    “I’ll not waste your time. Lucifer seeks to finish what he started. As someone who once rebelled against the Seraphim yourself, I thought you might like the chance to repay them for all they’ve done to you.”

    The Mother of Demons said nothing, merely studied Narine with an emotionless stare. Then, as she considered the opportunity presented to her, Lilith smiled.

    1. Lee Strangely Avatar
      Lee Strangely

      The build up and depiction of of the Darkmother is well done. Her movements, when she moves, etc. help add to her menacing aura. The set dressing at the very beginning was excellent, creating lots of dark and foreboding scenery and overall atmosphere.

      As for critiques:

      1.) The dialogue feels a little generic, like I’ve heard it before or that it sounds like common phrases without a lot of personal touches to make them sound more unique for the characters or moment. It isn’t bad, as it functionally works fine, it just doesn’t feel like it is anything else but functional.

      2.) More of a nitpick, but I thought the earlier descriptions would’ve worked even better if they were dispersed among the dialogue where they were relevant rather than being lumped together in at the beginning. For example, the line about the corpses would’ve worked really well if it were placed more closely to the moment when the Darkmother reminds Narine about her previous victims.

      All in all, I think this was good story. Keep on writing!

    2. jesse fisher Avatar
      jesse fisher

      I’m feeling some darksiders from this piece. Not in the tale it self but the players in it just feel like that game series. Granted Nephilim is just connected via that game, but back on point I love the flow of this. I would love to see more of this story.

    3. Adrian Solorio Avatar
      Adrian Solorio

      I like the character of the Darkmother and the setting of this world. I think it has a lot of potential with her being the mother of demons and the Lucifer tie in. On a rework you might consider rewriting the first couple paragraphs of description and backstory to flow into the narrative a bit more. Maybe the skulls of angels hang in the throne room, or the Darkmother uses one as a cup. You might also add tidbits into the dialogue exchange. Good work, though! I see the potential!

    4. Skeleton Avatar
      Skeleton

      Your description of the physical landscape, of the castle itself, and of the tonality of the area is masterful, Rattus. I really think that the ambience of your pieces are top-notch. The description and buildup to the Mother of Monsters is also very well done. However, I think that I have to agree with Lee Strangely and say that there is dissonance between the tonality of the piece and what actually happens in it. You have all this epic buildup to what is essentially Narine delivering a letter. Furthermore, I feel like you should solidify the name of the Mother of monsters. She’s introduces as the Mother of Monsters (to which I find the acronym MoM funny and fitting), then she is called Darkmother, then back to Mother of Monsters, then suddenly she is Lilith. It can come off as a little jarring, especially for a small piece like this. I would suggest sticking to 1 or 2 names to keep it simpler.

      Regardless, this was an excellent piece! Keep it up!

  12. Fol De Rol And Fiddledy Dee Fiddledy Faddledy Foodle
    By Marx

    “Okay, child. It’s late. You should sleep now.”

    “But… I don’t want to sleep…”

    “You are young, child. Sleep is very important at this age.”

    “Could you read me a bedtime story?”

    “I… suppose I could, but wouldn’t this be something better suited for your mother?”

    “But I want YOU to read it. Please? Pleeeeeeeease?”

    “You are aware that you won’t always get your way just because you-”

    “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!”

    “Oh, for the love of-! Fine! I’ll read you a story if you calm down and stop making that face!”

    “Yay! The book is over there!”

    “…the blue one?”

    “Yes! It’s my favorite!”

    “What about Snow White? Or… Sleepy Beauty? Or Hansel and Gretel? Thumbelina? The Golden Bird? The Little Mermaid? …Pretty Woman?”

    “No! No, no, no, NO! I want Cinderella!”

    “You… do know why that story resonates with you so much, yes?”

    “Because it’s the best!”

    “Because you lived it, child. I… used to be Cinderella. And our souls used to be one. So…”

    “…”

    “Child? Are you okay? Why have you stopped breathing?”

    “I’m a… PRINCESS?!”

    “We used to be, yes. Then we became Queen.”

    “Princess is better…”

    “I disagree. We had much more power as Queen.”

    “Princess… is… BETTER!”

    “If you say so, child.”

    “What was the prince like? Was he dreamy?”

    “He was very physically appealing, yes. He was also kind. Compassionate. Rather stupid, but most royals were at that time. And he performed more than adequately in our bedchamber.”

    “Performed? Like a play?”

    “Oh no, child. I meant his performance as in-…”

    “…Cindy?”

    “My apologies, child. Your mother is… quite vigorously shaking her head in the doorway. And mouthing… ‘Just… read… the… goddamn… book…’ Oh! I understand! I suppose you are quite young to hear those particular details…”

    “…how old is our soul?”

    “We are… roughly… four hundred? Give or take a decade or two.”

    “Then I’m old enough! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!”

    “I suppose that does make-… No… no, your mother does not agree… And she seems very insistent that I just read the book. I’ve seen less terrifying scowls in Hell, itself.”

    1. ArkansanDragoness Avatar
      ArkansanDragoness

      This was a cute story, and the interactions between the charaters were funny. It was also nice how uou were able to tell it all through only dialogue. So, is the kid a reincarnation of Cinderella? Or is she now more like a fairy godmother for the kid? That last line cracked me up probably more than it should have.

      1. Thank you so much! I was trying to experiment with telling a story only through dialogue and it was a pretty fun attempt. I’m happy with the result.

        As for what the situation is, its basically that Cinderella’s ‘fairy godmother’ was a demon and she sold most of her soul to get that happily ever after. But after a couple centuries she wanted it back, only to find out that a couple who lost their daughter made a deal with the same demon, and Cindy’s soul is now this little girl.

        Definitely no way to explain all that in this story lol.

    2. jesse fisher Avatar
      jesse fisher

      Oh this is so good after last week, the fact we have an old soul that lived the myth was a nice touch. I also love the whole dynamic going on here, even if one of the characters are not ‘present’ in the dialog. Honestly this whole story has been fun so far.

      1. Thank you so much! It’s so rare for me to be able to do a continuation of a previous week’s story, so it’s fun when I can dabble with that. Glad you loved the story!

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