Writing Group: Beneath the Waves

Hello Deep Sea Divers and Enigma Code Crackers!

These waves are lovely, my dear. Their flow could sing me to sleep. Wait…did you see that? There! Each time the ocean throws itself onto the shore, something glints in the clouds of sand! Because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

Beneath the Waves

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

No doubt the first image this prompt conjures is ocean waves. Of sea monsters lurking beneath the waves. Of mermaids waiting to lure weary travelers—or maybe just peacefully living in their underwater city. Or perhaps it’s something more wholesome; a father might point out to his snorkeling daughter, just under the surface, shoals of colorful fish. You could write about sunken treasure waiting in a shipwreck to be uncovered. 

You could write about other bodies of water too. Monsters don’t have to only exist in the sea. The Loch Ness Monster is living(?) proof. You could write about a child on a fishing trip with their grandpa, or catching frogs beneath the surface of a lake. You could write about a bear teaching their cub to catch salmon in a river, or about pink dolphins clicking, chirping and singing in the Amazon. You could even write about frozen waves in the arctic or antarctic, and the lives of seals, polar bears, or penguins. 

But water waves aren’t the only kind of waves out there.  

What about sound waves? You could write about someone trying to decipher words in a garbled recording, or discern a voice through a voice changer. Maybe there’s a hidden message in a radio transmission. Or you could write about a teenager listening to their records backwards, trying to find satanic messages in metal songs. You could write about what it feels like to be beneath a plane breaking the sound barrier.

How about light? Our eyes can only pick up on so many waves of light. You could write about a butterfly or mantis shrimp, shaking its head at humanity for only being able to see derivatives of red, blue, and green when they can see so much more. Or you could write about radiation—the sinister nature beneath such waves as gamma and UV. 

Maybe your character is a returning hero. A great athlete or warrior parading through your capital’s street. The crowds are cheering, jumping and waving their hands. But between the flailing limbs are glances of grim faces, stiff figures. Maybe fans of the opposite club? Or someone who begrudges you the success. They are almost hidden by the cheer surrounding them. Almost. 

You could even write about supernatural or magical waves. Perhaps a character can find ley lines because they give off a type of magical wave. Or an oracle can hear voices from the future like waves through time. 

You could also write about emotional waves. Joy, anger, love, grief…especially when they’re particularly strong, can feel like they’re coming in waves, crashing over you. You could write about a character who feels overwhelmed by their own emotions. 

My challenge for you is just that: write about something other than water waves. You could write about seismic waves, string vibrations, vortices, light, radio waves, UV radiation, gravity, electromagnetic waves…to name a few. Of course I’m sure the stories about water waves will be wonderful too, but I want to see you guys get creative with this! 

I think I’m going to dive in and see what it is. Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?

—Paul, Felicia, Pearce and Kaylie

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

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

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

Rules and Guidelines

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

  1. Text and Formatting

    1. English only.
    2. Prose only, no poetry or lyrics.
    3. Use proper spelling, grammar, and syntax.
    4. Your piece must be between 250-350 words (you can use this website to see your wordcount).
    5. Use two paragraph breaks between each paragraph so that they have a proper space between them (press “enter” or “return” twice).
    6. Include a submission title and an author name (doesn’t have to be your real name). Do not include any additional symbols or flourishes in this part of your submission. Format them exactly as you see in this example, or your submission may not be eligible: Example Submission.
    7. No additional text styling (such as italics or bold text). Do not use asterisks, hyphens, or any other symbol to indicate whether text should be bold, italic, or styled in any other way. CAPS are okay, though.
  2. What to Submit

    1. Keep submissions “safe-for-work”; be sparing with sexuality, violence, and profanity.
    2. Try to focus on making your submission a single meaningful moment rather than an entire story.
    3. Write something brand new; no re-submitting past entries or pieces written for other purposes
    4. No fan fiction whatsoever. Take inspiration from whatever you’d like, but be transformative and creative with it. By submitting, you also agree that your piece does not infringe on any existing copyrights or trademarks, and you have full license to use it.
    5. Submissions must be self-contained (everything essential to understanding the piece is contained within the context of the piece itself—no mandatory reading outside the piece required. e.g., if you want to write two different pieces in the same setting or larger narrative, you cannot rely on information from one piece to fill in for the other—they must both give that context independently).
  3. Submission Rules

    1. One submission per participant.
    2. Submit your entry in a comment on this post.
    3. Submissions close at 12:00pm CST each Friday.
    4. You must like and leave a review on two other submissions to be eligible. Your reviews must be at least 50 words long, and must be left directly on the submission you are reviewing, not on another comment. If you’re submitting to the private post, feel free to leave these reviews on either the private or the public post. The two submissions you like need not be the same as the submissions you review.
    5. Be constructive and uplifting. These submissions are not for a professional market, and shouldn’t be treated as such. We do this, first and foremost, for the joy of the craft. Help other writers to feel like their work is valuable, and be considerate and gentle with critique when you offer it. Authors who leave particularly abrasive or disheartening remarks on this post will be disqualified from selection for readings.
    6. Use the same e-mail for your posts, reviews, and likes, or you may be rendered ineligible (you may change your username or author name between posts without problem, however).
    7. You may submit to either or both the public/private groups if you have access, but if you decide to submit to both, only the private group submission will be eligible.
    8. Understand that by submitting here, you are giving us permission to read your submission aloud live on stream and upload public, archived recordings of said stream to our social media platforms. You will always be credited, but only by the author name you supply as per these rules. No other links or attributions are guaranteed.

Comments on this post that aren’t submissions will be deleted, except for replies/reviews left on existing submissions.

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6 months ago

When Can I Breathe Again?

By Joe

I sank to the bottom of a kelp forest onto a bed of seagrass that brushed against me with a slight tickle. I couldn’t move and I didn’t want to. It’s a comfort I’m in desperate need of.

Because I lost something.

The pain now is unbearable. At the time of my loss there was no help to be found nor a plan to be made, hope dropped like a stone off a cliff, and no power to stop it despite all the effort. At the mercy of it all like I am to the water.

It is powerfully caging due to what its created. I’m barely concious and moving with the days. Often becoming susceptible to sadness, anger, and immobility as I try to process this new routine without them. The days I spent lying in bed made my body ache from having no will to move. I risked sociability and occupation for the sake of preserving my mental well-being, but harmed it at the same time. It’s the same when I work to preserve lying there achingly.

It’s a brutal suspension pulling me in two directions having me wonder when I will split in two.

But luckily, and I do mean luckily, I have enough reasons in the end to breathe again. I want to make something amazing before I leave. And I have people I make laugh, and they make me laugh, and they let me cry. Something others would treat like death and try so damningly hard to shake you awake so you don’t go into the light. But we all know that doesn’t help.

Despite it all I still have love and purpose in my life, as well as time and restoration. And my biggest lesson from this is that time doesn’t heal at all. It’s what comes in time. And these reasons came just in time. Even though the lesson is not a guarantee of restoration, the clarity made me feel like I could float back to the surface.

And I breathed again.

6 months ago

Hydrothala, terror of the deep
By Stryder

We all woke up to a horrifing scream,
Jake, Kait, and me saw Anna being dragged outside of the beach house by a tall figure,
We chased after the thing, desperate to save her,
But it was of no use…

We chased the creature outside, only to see it dragging Anna closer and closer to the water.
She flayed, cried and screamed for help,
I ran as fast as I could, in a desperate attempt to save her,
But before i could get to her… the monster dragged her into the waves…
She was never seen there after….

It’s been two years since and now that Jake, Kaitlyn and I are in The Predator Coalition of Hunters. We now set out on a hunt tonight,
For tonight we are hunting the demon known as Hydrothala, the demonic incarnation of Thalassophobia… and the very monster who took Anna away from us…

Watch your back Hydrothala, you’ve got a big storm coming for you…

6 months ago

What Are We Without Secrets? (A Song for: Kit)
by Lunabear (Private Repost)

“So…you’re a monster?”

Sharine stood to his full height, shadows dousing his eyes. “I am what I choose. Can you say the same, Nikita?”

Kit’s stomach roiled. “It wasn’t my choice.”

“You were turned against your will.” His face crumpled into shame. “I’m sorry.”

Her Maker’s enraged face shot through her mind. Her knees buckled.

Sharine caught her. “Are you ok?”

“I don’t know.”

Their foreheads touched. “Talking about my choice isn’t easy. How about a shower beforehand?”

Kit nodded.

“Ladies first.” Sharine bowed from the waist.

“What about clothes?”

“You can borrow some of mi–”

“It’s unbecoming for a lady to not wear dresses.”

“Fair enough. I know where to acquire some.”

He led her to the bathroom, pointing out necessary items and starting the shower. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, leaving.

Kit stripped and eased beneath the scalding spray. It was paradise.

It was difficult to fathom, having met Sharine last night. Spending most of the day with him. Perhaps it wasn’t smart, but he had kept her safe. That should count for something.

Realization dawned. She was awake…during daylight hours.

Sharine’s blood.

Kit exited the bathroom and sat on his bed.

A light knocking sounded. “Nikita? Are you decent?”

She hid beneath the comforter, leaving only her face exposed. “Yes.”

Sharine entered carrying an armful of clothing, which he placed beside her.

“Where did you get those?” Kit’s eyes roamed over the fabrics.

“A noble family of witches. Their daughter was quite fond of a topaz ring I had.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I have an extensive collection. Besides, I wanted more time with you.”

Sunlight filled her chest. Her eyes illuminated like moonbeams.

“Now, which dress?”

She chose green and dressed in the bathroom, then returned.

Sharine joined her, his arms coiling around her with intimate ease. One of his hands traveled up her back.

Kit’s knees knocked together when his palm caressed her bare skin. His touch made her shiver.

“Nikita? What are these welts on your back?” Blackness shaded his pupils.

How could she have been so careless, so inattentive? Words failed her.

Last edited 6 months ago by Lunabear
6 months ago

“Rising from the Shallows” (Aethryn Setting)

By: Arith_Winterfell

I finish making the complex sigil on the stone where the water meets the sands at the bottom of the cliffs. I can feel the warmth from the sigil as it glows brightly and then fades.

“I summon you, Andorloth who perished at sea. I invoke the power of the waters to render up your soul to those gathered here,” I invoke. Now we wait for his soul to answer.

I return to the gathered group, Andorloth’s old adventuring crew. Andorloth had been their leader, a grizzled soldier who, I was told, was swept overboard during a heavy storm at sea. He had drowned in his heavy armor and gear.

I look over the gathered. Islin, a fellow member of the Arcane College, had asked me to use my skill at necromancy to summon the spirit of their lost leader. Aralyn, a young woman who fidgeted nervously by playing with the point of a dagger. Lastly, Talin, a cleric of the Sacred Light bearing his brightly polished scalemail.

Talin frowns at me saying, “I still don’t like using necromancy to summon Andorloth’s soul.”

Islin sighs irritably, “Talin, he’s a member of the Arcane College in good standing. He’s permitted to practice his craft. We need him.”

“Not to mention this is the only way to find out the magic password to the vault,” adds Aralyn.

The group was already starting to fragment. I could see how Andorloth must have held the group together. With him gone, they were already arguing, and they would likely go their separate ways after all of this.

The others suddenly look up in shock, and I turn to see the ghostly figure at the water’s edge.

“Andorloth! What’s the password to the vault?” Aralyn blurts out.

Andorloth simply points to Talin and screams with a booming echo, “Murderer!” The agony and rage of his spirit washes over us and my spell collapses. Andorloth vanishes from our sight.

Talin’s hand goes for his mace.

Last edited 6 months ago by Arith_Winterfell
6 months ago

The water feels warm while sinking below. The sliver of lines of light danced across my skin. I brush the strands of my floating hair out of my face to stare at the infinite sky beyond. The surface under the waves reminds me of tiny fractured mirrors of the blue sky. It’s the same sky but the ocean gives a different lens.
I take in a deep breath.
With my hand I pinch my nose, holding my breath as long as I can. Sinking deeper into the cooler water. Raising my leg above the water, I tried to imagine what it would be like, what it would look like. My lungs are burning. I hear a voice. I ignored it, trying to focus on not exhaling. A shadow blocks the sunlight.

“Hey!” A loud voice screams.

I gasped in surprise and swam backwards.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Her voice softened.

“No!” I coughed. My sister waited until I stopped gasping.

“What are you doing?” She finally asked.


“Nothing?” She repeated, not believing my answer.

After a few moments of silence a smug smile appeared on her lips. “Were you imagining being a human again?”


“Well, don’t. It’s bad enough that you collect human trash they throw away! And if our dad finds it, we’re both in big trouble!” The blue fins on the side of her head flared in annoyance.

“Okay. Okay. Fine.” I mutter under my breath. “I’ll just have to hide it better.”

Norman Gray
Norman Gray
6 months ago

Pray The Water Takes You First
By Norman Gray

Drowning depths of the unknown,
The sea will never quench your thirst.
Whetted hunger, flesh from bone…
Pray the water takes you first.

Something evil beckons me.

It whispers to those born of the sea, and though I am a land dweller, my lineage can be traced back to what lurks underneath the tides…

Ever wonder where the drowned go?

Such a comforting thought to believe that nothing becomes of the dead. But what awaits below has an insatiable greed, far in excess of its appetite…

Long lost souls, breathe the water
Lighthouse leading ghosts ashore.
Singer, butcher, songs of slaughter,
Shattered hulls and broken oars.
Shipwrecked upon haunted rock;
Now the dead will share their curse.
Honored guests, a feast of flesh…
Pray the water takes you first.

I fear that Siren’s will soon part from the unmapped corners of the world, and lead men in droves like lambs to slaughter… Plundered, just as we have plundered the sea. Pulled into the waiting arms of a creature from the depths, one that laments those who live in the light.

Underwater, the smell of blood,
Travels faster than the cries.
Oceans rise into a flood,
Hidden tears below the tides…

My songs are changing. My melodies have become grim, foreboding glimpses of what calls to me from the deep. It’s all I can imagine, now.

Sometimes… I think it sees inside my mind, and it knows what I am. It knows that I do not belong. I fear that it borrows my eyes and watches the gathering crowds, so easily lulled by song… And its hunger grows.

In the darkness, gathered dead
The night has never been so long…
Man to meat, drowning dread.
Now they sing the Siren’s songs.

The naïve masses hang on my every word. They hear my haunting notes, and believe this to be a creative reinvention, rather than a premonition.

They applaud. They know not what they cheer for.

A thousand mouths, a million limbs,
Squeeze the vessels ‘til they burst.
Once it has you in its grasp…

Pray. Pray the water takes you first.

6 months ago

Fall of the castle

by Reinkarnitor

The bay was still, the moon shined beautifully, reflecting along with the stars in the sea. It was peaceful…but then…suddenly a deep roar was heard, the water started foaming and then finally parted as a monster rose from the deep. It opened its mouth with sharp fangs.

The terrifying scene was looked upon by people in a castle, which was built on a cliff, falling deep into the ocean below. They screamed and ran for their lives, but it was no use. One swing of the monsters giant arms, it’s paws set with claws as big as a tower, was enough to bring down the entire castle, and everyone with it.

It was over. The beautiful castle was no more, and the monster made a sound which almost sounded like a terrible, mocking laugh.

“Muhahaha! Puny humans, you can’t best the vampire of the sea!” Fiona laughed.
John, who sat next to her on the beach, shook his head. He looked up to the moon. When Fiona suggested to go to the beach, the boy was admittingly a bit excited. It may be a midnight swim, but that meant that nobody else was there to disturb them, so he did not really mind the time.

Soon after they were done in the water, Fiona wanted to build a sandcastle, but before it was even fully finished she tore it down again, not being happy with its size.

Well…that may have gotten a bit out of hand, because what was supposed to be some simple sandcastle building then quickly became a constant roleplay of Fiona the sea vampire, tearing down the miserable humans little castles.

“Fiona, why don’t we build a new castle, and this time you don’t break it down?”
“Hm…but I am the sea vampire!” She sneered. “Why should I not?”

John grinned at that. “Because I would like to build a castle for my vampire princess instead.”

Fiona blushed…all of a sudden all her outgoing and smug spirit were gone.

“Alright…” she whispered with a small smile. “I’ll let you build me a castle then.”

6 months ago

Sounds of the Sea

By: Iskritt

As a Merfolk, Jol’s senses were incredibly sensitive to the environment around him. Normally, the allowed him to communicate with other Merfolk across long distances and feel the movements of prey before he ever needed to see them. However, an unfortunate side effect of this was that he could always tell what was happening on the surface, no matter how far below it he was. If it was raining, he could feel the ripples created across the ocean’s surface. Dolphins jumping in an out of the water crashed into his ears just as powerfully as they crashed back into the water, and the Landfolk’s machines shoving themselves though massive amounts of water was practically sensory overload as it passed by.

Now, however, he was feeling something he never had. It had started with the approach of another machine, and Jol had prepared himself for the minutes of discomfort that would accompany its presence. But that is not what happened.

Suddenly, the machine disappeared from his senses, and was soon replaced by a constant pulse of a much weaker disturbance. While Jol was initially grateful for the relief from the machine, this different wave of sound penetrating through the water to his ears soon became just as irritating, and it wouldn’t stop. Jol sat on the ocean floor, peacefully waiting for the sound to end, but it never did.

Eventually, he decided to investigate. He swam up towards the surface, wincing as the irritation grew and grew as he drew closer to it. When he reached the surface, he saw something odd. Two Landfolk were standing in one of their machines, although it was one of the smallest ones he had seen, and moving extremely energetically as a loud noise sounded from a small device between them.

“Hey, can you stop?”

The Landfolk stopped their movements and turned towards Jol, looks of shock on their face.

“Did you hear me?”

One of them broke out of their surprise and nodded their head silently, before pain filled Jol’s senses as the machine sped away.

Jol sighed, and dove back into the Sea.

6 months ago

By: Hastaw

A little girl walked in the forest with no way in, no way out.

She could only wear the white nightgown, the only clothing she wore for who knows how long. She was dirty, but she didn’t care; the little one had friends today.

Only the whites of her eyes shone because the light brought pain. She hated the day. “Hello?” she would say. She couldn’t make herself heard, so speak a little louder they might’ve heard.

“Who’s there?” they would say. Having no way of knowing, she echoed, thinking it was a game. “Who’s there?”
The boys would scream a little louder.
She would scream a little louder.
They could hear a little giggle amidst the whispers of the wind.

She could not see, so she had found them by their screams. She only heard their footsteps running away as she screamed incoherently at them, thinking it was all part of the game.

She occasionally went into the nearby town, but no one seemed interested. She tried asking for help, but no one took her in. She saw this one man, but it gave her a sickened feeling.

She wandered in the woods once again, waiting for new friends. A wave of smells hit her nostrils. She was curious, because she never remembered a smell quite as vivid as this one.

She went into a big house, with beautiful, polished wood paneling. And a hard, shiny surface she had never seen before.

She found the source of the waft. It was soup. Right there was the man, with a big, creepy grin on his face. She remembered the boat, his hands, his voice and most importantly: his shotgun. Images poured in, tears streamed down, and knees hit the floor. “Why?” The little girl said.
“Because I’m not a good person.”
She looked at him. He looked at the shotgun.
“Pick it up.”
She saw him crying.
“I said-“
“And I said no! I don’t care.”
“You can’t even let me pay for my actions. Pathetic.”
“N-n-nooo.” She mouthed quietly to herself.

Ethan Jesse
Ethan Jesse
6 months ago

Of Oceans We Hate

By EnderEthan

Through years and through toils has the king among men slumbered below, down beneath the waves of vast seas untold. Waters, wine-black, that stretch across nations, that separate those of men, waters which swallow and spit throughout the night. It is there, beneath the waves, that the old serpent rests, who slumbers and aches against the gentle cooling wake. Each breath is of spite, every tide pulling back, and when the hour of slumber wanes and forgets, the day of the snake shall come once again.

I have seen him, this serpent, that king of the night, and know well his plight of angels and deacons. Fangs, greater still, than diamonds and stone, and coils of mass hold men by their throats. That serpent which rests above his own kin, where kingdoms and ruins are held as his domain. Never to be challenged, the serpent surely grins, in his lands without folly or breakings in time.

As men, our necks strain, to see the scraps of an empire. To see worlds, to see demons, to see fires, to see pain. But to him, that king, they are worldly, all too the same. Then what a pity we are, one which he loves all the more, as something small, something weak, some subjects for the king.

O serpent, O demon, O great king of the sea, through what power and might do ye remain underneath? What keeps you there, in the wake beneath the waves, abid of the skies, the landmarks, and the light? O, of oceans we hate, of kingdoms we fall, of serpents we know, and of angels we fear. Of those blessed, those lit, of they there above. O, what a pity to the snake, that silly little thing, who knows of great waters, but never their mass! What a pity to the people, who fear his great fangs, and what a pity to the lord who awaits their dear plight! Of feathers he’ll covet, of kingdoms he’d known, of demons he’ll stand, of oceans we’ll hate!

6 months ago

Breathe (Eularia’s Perspective)
by Curry

Do you remember the old tales of wonders? Conquering the skies, multiplying seeds to till countless fields, moving mountains – all those myths about what humanity could accomplish if people prayed to the right gods or wrote the cleanest karma record. If you were humble enough, you’d get promoted to the post of superior saviour. I always hated them.

There is no fairness in hurting, no price in suffering. My pain gets more numbing every day and I don’t have the luxury of dreaming about wonders that will never happen. Neither have you. I am the thorn in your side and we both know it. Every time something slips from my weakening grasp, you patiently gather up the pieces – but I can see the holes they pick in your heart. You’re growing weaker the stronger you need to be, lovingly wasting away for me. I always hated myself for being like this.

But there is one fairy tale I truly like: it’s about a girl who learned to breathe underwater because she befriended a fish. The only time we genuinely share one world is when being submerged by another one that we’re not born into. Life’s ironic like that. This trip right now means so much more than going for a swim, even more than a weekend of quality time spent far away from the fumes of the city.

Those soft waves can lift my dead weight from your shoulders, as they help me glide without my useless legs. Being on eye level with you. No struggling to stand because we both can drift instead. For once, the numbness in my hands is being tickled away by playful ripples while our fingers connect. In this cool embrace I can dive for my love: for you as well as myself. This is what it should feel like. Lightness, warmth, and strength – beneath the waves I can inhale the beauty of our lives. I don’t need to wait for a miracle. I have it right here.

Last edited 6 months ago by Curry
Matthew R. Wright
Matthew R. Wright
6 months ago

Into the Darkness
By Matthew R. Wright

10:00PM. 10 degrees Celsius.

Wetsuit. Regulator. Mask. BCD.

2 miles from the shoreline. 25 minutes a mile. 2 hours there and back.

I enter the water from a nearby beach. Must be alone. Must not be seen.

Result-driven. Consequences be damned. I swim towards the direction of the boat. Towards them.

Just another example of my dedication. I DO NOT HAVE TO DO THIS. Just want to prove a point.

Night provides the darkness. Waves provide the cover. I hide beneath them.

I move forwards. Stroke by stroke. Closer. Closer. The ocean is calm. But I am not.

The week’s events loop in my mind without interruption:

– Hardwork not recognised.
– Overlooked for nepotism.
– Was pruned. Long-term but low-level.
– “To cut costs” Boss says.
– Boss can “cut” his wrists.

Reach boat in under an hour. Really pushing.

I wait. I listen.

His family sleeps. It’s time.

I move onto the deck. Through to the cabins. Slowly. Silently. Step – by – step.

Hardly moving. Hardly breathing.

Find first the youngest. Sleeping alone. I ignore the others. I enter his room.

Boy is 9. Deep sleeper. I gently lift him. Keeping the covers. Keeping the heat.

Outside deck is cool. A gentle breeze. Boy remains asleep. I check my mask. Still tight.

I slip under the waves. Into the darkness.

Cold jerks him awake. Eyes wide. Tries to move. Trapped inside my grip.

30 seconds.

Fully submerged. No change to gain breath.

He struggles. He strokes. He kicks. He fights.

I remain still. I remain focused.

60 seconds.

We sink further from the surface. No light to see. No family to help.

His cries release the last of his air.

I hum a gentle tune.

90 seconds.

His stroke speed decreases. Unconscious. Respiratory arrest.

He stops moving in my arms. I let go.

No chance of revival.

120 seconds.

Boy remains in-place. Resting beneath the surface.

Point made.

I turn.

2 hours to return to shore.

No time like the present.

He took my potential.

My future.

I took his son’s.

Last edited 6 months ago by Matthew R. Wright
6 months ago

The Waves of Hatred:
By IntenseSpooks

Did you know? Somewhere in this world is a great sea whose Waters are red like blood and boiling like a witch’s cauldron. There is where all people, good or bad, go to throw their tantrums, their frustrations, and their unfilial wrath.

Children scream that they hate their parents, and parents thrash at the water, punch, scream, and curse at their problems. Adults kill at the image of their asshole bosses, the elderly murder their own younger selves due to past mistakes and all that emotion sinks deep into its scalding shores. The oppressed go there to cry and pray for their revenge and the oppressor conveniently discards his guilt and humanity, making it so all the ardent bad of the world there resides. Even the lovers fight and throw their wine bottles and lamps at this sea and there, all accumulate until the end times.

The emotions, anger, love, passion, hatred, and guilt swirl with the currents, crash with the waves and their strenuous battles create a resounding sound of growling fury… While deep within the waves something lurks… a monster that used to be ‘’human’’ but slowly changed upon bearing the emotions of an entire world.

The prince of hatred, the sea of furry in itself shall tire of the never-ending sin of humanity, not the emotional waves themselves but the fact that men choose to throw them away, to not face them and slowly let them rise as a tsunami of inevitable reckoning.

A catástrofe approaches, as a figure, rises from its boiling Waters for it is the monster we created, shaped in our own distorted image as adam was made in god’s.

Its roar is so deafening that it pierces the eardrums of heaven as the sound waves, suffering, and anguish travel the world many times over with a cacophony of screams, annihilation, and death.

That is the story of how the end of the world came to be at the hand of the beating heart of the sea that turned red with blood.

Last edited 6 months ago by IntenseSpooks
6 months ago

Decision Pending

Jynn sat in her room, reading her favorite book for the hundredth-ish time. As she expected, she couldn’t find anything now that she hadn’t read before. She had read it as a last ditch attempt to find the answer to her current predicament.

But if it wasn’t there the first hundred times…

A knock on the door broke Jynn from her thoughts.

“Jynn,” her father called from the other side of the door. “It’s morning.”

Training time.

Jynn donned her gi and walked down to the training hall. Every step, every second, she felt her impending choice drawing nearer. She hoped that, maybe today, the question wouldn’t come up.

She bowed, entered the training hall, sat in her usual spot, and began her daily meditation.

“Jynn,” her father said from his own meditative spot. “Today I want you to meditate on your birthday coming up.”

She knew she couldn’t avoid it. He had been bringing it up more and more lately. The decision.

“Father, I-”

“You know I won’t be around forever,” he began. She could almost recite it by rote now he had said it so many times. “And you have full expertise in all the forms.”

-But what if I’m supposed to learn more forms?-

-But what if someone else is more suited to the task than me?-

-But what if I’m not ready?-

-What if I never will be ready?-

These were the questions that Jynn’s mind decided to meditate on. They swirled and taunted her constantly, and waves of indecision threatened to drown her in fear.

“You don’t have to make the decision now,” her father said, attempting to comfort her. “But you can’t delay it forever.”

-I know that.-

-You already know that I know that-

-You don’t have to remind me, Dad.-

The answers taunted as much as the questions, growing and crashing over her until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

When she came out of her trance, it was afternoon. And she still didn’t have an answer.

Strong Berry
Strong Berry
6 months ago

Visiting Uncle James
By Strong Berry

If there’s anything my uncle James taught me, it’s that knowledge and imagination are not necessarily blessings, and that ignorance is not necessarily a curse. Sometimes for your own good you need to be kept in the dark, or at least in light that doesn’t allow you to see.

One afternoon, I went to visit him after school for help with my physics homework. To my surprise, the front door was open. Uncle James usually did not like to leave his house open, he always worried strangers might disturb him in his experiments and research. I went inside, and was greeted not by my uncle, but by silence. This rose suspicion in me, since Uncle James told me he would greet me when I came. An open front door, now this… Did something happen to him?

“Uncle?” I said to the room. “Uncle James?” I said again, louder. The answer didn’t come from the living room, but from below. A muffled, angry “OW!”. The basement. I rushed down the stairs, opened the basement door and saw… nothing. Again. But then I got startled by his voice. “Who-who’s there?!” The voice came from the left corner. I looked there, trying to see my uncle. “U-Uncle, it’s me, Rob. D-Don’t worry.”

“R-Rob… Rob, my boy, your uncle sure got himself in a pickle this time.” Said the left corner with sadness. I was starting to get scared. “Uncle, w-what happened to you?” The left side of the room let out a deep sigh. “You see, Rob… I decided to try and become invisible and, unfortunately, I… I succeeded.”

I was confused. Usually my uncle was sad about failed experiments, not successful ones. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I now do not reflect nor absorb any light waves visible to the human eye. This means I cannot be seen, but it also means no light can enter my eyes! Such a kind and caring uncle you got, my boy, he spared the world the ugly sight of this pathetic, foolish, utter failure of a scientist!”

Last edited 6 months ago by Strong Berry
6 months ago

Beneath the Waves, Below the Tides
by Weiss

The old Canary decelerated rapidly till, Kurt stopped the engine. Whatever Venus Intergalactical says about their products, this tin can won’t hold together a single ride more.

He jumped on the cold rocks of the surface, and opened his luggage module. Checked with the map. Figured he was at the right place. Finally turned his back, and to his gaze opened a vast monotonous field, same colour as the rocks Kurt stood on. But there was a difference. It was moving. A giant desert full of sand waves, constantly shifting, spinning and spiraling. Kurt’s eyes laid upon the dunes sneaking around treacherously, waving back and forth, almost reaching his feet.

He was there to find atrenium. Others said huge vein lies in a complex system of caves beneath this sandsea. Kurt’s Explorer’s license gave him certain responsibilities.

As if to spite him, Kurt’s contemplations upon this wonder of Venusian nature were interrupted. His Canary started automatically unpacking the luggage. He quickly pushed himself into a diving suit – which also didn’t seem that trustworthy. After gearing up, he approached the very rim of the flowing sands. Next moment Kurt spotted something. He squinted. Sure enough – a small sandshark was drilling through the masses of desert hills.

Kurt let the animal approach. Sandsharks don’t attack humans. In fact, they never leave the depths of this place. Why did this one change its mind?

Minutes after, the answer to this question became apparent. Kurt noticed a piece of glass in the sandshark’s jaw. He kneeled, caught the poor thing and gently removed it – it was clearly stuck, making the life of this creature much more difficult.

To Kurt’s surprise, the glass in his hand had a shape of a bottle. Like one from Venus-Cola, or Pepsi-Mars. He removed a lid. A small piece of parchment fell on his glove. The writing was unclear – Kurt couldn’t even say for sure what language is this. He was certain about one thing – whoever wrote this message – needed help.

Kurt quickly pulled on his mask, turned on his night vision, and dove after the sandshark.

6 months ago

By Chrono

The things we take for granted every day. A sweet smile, warm sunlight, even just fresh air. Oh how Curry missed the air. His eyes screamed in tune with his lungs before his head was pulled back above the water. There was screaming. Angry words, cruel demands. All barked at him by those silhouetted faces who stood around him.


One of the figures shook him violently. His head hurt. He looked down at the water and saw his reflection staring sullenly back at him. His face was soaked, but he could see puffiness from tears he hadn’t noticed.

“I-I don’t know what you mean… ple!–”

He was cut off by cold sea water rushing down his throat. He choked and his body gasped for air, only inhaling more brine. What did they want? His mind seemed to fade in and out. Memories of another boy. His captivating smile, that enchanting laugh, the soft smell of sea breeze and his soap. They had laid that crown to rest under the lone palm. The tree flashed before his eyes, as it had been. Leaves rustling in the wind… air. He needed air.

His head was tugged back above and he retched water.

“I-it’s on the east coast. Under a palm tree all by itself… just– let me go.”

The figure patted him on the back as harsh as he laughed. “There we are. Was that so hard?”

The group began walking east. Curry wheezed, but slowly hobbled his way towards the sunbathed shore, the other side of the island. There lay a palm tree, painfully alone. The crashing waves tore at its roots, but it stood resolute.

Nothing can stand forever, though.

Before he knew what he was doing, Curry was digging at the sand by those roots. His fingers reached something smooth and cool. He pulled loose an aquamarine circlet. He placed it upon his own head and it glowed.

Curry relished the waves of heat from the burning sun one last time.

Where once lied an island, now only the sea knows.

6 months ago

Such Things As Stars Are Made From

In the vast emptiness of space, planets fly suspended like bubbles and spin in the currents of time and tide that no man shall ever see. These little isolation chambers, like celestial terrariums, house a menagerie of the ways life triumphs over death.

But death remains, thrives even, where life has a bastion.

Here are those who try to find solace in both, those who eschew both, those who long to have both and belong to neither. The necromancers. The wizards. The people who through art or craft attempt to see those waves which time’s current casts upon these baubles of the gods.

One in particular, a woman named Oqramqoq, tried harder than most, discounting as petty belief all leaps of faith, all petitions to greater powers, all alliances with lesser. She was given a gift when she was very young: a story of meter and rhythm, of power and love. She heard that story many times throughout her early life, those decades which shape immortals, but never the same as that first. The ending was never the same, but she never forgot that last line.

—these are such things as stars are made from.

At first, she couldn’t remember how that became the final line. After years of searching, of prolonging her health, she stopped caring. Her children looked as old as she was, her grandchildren her peers, but her interest in the story matured. She began searching for older versions, things only the dead knew. She wanted the oldest version, for she thought to measure the stars by this story, to mark their path through the aeons.

She found the storyteller who had first given her this gift. He alone had added that line. Because of his gift, and despite her angry urges, she let him rest in eternity.

She moved further and further away, finding older and older tellings. Until she found, many hundreds of miles from her lands, the place where those stars lay in death. She conferred with them, took their story, and rewrote it, for these are such things as stars are made from.

6 months ago

By Kenji

The rays of sunlight touched my face. A slight warmth spread across my cheeks, quickly replaced by the cold feeling of the water surrounding me.

I can see my friend looking for me at the surface, and I smile at him. It’s probably time I swam up, he must be getting worried by now.

His face broke the surface, and looked around for a while until he saw me, and he swam down towards me.

I kept smiling at him while he swam, and then I saw two more people jump in behind him, quickly following him. A tinge of red started to trail from my head, tinting the world around me in color.

Bubbles keep floating up, and the rays of light can’t reach me anymore with the boat’s shadow cast over me. My body keeps sinking as the warmth no longer reaches me.

It’s getting pretty cold though, maybe we shouldn’t get that ice cream after all.

My eyes are feeling heavy now, and I can’t feel my arms anymore, despite seeing them to my sides. I can’t see him anymore. I can’t see anything anymore. The bubbles stop floating up, and I close my eyes. The noise around me comes to an end, the waves aren’t audible anymore, and I can’t feel the cold anymore.

I open my eyes again, and I can see his face getting closer. I guess it’s getting a bit late. I find the strength to reach my hand up as he reaches me.

You’ll get me, right? I trust you.

The last of the sun’s light gets to me, and the world turns black.

Last edited 6 months ago by Kenji
6 months ago

By maggle baggle

You are nothing. Feel nothing.

You have no mind to think. No voice to cry suffering.

Your soul awakens, and slowly you become aware.

First is a relentless pounding against your skin: pervasive and irregular. At first the feeling is reassuring, perhaps even comforting, but the incessant drumming of water on your surface soon becomes insufferable, painful. The second thing you become aware of is a crack of thunder, a massive sound that disperses outwards, desperate to reach the edge of your senses. Its last vestiges echo across your surface, still not quite gone before lighting strikes elsewhere, sending another wave of thunder rippling across your skin, expanding the world further. Third is a thunderstorm looming above you, sending down the mix of hail and rain and lightning that pounds and drums and cracks and echoes.

Finally, you become aware of yourself: you are the ocean, strong and defiant and spanning the world. The waves that are your skin continue to be abused by the storm, but your perspective snaps into something grander, larger as the echoing thunder is now insignificant against your enormity. There is, perhaps, only one thing more massive, that just barely dances at the edge of your awareness and pulls at you ever so gently, coaxing you into motion. Beneath those shifting waves are creatures, currents, and stones: your blood, veins, and bones.

And far beneath it all, trapped in a prison of slumber meant to be eternal, something waits.

You are greater than it, surely, you who spans the world, who reaches deeper than any height and whos life has surpassed every living thing. And yet, this which is trapped far beneath your surface, pressed into the core of the earth by all the force you wield, feels far greater than all you could ever fathom.

Thunder cracks.

The currents shift.

A single eye opens, violet hue swirling with rageful presence.

6 months ago

By MasaCur

Masaru went through his inventory again. About twenty arrows left. Only a couple healing potions. It was only going to be a matter of time before their foes sent another flood of combatants at their beleaguered party of adventurers.

“How are things looking, Ritsu?” Masaru asked.

“Mana’s pretty low. I’m trying to squeeze whatever recovery I can out of this, but once my energy’s done, so is my magic, and I’m not going to be able to do much.”

“Same here. Running low on ammo, running low on healing. Going to be hard to act as the team’s meat shield after that.”

Ritsu sighed. “Wait, where’s Myoni?”

“Said he was going to get food while we recovered. He should be back soon.”

“I hope so. If we get caught off guard while he’s eating…”

“Hey guys! I’m back!” Myoni announced, his voice incongruously cheerful. “How’s the situation?”

“It hasn’t changed,” Ritsu said. “We’re still waiting for the other side to launch another attack during the siege. Although, I’ve managed to get a hold of the guild to see if they can get a party to come in and break the enemy’s siege.”

“If we can hold out that long…” Masaru said with a sigh.

There was a pause as the three waited. The clink of chopsticks against china could be heard as Myoni ate.

“I have an idea!” Myoni declared. “We should just charge them.”

“That’s stupid!” Ritsu replied.

“No, they won’t expect it. If we rush them while they’re still amassing a new wave of attackers, maybe we can take them off guard, and break out of here.”

“Sounds risky,” Masaru said, trying to think over the proposal.

“You know what else is risky?” Myoni asked. “Waiting here for another attack.”

Masaru sighed. “Ritsu, you’re the strategist. Let’s at least come up with a plan to give us the best…”

Masaru was interrupted by Myoni. “Alright, let’s do this guys! Leeeeeeroy Jeeeeeenkins!” He rushed off from the camp, not waiting for the other two.

Masaru pulled his headphones off and tossed them at his keyboard. “Are you kidding me?”

6 months ago

Symphony of the world.

By Galer.

Konaju closed his eyes and sat down, concentrating on listening to the sound around him. The cacophony of nature was beautifully mixed with the artificial noise of the city in the titan they lived, making the frequency unique.

It was under these conditions that the experiment would be done, with Konaju being the test subject.

“Please concentrate further,” asked Xufernas, the consciousness of the Titan Konaju live. ” I want to discover why part of the populace can hear this strange melody, then we can reproduce it in a controlled environment.”

Konaju did as Xufernas said. He focused on going deeper than the surface sound, using his echokinesis. For a moment there was utter silence, like the world suddenly disappeared.

Then he heard a hum, similar to electricity going between the metal.

He swore there was a chime of aether itself, converting the atoms into more of the phantom matter.

Followed by a sound of a Ternier counter – or rather what was associated with it, Radiation.

In fact, that was the cue for Konaju to feel like he was entering the realm of the abstract, since this noise was man-made. Not produced by the substance itself.

And there he was in a zone where sound started to get weird>, There were several disorienting melodies and sounds that were hard to describe by any tongue, let alone conventional vernacular, and then he found it a chant.

A chant that was almost sacred, like the world itself was chiming with him. In an intimate way and just at its zenith, in a flash, he returned.

“Wow.” Konaju opened his eyes, “That was interesting.”

“What happened Konaju? What did you find?” asked the Titan in concern

“I think I found our mystery frequency,” Konaju said, ” it is something deeper than sound.”

“Hmmm. Just like before it seems not to have side effects,” Xufernas said. “W we should replicate it.”

Konaju said, “I think is going to be of your and everyone’s liking”

After all, who was he to deny the masses this worldly melody?

Certainly not him.

6 months ago

The Discovery

By: MelancholicOtaku

I don’t think we realize how mesmerizing the sea can be. My dear Ellie Oh, how I wish you could have joined me in this most splendid of nautical adventures. My grandfather used to tell me tales every night of a group of humans who evolved from land-dwelling creatures to become one with the waves.
There are those who believe that we came from the sea; my grandfather was one of those individuals. He believed that one day we were destined to return.
“Professor Nicholas, please come quick!” One of the sailors yelled out. If I remember correctly, the young lad was aboard his maiden voyage and eager to learn everything that I could tell him. I couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at his wonder and desire to absorb every bit of knowledge that he could.
“What is it, Milo?” I asked, closing my journal, waiting for whatever new discovery the young sailor wanted to show me.
“Professor, after Wells and the rest of the diving team came back, they found something new and interesting, which I think you might want to take a look at.” Milo smiled.    I nodded and motioned for the lad to show me this newly discovered treasure.
“Here, professor.”        Milo answered, giving me what looked like some type of rock. Although I took a second glance, I didn’t know exactly what I was looking at.
It seemed to be some type of underwater fragment—perhaps it belonged to an ancient temple—although I am having a bit of trouble reading what it says. I can’t quite make out these strange symbols.
“Milo, was anything else found?” I asked, still examining the precious artifact in my hand.
“Not that I know off-hand, sir, say professor, what it is.” He asked as eagerly as ever.
Looking over at the fragment slowly and carefully, I couldn’t help but wonder—a silly little theory, mind you—if the stories my grandfather used to tell me were based on lost facts that, over time, became the ingredient of a particular legend, one about a lost city deep beneath the waves.

6 months ago

By Pumpkin

I open my eyes to the sound of the sea beating violently ahead.
My gaze drifts down at my bare toes nestled in the sand.
The wind tears at my nightgown and I tremble against the cold.
As the salt water crashes down upon my feet I recoil.
My heart skips a beat.
I run back to the safety of my home.

Under the waves, she sings to me
With fiery hair and silver tongue
She visits my dreams.
She calls to me.
This is the third time this month.
Waking up at the edge of damnation.
Her pull is getting stronger.

I lock the door to my bedroom at night.
Sleep in peace for a short time.
Until I find I place the key in the same spot one too many times.

The water presses on my legs like the cold hands of death.
I look for the shore and find it behind me.
Then something grabs me, pulls me back.
I tumble and stumble down onto the shallow decline.
The sea slaps me in the face but my eyes stay fixed upon the shore.
To freedom.
I dig my fingers into sand that’s cold as snow and drag myself desperately forward
I refuse to let go.
But I do cry out as her sharp teeth sink into my ankle’s flesh.
It hurts like hell but now I do know where to find her head.
I stomp at it, again and again.
She’s nestled deeply in there but I’ll tear off my own foot if it means ever being dry again.
The smell of blood floats on the breeze
Then there’s a snap.
I drag and crawl my way to dry land.
Then home again.
Bloodied, exhausted, but alive.

But I know the war still isn’t won.
Mermaids do not look for love.
They don’t need their spouse to breathe or move.
To her, I am nothing but a pretty figurine to add to her collection.
Down in the depths where we don’t rot.
I shudder.
Then look for something to tie myself down to the bed.

Last edited 6 months ago by Pumpkin
6 months ago

Secrets of The Deep
By: ThatWeirdFish

Juan was called over to the specimen tanks one too many times for his liking. His specialty lay in engineering, not biology. Show mild interest one time…

“Have you seen anything like this?” Qui, on the other hand, was practically beaming as she waved him over.

Juan rolled his eyes from the floor, past the tank to the ceiling, before meeting her eyes. “It’s a big octopus. So?”

“Ah! But notice the texture of its skin!” She leaned close and pointed to a patch behind the animal’s eyes. “It’s got scales exactly the same as the feeder fish we were feeding it.”

“Let me get this straight, you pulled me away from critical repairs because of an alien octopus doing its thing?”

“Well, yes, but-”

Juan cut her off with an upraised hand. “Save it for your nerd clan when they get back from the reef.”

Qui’s protests withered into a moan of frustration as the lab door hissed shut in her face. She clomped to the specimen tank and picked up a tissue sample retrieval gun.

“Sorry to do this to you, but some people need more proof it seems.” She grumbled as she lifted the lid to the tank.

Without warning, a tentacle lashed out and latched onto her face. Her gun misfired, the nozzle clanging on the tank wall suddenly enough to startle the creature into letting go.

Qui staggered back shakily, pressing a hand to the painful cuts on her cheek. Her heart fell into her stomach when her eyes met the octopus’s… no… her eyes staring back at her. It took a couple disjointed smacks to shut the tank lid and lock it.

“Qui? You alright in there?” Juan called over the intercom.

“I think we should let Specimen 10 go.” Qui replied, unable to look away. “It… um… is diseased.”

“You don’t sound very confident.”

“Trust me, we…,” Qui found breathing easier the further away she walked. “We don’t need to know about everything down there.”

“That’s a first.” Juan sighed. “Do you need me to get a bucket?”


6 months ago

By: Boople

His breathing was slow enough to match the tide of the beach. A moment ago there was a glorious sunset, one to rival any painting or picture. But now that the fiery sky had passed, all that was left was the cold night, not even the stars were out yet. All there that was there was water, sand, darkness, and a poor husk of a man curled up on the beach.

As the water churned and crept its way up the beach the broken man sunk deeper and deeper into his own abyss. Each breath he fought back tears, each wave reminding him of what he lost. An ocean of regrets lay before him, and by now the corpses on his consciousness were bones lost under the tide.

If only he hadn’t started this, If only he hadn’t followed through, If only he’d paid attention on the plane, If only he’d waited, if only…

Again and again his thoughts spiraled him further down, farther away from food and life. Closer to the sea. All of the what if’s and ‘could have been’s had been torturing him for days now, and when his feet met the ocean he almost felt a bit of comfort. Maybe if he joined the plane under the water, maybe if he joined bodies being slung by the current, that might just be enough to repent. At least he wouldn’t be starving anymore, at least it would all be over.

As the hours passed and the ocean rose there was only sand to be met by the moon.

Last edited 6 months ago by Boople
6 months ago

Das U-Boot
by Shinigama
Content Warning: Suicide

Day 13:

We sink and sink… the hull wails and moans from the pain. We cannot restore the submarine’s power. Kapitänleutnant Prochnow tried to contact the surface, friend, foe, anyone, but received no response.

To think we were in safe waters…

It happened four hours ago. We noticed an unusual signal on the radar, too fast for an enemy ship, too large for a submarine. Closer it came, ignoring all of our warnings.

And then it hit us.

Metal shrieked as the freezing tentacles of the sea burst in, trying to drown us. We managed to stop the flow… but as we descend further into the abyss, I fear it won’t be long before the hull gives way completely…

Day 14:

We just now hit the bottom. The depth gauge broke long ago – who knows how deep we sit beneath the waves. Nobody responds to us – restoring power is our only option.

To think the hull has lasted this long; maybe a testament to our nation’s fine engineering.

Or maybe fate is laughing at our iron coffin of despair…

Day 17:

Tap, tap, tap…

Those three gentle taps again, echoing over the creaking of the hull. Each time they ring out, another man drops to his knees with insanity.

Obermaschinist Leder hung himself; Prochnow had to shoot Richter as his madness turned violent.

We’ve given up trying to restart the sub…

Day 20:

Tap tap tap…

They tore Prochnow to pieces, like savages. They would have ripped me apart too, had I not sealed myself in the captain’s quarters.

Tap tap tap…

They bang and cry from behind the door. The air is hot, and I feel dizzy.

Tap tap tap…

The lights just went out; I write by headlamp.

Tap tap ta-

That noise! My ears – they’re on fire!

I am thrown against the wall. The sub is rolling over and over.

Even through my bloodied ears, I hear the dreadful screams from behind the door. Hear them, as we start to sink again…

No, not sinking.

Pulled. We are being pulled deeper and deeper…

6 months ago

Probability Abyss
by Aracnarquista

At first, it was just a thought experiment. A way to try to reconcile our way of calculating the development of a quantum system through its probabilities and how the Universe really works.

Just an intellectual musing, but the philosophical questions it posed were converted into the crack from which the monstrous understanding found its way in my mind.

And now I know its truth. I see the dweller on the probability abyss in my dreams.

That’s why I don’t sleep anymore.

I don’t do much, anymore. I’m afraid of choosing. I know that doesn’t even make sense, but sense be damned, I feel the dweller feeding on abandoned realities.

It was just a thought experiment, when that door was still closed. The Copenhagen interpretation states that before the observation of a quantum system, it holds all potential states as real. The way these potential realities progress is dictated by the wave function, and when the system is measured… a path is chosen. Reality becomes defined, potentiality resolves into actuality. The wave function collapses and those universes in potential are no more.

Where do they go? What happens to them?

The lost possibilities are devoured.

At first, it came almost as a joke. Then, it became part of our common parlance. It found its way into being a possibility.

And its wave function came crashing down, bringing potentiality into actuality. The lurker beneath the wave function uncertainties is in my dreams, and I know it engorges itself with each declined possibility.

An impossible creature, devouring orphaned realities. Getting bigger with each meal. Getting realer with each collapse.

It grows.

To what end?

I dread the thought. I don’t want to know, anymore. I don’t even want to not want to know. But I have no choice, but choosing knowing, choosing wanting to know, choosing pursuing it.

And feeding that beast, the lurker, the devourer.

Each path not taken drops into the probabilistic abyss to feed the eater of un-reality. Making it more and more defined.

I’d not choose to be here when that wave function finally collapses.

Last edited 6 months ago by Aracnarquista
The Missing Link
The Missing Link
6 months ago

A Leap of Faith (Earth’s New Masters)
By: The Missing Link

The octopi intercepted the squids’ message from God. The satellite that had been signaling to the moon for as long as cephalopods knew how to receive signals was not an octopus, not a squid. It wasn’t even a nautilus. Soren didn’t know what it was. A mammal clearly, the ones from the glass frames strewn around the strange structures on the surface?

Soren wasn’t left with much time to think through this new revelation. He heard the riot before he saw it, thousands of octopi swarming around the temple. Someone had leaked the footage, and now he had to go salvage something, anything, from the fact that God was not what his people had been told for generations.

He understood them of course. If this was what God was, both them and the squids had fought and died in religious wars for nothing, bodies strewn across reef and village, left as food for the crabs.

As he swam from the building, the crowd’s chromatophores fell pale as all eyes turned in anticipation to Soren. He steeled his nerves and took on a neutral color, dancing out an elaborate message approximate to:

“My friends, I understand that you are angry. It was a shock to us all, but how sure can we be that the squids actually received this message from God?”

A protester, bright red in anger, threat markers a deep black, danced out, “Because the squids are doing the same thing over the border. We want temple to answer to its lies, now.”

Soren thought on this, color changing with frustration. “We didn’t lie to you. We were… mistaken.” He hated making those gestures, but it had to be conveyed, “I think it is time for temple to enter into a new era as we come to better understand this other intelligence in the universe, God or not.”

The reaction from the crowd was mixed.

“I think,” Soren hesitated, “I think they might be one of the predecessors, no, I’m choosing to believe it.”

Last edited 6 months ago by The Missing Link
6 months ago

I, Morgot, Refuse to Talk
By Xavier Twentyone

I have many faces that I use during the downhill of this country, one of which is Morgot.

“So… your name is Comrade Orlenko. Am I correct?”

“No, my name is Morgot.”

The commissioner looks at me with strange eyes as if I just mocked him, baffled with my words.

“You wanna play games with me tough guy?!”

“If you know my name, then why ask?”

A bodyguard that is present in the interrogation room walks fast toward me. Slaps me with a ferocity that I can’t manage to contain.

“So, let’s start again. Are you Comrade Orlenko?”


“Do you know why you are here?”

I look at him for a while, trying to think about how to respond to a hyena that helps bring this country to the ground. Officers and commissioners used to be seen as the pillar of this country’s safety. Now, they are seen as lap dogs that receive bribes and pay from The Tyrant.

“I don’t know sir.”

“Bring the others in….”

The door begins to open. Waves of people come in with a variety. There are those who side with the hyena even though they don’t look like hyenas. There are snakes, pigs, lions, and goats, who are all dressed like cops. Then, there are the prisoners, who I know very well.

“My name is Morgot, and I refuse to—” a hit from a baton instantly silenced one of the prisoners.

The one who got hit was Gary, a member of The Movement. The other one who is silent and battered is Darya, a normal friend.

“One of them snitched the information regarding your pesky Movement. The names, the hideouts, the plans… so you better confess to us!”

I knew from the beginning that I could only sit at this situation.

“Well then….”

The hyena gives signals to the other animals. They tear the prisoners apart. They smile while doing it, forming waves of wild animals that eat the prisoners beneath. I can only look at the monstrosity with pain and tears. For I, Morgot, refuse to talk for the sake of Russia.

Last edited 6 months ago by Xavier21
6 months ago

Forgotten Memories (The Will)
By Skeleton

The first time Gale had ever suggested going to the beach, it was a ploy to spend a day around Mobius without his shirt. The pretence of the trip was to celebrate Remianna’s ascension into a full Magus, and while everyone else was having fun, he would be ogling and getting inspiration for his next work.

The air was hot, the waves were mesmerizing, and the ocean waters were as blue as they were in his dreams. It would have been the perfect visit.

Would have been.

It really was sheer chance that Eymir would have the reaction that he did—or the lack thereof. It had been a few hours before anyone even realized that he had disappeared. Gale had offered to find him to keep up the ruse of this being Remianna’s day, but he was secretly livid at his brooding companion’s mischief.

Gale found him a little ways away, just around a bend in the beach. The man was staring out into the waters, the tears running down his cheeks yearning to join the hoard. The sight of his expression of stoic longing destroyed any semblance of anger Gale could have had towards him. When he approached his friend’s side, Eymir began to speak without looking to his companion.

“Do you ever feel like you’ve been somewhere a thousand times, but have never seen the place before?”

Gale did not respond. It was not the kind of question he could answer.

“It feels like I’ve seen this place—stood here for so long, staring out at the crests and falls of the waves. I feel this intense yearning to sink deep into it, and to lose myself completely in the darkness. It’s like there’s something waiting for me down there that I don’t even know I want. And yet… I’m terrified. I can’t bring myself to touch the water’s edge. It’s like I’m drowning just standing here.”

Homesickness. Gale knew the feeling immediately.

Gale stopped suggesting the beach after that; it was needlessly cruel. How could he subject homesickness to someone who’s never had a home?

6 months ago

Of Days Long Gone
By Taja DaLeen

I miss the old days. When everything was easy, and we were young, and free. Back when we didn’t have to worry about a thing, when we had time to just… be.

No one ever appreciates those times enough while they last.

We were carefree and unthinking, diving head first into the things we wanted to do and swimming with ripples of emotions, only ever living for the moment. We ran through forests and fields, climbed the highest trees and slept under the starlit sky.

How I miss those days.

And how I miss you.

The way you laughed, the way you danced through life and never failed to find joy in everything, always going with the flow, it is all engraved into my memory.

How we used to lay in fields of corn, watching it sway gently in the breeze, chasing our troubles away like rolling waves. Telling them to just move on. Just like the clouds that would come and go, nothing really mattered except for the two of us.

How the tides have turned.

It was only ever us in this little world, this small ocean of corn that shielded us from everything else, making sure we could just enjoy the company of the other.

Oh, and we loved every second of it. We could just lie there for hours on end, holding hands and caressing each other’s hair, gazing into our eyes, listening to the sound of our breaths and heartbeats, tasting each other’s lips…

Nothing else was important beneath the rolling pillars of corn back then.

But now you are gone, and with you those times of innocent wonder and joy. No more starry skies and golden waves. And they won’t ever come back.

I still miss them dearly.

I still miss you.

6 months ago

The Ocean Keeps Her Secrets
by Thunder

It was hard to build up momentum underwater, but Cody managed. The old chest’s lid shattered, rotten wood filling the compartment.

Eddy pushed Cody aside, waving his hand to dispel some of the larger fragments, and caught his breath as the flashlight attached to his helmet had its beam reflected back, colored a dazzling yellow. “It’s here.”

Cody leaned over his shoulder. “That’s a lot of gold,” he said, grudgingly impressed. “You want me to get the balloons?”

“Yes- wait, not yet, with the lid smashed we’ll risk losing everything.”

“Bring a lockpick next time,” Cody said with a sigh, drifting toward the bag of equipment to see what he had to improvise with.

Eddy meanwhile picked up a handful of the coins, allowing them to trickle through his fingers back into the chest. “Beat you this time, Granddad,” he said quietly. Then he frowned, seeing a dark grey object sticking out of the gold. He pried it out, finding a sealed canister. “Huh.”

The radio crackled, Isa’s voice coming in through the static. “How’s it going guys?”

“Found it, exactly where he said it would be,” Cody answered while Eddy stared at the find.

“Great! Uh, by the way, I just got a call from our old friend Agent Clayton.”

Eddy snapped out of his reverie, spinning to lock eyes with Cody. “What the hell does he want?”

“Something about laws and taxes and also apparently we’re in danger. The usual.”

Eddy digested that for a moment. “He didn’t happen to mention why he thinks that, did he?”

“Well, apparently the laws around recovering lost gold are extremely complex and he wanted to warn us before the lawyers showed up-”

“The danger part, Isa.”

“Oh, right. He didn’t, but he sounded worried enough that he’s trying to get the coast guard out here. You guys want to come up until-”

The connection died suddenly. At the same time, the hatch they had entered slammed shut and locked.

The room lurched, and with a horrid scraping sound, the submarine began to slide down the trench wall, straight toward the bottom.

6 months ago

Hush (Chronicles of The Dragon)
By Makokam

Jonathan didn’t sleep much. It was a rare circumstance that allowed both mind and body to reach a point that allowed him to stop and rest. And even rarer still for that sleep to be nightmare free.

So when the magic forced him deeper into slumber, he didn’t fight it. The small part of him that was aware of it, welcomed being pushed into the comforting embrace of Hypnos.

He didn’t notice the “God’s-Metal” manacles and chains placed on his arms and legs. He didn’t notice being carried away.

The mask on his face was a pale ghost of an irritation, and the gas it gave him was like a warm, fluffy blanket. He sank deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

The rocking of the boat was soothing. He knew nothing of it, but its effects were still felt, chasing the last of remnants of nightmares away.

The locking of weights onto the chains went completely unnoticed in his near comatose state.

He didn’t stir as he was picked up, as he was carried, or as he was thrown over the railing.

He flinched when he hit the water, but it was a minor disturbance.

His heart beat had slowed to an absolutely sluggish ten beats per minute.

His breath was even slower.

By the time his body decided to inhale, he was quite aways down.

He flinched and snorted as the saltwater entered his nose, only to immediately and more seriously inhale.

This time some of the water reached his lungs, and he immediately coughed it out, only to once again inhale.

Water out. Water in.

He convulsed, his body not understanding why it wasn’t getting air, twisting, turning, trying to find it.

Until finally, his eyes snapped open, burning brightly in the depths like twin suns.

Last edited 6 months ago by Makokam
6 months ago

Experimenting with Powers (Frontier Universe)
By Alex Nightingale (aka Spectre)

When Selene finished her work to return to the private rooms of the inn her parents ran, she didn’t expect to run into this. She saw a swirling mass of water, hovering in the room. Light from lamps reflected off the airborne waves, making the entire room look like a scene from beneath a lake. It looked about as much water as would fit into two full kegs.

Beneath the waves she saw her younger brother, his hands outstretched towards the water, directing it with his movements.

“Asa?” Selene asked slowly. “You’ve been practicing.”

“Not successfully,” he replied. “I can’t form any complex shapes. I have the power to move water, but doing anything more than that requires more… concentration.”

Coming closer, Selene was once again reminded of just how… old her brother looked. He was thirteen, yet he looked her age. You never realized how uncannily quick powered people matured, until you saw it happen to someone who was supposed to be five years younger than you.

“Still, your hydrokinesis is coming along really well,” she said.

“Adrian has been an exceptional mentor,” Asa said, directing the water back towards the kegs.

He missed part of them and the table was doused in water. He cursed loudly and Selene hurried over with a towel.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Practice makes perfect.”

“I know. I just hoped I’d have enough control to at least hit the kegs at this point.”

Selene wiped the water away, saying nothing. Asa’s powers manifested fully less than a year ago and he was already throwing around water bubbles. She wondered if impatience was a side-effect of the rapid physical maturation.

“Are you… upset?” Asa asked. “I’m sorry about the powers.”

“It’s not that,” Selene replied and she meant it.

She’d never been jealous of Asa’s powers, even if she herself didn’t have any.

“I’m just worried,” she continued. “And… a little intimidated by how quickly you grow.”

“I… understand,” Asa said. “I’m still the same, old Asa, though.”

“No,” Selene chuckled. “You’re not.”

“No…” Asa chuckled as well. “I guess not.”

Tamela Redfin
Tamela Redfin
6 months ago

Drifting Away

By Tamela Redfin

Reagan looked into the red eyes. “So Lukas, why the beach?”

He smiled, “You felt like you could use a change of pace.”

“I did need one.” Reagan took off her cover, revealed her bikini and a few stretch marks. “I look ok, right?”

Lukas nodded. “You’re beautiful, hon. Come on, let’s get into the water.”

Reagan was beautiful. A phrase she never heard come from Edison’s lips. The marriage was a sham. No wait, a sham implied there was a level of success. It wasn’t what she wanted.

Reagan dipped her toes into the water. She watched Lukas swim out.

“Wait for me, lover boy!” She ran out.

“Lover boy?” He chuckled, splashing her. “I’ll show you a lover boy.”

“Please do.” She giggled. But then by some miracle, she heard her phone ring.

“What is it?” Lukas asked.

“It’s my phone, I’ll be back.” She got out and answered her phone.

“Where are you, Reagan?”

“Edison, I told you, I was going to the beach.”

He huffed, “You shouldn’t be a neglectful mother!”

“Try not being a dead beat, Edison.” She scoffed. She heard a whistle blow and… “LUKAS ARE YOU OKAY?”

“Who’s Lukas?” Edison sneered.

Reagan hung up and watched as Lukas fell under the water. Please don’t die.

His body was dragged out of the water safely. Reagan stared at her pale lover. “Lukas?”

One compression. Two. Three…
He coughed up some water and looked at Reagan. “I’m okay, honey, but I think this was a sign.”
“Of what?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be having an affair with you.” Lukas frowned. “I’ll take you home, okay?”
Reagan blinked back tears. “Okay Lukas.”

Dagmar Makara (dystop)
Dagmar Makara (dystop)
6 months ago

Long Wave 198.2
Dagmar Makara (dystop)

I have lingered many sleepless nights, wearily trying to decrypt the code on 198.2. Most of it’s dead air. My eyelids are heavier than a sunken galleon and my body has failed to eat.

What nemesis am I up against this time? Whoever this spy is, he’s depleted the last of my vodka. I feel he’s taunting me. I know he is.

Suddenly, the static gives way to bursts of garbled speech and my heart twists and rends. As if listening to a broadcast live from hell.

“Echo, you, you… echo”.

I desperately snatch my pen and find my most recent notebook. There is an ocean of anarchic papers strewn across the floor, each word warping and contorting. Did I drink too much? Not enough?

The white noise is interrupted again.

“Two is company, three’s a crowd, four’s a nightmare, you’re not allowed.”

Raw terror.

I am being watched, I am sure of it. He knows. He knows I’m trying to catch him.

I hear panicked, erratic breaths… only to realise moments later they’re my own. My heartbeat follows in this frenzied procession.


I glance up from my notes, mortified, as if the man on the radio is speaking directly to me.

“Useless, echo, useless, you” he menacingly declares in disturbed cacophony.

I hear the slam of the door to the safehouse behind me, and pray this demon remains on-air for the other Agent to hear.

Staring down at my ciphers, I finally begin to realise. A decryption emerges in Polygraphic 28. An epiphany. Lines intersect exquisitely.

I speak for the first time in days, with the faintest hint of a laugh.

“You’ve said too much, Agent”.

Suddenly, a voice behind me. My colleague.

“Agent?” she says, sounding puzzled.

“Yes?” I say.

“Jacob, do you know who I am? I’m your Nurse. We’ve met before. You’re not an agent, and that’s not code, it’s the weather broadcast.”

Why does she sound… worried?

Why does she sound… sincere?

“Jacob, how long have you been like this?” she remarks, glancing from the vodka to the notebooks, as the weather cruelly loops.

Dagmar Makara (dystop)
Dagmar Makara (dystop)
6 months ago

Long Wave 198.2
by Dagmar Makara (dystop)

I have lingered many sleepless nights, wearily trying to decrypt the code on 198.2. Most of it’s dead air. My eyelids are heavier than a sunken galleon and my body has failed to eat.

What nemesis am I up against this time? Whoever this spy is, he’s depleted the last of my vodka. I feel he’s taunting me. I know he is.

Suddenly, the static gives way to bursts of garbled speech and my heart twists and rends. As if listening to a broadcast live from hell.

“Echo, you, you… echo”.

I desperately snatch my pen and find my most recent notebook. There is an ocean of anarchic papers strewn across the floor, each word warping and contorting. Did I drink too much? Not enough?

The white noise is interrupted again.

“Two is company, three’s a crowd, four’s a nightmare, you’re not allowed.”

Raw terror.

I am being watched, I am sure of it. He knows. He knows I’m trying to catch him.

I hear panicked, erratic breaths… only to realise moments later they’re my own. My heartbeat follows in this frenzied procession.


I glance up from my notes, mortified, as if the man on the radio is speaking directly to me.

“Useless, echo, useless, you” he menacingly declares in disturbed cacophony.

I hear the slam of the door to the safehouse behind me, and pray this demon remains on-air for the other Agent to hear.

Staring down at my ciphers, I finally begin to realise. A decryption emerges in Polygraphic 28. An epiphany. Lines intersect exquisitely.

I speak for the first time in days, with the faintest hint of a laugh.

“You’ve said too much, Agent”.

Suddenly, a voice behind me. My colleague.

“Agent?” she says, sounding puzzled.

“Yes?” I say.

“Jacob, do you know who I am? I’m your Nurse. We’ve met before. You’re not an agent, and that’s not code, it’s the weather broadcast.”

Why does she sound… worried?

Why does she sound… sincere?

“Jacob, how long have you been like this?” she remarks, glancing from the vodka to the notebooks, as the weather cruelly loops.

C. M. Weller
6 months ago

Save the Cat [A Devil’s Tale]
C. M. Weller

It was so black out there that even a Hellkin with darksight couldn’t see very far. The wind’s banshee howling didn’t help. The occasional flash of lightning could only suggest the shape of the ship.

Only a true maniac would step out into this apocalypse of a storm. A true maniac, or someone who already knew how he was going to die. Just like he did.

That didn’t stop him from taking all possible precautions on his way to his goal. Jabbing his darts into the deck and threading rope between them. It helped him stay in close association with the ship. He was soaked to his blue skin thrice over and more by the time he reached his objective. About five coils of spare rope pinned to the deck with netting and good staples.

Where the ships’ cat had recently had a litter.

Some were debating the luck of having the Hellkin on board, and losing the ships’ cat would cement his fate in the darkest depths of the ocean floor. He could not hear the mewling inside the nest of rope, but he could feel the blobby shapes of the newborn kittens.

Move the babies, then move the mother. There was room in his gi to hold them all. At least his tail came in handy for helping him hang on to the net.

SIx. Seven. Eight kittens. Their mother tried to snatch them back, but cowered from the weather. Nine. Ten.

The ship lurched under the force of a wave. The water turned it all upside down. He kept one arm around the kittens and watched in amazement as the cat leaped into his vest to join her brood.

No time to waste, he turned back towards the safety of the hold. At least the ship had returned to a proper association with being upright.

The Captain hauled him in and tried chewing him out above the wail of the storm. He simply tipped the mess of cats out onto a handy hammock and breathed a sigh of relief as the crew changed their minds about him.

Last edited 6 months ago by C. M. Weller
6 months ago

Tale As Old As Time
By Marx

“I don’t understand…” Yelena said, wincing from her many injuries. “…why do you keep saving me?”

“To be fair, the first time wasn’t intentional.”

Yelena’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t get into semantics with me, Old One! You should have let me die! It… would’ve been a death in battle… A righteous death!”

The Old One’s eyes glowed a sinister crimson as he looked upon the wounded angel. “If you truly wanted to die, we never would have met. You wouldn’t have fled from the demons into my cave to begin with.”

Yelena’s cheeks burned as she looked away from his piercing gaze. “That… still doesn’t answer my question. Why did you save me?”

The fire in the Old One’s eyes slowly faded. “My soulmate… she was… reckless as well. She was willful. And I wasn’t able to save her in the end…”

Yelena stood up, fighting against the growing tears in her eyes. “I am NOT your soulmate! I am an angel! You are an Old One! You are a demon, just like the ones who hurt me! We are enemies! You should have killed me on sight!”

The Old One was slow to look up as Yelena summoned her sword and approached him, pointing the blade against his neck.

“You spared my life when we first met because I didn’t attack you. What will you do now, Old One?”

He looked down at her with a sigh. And then much to her horror, he slowly leaned forward, pressing his throat into the blade. The sizzling sound of demonic skin against a holy blade echoed through the cave, as did the acidic smell of burning demon flesh.

Yelena squealed, dropping her weapon as she quickly backed away. “W-why did you do that?!”

“Do you truly believe yourself to be the only one with nothing to live for? The only one who wishes to have Death’s final embrace upon them?”

Yelena glared at the Old One, initially angry at being used that way before the hypocrisy of that anger truly hit her.

“Now sit down and allow yourself to heal, foolish angel.”