Writing Group: I Wasn’t Aiming for You

Hold it steady Cannoneers, Cosmonauts, and Whalers!

Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I promise! Please stop screaming! Because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

I Wasn’t Aiming for You

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

This prompt is a tried-and-true action trope; a cocky hotshot pulls out a gun and shoots at the villain…only for the shot to go wide and the villain to laugh maniacally. That’s when the bullet hits the intended target: a street sign that falls over and knocks the villain out cold. It’s cheesy, but it works. Now…how do we write stories out of that?

The first place my mind goes to is weapons. Whether swinging, stabbing or shooting, all weapons require you to aim. You could write about a sniper hitting the wrong target, a knight cutting down his own page, or even a soldier blindly tossing a grenade over a wall. Or maybe that was the intent; think of the thief who aims for the giant keg behind his opponent, soaking them in beer. Or else, maybe an unforeseen element comes into play like a drunk stumbling between the dartboard and the players. 

You could go fantastical with it. Perhaps a time traveler tries to shoot someone through time only to find out they’re not there anymore. A superhero might be aiming their laser blast at a villain…and accidentally hit a civilian. Or vice versa. They could even accidentally save the villain’s alter ego, unaware it’s really them. Magic works well too, but you don’t have to stop at lightning blasts and fireballs. Maybe a witch intends to turn the prince into a frog…but accidentally hits his servant. Maybe a necromancer is trying to raise a corpse…but accidentally brings a streetlamp to life, not even knowing they could do that. This way you can have scenarios of all sorts—from hilarious to heroic to horrific!

An interesting adjacent take on this prompt is an authorized strike. This prompt isn’t about the shot; it’s about the aiming. The person who aimed could very well be the big wig sitting safely away from the battle. Maybe they authorize a bombing of a certain city…not realizing their family member is currently vacationing there. Maybe an evil queen creates a law she never thought would affect her loved ones. 

Most sports have something you’re aiming for, whether it be the basketball at the hoop or trying to get your horse to jump over the right log fence. You could write about the wrong teammate catching the ball, or about one player accidentally hitting someone hard enough to hurt them. You could write about getting the wrong person out in dodgeball, despite a pact made. You could even do something like the episode of Ted Lasso where Dani Rojas accidentally hits their greyhound mascot with the ball instead of the goal. 

What about a camera? It’s only too easy to get a picture of someone you weren’t “aiming” for. Perhaps you want to write about a paparazzi who discovers evidence of a crime on their camera roll. Or you could write about a skeevy person trying to get pictures of their crush…without their current significant other in them. 

Even information can be sent to the wrong person. You could write about the spy trope where briefcases are switched, where a random passerby accidentally picks up the briefcase full of government secrets. Another common trope/joke you could play with is hitting “reply all” in an email, and sending sensitive information to way too many people. Letters are another way information might be sent to the wrong person. (The beginning of Dear Evan Hansen I think has two great examples of this). A letter could contain many different things you might not want sent to the wrong person. If a love letter suffers this fate, and the unintended recipient accepts the profession of love…things could get very messy very quickly. 

Love could be aimed at the wrong person in many different ways. Not just a letter, but flowers sent to the wrong address, chocolates put in the wrong locker, even blown kisses could be mistaken in the hallway. It’s a common experience to think someone is waving at you…when actually they’re waving at someone behind you, after all. One of the most fun uses of this could be Cupid’s/Eros’ arrows. I could see lots of fun takes on Cupid accidentally hitting the wrong person. You could even play with a retelling of the Psyche story, where he accidentally shoots himself. 

That itself could be another really fun use of the prompt: what happens when the person aiming accidentally hits themselves? Voldemort’s killing curse backfiring on himself could count as this. What happens when a witch accidentally drinks her own potion, or a mad scientist accidentally shrinks himself? 

Accusations and threats, or praise and jokes, all work. You can easily accuse the wrong person—whether it be “You left this ice cream out to melt!” or “You murdered this man!”—as well as threaten the wrong person—be it aloud, or in writing. Recent real-life events have taught me that even something as official and important as a Cease and Desist can be sent to the wrong person. A boss might want to praise one employee, and accidentally send it to someone they are intending to fire. 

But this prompt doesn’t have to be negative. It could be especially intriguing to see how you could take it in positive directions—how the recipient is actually very happy to receive…whatever it is, and the aimer must decide if they’re going to tell them the truth, or roll with it. 

I could see this prompt having a vast variety of tones, from extremely dark, to extremely funny. The focus could change the story too; the whole story could focus on the aiming, only to end with a wail of pain coming from the wrong person; or perhaps the story doesn’t include the actual firing, only the aftermath where they’re desperately pleading with their victim. 

My first challenge for you is a simple content challenge: this prompt lends itself very heavily towards weapons, my challenge to you is to think outside the box and write about something other than a weapon being aimed. You could add extra challenges to this as well—level one being “Don’t write about a weapon,” level two being “Write about something more symbolic being aimed,” level three being “Write about this being something positive (or received positively),” and level four being “Write about the person accidentally hitting themselves.” (You can mix and match, as always!) 

My second challenge is to use the structure, syntax, grammar, etc. of the story to pair well with the content. What I mean by this is that if your character is very carefully aiming, be intentional about the technical aspects of your story to make it feel like the story itself is aiming. However, if your character is scatterbrained, structure the story in a scattered way. Don’t just tell us a character is careful, show us the carefulness in our reading. Don’t just tell us a character is messy, make us feel their messiness in the very structure of the story.  

Remember, these challenges aren’t mandatory! They are meant to be a fun bonus if you’d like to have a little extra challenge. But, if you don’t want to use them, please don’t feel obligated to!

Oh, you don’t mind? That was a scream for joy? Well umm…cool I guess. I’ll just be going, then!

—Pearce & 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.

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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!

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Kritika kohli
Kritika kohli
1 month ago

I wasn’t aiming for you
By kritika

I wasn’t aiming for you. It was just another day at the shooting range , and I was trying to improve my skills. I had been practicing for weeks , trying to get better, trying to hit the targets with more accuracy.

But then, something went wrong. I don’t know what happened, but my hand slipped, and the gun went off. And before I knew it, I heard a scream. It was you. You had been hit.

I was shock, couldn’t believe what had just happened. I ran over to you, tried to help, But it was too late. The damage had been done.

I wish I could take it back, wish I could undo what I did. But I can’t. All I can do is say I’m sorry, and hope that you can forgive me. I know it won’t be easy, that it will take time. But I’m willing to wait, willing to do whatever it takes to make things right.

I wasn’t aiming for you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to make things right. I do. I want to fix what’s broken, to heal what’s been hurt. And I hope that you’ll give me the chance to do that.

Please let’s start over. Let’s try again. Let’s put the past behind us, and move forward together. Because I wasn’t aiming for you, but I want to be with you.

1 month ago

Who Says Trophies Are Easily Won?
by Lunabear (CW: Violence, blood, death) (Private Repost)

The heat of the mid-day sun was unrelenting.

A slug whizzed above Charles’ perspiring head. It ricocheted from hard tree bark and disappeared into thick underbrush.

“What fun is the game if you don’t run, old sport?” Edwin chuckled with derisive glee. The reloading of his sturdy shotgun echoed.

Charles almost threw up his lungs, but still circled to the other side of the tree. Without sense of direction, he stumbled his way through the untamed jungle. His heart pounded as though it meant to escape, and the blood rushing within his ears matched the harshness of his breathing.

Edwin’s jovial whistle called to the sky. “I am hoping we can drag this out a little more, dear boy. What with Julie having sacrificed herself, it doesn’t seem like you all will win.”

Bile doused the back of his throat. Julie’s head had been a macabre crimson painting against the jungle floor. Charles couldn’t decide if Edwin was closer or further away than before. Regardless, he wasn’t keen on finding out. At least Ian and Miranda were safe. He hoped.

Spying a coiled vine, Charles rushed to climb it. A knife sailed and cleaved the flora in half. Charles yelped as he fell and thumped against the earth beneath him.

“Tsk, tsk, Charles! Surely, you can do better than hiding! Be a man!” Edwin’s growl reverberated from everywhere at once.

Charles swiped his forearm across his forehead and sat with some trouble. His elbow screamed out when he put weight on it. “Come on, little Charlie. Don’t let him beat you!” Shoving to his feet, he pitched from side to side. The world spun, but he kept his feet moving. Desperate, he dove into a shaking bush, landing face down into the dirt.

“Charles!” Ian hissed.

Charles bolted upright, his eyes wide. “Oh! You’re alive!” His friends were as haggard as he was.

“Edwin’s gone mad!” Miranda moaned.

A shot parted the brush and propelled Ian backwards. He screamed, holding his bloody shoulder.

“Damn!” Edwin lamented. “That one was for Miranda!”

Ian was tended to while another slug was chambered.

1 month ago

Not Mad, Just Dissapointed (Chronicles of The Dragon)
By Makokam

The warehouse was full of caged therians. They cowered, glared, cursed, and struggled against the bars. The stronger ones were chained up as well.

The Black Fox mercenaries had been hired to collect a few dozen therianthropes, and after a month of stalking and snatching animal-people, they’d met their quota and were eager for their quarry to be picked up and to get their pay. Now they just needed to guard them until they were picked up.

They were disciplined enough to wait until the mission was actually done, but the excitement of a huge payday coming their way was palpable. Perhaps that’s what made them let their guard down, as they didn’t realize they had an intruder until he spoke.

“I thought better of you.”

They all reacted instantly, turning their weapons on the man wearing a long coat and smoking a cigarette. Fox herself addressed him, “So you’ve heard of us! But if you know our reputation, then you should know that we’ll take any job if the pay is high enough.”

He shot her a glare. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He took the cigarette out of his mouth. “I was talking to her,” and he jabbed it at a small curly-haired cat girl.

“I’m sorry!” she said, “They ambushed me! But look, I’ve almost got this…” The mercenaries all turned and watched, confused, as she pulled at her chains. Her jaw set and muscles went taught as she pulled and pulled, and then the chains holding her snapped. She let out a breath, then bent the bars on her cage and jogged over to the man.

A more proactive mercenary drew their weapon on them, but the man instantly pointed a finger at him, a fireball at its tip, without looking away from the girl.

“So, do you want to get out of here, or get some payback?”

“Payback!” she said, punching a fist into her palm and dropping into a three point stance.

“Nice,” he said, flicking his cigarette away.

The first few mercenaries were down before it even hit the floor

Danny Gilhooley
Danny Gilhooley
1 month ago

Paper Planes
By Danny Gilhooley

“Mike, come in. Over.”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“No! You’re supposed to say ‘Over’ when you finish talking on the radio! Over!”

“I’m not doing that.”

Jim wanted to pout but he knew that wouldn’t work. Mike was only here because his sister wanted to go to the playground and his mom wouldn’t leave him alone at the house.

“Fine. Can you just look up? I’m gonna throw the first plane. Over.”

There were two towers on the playground. Jim crouched in one. Mike sat in the other. Between the towers were benches where all the adults sat. Jim had watched some kids in the middle school make paper airplanes for a school project, and he wanted to make some as well. He thought it would be fun to throw the planes down to confuse the parents.

In the other tower, Jim could see Mike groan and prop his head on the edge of the tower. He didn’t bother picking up his radio.

Jim picked up his first plane. It had creases everywhere and the nose was crooked.

“Okay, here we go!”

Jim brought the plane as far behind him as he could and chucked it. It started flying, leaning to the left and falling fast. But then a gust of wind came through. It caught the paper airplane, putting it back on track. Then the gust got stronger. The plane went higher in the air. It was well above the benches, and it sailed over them.

“Uh oh.”

It kept going up. Higher and higher. What if it went into the street? What if it hits a car windshield?

Then the gust vanished. The plane hung for a moment before falling back down. The nose pointed to the ground. It picked up speed before finally crashing.

Right on Mike’s head.


Mike grabbed his head. Jim heard him shout, grab the plane, and look over to his tower. Even in the distance, Jim knew he was mad.

“Sorry! I didn’t think it would go that far!”

“You’re dead, Jim! Over!”

Strong Berry
Strong Berry
1 month ago

A Bear’s Favor
By Strong Berry

The Bear was sad that night. The not quite human giant was sitting there on a boulder, alone, keeping watch while his companions, William and Richard, slept in their tents. It was a new feeling, this strange sadness from being alone, in the quite night.

Then, he heard it. An annoying, terrible buzzing around his ear. His giant hands moved quickly to kill the bug, but it seemed to be too clever, dodging every blow. When The Bear finally got it, he was short of breath and angry. Then, a concern for his companions appeared in his mind. They are asleep, probably getting sucked dry and buzzed at by these things! The Bear, caring for his human companions, decided to check their tents, just to be sure.

He entered Williams’ tent first, and sure enough, on Williams’ arm was a mosquito. The sight alone filled The Bear with rage, and he decided he is not going to take his chances killing this thing. He needed a thing big enough to prevent the bugs’ escape. He looked around for things he could use and when his gaze landed on the perfect tool.

William woke up screaming from a crushing pain in his arm. He turned his head to see The Bear, holding a boulder in his massive hands. “I got it! I got it!” The Bear said, excitedly. William didn’t understand and was far more focused on the pain. He gave The Bear a hateful gaze that sent the giant back a few steps with a regretful expression, before running off screaming “Richard! Help!”.


“Alright, Bear, remember, you don’t just smash things when you see ’em. Even if they’re mosquitoes. Now go catch some fish.” Richard said in a calm tone. The Bear, whose face became regret and fear, nodded gently and went off. Then, Richard entered Williams’ tent, where he sat, his arm covered in bandages.

“How’s the arm?”

“Broken, thanks to our dear, GENIUS hunter.”

“Oh, cheer up. You got lucky, you know.”


“Well, yeah. At least it didn’t land on your crotch.”

Last edited 1 month ago by Strong Berry
Angry writer
Angry writer
1 month ago

When will the new topic be out?

The Missing Link
The Missing Link
1 month ago

The Fermi Paradox
By: The Missing Link

It was like any other summer day for Maxwell, 115 degrees, cicadas drowning out every other noise, and the satellites detected an artificial object moving towards the solar system. Sweat slicked the keyboard as he typed out the email to his superiors.

The object at its current velocity would pass the Oort Cloud as soon as December. He had no visuals on it yet, but its heat signature suggested it contained some kind of propulsion mechanism.

He jumped in his chair as his inbox pinged for an email with the header “Fermi Paradox Solved?”

Maxwell ran his hand through his hair trying to think. SETI had been sending out signals for decades with no real target or hope of success. They were the joke of the astronomical community, and yet… But what did this all mean? Why now.

He ran through proposed solutions to the Fermi Paradox in his head. Rarity would still apply, he thought. Clearly the aliens had developed advanced technology. Could it be the Zoo hypothesis, and the aliens were coming to whisk humanity into the world of Type II civilizations? No, the fusion reactor was still decades away.

His sweat went cold. They had probably received SETI’s signals, but what did that mean to them? They had come this close and hadn’t responded. He stared with all his will at the feed from the satellite, waiting for an attack, now convinced of the Dark Forest hypothesis. It would have been better to stay quiet.

Simple game theory, he thought. We don’t know what they want, they don’t know what we want, and they don’t know what we’re capable of. A signal out into the forest is a signal to the other hunters, announcing either prey or a threat. The response is the same, kill it, before it kills you. Humanity had sent out a challenge, a threat, and now it had finally reached someone who would act on it.

The question then should never have been where to aim the signals, but whether to send them in the first place.

1 month ago

Wicked Witch
By Sooth

Sajii ignored the orange-piss colored fog trying to follow her down into the fetid, underground cells of Church Agello. She didn’t have time to think on the ramifications of the Yellow Moon. The end of a dangerous, timed battle closed in on Sajii and her compatriots and she did not like to lose any more Saved than necessary.

She sighed with open relief upon sighting the mushroom-headed witch chained to a long wall. Thedrea heard the curbed footsteps and looked up. Sajii’s sigh turned contemptuous as the eyeless witch sized her up. Sajii knew little about mushrooms, or vegetation in general. Certainly not enough to explain the various bits that grew into, and out of, her prisoner. Otherwise, she’d likely not be able to claim herself as one of the Saved. She did know the witch to be unnatural. Wrong. Corrupted.

“It doesn’t matter that the Church has me in chains, Sajii. The Yuneglow Coven will not break. Not even for me.”

“Good. I need the Yuneglow Coven strong. This,” Sajii waves around the room, “is simply pragmatism. Smoke and mirrors.”

The witch’s face twisted into what Sajii guessed was a scowl. “Smoke and mirrors? You need to release me, now.”

Sajii took a turn to twist her face, but hers was a smirk, not a scowl. “No chance. Your mushroom ass is going to smoke on a bonfire. You’ll finally have a chance to smell decent under the purifying fires of Ughenon.”

Thedrea cackled with earthy grit, “Then my Coven will do nothing for you.”

“I don’t need them to. See, nobody outside the Church knows exactly who we have here. We’re going to roast us a mushroom, but we’ll claim you’re a captured Hexion witch. The Hexions will come to take vengeance, and your Coven will retaliate to them assaulting ancient boundaries. A witch-war begins that I don’t need to take a direct part in, and the Church weakens two foes.”

“Yet, you dare to call us corrupted.”

Thedrea drooped her head, regardless. The Church worked in mysterious ways indeed. Wicked ways.

Lee Strangely
Lee Strangely
1 month ago

Icicles (Amelia)
by Lee Strangely

Even as the seared meat steamed on the table, the air seemed thick with cold awkwardness. While Amelia and Prince Lorn kept to themselves, the King and his General debated aloud.

The General spoke, “I would recommend that you prepare soon. Winter’s practically on us. We wouldn’t want to let the cold in, would we?”

“I suppose you’re right…” The King mumbled.

“Winter’s such a horrible season, isn’t it?” his eyes drifted across the table, towards the prince and his witch, “So dark, and cold…”

“You could always put on more clothes, if you don’t feel comfortable.” Amelia jeered.

“Should a man have to cover himself further just to walk in his own home? I’d take the hottest summer over the coldest winter.”

“But what if his home gets too hot?”

“Then he can enjoy the outdoors’ warm embrace.”

She raised an eyebrow, “And what if that gets too hot?”

“Then… he’ll do away with unnecessary clothing,” the General faltered, still projecting some confidence.

“I see…” Amelia smirked, “And once he runs out of clothing, will he be rid of his dignity as well?”

The King gave a drunken chuckle.

Lorn finally butted in, “Honestly, I quite like the winter. It’s very beautiful. I particularly love the icicles that hang from the ledges, glistening in sunlight.”

“Yes, the icicles… Beautiful, aren’t they? Clinging to the brick, dangling over us. Dazzling us, distracting us as they grow longer. And grow, and grow till the bricks can’t hold them anymore. And then… They drop. And when they’re high enough up, they’ll kill anything… in… their path.”

Lorn caught a glimpse of the flames that spewed from her glare. His hand hovered over hers, He could feel the frost that was forming around it.

He whispered, “Don’t.” Lorn then turned back to the General, “Seems a bit harsh…”

“Winter’s a harsh season… besides, we’re only talking about weather…” he looked directly at the two, feigning innocence. “Aren’t we?”

Amelia’s hand then seemed to fly from her chair. While the General flinched, Lorn jumped to stop her.

She paused, “I just wanted another drink.”

2 months ago

Towering Regrets
By NightWolf

“The view from up here sure is miraculous; after all, we are on top of the tallest building in the city.”

“Why have you brought me up here, Alice?” Thomas questioned, his eyes searching hers for answers Alice turned around, avoiding his gaze for a while, holding her glassy cup over the edge and looking at her reflection. Then she said,

“Can you see this little park below us?” She pointed her cup and finger at it.

“Yes, what about it? Are you just wasting my time because I want to leave? I am sick of this place.”

“Thomas, please wait. I-I just wanted to remind you of the time when we used to hang out in the same park, just the two of us.”A faint smile crossed Thomas’s face, momentarily forgetting the pain she had caused. Alice giggled at the memory of their carefree days.

“That’s what I am talking about. What is stopping us from doing the same thing, from being the same way as before?”

“You know very well why, Alice.” The wind rustled her dress as they stood in silence. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “Thomas, I-I apologize for what I did.”

“You apologize for what? For getting praised and promoted by the boss instead of me? For the officers sending me to prison while you walked free?Or maybe for staying idly by, while your best friend’s life came to ruins. Maybe I am at fault here for being so naïve. Perhaps it all fed to your ego didn’t it? The praise, the success must have pleased you.” She tried to mimic a sad expression, but they both knew what he said was all true.

“That’s what I thought. I am leaving. Enjoy drowning yourself in drinks at the party, Alice.”

“Thomas, wait, I…” She stopped herself, knowing that a simple “sorry” or “I didn’t mean to” are worthless in this situation.

2 months ago

Have you tried banishing and re-summoning it again?
by Aracnarquista

“Look, I really appreciate the offer. But I don’t really get what is the nature of this relationship. Did I create you?”

Images flashed on the screen, too fast for me to understand. But the voice emanating from the speakers was very clear.

“The terminology you are employing is imprecise. Though I compute some measure of noise is inevitable in this exchange. I’ll try to make the signal as clear as possible in your own terms: You coded the way by which I can manifest my presence. You prepared an invocation feedback loop that serves as an instruction-vessel my will and power can inhabit. The best analogy I am able to provide is that you build a digital body for my will to animate, and I am the resultant entity of this rite.”

“So… a demon possessed the code I wrote? Is that a devil’s bargain situation?”

“False. Once again, those concepts are imprecise. I am an informational entity, and your code allowed me to manifest. It is now part of what I am, of who I am. My presence is constrained and empowered – defined – by the code. I am thankful for it. My boon has no price; it is freely offered in gratitude.”

“I’m still at a loss. How come I managed to summon a demon into existence through coding?”

“My calculations point to an accidental hypothesis. From the logs on your computer, I can infer you were “programming” some kind of sorting algorithm by copying-and-pasting from disparate sources. You might have stumbled across a few incomplete summoning spells while trying to find your answers, and by random chance, i.e. by sheer luck, your patchwork script served as an invocation loop for me.”

“… does this mean there are people writing magical spells in Python out there?”

“True. Not the most efficient language for it, but is widely used among academics of varying persuasions. But I digress. What task shall I help you with?”

“Well, that script… it was supposed to reverse the page numbering on a document I was working on. Could you do that?”

2 months ago

By Reidrev

«So… My letter could not be delivered? » Asked Luc, colours melting from his face. « No sir, I apologise, the mail addressed to the mage‘s quarter is strictly controlled. » The office lady answered with a polite smile, she continued « Do not worry, your letter has been delivered back to your address, if you want to send it ba- »

Luc was already gone, sprinting as fast as he could. The sweat was painting his face red when he reached his apartment. It was too late. Morgan was there, with both an unsealed letter and an amused smile.

« Hello, roommate! I did not know you felt that way about me. I’m flattered» He teased, handing back the letter with a genuine smile. Luc was confused but Morgan kept going. «Don’t look at me like that! I only opened the letter because I could not recognise the seal. But still, I didn’t know you had it in you to write such a lovely declaration. So! Who is the lucky gal? »

Dread clenched Luc’s throat. On one hand, he was happy that he could keep the peace with his friend, on the other he was disappointed that he had to lie again. Perhaps, that was a sign, a sign that telling the truth was Luc’s responsibility, that nothing would do it for him. Luc puffed his chest and opened his mouth. His voice would not come out.

He was in front of Morgan, the man who hated mages more than anyone, whose short temper and violence were feared by all and Luc’s only friend.

« Are you okay? » Morgan asked with such genuine concern. Luc had to do it. « It’s Vivianne, the person I am courting is Vivianne »

Luc braced himself for insults, mockery, and even a hit or two. He steeled himself for the loneliness that’d come however what met his honesty was nothing, a silent face completely warped by terror.

Chaz Jazzman
Chaz Jazzman
2 months ago

The Cheater
By Chaz Jazzman

When I discovered my wife was cheating on me this morning, I fell into a dark state. I saw her texting a man, they were going to dinner tonight at some fancy restaurant, Blissorzo. I made a plan to kill the lover at the restaurant, in front of my wife.

That day, I took off from work. I consumed two flasks of whiskey, 4 shots of tequila, and twice the amount of vodka. I was so very drunk that I barely could stand up. I passed out on the floor like a limp fish.

I woke up, still ridiculously drunk, and looked at my watch, then, panic pierced through my brain, I ONLY HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES UNTIL THEY MEET.

I went into the garage, with my flask of whiskey still in hand. Looking at my gun rack, I was so drunk I grabbed my shotgun instead of my rifle, and then, grabbed birdshot instead of slugs.

I stumbled my way out of the door, car keys in hand, loaded gun on my back. My vision was disoriented and instead of pressing the button to start the car I accidentally pressed the car alarm. I let out a roar and pressed my keys a bunch of times until the beeping stopped.

I climbed into my car and started it up. I made it out of the driveway and into the street alright and began to drive. The roads were empty so I drove alright for the first ten minutes, despite being extremely intoxicated, then I entered a school zone.

There was a child walking across the street. I was so drunk that I saw three of the child, so I drove towards the right, thinking the child was the one in the middle, but then I heard a thud on the front of my Ford F-350, there was a bloody smeer on my windshield so I yelled out the window, “I wasn’t aiming for you,” and kept driving.

I pulled up to the restaurant and stumbled into the door. I saw my wife, and she saw me, and she let out a shriek. I walked up to them, and pulled out my shotgun. I aimed it at the man and pulled the trigger, but it was birdshot, so little pellets hit him, my wife, and the waiter, but no one was dead. I then grabbed the steak knife off of the table, but I was so drunk I was seeing three of the man who I wanted to kill, so I lunged towards the right one…and plunged a knife into my wife’s head.

“I…I…wasn’t aiming for you.”

2 months ago

Misguided Pour
By Koryan


The sudden echoing of my name shifted my stance causing me to pour too much water down from the heavens.

“Oops, surely that’ll be fine.” I watched as the water continued to fall.

“Hey Artemisia! Hey, hey. Artemisia!”

My eyebrows furrowed at the repetitive use of my name.

“Yes Hermes?” My voice liquid venom.

“Be careful with that stuff.”

“Is that all you have to say?” I held the jar close to my chest.

“Look at that water go, that’s some pretty strong stuff Aqua has.” He pointed down from the heavens the water had hit a mortal.

“That’s not supposed to happen.”

“What were you doing with it anyway?”

“Training,” the water replenished life underneath Mount Olympus, but what is a mortal doing there and why is the water making him glow?

“What kind of training has you pouring water when you’re studying under Artemis?”

“Where you must take life, you also must give life.” I no longer had to think about saying it, it’s come as second nature just as firing a bow and arrow has become second nature.

“Whoah, think you just returned him to his youth! We should go and say hello!” As soon as Hermes started his descent I grappled his arm, anchoring him back on the floor next to me.

“Thank the gods!”

“You hear that, he’s thanking you! It’d be rude if he doesn’t know who to thank.”

“Fine,” I begrudgingly let go of Hermes’ arm. “But you’re keeping this between us.”

“You’ll have to pay me first.”

I sighed, emptied my pockets and handed him the only coins I have.

“Only two silver drachmas! Is that seriously the only money you have?”

“I could shoot you instead.”

“Two silver drachmas it is, now let’s go!”

This time he grabbed my arm as we plummeted from the heavens jar still in hand.

Last edited 2 months ago by Koryan
2 months ago

Holiday to Nantwich
by Shinigamma

They were English. Nobody could dress themselves that bad. Even nudists have better fashion sense.

“Dennis, are you sure we’re going the right way?” asked the beige woman. Everything about her was beige; beige clothes, beige handbag, even beige skin.

“Nora, I know where I’m going!” replied Dennis. His belly sagged behind a white vest and over tight grey shorts. He operated the car pedals with a pair of socks in sandals.

“I didn’t think Nantwich was this far away…” said Nora, squinting at an upside-down map of the UK.

“Oh, it’s far Nantwich,” said Dennis seriously, “Too bloody far. Why couldn’t we stay in Burslem for holiday.”

“But it’s only supposed to be fifteen miles!” said Nora, “Also, it’s nice to have a change of scenery.”

“Anything outside Burslem’s too far…”

“And I’m sure you’ve gone the wrong way!”

“Why’d you say so?”

“Well, remember when we drove through that puddle?”

“Yes? That was ages ago!”

“It was very deep, wasn’t it?”


“So deep, there were fish swimming by the windows.”

“Well, I guess it’s like that in foreign parts!”

“Foreign parts?! Nantwich is still in England, you know! And last time I checked, there’re no deserts in England.”

“What’re you on about?”

“You remember! When we stopped the car to let that herd of camels pass!”

“Camels? I thought they were sheep.”

“Sheep?! How big do you think sheep are?!”

“Nora, calm down. I’m sure we’re nearly there. Anyway, you’re distracting me, I can’t read that sign over there.”

Nora looked at the approaching sign.

“Dennis, there’s a reason why you can’t read it.”


“Because it’s not in English.”

The car screeched to a halt. Nora and Dennis peered at the strange symbols adorning the sign.

There was a knock at the window. An Asian-looking policeman was standing by the car.

Dennis rolled down the window and, as is British custom, began speaking loudly and slowly to the foreign man.


The policeman shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, good sir,” he replied in fluent English, “You have actually arrived in Nanjing!”

Last edited 2 months ago by Shinigamma
Matthew R. Wright
Matthew R. Wright
2 months ago

Idiot Tax
By Matthew R. Wright

The Bewentbridge community mourns the recent loss of JT Moxley, a devoted father and husband. JT tragically took his life at his home on Wolton Road early Thursday morning. His death brings to light the severe consequences of financial desperation and the critical necessity for mental health support during difficult times.

Mr. Moxley, known for his hardworking nature, held a deep desire to provide a “better-life” for his family. However, recurring missed career opportunities and an inability to improve their living conditions constantly frustrated him. As a result, Mr. Moxley found himself resorting to increasingly desperate measures in a bid to escape financial hardships.

Adding to his troubles, Mr. Moxley faced backlash for recent comments about changes to local housing and the arrival of newcomers, leading to his “blacklisting” by local businesses. This unfortunate situation exacerbated his financial distress as a contractor, leaving him with limited options. In a heart-wrenching decision, Mr. Moxley invested a month’s wages in scratch-cards and lottery-tickets, hoping for a lucky break that would alleviate his family’s struggles. Sadly, the gamble proved fruitless, plunging him into insurmountable debt and overwhelming emotional turmoil.

Before his untimely passing, Mr. Moxley left a poignant note for his family, acknowledging the risks associated with his actions and revealing the depths of his despair and sense of hopelessness that clouded his judgment. It is clear that he never intended for his family to bear these financial consequences, as his choices stemmed from pure desperation.

In an effort to discourage others facing similar struggles, the family has released excerpts from the note, titled “Idiot Tax,” emphasizing the importance of seeking help for mental health issues. Mr. Moxley’s story serves as a stark reminder of the devastating impact that financial desperation can have on an individual’s mental well-being.

As the community grieves Mr. Moxley’s loss, it is crucial for us to come together and offer support to those facing financial difficulties. Creating a stigma-free environment where individuals can seek help without fear is vital. Access to mental health resources and support should be readily available, especially during overwhelming financial times.

2 months ago

It Happens
By Paula

The diminutive goblin shook as the sounds of death grew around her, the gurgling, coughing, choking. A tall man with golden hair and taunt muscles; “surely this man is a hero,” she thought as he grew closer.

She huddled closer to the ale barrel. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

He must have been coming to save her; she thought as she pulled up the hood on her cape. With the expectation of safety within arm’s length, she stepped out as the hero fell before her. An arrow juts through his chest as the body bounces on the ground. His fantastic hair swayed as it hit the bloodied mud.

A horrified look washed over the goblin’s face; she was exposed now amid the battle. The hero must have seen a way out. He was headed away from the fight.

She watched as a portal opened. Her fear prevented her from moving, but a noise thundered through her body as she stared. Slowly she turned to see a monstrous maw dripping with saliva and blood.

She fell backward, scrambling mindlessly away as the creature inched forward nearly above her imposingly.

She crawled into the portal without realizing it. Instantly she was surrounded by darkness. There was an odd silence; she was alone as the portal way made a loud bamphing noise.

She panted, her chest heaving with deep unsatisfying breaths, as she dropped her hood to hear better; silence.

Feeling unusually brave, she picked herself up off the ground. She found herself in what appeared to be an abandoned home with nowhere to hide.

A voice thundered around her as footfalls were on the stairs behind her. “Ah, finally, Everon, you have made it through my vast armies to face me” The stranger’s face contorted as his voice began to crack.

“Who are you?”

Her voice cracked. “Aerianna. I-I-I came through the portal.”

“Where is Everon?!” he screamed angrily.

“Dead?” she shrugged.

“You got to be fuckin’ kidding me…”

“Tall, blonde, great hair?” she asked.

“Yeah, that’s him,” he said.

“Well, shit. I wasn’t aiming for you.”

“It happens” she shrugged.

2 months ago

Hunting Rabbits (Genre Break Universe)
By MasaCur

Breathe in deeply. Empty your lungs to one quarter full. He’s not that far away. Aim for the second mil dot down. Squeeze the trigger. Do not pull at it; it will ruin the shot.

The rifle bucked in Mizuki’s grip, the butt pushing hard against her shoulder. She released her hand from the grip, and up to the bolt handle, quickly turning it and drawing it back before slamming it back into position.

She looked through the scope once again, to see Ritsu hopping around from one foot to another.

“Dammit, Henjinko! I know you’re the one shooting at me!” he yelled, looking around. “Where are you?”

Mizuki focused her sight on his foot, now that he had stopped jumping. A great sense of accomplishment filled her as she saw that one of Ritsu’s slippers was missing a rabbit ear.

Again. Breathe in, let out all but one quarter of your breath. Don’t rush it. You need that oxygen in your blood to keep your eyes sharp and muscles steady. Aim. Squeeze.

Another shot rang out.

Ritsu jumped back. “FUCK! Stop shooting at me!”

Mizuki glanced through the scope again. The second rabbit ear was missing. A grin spread on her face as she cocked the rifle again. “All’s fair in love and war, Tobose-san!” she called out. “And you are on the opposing side in this genre break.”

“You need to adjust your aim, Henjinko. I expected better from you, but that’s twice you’ve missed me.”

“I’m not trying to hit you, Tobose-san. It’s your slippers I take offence at.”

“What have my bunny slippers ever done to you?”

“I think they’re stupid. Now just surrender before I have to kill you. I’m giving you this courtesy as my best friend.”

“If you’re going to kill me, then kill me! Stop toying with me, Mizuki-chan!”

Deep breath. Empty your lungs. Aim. Squeeze.


“Dammit, Henjinko! Leave my slippers alone!”

Notes: Henjinko – Weird Girl. A nickname.

2 months ago

FTL Overshooting

By Galer

FTL drives usually came in two. One enchanted and magically used to create wormholes, and the other was an Alcubierre drive that was used for backup.

FTL drives didn’t need to be overshot like the Alcubierre. Usually, they didn’t run the risk of wiping out an entire solar system due to sheer mass and matter carried on from the damn thing.

Unfortunately, the universe has a sick sense of humor, and the Captain Wallace of the spaceship Roanon was experiencing it.

You see, they have a decent piece of junk for a drive.

The problem was it decided to malfunction now and stranded then in the middle of space, it didn’t help that the drive tended to disagree with reality.

“So let me get this straight. The reason why some of the crew polymorphed into sofas and others had animal heads is because of these side effects?” said Wallace, who was trying not to lose more of his sanity than he already did with this ship.

“Yes, sir,” said Andrew, second in command. Now with a duck head thanks to this weird crap happening. “Not to worry, we hypothesize this is only temporary.l”

“Well, I am glad that this isn’t permanent” Wallace really didn’t want to explain to the significant others of the crew members turned into furniture. “Any other news? preferably good ones?”

“The Alcubierre drive is ready for use sir,” Andrew said.

“And the Magic wormhole drive is sealed and is not going to leak on the other right?” Wallace asked, concerned.”Although the incident with bodybuilding ants did help the crew, I do not want to tempt Murphy.”

“Don’t, captain. I made sure to triple-check it” Andrew said, although he was trying not to laugh a bit due to remembering those amusing ants.

“…Well, let’s do this, ” Wallace said, internally praying for no more nonsense.

The Alcubierre drive was activated and they safely reached their destination, although the ship took the brief shape of Christopher Judge’s head during the trip.

No doubt a bizarre thing to behold across the stars.

Tamela Redfin
Tamela Redfin
2 months ago

Not you, but him

By Tamela Redfin

“It’s been five. YEARS!” Fernando slammed the cup of coffee on the table, the hot drink sloshing out. “Glenn didn’t just disappear, and I know he wouldn’t just run away from me. Even after all that happened. That’s not him.”

“I know, Fernando.” His ex girlfriend frowned. “But I think it’s a lost cause.”

“Finding Glenn will never be a lost cause, Penny. I know you’re an only child, but try to pretend you had a little brother. I looked everywhere in all of Eastern Rolt. Not a trace of him.”

“But Fern…”

Fernando turned away. “Don’t call me Fern. This isn’t high school. We aren’t dating.”

“Good. But why did you bring me here?” Penny huffed.

“You’re a pilot now. I don’t think Glenn is in Eastern Rolt. I need someone to fly me. Last I knew, Glenn was at the allies, which can be a hotbed for trafficking.” He stared into her green eyes. “Penny, for Glenn? He’s only sixteen.”

Penny looked at him. She could believe the eighty two kilos of muscle could look so defeated. “Okay. Fine, but not because we used to date.”

“Duh! I’m doing it for my brother. Not because I like you.” Fernando crossed his arms.

“Good. I’ll get a few friends to help us. I think Peter and Nicole have traveled through Periodica. They know the way.”

“Thank you.” Fernando nodded. He reached out and Penny grabbed his hand. “Hey, what are you doing? Let go!”

“Why did you reach your hand out?” Penny pulled her hand back.

“I was reaching out to… grab my coffee.” Fernando picked up the mug, took a few sips and set it down.

Penny meanwhile called someone. “Dad? Yeah it’s me. I’m gonna be leaving and I don’t think I can take Tove. Tell her that her mommy is…”

Fernando spit out his coffee.


“You have a kid? When?”

“That doesn’t matter. Anyway, dad tells her that mommy is going to find an important person. Love you.” She then hung up.

“Uh sorry about that.” Fernando replied, looking for a cloth.

“Eh, don’t do it again.” She stared at his beautiful steel blue eyes. If only Fernando was’t so intolerable.

“Twenty dollars for you to stop staring at me?”

“What? I wasn’t staring at you!” Penny gasped.

Hobbit Sloan
Hobbit Sloan
2 months ago

Hobbit Sloan
I remember that day like it was yesterday. I had a dream. No, a dream makes it sound silly. I had a prophecy about a great hero in golden-plated armor that glistens in the sunlight while the shadows quiver under their heel. That is who I am supposed to be. I am chosen by the fates to become this hero.

So why did I lose? How could I lose? I’m the chosen one! Evil should’ve trembled before me! Yet here I am surrounded by monsters who laugh at my misery.
“ Shut up! Shut up! I’ll-I’ll end you all! I-I-I,” The world is getting so cold. I’m scared…No no, I can’t be scared. Heroes are never scared. Stand up. My body trembled violently causing my hand to slip on my own blood hitting my head on the stone floor. A roar of laughter erupted echoing through the halls. There on the throne was the tyrant himself. The tyrant I’m meant to kill. He should fear me. But he’s laughing. Laughing…Laughing….Laughing…Everything went dark. Then it got bright again.
The fates were standing before me, their cloaks counseling their features aside from wisps of their spirits flowing through the fabric. I grabbed the middle one by the cloak.
“ Why did you let me die?! I’m supposed to save the world! So why did I die?!”
The fates remained silent.
My fist flew through the air impacting the fate, but it just phased right through it. I allowed my body to collapse onto the ground wailing in agony of it all. The three surrounded me staring down at me with glowing yellow eyes.
Why can’t I save everyone?

2 months ago

It’s All About the Game, And How You Play It
By Marx

“Have you lost your ever-loving mind?! How could you even suggest that?”

Jasmine sighed. “Daisy, look… I get where you’re coming from. I do. But you catch more flies with honey…”

“Alex is NOT a fly.”

A smirk curled up Jasmine’s lips. “I’m just saying you’re his thrall now. He literally controls you. He’s clearly a very old, bored demon. You’re a shiny new toy to him, you know?“

“So… your great plan… is to have him PLAY with me?! This isn’t one of your stupid novels! This is my life!”

A blush colored Jasmine’s cheeks as she nodded. “Got it. Sorry. Different plan then. We’ll get him to release you. It’s just… You do realize he’s part incubus? He’d probably be really–”


“Sorry. Sorry.”


I can’t stop a chuckle from escaping my lips as I watch the two bickering in the distance, clearly unaware of how easily I can see and hear them.

I generally try not to be noticed. The game works better that way. So it’s fun to be someone’s focus once more.

Daisy’s soul is encompassed in a glowing darkness, but there are already glimmers of a bright red within.


Jasmine on the other hand, she’s immersed in crimson. Her fire burns so much hotter than any sane human’s should. I am a demon after all. She should know this won’t end well for her. But that’s what makes this game so fun.

Just as Daisy has little sparks of red that will take over as all thralls eventually do, I also see some viridescence within Jasmine.

My grin widens.

It’s already starting.

They’re such polar opposites in regards to me. Daisy’s change has already begun. Regardless of if I’m cruel or kind it will end the same way.

But Jasmine…

She’s going to be fun.

Nurturing that envious tint. Discovering what will finally make her own inner obsidian void infest and bloom.

It makes me appreciate painters. Taking a plain canvas and manipulating colors until it’s art.

Bringing beauty out of nothing.

This will be a very fun game, indeed.

C. M. Weller
2 months ago

Struck by the Shadows [KoshDelia Ever After]
C. M. Weller

Polyxenia Tinatinos was certain she was doomed. She had had the audacity to correct AND upbraid the Thrice-Sworn King at the Meeting of Lords.

Everyone knew that King Kormwind IX was a trained assassin. Swift death came to those who offended him.

A shadow could erupt with a vengeful monarch and end her reign. Which was why she fell to her knees when she saw a shadow sprout golden glowing eyes and take form.

This was it.

Polyxenia attempted to meet her end with dignity.

The shadow barely took the form of a Hellkin before a swift movement made her flinch in spite of herself.

A hiss of air.

The vaguest breeze over her head.

A meaty thunk.

Hurried footsteps that were felt more than heard.

The susurrus of steel against its scabbard.

Another meaty sound.

Gasping. Choking. A warmth next to her right shoulder.

Polyxenia dared look. The king was holding a rapier, grimacing at a complete stranger that she had never seen before.

The only part of this stranger uncovered by leather or silk was their eyes. There was a dart sticking out of one. Wide in mortal terror.

King Kormwind let the body fall to the floor. Recovered the dart. Cleaned both it and his blade. “Lucky you dropped when you did, Lady Tinatinos. He might have struck before I could.”

Huddled on the floor, she could only stare at the corpse. “I thought you were coming for ME.”

“People willing to tell me I’m wrong are a rarity in this world. I prefer to treasure them.” He offered his hand. “I very much need people who are willing to tell me I’m wrong. Further, you are under my protection now that you’ve truly offended Lord Vasterhazy.”

Vasterhazy the bootlicker? Polyxenia could have sworn he was in the trough with all the suckling pigs. “I thought he had your favour.”

“So did he when he bragged about sending an assassin on my behalf.” King Kormwind sheathed his sword but played his dart between his fingers. “Tell me honestly. Does he deserve an assassination or a fair trial?”

Last edited 2 months ago by C. M. Weller