Writing Group: Be My Sword

Writers! Draw your Rapiers, Katanas, and Claymores!

Listen closely. We are entering the realm of conflict. Your job is to be a weapon. It doesn’t matter what kind—physical, emotional, philosophical—whatever it is, I need you to do your job because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

Be My Sword

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

The first place my mind goes to with this prompt is the idea of a protector. Someone saying to someone else who is stronger, and/or more skilled than them “be my sword.” As in “protect me, because I cannot protect myself.” It reminds me of the game Ender Lillies, in which you play a little girl, and all your “weapons” are spirits who fight for you—even the bosses you fought can become your swords. Mulan choosing to fight in her father’s stead is another example of someone being another’s sword for noble reasons. Even someone who can protect themselves might still need a protector—that could be a particularly touching take on the prompt: someone who is usually very strong breaking down and admitting they need someone to help them. 

It could also be taken in the opposite direction. A villain might hire a henchman, or multiple, to do their dirty work out in the world. Such as the Evil Queen sending the Huntsman to kill Snow White. They might do this because they can’t be bothered with the everyday aspects of villainy, or because they don’t want the evidence to lead back to them. Is the henchman more than willing to help their master? Or are they forced into this role unwillingly? Could someone forcibly be made into a sword? 

“Be my sword” could even have “please kill me” connotations. In The Case Study of Vanitas vampires can become “curse bearers.” When the curse takes over completely, they lose themselves, and turn into bloodthirsty monsters. When Vanitas promises that he will kill one of the other characters if she loses herself one day, this is a relief to her, not a thing of horror and sorrow—especially because this is a job she has had to do for others, and she realizes how necessary it is. Perhaps you could write about this sort of situation. Many stories have the hero saying to their sidekick, best friend, or lover, “if I get captured, I need you to kill me.” A request to “be my sword” might be a request for a mercy killing when the time comes. Is the person able to be the sword in the end, or do they not have the heart? 

You could, of course, take this prompt more literally. Perhaps you want to write about someone on the path to become a knight picking out their first sword. Or a blacksmith’s apprentice making the sword that will be their faithful partner for years to come. You could even write about someone in a shop finding a sword they like, and whispering to it “be my sword.” …Or you could write about another customer in the shop hearing this and thinking they’re crazy. 

Continuing with the literal direction, you could play with the material a sword is made from. Sokka in Avatar: the Last Airbender using the meteorite to make a sword is kind of like him saying to the meteorite, “become my sword.” What other strange materials might one want to make a sword from? Or perhaps it’s less about the material of the sword itself, but a jewel put on the hilt, or a mantra inscribed on the blade that one wants made into a sword. 

You could even write about sentient swords. I can’t think of sentient swords without thinking of Ahrah from Dust: an Elysian Tail. In that video game, the sword with which you fight baddies is also very much a character in the story—something of a mentor. Perhaps you want to write about this sort of situation. How different would buying a sword be if they were all sentient? If you were choosing a companion instead of just a sword? Just how sentient are they in the first place? Can they talk, or do they just seem to have an aliveness about them that’s hard to quantify? It could be a “the wand chooses the wizard” sort of idea. Perhaps the sword resists its new master until they request nicely “Would you please be my sword?” 

Rather than the sword itself being alive, someone’s consciousness could be trapped within a sword. Going back to the unwilling henchman idea, perhaps a villain literally turns someone into their sword to punish them. This could be a moment of true horror, as they become the blade used to kill the good people they once fought beside. Maybe you want to write about someone going on a quest to free their loved one from their sword prison. A more positive take on this idea is the regalia from Noragami. In that anime, spirits become the weapons of the gods. Literally, they can transform into a blade, and back into a human form. This is an honor, especially because, if not chosen by a god, they might turn into corrupted phantoms, and lose themselves. Perhaps you could write something more along these lines. 

I’ve been rewatching Once Upon a Time lately, and that show has what could be a very interesting take on this prompt. In the show, there is a title: “The Dark One.” The Dark One’s powers are given by a dagger, (which, if I remember correctly, was once a full sword), and their name is written on the dagger. If you hold the dagger, you can control The Dark One (going back to that unwilling henchmen idea…). If you kill The Dark One with the dagger, you become the new Dark One. The dagger is also the only thing that can kill them. In this way, the Dark One sort of is the dagger. At least, their power and life are tied fundamentally to it. Perhaps you could use this sort of take on the prompt. A villain might not make someone into a literal sword, but could they tie their life force to one still? Could a sword grant more power to its wielder than a simple blade, and if so, how difficult would it be to let go of it? 

You could take it in a “the pen is mightier than the sword” direction, in which the pen is the sword. Perhaps you want to write about a character walking up to make a speech, internally praying that their words can be their sword so they don’t have to truly fight. Negative words—an insult or broken promise—could be a sword as well. A secret could even be intended as a sword in the back. Perhaps, later, when the character tries to take it back, the insulted person says something like “you wanted your words to hurt.” As in “you wanted your words to be your sword.” 

What happens when the sword rejects the call? The prompt is “be my sword” but speaks nothing of the response to whoever, or whatever, is being commanded/requested. Perhaps you want to write about the person, or sword, resisting. Perhaps, for that sentient sword idea, someone could bow and politely say, “Would you please be my sword?” …only for the sword to blatantly reject them and start attacking. 

On last Saturday’s stream, we discussed the horror of everyday objects. Lee Strangely wrote a story of a typewriter that very much seemed alive, and Arith likened it to the Tell Tale Heart. It made me think of how an object seeming alive (but, especially if it is not) has this interesting layer of spookiness to it that horror stories of a living killer or monster don’t have. Something acting alive that shouldn’t be in the first place is a special kind of scary. And someone fearing something inanimate often creates a special kind of character that seems (or is) mad. Because this prompt has an inanimate object right in the title, I thought I’d make it the challenge: use the unique brand of horror an inanimate object can have in your 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!

What are you doing?! I didn’t order you to be a knot on a log! Get moving! Go go go go go!

—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.

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

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  2. What to Submit

    1. Keep submissions “safe-for-work”; be sparing with sexuality, violence, and profanity.
    2. Try to focus on making your submission a single meaningful moment rather than an entire story.
    3. Write something brand new; no re-submitting past entries or pieces written for other purposes
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Comments on this post that aren’t submissions will be deleted, except for replies/reviews left on existing submissions.


Comments

139 responses to “Writing Group: Be My Sword”

  1. “Lords&Rings stands as a beacon in the realm of enthusiasts, offering a haven for those who cherish the allure of swords and collectibles. At the heart of our virtual stronghold lies a meticulously crafted website, designed with utmost care to provide an immersive and intuitive browsing experience. Here, amidst the digital tapestry, awaits a vast and diverse array of treasures, from intricately designed swords to formidable helmets and beyond.
    https://lordsnrings.com/

  2. fabio124 Avatar
    fabio124

    Hi,

    This is Ami from Swords Kingdom, and I’m dropping you a line to see if you’re accepting new guest bloggers. I write about “Entertainment” and thought an article about “Lord of the Rings Trilogy” would be a good fit for your blog.

    I would appreciate an author bio with a live link back to my site. If you’re interested in this cooperation, please get back to me.

    Thanks,
    Ami

  3. Anton Kragh Paaskesen Avatar
    Anton Kragh Paaskesen

    Her Morning Star

    Celeste made her way to the top of the hill. Grass and mud and pieces of broken shields and blades impeded the arduous climb. Looking up she saw the one, she’d always followed. In the sunlight her otherwise small elegant frame cast a towering shadow over the battlefield of Auldron. This was the one she had always followed. the one she would always follow. Her master. Her Morning Star.

    General Elaine. The hero of Auldron.

    At last, the arduous climb ended, and she stood by her master’s side. Elaine had a solemn gaze. Celeste knew that gaze as one of mourning. Mourning the fallen brothers and sisters in the battle. Elaine had known a great many of them. Many were victims of war, who’ve sworn to fight under the Banner of the Morning Star. Whether for glory or for vengeance they all had one thing in common. Their devotion to and reverence for Elaine.

    All of them were feeding the worms now. Their dreams vanished to dust.

    “Celeste,” Elaine asked, her gaze still fixed on the battlefield.

    “What is it General?” Celeste answered reluctantly.

    “Do you resent me?”

    Celeste shook her head. “No of course not, my liege” she answered in a way, she hoped was convincing “What for?”

    “For stealing your life” Elaine answered with icy cold in your life “for forcing you to the frontlines at the tender age of eleven”.

    “I had no choice” A shake grasped Celeste’s voice “You didn’t force me into anything my liege. Zenoba did when they put my village to the torch, It was because of you, that I could live on to fight”.

    “You should not have lived to fight!” Elaine’s voice had taken an icy edge “You were but a small village girl. You should never have seen the battlefield!”.

    “But I did!” Celeste rebutted “Whether you like it or not, I did see battle! Nothing can change that now! You taught me the sword! I fought beside you!” Celeste lunged and with a fierce grip clutched her master’s shoulders. And with a shameful shrill voice, she pleaded “Say it! I’m your first lieutenant! I am your sword!”

    “Celeste!” Elaine’s reprimand was like a stone to the face “Enough. You’re not my sword. You’re not a tool for slaughter”.

    Celeste’s hands went slack, and with contemptuous ease, her general removed them. “It’s time you find your own path” she added with finality “one free from war”.

    And with those parting words she turned and left. Celeste would follow, but her legs betrayed her. She could do nothing but look, as her morning star vanished on the horizon.

  4. Saber (by Casey)

    The train whistle blew and it came to a stop. Angie didn’t bother to look at the leaving passengers nor to look at the new ones getting on. She continued contentedly reading her book, running her fingers over the pages.

    “Pwetty dwggie!” A voice squealed with excitement. The voice was young. Very young. A toddler most likely? Unfortunatly, at that age, all children have a similar pitch so she didn’t know if they were a boy or a girl.

    Another voice joined. “Lily, don’t.”

    ‘Lily? So, a little girl then.’ Angie thought.

    “That is a special doggie with a special job. And even then, you don’t just pet a dog you don’t know. You always ask for their owner’s permission first.” This voice was more mature.

    “But momma,” The girl whined. “I wanna pet the dwggie!”

    ‘Traveling with her mom.’ Angie observed.

    Angie adjusted her glasses, turned towards the source, and smiled. “Thank you. You would be surprised how often people throw on blinders when it comes to dogs. You’re a good mom, teaching her that. Lily, was it? Do you want to pet my dog?”

    Lily happily fired back, “YES!”

    There was a soft ruffle followed by a quiet giggle. “So cuwwlie.”

    “If I may be bold, a poodle is rather unique choice for a seeing dog.”

    “Not at all. Poodles may have a reputation for being frilly show-dogs but they are rather wicked smart and clever. I have a friend who actually has one of his siblings as a hunting dog.”

    “What’s his name?”

    “Saber.”

    “Star Wars fan?” The mom asked. Angie could hear the smile in her voice.

    “Well, yes but that’s not the reason. I named him after he saved my life in a robbery attempt. Apparently, being blind in the city makes you an easy mark. I was attacked on my way home. Saber stopped it. Only a puppy at the time, still being trained, and he fought off the guy. Left a few scars or so I’m told.”

    “Don’t mess with poodles.” The woman said in awe. Saber grumbled as if in agreement.

    1. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      I loved that one!

      This was a very clever use of the prompt, and there are a lot of interesting elements here.

      I really liked how the elements to notice that Angie is a blind girl are presented from the start, but even then I took a moment to realize it – and it was such a good read having everything being presented by her sightless perception. This makes for a very satisfying read, and it works amazingly well for the written medium. The whole interaction is quite sweet as well, and the surprise that Saber the seeing poodle is also a fighter little guy is adorable.

      This story has all the right elemets that make for a good flash fiction – it is very well written, it presents a simple scene that contains lots of interesting and engaging elements, it presents us with an experience that makes us thing, and it is very entertainment. Concise, but very full of character! I loved this one.

      Thanks for sharing, and please, keep on writing!

      1. Thank you so much! You’re too kind.

    2. DeathsHead419 Avatar
      DeathsHead419

      Very unique interpretation of the prompt, and very good. I think my only critique is that the paragraph, the one where we learn about Saber being a defender, is a little short and clipped, though the word limit likely comes into play there. Might just be me though.

      1. Oh, I know it’s clipped. I tried to word it in a way that sounded more natural but the word limit made it very difficult. Thank you for the constructive criticism 🙂

    3. Anton Kragh Paaskesen Avatar
      Anton Kragh Paaskesen

      What a cute story.
      I love the way you write the little girl. I could buy a toddler acting like that in real life. And the way you incorporated her blindness is really interesting. In truth I didn’t really catch it on my first reading, but when i realized that the main character perceives the world through sound it all clicked. All around a well done wholesome tale.

  5. Old n Gold Avatar
    Old n Gold

    My Own Sword
    By Old n Gold

    A small group emerged through the door, the sound of boots and swords echoing through the great hall. They were but boys, young and wide-eyed, many of their heads angled towards the chandeliers high above rather than the throne which grew before them.

    “Are these the best warriors we could find? They are as green as the summer leaves,” one of the advisors whispered but was quickly shushed with a raise of the Lord’s ringed hand.

    “Greetings distinguished warriors,” announced the Lord, his voice commanding the boys to kneel. “I would wish to congratulate you for winning the selection tournament, but I am sure you are more interested in the reward that was promised.”

    The young warriors nodded excitedly. None of them knew what the reward could be — the tournament never stated what it was — but they were all desperate for money of any kind.

    A smile grew on the stoic Lord’s face, “The reward I offer you is a privilege of the highest honour. You shall serve as the bodyguards and agents of this court, working against this land’s enemies.” The Lord drew his elegant sword and held it out in front of him. “You shall be your people’s sword. My sword.”

    The excitement was muddled. This was not the reward they truly wanted, but in front of the Lord and his court, the warriors could only form a stressed smile and reluctantly accept. All but one.

    The one named Karlos slowly rose from his knees, “I apologize my lord, but I will have to decline this offer.”

    “On what grounds?!” The Lord replied, taken aback.

    “My family owns a farm, and we have lost many, if I am not there to help then what is to become of it.”

    The Lord laughed callously, “We all have to make sacrifices for the greater good, your farm is inconsequential.”

    Karlos clenched his teeth and turned his back. “Then my sword is my own,” he declared as his footsteps echoed once again through the great hall.

  6. Set A Course For Adventure! (Chronicles of The Dragon: Scribe)
    By Makokam

    “Whoo! Yeah!” Scribe cheered, leaping up and bouncing on the couch as the show went to credits. She leapt from the couch and grabbed the remote. “I am-!” She stopped. She looked at the remote and frowned before tossing it aside.

    She pushed aside some papers and magazines left on the table, but not finding what she wanted. She ran back and forth across the TV room, moving things and checking drawers and cabinets. Tossing aside pillows and cushions. Looking under the furniture.

    She went into the hall, and almost immediately shook her head and headed for the kitchen. She first went to the knives. Pulling out a long thin one, she held it up and grinned.

    And then thought. And frowned. And put the knife away.

    She started going through drawer after drawer. She picked up a rolling pin and held it up, testing it, then put it back. She tried a spatula, but didn’t like the feel of it either. Eventually, she grabbed a long wooden spoon. She held it up, it swished through the air, and made her eyes light up.

    She gave it a couple more good swishes before dashing back to the couch. She jumped over the back and planted her bare foot on the arm of the couch, the spoon held against her hip. With her other hand she drew her sword, with a loud hiss of wood against her cotton shorts, held it up, and proudly declared, “I am Scribe of the Bright Hair, and with the power of my Shift Shift fruit, I will find the One Piece and become Queen of the Pirates!”

    “What are you yelling abou-” Nighthawk called as he and other’s walked in.

    “WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE COUCH?!” Khia yelled.

    Scribe looked down at the couch turned miniature pirate ship. “Uh… hehe. Oops?” she said.

    “Turn it back,” Nighthawk said, shoulders slumping, and covering his eyes with his hand. “And your TV privileges are revoked for the next week.”

    1. Admit it, everyone. We all make pretend swords out of anything we find.

  7. You! You’re a Weapon Now!
    By MasaCur

    Nabiki finished tuning her bass as she waited for the rest of her band to arrive. They had a school concert next week, and needed to practice.

    “Where’s Jacob? He’s late.”

    “Dishonor! Dishonor on him! Dishonor on his cow!” Myoni declared. He played some dramatic music on his keyboard.

    Nabiki glared at him. “Stop using Western references!”

    “Nah. Besides, that movie is set in China.”

    “It’s put out by Disney! It’s a western reference!” Nabiki gripped her bass tightly in her hands.

    “Don’t have a cow, man.”

    Nabiki growled and swung her bass at Myoni’s head, but he quickly ducked away. She circled around his keyboard and swung again, but the cord leading to the amp had tangled around a chair, and swinging the bass down, pulled the chair awkwardly with it, smacking into Nabiki’s back. Nabiki abandoned her weapon and chased after Myoni barehanded, the collision with the chair barely registering with her.

    “You need to take a chill pill, Nabiki,” Myoni said.

    Nabiki growled, gaining on him, so he circled toward the back door of the classroom.

    “Hey, sorry I’m late,” Jacob said as he entered.. “I was…urk!”

    Nabiki grabbed Jacob’s arm, and swung him at Myoni, lifting him off his feet. Myoni darted out of the way, vaulting over desks to get away from her.

    “Nabiki, put me down! I’m not a…oof!” Air rushed out of Jacob’s lungs as Nabiki swung him overhead and down onto a desk, barely missing Myoni.

    Myoni looked back and tried hard to stifle a laugh as Nabiki approached, swinging the much larger, and most unconscious, Jacob above her. It was both ridiculous and frightening to behold Nabiki’s angry tsundere girl rage as it gave her strength far greater than her small size would indicate.

    “Nabiki, you need to see someone about your anger issues!” Myoni pleaded.

    “I already am!” She whirled and hammer tossed Jacob straight at Myoni. Nabiki put her hands on her knees, panting heavily.

    “What the heck is going on in here?” Ayase asked from the doorway.

    1. As a band kid, this was a thoroughly amusing read. I did not expect a person to unwillingly become a weaponized tool for someone’s anger issues in a story about trying to prepare for an upcoming performance. It’s whiplash in the best way possible. Also props to Nabiki for having enough strength to swing a full person overhead, and props to Jacob for ONLY getting knocked out by the impact.

    2. Are you an anime fan? The action is very anime hijinks especially when Jacob becomes a “sword” for Nabiki. Well, that and your use of the ‘tsundere girl’ phrase.

  8. ThatWeirdFish Avatar
    ThatWeirdFish

    In Shadow Grow the Sharpest Thorns (The Depths Files)
    By ThatWeirdFish, reviewed by Alex Nightingale

    Snuffles always felt small due to his stunted growth, leaving him at just under five feet tall. But now, standing next to his cousin, he felt the sting of his given name even more. Rainbunny. The title was given to the runts expected to die. Small, weak things hardly deserving of the heritage of their berserker bloodline, let alone something as powerful as a name.

    “She’ll never pick you.” Galewrender smirked. Age fourteen and already a six-foot-tall wall of onyx muscle, Galewrender exemplified everything Snuffles should be in the eyes of the demonic half of his family. He had never met his fey side, but he expected they would think the same.

    Burying his insecurity behind a scoff, Snuffles stretched his one advantage over his siblings. Despite being stunted and the flimsy gossamer texture of his feathers, his wings provided something his siblings could never have: flight.

    “What’s that I see?” Galewrender leered at Snuffles through the corner of his eye. “The runt about to fly back to his mommy crying about how he lost?”

    “You don’t know the future.” Snuffles answered, subtly clenching his fists at his side.

    “I know enough to know you don’t have a chance.” Galewrender countered. “If you were as intelligent as your father’s delusions claim you are, you’d know it too.”

    “Wow… such big words, I’m impressed.” Snuffles said dryly, refusing to give him the gratification of an emotional response.

    Galewrender blinked. Then, his confusion morphed into an indignant scowl. He turned to face Snuffles, his body blocking the sun and casting his smaller cousin in shadow.

    “You little-” His growl was cut short by the decisive clack of the door opening.

    “Galewrender, do not accost my heir.” Grandame Quail said from the doorway.

    Both teenagers stared up at the albino demoness in shock.

    “But my birthright-” Galewrender began protesting as Snuffle’s heart lurched.

    “Entitles you to my lands and possessions. My wisdom is mine, and mine alone to bestow on whom I deem worthy.” Grandame Quail’s direct gaze never felt heavier as she looked at Snuffles. “Come. Your training starts now.”

    1. Good on you, Snuffles. Grandame Quail recognizes the value in you, despite your small stature.
      This was a heartwarming story, Fish. I enjoyed Galewrender getting his comeuppance. You did an exceptional job at helping to describe how much taller and physically imposing he is compared to Snuffles. Likewise, the description of Snuffles’s fragile-looking, and yet flightworthy wings was also well done.
      I’m sure Snuffles has appeared in other stories, but I would really like to see how this apprenticeship turns out.

  9. Aracnarquista Avatar
    Aracnarquista

    Stinger – A prologue written in charcoal, sap and blood
    by Aracnarquista

    “I’m dying. I need your help, little wasp.”

    Smoke, scorched earth and the charcoal skeletal remains of trees; what once was a vibrant forest is now a desolation. Sam’s feet hurt while walking, both from the effort and from the dryness. He is not sure if it is the pain or a different trance that compels him to venture deeper into the catastrophe site, coughing the heavy air under the orange-tinted skies.

    The burned forest reminds Sam of his own life – what was once an explosion of potential and life, now burned to the ground in a definitive and sudden catastrophic event. Maybe that is why his inner voice calls him further and further through the desolation. But why is it calling him a “little wasp”?

    Before trying – and failing – to be a spellcaster, Sam was a gardener. Maybe wasps meant something then. Now, he is not even that. Sam is but a lost cause, walking through a lost land.

    “There is still venom coursing in you. There is still time.”

    In what should be the center of the forest, a tree still stands. Once a majestic fig tree – full of life and welcoming of all life – now dead, charred. Lifeless. It waits for Sam. Sam doesn’t know why, but the tree calls to him.

    A solitary fig still clings to the tree, somehow surviving the inferno that took everything else. Just barely. Slowly drying and dying. A voice – that voice – comes from it.

    “We are both hurt and brought down. But we are not yet lost. I can help you find your true potential, little wasp – if you allow me to live through you… I’m the soul of the forest, but the forest is no more. I’m dying. The forest is beyond saving… but maybe justice is still in reach. Take my sap. Become the forest’s stinger, little wasp.”

    The wasp’s stinger dips in the hamadryad sap, a pen ready to write a new tale – in blood and charcoal if need be. Amidst ruins, magic and life flows again.

    1. Strong Berry Avatar
      Strong Berry

      A heavy, yet hopeful little tale you brought here. And a nice introduction to Sam- a lost cause who lost everything to a catastrophe, chosen to become a guardian/reviver of the forest… quite an interesting thing. And the final lines are great, setting up what Sam has become in just one paragraph: A force to be reckoned with. Is this what you meant by ‘wasp’?

      1. Aracnarquista Avatar
        Aracnarquista

        Thanks a lot.

        Well, in fact Sam is a character that exist in a larger narrative, but I have never presented his backstory before. He is part of a group called the Triumvirate of Keys, and it is a whole thing (they all started as part of the planning for a TTRPG campaing I was going to narrate to some friends, but ultimately was abandoned). The wasp thing is a bit of a foreshadowing for lots of things – chief among them, the relationship between wasps and fig trees. Fig trees have a very particular way of reproducing – a wasp must collect the pollen of one tree and them it is somewhat consumed inside the flowering buds of the other, where it boths polinates the tree and lay its eggs. So, in a sense, the wasp is sacrificed to give life to its own offsprings and the new fig trees.

        If things work out, I’ll share some more stories in that same universe, and both Sam and the hamadryad (though she now exist in another form) might return with the aftermath of this all.

        Thanks for the comment and feedback!

    2. Hooo I very much love this.

      It starts great, with the description of the fire and the remains of the forest. I particularly love the “orange-tinted skies” The sky is not orange it’s tinted in orange, I found that was a very subtle and clever way to let us know that the fire was still ongoing even if you didn’t describe it itself.

      Sam’s journey is interesting too, he doesn’t know why he’s there but he walks anyway even though the smoke is clearly hurting him. I like how he’s completely lost using only the tenuous link of “I was once a gardener” to justify his actions. It leaves a very deep sense of mystery of “Alright there MUST be something more!” And I love that. I also like how there’s a longing in Sam, “Trying, and failing, to be a spellcaster” tell us that he has possibly lost his purpose in life setting him up perfectly for the inciting accident.

      You also get a tenderness from him, largely because of the descriptions. I find it very clever, the description paints a very sad image but it’s clear that Sam has other things to worry about (like something calls to him and he’s unable to refuse). I found that a fascinating way to set the character as caring for the environment without making him distracted and unfocused.

      As for the description I’m less enthusiastic and it’s all because of a single phrase: “What was once an explosion of potential and life, now burned to the ground in a definitive and sudden catastrophic event.” It’s not a bad sentence by any mean! But you set up that life is vibrant, active, “an explosion” and in a clever twist you put death and destruction as something still, something silent.
      The charcoal’s skeleton reinforces this idea same for the tree that was described as majestic and full of life but ultimately charred and lifeless. There’s a clever juxtaposition of : Death passive, and life active, which I found great. But you also put the destruction itself (not the aftermath) as something very active “sudden catastrophic even” and “inferno”. I know it’s hard not to describe the fire as his and heck I might be totally wrong but reading your description left me with a sense of confusion that I can only explain through this.

      The second part I am not convinced by is the fig. Why a fig ? Is there a folklore that I am missing ? If it was a blade made of wood, a weird looking fruit, heck even an apple which is very symbolically charged. I might have understood better the last moments, but since I was left with a fig I reread the part with the stinger because I didn’t understand how a fig could be used in this way.
      Side note : Comparing the tree to an hamadryad might be a bit much, especially if it’s just for poetry’s sake. It’s a term I didn’t really know (I knew Dryad however) and we get that the tree is magical and majestic by his little speech about the soul of the forest.

      Finally the wasp metaphor. I love it, no other way of saying it, it’s absolutely incredible. The fact that Sam as venom coursing through him which could relate to his longing, his desperation or something more. The fact that the stinger becomes both a sword and a pen (perhaps even a wand) is fantastic. The way the mystery of the meaning is kept and so elegantly revealed ! Chief kiss on all levels.

      You got it, I love this story, I hope this is the start of a new universe because it already feels so fleshed out and any critique I did was deep deep nitpicking. Thanks so much for sharing this story Aracnarquista

      1. Aracnarquista Avatar
        Aracnarquista

        Thanks a lot, Reidrev!

        Well, this is a character I never really had the chance to introduce before, and he exists in a Universe I’d like to present more stories in, but is not usually the most easy setiting to write about. There are lot of elements that need to be presented for most of the stories to really land – and that might have been a problem with this one as well.

        I can understand the sense of confusion that happened in the whole contrast about how life and destruction are presented here. My initial idea was very different to how it ended up being, and I know I was somewhat tired when I finished the story, só my own review of the draft was a bit lacking (and I was trying to rewrite some entire paragraphs to fit the word count with varying degrees of success – the first draft ended up with an excess of a hundred of words). I’d like to paint the image of him walking through the part of the forest that was already burned and destroyed, but there are signs of the fire raging on in the distance – to Sam, the fire going on is not really an issue, since it is already a fact that everything will be consumed by it.

        The thing about the fig is a bit complicated to explain – part of the reason is that fig trees are the trees that come to my mind when I think of a complex ecosystem – they have a very particular presence in the landscape where I live, and they organize the whole geography around them. And there is also the thing about how fig trees reproduce, and how wasps are part of it in a curious way. Fig trees are difficult to transpose from one environment to another (since they have a necessary symbiotic relationship with specific wasps thy need to reproduce), but most than all, I’d like to make the connection between the sacrificial way in which both wasps and figs weave themselves to allow for both of them to keep being alive – wasp and fruit die, só that wasp eggs and seeds can result. Here, the story is about two deaths – even if one is a metaphorical one – and renewal in this meeting.

        And I like insects, hehehe.

        But, yeah, I want to present more characters from this universe in other stories as soon as I’m able.

        Thanks again for the review, comment and feedback, Reidrev!

    3. Reinkarnitor Avatar
      Reinkarnitor

      Very melancholic…and yet hopeful at the same time.

      The tree speaking to the gardener…wizard…man…

      In the beginning I thought it would be the start of him nursing the forest back to health and greenery, but I think I am correct when saying that instead the tree wants him to take revenge in his stead on those who have set the fire in the first place.

      To be mother natures sword is truly an interesting take on the prompt.

      Life, or in this case, magic finds a way.

      Very nice work ^^

      1. Aracnarquista Avatar
        Aracnarquista

        Thanks, Reinkarnitor.

        What can I say? Well, his story is full of twists and turns, so it is fitting that you were thinking the story would go in one direction but then another was presented. And I can assure you the revenge thing will not settle the score, and the future holds some grand things for Sam.

        Yeah, the hamadryad is way to pained in this moment not to think only of revenge, and granting power for a failed spellcaster is a recipe for… interesting things to come!

        Magic finds a way, indeed.

        Thanks again!

    4. Berith Quinn Avatar
      Berith Quinn

      I love the imagery, from the burnt skeletal trees to the orange sky. With just a few words, a vivid image of countless forest fires I’ve seen on the news is perfectly captured. As for the story itself, there’s a beautiful melancholy tinged with insidious hope. A world where if a majestic forest dies in a tragic fire, that from its ashes a figure will rise to bring vengeance.

      And I definitely don’t picture Samwise, or any other Sam’s for that matter.

      1. Aracnarquista Avatar
        Aracnarquista

        Thanks a lot, Berith.

        Well, now that it is written, then this character is now a Sam. He has been around for some five years, but never had a name decided for him – and it is good to know the other famous ones aren’t too present when I present him.

        I also loved that phrasing you used: “beautiful melancholy tinged with insidious hope”. Feels somewhat dangerous, and I like this look on it.

        Thanks again!

    5. Xavier Twentyone Avatar
      Xavier Twentyone

      Such a master piece!

      I love how you can write in so little yet convey so many within few words. You can make me imagine a place like burned forest and make it seem more magical. Your writing is also very clear to me in a sense that you can articulate your ideas to the readers.

      I can go in depth with some analogy like the activists who convey their ideas through writings, little wasp that is a symbol for Sam as a gardener that nursed nature (as if a wasp who take care of the colony, in which the colony is a metaphor for nature itself), and most importantly, how the agreement on Sam receiving creativity (can also be called Muse) in exchange that Sam writes about the story of the forest (the injustice that forest received). But i suspect that you already know all of them.

      What makes me fascinated was the possibility that some activist, was chosen by nature and not the otherwise. What if people who became activist (decent activist, not like a type of buffoon who spilled milk at a grocery store as an act of “activism”) are people who were touched by mother nature and therefore received its Muse so that they can write about the atrocity that had been done by us to nature. What do you think?

      1. Aracnarquista Avatar
        Aracnarquista

        Thanks a lot for the feedback and the high praise, Xavier!

        Well, I have carried this character in my mind for some years by now (though some specifics about it has changed a lot), and one of these days I would need to share one of his tales. This was a strange one to share first, since in my mind his presentation usually happens in another tone and another moment in his mind.

        But I find it interesting that you commented more on the “story-telling” point of the story more than the “start of a revenge plot” that most of the other commenters went on. To be frank, I really like this take, but even in my mind it was not the highlight of the story while I was writing – and I’d say it is pretty easy to take that last sentences in a more metaphorical way. But I appreciate this take on it – it also makes sense.

        But… well, this story does not delve in this particular point, but by all intents and purpuses Sam would probably be considered – at least, at first in the stories tat will immediately follow this one- an eco-terrorist. He is a complex character who deals with some complex things, and not usually from an non-problematic moral standpoint.

        But I like the idea of nature choosing him (was he the only one? are there others like him? and what kind of alliances and enmities will result from that? how will he use his new-found potential to tell the story of destruction that happened?) and what this can lead him into as a character and plot device.

        I hope to share some more stories with him, if the prompts allow for it – though maybe he will not be as recognizable in lots of other stories, since he changes a lot during his journey.

        Thanks a lot once again!

        1. Xavier Twentyone Avatar
          Xavier Twentyone

          You talent for creating art (for me, writer is artist since they delve in creative endeavor too) Aracnarquista. Do not stop creating.

          1. Xavier Twentyone Avatar
            Xavier Twentyone

            *have

    6. I liked it! I found it very easy to follow and extremely engaging. It is inspiring to see such a compact piece full of meaningful metaphors and symbolism. It makes me want to try doing the same in my future pieces. I am a beginner, and I feel that I have learned something from reading this. I will strive to make better metaphors and symbolism in the future! … … … (*Panic* Now that I set this challenge for myself, I don’t know if I can live up to it!)

      1. Aracnarquista Avatar
        Aracnarquista

        Thanks a lot, Vex!

        I’m happy to know that this story has inspired you to try something in the same vein. Metaphors and symbolism are a matter of wordplay and practice – we experiment and get better at them, story after story. I’ve seen your piece and I notice you have already a good grasp for the intense, so my advice for you is trying to temper it through different tones and moments of intensity in different stories. Flash fiction is a bit challenging in that regard as a training proposition: it has the benefit of conciseness and making each piece a bit like a self-contained and not overly taxing endeavor, but as everything must be said in few words, we tend to overuse intensity. Maybe some training some short pieces, but with more leeway on lenght, would help in training this particular skill of establishing a good narrative flow with different intensities and varying use of metaphorical language in said intensities.

        I believe in you! Go for it and treat the challenge as a chance of becoming a better writer, but most of all, don’t forget to have fun while doing so. Part of being a good writer is enjoying what you write and the exercise of writing, so challenge yourself, but never to the detriment of your own enjoynment!

        Thanks again for the comment, feedback and the kind words!

  10. A Soul of Damascus

    By Galer.

    Swords were a simple tool for either protection, friendly sparring, or murder., A hunk of iron shoved on a stick with different proposes, depending on the design.

    Nothing else was needed from them.

    Although people on the planet, regardless of species, always gave them a personality of sorts. Or a soul for lack of a better term.

    Even if they were replaced with guns in wars.

    However, that didn’t stop your occasional crackpot wizard from using organic material, Damascus steel, and aether to make a sword sentient.

    Or in the case of Durandal, an angel.

    “One could say you only were born during the world wars,” Riana said to the sword that now functioned as the core of a robotic frame. Although it didn’t have a head it was a walking scabbard for the living weapon.” But I guess you let those times behind you given how they weren’t really happy moments”

    The noise of iron striking iron reverberated across the room. An echoing of exhaustion from Durandal.

    “I guess it would be traumatic, being passed from hand to hand. With your first memories being nothing but use for brutal killings,” Riana asked Durandal. “Although I am surprised that you are as stable as you are after that mess”

    Durandal replied with the sound of a sword being sheathed back into the scabbard, as Durandal differed in opinion.

    “Jesus. I didn’t know you were that mentally bad at the time,” Riana worried “Sorry for assuming”

    Durandal raised their hand and simply waved in as if telling her not to worry about it, then followed it up with the sound of cutting air.

    “Yeah even if you were made a weapon you desired peace,” Riana stated. ” But it is better now, you don’t have guild-induced nightmares right?”

    Durandal let out a dirtied angelic chorus, expressing bittersweetness and hope.

    Riana emphatically smiled in reply.

    It was a statement of progress.

    Meaning that one day Durandal would be free from their nightmares, to live their life to the fullest.

    1. I really like this story it’s very cute.
      I’m in awe at how you could expand so much on the setting and so gradually too !

      We start with: People love swords, even if guns are better, and wizards can actually make sentient swords, and Durandal is a sentient sword made by an angel. Durandal is in a robotic body he cannot speak per se but can emote and let some sounds out. Durandal is apparently a sword with trauma.

      One thing I really is the choice of emote, especially how his bad memories are expressed through “iron striking iron” like in a sword fight. Disagreement? He’s sheathed back. Progress not there yet ? a dirtied angelic chorus.

      My biggest problem with this story is Riana herself. I don’t know who she is and more damning I don’t her relationship to Durandal. From reading, I legitimately thought she was a psychologist, but she could be someone who found Durandal, a friend, the next wielder ?
      This lack of context feel like the story is missing something important and that something is the overall tone.

      If she’s a psychologist, then it’s wholesome and a bit funny with the absurdity of it, if she found Durandal it’s a bit sad you don’t know what state he was in, he might not have a normal life despite being able to walk. If she’s the next wielder it’s downright tragic, Durandal doesn’t want to go to war and there he’s going at it again.

      Overall it’s a great story with a very serious beginning that softens pleasantly as we go on but the uncertainty of the overall tone made it hard to fully get into it ^^”

      1. at the beginning, I wanted to say that Riana is Durandal’s Roommate, but I didn’t write it clearly enough.

        so I decided to cut that since my grammar doesn’t make it clear, the roommate part I meant.

    2. Very interesting. Well done!

      1. Thanks

  11. Purpose, Simplified
    By: Boople

    Jack carefully picked up his new shield with deranged excitement. With his arm raised in the air, he admired how its ruby gloss caught the light from the bulb hanging in the middle of the concrete room. It had a wonderfully intricate crest that looked like porcelain, planted firmly in the center of it, the visage of a skull warped in agony with a multitude of twisting horns, wasting no free space. Jack would have loved to adore his new toy for longer, if not for the sudden spilling of vomit behind him.

    “Gretel,” Jack said stiffly, taking in a sharp inhale, “Now what did I tell you about making a mess.”

    He turned around to see a young woman enveloped in his shadow, splayed out in quite the exhausted manner. Gretel found her hand gripping tangled in her hair, her eyes staring blankly and shaking much like the rest of her, with lunch once again to her right.

    Jack loomed over her, disappointed.

    “First you had NO table manners, so I taught you out of the goodness in my soul. Then you leave a pile of bodies to be found and tracked back to me, which I so GRACIOUSLY cleaned up for us, THANKS WOULD BE NICE BY THE WAY-,” Jack caught himself before he felt he lost composure.

    Without a word he took some time to himself, ignoring the quivering mess before him.

    He neatened up his hair,

    He fixed up his tie,

    He li-

    “You’re a monste- EUGH.”

    He lit up his cigar.

    “And this,” Jack continued where he left off, “Is how you treat a promotion?”

    “A Prom-m-otion-n, t-that’s what you call this?”

    “Absolutely! I am making your life so much easier.” Jack’s words oozed with condescension

    “You, -HURP-, You are sick.” Gretel spat out, catching what remained of breakfast

    “No, I think you are.” Jack responded with a straight face, “but you won’t be much longer.”

    Gretel could feel her bones break and melt out of shape even before Jack said the words.

    “I wish I had a sword.”

  12. Wangles Bojangles Avatar
    Wangles Bojangles

    The Last Resort

    By: Wangles Bojangles

    The storm had settled in, brooding above the high cliffs overlooking the city. Her hands were clenched in frustration. She knew she had to choose, but the choice wasn’t fair. The giant stood off from her, an enormous silhouette looming at the tree line. The rain coming down tinked and clicked off of his dark armor. His voice was so deep it rumbled like the thunder overhead. The storm in her mind given voice.

    “You know I cannot do that. If that’s what you wanted, you should have found a way to have your revenge without such cost,” he said. “But vengeance always costs something, doesn’t it.”

    She ran her fingers through her soaked hair. The tears welling up stood no chance against the driving rain.

    “I tried…damn it I tried so hard. I believed I could find some justice. It just…it just doesn’t stop, does it?” she asked.

    The giant simply crossed his huge arms.

    “Humans are creatures of spite,” he said.

    She stared down at the city again.

    “And when they’re all gone? What then? Will the ones who come after be any better? Would all that death really mean anything?”

    “I don’t care,” he answered.

    She spun, staring at him. There it was again. That impossible darkness within him. That terrifying reminder that whatever he was, even if he looked like it, couldn’t be human.

    “I suppose the real choice is, can I live with it or not,” she said.

    The giant nodded and she turned from him again. The tears were catching up to the storm now.

    “I never want to see you again after this…but I suppose it’s better. All anyone will remember is you, the thing that brings this horror upon them. One last time, I ask of you, give me vengeance…be my sword.”

    Thunder crashed overhead as he disappeared into the shadow of the woods. She looked down upon the ones she hated, one final time. She would be the last one to ever do so.

    1. There is a bit to unpack for me here, especially because I don’t believe I’ve read any of your work before. I think my favorite part is the Giant’s blunt reminder that it is not human. the sudden “I don’t care”, albeit simple so my apologies for gushing over it, landed SO well for me. I just love that it either can’t or won’t empathize at all. i love the big fantasy air, and I love how you set up the scenery, the rain tinking off colossal dark armor, bringing a voice to the storm overhead and in her head.

      a criticism I have, which may be just me, is the name lessness of this story. in great eldritch of metaphorical pieces it’d make sense, But she whoever she is, very obviously is a person. I feel like she, if not her and the giant, should have a name. and I feel like the dialogue after “I don’t care” doesn’t quite hold up to everything before it.

      Thank you for writing It’s been a pleasure to read!

    2. I liked this alot. Last line was particularly touching to me.

    3. What a visually beautiful piece you have! Your work with the environment is woven so seamlessly into your story–the character is obviously struggling with inner turmoil and strong emotions, externalized by the storm; comparing that to the impassivity and solidness of the giant, the giant seems even more supernatural and non-human. This small peek at these two characters already has me invested in them and their story. Your attention to environmental details and character-building made this a very fun and enjoyable story to read. Awesome work!

    4. ::notes emoji:: Ti-tle drop! Title dro-0-op… [sung to the tune of _Xanadu_ lol]

      Nice prompt drop. I kind of feel sorry for both the characters in this scene. They can’t help but go on in the way they’ve chosen. Vengeance requires a minimum of two graves, and their path of destruction may well end with them.

      You got yourself an ominous last line there and I love it.

  13. Danny Gilhooley Avatar
    Danny Gilhooley

    The Gunsmith
    By Danny Gilhooley

    Llewelyn had heard stories of the Gunsmith. He was the last man standing during the siege of ’87. He successfully defended the town against marauders during the time the sun hugged the horizon but never set. He went without food for five days during the Great Famine.

    To Lou, he was just grandpa.

    His door stood before Lou like a wall. Only grandpa was inside. The rest of his family had left. His two cousins Arthur and Bull stormed out first; he was able to hear Bull screaming at someone in the parlor. Then his parents and his uncle left. His uncle would usually give Lou high-fives whenever he saw him. Instead, he just looked, grunted, and walked away.

    “He wants to see you, Lou,” his dad said.

    “I don’t want to.”

    “Why not?”

    “I’m scared.”

    “Death ain’t nothing to be scared of. Not when you have family. Go say goodbye.”

    Dad was a lot sterner than usual. He was so gentle on the wagon ride in.

    Those words egged him on, though. Finally, Lou walked toward the door, grasped the handle, and walked inside

    “Is that who I think it is?” The voice sounded so distant than what grandpa used to sound like.

    Lou stepped inside. Portraits of family members hung the walls. Candles glowed on the nightstand. And on the bed, looking much frailer, was the Gunsmith.

    “Is that my little Louie?” grandpa said before coughing.

    “Yes sir.” Lou sniffled.

    “You alone?”

    “Yes sir.” He wanted to cry.

    “Before I go, I got something important I want to give ya. Come closer, boy.”

    Lou wanted to turn around and run. Instead, he walked to the side of the bed.

    “I need someone to look after this town,” grandpa said. “Someone who’s strong, bold, but also selfless and kind.”

    He lifted his hand. In it was the Gunsmith’s pistol. The legend was that whoever held the gun would never miss.

    “And I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have in charge than my little buddy.”

    The tears got harder to force back.

    “Llewelyn, can I trust you?”

    1. Xavier Twentyone Avatar
      Xavier Twentyone

      Good job, well done, I think this is a very entertaining story.

      This is a type of story I want to read in my spare time because it feels like you put a lot of effort on creating this. I can just feel it from your writings. Usually people in this website rarely write a complete story or even an essay.

      Sadly, the prompt element in this story is lacking or exist in a very subtle way. The grandpa, obviously offered Lou his “Sword” so that Lou can protect the town. But even though for me it’s obvious, maybe its not for the others. If it is actually obvious that the gun is an analogy to the “Sword”, then I think you did a good job for this prompt because it’s metaphorical element. I do feel like your writing is stiff sometimes in a sense that the jump from paragraph to paragraph isn’t as smooth as it should.

      Nevertheless, go0d job

    2. this is touching. this whole scene you set up is truly wonderful, having a story that touches on the death of a loved one along with passing on the torch is always something to be enjoyed. As I feel the the premise and meat of this story is so damn good I’m not gonna focus on that. I will instead focus on a gripe I have. I feel as though once Lou walks through the door the tension for me drops significantly and I can’t pin point why. maybe it’s because gramps dialogue feels more driven by duty then love (IM NOT SAYING I DONT SEE THE LOVE IN THERE I JUST THINK ITS BEEN OVERTAKEN BY THE GUNSMITH LOOKING FOR A SUCCESOR) , or maybe its the occasions where you say “He wanted to do X, instead he did the opposite”,

      If anything I might suggest trying to make any given moment breathe a bit more, but it is still a phenomenal story that I loved to read and had to look really hard for something to critique.

  14. Excalibur’s Abyss

    Shawnee Bysh

    The skies over the kingdom of burnt umbra pastures are filled with golden orange hues. As I embarked on the great journey to Excalibur’s abyss. The lady of fire is the protector of a sword hidden in a pool of lava, awaiting the chosen one to retrieve it. The prophecy states that someone must be strong enough to take the sword from the lava’s hot bath, where it will transform into the magical Excalibur.

    My face is covered as I travel through different lands. In accordance to legends, if someone is exposed to fire smoke for too long, they can be killed where they stand. I reached the pit of the lava spring after a long journey. Approaching the lava, I saw it bubbling and whirling like a vortex. As I approach the brink of triumph, the golden skeleton engraved shaft of the sword becomes visible at the edge of the lava, a mere feet away. As I edge towards it, a being transforms before me from within the liquid pool. A beautiful woman morphed into being. Her eyes were the color of amber jewels as her hair flows like the sun is adorned upon her.

    She does not speak words, only somehow invades my thoughts. I must complete several tasks before allowing myself to touch the sword. With what I have fought a lava and stone armies vigorously defending myself. Destroying the last of them, as seas of hot water from a nearby spring storm glowed in my direction as the lady of lava’s eyes glowed in the brightest flame I’ve ever encountered. As she warns, I cannot defeat the lady of the lava. Scalding liquid water barreled against the mountain as I raced to the lava pool’s edge. The sword’s handle was now within my grasp with all my might, pulling it from the ground. It transformed into the sword within a breath.

    It blinds me even as I keep my grasp firm and as a grand nova vanishes before my eyes, whispering in my mind. I am now the possessor of the Excalibur sword for all eternity.

    1. Xavier Twentyone Avatar
      Xavier Twentyone

      This reminds me of Arthurian Legend with The Lady of the Lake replaced with The Lady of Lava and the lake replaced with a pool of lava (volcano should be more suited other than “pool of lava”).

      Whats interesting in this story is that the hero had to went through several trials to get Excalibur, but I don’t remember Arthur had to went through a lot to get Excalibur… I don’t know, I’m not familiar with Arthurian legend hehe. I feel like there are some scene where it needs improvement such as when the protagonist fought against lava army because the introduction to the army is too brief even though it should be something that is flash out (I mean the protagonist was about to fight literal supernatural armies).

      Other interesting scene is when the protagonist became blind when pulling Excalibur. It reminds me of St. Paul’s story on how he became blind before becoming the follower of Jesus. In a sense, that they intentionally or unintentionally lose their sight in exchange for some sort of power or blessings. And just like St. Paul who became a servant of God for the rest of his life, this story’s protagonist will become the servant of Excalibur forever. Yes, a servant of Excalibur, because the protagonist is denied death in order to wield Excalibur (which means he cannot be free from material world and transcend to metaphysical for, may be, a more peaceful state of existence).

      Thanks for sharing this story Shawnee!

      1. Thank you, Xavier. 🙂 I may actually be expanding upon this at a later date.

        1. Xavier Twentyone Avatar
          Xavier Twentyone

          Good, keep it up!

  15. Arith_Winterfell Avatar
    Arith_Winterfell

    “Fortunate Heroes” (Alinar Setting)

    By: Arith_Winterfell

    “Nobody really knows who started the practice,” Jadish said tapping a taloned finger against the tabletop, “just that both sides used transmutation magics and that it kept escalating.”

    Nordran, the young man across the table, sat listening with rapt attention.

    “At first it was just short-term transmutations, like turning a man into a beast for a short time, or perhaps buffs that enhanced strength or skill. It didn’t stop there,” Jadish paused before continuing. “Such changes didn’t last long enough for the longer grueling battles. So, the Sorcerer Lords began using transformation rituals that lasted longer. Then drew on still more magical power. Finally, they managed transformations so profound that they were not only permanent, but also passed on from one generation to the next. Of course, the results varied, these were experiments after all.”

    “And that’s how they made the great war heroes!” Nordran added naively.

    Jadish grimaced. “Those were the fortunate sons. Those who were stronger and faster, but still just looked like ordinary men. They were lauded as heroes when they came home. Then there were those like me,” Jadish rapped his knuckle against his horned visage. “We didn’t get to come home to welcoming parades and adulations. We were lucky to be welcomed into our own homes. Then there were those who didn’t get to come home at all.”

    “Those who died you mean?” asked Nordran.

    “No,” Jadish said quietly, “the one’s who ran screaming into the wilds. The ones who lost control and were chased from towns. The ones who became beast headed bandits. The man-wolves and the Orgknocks. The ones who lost their minds altogether and forgot what it was to be human at all.”

    Monsters, thought Nordran. Though he was at least smart enough to not say it to Jadish’s face.

    “So boy,” Jadish said with his eyes glittering goldenly, “do you still want to sign up to be a champion for the Sorcerer Lords?”

    Nordran swallowed hard. If it meant escaping poverty and debt, then yes, it was worth the risk.

    1. Reinkarnitor Avatar
      Reinkarnitor

      An interesting take. To list the consequences of becoming the sword for someone.

      I also really loved this “origin story” for monsters. Every fantasy world has them. Goblins, Orcs, and so on, but few talk about where they actually come from. It’s just that these creatures have become so natural to fantasy settings that their origin is not even discussed anymore, they were just always there. But even they must have evolved from something…

      And the take here that they were ones humans where magical experiments went wrong…man…I love that take. I am pretty certain, the way Jadish explains it here, that most humans even forgot about that.

      Anyway, great work, keep it up ^^

    2. Berith Quinn Avatar
      Berith Quinn

      I love the amount of world building that is implied in such a small piece. Turning humans into monstrous weapons for a chance of glory and to serve their country, only to be ostracised as foul beasts that are not deserving humanity. A society that can push the progress of transmutation magic, but cannot even care for the poor and destitute. Honestly does beg the question, who are the true monsters. Those that are transmuted, or those that perform the rituals.

  16. Prisoner’s mind (Morgan & Alea)

    By Reidrev

    « Are you… okay? We can wait outside. »

    «No… Thanks, Alcos, I am fine. » Morgan was sitting near the forge, focusing, trying to pry his own mind. « I have to do this. I can’t avoid hot temperatures forever. »

    « I understand that, truly I do, but… I could fill buckets with your sweat right now. »

    Morgan ignored him. He was feeling it, the sizzling in the back of his mind incensed by the swelter. He wanted to know and tame this will inside his own. A child drawing his fingers near the candle’s flame, longing to see if he could somehow wield it.

    Sparks flew from the hammering, just close enough, bright enough to cast the child into the fire. Morgan was instantly lit ablaze. His whole skin felt the heat, and his heart felt it too, palpitating as if exploding in his chest. Morgan tried to breathe, the memory of sulfur burned his lungs instead.

    Morgan ran out, or perhaps he was pulled out. He was dying, maybe crying. He fell or was thrown into the mud, bile pouring out of his throat.

    His heart, after some eternities, calmed down. He looked at his unbound hands, he looked at Alcos then he looked at the endless sky.

    « I’m so fucking stupid. » he began, his voice as coarse as ever. « It’s empty. Why did I think it was anything but? »

    Alcos threw his arm around Morgan’s shoulder, sitting down next to him. « Are you alright? »

    « No, of course not. I thought… I thought there was something good about it! I thought there was some bestial, primal instinct I could tap into. But there’s nothing in this tumour! Just sulfur and chains and heat. » Morgan exploded angry and ashamed, puke freezing on his chin. The cold air of winter kept the sickness at bay. Not him, impotent and weak.

    Alcos said nothing, he held Morgan tighter and the pair looked in silence at the endless freedom of the night sky.

    1. Sanguinerus Avatar
      Sanguinerus

      Okay, this story seems to suffer from the same problem as mine. Then environment isn’t that clear beyond ther fact that there’s a forge there, and it’s hot.
      Also I found it diffiult to know who was actually talking at the start. It would be better to use more active language, at least at the start to help the reader envision what’s going on and who is present.

      However, once we get past that you have a good way of guiding the reader though the scene. In microfiction, I always say it’s good to try and use at least two active instances of using the senses as it helps get into the character’s shoes:

      “He was feeling it, the sizzling in the back of his mind incensed by the swelter.” Great use of thermoception.

      “His whole skin felt the heat” A seperate, more intense heat. Not redundant. Good follow up.

      “his heart felt it too, palpitating as if exploding in his chest” Good use of proprioception, also speaks to the character’s state of mind.

      “Morgan tried to breathe” Just like your second use of fire, this emphasises the aforementioned proprioception without feeling redundant.

      “Morgan ran out, or perhaps he was pulled out. He was dying, maybe crying. He fell or was thrown into the mud, bile pouring out of his throat.” This bit I like less. If the story was written in the first person from Morgan’s perspective it would convey his uncertainty, but you’re the narrator, you should know what’s going on. Though this isn’t exactly a rule of thumb, it felt disjointed.

      “His heart, after some eternities, calmed down.” Third use of proprioception (pretty rare on this site lol). It describes a change in emotional state.

      “He looked at his unbound hands, he looked at Alcos then he looked at the endless sky.” Three uses of sight in quick succession. This active use of sight does a great job elaborating on the change in emotional state. The protagonist is getting his bearings gathering himself again. Very good.

      “Alcos threw his arm around Morgan’s shoulder” Good use of touch.

      “puke freezing on his chin. The cold air of winter kept the sickness at bay.” Gross… but a great use of thermoception that provides a good juxtaposition from the start of the story.

      “he held Morgan tighter” Good use of pressure.

      “the pair looked in silence at the endless freedom of the night sky.” Another use of sight and the absense of sound (which also counts in my book).

      It’s clear that the story is rich in experience that readers can understand and empathise with, feeling all that the characters do within the story. Great job.

      1. Thanks for the review^^
        Believe it or not, my first draft was even LESS descriptive^^” But yeah I was a bit blocked by the word limit but it’s also something I simply overlooked, I was focused on writing the characters and nailing the panic attack, I didn’t think about the scenery which was as important. I think I could have made it a lot better by just adding that Morgan “climbed the stairs” or “slammed the back door” and not just “he ran out”.

        For the part of the uncertainty, I am trying to write in the third person limited. That might be what caused the confusion ^^” I wanted to show that Morgan was completely out of it without just telling but perhaps that was a bit too unfocused.

        For the sensory descriptions, I thank you for teaching me the word proprioception, It’s good to know ^^

    2. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      Hm… I like lots of elements in this one, but I think I didn’t really get the crux of it. Something that makes it function and tells its own tale was lost on me, so this is be a difficult review to make.

      As Sanguinerus pointed out, the descriptions on what is going on and where they are is a bit vague – which in this particular story makes a bit difficult to envision what is really going on. Specially with some choice of words when Morgan explain/complains about what just went on – I know he is trying to harness some power, which is fire-based in some sense… but is it from the fire itself, or from something strange going on with him, that gives him a strange affinity to fire? There is something very poetic in how he describes what he discovered about it and how he feels about it (“Just sulfur and chains and heat”), but it is a bit unclear, and this compounds with the vagueness of the story.

      So there is this strange thing in which I really liked the language you employed, but I thing the same choice of language hurts the clarity of the story a bit.

      And I also have an impression that there is a bit of a rush in changing the tone and the overall ideas we are presented in each section of the story – from the beginning in which things are being discussed and decided, to his test with all its descriptions and sensory information, to the discussion where Morgan says what has just happened, to that last line, which introduces a contrast that feels a bit too rushed to my test. I think that would work better in a longer piece, but in such a short story, it feels a bit odd compared to the other sections.

      So I’d like to comment on other elements, but the truth of the matter is that to me it read almost like a cryptic poem more than a narrative. I like the images and language choice, but I can’t really say I followed the whole story.

      But keep on writing, and thanks for sharing. Morgan is a very interesting and complex character, and I can’t wait in seeing more of him.

      1. Thanks for the review and you are absolutely right. I know so much about the context that I sometimes forget people don’t have that luxury.
        And the weird thing is that I talked to some people about this story and wanted their advice but I gave them all one piece of information and I couldn’t give you : What Morgan is experiencing is a panic attack due to previous trauma.

        I wanted to make sure I represented that accurately so I told people “Yeah, it’s a representation of a panic attack and I want to make sure that I did well. What do you think” And I completely forgot that I didn’t make it clear enough in the story that it was indeed a panic attack.

        For the description, it’s a very dumb thing, I thought a forge, was the place for the whole building BUT I found out recently that a forge can also be just the oven. Which is how, I think, the confusion started. There’s also the lack of mention of the outside, of some stairs or such, of a smithy doing the hammering.
        The word limit really worked against me there but I’ll get better at it ! (eventually)

        Now for what’s really happening :
        Morgan has spent a long time imprisoned in a special kind of prison, think solitary confinement but the heat is extreme and the air is slightly caustic and filled with sulfur. The point is: If it’s too hot to think, move or breathe the prisoners won’t have the physical or mental strength to plan an escape.
        And that’s exactly what happened. Morgan devolved into a beastly state to survive long enough for him to be released.

        But he has deep mental scars from the experience. He feels like his brain will constantly try to return him to that “bestial survival mode” each time he is reminded of the prison and he feels that, in the back of his mind constantly and even more so in hot temperatures.

        So, he wanted to confront those triggers, and get used to them, because he plainly can’t handle this fragile mental state but also because he thinks he can tap into that bestial state, a “tame my own mind” thing.
        The reason is that he cannot stand not being in control of things (especially his own mind) and he refuses to admit that he got hurt, that he got problems. “There’s something useful and cool about it because if there’s not It’ll mean I am damaged and broken and I am NOT broken”

        So, as they wait for their new swords with his companion he tries to subject himself to the triggering heat of the forge which proves to be too much and causes a violent panic attack.

        (so yeah lots of context and so little time ^^” I tried to hint at what was happening with the title but I should have been more overt like “confronting triggers”, “panic attack” ect ect)

    3. Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma) Avatar
      Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma)

      It’s already been commented on but it is difficult to know what’s going on in the story. It could just be down to the word limit and trying to fit so much in a limited amount of space. You have a lot of wonderful sensory descriptions in this piece, although sadly, with limited words, sometimes its best to sacrifice description for the sake of clarity (I know it hurts, believe me).

      On an emotional level though, I have no idea what’s going on, but I can feel Morgan’s frustration and pain over… whatever he was trying to do! 😛 I have the idea that the descriptions of fire and heat are both literal (they’re in a forge) and metaphorical (the heat of shame and anger), which is a nice touch.

      And as you mentioned in your comment on my piece, you’re French and I assume English is a second language to you. To write such amazing descriptions in a second language does invoke a sense of envy in me (I often struggle to convey things in English, my first language). So be proud that your written English is incredibly good!

      Good work.

  17. Sanguinerus Avatar
    Sanguinerus

    Stop trying to scam people and get a job please Barbara.

    1. Xavier Twentyone Avatar
      Xavier Twentyone

      She already has a job, that is to scam people.

  18. Strong Berry Avatar
    Strong Berry

    Give Him a Hand, Won’t You?
    By Strong Berry

    “Well then, Billy.” Said Master William with his hand in pocket. “Now you will meet your guide and teacher.”

    From his pocket he pulled not only a sword, but also a helmet and armor and a head, which would’ve been very impressive, had it not been all made of cloth, and had the lower half of the armor not been missing, and had the eyes on the head matched in color and didn’t look like cheap marbles.

    “Well, Billy, meet your new teacher: Man-”

    “Is this a joke?” Billy said. “A sock puppet?”

    “Let me explain-”

    “No! You said I was going to learn from the best!”

    “I AM!” Yelled a demonic voice that pushed Billy with its’ startle. He never heard his teacher speak like that. “That was not me.” Said William. “Correct.” The sock puppet spoke again, and moved William’s arm so its’ unmatched eyes, one green and shiny like a gem and the other brown like mud, never moved from Billy. “Is THAT the best you got?” It asked. “Look at him, he probably gets beaten by his nanny!”

    “Hey!” Said Billy. “I’m Master William’s best student!”

    “Yes, Manfred.” Said William to the puppet. “And his resistance to magic would help him against that witch.”

    “He’s resistant to curses…?” The puppet’s tone changed. “I see… did you ever fight witches, boy?”

    “My sister once tried to turn me into a chicken,” Said Billy. “but it… bounced off me, I guess. Does that count?”

    “Manfred, I assure you, Billy is a great fighter.” Said William. “Oh, how silly of me, I forgot to introduce you. Billy, this is Manfred von Kaputskin, a great sword fighter who’s won 42-”

    “Forty-THREE! A win by magic isn’t a win, it’s a CHEAT only dirty witches use!”

    “-42 battles with a cheated loss.”

    “I’ve heard of you.” Said Billy. “Is this why you went missing two months ago?”

    “Hmmph.” Growled Manfred.

    “Billy, you’re the best fighter I have, and Manfred is very experienced. I think you’ll learn a lot if you go with him after that witch. What say you?”

    1. I gotta admit, the idea of a sword-master stuck in the body of a sock puppet is quite endearing to imagine, even if Manfred would probably hit me over the head with his sword, if he heard me say it.

      I like how this can be interpreted in so many different ways. I suspect that either Billy or Manfred takes the place of the sword here, but the question is, who wields who. I could see it going both ways, with Billy using Manfred as a kind of weapon (or at least his sword), whereas Manfred is there to guide him, in a way, wielding him too.

      Well done!

    2. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      This is very funny. And I really like how we can interpret the story in at least two very different ways – either it is very literal, or it is a very imaginative and somewhat intense game of make-believe. And both interpretations are equally funny and intriguing.

      If it had happened in another story, I’d say it would be bad form to use such similar names – but here, the whole thing with a Willaim and a Billy is part of how this work so well and is so full of charm. And I think I caught a funny little joke about a sock going missing, which is hilarious, be it intentional or not (I think it is).

      Well, I love this more imaginative tales, and this one delivers! Thanks for sharing!

    3. Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma) Avatar
      Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma)

      She tried to turn me into a chicken! I got better…

      This piece was hilarious! This really does feel like a Monty Python sketch, with the Black Knight’s obstinacy ingrained in Manfred the sock puppet.

      This does raise many questions. How will Manfred teach Billy? Does he need someone’s hand inside him (that sounds very wrong) at all times in order to operate? Can Manfred operate alone? How did he end up in his new form?

      In any case, well done, a very funny piece!

  19. Ethan Jesse Avatar
    Ethan Jesse

    Anointed, Ye Spire
    By Ethan Jesse

    “By ashen cinders or brazen steel, a furnace lives for one. To forge pristine or burn away, may thy flame be the flesh of thy core. May thy skin be callous like the great castle walls, thy mind and thy being hardy as the hither storm. We hold high the heavy heart, behold the mural of a man no more, and under gracious blessings knight ye of a name forsaken as Captain of the Royal Guard.

    The world around, a light as one.”

    “The world around, a light as one.”

    . . .

    I am a soldier of steel,
    A man of no renown.
    No blade or fire may hurt me,
    For the absence of love is not pain.

    Absence of love is not pain, and this absence of pain be the void of my love. I am a man of no renown, untouched by follies and valor. I am a soldier of steel, clad and resound from a time since forgot. I am the soldier of steel, unbreakable steel, untouchable, unbendable, unending cold steel…

    I do not live, but have lived and will die. I am the howl at the base of the mountain, the monolith for a world that liked things as so. Awaken and march for not the men, but the task, and rend their opposition as a monarch’s vantaknight. If Hell on this Earth be the sorrow of the morning, then may Heaven be the promise of a pawn-man’s oath. If we could clash here together without ever splitting flesh, I could rest easy knowing my life served a coin to be spent.

    Sword edge and spear head,
    Hurt me nevermore,
    For to serve and be of service
    Be the call of my yearning.

    To my king and my people,
    May we live here to die.

  20. Rewan Demontay Avatar
    Rewan Demontay

    N/A

  21. Soul bound
    By Coyotl Martinez

    I made my way through the treetops, watching over the highest bounty I’d ever dared to pursue. I was never a man of risks, but my entire family had fallen ill, and there was no other bounty close enough that could afford my family’s treatment. In fact if I were to succeed I would never have to work a day in my life, that only served to my discomfort however. Tracking this man down was easy, that’s what I’m good at, but the hard part had just begun. He walked through the thick woods without a care, wore no armor, and carried nothing but a sword in his back. Only a fool would think that’s all there is to him. He was hiding something, there’s a reason no person who pursued him ever came back. Which is why I decided to wait until he fell asleep and slit his throat, I knew I held no chance otherwise. And so at night, he leaned his sword against a tree, laid on the bare ground and fell asleep. I waited long into the night making sure his sleep was heavy. Carefully, I approached him and without making a sound, I drew my blade when suddenly the most agonizing, gut wrenching sound came from the sword. I was startled only by a second, but that was enough for the man to grab my arm and throw me a couple yards away. I crashed into a tree and bounced as I hit the ground. I recovered as fast as I could. I should’ve been dead by now. He was toying with me. I got up as he stood there patiently, waiting for me to catch my breath. He drew his sword, and its sounds only got louder. No. They weren’t sounds. They were cries, cries of terror! As that realization hit me. He had already stabbed me through my stomach. I wish that had been the end, but I felt that wretched sword absorbing me, my essence, my soul. I could only look into my jailer’s eyes in despair.
    “Be my sword” he uttered

  22. Loyalty

    By: Iskritt

    “Aimia!” My master stood as I entered his throne room. “I am pleased at your timely arrival.”

    “I do as you command, Lord Helel,” I responded, bowing deeply.

    “As you should.” He stopped beside me, took hold of my chin, and turned my head to face him. “In fact, that is the very reason you have been called here.”

    I said nothing and stayed in a bow. My curiosity was itching for answers, but I knew they would come in time.

    “My servants tell me of your loyalty. Unquestioning obedience and quicker results than any of their underlings, no matter the task.” Helel paused, allowing me to process the praise. “I’d like to put these claims to the test.”

    “I do as you command, Lord Helel,” I repeated.

    “Eager! I like it.” He let go of my chin, allowing my gaze to fall to the floor. “This is my command. I wish for you to go to the mortal realm, and slaughter all that you find.”

    Questions of why quickly filled my head. I had never been to the mortal realm. However, I could not betray the image of pure loyalty Lord Helel held about me. My only response was, “I haven’t got a weapon, my lord.”

    “We can fix that.” In an instant, he grabbed my arm and I screamed as it filled with pain. My hand cracked repeatedly as it extended and malformed. When he finally let go, a fleshy sword now sat upon my wrist. I was breathing deeply, trying to ignore the discomfort, as he admired his work.

    “Now, you have a weapon.” Quickly, he grabbed my shoulders and turned me around to face a portal that had not been there when I walked in.

    “Do my bidding.”

    With a shove, I was in the mortal realm, and a thousand eyes were now on the lone demon that stood before them.

    Caution made me hesitate, but loyalty shoved it aside. My eyes glowed red and my horns flared with infernal power as demon instincts took over. I made sure my master would be proud.

    1. Sanguinerus Avatar
      Sanguinerus

      A dark yet appropraite use of the prompt. I like to focus on setting the scene and using the senses with my critiques.

      You mention that they’re in a throne room, which does come along with some preconsieved notions as to what that would look like, perhaps a gothic style stonework environment and of course a throne. But it does feel a touch bland, I feel at least a little more would help paint the scene.

      As for the senses, I always say to try and use at least two, given the word limit:

      “He stopped beside me, took hold of my chin, and turned my head to face him.” Great use of touch.

      “I said nothing and stayed in a bow.” Good use of proprioception.

      “he grabbed my arm and I screamed as it filled with pain.” Good use of pain, people seldom use pain on this site, it’s good to see.

      “My hand cracked repeatedly as it extended and malformed.” Great use of sound, also helps emphasise the pain. Good stuff.

      “he grabbed my shoulders and turned me around to face a portal” Another use of touch.

      “With a shove” Same instance of touch, but not redundant.

      Your consistant use of senses combined with the first person writing style does a good job to put your reader in the protagonist’s shoes. This appears to be a strong part of your writing, but don’t forget to balance it out with better descriptions of the surroundings. (Difficult with the word limit I know).

      Overall, a great job, well done.

      1. Thank you so much! I definitely agree it could use a bit more visual description, and there are a few lines throughout that probably could have been shaved down for a few words to do so. Thank you for the critique and I am glad you enjoyed it!

  23. A Sharpened Blade
    By Vin

    As Verus stumbles back, hand pressed against the new bleeding wound on his side, he thinks to himself: I’m going to be dead in the next few minutes.

    “Really, just what IS the use of you?” The voice that reverberates around his head is loud and grating, like metal on metal. Verus cringes back, but his opponent does not notice, too busy basking in the jeers of the audience as he raises his bloodied axe over his head towards them.

    “Not the sharpest blade, are you?” The voice continues, relentless. Verus’ vision begins to fuzz at the edges as he feels his sword humming in his hand. He’d felt a presence in his head for a while, ever since he’d picked this sword from the offered selection. At the time he’d thought it was the perfect sword for him, dead man walking: gloomy black steel with a bone-white grinning skull pommel. Something had slithered into his mind when he picked it up but back then, he had chalked it up to his impending sense of doom. He wasn’t a fighter. The arena would eat him alive.

    Now, the presence had sharpened, become a many-bladed thing digging into his head.
    “Focus. Don’t let him kill you.” Verus’ vision clears and he sees his opponent approaching again, sufficiently drunk on the audience’s screams of excitement. “Shift your weight to the left. He keeps attacking from your right. Anticipate. Dodge. Then, when he leaves himself open—“

    Verus’ body shifts and he’s suddenly made very aware that he cannot tell where his arm begins and the sword ends. It’s as if his entire body has been honed into a killing weapon. The sword slides cleanly into the side of his opponent’s neck. A silence rolls over the crowd as the body thumps audibly onto the ground; then, the screaming cheers begin.

    “Very good. Very, very good.” The voice has become a lighter rasp in his head now. It feels like someone lightly running a blade up and down his thoughts. “I can work with what I got.”

    1. Wangles Bojangles Avatar
      Wangles Bojangles

      This is a neat take on the “thrown into a situation and forced to survive” trope. I like the idea this obviously powerful, sentient weapon was innocuous in appearance that it was overlooked for more intimidating weapons except by this one random guy. I like the idea that it doesn’t possess and control, but rather influences and coerces. As if it believes teaching its weilder to fight better is preferable to controlling them itself. It’s none of a partnership. Great work.

    2. I am always a fan of the “voice in your head” type stories, and I think this does it very well. I love how the sword admonishes its wielder for not being smart by saying “not the sharpest blade”, both a play on “not the sharpest tool in the shed” as well as the fact that it, itself, is a sharp blade. Fun wordplay.

      The only nitpick I might have is that it seems really quick how the main character goes from getting hit and obviously struggling to getting a clean decapitation against the seemingly superior foe. It might be a slight limit of word count, but I think having an earlier setup that the sword can influence his actions in some way, beyond just a voice in his head, would do a lot to make it seem more fluid.

      Other than that, I still think it’s a great story and well done!

  24. Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma) Avatar
    Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma)

    Fight at the Museum!
    by Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma)

    The glass ceiling of Le Grand Musée was shattered not by two women, but by two cartwheeling men crashing through it. One fellow, dressed in a fine silky blue cape and bearing a twirled moustache, slid down the tusk of a mammoth skeleton and flipped onto the balcony of the first floor. The other man, sporting a rich purple frockcoat with absurdly long tails flapping down to his calves, grabbed a marble statue’s spear with both hands, and spun himself around to land on the opposing balcony. A powdered, white wig landed perfectly on his head.

    “I say, Marquis, old chap,” said the wigged man in classy English brogue, “We appear to have misplaced our blades. What say we call it a draw and return to our duel another time?”

    “Absolument non!” cried the moustachioed man in an outrageous French accent, “You ‘ave insulted moi for ze last time, Viscount! Zis time, I shall put une end to you!”

    The Marquis spun around and shattered the glass casing of a caveman skeleton display. He snatched one of the poor Neanderthal’s bones, leapt from the balcony, swung from the chandelier, and landed where his opponent had been standing.

    “Damn and blast!” cursed the Viscount, springing backwards and grabbing a bemused-looking swordfish from the wall. He swung it by the tail, its pointy nose meeting the Marquis’ flailing femur.

    “Only un amateur believes zat un sword must be une pièce of métal!” exclaimed the Marquis.

    “Quite right,” concurred the Viscount, “With enough imagination, anything can be a weapon!”

    The two harried and parried with their bizarre weapons into a hall of mannequins dressed in gorgeous vestments. Finally, with a wild flourish, the Viscount knocked the Marquis’ bone away, sending it flying into the mouth of a stuffed dog.

    “Concede!” demanded the Viscount, “You’ve been disarmed!”

    “Not quite!” grinned the Marquis, grabbing a mannequin and knocking the swordfish away with its wooden hand.

    In the end, neither man could lay a scratch on the other. However, the egregious destruction they caused did do a lot of damage to their bank accounts!

    1. I love this so much.
      This is great the absurd way of speaking, mannerism, clothing and the fight !
      I liked how you used the museum setting to introduce the weird weapons that was very clever of ya.
      Another thing that I found perfect was that… We don’t know why they are fighting. And honestly it’s better that was don’t !

      Three lil thing I noticed tho.

      First, ”not by two women” maybe it’s a very clever reference and I just missed it but I didn’t feel like it was necessary or belonged here, even if it’s indeed a reference to something. It’s just… A different brand of humor from the rest of the story.

      Second, ”absolument non” I can gloat my nationality a bit but I am french and unless you are going for broken french you wouldn’t say ”absolument non” mais ”absolument pas” a good rule of of thumb is that ”no” translate to ”non” and ”not” to ”pas”

      Third. The ending. I was a bit worried that the ending would fall a bit flat and although I think you handled it perfectly with the ”they didn’t scratched each other” and the fact that they, I presume, get arrested and charged for their crime. But my only gripe is this : I have to assume they get arrested. The only thing I know is that somehow they had to pay for the damage… That’s it and, in my opinion, that’s not enough.

      1. Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma) Avatar
        Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma)

        Glad you enjoyed it. About your three points:

        1. In English, “breaking the glass ceiling” is a metaphor for overcoming barriers in a workplace. It’s mostly used in relation to women and minorities overcoming discrimination. However, in my story, the glass ceiling has a very literal meaning, and in this case is broken by the two central characters!

        2. I was kind of going for broken French, so I personally would stick with “absolument non!”. However, I am (attempting) to learn French, so thanks for the tip!

        3. Yeah, 350 words is a bitch and honestly I could have written way more with these two characters. I tried my best to wrap up the ending in a funny and coherent way. Bear in mind, one is a Marquis and the other a Viscount… how do you know that they didn’t use their titles to escape handcuffs? 😉

        Hope that addresses your points, and glad you liked it!

    2. DeathsHead419 Avatar
      DeathsHead419

      A very stylish and funny little tale. My only real critique is that ‘bearing a mustache’ is a little oddly worded, and unless it is a burden for him, I would have gone with a different word. And personally, these two lines:

      “Only un amateur believes zat un sword must be une pièce of métal!” exclaimed the Marquis.

      “Quite right,” concurred the Viscount, “With enough imagination, anything can be a weapon!”

      …are a little on the nose, too camera winking, for my taste. But that’s a me thing, so take that one with a grain of salt.

      1. Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma) Avatar
        Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma)

        Glad you liked it. If I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure about “bearing a moustache” either. However, I wanted to use a different word than “had”, but couldn’t think of a better one.

        As for your other point, I have to fulfill the prompt requirement somehow! Also, it was an excuse to write more broken French (which was a lot of fun)! :p

    3. Xavier Twentyone Avatar
      Xavier Twentyone

      A funny story indeed. I love how I can understand the mustached man’s word even though he spoke in broken english. I also love how the characters have their own style of clothing and mannerism as if they are characters from an old movie or something (or maybe a theater). The ending gave me a bit of context that they were not men that came from 1800’s, but rather modern men that somehow duel for… something??? They must be really rich for doing all of that.

      I do wanna ask the background of the characters and why they do what they did, because to me this seems like a scene and not a full story. Maybe you are writing a story and this is just a scene from your other story?

      nevertheless, good work!

      1. Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma) Avatar
        Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma)

        Actually this piece is completely original, although I definitely want to expand it into a more complete short story. The idea of two nobles in fancy clothing using anything but swords to carry out their duel is just too good to restrict to 350 words!

        I actually don’t know what century the story is set in! The men are wearing clothing from the 1700s, but Neanderthal skeletal remains were not identified until 1856. If it is modern times, like you interpreted, then the idea of two 21st century men dressing in 300 year old clothing and fighting with makeshift weapons in a museum does make the story even more funny!

        But glad you enjoyed the story anyway!

    4. Strong Berry Avatar
      Strong Berry

      What a nice little fight! This feels straight out of a cartoon or a comedy sketch, with the stereotypes and fighting because of an insult, feels right at home with the mood you were trying to create. And the ending- wow! A perfect fit for this kind of sketch! Now I wanna see more of these two.

      1. Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma) Avatar
        Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma)

        Haha, glad you enjoyed it. I am thinking of expanding the story beyond 350 words, so stay tuned!

  25. J. J. Peterson Avatar
    J. J. Peterson

    A Sword of Fire
    J. J. Peterson

    The shadows around Bazden laughed quietly, the rustling of spears and the crunching of feet slowly coming closer to him through the night. His hand held his torch in a fierce grip. “Stay back!” he yelled, waving the torch about, “Don’t come a step nearer!”
    The first hideous goblin stepped into the flickering light of the torch, smiling sickly. Others followed, ringing Bazden in. “Back!” he yelled, shoving his torch towards the nearest goblin. It side-stepped the thrust, then the goblins rushed him.
    Bazden huddled around his torch, hoping desperately for his old sword. “Give me a sword,” he thought desperately, “Please, give me a sword.” The torch flickered in the wind, the grew brighter, making Bazden sweat despite the cold sweat of fear coating his body.
    “Be my sword, please I beg you. Be my sword.”
    The goblins were steps away now, swords levelled at Bazden.
    “BE MY SWORD!”
    In his hands the torches flame jumped and leaped, writhing into a blade of pure fire. Bazden jumped up swinging his sword in a large arch, the nearest goblins falling back with howls of agony, skiing alight. Bazden felt his clothes begin to smoulder and his skin melt. He spun, sending a wave of fire out from him which enveloped the horde, turning them straight to ash.
    More goblins fell from the trees and came out of the night to replace the fallen, running at Bazden. “Flamespitter!” they growled in their barbaric tongue, “Give it back. It should never have been yours!”
    A river of fire flowed of Bazden’s sword turning the ground to magma, leaving no trace of the goblins that had been there. He spun, releasing ripples of flame in all directions, but still the throng of goblins pressed towards him, more numerous than before. Bazden raised his sword and drove it point first into the ground. A ball of fire exploded out from him, decimating the dying land all around and lighting the darkness. Every living thing turned to ash, and even that ash was incinerated as goblins, trees, and critters were caught up in the torrent of flame. Bazden himself melted, clothes and hair bursting into flame. A few hours later, one lone goblin scrambled across the smouldering ash and grabbed the sword, now an unlit torch. “It has been recovered. What shouldn’t have been wielded by men, has been lost by man.”

    1. What an ending! I thoroughly enjoyed reading your story; the desperation that Bazden wrestles with while attempting to drive back the goblins was very well captured in his frantic movements with his torch.

      One feedback I would give regards the pacing of your story, especially towards the beginning. When you wrote “the goblins rushed him”, it felt like the action would pick up then but it continued with Bazden and his torch. If that sentence was moved after the torch became the sword, it would help to kickstart the dramatic scene where the torch transforms into the sword and he begins to fight them in earnest with his newly transformed weapon. Other than that though, I think you had some beautiful imagery regarding the magic of the sword, and I could visualize the fight scenes very well. I especially enjoyed that ending, which tops the story off with a note of warning after a very epic episode.

  26. Xavier Twentyone Avatar
    Xavier Twentyone

    Piao Liang Meaning Beautiful: An Absurd Story
    By Xavier Twentyone

    Behold this sword named Piao Liang! A single-edged two-handed sword who had slaughtered an entire army before! And her master, Chin Ming, who was a glorious warrior who could fly on the battlefield!

    Together they were Greece and tragedy, destined to meet.
    Together they met at the battlefield, destined to rule it.
    Together they married under a Plum Blossom, rejoicing in their history.
    Together they would become a legend… if not for Chin Ming’s atrocity.

    You see… after many hard battles and many furious fights, their relationship, to say the least, became distant. Chin Ming, who was a warrior for hire, never had a mother who took care of him. Meaning, he never knew how to treat a woman. He only had his mercenary father take care of him, and in return, adopted his father’s belief in women.

    “People are like women. They cannot be trusted!” Chin Ming’s father said. “If you’re rich and powerful, you can pick any woman you want and sleep with them how many times you want, but be careful when devoting yourself to them, or you’ll end up just like me.”

    At that time, Chin Ming didn’t understand what his father had just said. All he had understood was that women are like shoes; you can try and use them a couple of times and never use them again.

    Piao Liang on the other hand, who still wanted to renew their love, tried her best to become a better sword than before. She sharpened her edge regularly, swapped her grip and pommel for a more beautiful one, and even bought a new scabbard so that Chin Ming could carry her easily.

    One night when Piao Liang was waiting for her husband, a mysterious old lady appeared in front of her house’s window.

    “I fear that your husband has cheated with another sword. I suggest you use this perfume for its smell can kill eight men.”

    Piao Liang refused to use the perfume and stabbed the old lady instead. The old lady magically turned into Chin Ming. The perfume magically turned into a corrosive liquid bottle.

    1. Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma) Avatar
      Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma)

      This feels like some ancient East Asian fable. Or is it actually based on a real story, just like the Siluman?

      I love how you anthropomorphise the sword in this piece. It seems absurd to imagine a sword sharpening itself, but in this piece you write it so casually that one can almost believe it.

      The build-up of Chin Ming’s character is great too. You can see how his downfall was set up with the misogynistic beliefs ingrained into him by his father. And the story is even more tragic and heart-breaking by the fact that Piao Liang truly loved him and had faith in him.

      In the end, the only person who couldn’t be trusted was Chin Ming!

      Probably my only criticism is the very last line. I think “bottle of corrosive liquid” would work better. Or “bottle of acid”, something like that.

      Other than that, great work!

      1. Xavier Twentyone Avatar
        Xavier Twentyone

        Thanks for your comment Shinigamma!

        Sadly, this is not an East Asian parable. I made all of this story up from the characters to the plot. It is tragic about what happened to Piao Liang, but for me it offer some sort of freedom from physical and emotional damage that will happened if Piao Liang didn’t stab the mysterious old lady. At least she only need to reconcile with the fact that she killed her husband.

        And about the bottle art, you are correct lol, i should has used simpler sentence like “bottle of acid”. My bad for not editing this story before submitting it.

        Once again thanks for your feedback!

    2. An interesting little story. The beginning feels a tiny bit cliche, but you have an interesting twist at the end and something to be proud of.

      Perhaps articulate the speech a bit more, try and avoid things that everyone else is using ad infinitum, such as “you see…” because it can set the tone of a story in simple words, and make the reader go “here we go again.”

      I have no issues with the actions taken in the story and not much feedback to give for I don’t see much of anything wrong here in the prose, and this feels like something out of oldschool mythos.

    3. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      This one is pretty interesting. I particularly like the choice of language – this feels like an old tale, but it has also a certain casuality flavoring the formality of storytelling that makes it different, and fits a lot with the tone of the story.

      I am quite intrigued as to what was Ching Ming plan at the end – seems like his design was a bit drastic if he just wanted to be even freer from Piao Liang – but as dead man tell no tale, this is now a mystery. And I really like that ending – very unexpected, and also strangely satisfying.

      I think your stories have a very particular voice that is one of their highlights, and it is a good thing to see you relying on it in this one as well. This way of narrating and the language choices are very full of character, and from what I’ve seen, this seem to fit some very different story premises. So they are all varied, and still recognizable as carrying a special quality to them. Keep up the good work in writing!

      Thanks for sharing!

  27. The Old Blacksmith. A Story in the Alchemy’s Kin Universe by Macboizen. Written by Alex Nightingale.

    Clang.

    The massive hammer was brought down again and again, each metallic sound undercut by an exhausted gasp.

    Clang.

    There were better and more modern methods he could use for this, but there was something to be said, about forging in the old ways. Something satisfactory to himself and his clients. He closed his eyes, taking in the scent from the forge, letting the coal roar, forcing his will into the metal beneath him.

    Clang.

    He applied the final strike with his hammer, before taking the still red-hot blade in a gloved hand and dropped it into a bucket of water. It sizzled and cooked, smoked and misted. He wiped the sweat off his wrinkled brow, before raising his hand. The metal followed his call and the bullets rose from the water, still glowing slightly.

    He drew them close to his lips and blew on them, slowly and deliberately, before, pressing it into a pot of soil. The soil grew hot and began to smoke, but the cool moisture.

    He waited, his long, grey beard itching slightly from the coal dust. He wiped the sweat off his bald head, his gaze upon the sword sticking out of the flowerpot, like some grotesque tree. While the sword cooled, the old blacksmith took out some leather and started wrapping it around the hilt.

    There had been many weapons he’d forged, for many clients. Swords, yes, but also knives, axes, bullets and more outlandish tools. His command of metal helped make his creations unique; unique and expensive. But well worth the high price-tag. He’d never met a dissatisfied customer before. And this time, his customer would not be either.

    After he was done wrapping the hilt in leather, he pulled out a small splinter from his apron pocket. It was barely larger than a fingernail, gleaming like a jewel. The metal on the blade parted slightly, as he pushed it in and he pulled the now cold sword from the soil.

    “Will you be mine?” he asked, quietly.

    The sword seemed to nod in the flickering light of the forge. The blacksmith smiled.

    1. Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma) Avatar
      Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma)

      The onomatopoeia really draws the reader in straight away. Its repetition builds up the atmosphere, so you really feel like you’re in a blacksmith’s workshop.

      I love the simplicity of the story. Its quite a literal take on the prompt, no fancy metaphors or anything. In many ways, that kind of fits the down-to-earth nature of a blacksmith. This lets the story simmer in its beautiful imagery, while giving us an insight into blacksmith’s mind.

      I also like the last few lines too. There’s an almost romantic energy in the air as the blacksmith whispers those words to his newly forged blade. It tells you how much heart has gone into his craftsmanship.

      Really well done!

    2. Strong Berry Avatar
      Strong Berry

      This is a very interesting opening. Or backstory, could work both ways in my opinion. There seems to be an implication of this smith as a magical smith thay enchants his weapons, and I think the final paragraph makes this clear. A line that slightly bothers me is “And this time, his costumer would not be either.” If he is making the sword for himself, he’s not really a customer. Not that it’s bad phrasing- I just think it could be expressed better, maybe. Regardless, you did a good job!

  28. Reinkarnitor Avatar
    Reinkarnitor

    To finally trust

    by Reinkarnitor

    Emma was confused…and for the first time she actually showed that confusion, because there was no way she could have held that back.

    “X…why…why did you come back? How did you even find me?” she asked the young man in front of her.

    “You know I have my ways, Emma” the detective answered her.

    She just shook her head. This guy was unbelievable. She knew that much already when she first saw him. But that he was even capable of tracking her down…

    Even so, she quickly got her emotions under control and put up her emotionless facade again.

    “You should not be here. It is dangerous” she berated him.

    “I know. The guy who is attacking London right now…he is your old familiar…isn’t he?” he asked her, and she slowly nodded.

    “A mistake from my past…”

    “Which you can not get rid of alone.”

    She looked at him and her cold gaze glimmered up with yet another spark of confusion for a second.

    “I set you free…I told you that you don’t have to stay my familiar. I accepted it was wrong to force you…so why are you still here?”

    X’ expression turned soft.

    “I did not want to be controlled…that is true…you were really pushy…but I know now why. I know how often you were betrayed in the past.”

    She looked down at the ground.

    “Things don’t have to be like that. I don’t have to be controlled. You don’t have to be afraid. We don’t have to be alone.”

    He offered her his hand.

    “But you have to trust me, Emma.”

    She could not believe it…in this night alone she experienced two ‘first times’. Letting a familiar go…and him returning to her on his own. This young man…this human…he was different from the ones before.

    “I…I want to trust you” she quietly said.

    “Then let’s get rid of the bastard!” X smiled at her friendly.

    She took his hand, tears forming in her eyes “Yes! Please be my sword, my beloved familiar!”

    The moon crest appeared on the back of his hand.

    “As you wish, milady.”

    1. Arith_Winterfell Avatar
      Arith_Winterfell

      I really liked the exploration in this piece of our return to the dynamic between Emma and X. It was really interesting that she had released him from being her familiar, and heartwarming that he returned wanting to help her. That said, it raised a question in my mind. I assumed (perhaps wrongly) that the villain who was attacking London was doing so by abusing the powers Emma had given him. But if she can rescind someone being her familiar as she did with X, why not simply withdraw her powers from her former familiar? Perhaps I’m not seeing things clearly here, or perhaps you meant she had taken back her powers but the villain was using other powers to attack London. So I was slightly confused about that. (Perhaps I’m overthinking things. XD )

      That said, I really did like the drama of X’s return to being her familiar and how they prepare to strike back at the villain attacking London and save the day. A good story all in all!

      1. Reinkarnitor Avatar
        Reinkarnitor

        Thank you Arith ^^

        Sadly a 350 words limit lets me only put that much information into the prompt and I wanted to focus on X coming back to be Emmas sword, and could only briefly mention the events before that.

        In the main story, the guy attacking London is a familiar of Emma from a long time ago. He betrayed her and she then, as she always does when her familiars go rogue, uses her powers to send him to hell (yes that is literally how she judges xD)

        Anyway, in this case, this lold familiar came back from hell, the first who ever escaped.

        At the time, X has already been her familiar, but upon realizing how good hearted he is, she felt bad for tricking him into being her familiar, so she released him.

        But when her old familiar returned, X knew she could not go against hom alone, so he returned to her, because he finally realized why she was so afraid of betrayel that she tricked him to be her familiar before.

        So yeah…thats A LOT.

        Because of the prompt I just wanted to focus on the one scene where he returns to her and hoped that the short mentioning of the situation at least gives a general idea xD

        Anyway, I am glad you still liked it and maybe for another prompt I can get more into Emmas backstory…and her past ^^

    2. Strong Berry Avatar
      Strong Berry

      And so Emma and X begin their epic adventure! A nice opening that makes you want to see more of this duo, Emma and X. Is X like a sci-fi James Bond? What does Emma have to do with the destruction of London? So many questions! My only nitpick is that sometimes, the letter at the start of sentences aren’t capital.

      Good job!

      1. Reinkarnitor Avatar
        Reinkarnitor

        Thank you for your comment ^^

        The two knew each other long before that scene. It was already far into my original story when this scene happened.

        Yet I can see how you may think it is the beginning ^^

        To answer your question, X is a detective who specializes on supernatural cases and Emma is the “guardian of London” a ghost whose duty it is to keep balance between supernatural and humans.

        The entire story plays in Late 19th century London,and the world is basically the same as ours, just that all the actual lagends and fables and supernatural beings we have in mythology exist unbeknowest to the humans.

        I don’t know what you mean by not capital…do you mean the “…” because those just mean pauses in the speech so it’s still the same sentence. I like to signify breaks like that because no one just speaks in one go.

        Other than that, I am happy you liked the story and the characters I love so much ^^

        (I write about them and two others regulary for the prompts if you ever want to read more xD)

    3. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      I’m sure I’ve heard of this moment being referenced before – but it is interesting to see it unfolding “live”. X and Emma have an interesting dynamic, and it is nice to see how it pays out in this particular moment of their lifes (I’m not sure if life is the correct word for whatever goes on with Emma, but you know what I mean).

      Well, I don’t really have a lot I can comment on this time. This is a very well-encapsulated scene, an interesting look into a pivotal moment, and an emotional journey condensed – all in very few words. That’s a great work of concision, and it does not feel like anything is missing.

      I’ll keep aware of your next ones. Thanks for sharing!

      1. Reinkarnitor Avatar
        Reinkarnitor

        Thank you ^^

        Yeah the moment was indeed mentioned before. I am happy that you like the actual narration of it now.

        Hope whatever I write next about them is to your liking as well ^^

  29. Sanguinerus Avatar
    Sanguinerus

    Fighting Words (Conflict of Dreams)

    By Sanguinerus

    Friedrich von Gottesau smiled gleefully as he admired the beautiful countryside. Wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves and the fields of barley and wheat swayed in kind. He adjusted his tattered top hat which no longer matched his white suit. He took a deep breath of the temperate air as his servant Addler approached him and he turned to acknowledge her.

    “Inquisitor Octus is after you. He intends to brand you with the mark of the inquisition for abdicating your duties.” She stated plainly.

    “I’m not worried about him.” He replied dismissively.

    “Why not? He’s a renowned pyromancer who has a reputation for upholding the tenets of the Sortis religion. You can’t fight him, he’ll burn you to a crisp.”

    “Oh but I can fight him, in a manner of speaking. I’ve heard he likes to pontificate, so I shall duel him, and my tongue shall be my sword. When accuses me then I shall parry!” He said, swinging his arm as though to knock away an attack. “I only left to further my education! I say. And if he rebuts with the fact that I must return immediately. Then riposte!” He continued, gesturing again as though wielding an imaginary sword. “Then while he’s on the back foot, lunge!” He said, thrusting his arm forward. “It is in fact you who is shirking his duty! Pursuing such a frivolous allegation! I say, turning the accusation back on him. He will concede with his pride mortally wounded I assure you.”

    Addler raised an eyebrow, uncertain about his plan, despite his confidence and conviction. Though he had pulled off something similar in the past, and he did have a way with words.

    “Very well then.” She said, accepting his plan of action. They walked down the dirt road in silence for while as they contemplated their future encounters.

    “Failing that of course, I’ll probably just run away. What is he, seventy years old?” Friedrich said, breaking the silence once more.

    “Seventy-three.” Addler corrected him.

    “Alright then, I should be fine either way, there’s no way he can catch me.”

    1. I like this story ^^ it’s really fun and I very much love the character of Friedrich ^^
      The way he describes his argument as if sword fighting and the fact that is argument can be resumed by “no you” is hilarious, he seems like a colourful character who values wits over violence

      The ending is perfect as well, “Well sure, if my bonkers plan doesn’t work I’ll just book it” That was unexpected and appreciated ^^

      There are a few things that I don’t like quite as much, however, mostly things that weight the story down :

      The beginning, after the first paragraph, the dialogue feels very unnatural, it feels like Addler is more speaking to us, the audience, than Friedrich and that’s because you want to clarify things. I know the feeling, you want to name-drop a few important concepts and that’s normal but you could name-drop those things more subtly like having Friedrich think of the mark and having him (or the narration) refer to Octus as a pyromancer.

      Addler, she’s both present without being here, if that makes sense. She doesn’t have a clear personality, she starts stating things plainly but then appears to be worried, she doesn’t give much of a reaction to her boss’s strange mannerisms and crazy plan. She just doesn’t feel like much of a character to me (but that might only be me^^”)

      The ending, it’s great, very great but it should have stopped at “breaking the silence once more” That feels like a punchline! But lengthening it, like you did dampens the effect in my opinion. It should have stayed a punchline.

      And, my biggest problem with your story (which is still very minor mind you, when I told you I enjoyed your tale I truly did !) is the lack of description. It’s easy, I have no idea where those two are. At first, I thought he was looking at the scenery through a window, but Addler approached and did not enter so I was confused. Then, when he started gesturing, he only used his hands which made me think: So he’s indeed sitting down and finally they apparently were walking on a dirt road so how did Addler find him? Where was he walking to? Addler approached him from where?

      Also there where no description of the effect of wind on the characters which once again made me think they were inside ^^”
      It’s a shame because it’s a bunch of minor things, but they piled up and I feel like lightening your text and adding some welcomed description here or there (short little things like “she nodded, steadying her hat on her head”

      But in any case, very funny story and thank you for sharing it !

      1. Sanguinerus Avatar
        Sanguinerus

        Thank you very much for your critique. This is the first time I’ve used characters from my own works as opposed to making up fresh characters for the writing prompt as I usually do and I think you’ve pointed out the problem that people normally have when they do that here.

        There’s a lot of things that need to be cast aside for the story. Both of these characters are from my own book which I’ll be publishing soon. But you’d never know that Addler wasn’t human by reading this, there’s no room. I’ve been told I need to work on sewing descriptions into my stories in a better way and you’ve caught onto their lack thereof here.

        You’re right about the punchline, sometimes less is more and I could have used that space to improve on the descriptions. It’s funny because when I critique other people’s work I focus on setting the scene, yet I’m not that great at it myself. But we’re all here to have fun and learn.

        Thanks again, I’ll focus on this more next time.

  30. A corpse
    By Vex
    (Warning: Gore and Implicit Murder. It’s probably not suitable for the stream)

    Amethyst colored the drowsy sky whilst embers polluted its allure in an air of death. As pretty as the image was, it couldn’t make my nose forget the scent of blood. Especially when it was mixed with feces, mites, and steel. I have tasted this scent for so long that my body is no longer repulsed by it.

    What is the point of continuing this crusade? Haven’t I done enough? A corpse laughed at the notion.

    “It’s a bit too late now, isn’t it? The job needs to be thorough. Otherwise, how can you face your dear, dead sister?”

    The corpse gestures to the bodies of men women and children strewn about the city streets.

    “Pick up your weapon! Finish what you’ve started!”

    I know I know, but this is getting rather manic, isn’t it? Can’t this end already? Unfortunately, my sword begged to differ, its crimson blade already pulling me to its target.

    Arriving at the house I abandoned, I peered through the doorway. Ignoring the homey decor and I focus on the scene by the far wall. There, the window nestled a cradle which had its base bleached in the blood of the parents. The father was on the floor, sword still in hand whilst the mother was slouched over the top of the cradle, head inches from a sleeping baby. She still smiled for her child despite the gaping hole in her back.

    Despite my swords best efforts, my body remained stuck leaning against the door frame. My cheeks streamed hot tears at the sight.

    I really can’t go on. Isn’t this enough? Haven’t I done enough?

    The corpse begins to chuckle.

    “I knew you didn’t have the guts. You are a coward who can’t even get his revenge right.”

    I take a step.

    “Isn’t this what happened to you? Why do you hesitate?”

    I arrive next to the crib.

    “Are they really deserving of mercy after all they did to you?”

    The corpse smiled.

    “That’s better, my sword never lies.”

    1. I don’t quite know to limit on gore and violence in this community, so this is a test run of how much violence I can include. Was this too much? Sorry if it was, let me know and I’ll dial it down for future stories. I hope this doesn’t result in a ban.

      1. this is a deleted comment, no delete button so i had to edit it.

    2. DeathsHead419 Avatar
      DeathsHead419

      Well I thought this was a pretty good, if grim tale. It certainly fits the ‘horror’ suggestion. Though the first line says “Painted” twice and I think rearranging the words a would be good, because it was not immediately clear that you meant “Amathyst” as a color.

      Also I assume that the “corpse” is a voice in the character’s head, though it’s a tiny bit ambiguous

      1. I fixed the painted problem, thanks for the review!

    3. Sanguinerus Avatar
      Sanguinerus

      Ok, so I normally focus on setting the scene and using the senses when I critique. I think they’re important points that help the reader understand the story. But I’ll start saying you shouldn’t bee too worried about gore on here too much as long as you put down a trigger warning, which you did, so let’s move on.

      You wrote the whole thing in first person, which straight away gives it a personal feel, though the drawback is a lack of clarity on some things I’ll elaborate on soon.

      You start with the protagonist looking at a painting, and you follow it up with smell, good uses of sight and smell. I always say to try and use at least two senses so we’re off to a good start in that regard.

      “The corpse gestures to the bodies of men women and children strewn about the city streets.” Another great use of sight.

      “its crimson blade already pulling me to its target.” Though this is a figurative use of touch, it still counts and helps the reader understand that the protagonist is being compelled.

      “I peered through the doorway. Ignoring the homey decor and I focus on the scene by the far wall. There, the window nestled a cradle which had its base bleached in the blood of the parents. The father was on the floor, sword still in hand whilst the mother was slouched over the top of the cradle, head inches from a sleeping baby. She still smiled for her child despite the gaping hole in her back.” This is fantastic, you’re both setting the scene, and using sight, as you’re using the first person style to explore the scene, a delightfully efficient paragraph.

      “my body remained stuck leaning against the door frame.” Good use of touch.

      “My cheeks streamed hot tears at the sight.” Good use of thermoception, also adds to the character’s state of mind.

      So that’s my normal critique, but I do have some qualms about the actual story itself. It’s difficult to understand the actual sequence of events. So they killed a couple of people, then left the house to go outside, killed more people in the street, then looked at a random painting? What, out in the street? Then they returned inside. This is all a bit odd. BUT…

      That might be what you’re trying to do, this is all through the perspective of the protagonist after all, most corpses don’t talk, so that might be a manifestation of the character’s conscience, or madness. That combined with the fact that they seem to be compelled by the sword, adds to the fact that the protagonist might be a bit of a looney. If you take the smells, sights and the painting as merely interpretations of the protagonist you get a surreal look at a disturbed mind losing control. It’s then reminiscent of things like Max Payne. If this was your intention, then you hit the nail on the head. If it wasn’t, then you really need to work on your story structure.

      Regardless, a delightful read either way. Great job.

      1. I’m honored to receive such a thorough review!

        The reason why the plot is all wonky is because I had to shorten it from 500 to 350 words. Most of the cut words where from an opening segment talking about the mc always liked the sky, and his love for his sister. I cut the characters backstory in favor of a deeper look at how messed up in the head he is. If i had another 350 words to work with, the storyline would have made a lot more sense.

    4. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      Interesting choice here.

      I think this story suffers a bit from not being all that clear, but it seems to me that this was a deliberate choice. There is some confusion as to what exactly we are following – is the protagonist coming back to a scene in which a pivotal point in his story happened, or is he experiencing a parallel of his own tragedy in the carnage he is inflicting? I’m not sure how to read it, and I don’t think this confusion is a problem. This kind of parallelism can serve as a writing device, and if so, it is an interesting choice here. But this kind of confusion can compound on other confusing elements, and I think this one kind of overdid this.

      There are some elements that I really liked, though. If I’m reading it correctly, the POV character already seems himself as dead, and calling himself a corpse whenever he has to describe his actions is pretty on point. As his sole remaining motivation is revenge, it is interesting that he basically assign his actions and thoughts to the sword, even when the whole endeavor seems to not make much sense right now… the sword keep the corpse going on, and its only real goal is inflicting the pain that was inflicted on it before.

      Of course, I could also take all those images literaly, and it would also work. But I think the metaphorical language is a more interesting reading.

      I’m a bit torn on the house scene, though. I think that’s the part in which a bit more of clarification would really help tie all the story together and make it shine. As it is, it is clearly an important part of the narrative, but I found the lack of clarity to be a little bit detrimental for how it function as it’s meaningful center.

      Overall, this was a very intense story, and it uses some pretty interesting images and choice of language. My impression is that the word limit hurt you a lot on this one, but even then this ends up being a compelling narrative.

      Thanks for sharing.

  31. Tamela Redfin Avatar
    Tamela Redfin

    Out of the Sheath

    By Tamela Redfin

    Lukas was happy to unite with people of the rebellion. He also could be free of Klon Vatti. But then a face could change everything.

    He was going for a walk with his brother, Otto, gold and orange leaves dancing to the ground when he noticed her. Her pale grey skin, her soft lips, her beautiful blue eyes. She paused, tilting her head before calling out, “Lukey?”

    A shot of adrenaline burst into Lukas’s veins and he ran off. No! It couldn’t be! Reagan was part of Grey Rose?

    “Bruder, slow down.” Otto called out, chasing to catch up. “Why did you break into a sprint?”

    Lukas panted before answering, “I saw her. Reagan.”

    “Your girlfriend?”

    “She was not my girlfriend! We only fell madly in love. And she loved me more than her husband. And I might have freaked out over a pregnancy scare she had…”

    For a while, neither brother said a word. The two stood in the dewey grass.

    Then Otto said, “Odile said always fight for what you believe in. If you love Reagan, show her. Don’t be afraid to stand up for what you believe in, even if it means standing alone. Reagan will appreciate your courage and support.”

    Lukas wrung his hands.

    “You don’t need to be afraid.”

    “Easy for you to say.” Lukas rolled his eyes. “Iris just fell into your arms. I abandoned Reagan when she needed someone.”

    “The wound might need time to heal, yes, but if you break a bone, it will heal stronger, right Lukas?”

    “It’s not the same, Otto.” He frowned.

    “Maybe, but pretend for me.” Otto pleaded.

    Lukas closed his eyes and saw her sitting there, smiling, unlike she normally did. “Otto’s right. I can’t just avoid her forever.” He thought.

    He took a deep breath and shouted, “Reagan, come here!”

    1. The FIRST thing that Otto has to do is apologise profusely to Reagan for (a) leaving her and (b) running away when she recognised him. Lad’s got a lot of grovelling to do there.

      And finding out he’s a dad. Better start making up for that one.

      1. Tamela Redfin Avatar
        Tamela Redfin

        I think you mean Lukas, but yes. He should have stayed despite everything. I feel Reagan will start out being cold to him.

    2. Reinkarnitor Avatar
      Reinkarnitor

      A good take on the prompt.

      I assume that Otto is the sword here who armed Lukas with words and courage basically.

      Still, he will have to do a lot to gain back Reagans favor, if he ever manages to do that at all.

      Yet, now there is no way back anymore, as he shouted her name. No more running.

      A quote which I believe would fit here is:
      “Haven’t you already lifted your foot, preparing to step forward? Then you only have one option. Finish taking that step!”

      A step he started with the help of Otto, his sword ^^

      Nice work!

  32. A Share in the Victory [set in A Devil’s Tale world, Alfarell]
    C. M. Weller

    The hag told all of the truth, and the whole of the prophecy. The vile villain destroying the world that Hero knew could only be stopped with a weapon forged from the blood of their allies. One might think this was a curse. One might believe that this could lead to a narrative filled with inevitable betrayal.

    One might easily expect tragedy from such a prophecy.

    Heroes are heroes BECAUSE they know how to make statements like that work for them.

    The Hero set out to rescue, befriend, and otherwise be amenable to every single creature capable of stringing two thoughts together to make a conclusion. Hero gathered friends like mountaintops gathered snow. They only asked for one thing in return.

    Every season, fill a single preservation phial with their own blood and see it delivered to a specific forge in a specific place. And continue to do so for as long as they considered Hero to be a friend.

    If Hero had befriended a thousand people, it would have taken them forty-five years to gather enough blood for the sword. They gathered five thousand such people, and did it in nine.

    The prophecy never said a WORD about the blood being from the dead.

    Assumptions are where most prophecies do the most damage.

    The vile villain also assumed that such a weapon could never become a reality. They never bothered with security. Never had any guards in their castle. After all, only a sword made from the blood of friendship and wielded by that central friend could defeat them.

    The vile villain was just as surprised as the seers.

    1. Tamela Redfin Avatar
      Tamela Redfin

      Prophecies suck. Change my mind. This piece however, good as heck! It somewhat mocks the set up and shows that even the “all knowing” can get a plot twist.

      1. You can just imagine a seer who gave the prophecy cussing and throwing things around.

    2. Wangles Bojangles Avatar
      Wangles Bojangles

      I love it when a hero turns the villan’s plans on their head. A lot of writers forget to make their heros clever, not just strong or skilled. The clueless hero can work, but it would be nice to see more confident heros who outwit their adversaries, and it’s everyone else who has no clue what’s going on.

      1. I love me some clever heroes. I also love me some himbos. Turning prophecies and invulnerability clauses around is one of my favourite games.

    3. Reinkarnitor Avatar
      Reinkarnitor

      Amazing! I have no other words.

      First I believed it was a cruel take on the prompt. I though of a hero who was dick.

      But then that plottwist…it came really surprising, well done indeed!

      Reminds me of the Anime “Cautious Hero” where they say the legendary sword can only be made by sacraficing one of the Heros friends, but he refuses and fools everyone by making a copy of the legendary sword. He was certain he would later find another way to beat the prophecy of only being able to beat the Demon lord with the legendary sword.

      Anyway, all the things that I am reminded of aside, this was really an amazing take on the prompt. The friends literally became his sword, and did not even have to die for that.

      And thus blood donations were invented xD

      Great work! Keep it up!

      1. I absolutely adore subverting the “cannot be killed by mortal weapons” prophecy thing. Plus hanging around in Tumblr ensures one gets exposed to a bunch of weirdos who overthink shit A LOT.

        You would not believe the research I had to do to get all the math worked out. And the math I had to work out.

        Alfarell is going to get overloaded with heroes like this.

  33. DeathsHead419 Avatar
    DeathsHead419

    The Burned Loaf
    DeathsHead419

    The scent of yeast and soot filled Marggrin’s bakery, shafts of light filtering through the front window. Her daughter Celrin opened an oven, finding a burned and rock hard loaf inside. Her eyes flicked to the stairs as she called, “Weolrin, how long ago did you put this one in?”

    “Fifteen minutes,” her sister replied from upstairs.

    “You sure?”

    “Uh, maybe a little longer.”

    Celrin sighed, flipping a lock of her long crimson hair as she thought what to do with this latest failure. The chime of the hanging door bell stilled her thoughts, Celrin putting the offending loaf under her arm as she hurried to the counter. A dark haired man with a cocksure gin and a glint in his eyes swaggered towards her.

    He leaped over the counter, sword flashing out as he wrapped his arm around Celrin, pressing her and the bread together. Celrin yelped, struggling to free herself as the man cried, “Sir Palejjor, I am Bethior and I have taken your love!”

    “Palge isn’t not here,” Celrin hissed. “Now let me go you lunatic.”

    “Where is he?” Bethior demanded, glaring into Celrin’s eyes.

    “Meeting with the Longshoremen.” No sooner had she spoken than the bell rang anew.

    On the threshold stood Palge, a short man with straw colored hair and tried blue eyes. He paused, looking horrified, as he stammered. “Ooh, uh, what’s happening?”

    “I am Bethior!” He shoved Celrin away and jumped over the counter, twirling his sword. “And…”

    A crack echoed through the room as a rock hard bread loaf collided with the Bethior’s rock hard head, dropping him insensate. Palge blinked, edging over and taking his sword. “Uh…”

    “A lunatic, let’s get him out of here,” Celrin sighed, stepping around the counter to help Palge drag the groaning man from their home. “How did the meeting go?”

    “Progress was made, barely.”

    Celrin nodded, dumping the lunatic in the street and waving to a watchman. She put her arm around Palge’s shoulders, her Love rising up on his tiptoes to kiss her. Then they retired to the bakery as Bethior was carted away.

    1. Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma) Avatar
      Shini-gamma Radiation (Shinigamma)

      Haha, using a rock hard loaf of bread as a weapon was genuinely funny. It reminds me of dwarf bread from the Discworld universe!

      Just a question – is this set in an already existing universe that you’ve created? Because I was quite confused about some things in the piece.

      But all in all, a very humorous piece. I enjoyed that very much!

      1. DeathsHead419 Avatar
        DeathsHead419

        Thanks, I was wondering how understandable this would be as a standalone thing. And yes, there are a lot of “Palejjor” stories I’ve written. Inspired by the prompt, I decided to write a quick little tale with my characters to see how it went.

    2. In the beginning, I expected a classic fantasy sword duel. Then it turned into a parody. That was delightfully ridiculous and funny. How hard is that bread if it can be used as a projectile and knock a guy out? XD Swords were technically present but by the enemy fell by the power of wheat!

      1. DeathsHead419 Avatar
        DeathsHead419

        The power of wheat is a recurring thing for these two, and all the others.

    3. This is making me consider the practical implications of using burned bread as a weapon. How would it be wielded? How long should you cook it to bake the optimal brick? Would cooking it too much just turn it to ash? How many times would you be able to hit something before the bread falls apart? How easy would it be to hold onto the bread, could someone knock it out of your hands? Would the ash from the bread be an effective tool to blind someone?

      I think I have said too much.

  34. There Are No Strings on Me
    By Marx (CW: Alex/1st Person Daisy, i.e. mental/physical abuse)

    A small whimper escapes my lips as the demon hunter’s blade impales me.

    It hurts…

    Of course it does…

    But I don’t dwell on that…

    The pain will be over soon…

    I’m just happy that…

    …at least I was useful to Him.

    My heart slows…

    My breathing stops…

    It’s finally over…

    ‘I thought I made myself clear before,’ says a familiar voice, breaking through the peace in my mind. ‘You die when I say you die.’

    ‘…sir?’ I feel tears falling down my cheeks having nothing to do with the gaping wound in my chest.

    ‘No,’ He sighs in exasperation. ‘The other voice in your head. Who else would I be?’

    ‘…you said–‘

    ‘I said you’d be a target for my escape. I never said you’d die from it.’

    While true, He’d never said those exact words, they’d been HEAVILY hinted. Regardless, that wasn’t important.

    ‘How may I serve you, Sir?’

    I hear His chuckle echo in my head. ‘Surrender to me.’

    ‘Always.’

    I don’t know how much more I can possibly give. I was willing to die for Him. But whatever more He wants from me is His to take.

    His chuckle becomes louder. I feel myself being hurled somewhere deep in my mind. I’m forced into being nothing more than a mere observer as my healing body stands up.

    His smile curls on my lips.

    It takes the demon hunters a second to realize my body is moving again. That’s all the time He needs.

    He makes my body do things I didn’t even know were possible. It uses magic to bend time and space, instantly appearing behind our foes.

    He takes their own swords and swiftly relieves them of their heads.

    The rest, he incinerates with a blast from my hand.

    It isn’t a fight.

    It’s a slaughter.

    When only the youngest one remains, my lips smile widely as we watch him flee.

    ‘Why do you allow him to escape, Sir?’

    “Dead men tell no tales. I want his clan to know what happened here. What merely my thrall is capable of. I want their fear.”

    1. This is a really visceral piece. I commend the descriptions of Daisy’s pain, when she fights the demon hunters, but also the lack of them, when Alex takes over. It leaves a lot to the imagination, while hinting at the greater picture. It’s really neat, how you add descriptions where needed and leave them out, where not.

      Having Daisy refer to Alex as He with a capital ‘H’ was a nice touch. It shows just how much she is caught in his thralldom, by using a pronoun convention usually reserved for deities.

      Great story!

    2. Oh, man. That was good 🙂 Are you a creator who hates it when their work is compared to others? I hope you won’t mind if I do. Have you heard of an anime called Berserk? One of the most plot-relevant scenes had a similar vibe. The MC works for a character. When he tries to leave, the other character has an introspective breakdown because he has grown dependent on the MC and believes that he owns him…even deciding if and when he dies. It was a powerful scene of broken connections, entitlement, and identity. It was creepy. Your prompt brought that uneasiness back. It made me want to know more. You should be proud.

  35. Berith Quinn Avatar
    Berith Quinn

    The Blade of Nythveral
    (A Tale from Aetherion)
    By Berith Quinn

    Countless voices wailed in discordant symphony from the dark recesses of Nythveral’s mind. Every victim, every soul, that he took in His Lady’s name stirred within him. With every blink, he could see a different echo in the shadows. Indistinct shades that seamlessly shifted in waves of misery and silent pleas.

    But one echo stayed constant. It was always there amongst the crowd. Never begging. Never crying out. It just stared at him with regretful eyes filled with forlorn pity. No matter how much Nythveral tried to cast aside his once mortal life, Wyndham was always there. The first amongst the echos. A bitter reminder of his discarded humanity.

    A familiar hand snaked across Nythveral’s carapace-covered chest, as a long tongue lovingly caressed his ear. The icy embrace from The Lady warmed his elongated limbs. For the briefest of moments, it was soothing. Serene. Yet uncharacteristic of her.

    His Lady’s talons sharply pierced through flesh and bone, as though they were nothing but clay to mould in her grasp. Venom dripped with every word that she spat in disgust.

    “Remember what you are. What I forged you into. Nythveral, the Great Devourer. My herald of darkness. My blade of torment. Perhaps, when I ascended you, I left too much of that pathetic human within you…”

    Without hesitation, she plunged her hand further into his chest, as her spidery fingers burrowed through the ichor filled flesh. As icy tendrils wrapped around his heart, Nythveral felt his entire being wracked with exquisite pain. Chunks of unneeded flesh sloughed off, while his bones thickened and elongated. Nythveral’s limbs slowly fused, as his rage and malice sharpened, leaving little room for remorse or sympathy.

    The Lady of the Black Tower, slowly appreciated her finest creation that she held within her grasp. A sword, forged of flesh and bone, that pulsated with ravenous hunger and insatiable anger. Along its edge, thick black ichor oozed from minute pores, which hissed and fizzled as it burnt the air, like a necrotic acid.

    “Yes… a form much more fitting for you, my beautiful Nythveral.”

    1. DeathsHead419 Avatar
      DeathsHead419

      A very brutal interpretation of the prompt, with very good descriptive language throughout. My only real critique is that I’m unsure if Windham is the name of Nythveral’s first victim or his own human name. Other than that, it seems like an idea that could easily be expanded into a larger story, if it hasn’t already.

      1. Berith Quinn Avatar
        Berith Quinn

        Why thank you. I had hoped that the exact nature of Wyndham was slightly more apparent (being the human Nythveral once was), but more than anything a slight nod of appreciation for those that have been following my submissions for the prompts.

        As for a quick summary of events for Wyndham/Nythveral:
        Poor Wyndham was once a mortal man. Destined for something we might never know, as he signed away that destinty to a witch. Alas, his dreams were tormented by a seductive eldritch entity. Which lead to his death, and rebirth as Nythveral.

        If you’re curious about the other related pieces, and would like to read them, just let me know.

        1. DeathsHead419 Avatar
          DeathsHead419

          Sure, drop me a message, same name on the discord, though I might send a story or two of my own back.

    2. Rewan Demontay Avatar
      Rewan Demontay

      I very enjoy the tragic mythology vibe his gives. Between the delicious vocabulary, and varied sentences, its feels much longer than it really is. Each paragraph feels a chapter expertly compressed. Very clean story with much room for expansion given the solid worldbuilding expressed,
      There are a few points of repetition that take away, given the limited word count, such as using “icy” twice. One unclear part is I had to reread to see it was Nythveral who she forged, not that his tainted victims’ flesh was ripped out and forged into a sword for him.

      1. Berith Quinn Avatar
        Berith Quinn

        I don’t think anyone has commented that my paragraphs seem like compressed chapters, so that is quite the unexpected praise. And honestly, I didn’t even realised that I used the word icy twice… even after a reread. Though I’m glad that you enjoyed the story, despite the few hiccups.

    3. Aracnarquista Avatar
      Aracnarquista

      That is dark. Yeah, now I see why you said you pitied Wyndham.

      I love the imagery in this one – it imediatelly brings to mind Hellraiser, and I think this comparison is fitting to how I envision the Lady of the Black Tower and her creations/perversions. This makes for a very interesting tale with lots of nuanced subtones – there is a very dark allure to the way she is described, and her words are intriguing. Using the term “forged” before serves as great foreshadowing of what is to come, and even with it and the prompt being what it was, I was surprised by the ending.

      And now I wonder if we are going to see the Lady in action in another story…

      Anyway, thanks for sharing!

      1. Berith Quinn Avatar
        Berith Quinn

        I’m glad that you enjoyed it, and the surprise at the ending.

        As for the Lady, I never had a clear cut image in my head for her. Just a vague concept of seductive and terrifying. Though the cenobites would definitely be a close comparison, and possibly a subconscious inspiration.

        As for the future appearances of the Lady? Well, Wyndham was only meant to be a once off character… and yet here we are.

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