Writing Group: I Dropped My Soul(PRIVATE)

Hello, Phylacteries, Horcruxes and Soul Gems!

  Wait! We have to go back for something. Yes it’s important! No, it can’t wait till tomorrow! Well, um…it’s because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

I Dropped My Soul

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

This prompt has a wacky chaotic energy that makes it very fun. The idea of dropping something seemingly impossible to drop leaves lots of room for creativity. 

Let’s begin with the more symbolic and potentially serious takes on the prompt. In most worlds souls cannot be physically dropped, though they may be spiritually lost. You could write about someone who symbolically “dropped” their soul by going down a dark path in life. Perhaps they were once good, and then became some sort of villain or dark lord, and as their loved one sees who they become, they feel as though they’ve dropped their soul. This could be more fantastical, or it could be realistic. For instance, someone in the real world becoming a corrupt businessman could be someone who dropped their soul. 

Perhaps it’s more like Dementors in Harry Potter. In your world, maybe when someone’s soul is taken away their body becomes an empty shell. Perhaps you tell the tale of someone trying to help a lost soul find their body. 

This prompt could also be taken much more literally, and this is where I think hilarity could ensue. Liches (or any adjacent type of character) are certainly a good candidate for this situation. Maybe a demon or reaper has collected a soul, and drops it on their way back to the afterlife. Or maybe you could write about a world in which souls are always a physical thing. What if someone could simply trip and drop their soul? Could a soul be something like keys, or a phone, that you could accidentally leave it home, or drop on the way to work? 

Where was it dropped? Dropping your soul on the sidewalk is a different story from dropping it in a burning building, or at your ex’s house, or down The Bottomless Pit of Metirchalah.  

What happens when it falls? Are souls something that could break? You could write about a soul breaking into pieces upon falling. Maybe there are soul repairers in your world to which your character must go. Maybe instead of breaking, souls in your world ooze, and your character is desperately trying to catch it before it oozes down the sewage grate. What happens when a soul is damaged? Would the person change once they put it back in their chest?

Who might find it? Whether a stray dog thinks it’s a chew toy, a homeless person holds it for ransom, a dashing prince nobly searches for its owner, or an arch nemesis uses it against the protagonist, who finds it would change the course of the story drastically. And if you hold someone’s soul, does it affect the person it belongs to? Can you control their actions? Their personality? 

My challenge for you this week is to make me genuinely laugh out loud with your story. I am not the easiest person to make genuinely laugh out loud, and this prompt I think could potentially be one of our funniest if you really lean into it. 

Well what do we have here? Hello little soul. I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me. You’ll make a lovely addition to my shelf. 

—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.

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Comments

49 responses to “Writing Group: I Dropped My Soul(PRIVATE)”

  1. Gadrius Avatar

    Rite of Passage

    By: Gadrius

    Halcyon exhaled slowly, focusing on the grazing buck. He steadied his heart and his hand, then released the bowstring.

    THUNK.

    A cheer rang from the bushes beside Halcyon as his brother, Solarus, leapt to his feet. Halcyon was relieved his elder brother had volunteered to join him. The First Hunt was an important rite of passage for a Spirit Elf.

    “Come, brother! Let us collect our kill before it sours!” Solarus lovingly clapped his brother on the back, “I wish you to do the honors.”

    Halcyon smiled, once again grateful for his brother’s encouragement. The two streaked down the hill towards the body of the slain deer. As the two moved, trails of soft, blue light danced behind them, the mark of a Spirit Elf’s power.

    The two reached the carcass of the deer, and Halcyon quickly pulled his waterskin from his side. He unstopped the bottle and quietly began to chant a few words. As he spoke, glowing blue particles began to collect in the air above the body of the deer. They hovered noiselessly towards one another before springing together like magnets.

    Finally the motes of light converged into a single glowing ball. Halcyon muttered the final few words of the incantation, and the sphere floated towards his waterskin before quickly disappearing into the leather pouch.

    Solarus’ face shown with a massive grin. “My brother! I am so proud!” He tussled Halcyon’s hair, then the two set to work cleaning and skinning the hide.

    Once back at camp with their prizes, Halcyon eagerly called out his approach. In response, an unseen voice, deep and booming, came from just beyond the gate. “I am sorry, son. I cannot allow you to pass. No shoes, no service.”

    Halcyon could not hide his confusion. “What do you mean?? I am properly clothed!”

    The voice boomed again, this time with more mirth, “Well, you have the leather and the tongue, but it seems you’re missing the SOUL!”

    As the voice bellowed a hardy laugh, Halcyon looked down at his side and groaned. Somewhere along the way, he’d dropped the soul!

  2. vellichorian Avatar
    vellichorian

    The Offer

    by vellichorian

    Having principles is easy when you have no prospects. At least that’s how it was for me. How many hours did I spend in cafes, nursing a single cappuccino, pontificating about how art is only worthwhile when made for art’s sake? No one ever challenged my rants. How many times did I hold court in the pub, declaiming the sellouts’ dilution of the industry from my soapbox while accepting free drinks from nodding sycophants? I hope they enjoyed the show. How many times did I look at my own face in the mirror, promising my reflection that I would never become one of them, that I would be true to my vision no matter what. I was all I had.

    And then it all changed.

    I woke up today wondering how I was going to keep the lights on. One phone call later, here I sit, weighing the decision of a lifetime. The proposed contract glows on my tablet, bright with the shining glory of potential. My work, front and center in the public eye. My name in lights. The dream. With just a few concessions. A tweak here to make the pieces more “accessible to the masses.” An adjustment there to “appease the censors.” A smattering of commercial works to complete the show. I would have complete creative license, as long as I met the client’s “simple requests.”

    And the compensation. I’ve never seen that many zeroes in a row before.

    I run my hand across the stubble on my chin. The sound of my neighbors’ fighting bleeds through the thin walls. She demands to know why he didn’t come home again last night. A draft blows through the window, giving me goosebumps. I look back at the contract. Yesterday, I could have attested, with absolute certainty, that I would never accept the terms that mock my integrity. But now, the only path forward looks an awful lot like a shattered dotted line.

    1. Lunabear Avatar

      Ah. The classic giving up your soul for fame tale. One of my favorite Faustian bargains. However, it starts off in earnest with the narrator trying not to starve.

      I do so hope that they find it worth it. I also hope they don’t allow fame to go to their head.

      I honestly don’t have any critiques for this, vellichorian. You portray what appeal this deal has for the artist and allow the matter to settle and them to ruminate over the decision before making it. And then you leave a nice cliffhanger. Very well written. I look forward to reading more from you. Thank you very much for writing and sharing this one.

  3. jesse fisher Avatar
    jesse fisher

    Soul Not Included
    By Jesse Fisher

    The noises of the workshop made it seem like a factory over a creative space. The amount of tools and parts were strewn over the many tables and the floor. Diagrams and blueprints laid obscured by the parts, the constructor was not paying attention. A dirty rag fell to the ground as they climbed up from the seated position.

    Stalled and grinding sounds grew louder as the constructor moved from the seat to a table with more plating. Cracked and chipped metal fingers moved to the tool it needed. It shuffled back to the worn metal seat as it moved back to work.

    Its body was once a certain shade of blue but that had faded to be sun bleached, cracks in the metal body left little to imagine on the reason for this state. A hard life under an unforgiven sun and the monsters that can survive under it. One might question the sanity of making another to suffer the same as it had.

    However something within it’s soul wanted another to share itself with. Such as it began to use all the time in the world to just start making the new one. Parts were not hard to get, as scrapped robots were easy to find. Buildings were full of them, and the still functional ones were most of the causes of the dents. The raw metal that now covered the new one was taken from a vanity tower of a being that thought they were so important.

    Only one part was left, but it could not find this item. It was the only one left that it knew of and age had made it harder to go beyond. It must find it.

    *crunch*

    If it had a heart it would have sank, as a foot lifted to see the broken chip.

    It had no mouth but the scream was near heartbreaking. But it was not an end but a new fear crept in.

    1. MasaCur Avatar

      Oof, that is heartbreaking. It’s not quite the same vibe as the Twilight Zone episode “Time Enough to Last,” but it is in the same sphere. Presumably, the old robot still has time to try to find another functioning control chip, but, as you said, it was the only one that the robot knew of, and age made them very difficult to get. Anyway, I enjoyed the story, Toa.

  4. MasaCur Avatar

    Calling You From My Soul
    By MasaCur

    “I have done it again!”

    Miguel looked up from his magazine to see his master flamboyantly enter the study. Ibrahim was a gaunt, pale man, and overcompensated with his colorful wardrobe.

    “Si, si. What have you done?”

    “I have relocated my phylactery to…” Ibrahim paused for dramatic effect, shooting a glance at his minion. “My telephone.”

    Miguel stared at Ibrahim in disbelief.

    “I know, you are speechless,” Ibraham continued. “I, Ibrahim Gonzalo Esparraguera am, myself, in awe of my genius.”

    “Si, master. I myself am also without words, as I question the low standards of whatever institution agreed to teach you magic. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the point of the phylactery to be kept somewhere safe? Safe and away from you?”

    Ibrahim waved a hand dismissively. “And run the risk that my enemies might happen upon it. Nonsense, Miguel. It is much safer kept upon my person.”

    “Si, Master. Of course, you also run the risk of not only having your enemy damaging your phone, whether by chance or design, but also accidentally damaging it yourself.”

    Ibrahim theatrically opened his bright orange jacket, and placed the phone, inside, patting it reassuringly. “Such a thing will not happen, Miguel. I can assure you.”

    “I don’t know, Master. I feel like you’re going to accidentally drop it in the toilet or something.”

    Ibrahim loudly scoffed. “That is only a problem for mortals such as you. As an immortal lich, I have no need for such trivialities as using the toilet.” He twirled dramatically. “If you have need of me, I shall be looking for potential replacement underlings on my new soul receptacle.”

    Miguel rolled his eyes, then returned to the magazine he was reading.

    He heard a bang from the next room, followed by a thump on the floor.

    “Curse you, bony fingers!” Ibrahim howled.

    “Did you drop your phone?” Miguel nonchalantly asked.

    “Miguel, do you, perchance, have your phone on you?”

    “I do, master.”

    “Then can you please call our provider to get me a new phone before my soul leaks out of my cracked screen?”

    1. jesse fisher Avatar
      jesse fisher

      Oh that Ibrahim, we only fear you for the many guts you burst from the comedy you make. I get a very Draken and Shego vibes from this pair. Like ya Ibrahim is right but he does it the wrong way and Miguel is almost doing a countdown until something goes wrong.

      All in all lovely story, and a good comedic moment.

    2. WolfsbaneX Avatar
      WolfsbaneX

      On one hand, I have to laud Ibrahim for concocting this plan. On the other, I’m surprised he didn’t put contingencies in place. Nice job. I feel like this piece is a great allegory for how important having a phone is in the modern day. The comedic tone undercuts any preachiness the story might have. The best part is if you don’t interpret it that way, it’s still a great comedic story that everyone can relate to. Excellent work.

  5. WolfsbaneX Avatar
    WolfsbaneX

    “Coffee, Sweets and Ghosts”
    By Hemming Sebastian Bane

    Brynhildr soared among the evergolden clouds of the morning, the sun warming her eagle-like wings. Despite the chill, she didn’t linger in the warmth. She was already exactly zero point eight seven five seconds behind schedule as it was. With a mighty flap, Brynhildr flew towards their planned meeting spot for the day.

    Today it was a little coffeehouse in a small town of the northwestern kingdom because Radgrid said their coffee was good. Brynhildr shook her head as she swooped into a nearby alley. The street in front of the coffeehouse bustled with cold workers. Quickly noting the dress of the women in the streets, the valkyrie donned similar clothes before walking out of hiding.

    Across the street, tables and chairs littered the sidewalk in front of the coffeehouse. Approaching, Brynhildr smelled a hint of chocolate and cooking dough. She sighed. Of course Radgrid would choose a patisserie. As she approached, the valkyrie quickly made out a woman that was very out of place. Her hair was down in wild braids – as opposed to Brynhildr’s tight bun – and she was dressed in the leathers of older times. She sat very still, sipping from a small cup.

    Brynhildr suppressed a sigh. “Good morning, Mist.”

    The valkyrie in shieldmaiden garb looked up and nodded.

    Brynhildr sat across from Mist and ordered a coffee with milk. “So, where’s Radgrid?”

    “Late.” Mist tapped the table as she scanned the crowd.

    “Of course she is.”

    Brynhildr’s coffee came and got cold before either of the valkyrie sisters saw Radgrid. The bouncing tight curls made the eldest Radgrid look much younger that she was. The skipping didn’t help, at least in Brynhildr’s mind.

    “Lo, sisters mine!” Radgrid smiled so warmly it could have melted snow.

    Brynhildr looked at the elder valkyrie with contempt. “Where have you been, Radgrid?”

    “There, there, Bryn. Thou might call me Raddie, if you wishest. And my madness hath method. Allow me to give tidings forthwith.”

    Brynhildr, or Bryn now, looked to Mist, who shrugged.

    “Continue,” said Bryn.

    “As I speak a heart doth stop. Sisters, here a soul doth drop.”

    1. jesse fisher Avatar
      jesse fisher

      A fantasy coffee meeting of the girls that end up with them going younger is a nice touch. Also the whole Valkyrie thing is a neat way to work the prompt in without being force. Really the story was so descripted that I felt more like a audio book.

    2. MasaCur Avatar

      As I mentioned to you before, I like the idea of Valkyries trying to blend in with modern society. Or in the case of Mist, not even trying to. I expect, if the story would continue past this one, their coffee break would be interrupted immediately by a patron having a heart attack from which they will not recover.
      Of the three, definitely picture Radgrid the best. The bouncing curls and the skipping really sets a picture in my mind. There is some really good descriptions in here, without bogging the story down in them. Excellent job, Wolf.

  6. The Judgement of Charon (It’s Always Sunny in Olympus)
    by Alexsander Edwards

    “Ahem, Lord Hades?”

    A voice from across the great hall of the Underworld resounded through the corridors, loud enough to finally break the Lord of the Dead’s focus on his immaculately kept ledger, listing the daily income in obols.

    “Ah, Minos,” he said, looking at the former Minoan king who stood in his ceremonial gowns. “I thought I told you your job was to judge new souls instead of talking to me as they formed a queue outside, yes?”

    The muscular king shifted. “Y-yes, but… Mr. Charon seems to claim he lost… something.”

    Behind him stood the Ferryman of the Dead, hugging on his oar for comfort.

    “Riiight… well, you go on back to your post and I’ll deal with this,” he said, before turning to the oarsman. “Charon?”

    “Hrngh,” Charon groaned, as Minos ran back to his post with a speed worthy of Hermes himself.

    “Yes, yes, you were ferrying the dead, let’s move to the important part – you didn’t lose an obol or something, did you-”

    “Guuhrrrr”

    “How do you lose a soul on the Styx-”

    “Harrrnnngh”

    “IN the Styx?! How in my name did you manage to-”

    “Hmmmph,” the oarsman moaned, as a tear formed and rolled across his face, only to evaporate before hitting the warm floors of the underworld.

    Hades and all the shades surrounding him paused in shock. “Oh my… Me,” he said. “You’re… you’re actually… okay, here, it’s fine, we’ll look for it together, okay? Just you and me, as nice friends, just like old times, alright?”

    “Nnnhghhh,” Charon wiped tears off his eyes as Hades approached, firmly holding his shoulder.

    “So, what did this soul look like?”

    Charon shifted uncomfortably before gesturing towards his head in-between groans.

    “Long, curly hair, can’t miss it, got it. And, uh, a name?”

    Charon gulped. “Uh… H-Heuuhhhnn…”

    “Helen?! OF TROY?! You lost Helen?! Oh, crapbaskets…” Hades said, before rushing to the Styx, followed by Charon. “I am so docking your pay for this!”

    1. Constellasphere Avatar
      Constellasphere

      I’m always a sucker for stories based around Greek Mythology, and this one is no different. The way you’ve written them gives them quite a bit of life (all jokes intended) and the ending got a chuckle out of me. Probably not the best soul to loose within the Styx lol.
      Overall it was an awesome read, thank you for sharing.

    2. Lol! Oh how I love these. Most of the ones I’ve read focused on Zeus, whoo is amazing, though it was very interesting to see this world through someone who isn’t so delightfully over the top.

      It didn’t make it any less entertaining. I mean, how can you not feel for Charon here? I especially liked how Hades didn’t seem to really know how to react to Charon crying. He handled it well though!

      That said, his reaction at the end is incredibly merited. That is definitely not a soul you just want to lose.

      Great take on the prompt!

    3. MasaCur Avatar

      I love this series, Eddy. This is a great one, especially with how Charon just talks in grunts, but Hades knows exactly what’s being said. Yeah, I can imagine the loss of Helen of Troy’s soul would be a terrible one, far more than Anonymous Farmer 532. This was was a pretty funny one, and I loved it.

  7. Lee Strangely Avatar
    Lee Strangely

    That’s the Spirit
    by Lee Strangely

    The carriage moved with awesome speed while smoke seemed to trail off the horse.

    Thunderbolts rained down in a furious symphony that shook the landscape. Twas a deafening fanfare, following their carriage no matter how fast they rode.

    Mort put on the brakes when he saw a shelter: a thin, crooked shed just off the road. Upon stopping, his magnificent steed finally flopped onto the ground… then promptly combusted.

    Mort called back into the carriage, “You think we pushed the horse a little too hard?”

    Clay kicked open the carriage door, carrying a bag that seemed nigh empty, yet took both his hands to drag across the dirt. Once inside Clay gave a sigh of relief. Another stressed grunt followed as he reached into the bag and lifted out a fiery glass orb.

    “At last!” Clay cheered, “We’re whole again!”

    The longer he held it, the more he felt his hands burn beneath it. He gave a loud yelp as his hands instinctively let it fall.

    Panicking, Mort grabbed it, making his own strange noises as he quickly and gently put it back with the other one in the bag, while it stung his hands as well.

    “Careful, careful!” Mort scolded him, “those are our souls you’re handling.”

    “Hey, at least we got em back…”

    “Yeah, but we still need to figure out how to put em back!” Mort shouted while pointing to his chest.

    “Why?”

    “What do you mean why? They’re in a burlap sack. They’re not where they’re supposed to be.”

    “Well, I just thought…”

    “Thought what?”

    “I thought they’d just…”

    “Just what?” Mort mocked him, “just fly right back in?”

    Clay looked away, blushing.

    “Clay, our souls got ripped out like bones out of a fish. They ain’t gonna just snap back like a rubber band.”

    “And how would you know?” Clay argued.

    “Because if they could, they wouldn’t be in that SACK!”

    “Then what the heck are we supposed do with em then? Swallow em?!”

    1. Lunabear Avatar

      I just want to know what harm that innocent horse caused you, good sir! Because how dare! Lol.

      In all seriousness, Lee, this is such a fun, wacky experience. I adore the brothers and how they play off of one another. I am incredibly curious as to how these two lost their souls to begin with. A fascinating detail is that the souls are hot when they aren’t inside of the body. I love that, as souls are supposed to be warm and light. The sack being heavy despite the fact that there are only two souls inside speak volumes. How can we weigh the value or measure of a soul?

      How WILL they get their souls back into their bodies, though? Who took them out in the first place, and how did they get them back? How big are the orbs? So many questions brought on by your wonderful writing! I do hope you continue this storyline; it’s so humourous yet lighthearted.

      And I wouldn’t be surprised one bit if they DID need to swallow them!

      I can’t wait to see what you post next. Thank you for writing and sharing this one!

    2. Not sure whether that was intentional or not, but I was a bit confused at the beginning here, with it starting in medias res with such dramatic (the thunderstorm) and absurdist (the horse catching fire) imagery placed right next to one another. I guess my brain just wanted a bit of a backstory to this world, or something.

      That confusion quickly faded, though, as the banter between the two characters was really entertaining and very well written.

      My only remaining gripe is that I feel like you could’ve ended it in the second-to-last line, as that one feels to me like a stronger punchline to the story. Either way, it still is a fascinating and entertaining romp through what I can only envision as an absurdist dark fantasy world.

    3. vellichorian Avatar
      vellichorian

      I think I like Clay and Mort. On one hand, they don’t seem like the sharpest knives in the drawer, with how they’re handling their souls and debating putting them back. But on the other hand, they managed to steal the souls and what appeared to be a magical horse from someone powerful and probably evil. So… Are they skilled thieves, or are they just very lucky? I might like to follow their adventures.

  8. Rejected by Death (Illusions of Heroes)
    by Gerrit (Rattus)

    “Are you feeling alright, Sister? It’s not like you to let one get away like that.” Probability strode up behind her, his trademark smile plastered across his face.

    “I didn’t ‘let one get away’, as you put it.” Death didn’t spare her brother more than a glance; she kept her eyes forward, hands clasped gently in front of her. “I should be insulted that you think me so poor at my job.”

    “I speak only on what I see. And I saw a soul ascend, only to be taken from you by another.”

    Death watched as the soul fell back to the planet, returning to the body it had recently left behind. She wondered how long it had been since she had last allowed a soul to return home.

    “If you would like to believe this dilution of our Brother bested me, I will happily leave you in your fantasy.” Death wondered how this ‘Olessa’ was related to them. Niece? Great niece? Not that it mattered. She was a fraction of a fraction of Existence, a fragment of an already diluted power.

    “So you let her get in your way then?” Probability’s teasing tone was beginning to get on her nerves. She wondered if he derived joy from annoying everyone around him.

    “I know this idea may seem foreign to you, Brother, but I have a plan. One that involves this soul remaining intact, at least for now. Let the girl think it was her doing, if she would like.”

    “Allowing a soul to return to its body seems like a risky move.”

    Death finally looked at her sibling. He always looked dishevelled, so unbecoming of one in their position. “You should know a thing or two about gambling.”

    Probability smiled. “It’s not gambling when you know the outcome. I can gamble no more than you can create life.”

    The soul returned to its body, its light fading as it sunk beneath the flesh. The man’s eyes opened, spurring tears from his partner that kneeled beside him.

    “One does not need to create life in order to preserve it.”

    1. Lunabear Avatar

      Rattus, this is indeed a short glimpse at both of them, but Death and Probability are strong characters. It makes absolute sense that Probability is more laid back and nonchalant while Death is more skeptical and serious.

      One thing I love about this particular story in regards to Death is that I’m not sure whether it was a calculated move on her part to allow the soul to return or if it was indeed a slight made to her by Olessa. I also love how Death ruminates on how they and Olessa are related. Meanwhile, Probability in the background is just cheesing and waiting to see how this plays out.

      I love that you manage to do a literal interpretation of the prompt, and it’s layered. Bravo. Also, that last line is so poignant and beautiful, and I think the fact that it comes from Death herself makes it all the more poetic. I don’t recall reading any stories from you about Probability, and I believe I’ve only read two that involve Death. So I am incredibly curious and excited to read more. Thank you so very much for writing and sharing this one.

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

      Oooh so we have Probability and Death now! I thought it was just Chaos and Order. Are they new additions or have they always been there?

      I’m not sure if there’s more personification 😉 type characters, but I do find it interesting Probability is one of the first were introduced to, set on the same level as Death, and that he’s not referred to by a more broad title like Luck. Though I suppose it makes more sense when the creators of the universe are Order and Chaos, of which Probability walks the line between. (Unless its Existence and Oblivion who are the creators/big gods?)

      I really like this extra insight into Emrys coming back to life, and that Death allowed it. It helps the idea feel more…I don’t know, grounded and rounded, I guess? That it wasn’t only a god going “bloopadeedoop you’re fine now!” it was also Death allowing it.
      Also, I thought it was Order who Emrys met when he died, was it Olessa?

      The story as a whole is great, it is intriguing and flows well. I love their dialogue and interactions (it’s a neat detail she doesn’t look at him till the end).

      “Death watched as the soul fell back to the planet, returning to the body it had recently left behind. She wondered how long it had been since she had last allowed a soul to return home.”
      –I like the imagery and phrasing of this

      “If you would like to believe this dilution of our Brother bested me”
      –Not quite sure what this means. Was Olessa created as a a fraction of another personification-type being? I thought Order created her? Or is Order their brother?

      “She was a fraction of a fraction of Existence,”
      –Very cool phrasing. And, in a way, it’s something that can be said about all of us. We’re a fraction of a fraction of existence…yet our lives still have meaning

      “It’s not gambling when you know the outcome. I can gamble no more than you can create life.”
      –I do like this line. It’s neat to think about the limitations of beings like this. His existence and gambling seem tied, like he’d be very good at it, but it’s actually impossible for him.
      Though it also makes me curious about how you view Probability. Because I would see it that he knows the exact percentages for what might happen, and while that may give you an unfair advantage, probability never tells you actual outcome, only what *might* happen. He’d be more likely to win, betting on the things he knows to be more probable, but sometimes the less likely option wins.

      “The soul returned to its body, its light fading as it sunk beneath the flesh. The man’s eyes opened, spurring tears from his partner that kneeled beside him.”
      –Again I really like how this is described. It’s both poetic and easy to follow

      “One does not need to create life in order to preserve it.”
      –Love this as a last line. The story isn’t particularly dark, but it could definitely lean into the “in the grand scheme of things one life doesn’t matter” idea, and I like that it ends with the idea that life is valuable, and even Death herself sees that and makes moves to preserve it.

      Wonderful job!!

    3. Lee Strangely Avatar
      Lee Strangely

      Ignoring their names/roles, the personalities of Probability and Death are very quickly and efficiently defined here to the point that you can pick up on it and their dynamic almost instantly. I like how Death appears as if she has something to hide or might even feel a little embarrassment for, even going as far as to try to cover it up not only while speaking to Probability but also in her own mind as she tries to justify her actions. Also, It’s odd and interesting how ironically the one responsible for causing chance can’t actually take any real chance (the concept could almost be whole story on it’s own). Overall, great job!

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

    [DM me on Discord for details!]

    1. I really liked the dichotomy between the first and second part of this story. Not just the obvious, like Hyde running someone down and Jekyll trying to come to terms with what his other self had done, but also in the dialogue. Hyde is much more snarky and insulting in his word choice, where Jekyll is more contemplating and philosophical. The minimal scene-setting really worked in your favour here, because it allowed me to focus more on the word choices and the emotions of the characters involved. Great job!

    2. Lunabear Avatar

      Ah. I was wondering when you were going to include these two on your roster, Kaylie. So, we’re going for the “I don’t care if I’m an asshole” Hyde, huh? Nice.

      I find the line ‘Hyde was no one’ to be interesting. A very third person way of speaking about oneself. And then later on, Jekyll does the same thing. He doesn’t even acknowledge himself by a pronoun. He calls himself Henry and then again Jekyll.

      The core concept of both personalities in the same body viewing themselves from an outside perspective is fascinating. Hyde, here, is more boisterous and self-aggrandizing then his book counterpart, although no less malicious. I would, in fact, go as far as to say that he is more heinous and he indulges himself more. But even that feels like a front or a mask. Yes, he wants to be a derelict and get away with his horrible actions without consequences, but there is more brewing. Now, whether that is the moral compass from himself or Jekyll rearing its head, I’m not sure.

      The pause of Hyde when Enfield brings up reputation is also interesting. Even more interesting is how Hyde asks that he has a reputation, and so he’s surprised. I do appreciate Enfield taking a more active role in this case. Especially because it is involving a little girl being trampled by a grown adult. Hyde doesn’t care as long as it does not impede his desire to do what he wants to do.

      Jekyll, on the other hand, is much more morose and contemplative about the actions. They are his own, but also separate. He created Hyde to indulge in his baser instincts and in his darker desires, but he did not prepare for them to be spilled out into the knowing world.

      Hyde’s part of the soul is passed off as more of a joke, whereas Jekyll has a full-on rumination about him dropping his soul. One soul housing two different people, not only in likeness but also in personality and name. At least for now.

      The duplicitous and dual nature of men, although, I believe it can be broken down a little bit further than that. Definitely more than two sides, however, two sides are strongest. Different parts from both intersect and overlap, creating bits and pieces of more, but two still that are strongest. But it’s not always light and dark, black and white as we claim.

      The divergence in the two is clear for now. But how much longer until the monster becomes a man and the man becomes a monster? How much longer after that will it be impossible to separate the man and monster without killing both? Brava.

      I can’t wait to see what you write next time. Thank you for writing and sharing this one.

    3. Oooo so glad to see your version of these two. It definitely doesn’t disappoint. I haven’t read the original in quite some time so there might very well be a lot of little nuggets that went over my head but it doesn’t make this story any less enjoyable.

      You do an excellent job of giving both Hyde and Jekyll a very distinctive voice, which drives the story. I’m especially a big fan of how they both react to the concept of not having a soul anymore. Hyde just brushes it off as a joke and only seems to care when his anonymity is in danger. Meanwhile Jekyll is much more thoughtful and morose about the its possible loss.

      Even the word choices for both absolutely work to drive how different they truly random each other. This is all and all an excellent take on the prompt and I’m looking forward to seeing more of them.

    4. WolfsbaneX Avatar
      WolfsbaneX

      Oooooooooh. Love Jekyll and Hyde. It’s a great story that displays one of the hallmarks of Scottish literature, Caledonian antisyzygy (the idea of two opposing ideals coexisting). You do a good job preserving that. Jekyll acknowledges Hyde’s soul is his own and that makes the last line a gut punch. I do think the first line is superfluous, but that’s a nitpick if I’m being honest. Nice job!

  10. Skeleton Avatar

    The Immortal Secret (The Will)
    By Skeleton

    “Is this the end, then?” Ericka’s voice pierced the night’s rain.

    When she had seen the shadow of a man slink away past the city walls towards the darkness of the forest, the deep-seeded fear that wordlessly haunted her dreams bloomed fully. It had always been a possibility that Eymir would give in—everyone knew that—but nobody believed it would happen. Nobody but her, that is.

    And now as the man stopped and looked over his shoulder, Ericka wondered if this would be the last time they would be allies.

    “Yes.” The answer was cold and to the point.

    The wulack commander felt the warmth of her frustration well in her chest. “That girl loves you, you know?” Ericka called out over the roaring around them. “You would betray that—the love that you say you value above all other things—at its strongest? Her dreams are coming true right before her eyes. You should be celebrating.”

    “A dream can quickly become a nightmare. She’ll learn that soon enough.” Eymir waited again for the inevitable.

    “I wanted to believe that you weren’t what they said you were,” she admonished, “but clearly you don’t have a heart.”

    The man shook his head, but controlled his anger. “We must all be what fate ordained us to be.” Ericka perked up at Zaila’s quote coming from the man’s mouth. Eymir turned fully, his disgust for fate apparent in his eyes. “If she wants to play hero so badly, then so be it, but she will quickly come to realize that heroes cannot exist without their counterparts. And what better villain is there—” he raised his arms dramatically to emphasize himself “—than a demon.”

    Ericka had no words for the man’s stupidity, shaking her head and giving up on him completely. “I left everything to her,” he continued. “My training, my skills, my sword… my love—she has what little good is left of my soul.”

    With that, the shadows fell to their place in the world. Ericka watched with hidden regret as the man slowly disappeared into his role.

    Zaila could never know. It would destroy her.

    1. Lunabear Avatar

      Wow, Skeleton. I don’t know how you always manage to implant so much darkness and heaviness within your stories, but you are not afraid to go heavy. I wholeheartedly appreciate that because you do it so well.

      It would appear that Eymir has given into his full demonic side assembly because he has fallen into the headspace of fate. Because it was ordained, then it MUST come to pass. I love that the atmosphere fits the mood. I’m not familiar with Ericka, but I do appreciate her trying to talk Eymir down.

      It is very sad, but fitting that Eymir bequeaths Zaila the rest of his soul. His heart is already with her, so it makes sense. I also really really love how he can control shadows. It’s really Gothic and harkens to supervillain origins in comic books. That is an absolute compliment, by the by.

      With that, the shadows fell to their place in the world. (This is absolutely one of my favorite lines in the entire story.)

      “If she wants to play hero so badly, then so be it, but she will quickly come to realize that heroes cannot exist without their counterparts. And what better villain is there—” he raised his arms dramatically to emphasize himself “—than a demon.” (This bit here is really fantastic. He is at his point of no return and is completely done with trying to control this beast inside of him. This really reads as a reluctant monster to me. Already got his villain dialogue down. *Chef’s kiss*)

      I’m practically salivating at what comes next. I want to see how and if Zaila ever finds out about this. I have a feeling that’s going to be an inevitability. Then again, it might be kept a secret. Thank you so very much for writing and sharing this one.

    2. Lee Strangely Avatar
      Lee Strangely

      I have to agree with Lunabear in that this story is heavy and brimming with emotion. Even with only the briefest of descriptions for the setting, the interactions and character descriptions do a fantastic job giving the story a real grim and solemn atmosphere. I also love how the man is described like a shadow kind of skulking away. It’s a great visual for showing us his departure physically and internally. This story is very well done!

  11. Lunabear Avatar

    I Know Where My Strength Resides (A Song for: Abraham)
    by Lunabear

    A candle flame threw shadows across the tent and table, illuminating etchings and few items. The most notable was a flute glass of crimson liquid near the table’s edge.

    Abraham sat, meditating over his writing, utensils, and open book.

    An incoming chill caused the flame to shudder then extinguish. Her heady, cloying perfume wormed its way into his nose.

    “Ishtar.” Abraham worked to dismiss her as he relit the candle.

    “Madame,” she corrected in a humorous, Middle Eastern lilt. She struck a pose that accentuated her hips and breasts. The slight pout to her mouth was playful.

    She’d said Madame was preferable to Sire or Maker because it sounded more elegant.

    Abraham didn’t care either way. He forced down a sip of lukewarm blood and continued his meditating, his eyes closing this time.

    Ishtar’s hands fisted against her hips. “Hmph. I give you an army rivaling a fleet. Thralls to do with what you please. Your very own private quarters. I THOUGHT you would show a modicum of gratitude.”

    “My not taking fang to every single human who passes through here IS my gratitude. You, MADAME, are in the wrong business with me if you seek more than that.” Abraham’s eyes didn’t open. “Those you name ‘thralls’ are merely nourishment.”

    Ishtar’s chest hugged his back. Her colored nails sought refuge within his hair. “Have I not given you new life? Do I not stir… something within you? Does my soul not move through yours?” Her whispers were cold and soft.

    There was only one for whom Abraham longed, but he wasn’t here.

    Abraham untangled himself and stood, eyes stoic. “My soul, what’s left of it, belongs to my Heavenly Father.”

    Ishtar glared back, dissatisfied. “I can take you further. You shall bear witness.”

    “I already see much more than you ever will. Blinded by greed, power.” His gaze flicked over her with disdain. “LUST. You will never be anything other than a vessel for sin. Yours is a path I refuse to follow.”

    Candlelight highlighted her eerie, fanged smile. “Prepare yourself, Progeny.” She bowed, exiting.

    Kneeling, Abraham prayed for guidance.

    1. Man, that opening line did a great job of setting the mood for this scene. I enjoyed Abraham spurning the advances of Ishtar-sorry, Madame-as if she were nothing. I get the sense that she is some sort of powerful being, but he didn’t seem like he cared at all. I’m curious what came before this scene, what sort of deal the two had made that Abraham seems so cavalier about now. In the end though, it seems like we get a glimpse of the true Abraham. Despite how stoic and flippant he appears with Ishtar, at the end when she leaves, he prays, as if he’s not sure what to do despite the airs he put on in her presence. This story was really well done, thank you for sharing!

    2. I’d firstly like to just give you an applause just for those first three paragraphs which were an amazing way of setting the stage in a few words. Very well done.

      And then once we got to Abraham and Ishtar, the real show began. I absolutely loved the way these two played off of each other. Ishtar being very confident, sexy and self assured and Abraham just rebuffing her advances over and over and staying loyal to his faith, which is very respectable for a vampire.

      That said, I do very much love me some corruption stories which this comes across as the beginning of.

      This is a very interesting way of doing a maker and their vampire and I’m really looking forward to seeing more of them.

    3. Glaceon373 Avatar
      Glaceon373

      Ooooooh I love the worldbuilding here, Luna! I’m only vaguely familiar with Abraham, but that lack of knowledge didn’t hinder my understanding of the story. The descriptions are all very fun, as is the dialogue. And the line “There was only one for whom Abraham longed, but he wasn’t here” fits perfectly in this scene. Overall, a fun read, Luna. Great job!

    4. So THAT’S the Ishtar you were talking about in DMs months ago! (yeah, sorry, haven’t been keeping up with the prompt lately – especially since I was sick for most of December, too)

      I’m guessing there’s more backstory to these characters in other stories, but either way, this scene works. I am left with questions, but none of them break my enjoyment of this extremely ambiance-heavy piece.

      Also, I salute you for managing to make the dialogue feel “old timey” without using words that would actually have been uttered in older times, which is an easy way to alienate readers. This is a very nice balance you’ve treaded here and it works incredibly well to build a better mental image of this scene.

  12. Can’t Touch This
    By Marx

    Matt paused, looking down at his lap and then looking up at Laila.

    “Yours is a sword.” He grumbled.

    Laila nodded, nervously biting her lower lip.

    “Mara’s is a sword.”

    Laila nodded again.

    “It’s always a sword…”

    “Well…” Laila found herself wincing. “Clearly not… always…?”

    Matt’s eyes narrowed as he stood, letting the weapon fall to the ground as he stormed out.

    “What happened?!” exclaimed Mara, bursting into the room. “Why is Matt so angry and…?”

    Mara looked up thoughtfully as she tried to pin down the emotion that she was feeling from him. “…dejected? And why is there a big scythe on the floor?”

    Laila shook her head and sighed at the direction Matt had left from. “He was curious about my sword being forged from my soul. When I said I taught you how to do it, he wanted to do it too.”

    Mara nodded. “Aaaah… I see. You know… his life would be so much easier if he just accepted that he’s Death’s horseman.”

    “Agreed. But what can we do? We’re his familiars. We support him regardless.”

    As Mara agreed with Laila’s words, a mischievous smirk formed on her lips when she looked down at the scythe. “I’m gonna touch it.”

    “Don’t you dare!” Laila growled, immediately making herself into a barrier between Mara and the weapon. “Matt’s soul is so powerful… If touching that wouldn’t kill us, it would at the very least knock us unconscious…”

    Mara’s grin widened. “Is it twisted that I want to touch it even more now?”

    Laila shook her head with a glare. “What is WRONG with you?”

    “I was born in Hell from human sin.” Mara giggled. “What’s your excuse? You’re an angel. All pure and holy and all that… You want to touch it too.”

    “I do NOT!”

    “You do remember that I can feel your emotions, right?”

    “S… shut up! Ignore that! Come on! We need to cheer him up!” Laila insisted, pushing Mara out of the room and leaving the discarded scythe where it laid.

    1. Lunabear Avatar

      I really love how the humor balances the darkness in this story, Marx. You’re always so good at that.

      The fact that Matt wants a sword instead of a scythe, especially when two of his familiars already have swords, is incredibly heartbreaking and indicative of how he does not want to be Death’s Horseman. I truly feel for the guy. I do like the touch of him dropping his weapon, which can work as a conduit for harnessing his powers. So it’s sort of like an offshoot of his soul. Nice spin on the prompt.

      Meanwhile, Mara and Laila are just being themselves. Such a chaotic pairing, and I absolutely love it. I sincerely don’t care what anyone says; if I ever have the opportunity of meeting death themselves and holding their scythe, I would absolutely want to touch it. I think Laila does, too and doesn’t want to admit it.

      Never a dull moment in this universe, and I absolutely live for the happier/goofier/chaotic times. It’s really fun. I always look forward to what you write. Thank you for writing and sharing this one.

      1. Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it! And that the dark undertones of the story didn’t take away from the humor.

        And Laila wants to touch that scythe 100%. That’s why she was talking in plural when she was convincing Mara not to touch it. She was convincing herself as well.

        And you aren’t wrong. I’d totally want to touch the scythe as well. It’s completely understandable lol.

    2. I don’t think I’m familiar (heh) with what I assume to be a larger universe of yours, but this story was still a very interesting entry point, as all the relevant idiosyncracies of the world are explained well enough for the story to make sense and cleanly enough for it to progress without breaking pace.

      The dialogue is also very well executed, the disappointment felt by the main character is palpable. The story does make me wonder what would happen to Matt if he were to stay away from that scythe for too long, if it was made out of his soul… hmmmm… questions, questions…

      As for criticisms, I do feel like the sentence “You do remember that I can feel your emotions, right?” comes off as a bit awkward, I imagine it’s a mixture of having to explain to new readers what is happening in those final lines while having to deal with a relatively low wordcount limit. And I’m not a particularly great fan of Mara’s dialogue, but I feel like that’s just a personal general dislike for her “trope” than an actual case of poor characterization.

      1. I’m glad this worked as an entry point into my larger world. Lol I do try to do that with all my stories on here and some attempts are definitely more successful than others.

        As for what happens if Matt is away from his scythe too long? That is a good question lol. I’m leaning towards it becoming more and more uncomfortable until he goes back for it.

        Lol I won’t know for sure until I have a storyline reason to answer the question. It’s also possible that if he goes too far away the scythe would fade away and return to him on its own.

    3. vellichorian Avatar
      vellichorian

      I enjoy the back and forth between Mara and Laila. I can tell that they know each other well and bicker like this often. I think it works as a way to explain Matt’s anger and provide a contrast to it, since I assume that the process of forging a weapon from one’s soul is serious and potentially dangerous.

  13. Constellasphere Avatar
    Constellasphere

    “Dear You”
    By Constella

    “Dear Sister,

    I hope you’re doing well. As well as you can, wherever you are.”

    The ornate feather he held in his hand glittered in the light of the candle. His eyes were caught by it for a moment before he glanced around and realized how many sheets of paper he had gone through. Ares couldn’t even remember how long he’d been at this; It’s not like the clocks would give an answer, they were decorations more than anything. He ran a hand through messy gold waves before continuing.

    “I’m okay, in a sense. In the way that matters, right?”

    A frustrated sigh escaped him. What did that even mean? He crumpled yet another and discarded it among the growing sea.

    Ares’ ears flicked against curled horns as he laid out a new sheet. He didn’t immediately address the letter this time though. In his haste to write something out, he’d forgotten who he was writing to.

    If he had ever tried to speak so formally to his sister, she would have wondered what was wrong with him. Even to their superiors, Morgan acted as if they were no different from everyone else. Night Above, just remembering her attitude made him laugh fondly under his breath.

    Morgan. That name had become foreign to him, though he could never bring himself to lose it. Her pale eyes and azure hair waltzed across the peripherals of his memory; as much as he wished to forget, he couldn’t bear to do that to her.

    Though it should have brought him joy, her presence left him feeling neither alive nor lively. When the moon vanished, she took a part of him.

    Ares put the feather into the ink well and bowed his head, holding it in his hands. That familiar feeling rose from the emptiness. His chest felt like it was constricting, his thoughts overflowing, he couldn’t breathe. And yet, though he fought and eventually succeeded to hold it in, it never filled the void in him, in his being.

    Seeing that a few teardrops had landed on the paper, Ares discarded it.

    1. Lunabear Avatar

      Oooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh, Cons! I can feel your aura and hear your voice in every word. Ares’ emotions are very palpable. His reminiscing about Morgan and his sister and how he comes to the realization of certain aspects of their characters. Unless Morgan IS his sister. Either way, it is very sweet and tender.

      I love how Ares spills his soul on the paper, not only with how many times he’s rewritten this letter and his words, but also with his tears. It’s quite powerful and impactful.

      Night Above, just remembering her attitude made him laugh fondly under his breath. (I absolutely love this exclamation and the emotions that this statement evokes. It’s light hearted and warm and sweet.)

      Critiques:

      Ares couldn’t even remember how long he’d been at this(.) It’s not like the clocks would give an answer(;) they were decorations more than anything.

      His chest felt like it was constricting, his thoughts overflowing(.) (H)e couldn’t breathe.

      Please take these critiques with a grain of salt. They’re surface level and do nothing to deter from the story. It’s not often that you post. When you do, however, it is a joyous thing. I love the way you write and how you imbue such emotion and warmth and innocence within your stories. There’s also usually a touch of longing or sadness or loneliness threaded somewhere within the stories, and it is beautiful.

      I do hope that you can write for the prompt more often. If not, then I’m very glad for when you do write. Thank you so very much for sharing this one, and I can’t wait to see what comes next.

    2. Glaceon373 Avatar
      Glaceon373

      Ooooh, a very interesting piece, Constella! I like how you take something as seemingly simple as writing a letter and shape it into the true struggle that it is for Ares to write to his sister. The descriptions are also fun, and the line “When the moon vanished, she took a part of him” is also beautiful. Overall, Constella, I really enjoyed reading this piece. Great job!

  14. Glaceon373 Avatar
    Glaceon373

    What to Do About a Lost Soul
    by Carrie (Glaceon373)

    The loss of a soul is a costly thing. It is costly to the victim, but is also costly in terms of time.

    Sometimes, one’s soul is taken from them by force. A soul torn to shreds by someone with hatred in their heart. That will ruin more than one soul, in time. It always does. And it always takes time.

    This is also true when one’s soul is not taken away by another. Sometimes the loss of a soul is not at the fault of anyone specific. Sometimes, circumstances stack up and up and up, and one can find themselves without their soul, without the thing that exists to carry them through their life. But that loss takes time as well.

    For it is impossible for one’s soul to be truly torn away in an instantaneous moment. Sometimes it may feel that way. But you can trust my words that it always takes time for a soul to fall.

    But then what happens after it tumbles, down and down and down? What happens to a soul, lost from its home, with no one taking care of it? And what happens to the host, the victim, the one now soulless in a world fueled by the souls of everyone else?

    Well, there are many who lose their soul and never find it again. Rarely, someone is able to form a new soul, a soul without any of the original attached. But humans are creatures of habit. They will want their old selves back, time and time again.

    So what do they do? They search. They hunt. They fight. And they do not stop until they find themselves again. Or they die. Whichever comes first.

    So now, my friend, you have a choice to make.

    Your soul was ripped out of you, piece by piece, for months. It is all gone now. But you can find it again, if you try. You will have to search and hunt and fight. And you may die before you see it again.

    But are you willing to do so?

    1. Lunabear Avatar

      Quite a philosophical peace, Carrie. It’s very introspective. I like that you explore different ways to take a soul and the probable paths thereafter.

      An incredibly painful process, as well. Months of agony on end to extract the soul, even though retrospectively, it can feel like only a moment.

      I am curious as to what you can do with the soul once it’s been taken. Can you use it in a bartering system? Can you put it into another vessel? Can you harness the energy from it so that it can never be reincarnated again?

      The only critique I have is that you speak of time a lot. I understand you maybe using it to show how lengthy the process could take and how important time is to extracting the soul, but it felt like you referenced it too much. However, this is simply my opinion, and if the story achieved what you were going for this way, then that is fabulous. This is absolutely your story.

      Overall, I really do love how thought provoking this is. Not to mention the fact that it’s sort of a wink and challenge to the reader. Very well done. Thank you for writing and sharing this.

    2. Constellasphere Avatar
      Constellasphere

      This feels like the beginning of an RPG and I love it, as if the goal of the game is to fight and regain what was lost. The emphasis you put on the importance of the human soul and how far one will go to have it is beautiful. “They search. They hunt. They fight. And they do not stop until they find themselves again.” Those lines hit the hardest to me.

      Wonderful job

    3. vellichorian Avatar
      vellichorian

      The language in this piece makes the subject matter sound both academic and personal in a way that really works. I feels a little like the introduction to a self-help book for someone who has recently lost their soul and is looking for a way to heal. It’s both compassionate and challenging. I’m curious what the reader must do to recover.

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