When I look with my third eye and gaze into the future— I can hear a boom clap clap clap clap clap like the sound of a drum line. When I look deep within, I can hear the inevitable beating of war drums shake the Earth. What a shame. To have witnessed the end of the world and have no way to help turn things around for the better. How Grim of an end that we all met; and for me to have seen it (accidentally) and have nobody to lend an ear and actually trust my words— I feel lost. I feel like the captain of a sinking ship, that washed up along the shores of a deserted island after a brutal storm. Washed up along the shore of a strange land, I sway with the ebb and flow of the tide. High tide will rise amidst the fall of mankind— mark my words, for I have looked deep within my being. My battered limbs seep blood which draws the attention of nearby sharks. Shadows shift and slip away below me; into the Great Deep. It came up from the bottom of the sea. The depth of a sickness which is only paralleled by the sinking black void from which it had sprung up. I can feel how ancient it is. This illness. I can feel it’s progression from the world below; from the depths of the ocean, to the brink of the land. Crawling on all fours; primordial. Only to shift from beach to forest to cave, and then back again. Building momentum, increasing in strength. It was a very ancient virus indeed, that had sprung up from the bottom of the sea. The secret to it’s downfall is also down there too, I believe. Marks my words. This world will end in one fatal blast of Hellfire. Destruction will be mutually assured, I guarantee. I accidentally saw the end of the world during a psychedelic experience, and now I am left feeling hopeless; saddled with the guilt that I know how the world will end. I have no way to prevent it. I hope that if this story is spread far and wide, that somebody out there will believe it. Somebody with the power to affect real change in this sick, sick world of ours. It came up from the bottom of the sea— to spread, grow and progress into infinity— unless somehow disarmed or destroyed by a much more powerful force, indeed. Whatever the outcome, it will have been the Lord’s plan— and his judgement reigns supreme. No matter how Grim the final outcome may be. I will tell you this much— when it fell from the sky, God sighed. Our Holy Father in Heaven, laid his head in his hands and let out a long sigh, almost as if He were somewhat relieved. (To my horror). I will tell you this much— Every living thing that had eyes looked upon the fiery cloud as it spread and turned to black; turning day to night. All of the birds stopped chirping and laid down to roost in their nests, as darkness befell the land. Everything that had ears— heard the gutteral echo which swept across the land, ice, and sea. It ripped through the ocean; it flung surf and sand hundreds of miles into the air; sending men, ships and planes pummeling to their demise below. May We Rest In Peace. The blood of every living thing caught in it’s path sprayed outwards from each and every core; crimson fades to carbon black, bones and flesh obliterated to dust in the wind which whipped from the epicenter of the destruction. It ripped around every mountain, valley, forest, beach, desert, prairie, swamp, tundra, and cave, within moments of it’s decent to the Earth below. Every living thing that had lungs, breathed in and breathed out as a collective, all at once, as they witnessed the cloud of Hellfire rise above. As above, so below. The Great Equalizer: our demise has risen up from the bottom of the Deep. The only solution which I can think of, would originate from down there too, I believe. The key to preventing our untimely, brutal end lies obscured; in the darkness and beneath the depths of ocean. I can find hope at the bottom of the sea. Mark my words, for it will be the only thing capable of saving humanity. Although this virus which sweeps through God’s creation will cause death, destruction, and heartache the likes of which no mortal has ever seen— it is not actually a virus like you and I were made to believe. It is only but the hand of God; putting the scales of Absolute Truth back within balance; cruel Justice for a planet we’ve made barren; sucking dry any resource which yields monetary gain. The virus is not a virus. The virus is the hand of God. You and I are the real virus on this Earth. Humanity. We plague this Earth and strangle Her to death with the pollution, excess, greed, and ignorance which fuels our march to our fiery end. Fuel, in fact, will be a big player in who ultimately decides to toss the nuclear football— I can say that with upmost certainty. And after the dust settles, and humanity is wiped off the face of the Earth; the forces of Life itself will one day prevail to once again sweep across the desolate planet; through every river and desert, every Arctic tundra and jungle. Every lake, ocean and stream. Every abandoned outcropping of humanity will grow life from within the cracks which begin to grow. From between the cracks of pavement, Life will spread it’s roots again, to upend the mistakes which man has wrought, and God has sought to bring back into balance, I have seen. I have seen it with my own two eyes. Life will embrace the land and God will prevail, once our damned souls either ascend, fall, or just decide to pack up and leave. Our scales will hang in balance again someday; as they did before Original Sin— in the garden with Adam and Eve. In summation, mark my words— It came up from the bottom of the sea. The secret to it’s demise lies down there too, I believe. Humanity is the true virus which plagues this Earth; the illness which plagues humanity is nothing but the Hand of God restoring this world to righteousness. Our lives hang in a very finely tuned balance. Mankind has thrown off that delicate balance too much and too soon, quite obviously indeed. The torment of Lucifer will rain down upon us like a trillion knives; but it will only wish to pierce the veil of ignorance pulled over the eyes of mankind. We shall receive deliverance from the evil which was born, cultivated, and spread through the hearts of every mortal who dared suck the lifeblood out of our dying planet— due to their own selfish desires, for conquest, victory… and greed. Everything that has eyes will see the end as it befell our dear Earth, and not a single soul in that very moment would even dare to blink. It haunts me. Everything that has ears will hear the gutteral echo of the Great Equalizer; which will fall from the skies above and rip through the land with the force of God’s hand— a strength no mortal could ever truly appreciate or believe. I hope somebody out there believes me when they read this, and finds meaning in the way I said we could solve this all— —the answer lies within the deep, seemingly endless void below us in our oceans, and also above us in the endless expanse of outer space too, I can see. There are secrets which the Universe holds that are beyond the scope of comprehension by modern day man. That is why I have dreams which turn into reality. This is why I have these Grim visions of the End. It’s due to a force much greater and more powerful than you or I— a force which is beyond the scope of written language, beyond the realm of modern-day science, to be able to document, test, replicate, and prove with upmost certainty. I hope you don’t take me for a liar. I hope you believe me. When they burned all of the witches, do you really think that all of them died? Or did it only weed out the weaker ones, so that the strong witches may carry forth their bloodlines— eventually giving birth to a strange person like me. I remain haunted by the sigh of the Lord. Upon seeing the Great Equalizer, every living creature with lungs took one deep breath and then breathed out again together, all at once. The collective sigh of Life itself is a a haunting, ghastly noise. I will never forget it. I urge you to spread this story like wildfire so that it may be shared with somebody who has the power to affect real change upon our destiny. I am haunted. Haunted. Haunted! Blessed be.


Sam I was awoken from my daydream by the bell. School was way more boring than usual. The teacher seems like she doesn't want to be here, which I guess is understanble. Who'd rather be here than at home watching TV? As I pack my things, I hear my name being called. \- "Sam? Could you come here, please?" It was the teacher. I knew what she was going to say since my grades were so low. \- "I'd like you to join us at the extra class. Your grades are lower than they should be. Are you avilable?" \- "Sorry, I have to be home by that time."- I lied. \- "I understand, but please make an effort to be there." \- "Sure, I'll try. See you tomorrow, teach."- I said trying to get out of there as soon as possible. As I leave the school, I dread the walk home. I see other teenagers together planning their afternoon and kids playing at the park. Life can be fun sometimes, although it hasn't been fun for a few years. It's sunny with a nice breeze coming with it. Leaves colour the ground with various colours. I'm taking the longer way home in hopes I see Ethan and, for sure, I was right to do so. \- "Hey, Sam! How are you?"- said Ethan. His brown eye is wide open, and his slightly blon hair is covering the other one. He's the athletic type, so he catches up wit me quite quickly. \- "Hey, I'm fine. What about you? i heard you were sick."- I answered. \- "Oh, yeah, it was just the common cold, I'm fine. So, what's up? We haven't hung out in a while."- he asked. \- "Nothing much. Next thursday is my birthday, though. Do you want to hang out? We could go to the lake and, if you're okay with my dad being home, we could watch a movie at my place and eat lunch."- I proposed. \- "Sure, I'd love to. Why would I not be okay to go with your dad home?"- he asked, confused. \- "Oh, you've met him."- I said.- "You know how he is. He's cold and doesn't talk much. Just thought maybe it would make you uncomfortable." \- "Nah, it's not a problem."- he reassured me.- "Look, I've got to go, but I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" \- "Sure, see you!" I continue my way home wondering if inviting Ethan to go to my house was a good idea. My father's not really the friendly kind. Since I can remember, he's always been distant. He doesn't talk much, he's always in his bedroom and never really showed any kind of affection. To be honest, sometimes I think he hates me. From what some members of my family have told me, my mother died when I was young, but neither them nor my father have told me how. Maybe that's why he's so grumpy all the time. Before I realize, I'm home. As soon as I open the door, the smell of burnt coffee hits me like a truck. I guess my father's home. \- "Hey, dad."- I greeted him. \- "Hi." And that was the most I was going to get. I went into my room to do my homework. No to my surprise, it was a mess. There were some clothes on the floor and my bed wasn't made. My desk was full of papers and notebooks lying around. I must clean this up or I won't be able to get anything done. Fifteen minutes later and although it is better, it's still a mess, but a manageable one. It's now fifteen past ten and I'm starting to get hungry. I'm still in the middle of my homework but I won't be able to concentrate if I'm hungry. I step out of my room trying to hear if my father's in the kitchen. A wave of relief spreads through my body when I realize he's not. Three-day old cold pasta with tuna is my dinner. My father doesn't cook often, so this ought to do it. After finishing eating my dinner, I remember I need a permisson signed for school. We're going on a field trip to the capital next month. I don't want to go, but it's pratically mandatory and to make it worse, this means I have to talk to my father. I knock on his door trying to understand what he's watching. \- "Dad? Could you come here, pleas?"- I asked. The door opens and my father comes out. He has bags under his eyes and he hasn't shaved his beard for a few days now. The smell of cigarettes and beer came out of the room as soon as he opened the door. He's not the best at taking care of himself. \- "I need you to sign this permission for school, please. We're going on a field trip next month."- I said. He sighs as he grabs the pen from my hand. \- "Also, we have to pay 5$ to the school so they can rent the bus."- I said, trying to ignore his annoyed face as he grabs his wallet. \- "Here."- he mumbled, giving me the money and then he closed the door as quickly as he could. That was basically how our conversations went. Never more than a few words and annoyed looks. He's never yelled at me nor got mad at me. He just seems bothered that he has to take care of me. I don't remember seeing him smile once, for as long as I've been alive. He always seems hurt or empty, especially when I catch him looking at my mother's photo that is on the living room. My family never talks about her, but always seems to want to. They always look at my father before saying anything and then change the subject. They've done that so many times, that I've given up on trying to know what happened, but the doubt never leaves and I, someday, would like to know. It's a new day now, and after first perid, I went looking for Ethan. As always, he's playing football with some friends. I don't want to interrupt so I stand beside the bench waiting for him to see me. He's a good player. In the five minutes I've been here, he's managed to run across the field avoiding the other players and has scored twice. He finally notices me and tells the others to continue to play without him. \- "Hi, Sam. What are you doing here?"- he asked. \- "Just wanted to give you more information about my birthday and see if you wanted to hang out."- I said. \- "Sure, let's go to the cafeteria, then. I'm starving."- he complained. \- "You always are."- I said, laughing. We entered the cafeteria, and the smell of baked goods and coffee started making me hungry as well. We ordered two sandwiches and juices and then sat outside. \- "So, you want to go to the lake, right?"- he said. \- "Yeah, it's peaceful so I thought we'd go there for a bit. Do you mind?"- I asked. \- "Not at all. It'll be fun."- he reassured me. \- "Then, we could go to my place. I have darts and we could play videogames." \- "Oh, cool! I have some at my place as well. If you want, I could bring them to yours."- he offered. \- "Sure, I'd love that. Thanks." \- "No problem." \-"So, i was thinking we'd meet up at the gate and then go to the lake. About 16:30h, what do you think?"- I said. \- "Sounds great, can't wait!"- he said, excitingly. We finished eating and then went to a walk around the school. We talked about school, what we were going to do once we were on vacation, and then talked about the most random things anyone could think of. The bell rang, and we each went into our classrooms. It's Thursday, now, my birthday. My father's been getting progressively more depressed as the week went by. He always got like that around that time of the year and as always, he hadn't wished me happy birthday. I pass by his room and knock on his door like I did every morning. It was my way of saying good morning to him. He never responded. I got ready for school and on my way to it, I ran into Ethan. He was excited for that day, more than I was but it was nice to see him like that. He said that he had forgotten my present at his house, so we had to go there before heading to the lake. I told him it wasn't necessary for him to get me a present and he just smiled at me and continued walking. It was 16:15h and I was starting to get anxious. With my father being the way he is, I was afraid Ethan would get bummed by him or say anything that would make my father mad. He had met him before, but it still made me anxious everytime they were together. As I was reaching the gate, I saw Ethan radiating joy. I didn't understand why he was so happy and it kind of made me feel like I should have been happier. \- "Hey, Sam! Happy birthday, pal!"- he said that so loudly that people around, that ididn't even know, started wishing me happy birthday as well. If I had somewhere to hide, I would have. \- "Thank you, Ethan."- said I, sarcastically because he knew I hated that.- "And thank you, everyone." \- "Don't be so embarassed, Sam. It's your day, you get to be the centre of attentions!"- ha said, trying to comfort me. \- "That's the problem. I don't like to be the centre of the attention."- I answered, trying not to seem ungrateful. \- "I know, I know. But some day you're going to have to come out of your shell. You can't live like that for the rest of your life."- he advised. \- "I know, but not now."- I said, smiling. \- "Okay, okay. So, let's get going then." We headed to Ethan's place, and he seemed extra happy when he was going to open the door. As I saw his family jumping and yelling "Surprise!" I understood why. \- "Oh, sweetie. Happy birthday, dear."- said Mrs. Stevens, Ethan's mother. \- "Thank you. Thank you so much."- I said. I looked around and saw a table full of all kinds of food and beverages. I can't believe Ethan had told them to do that, but at the same time, I was so glad he did. His family was really nice, and i liked them a lot, and from what they had said, they liked me too. \- "Here, buddy. From all of us."- Mr. Stevens gave me an envelope with 40$ in it with the warmest smile on his face. \- "I...I can't accept this. It's too much." \- "You can and you will, buddy. You're a great friend to Ethan and part of the family. We love you and hope you have a great year. Now, accept this, please."- he said. Tears filled my eyes as I heard this. It felt so good to have such amazing people care for me. Mr. and Mrs. Stevens noticed that I was tearing up and hugged me. Since they met me, six years ago, they knew about my mother and father. Maybe that was why they had a special care for me and always asked me if I was okay. I looked at Ethan and thanked him for preparing the party. \- "Thanks, man. I think I needed this." \- "I know you did, pal. Happy birthday." We ate, we laughed, and I heard the funniest stories about them. Some of them I already knew and others I just bursted out laughing. I finished eating around 8pm and then, I helped them clean the mess we had made. Ethan walked me home and I invited him in. My father was in the kitchen making some coffee. I was so happy that, for a moment, I forgot who I was talking to. \- "Hi, dad. I just had the best birthday ever! Ethan and his family prepared a surprise party for me. It was so cool! There were lots of food and drinks and we..."- I was interrupted halfway through. \- "Shut up. I don't care."- the hatred in my father's voice scared me to my bones. I looked at Ethan. He seemed as surprised and as scared as I was. That was the most reaction I had ever gotten out of him. \- "But, dad, you should've been there. You would've had so much fun, and you would've liked Ethan's parents as well." \- "Stop talking! You never stop. Don't you get it? I don't care about what happened. I don't care about what you're feeling, and I denfinitely don't care about your birthday party. Just shut up and pretend I'm not here. God knows I am." The silence that followed weighed on me like I was carrying two tons of bricks on my back. Why is he like this? And why now, with Ethan here? I sat down and as my father was leaving the kitchen, I got the courage to ask him something I had always wanted to know. \- "...Dad... do you hate me?" He stopped halfway through the door. He turned around and started almost running towards me. He grabbed my shirt and pushed me against the wall. My body froze when I looked at his eyes. Thos eyes full of hatred and anger... all directed at me. \- "Stop!"- Ethan yelled. My father ignored him. \- "Why do I hate you? How about because you were the one who killed my wife?! She would've been alive if it weren't for you!" My heart sunk.


16 years before I had just gotten off work more tired than usual. I was out of town for the next week because of work and that meant I had no idea what to do when I wasn't working. I didn't know anyone and didn't know any good places to visit, so I just sat on my couch watching TV and eating the snacks I had brought with me. When I went to the fridge to grab a soda, I realized I was all out. Which supermarket was the closest? I turned on my computer and searched. Turned out, there was a Walmart a couple blocks away. I got my keys and got in the car. The voice of the GPS lady was starting to annoy me, so I turned it off for the road. I entered the Walmart and started looking for the beverages section. I found it quite quickly and grabbed other groceries I needed to the motel room. As I was getting ready to pay, I noticed the cashier. She had liquid blonde hair rolling down her shoulders and her blue eyes were looking back at me. She scanned the items delicately, even though they weren't fragile, and I tried to get the courage to say something. Unfortunately, all I could do was say thanks and get out of there. That same day, at night, I couldn't stop thinking about her. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever met, and she had the most soothing voice Ihad ever heard. In that moment, in that day, I decided I'd ask her out. So, for the following week, I went to that same Walmart everyday hoping to see her and every day I would ask her for her phone number. She'd say no, always smiling, until the last day. In that day, as I was getting ready to say goodbye, she said she would give me her phone number and get a coffee with me, but only if she could bring a friend. I went home that day with the biggest smile on my face. She'd said yes! I delayed my return for a couple of days so I could get to know her. On our first date, I had asked the waiter to put a rose on her seat and some on the table. Thanks to my car, I was late and when I got there, she was sitting at another table. I smiled and said, "That's not the right one.". She looked at me confused and then I pointed at the other table. \- "That one. That obvious one with roses."- I said laughing. \- "Oh, I thought that was for someone else."- she giggled. We ate, we talked and then, at the en of the night, I kissed her. It took all my courage to do that, and I was scared she wouldn't like it, but for my relief, she kissed me back. I was reying to sleep that night, but I couldn't. I couldn't believe how well the date had gone. We spent the next days texting each other, and we'd go out every night. When I had to go back home, I called her and arranged a date. \- "These last few day have been amazing."- I said, trying to hide my anxiety about what I was going to say next.- "Unfortunetly, I have to go back home. I know we've only mat a few days ago, but I would really like if we could keep talking. What do you say?" She took some time to answer which made me almost open a hole on the floor and escape through it. \- "I'd love that as well."- she finally said.- "It's not everyday I meet someone as nice and funny as you. I'd love to keep talking." After a few weeks, we started dating. I was over the moon the whole time. She was so funny and delightful. I literally couldn't have asked for someone better. I'd visit her at least once a month and she'd do the same when she could. After a year, we agreed it was time for us to live together. We rented an appartment on the city I lived in since I couldn't quit my job. It wasn't the best appartment, but it was great with her living in it. On the first day we slept on the appartment, I woke up earlier and made breakfast. Then, I brought it to bed and surprised her. I started doing that every weekend as our relationship progressed. I was a little messy and was scared that she wouldn't like it and that it would lead to an argument, but she didn't mind. She'd make jokes here and there about it and I got better at it along the years that passed. She'd sing while cooking, cleaning and basically while doing anything. She had a beautiful voice and sometimes I'd just stop whatever I was doing and listen to her. She was trying to be a singer but hadn't had any success. I didn't understand how, though. She was absolutely amazing. I remember when I asked her to marry me. We had been together for 4 years and we were on one of the best stages of our relationship. We were close, intimate and had complete trust in each other, so I thought it was a good time to ask. I did it on a date nate. We had made reservations at a really fancy restaurant which made me think that she knew I was going to propose. We entered the restaurant and set on the table. I spent a good minute looking at her, admiring her beauty and she obviously got confused. \- "What's wrong?"- she asked. \- "Nothing. Just looking at how beautiful you are."- I answered. She blushed and avoided eye contact as she always did. \- "So, I have amazing news."- she announced. \- "What is it?"- I asked nervously, because the only thing I could think of was that she was pregnant. \- "I got a gig!"- she yelled. \- "What? Really?"- I asked, surprised.- "That's amazing! Congratulations!" \- "Thank you. You'll see it, right?"- she said. \- "Of course, I will. I wouldn't miss it for the world."- I answered. We ate, we talked and, at the end of the night, along with the desert, it had arrived the time to ask. \- "So, the last few years have been amazing..."- my voice started to crack because I was so nervous.- "Everything thanks to you. And I hope they have been the best of your life as well."- she nodded with her head yes.- "And so, as to prolong our journey and this happiness..."- I kneeled on one knee and she quickly realized what was about to happen and blushed again.- "... I would like to make you my wife. Anna, will you marry me?" She jumped out of her seat. \- "Yes! Of course, yes! Oh my god!"- she yelled and everyone in the restaurant started clapping. We kissed and hugged and told each other we loved one another. That night I went to sleep as the happiest man alive. I couldn't believe I was going to marry the girl of my dreams. I couldn't fell asleep and when I looked at her, she wasn't sleeping either. I guess the adrenaline of everything kept us both up. We spent the whole night talking and laughing. It was the best day I could ever have asked for. A year later, I found out she was pregnant. I was going to have a kid! I spent the whole nine months talking to the little guy and doing all sorts of stuff to make Anna as comfortable as I could. I'd cook her breakfast, pull her hair up when she was throwing up from morning sickness, went to all the appointments, etc... I had an image of what my son was going to be like and what personality he would have. I already loved him even not knowing him. Nine months later and on a random day at work, I got a call. \- "Hey, hon. Come home, please. I think my water broke." \- "What?! How are you so calm?!"- I said, clearly freaking out. \- "Calm down. I've read all the books and have watched some of my friends go through this. Just please come home. I don't want to be alone when the contractions start."- she said. \- "Of course, honey. I'll be there in 10min, I love you." \- "Love you too." I arrived home to find my wife wiping the floor. \- "No, no, no, no. You can't be doing any of that; we have to go to the hospital!"- I said. \- "Not yet. The contractions have to be 5min apart, I think." \- "You sure?" \- "Yeah." A few minutes later and she was screaming bloody murder. I grabbed her bag, and we went to the hospital as quickly as we could. The little guy would take 10 hours to come out. I spent the whole time with her. At 4am, she went into the delivery room. \- "Ten centimetres. You'r ready to go."- said the doctor. \- "Oh, God. This is it. Can he come?"- Anna asked. \- "Of course. It's actually better if he comes. You'll feel slightly more comfortable." \- "Good." My heart was pounding. I had absolutely no idea what to do. I had read all the books about what to do, but as soon as we entered the delivery room, all that knowledge went out the window. I was shaking. So happy I was going to meet him. \- "Push, sweetie. C'mon, you can do this. On three. One, two... three!"- I said. She was pressing my hand so hard I was afraid she was going to break it. She was yelling and suddenly... she stopped. Her hand went weak. I could only hear the doctor. \- "Wait, someting's wrong."- the doctor said.- "Help me, she's bleeding. She's bleeding a lot." My heart stopped. The nurse went to help the doctor. \- "I can't stop the bleeding. At this rate, we'll only be able to save the baby." The delivery room was full all the sudden. All I could hear were doctors and nurses talking, almost yelling. Abruptly, the ECG machine stopped beeping and started to make the most horrifying sound. I looked at it. My wife had flat lined. \- "What's happening?! Please save her."- I pratically yelled at the doctor while grabbing him. \- "Someone get him out of here, please! Mark, help me here! I'll try to save the baby."- the doctor shouted. \- "NO, NO, NO. Save her, please."- I cried. I ran to my wife. Somehow, I had gotten her blood on my hands. I was crying. I didn't know what to do. As I looked at the love of my life, I saw her empty eyes looking back at me. She wasn't moving anymore. Someone had taken her life way and mine went with hers as well. I looked behind me and saw the murderer. He was crying, yelling, completely oblivious to what he had done. I felt sorry for him, but I felt the rage pulsating through my veins. How could I ever have cared for him? Men carried him away while I cried uncontrolably on the floor. That day, that faithful day... that was the day I met the murderer of my wife. My son.


Present day (Sam) \- "Wait... what do you mean by that?"- I asked, completely confused. \- "You heard me. She died giving birth to you."- he said, with the most disgusted face he could make. I looked at Ethan. He was shocked. I was frozen and couldn't move. She died giving birth to me? I... killed her? Before I could organize my thoughts, my father punched me in the nose. I was so shocked I couldn't even feel the pain. only the blood running down my nose. \- "HEY! Stop that!"- Etan yelled.- "Sam, come here. We're going to the hospital, now!" Ethan grabbed me and led me to the outside. My father was just going in circles around the kitchen saying "crap", again and again. Ethan called his parents and, in the blink of an eye, they were at my door. \- "Oh, Sam. What did he do to you? Are you okay?"- I was frozen and so, Mrs. Stevens helped me get in the car.- "Oh, sweetie. That bastard. I knew we should've done something before it was too late." Mr. Stevens entered my house yelling at my father. I tried to stop him, but nothing came out. I felt tears running down my face. Was I crying? How... how could he do this? I know he blames me, but I was just a baby. It wasn't my fault... was it? Am I really to blame? Did I really... killed my mother? It couldn't be. Ethan was holding me while I sobbed copiously. Between blood and tears, I stained all of my clothes and Ethan's. \- "Hey, dude. It's going to be okay. Don't worry. We'll take care of you."- Ethan comforted me. I was so out of it that I couldn't even answer him. I just hugged him stronger. We arrived at the hospital. I hadn't said a word since he punched me. Mr. and Mrs. Stevens talked to the nurse, and she wouldn't stop looking at me asking what had happened. I didn't say anything, and Mr. Stevens lied and said I injured myself playing football. She looked at me for a bit longer and then led us to a room. A couple minutes later and I had a piece of metal on my nose. Apparently, my father had broken it. I slept at Ethan's that night. I was staring at the top bunk bed while laying on the bottom one. I stood there in silence, crying and hoping Ethan wouldn't hear me. After half an hour, Ethan asked if I was awake. \- "Hey, Sam. Are you awake?" \- "Yes."- I mumbled. \- "How are you doing?"- I didn't answer him.- "You know we love you, right?" \- "Yeah, I know. But why didn't he?"- I asked. \- "I don't know, pal. I'm sorry." After a few hours, I fell asleep. I had the worst nightmare that night and woke up gasping for air. Ethan helped me calm me down and then we went into the kitchen. \- "Good morning, Sam. How are you?". Mrs. Stevens asked. \- "I'm not sure. My nose still hurts a lot."- I answered. \- "Don't worry about it. The doctor gave us some painkillers for you. It should be less painful in a few hours."- Mrs. Stevens informed me. \- "Thank you."- I said. \- You hungry?"- Mr. Stevens asked me. \- "No, not really. But thanks."- I said. \- "C'mon. You need to eat something. Just a yogurt, at least."- Mr. Stevens convinced me. \- "Okay..."- I compromised. I spent the whole day quiet while Ethan's parents tried to solve the mess my father had made the night before. Ethan tried to distract me as much as he could the whole day. We played some games, went for a walk and watched a movie. He was the best friend I could ever have asked for. At the end of the day, I just hugged him and thanked me. He hugged me back and said I didn't have to. It was agreed after a few weeks that Ethan's parents would take my custody. I'd live with them, and they reported the accident to the police. I wasn't sure how I felt about that at the time. Though my father did hit me, I didn't want him to get in trouble. Either way, living with the Stevens was the best decision. My father went to court for what he had done, and it was said that he couldn't be alone with me. Someone had to be there ass a witness, so the accident wouldn't happen again. After the first year, my father moved out of town, and I never saw him again. But it dind't matter. I had Ethan and his parents. My surrogate family. I loved them as if they were my family since the beginning. I eventually found out where my mother was buried and would visit the cemetery every month. My family started to be a little more open about her, so I had an idea as to who she was. I found out she liked to sing, that she was funny, nice and overall, just lovely. I wish i had met her. Maybe my life would've been different. Maybe things would've been better. Maybe things would've been worse. Who knows? The end. Thank you for reading.


###Attention: The SerSun deadline has changed! **Serial Sunday Campfire has moved to 1pm EST (Saturdays). That means that the deadline to submit your story is now Saturday at 12pm EST - this is for all submitters, not just Campfire attendees. The feedback and nomination deadline is now Saturday at 11:59pm EST.** #Welcome to Serial Sunday! To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I will post a single theme to inspire you. You have 850 words to tell the story. Feel free to jump in at any time if you feel inspired. Writing for previous weeks’ themes is not necessary in order to join. Each week you are required to provide feedback for at least 2 other writers on the thread. Please be sure to read the entire post for a full list of rules.   *** #This week's theme is Lore! This week we’re going to explore the theme of ‘lore’. Every community or world has their history; tales told and retold, passed down from one generation to the next. Some of this lore may be simple historical events, others may be a set of beliefs, caution tales, or superstition. How do these things affect your world in current times? How many of these traditions and beliefs are still held? Where is the history kept; is it told only by word of mouth, or are the stories of the past confined to a book? What happens when a community’s buried past is revealed? A lot of history isn’t pretty. When that comes to light, how do the characters react? What if the lore challenges their beliefs or goals? These are just a few things to get you started. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. | |   *** #Theme Schedule: I recognize that writing a serial can take a bit of planning. Each week, I release the following 2 weeks’ themes here in the Schedule section of the post. You can even vote on the upcoming themes on the Nomination form! - April 17 - Lore (this week) - April 24 - Mask - May 1 - Night   *** **Previous Themes:** | | | | | | | | | | | | *** #How It Works: In the comments below, submit a story that is between 500 - 850 words in your own original universe, inspired by this week’s theme. This can be the beginning of a brand new serial or an installment in your in-progress serial. You have until 12pm EST the following Saturday to submit your story. Come back later in the week and leave a feedback comment on at least 2 other stories on the thread.   *** #The Rules: - **All top-level comments must be a story inspired by the theme.** You can interpret the theme any way you like as long as the connection is clear and you follow all post and sub rules. Use the stickied comment for off-topic discussion and questions you may have. - **Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets** (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). This will allow our serial bot to track your parts and add your serial to the full catalog. If you don’t use the correct titling format, your serial will be automatically removed by the bot. (Please note: In order for the bot to recognize your serial, you **must** use the exact same name each week. Titles can not be edited in after the fact. Should you make a mistake or forget, you will need to repost.) - **Do not pre-write your serial.** You may do outlining and planning ahead of time, but you need to wait until the post is released to begin writing for the current week. Pre-written content or content written for another prompt or post is not allowed. - **Stories must be 500-850 words.** Use to check your word count. Stories outside the wordcount will be disqualified, so don’t forget to check! **You may include a *brief* recap at the top of your post each week if you like, and it will not count against the wordcount.** - **Stories must be posted by Saturday 12pm EST.** That is one hour before the beginning of Campfire. Stories submitted after the deadline will be disqualified and will not be eligible for rankings or Campfire readings. - **Only one serial per author at a time.** This does not include serials written outside of Serial Sunday. - **Authors must leave at least 2 feedback comments on the thread each week (that’s on two different stories).** The feedback must be **actionable** and should include at least one *detail* about what the author has done well. You have until Saturday night at 11:59pm EST to post your feedback. Those who go above and beyond (more than 5 actionable, in-depth crits) will be rewarded with “Crit Credits” that can be used on our sister sub, r/WPCritique. - **Missing your feedback requirement two or more consecutive weeks will disqualify you from rankings and Campfire readings the following week.** If it becomes a habit, you may be asked to move your serial to the sub instead. - **Serials must abide by subreddit content rules.** This includes, but is not limited to, explicit suicide or suicide-note stories, pedophilia, rape, bestiality, necrophilia, incest, explicit sex, and graphic depictions of abuse or torture. You can view a . If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, please modmail and ask!   *** #Reminders: - **If you are continuing an in-progress serial (one that you began off of Serial Sunday), please include links to the prior installments on Reddit.** - **Saturdays I host a Serial Campfire in our .** Join us to read your story aloud and hear other stories. We provide feedback for all those present. The time has changed! **We now start at 12pm EST.** You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. You don’t even have to write to join! - **Nominations for your favorite stories can be submitted .** The form is open on Saturdays from 12pm to 11:59pm EST. You do not have to participate to make nominations! - **Authors who complete their Serial Sunday serials with at least 12 installments, can host a SerialWorm in our Discord’s Voice Lounge, where you read aloud your finished and edited serials.** This is to celebrate your wonderful accomplishment and provide some extra motivation to cross that finish line. Authors are eligible for this only if they have followed the 2 feedback comments per thread rule (and all other post rules). Visit us on the Discord for more information. - **There’s a Serial Sunday role on the Discord server**, so make sure you grab that so you’re notified of all Serial Sunday related news, including posts and Campfires!   *** #Ranking System The weekly rankings work on a point-based system. Note that you must use the theme each week to qualify for points! Here is the current breakdown: **Nominations (votes sent in by users):** - First place - 60 points - Second place - 50 points - Third place - 40 points - Fourth place - 30 points - Fifth place - 20 points - Sixth place - 10 points **Feedback:** - Written feedback (on the thread) - 5 points each (25 pt. cap) - Verbal feedback (during Campfire) - 5 points each (15 pt. cap), this does not count toward the required 2. **Nominating Other Stories:** - Submitting nominations for your favorite stories - 5 points (total) *Note: In order to be eligible for feedback points, you must complete your 2 required feedback comments. These are included in the max point value above. Your feedback must be **actionable**, listing at least one thing the author did well, to receive points. (“I liked it, great chapter” style comments will not earn you points or credit.)* ***So what is actionable feedback?*** Actionable feedback should be constructive, something that the author can use to improve. A critique not only outlines the issue or weakness, but uses specific examples and explanations to describe why it may be doing, or not doing, what it should. You can or these previous crits from Serial Sunday: | |   *** #Rankings In case you missed the announcement at the top of the post, please be aware that the Serial Sunday submission deadline is now on Saturday at 12:00 pm EST. The deadline for feedback and nominations is now Saturday at 11:59pm EST. - - by u/stickfist   - - by u/rainbow\-\-penguin   - - by u/katherine_c   - - by u/FyeNite   - **Crit Star - Awarded 1 crit credit** - u/rainbow\-\-penguin   *** ###Subreddit News - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


Helen shook. Her muscles ached from shaking. She had always hated the darkness but grew to dread the sliver of light that came when the door creaked open. She closed her eyes to the darkness and tried to take herself far away. She traveled to her grandfather's house, where he would tell her stories that brought tears to his eyes while he smiled. She went to memories as they faded and held them like a limb. Still, the black pierced her eyelids and betrayed her delusions. Helen felt her way into a corner and took a deep breath of stale air. Her mind found its way back to its most convincing tangent; her room transformed into the peace and certainty of a tomb. Helen held her breath and drifted off before the next. A sharp pain woke her from her restless sleep. As quickly as she opened her eyes to the black, her hand shot out and grabbed at the rat that had been feasting on her. She fought the desire to squeeze the life out of it as it contorted to bite at the flesh of her hand. Holding its head tightly, the rat continued to claw at her in a struggle for its life. Helen tied a rope of torn cloth around its tail, then threw the rat hard against the concrete floor. As Helen hoped, the stunned rat fled frantically. Helen held a loose grip on her rope and let the rat lead her. Climbing up the rough walls, the rat found its exit easily in the darkness. Helen felt along the rope and found a small crack in the concrete at the edge of her reach. She wondered how the rat could have squeezed through. Still holding the rope, she felt around for her bucket and placed it directly beneath the crack to use as a stool. Helen pulled at the rat, still fighting to get free. She planned to kill it to avoid being bitten again, but as she reeled in its gnawed off tail she realized she simply hated it. Helen began to chip away at the concrete. She had managed to slide one of the iron rings off of the bucket and bend it into a brittle tool. The concrete crumbled faster than it ate away at the rusted iron, but soon wore it down to a sharp splinter Helen could not hold in her fingertips. Standing on the bucket, she twisted her hand to fit through the crack. Her skin tore in deep lines as she reached past her wrist. As she stretched to reach further the bucket broke. Helen's wrist snapped as she dropped. Her cry shocked her. She had lost her voice soon after arriving and hadn't heard it since. Dragging her swollen hand from the hole, she cracked her teeth as she bit down in pain. Helen sat against the wall and let out a terrible sound that echoed for too long. The sound of the door's mechanism alerted her to the arrival of her host and Helen quickly shielded her eyes in the crook of her arm. The door creaked open slowly and the figure stepped in. They did not speak. Helen's eyes still burned from the occasions she had tried to see her captor or neglected to shield her eyes. The being shone a blinding light towards Helen, who had become accustomed to darkness and could not focus her eyes through the pain. "Why?" Helen asked, knowing she would never get her answer. They brought Helen's food and water, hardly a mouthful left to pool in an indentation in the floor and left immediately. The closing door shifted the stagnant air. She finished her stale bread and water before she finished starving. Helen could not remember how she had gotten here, only waking up to black. Time passed. Helen could only guess how long it had been by the length of her fingernails, that had broken in the cracks of the door and grown back brittle. The rat without a tail returned as Helen sat motionless. At first, the bravery of the rat shocked her but as she held it, she realized it had no choice. The rat was starved and skeletal. It fought weakly for a moment before surrendering to Helen's grip. Helen snapped its neck with a thumb and wept for it. The wrist healed wrong and the crack in the wall grew. She wasn't sure if it was resolve or boredom that made her continue, knowing it was hopeless. Rat bones carved lines in the crumbling concrete and after those wore down, Helen used callused fingertips. Her captor came and went with no set pattern. Helen kept trying to communicate as they refused to acknowledge her. Always shining the light. She starved on the meager bread and soon began to feel like the rat without a tail. Helen's hatred grew and she stopped caring *why*. She couldn't be certain her captor was even human and it had treated her worse than an animal. Helen shook. Her joints ached as she held herself up against the wall. She waited. Helen wondered if waiting for nothing was a contradiction and felt comfort knowing her wait would soon be over no matter the outcome. Eventually, the familiar sound of the door's mechanism woke her from a trance. Straining to see through a sliver in her eyelids, she waited for the figure to enter. The intensity of the light made Helen reel but she caught a glimpse of her captor's silhouette. Helen lunged at the figure, who collapsed weakly to the floor. "Why!" Helen screamed, over and over as she clawed at her captor, who was still shining the light in Helen's eyes. They did not fight back and still kept completely silent. Even now they could not acknowledge Helen and this infuriated her even more. Moments passed although Helen realized moments were subjective and she had no frame of reference. She stood and the figure remained motionless on the floor. The light still shined. Helen felt along the wall for the door and left frantically, pushing it shut behind her. She exited into a hallway with a single flickering neon light. Eventually, her eyes adjusted and she was finally able to see. Her arms were caked in blood, concrete dust and crossed with scars. The wrist that had broken was discolored and twisted. She was emaciated and broken but she was alive. Water dripped onto Helen's head and she noticed a small crack in the ceiling. The hallway ended with an identical door and Helen proceeded towards it. In the center of the hallway Helen found a small door-less room. Inside was a shelf that held nearly a full loaf of the stale bread she had been fed. As Helen choked it down her dry throat, she noticed a large hole in an upper corner of the room. Helen continued down the hallway and lifted the latch to the door opposite her cell. As it opened, the hallway filled with the same intense light that her captor had used. Helen screamed and shielded her eyes as she pushed the door closed again. Believing she had gotten turned around, she ran down the hallway to the other door and opened it cautiously. A faint glow emanated from the crack in the door and as it opened fully, she saw the being she had known as her captor still face down on the floor. Their flesh gave off a light that was fading slowly. Confused, Helen approached the figure cautiously and tested it with a kick. Confident they were dead, Helen turned them over. Helen ignored the light as she recognized their face but could not quite place it. Then, Helen saw the being's wrist. It had been broken and healed in the same position as hers. Helen stood over her own body, nearly starved beyond recognition. A husk of herself. In shock, she backed into the hallway slowly as she tried to convince herself it was a hallucination. Helen returned to the light filled room and, with closed eyes, began to feel along the walls for an exit. She felt no other doorway but refused to believe it until she had circled the room several times. She only felt the same rough concrete walls from her cell. On her last pass, Helen tripped over something placed against the wall that she recognized as a bucket identical to the one she had been using. Feeling the wall directly above where it was placed, Helen found what she expected; a hole carved into the concrete. The mouth was wider and it continued further than the one Helen had carved. Helen felt around the edges and was confident she could fit. Without hesitation, she accepted her insanity and pulled herself in. The light persisted through the claustrophobic tunnel forcing Helen to keep her eyes closed as she crawled. She felt a smooth edge in the concrete ahead and eventually squeezed through to a gap in the wall. This small space seemed to exist for ventilation, though the air was still stagnant. The tunnel narrowed as Helen inched forwards and her body soon blocked all the light coming from the room as she found herself stuck. She opened her eyes. The tunnel continued several feet and ended with another hole carved into the corner. It was faintly illuminated by the pattern of the hallway's flickering neon light. And she watched it flicker for what felt like forever.


#Welcome to the Micro Monday Challenge! Hello writers! Welcome to Micro Monday! I am excited to present you all with a chance to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic? I’m glad you asked! Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I’ll give you a single constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. It might be an image, song, theme word, sentence, or a simple writing prompt. You’re free to interpret the prompt how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. **Please read the entire post before submitting.** Remember, feedback matters! And don’t forget to upvote your favorites and nominate them using the new form!   *** #This week’s challenge: **Prompt: This place was more prison than paradise.** *Bonus Constraint (worth 5 extra pts.)* - Use at least three of the following words: - grey - resort - scavenge - nest - makeshift - breeze This week’s challenge is to use this simple writing prompt as inspiration for your story. You may interpret the prompt any way you like, as long as the connection is clear and you follow all sub and post rules. The sentence does not need to appear in your story (but you are more than welcome to, if you like). The bonus constraint is not required.   *** #How It Works - **Submit a story between 100-300 words in the comments below.** You have until Sunday at 11:59pm EST. (No poetry.) - **Use to check your word count.** The title is not counted in your final word count. Stories under 100 words or over 300 will be disqualified from campfire readings and rankings. - **No pre-written content allowed.** Submitted stories should be written for this post, exclusively. Micro serials are acceptable, but please keep in mind that each installment should be able to stand on its own and be understood without leaning on previous installments. - **Come back throughout the week, read the other stories, and leave them a comment on the thread with some feedback.** You have until **2pm EST Monday** to get your feedback in. Only **actionable feedback** will be awarded points. See the ranking scale below for a breakdown on points. - **Please follow all subreddit rules and be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here; we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. You can find a list of . - **Nominate your favorite stories at the end of the week .** You have until **2pm EST** next Monday to submit nominations. (Please note: The form does not open until Monday morning, after the story submission deadline.) - **If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the *stickied comment* on this thread or through modmail.** Top-level comments are reserved for story submissions. - And most of all, be creative and have fun!   *** #Campfire & Nominations - On Mondays at 12pm EST, I hold a Campfire on our server. We read all the stories from the weekly thread and provide verbal feedback for those who are present. Come join us to read your own story and listen to the others! You can come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Everyone is welcome! - Nominations are made . (See the Rules section of the post for more information.)   *** #How Rankings are Tallied Rankings work on a point-based system. Here is the current breakdown. (A few adjustments have been made; note that upvotes will no longer count for points). - **Use of prompt/constraint:** 20 points (required) - **Use of bonus constraint:** 5 points (not required) - ***Actionable* Feedback on the thread:** 5 points each (up to 25 pts.) - **User nominations:** 10 points each (no cap) - **Bay’s nomination:** 40 pts for first, 30 pts for second, and 20 pts for third (plus regular nominations) - **Submitting nominations:** 5 points (total) **Note on feedback:** - Points will only be awarded for **actionable** feedback. So what is actionable feedback? It is feedback that is constructive, something that the author can use to improve. An actionable critique not only outlines the issue or weakness, but uses specific examples and explanations to describe why it may be doing, or not doing, what it should. Check out by u/FyeNite as an example.   *** #Rankings - - Submitted by u/katpoker666   - - Submitted by u/DmonRth   - - Submitted by u/gurgilewis   - - Submitted by u/merbaum   *** ###Subreddit News - Try your hand at serial writing with - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


The traitor stood over his broken father with victory within his grasp. There was no God Emperor to be worshiped, just a man. “I never wanted this. I never wanted to unleash my legions. Together we banished the ignorance of old night, but you betrayed me. You betrayed us all. You stole power from the gods and lied to your sons. Mankind has only one chance to prosper, if you will not seize it, then I wil-” and with a press of a button the tv switches off. “Alright, to bed with you.” I order my apprentice, Vanessa. “B-but what about the ending? Is the Emperor gonna die?! Did Horus just win?!?! How can I sleep knowing there’s a possibility of the Imperium falling to Chaos?!?!?!” Her questions grow frantic as she grows pale in the face, either from anxiety, or loss of breath from speaking so fast, and loud. “That’s just a tough shit you gotta take kid, cause if your eyes aren’t shut in the next thirty minutes, you’ll be guessing the ending for the next week.” The eyes to my mask dim from shriveling patience and she takes the hint, removing herself from a brown wool couch that suffers multiple tears and stains from lord knows what. My mundanely milk white walls suffer the same as the couch. Most of everything in this apartment suffers in some way shape or form. I hate this damned place-just the walls alone give me a feeling of great dissatisfaction. I feel trapped in this place. Trapped with a brat who I must leave a legacy to. The brat in question has just emerged from the cramped little bathroom that stays snug in the corner of the apartment. “Can you…eeeeuuuaaahhh…maybe tell me a story before I go to sleep?” She questions through a hefty yawn. I suppose it’s normal for children to enjoy stories. I was like that as a child-demanding my mother to tell me stories of heroes and their great battle against villains. Of course then I learned the difficult truth of good, and evil in society. There was barely a difference. “Fine.” I mutter. “Get to your room and get changed, I’ll be in to tell you something in a minute.” While I'm not too pleased with it, I find this option much more appealing than her losing sleep because she didn’t know the ending of a damn movie. The girl smiled from cheek to cheek, running to her room with breakneck speed, accidentally hitting the door to her room before she could open it. Dumb kid. With a swift motion, I pick up a pack of cigarettes and my lighter from the coffee table beside the couch. I'm gonna need these if I’m to make through for Vanessa’s storytime. I enter the girls room, seeing the kid already in prayer position, so I join my little disciple. My knees fall to the floor about a foot away from her, my hands follow in this action, laying palm up on the floor beside, my eyes shut, and with everything ready, we pray in unison. “All mighty King of Corpses, hear us. We tire of the long day and wish to find solace in an even longer night. Allow us rest, so that we may awaken strong to fight for you come daybreak. Grant us the bravery to endure the dark so that we may not fear the might. Give us a moment of peaceful mundanity tonight, so that we may prepare for the great wars of tomorrow. Allow us rest All Mighty King of Corpses. Cloak us in the quiet black and the warm red. By your name we pray. By your name we live. By your name we kill…Amen” The words barely escape our lips before Vanessa almost throws herself into her bed, covering herself with a large purple cotton blanket. As I rise from prayer, I remove the circular piece from my mask, leaving open a small hole that's usually used for smoking and pill popping more than eating or drinking. With Vanessa in bed and waiting, I sit on the chair that rests not five feet from her, lighting my cigarette, and taking a hefty drag as I do so. “Have I ever told you the history of our people, V?” I ask with wearily lit eyes, hoping I hadn’t recounted the tales of Grimald and his knights during one of my drugged up tirades. Bright eyed, and smiling, she nods with the typical enthusiasm of a child. Good. Out of all the war stories and monologues my own mentor ever gave, it was the origin of our people that I’d always crave to hear. It was unlike the stories of Greek or Norse myths and legends. There were no grandiose victories over the course of Grimalds crusade. No statues to be erected for the heroes of the Mortemus. No good ending with a some stupid ass moral lesson for children to learn from. This was a story that whole species could learn from. No good vanquishing evil to give the listener a feeling of ease when it’s all through. This was With the corpse of a smile on my face, and a cigarette loosely dangling from my mask, I begin. “Back in the 11th century-before we started calling ourselves the Mortemus, we were known as the Knights of Mortem- Knights of the Dead. When the Christian Churches Second Crusade was underway, the pope at the time had decided to invest in soldiers of a more superstitious nature. They had just won their first victory against the Muslim threat, so now they had wiggle room to worry of a more sinsister danger-working behind the scenes to topple their holy empire. I speak of course of demo-” “Demons really exist?!” She blaringly questions with wide eyes that looked around every dark corner her room had. “Don’t be a pussy kid. We’re only just starting and you’re about to shit your pantaloons.” I half heartedly joke, getting a giggle out of the girl. “Yes, demons exist, and I’m not talking about the demons that lay within humans. I talk of true demons, child. Demons that lay within the shadows of this world, waiting patiently to strike us down when the days of the God of Gore and his deliverance are upon us.” Vanessa raises the blanket up just past her nose, shaking from an extreme feeling of fear, but still staring at me, awaiting more. “Now, the church didn’t want too many valuable soldiers wasted on a witch hunt so they had decided to experiment with this new army of crusaders. It would be an Order of the least qualified of soldiers to be led by the most capable of warriors and leaders. The cardinals would call upon delinquent priests and failed holy men to act as soldiers- or at least dress them up as such. To lead this investigation army, the pope had appointed High Chaplain Daegal Grimald. His second in command would be Sergeant Garin Burchard- Two of the greatest knights in the First Crusades. The High Chaplain was more like a miniature giant than a man, over seven feet tall, built with enough muscle and power that he was said to wrestle with a bloodlusted bear for fun. Grimald wasn’t just dumb muscle though, he was articulate and stoic. Wise and cunning. A good man. His body was built for battle, but he learned to lead with a sharp, diplomatic mind if he could. That wasn’t to say he was shy about the ways of war-not at all. With strength comparable to that of Hercules of Greek myth combined with the tactical genius that even the best generals today would strive for, the mighty Chaplain and his crusaders would lay waste to their enemies in almost every battle they found themselves in. Grimald was often compared to the prophet Moses-always trying to solve conflicts peacefully, but if pushed too far, capable of bringing down none other than God's own wrath upon his enemies and those who would challenge his people. If Daegal was seen as a prophet in shining armor, Garin was seen as a demon bearing a cross. Burchard the Berserker, or Burchard the Butcher-depended on which side of the crusade was talking about him. He was infamously known throughout the holy war for his beastly rage. The way soldiers would tell it, he’d get the devil to possess him, and force the devil to fight for him. Guy was known for raiding villages and cities at night, and by time he, and his small force of raiders had left in the wee hours of morning, there were no lives left to be conquered, just a hollowed city, newly decorated with the flesh and blood of its previous inhabitants. Though he was effective in the battlefield, the church found Garin too feral to be allowed in the limelight of the war, so he was removed from the frontlines of battle, and forced to take a secondary leadership position in the experimental crusade. No more glory, no more battles to be had. There wasn’t even a real enemy to be working towards. The berserker was a fucking ghost hunter now, and he had never felt more humiliated. To the Chaplain who believed in the darker forces at work, this was the greatest of honors. He was chosen to lead a hunt most holy against the direct enemies of God. No longer would he suffer mere humans who would fight for a belief than him. Now, the real evil would suffer him. He would dub this new order of demon hunting crusaders the Knights of Mortem, and their mission, the Brimstone Crusades.” Before I can continue, the kid emerges from the covers a bit more, like a turtle growing brave. “Why would the church put these guys together, though? It doesn’t make much sense to me-making a wise and stoic leader work together with a hot head who doesn't even seem to belong in this crusade to begin with, all to lead a buncha investigators to find demons and monsters. It just doesn’t really make much sense, sir.” The only answer I can conjure for a quite reasonable question is “How the fuck should I know what a bunch’ve old wrinkly dicks were thinking way back when?” I probably asked my mentor questions like these all the time, trying to make sense of the plot holes and dilemmas that ultimately had the potential of muddling the story if one were to think too far into it. I’d always get the same answer that I offer my own disciple, though, trying to be a better teacher than my mentor was to me, I continue on, saying “There is no way of comprehending the logic back then, but it was due to the idocrity of said logic during this time that we have been rebirthed. I rebirthed from human to Thanatron, and you, human to Mechaness. While it’s little better than the answer provided before, my words result in a look of pride at the mention of our ranks. As Thanatron, I serve as my peoples Death Machine. Only the greatest of Mortemus warriors are allowed judgment by the King of Corpses, and if the King finds us worthy, then we take vows to seal away our face, ergo, our humanity, and lead our people, in both progress and battle. In combat, the Thanatron must bear the brunt of enemy forces, leading the conflict from the front rather than in some tent or conference room. Vanessa’s rank commands that she serve as my shadow, just as all Mechaness, and Mechanors have shadowed their Thanatron since the days of Grimald. Normally this honor would be given to the children of Thanatron, though since I lack a breeding partner, I grant my adopted child the honor of her rank. As Mechaness, she is my support, laying down cover fire, picking off the scraps that I’ve left in my wake, ensuring I’m not overwhe-honestly, she’s really around to make my life as convenient as possible-both in, and out of battle. In turn for this I am grooming her to take my place as Thanatron once the days of the God of Gore are upon us. Together we make two of three of our mighty race, the third being my mentor who now acts as our Witchetarum, a shaman that guides us in religion, and warfare. “For the first few months the Men of Mortem were fruitless in their endeavors.” I carry on with the story, afraid of getting sidetracked again in ranks and positions. “Their dark crusades often lead them to dead ends. While the High Chaplain stood vigilante and his will remained unwavered by his Order's lack of findings, the rest of his men-even his second in command, had already given up on any hope of finding anything. The failed holymen and priests were completely fine with this sort’ve work; relieved of their religious responsibility without having to fear damnation, traveling across both familiar, and foreign lands with no worries of war. It was paradise for them. Garin on the other hand was fuming. It was said that the Chaplain and his Sergeant often argued frequently for those first few months of inactivity. Daegal saw only a savage in his second in command. A man only fit to fight, and nothing else. There was no place in this crusade, or even the holy war for a beast like Garin On the other side though, Burchard felt disgusted with his commander. Here was a giant of a man forged for war, and he wanted to waste his time with diplomacy and politics. Even in the ridiculous demon crusade they took part in, the Sergeant was practically dumbfounded by Grimalds way of tracking cases, wasting too much time talking with locals and reading in his little Christian bestiary to determine what sort’ve “demon” they were chasing. Garin had no problems expressing in rather livid fashion how this was all some sick joke of the church, keeping them away from the Second Crusade, where they needed. He had found out the hard way that there was little to no respect given given to demon hunters in reality. Sure, they were worshiped by zealots and peasant, but were nothing but a jest to those who mattered. Even the other Orders of the Second Crusade were known to laugh and mock the Knights of Mortem, seeing the demon hunters as useless wannabes to be excluded from the brotherhood. Daegal saw it much differently. They were exactly where they needed to be, hunting the direct evils of the world as loyal hounds would hunt soon to be prey.” “Hounds?” Another interruption from my disciple halts my progress. Jesus christ, who knew telling a child a fucking bedtime story could be so difficult? “Yes. Hounds.” I respond coldly, my patience diminishing even further. “These men were simply dogs of the church. Their withered old masters would point, and they’d charge ahead, eager to claim whatever their masters so desired. Wealth, land, people- no matter what it was, any and all would pursue it without question, and for what? Not for bloodlust. Not for true power. Not for the pursuit of greatness and glory-No! It was for “salvation”. They followed their old masters commands to the letter in order to appease a god who wouldn’t even shoot a glance their way. Pathetic.” The red shine of my eyes begins to grow as a result of my anger. “Wouldn’t you do the same though?” Vanessa questions with ever so ignorant eyes. I do not respond, allowing her the opportunity to further explain herself, and she does. “If you never became Mortemus, and someone told you that you could either follow their command in exchange for unending bliss after you died, or you could go to a place full of pain and torture if you didn’t, you wouldn’t at least want to hear what they have to sa-” I don’t even let her finish before I begin pointing out the fallacies of her thinking. “No I wouldn’t. Any scumbag who offers salvation in exchange for servitude is nothing but a self righteous prick who’s better off getting the electric chair. Besides, none of that’s even real V. We find our salvation in slaughter. We worship one deity and he demands no shrines, no buildings, or statues, not even a symbol for the masses to look to. Our Corpse King only asks for the sacrifices of our enemies. He demands we stand steadfast against those who would do us harm. In a perfect world he would have us as artists rather than warriors, expressing ourselves in all the things we’ve slain.” I can see Vanessa getting excited again, her morbid interests taking control. “Mhm! The King will protect us from the God of Gore, a-and will help revive our dying people if we endure the End Times…” She preaches to me for a change, and I feel pride for being the one to teach her all of this in the first place. “Sir? Can you continue the story now?” My student asks with eager eyes. I oblige her. “So one day when the Order was trekking through thick woods on yet another chase for wild goose, they began to hear the collective screaming of men, women, and children from deeper in the woods, so deeper they went. For the first time in this entire crusade, all men knew fear. Ignorant fear of the unknown that they would forever cherish after they had reached the source of the screaming. What they saw would forever change them. The air had been filled with screams all morning, a collective of men, women and children. Horrendous screams that threatened the well being of any who had the misfortune of hearing it. Screaming that High Chaplain Daegal Grimald had known all too well at this point in his career. Abominations barely comprehensible, ripping fellow humans apart like a child would an insect. Tall, slender creatures, with skin that was either ashen or nearly pitch black, each tearing or crushing a human until nothing was left but bits and pieces, only to throw the remains into an already disturbingly large pile. The pile itself laid upon a vile circular symbol drawn in each of the victims' own blood. At what must have been the front of this symbol was one of their “priests.” A nude man with skin tattered, and torn. The pupils to his eyes had been cut out with nearly perfect surgical precision and the skin to his jaw had been completely ripped from his face. Demons…the Knights of Mortem had found demons. Most of the men could hardly handle it. Those who weren’t frozen in place ran as far as they could. Even Burchard the Berserker himself had felt fear that day. How could he not? This was well beyond any human's capacity for comprehension. But while his knights and Sergeant stood in fear or ran, Daegal Grimald stood firm…and he marched forward. A slow march, each step leaving a tremendous thud that could be heard by all as he walked on. He had no crisis from the scene that played out before his eyes, for he understood perfectly what was occurring. He felt no fear as marched for his foes, for there was only rage to be felt. He would suffer no evil, for evil would suffer him! His march shifted to an earth quaking charge, and he struck the wicked priest with a six foot long mace that was said to weigh over a hundred pounds. The way our people have always told it, upon impact, the entirety of the priests head had blown into pieces, splattering skull and brain across the tainted grounds. This beautiful display of violence was enough to shake Sergeant Burchard out of his little existential crisis. With two war axes in his hands and fear ever present in himself, the Berserker charged forward, hacking and slashing at the creatures with such speed that his plan of attack was inconceivable to the eyes of both human and demon. With their commanders plunged into the hellish skirmish, the remainder of the men who hadn’t ran away, ran forward, motivated by the bloodshed. A force of two hundred knights were put to the test of steel and flesh against a little over twenty demons, this would be a slaughter, and they knew it.” “So our people won the battle?!” She explodes from her blanket, sitting up in anticipation. This was always the best part of telling this story. No purely good endings to leave the listener with an equally purely good feeling. “Just barely, by time the demons had been put down, the Knights of Mortem had been reduced two soldiers. Two of the bravest. Two of the fiercest. Two of the luckiest. As for those they meant to save from vile clutches of the demons, only one survived. A woman who would go on to be our first Withitarum. With broken bones and ripped flesh, Daegal, and Garin survived the onslaught, but their Order was lost. How could they fight this evil when it took everything they had to kill less than a platoons worth of foe? The commanders would have to rebuild. Start from scratch. Those who know of this tale and are not Mortemus would tell you that the two men's minds had broken, but we know the truth. They had been granted clarity of vision, seeing with their own eyes what many had feared in the quiet of their homes. How long had this been going on? How many had been taken by this abominable threat? Who was leading it all? Questions that could only be answered through more bloodshed…much more bloodshed. With nothing left to do other than ponder everything, the three survivors of the massacre left the wicked woods for their church to report their findings. It was a quiet walk back. Neither men nor woman could even allow a sound to break from them, but they all knew there was no return. No normal to return to. We see this as a walk that would forge the future of the Mortemus. A slaughter of this magnitude would never happen to the Knights of Mortem ever again. They would come prepared next time. They would be wrath incarnate to the next batch of demons they found. They would hold no tolerance for the weak willed and meek minded. No feelings but hate for the heretic and the masses of corruption that infected the earth. Grimald would change the name of his crusade when he was back in the sanctum of his church. No longer would the Knights of Mortem endeavor in the Brimstone Crusades. The knights would now take part in the most significant and important scouring known to man. This would be the Oblivion Crusades. The End. There is only shock to be expressed through Vanessa, eyes wide and mouth agape. A smile resurrects beneath my mask before I reattach the mouth piece to my mask, finding I’d gone through half the pack of cigarettes throughout my telling of this story. I’m impressed with myself. Getting up from the chair I pat my apprentice on the head a few times, and shut her lamp off. “Try and get some sleep V.” I suggest, knowing there's quite a startling chance of her staying up all night in order to pick apart and dissect all that I have told her. I was the same way, so even if she does wake up with bags under her eyes tomorrow and yawns every ten minutes, I suppose I can deal with it. Just as I’m about to shut her door and leave, I am stopped in my tracks. “W-wait! I-is all of that really true?!” Vanessa looks at me as if my answer will determine the rest of her life. She’s anxious beyond reasoning for some reason. I pause for a second, letting tension build as I do so. “Yes…it’s all true.” and with that, I wish my disciple a goodnight, and shut the door behind me. As I sit back on that same tattered and torn couch from the start, guilt enters my mind. I lied to Vanessa. Not a complete lie, most of the story is indeed true, but it’s the ending that I twisted. There was more than one survivor from the sacrifice, and more knights endured the brutality than just Daegal and Garin. Yet only three left those woods alive. I know if I told Vanessa this true ending, she’d grow too suspicious to entrust her life to me, and I’ve no use for suspicious brats in my dying legion. I need a warrior who I can leave a legacy to once my time as the God of Gore is upon us. She will be Thanatron someday, and I only hope she’s grown to hate the human as I have. When I finally have the means to wipe the vermin race off of this earth, I hope she will understand why. That I won’t be doing it for some bloated god or deities, but for our people. So that we may replace the human and prosper where they have failed.


The dim lighting and the cold that's the first thing I remember as I woke from the cold sleep pod. Dragging myself up from the cold spongy bed. Looking down at me is a face, a face I don't know, I should know. "Welcome back to the world, why don't we warm you up" the face talks. Well that's what faces do I suppose. Sitting up takes great effort but changes how I see the room, the face has a body, a slim feminin figure wearing a tight one peice suit of some type of foamy material, it is a ocean green colour. It clings to the body attached to the face in a way my brain tells me should make me feel something, but I just feel cold. "Mr Wood ? Tell me what do you remember" the face attached to the body is talking again. Why is it talking, I should talk too,"Cold" I hear my own voice it sounds like I just ate a glass bottle. "Why don't you sit a bit and I'll get something to warm you up" the face says and the body turns and walks out. I try to follow but my body has other ideas. "Mr Wood how do you feel" I hear a feminin voice say. Opening my eyes I see the room has changed the woman's face or I should call her a girl is over me again." We should stop meeting like this, people will get ideas" She laughs it's a sweet musical sound,it's one of those laughs that reach all the way to her eyes and it's beautiful. "Well I can see you are feeling better, your vitals are all normal for a man your age why don't you try sleep and we can see how you do tomorrow" She reaches over and I hear a soft beep, it reminds me of the sounds in a hospital. I try to ask her what she ment by my age but the black closes in again. Tessa looks down and the sleeping man, he is bare but for a sheet covering him from the waste down. His arm and chest are well built but covered with the faint remains of old wounds. She wondered what he had done to get them all , she would ask him tomorrow. "Good morning Mr Wood, how are we feeling today" she asked he opened his eyes and sat up slowly,"much better thanks" he rasped. She could see the questions brewing behind those deep green eyes. "My name is Tessa you can call me Tess, let's get you up and about and we can talk as we walk okay?" She helped him get into a hospital gown and then the wheelchair. "Would you like me to just talk or do you have specific questions?" "What year is it and what happened?" He asked in a deep gravelly voice, Tess decided she liked that voice it was very unlike any of the other voices here. " It is 2550 the 1st of July Mr Wood you have been asleep in the cold pod for over 500 years, as to what happened that is a long and difficult story. Let's just say that the people of the old world had poor leaders that made worse decisions, there was a huge war just after you went to sleep and not much of the surface world survived." Tessa could tell by the way he sat in the chair that he was having difficulty with this information, she pushed him over to a window in the corridor. Outside the floodlights lit up the abyssal plain. "Our ancestors from your time were safe down here and forgotten by the world as the surface destroyed itself they worked to survive here, and over time managed to thrive. We have been living in safety down here for over 500 years but now things are changing." "So why did you wake me ?" He rasped "Well Mr Wood you see we have not had conflict or war or crime here for over 400 years to be honest we have forgotten, we left you and that South African gentleman to sleep because in the early years your skills were not needed and until now you have not been needed." The man in the wheelchair began to laugh, a deep booming laugh, Tessa looked at him, confused.


“Father! Father! Come upstairs!” “I’m not falling for another one of your little jokes, Lila!” “It isn’t a joke! Come upstairs now!” The middle-aged man reluctantly dragged himself up the stairs expecting to see a trail of painful, knifelike legoes on the stairs. He carefully went with uncanny precision, wondering when he’d meet the plastic toy that would jab him first. Instead, he found his precious daughters, the lights of his life, staring out their window with pink frilly curtains. “Look! There’s a family of puppies in our backyard!” Yelled Lila. “Oh, those aren’t puppies, they’re foxes.” At this point the father, whose name is James, and Rina, Lila’s younger sister, were laughing hysterically. Lila crossed her arms and snapped, “foxes are part of the dog family anyways!” At this point Rina and James were on the floor. They always laughed at how adorable Lila was when she crossed her arms in an attempt to look intimidating. A few minutes later, Rina and Lila raced down the stairs to see the foxes up close. Meanwhile, James decided to bring out the barbecue in the closet to make some hot dogs. “Girls come get dinner! I made hotdogs!” “Can I give the foxes some? Pretty please?” Begged little Lila with puppy dog eyes. Without even waiting for James’ response, which would have been something annoying and along the lines of “what’s with the puppy eyes? Did your dog-foxes teach you,” Lila grabbed two hotdogs and threw them at the foxes. The foxes viciously tore into the flesh of the meat like lions. “Look! They’re so adorable,” exclaimed Rina. “You call THAT adorable?!” James and Lila were staring at Rina like she was insane. That’s when they heard a loud shattering sound that Lila thought even the other side of the Earth could hear. They saw a pitch black line in the sky that looked like a cracked snow globe. “What is that!? Father, I'm scared!” Lila cried. She clung onto James as hard as she could. “I don’t know sweetheart. I don't know…” The foxes were gone, and it became dreadfully silent. That’s when a random shard fell from the sky. Rina ran and picked it up. The shard was glowing softly a white as pure as untouched snow, and was cold to the touch. More shards started to lightly fall from the sky, making small thumps and cracks as they touched the ground. The family was speechless. They felt confused, anxious, shocked, amazed, and utterly terrified at the same time. They stared in frozen shock as more shards fell from the shattered, crystal sky. That’s when suddenly an odd ash fell on Rina. It ran through her hair, hands, and fingers like warm sand. Rina stood still for several seconds, pondering and trying to organize her overloaded train of thought. Her brain was as twisted and turbulent as a tight knot on a shoelace. She was then interrupted by a shard that crashed with her head. “Rina! Are you ok?” Lila screamed. “Yeah… I’m fine.” Inexplicably, Rina barely even felt the shard when it collided with her head. She almost didn’t notice it. That’s when the family heard an odd sound in the direction of the forest. It sounded like a porcelain teacup being placed on a table. They ran in its direction and saw a girl. She also glowed like the shards, and glittered bright ethereal hues of bright blue and silver around her. The porcelain cup sound was coming from her footsteps. The girl was picking up the shards one by one. “Hey, you! Do you want help?” Asked Rina. The girl did not answer. She just smiled at Rina and continued picking up the shards. “What is your name?” Asked Lila. A light, mechanical sound came from the girl’s mouth. She slowly sounded out “Esther.” “Hey Esther, where is your family?” Asked James. Esther stared at him confused. She then softly answered, “in my hands.


TW: death and suicide near the end, though they aren't a focus of the story Lee spent all afternoon every day charting the woods behind her school. She practically had a map of the entire twelve square miles in her head at all times, and when she wasn’t physically there, she was mentally retracing her steps. So you can understand why she was surprised by the sudden appearance of a large pond in the woods. She went over the area at least a dozen times before fully committing to the idea that this pond was not there yesterday. Where did it come from? Either way, its clean, transparent water was very alluring. She would’ve already jumped in, had it not been for the fact that she couldn’t see the bottom. A pond of this size and transparency should not be that deep, yet it was. It’s not like it got deeper towards the center, either. No; it became infinitely deep all the way up to its borders. Lee grabbed a rock and tossed it as close to the center as she could. She watched pockets of air slip away from its underside as it sank. It became darker and darker until, finally, it was gone. Then, more bubbles rose from the same spot. And more, and more, until finally, a stream of water was shooting from the pond like a fountain. Lee stared, unsure whether to be frightened or intrigued. The glistening beads of water began to change color. It was slow at first; hints of deep blues transitioning into soft greens and turquoise. Then purples, and pinks, and eventually a glittering golden stream was on full display right before her. It beckoned to Lee. There was no more school, no more home, no more woods around her. It was just her, and the fountain. She stepped forward onto the surface of the water. She didn’t sink, though that did not concern her. Her footsteps sent rhythmic ripples to the edges of her now small world. She reached toward the stream and let the golden beads pass between her fingers. Lee felt herself become heavier, and the once impenetrable surface began to give way. Blinking quickly in an attempt to wake herself from this dream-like state, she realized where exactly she was. Though, it was too late. As if she had suddenly been attached to an anchor, she sank deep and quick. What felt like several soft blades of grass tickled Lee awake. She thrashed around, scaring away what were actually hundreds of jelly bean sized creatures. Their tiny feet plopped along the ground as they scurried frantically. Her laughter attracted the attention of a large, bug-eyed fellow. His body was made up of colorful, round segments. She couldn’t imagine how he kept himself from falling apart. Still, despite his alien appearance, he did not give off an ounce of ill-intent. Lee was more curious than scared. “Oi’ las, what’re ya doing so close to da water? There’s no swimming ‘ere.” She looked around, realizing that the pond was the only thing that looked at all familiar. She was no longer in the middle of the woods, but rather some kind of industrial zone. Pink plumes of smoke rose from the top of giant spiraling structures. Everything looked as if it were made out of candy; much too bright for her taste. “Olright girl,” the creature seemed annoyed now, “if yer stayin silent, at least come back to the post wit meh.” A small, wooden shack stuck out of the ground just a few meters behind him. His segments began to topple over each other as they moved toward the shack. Somehow, his head glided along them, so as to always stay on top. It was pretty enjoyable to watch, Lee thought. She brushed the dirt and any bugs that remained off of her vest. “What’s your name?” “Ah, she does speak. I’m Mush, and wer goin tah meet One. You?” “Lee.” She smiled at Mush. The shack was only about a quarter the size of the pond, and barely taller than Mush, yet it was massive on the inside. Pulleys were dragging other odd-shaped beings between several stories, and each story had a team of workers; the clacking of old mechanical keyboards echoed from every direction. Mush stopped by one of the dozens of desks, leaving Lee to awkwardly stand behind him. “Yo, one-thousand-four-hundred-eighty-seven. You know wer boss man’s at?” His metallic arms stopped flailing on the keyboard. “Yea.” He peered over his glassless glasses to glance at Lee. She shivered. “Floor forty-seven,” he sighed, before continuing his sporadic flailing. “Uh, thanks,” he leaned over to Lee, “Odd fellow, that one-thousand-four-hundred-eighty-seven is.” Lee struggled to squeeze into the lift beside Mush. It didn’t help that its thin frame was loosely dangling above the ground. “So, is everyone here named after a number besides you?” She asked. “Pretty much. Oim a hired contracta, s’posed to pick up da trash and what-not ‘round teh post. Guess that makes you da trash. Or maybe teh what-not.” Lee took it as a joke, though Mush’s expression left it a mystery. “Anyweh,” he looked up and yelled, “Eighteenth!” A strange beast on the very top level nodded at the pair. As his nodding shook the lift, Lee realized that the rope holding the lift was inside of its mouth. It began slurping the rope, slowly at first, but it soon picked up the pace. By the time the lift had reached the forty-seventh floor, Lee was on the ground holding back her lunch; Mush was fine. “Right tis weh, little one.” There were no other desks on this floor. Instead, the beings here were all wearing what appeared to be hardhats. They all mumbled variations of “oh,” “uh huh,” and, “wow,” while staring at a specific wall on the other side of the room. “Oiii, One. Look what I found!” A strange tube with a pointed head slithered over to mush. When it reached them, the head popped open like a dandelion in bloom, revealing a face within. Its grin was unbearable. “Ahh, Mush. You’ve brought me a human! Thanks so much!” it hissed. “Ahh, so tis is wut dey look like. Didn’chu say you already have one? Why don’t we just throw ‘er back in da pond, save teh trouble?” Mush rolled just slightly between Lee and One. It was clear to Lee that he wanted to protect her, though her trust in this world was beginning to diminish. For a second, One’s grin flashed with malice. He quickly composed himself. “Well, yes, Mush. BUT, these humans are exotic creatures. You see, from what I’ve read, it takes two to make more of them. Besides, this one seems much more… aware than mine. It might actually be able to hold a conversation.” The tube extruding behind One’s head writhed and popped, revealing six nimble legs. “Anyway, I’ll be taking her.” Mush inched even further between the two. “‘Scuse me sir, but tis isn’t trash, n since I found ‘er, I-” One grabbed his round head and lifted his heavy body into the air. Squeezing, he popped Mush’s head like a balloon, sending his other segments rolling across the floor in random directions. Lee didn’t have time to scream before her body instinctually bolted toward the lift, narrowly dodging One’s grip. “First!” She yelled at the lift beast. The lift began to drop, but it only made it a few floors before One grabbed the rope. With nowhere else to go, Lee jumped onto the nearest floor and sprinted to the back door. Instead of being greeted by the pond, she was hundreds of feet above the ground. It was one of the structures she noticed earlier. With nowhere else to go, and One fast approaching, she jumped. Her body made a hard thud. “Shame,” One poked his head through the door. “Well, there are others,” he sighed, “I have to find a new trash collector now too.


The stranger, the man with eyes far older than he, stepped out of the caravan. He stared down the group of soldiers they had sent for us. As if one man could stand against Imperium soldiers. If we had double their numbers it wouldn’t make any difference, yet he stood there as if understanding something we don’t. My people hid behind our wagons, watching, not fully understanding the stranger, or his intentions. I was hiding in the mud underneath the same caravan the stranger had just stepped from. I was close enough that I could see him trembling, apparently, whatever he planned on doing, he was just as terrified as the rest of us. I don’t blame him. The Imperium were infamous for their cruelty. They’d been known to kill men for far less than his current actions. Yet, when the stranger spoke, his voice was a contradiction to his trembling body, and it came out resounding and sure. “You tyrants need to leave now. Tell your lord you were not able to find what you were seeking” A tall, ugly solider with a cruel face spoke in a demeaning tone. “Well well, look here boys! it seems we have ourselves a hero. Try to use *creativity* when you kill this one. Hero’s love the idea of dying as a martyr.” That same soldier glanced down and noticed me watching from underneath the wagon. “Hello little girl…” He almost whispered, with an evil grin. “It appears our hero here has a couple rats he is trying to protect! How noble of him! Look closely boys, you can see one of the smaller rats hiding in the mud, just under that wagon.” He stepped closer to me, bending slightly to get a closer look. “I guess our little hero here doesn’t know the dangers vermin like these can pose! Rats, like the one under your wagon can carry nasty diseases. Just killing them doesn’t quite do the trick though. You see that just allows their corpse to rot, spreading more filth and disease. No, the trick is you need to use fire!” With that the soldier pointed at me, then, suddenly, a thin line of bright flame shot from his finger tips directly at me. I attempted to move out of the way but the flame hit me on the hip and immediately caught my clothes on fire. I screamed as the burns lanced my torso. Frantically, I patted the burns with my bare hands causing burns to my palms as well. Eventually the flames stopped and I laid there and wept from the terror and pain of what had just happened. As I composed myself I looked back up at the Soldiers to find that they were *laughing* at what had just transpired. I glanced up at the stranger and found him staring at me, and for the first time I could see his eyes. The strangers trembling had become more intense now and suddenly I realized, from the fury within his eyes, he had never been trembling from fear ..but from rage.


#Welcome to Roundtable Thursday! Writing is so much fun, but it can also be very challenging. Luckily, there are so many other writers out there going through the exact same things! We all have unique skills and areas in which we excel, as well as places we’d like to improve. So I’d like to present a brand new weekly feature. This will be a weekly thread to discuss all things ! And… to get to know your fellow writers a bit! Each week we will provide a topic and/or a few questions to spark discussion. Feel free to chime into the discussion in the comments, talk about your experiences, ask related questions, etc. You do not have to answer all the questions, but try to stay on-topic! *** #This Week’s Roundtable Discussion There is no greater inspiration for fiction than life itself. It’s crazy and messy and often unpredictable. Whether you’re in the local coffeehouse, backpacking around the world, or playing board games in your living room on family night, ideas are everywhere. So I’m wondering.. - **How much do you pull from your own life when writing? Do you use events you’ve been through, or add traits of your own to your characters?** - **Have you ever based a character on a real person?** - **If not, where do you turn for inspiration/ideas?** - New to r/ShortStories or joining in the Discussion for the first time? **Introduce yourself in the comments!** What do you like to write? *** #Reminders - **Use the comments below to answer the questions and reply to others’ comments.** - **Please be civil in all your responses and discussion.** There are writers of all levels and skills here and we’re all in different places of our writing journey. Uncivil comments/discussion in any form will not be tolerated. - **Please try to stay on-topic.