Sunset Have you ever stared at the sky right before the sun began to set? Not in the direction that exists only as a distraction, pulling attention to its flaming brilliance, no, to the East. Where the colors change slowly and with intent. Where the blue in the sky gradually turns to pink, to purple, then black. Where the colors intersect in bands, pulling on each other in a calm yet fiery battle until both shrink away in defeat to the moon and stars. Well if you did you would notice something. Something only a few are chosen to see. How the blue and pink sky combine at the horizon line. How their shifting frequency morphs into a summit. Peaks dotting the eastern horizon as the sky quickly darkens. A magnificent mountain range that twinkles into the moonlight as quickly as it rose. Well, I observe this every night. And as I do I imagine myself, taller and stronger, scaling that range. Climbing further and further into the sky until I can’t see what I left behind. Holding the shimmering and cloudy snow in my hands as everything, including myself, fades into the night sky. Such a concept remains a fantasy. Something you can imagine yourself doing, but only with a resigned mind, not ever believing it could happen. I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. That when I imagine myself in the clouds it’s not just make believe. I’m really there. I don’t know how to describe it, if it’s another time, another life, or even another field of existence but she’s not only in my mind. She’s there, on the mountains in the clouds. Sunrise Light. All I perceive is light as I slowly regain consciousness. The fog in my mind dissipates as I become aware of the gentle hum of the fan near my bed, the birds softly chirping outside, and the sound of water running somewhere in the house. It’s bright. I blink my eyes open and come face to face with the painful sphere outside my window. I let out a groan, shutting my eyes in agony, and roll to lay on my other side. After waking up for a bit, I swing my legs out from under me to the floor. I stretch my arms above my head and give a glance behind me, the sun still blazing into my room, and grudgingly get up. I wouldn’t be up at this hour if it wasn’t for my roommate. She’s been begging me to take a trip with her forever and I finally gave in to one. I had to be up at the break of dawn according to her, however according to my own health and well-being I convinced her to settle for a slightly delayed “break of dawn”. She has to be getting antsy in the kitchen though, I can hear water running and frantic scrubbing which must be from her breakfast. I pick out an outfit, nothing too fancy, just running shorts and a shirt, and swing my already packed duffle bag onto my shoulder. She made sure I packed according to her meticulously thought out list. If your roommate ever tries to specify how much underwear you should pack, run. Something that was too late for me at this point I think with a smile as I grab a pair of socks, turn off my fan, and head outside into the small common area we share. Her auburn hair bobs as she works in the sink, the curls grazing the tops of her shoulders. When she hears me she turns around with a wide smile that reaches all the way up to her eyes. “Carrie! I see you’re finally up, give me a hand?” She holds the frayed light blue towel in her hand, an invitation to help dry. “Good morning to you too.” I smile back as I snatch the towel from her and hold my hand out for a wet dish. We clean in silence for a bit, the sounds of the water pouring from the faucet and smacking the metal basin only interrupted by the squeak of wet cloth on porcelain. Standing on my toes I gingerly set the last plate on the stack and come back down to earth to see my roommate gleaming at me, anticipation in her eyes. “Thanks so much,” She turns and starts fiddling with a small bag on the counter. “I wanted to have something nice as we don’t always get to do this. I might’ve underestimated how many dishes I would go through in making it though.” At this closing sentence she again smiles and turns back to me, I can now smell the apples, fried crust, and other comforting odors as she picks up the bag and zips it shut. She didn’t mention this at all last night, I can’t imagine how early she must’ve had to wake up to get everything ready. She’s practically bouncing, obviously excited to see what I thought. “It smells delicious, Lilac, thank you.” I give her a gentle shove on the shoulder, making her laugh, “You should’ve woken me up to help.” She rights herself after the slight push and merely shrugs my concern off with a grin. “I know you would have rather stayed here anyway, I wanted to do this to thank you for going on the trip with me.” She pauses at this and blushes, glancing to the side. “And to be honest I really was craving pie.” I laugh and she begins to as well. I tell her I’ll be right back as I head into our shared bathroom and prepare for the trip. I run a comb through my hair and tie it up in a ponytail. I brush my teeth and then throw all my toiletries into a small bag which I deposit in my duffel when I return to the kitchen. Lilac is tying her running shoes at the door, dressed in a similar exercise outfit as me. As I approach I can hear her humming. I smile to myself. “Took you long enough to get ready.” I playfully chide as I let myself drop next to her, pulling my shoes from the door to me. I start to slide my feet in. “Says the one who woke up two hours after our initial departure time.” “Not my fault my body won’t let me goad it into waking up at unnatural hours, unlike yours.” “Ha ha.” Lilac mocks as she moves her head side to side with each “ha”. She ties her last knot and bounces up off the ground. In one clean motion she sweeps up both her duffel and the food bag and looks back down at me with another large grin. “Carolyn and Lilac on their next adventure.” She sweeps her hand out in front of her, now looking past me as I stifle a laugh. “Next stop, the moon.” With this her smile grows wider and with a 180 spin she unlocks the door. I believe she’s only half joking. “Meet you in the car!” A bang and bouncing footsteps follow as I smile and focus again on my shoes. After I finish I head out the door as well, making sure to lock it behind me. Lilac is already in the car, a small yellow buggy, parked parallel on the quiet street in front of our one story home. As I approach the car I see her tap the wheel in rhythm, and I can only guess she is still humming. The car ride followed similar antics. I’ve known Lilac since we were randomly paired as roommates freshman year, and ever since then she’s been a travel size sun. Spreading warmth everywhere she went, which was often on my heels whether I liked it or not. “So where do you think we’re going?” I’m snapped out of my daze with the expectant gaze of the girl next to me. She looks back at the road. “Well you made me pack multiple pairs of clothes, more than what we should need, so I’m guessing somewhere we could get dirty.” “Ding ding ding!” She pats the steering wheel with each word. “Anything else?” I see her holding back a grin, she really wants me to guess since she must be dying to tell me. I grin to myself, she’s the one who wanted it to be a surprise. “I can only guess, a hike? You’ve been super into fitness all of a sudden and have made me join you on your runs and whatnot. I’m guessing you’ve been trying to train me somehow. The only part I’m lost on is the fact we don’t have tents or really any outdoor gear.” I can tell by her sudden smile I must’ve been right. She glances in my direction then back at the road. “The hike we are doing won’t need any of that stuff.” Her smile fades at this and her eyes seem lost in thought. This isn’t unnatural for her, with her periods of blazing brightness she can just as easily retreat back into herself, I can only imagine thinking grand things. “Well whatever it is I can’t lie, I’m actually excited.” This prods her awake and her eyes widen at the road. “I mean I know you had to convince me but I think this will be good. You know, like what we used to do.” She nods and smiles, this time a small honest one. “That’s what I thought, I’m glad you think so too.” Her smile fades. Her eyes seem ages away. “It was time for another one I think.” I turn away from her back to the road. It’s laid out in front of us, the forest flanking on either side. We sit now in silence as Lilac begins to hum, this time a more solemn melody. Day The monotony of the straight road is suddenly broken as Lilac flicks on her turn signal. The soft clicks fade in and out, piercing the comfortable silence. “Almost there?” I look over at Lilac, her eyes shining in anticipation at the road. “Good guess, yeah almost.” The car slows and Lilac turns right onto a smaller road still lined with trees. Their branches overhang, letting the light catch them, scattering green across our path. I feel cozily enclosed by the brush and through the open windows I can hear it rustling in response. “It’s pretty back here.” I mention as I stare up at the sky, the brilliant blue flickering between the leaves. “Isn’t it? It gets better.” I immediately see what she means as we approach a small town, appearing in front of us as we climb up a small hill. I can see small cobblestone streets lined with quaint homes, and people milling about the main street, stopping at stalls and store front windows. “I wouldn’t have even known this was here, they’re perfectly situated.” I exclaim, gaping out the window. “Yeah, just look to your left.” And then I saw it. The forest surrounded us as we headed toward the town but opened up considerably when we entered. Hilly terrain replaced the trees, and straight out in front of us I could see small mountains rising in the distance. Looking to the left as Lily prodded I could see a glimmering sea of blue. The town was on the edge of cliffs that gracefully sloped into the waving ocean. “Don’t know if I’ve ever seen a town this beautiful.” Lilac grins at me and then back at the road as we finally enter the main street. We drive for a bit, past everyone enjoying the cool day before slowly stopping at the side of the road. I turn my head to see a hanging sign with the word “INN” carved into the wood. It’s another smaller building, only two stories, with a sloping grey roof and a brown cobble exterior. The door is a light brown wood with intricate metal work garnishing its surface, its handle a long ribbon of metal. “I thought we could drop our stuff here. Unless you want to carry it all on the climb.” I expected this to be sarcasm but when I looked over at Lilac I saw no trace of humor in her face. “No, no I think I’ll leave it.” “Alright then!” With a bit of a tone shift, Lilac quickly turns the key and the rumbling of the car stops. She slides it out and pops open her door. Grabbing her stuff out of the back seat she steps in front of the car and beckons at me through the window. I follow suit and when I turn around with bags in hand she’s already at the door, having a cheerful conversation with an older woman. The woman steps back into the home and holds the door open. My friend nods at her with a smile and continues inside. I stop at the bottom of the few steps leading straight up to the door. The woman looks at me and smiles but doesn’t beckon me inside. I tighten my grip on my bags and bound up the steps crossing into the home, smiling and thanking the woman. She closes the door behind us and waltzes to the low counter in the back of the small room we are standing in. Behind the counter are many small shelves and to the left of the counter I see an entrance into what looks like a dining room. A grand spiral staircase is to our right, made with intricate patterns of wrought iron, and somewhere above light filters through and bounces down its curves. “Here for a room dear?” My attention returns to the woman. Lilac looks back at me and patiently smiles. “Oh yes we are, if any are available,” I tell the innkeeper. “Of course sweetheart, you’re always welcome.” She turns around and picks up a large ornate bronze key off a hook and hands it to Lilac. “Third floor, room facing the ocean. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.” I smile again and follow Lilac up the stairs. Each step reverberates with a thud throughout the staircase. We finally arrive at the room and as the woman said, the ocean is clearly visible from the slightly ajar window. I can see the waves padding the beach from here. “Aww man, it’s so nice up here!” Lilac exhales loudly and plops back first onto the bed nearest the window, letting her bags hit the carpeted floor. There is another twin bed next to hers with a little table between them. They are the only furniture in the room barring a floor lamp in the opposite corner, emitting a golden glow. I join Lilac by sitting on the edge of my own bed. “Yeah I honestly wasn't expecting any of this at all. How did you hear about this place?” Lilac flips to the side facing me and rests her head on her palm, propping herself up by her elbow. “I heard about it from our neighbors, I’ve never been here myself. But I knew from how it was described it would be amazing.” “No kidding. It’s basically a paradise.” I let out a soft laugh. “This isn’t all, the rest doesn’t begin for a bit later though.” She closes her eyes again, still facing me. I linger on her use of the word begin but decide to move on. “So we aren’t going to hike right now?” Her eyes open slightly to respond, the exhaustion evident in them. “Not right now, we have time to rest.” At that she returns to her back, stretching her arms and legs out from her body like a snow angel. I don’t waste time in deciding to rest as well, especially if we will be hiking later. I can feel a breeze through the open window and hear the faint wash of water on sand intermingled with chatter and laughs from the street below. I let myself drift to sleep. Evening “Hey Lilac, it’s about time.” I feel the gentle brush of her fingertips against my shoulder as I come to. I open my eyes to see her eyes above me, a small smile already playing on her lips. “Quite a wake up call huh,” I groan as I gently push her arm away. She laughs. “Very funny, come on, get up.” I glance over to the window to see the sky a bit darker than when we had left it. It’s blue, just not as bright. I rise from the bed, still wearing my clothes and shoes, and join Lilac near the door. “Do I need to take anything?” She is bent over the small food bag, seemingly taking count of the items there as she answers me. “Only if you want to, but you don’t need anything. I’m just carrying the food.” I glance over at my bag and shrug. I don’t think extra pairs of underwear would come in handy anyway. “Alright! I think we are all ready.” Lilac swings the bag onto her shoulder and looks at me. “Yeah I’m all good. Let’s get going then.” “Great, just follow me, we are going to be heading over to the ocean.” I smile at this. Those cliffs were too pretty to ignore. I had been hoping we were going somewhere near there. I follow Lilac out the door, down the stairs, past the woman at the counter who waves and wishes us a good evening, and then outside. The air is considerably cooler but still a bit humid. Almost like being wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold night. Our feet hit the cobble in tune, not speaking only due to our observance of our surroundings. People are still out and about, I can see in the distance children playing in the trees, couples picnicking in the hills past the town, families down at the beach under the cliffs. We continued our stroll through the town and turned to head toward the water. The cliffs were magnificent, grassy and flowery with a fantastic view of the ocean below. Small sailboats glided across the water in the distance as I stared at the glossy surface. Lilac’s finger breaks my view. “We are going right up there.” She’s pointing past my face at the highest cliff, the base on level with us before it begins to climb upwards, stopping after about thirty feet, its edge resting right above the water. We reach the cliff and climb up near the edge, stopping a safe distance away, neither of us are fans of heights. Lilac swings the bag onto the ground and pulls out a soft blue blanket. She lays it on the ground before sitting down, gesturing to the space in front of her. I move around the blanket and sit too, just as she starts pulling multiple goods from her pack. She made my favorites and hers from college. Chicken and dumplings in a glass platter, potato salad and corn chowder in ornate little bowls with plastic covering the top, and finally a golden apple pie. She also pulls out two plates and silverware. “Oh Lilac, it's amazing! Thank you so much. I can’t remember the last time I had these.” She grins in response. “Me neither! That’s why I wanted to treat us. Dig in!” I needed no extra cues as I took my plate from Lilac and started placing servings on it. We sat, talked, and ate with the chorus of waves as the background. When we finished Lilac neatly gathered everything and placed it back in the box. I got up and she then folded the blanket and put that back as well. At this point the families had packed up from the beach and everyone was heading back to the town. I could still see lights on and people roaming about but it was quiet where we were. The sun had slid further down on the horizon and started to turn the sky orange. Lilac was standing on the edge of the cliff. I walk up to her side, she’s smiling with an all familiar glint in her eyes. “Remember when we first met Carrie?” At this she smiles in my direction. I exhale sharply and look out at the sea now. “Of course I do, how could I forget. I come in and you’re on your bed seemingly contemplating something awful. When you saw me you bounded up to me and immediately asked what I thought about the color of the walls. After that you regained composure and introduced yourself. I knew from that moment you would either always annoy me to no end or be the most interesting person I had ever met. I believe it turned out to be a mix in the end.” Lilac lets out another soft laugh and smiles at the ground. “I remember meeting you too. I abhorred those walls and wanted to know if you agreed. The surprise on your face instead took me back to reality. I’ve always appreciated your ability to do that.” I look over at her and she takes my hand in hers. “I’m glad I met you Carolyn.” I lean my head on her shoulder and look back out at the sea. “I’m glad I met you Lilac.” We stay like that as the sun further retreats behind us. The sky opens up in a multitude of colors. My eyes widen as the pink splotches darken, leaving ribbons of blue parading throughout the sky. Lilac releases a quiet exhale, she must’ve been holding her breath. There is a bottom band of royal blue on the horizon, directly above the ocean. From here it looks like mountains, its peaks dissolving into the pink that shrinks and grows as the sun shimmers on the opposite horizon. “Can you see it?” I somehow know she’s talking about the mountains so I nod in response. I lift my head and Lilac pulls her hand back. “Want to go back to the field? I don’t love being on the edge of a cliff so close to the water.” Lilac sheepishly looks down with this but I nod in agreement. “No, I feel the same way, especially as it’s getting dark.” We walk back toward the town, to more level ground. Lilac suddenly stops and turns back around. “Now we can hike.” This surprised me. I knew that Lilac wanted to hike but I thought maybe she just meant that short distance to the cliff. But now she looked up expectedly toward the sky so I turned and joined her. I can’t really explain what I saw next. From the sky down to our feet fell a glittering mountain. What I saw on the horizon suddenly seemed to connect right to the solid ground in front of us. Lilac turns toward me again. “This is it.” I look upwards. It stretches far into the sky, its peak only created by the pink surrounding it. I reach out my hand. I brush its surface. It feels like snow but it isn’t cold. I can easily grip it in my palm. I open my hand and the flakes sprinkle out. I look up again. “You mean, up there?” Lilac nods. “But it’s your decision.” I take turns looking at Lilac and looking at the mountain. I laugh. “You mean you drove me here to decide if I wanted to climb or not?” When I looked at Lilac there was no laughter in her eyes. “Yes.” I look again at the mountain. It’s shimmering peak is inviting. The colors spread across its surface like a watercolor painting. It’s not too steep and could easily be walked up. The only issue is the distance. “What do you want to do?” I glance at Lilac. At this she frowns. “I don’t know.” But I can see from her eyes she’s lying. To say they were longing would be an overstatement. It was more a look of belonging as she stared up at the summit. Not an urge to go up, yet still a gentle desire. She’s dependent on my answer. “If you don’t want to, we can go back to the inn, that’s why I had you pack everything, and then we can hike on the other mountains here. But if you want to…” She trails off. I join her in looking up again. The sun continues its descent and the mountain shimmers more and more. I believe my eyes would portray what Lilac’s did. When I look at the mountain I don’t feel it as a looming presence, more of an inviting one. I feel a patient pull from its peak. One that wouldn’t haunt me if I decided to walk away right now, but would welcome me if I did decide to make the ascent. I knew what my decision would be when I first set eyes on that sunset. “I want to go up,” I decide. Lilac smiles at me and wraps her arms around me. “Why haven’t you come here before?” I squeeze her tighter and feel her chest move against mine as she laughs gently. “I don’t know, I felt like you needed me to get here.” “You’re right. Thanks for waiting.” At this we pull apart. I start to walk up the shining surface laid out at my feet, I can still see the grass through it. Lilac follows me but soon overtakes me as we come up to the first peak, about twenty feet up from the ground. She scales it then turns and reaches her hand down for me. I grasp it. Night The sun left us long ago as we continued up the summit. All we can see now is the shimmering snow in the light from the rising moon and stars. We are very close to the highest peak at this point. Lilac is still in front of me. She makes it up there first and disappears from my view. I see her hand pop back into vision, so I take it in mine as she pulls me up. I feel solid ground beneath my feet and see nothing but darkness. Not an unfamiliar and frightening dark, more like closing your eyes at a party. Obviously you cannot see anything but you know you are surrounded by light, by everyone you love, and are safe. That’s what this darkness felt like as I stood there in silence. Then I felt warmth. Light. And I could hear someone humming nearby.


After another hour or so of trekking through the forest, we arrived at a clearing. For a brief moment, the dense foliage of trunks and vines gave way to compact brown dirt. And there, at the far side, there was a group of some twenty or so men, women and children - the rest of our captors’ group. “They back,” one small child screamed as he ran up to one of our captors, wrapping his arms around a leg the width of his body. The man leading the group turned to us. “You. That tree over there.” He pointed to a short, stout oak tree with the tip of the spear. “Go there. You try run. You die.” We obeyed the command and sat by the designated trunk. “You think spirits are hunting these people?” I asked. Alessia just tilted her head towards me, her eyes rolled upwards. I chuckled. “So how do we get out of this?” “Not sure. No weapons. No idea where we are.” “We need to know more. About this place? About where they’re taking us?” The man who led us here was sitting down with a few of the adults who had stayed at the clearing. They leaned in, listening closely to quiet words with their eyes glanced downwards. While elsewhere the returnees were running around with children or sharing jokes, that small group of three remained solemn. Alessia followed my gaze. “We can’t ask them. They believe any knowledge we share corrupts them. They’ll kill us if we try it again.” I thought on Alessia’s words for a second. “We can’t share knowledge *with them*…” I trailed off, pushing myself to my feet. “Where are you going?” Alessia said, placing her hands by her side, ready to follow. I held up my arm to stop her. “I’m going to ask some questions. But, stay here. They’ll be less jumpy with one of us.” Alessia relaxed against the trunk once more. “Just. Please Ferdinand.” She paused, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Please don’t do anything stupid. Be safe.” “I will,” I smiled. I walked towards the small huddle. As I approached I began to overhear their conversation. “Cold claimed three. At least winter stopped. But vargs took child last week. If we don’t have children soon…” The woman speaking stopped as she saw me approach. The leader turned to face me, but he remained sitting. “What?” “I wanted to ask you some questions-” “Each time you speak, and share knowledge, you make death on all of us.” He gave a dismissive wave of his arm. “The rules state that you must not be corrupted from nature. But that only happens if I share knowledge. You can share nature with me. Tell me. I will only ask questions. No sentences, no opinions, no facts, just questions. No corruption.” “Why I accept?” “It costs you nothing to tell me. And this way, you control what I say. In return, I stay quiet. Make sure not to say anything that corrupts you from here on out.” The man pondered my offer for a second, exchanging a quick glance with the others. “Come closer,” he said to me. I took a couple of paces forward. “No. Closer.” I obliged, closing the gap between us, so that I was only a metre or so away from him. The man raised a hand to let me know I could stop. The man quickly reached for his spear, and with one quick movement thrust it up to my gut, stopping mere centimeters away. “Ask questions. You share. I thrust.” I swallowed hard, feeling the movement of the air through my body, pushing my stomach that moment closer to the tip of the spear, the edge brushing against the fabric of my shirt. “Who were those people who attacked you?” I asked. “Another group,” the man said. He stared at me with unmoving eye contact. An intense, unaltered stare. “Why did they attack?” “Food.” “They thought you had food?” The man let out a small shake of his head, but the eyes remained glued to mine. “We were food. They hunt.” “And they are why you carry the spears?” “Them. Hunting. And the varg.” “Who are the varg?” “Monsters.” I took a moment to check the questions I wanted to ask, making sure that at no point would I share knowledge. Looking down, there was the smallest of spaces where I could make out the uneven brown dirt between the tip of the spear and my belly. That brief gap that kept me alive. “Who are the Leviathans?” “Don’t know.” “Then how will you take us to them?” “At four years Leviathans demand a child. The river enters a cave. The cave leads to Leviathans.” “So you’re going to make us swim down the cave?” “No. Your bodies will float. You are not a child. You don’t need life.” I instinctively took a half pace back. My right foot, resting a few inches behind me. The spear though remained far too close. “You’re going to kill us for the Leviathans.” The man simply nodded. “Then why not kill us already?” I hated saying the words, feeling as though I was daring him to thrust, to do it now instead of later. I closed my eyes as I continued to speak, waiting for the pain to erupt in my gut. “If we are to be offered dead, then why are we alive?” The man chuckled. I squinted as he finally broke eye contact from the ripple of laughter. Finally he turned to me, and smirked. “Dead don’t carry themselves.” My mouth opened. But no words came. The air had been sucked from my lungs, my voice stolen. “Done with questions?” The man asked. “Go. We leave soon.” I turned and walked back to Alessia, my mouth still open, my mind unable to process our fate. Alessia was already standing staring at the tree we’d been sent to. “How’d it go?.” I didn’t respond initially. I was unable to find words to tell someone I cared about that our bodies were due to be offered to make-believe ghosts. Instead, I stood, perfectly still; my nervous, shaky legs, planted to the spot, until the words made themselves apparent. “They’re going to sacrifice us. Kill us and throw us in a river that will take us to the Leviathans.” Alessia let out a wry smile. “I’m not surprised. What were you expecting?” “I don’t know,” I said, my hands raising to the sky. “Not to be murdered because some stupid people believe some fictional spirits might come and harm them.” “I wouldn’t say it’s all made up,” Alessia replied, her eyes returning to the tree. “What? There’s ghosts that come and kill them if they break nature? There’s no real threat-.” “Ghosts? No,” “What are you on about?” I said, my voice becoming increasingly terse as Alessia failed to meet my fears. “While you were gone, I was looking at this tree. It’s covered in these little scars, where something hacked at it years ago and it had grown over.” “Spears?” Alessia shook her head. “So I started looking on the ground near the tree. And...” She reached into her pocket and placed a small metal bullet in my pocket. “That tree isn’t hundreds of years old is it?” I said, rotating the bullet in my hand. “Fifty years at most,” Alessia replied. She turned to me, her gaze steady, but her eyes wide. “Someone on this island is a much bigger threat than anyone in this camp.” “What doing?” a voice barked from the clearing. We turned to see the leader of the group heading our way. I flung the small metal bullet out the back of my hand and into the forest. Removing the trace of something unnatural. “We’re ready to go,” Alessia replied. “When you are.” The man looked at us for a second, deciding how to proceed. He nodded. “Yes. Move. Let’s go.” He headed off and gathered the rest of his crew before marching us off once more into the woods. As we left, the sun was just lowering past the tops of the trees. Sunbeams clawed through the gaps between the trunks, as long shadows crawled across the ground. Pace by pace, the sun slipped further down, till the horizon swallowed it. Red light burnt across the sky, and the embers of the day began to die out, slowly fading into the dark blue of the night. My hearing began to take over as the primary sense as the forest around us took on a different voice. Songbirds chirped for territory, as owls whistled their arrival, ready to hunt the forest for mice or voles. I looked at Alessia. The last of the sun’s light reflected off the perspiration on her face, as her eyes were cast in shadow. “We’ve got to make a move soon,” I whispered. “We can’t just wait to die.” “I know. If need be, we wait till the last second and try to fight back. But, we could do with something changing our situation.” Our pace slowed as shrubs and leaves snared at our ankles, trying to hold us back. “I…” My mouth ran out of words. “I didn’t really want it to end with a death march.” Alessia let out the smallest chortle. “It wasn’t my plan either.” “I’m sorry I got you into this, but… I’m glad to have spent this time with you.” I muttered. “Shh,” Alessia replied. “Stop pretending you know how this ends.” I tried to force a smile, but it quickly melted. “It’s looking bad though.” “Yeah. I just don’t like giving up.” Alessia looked at me, head tilting forwardsl. “So don’t you give up. No matter what.” I nodded. The leader of the group grunted behind us, and pointed to the right. We turned and descended through a steep bank of trees. I held out my hands against the trunks for balance, as the bark scratched back at me. The twisted mess of ivy beneath my feet hissed as I dragged my feet through it, the brushing leaves threatening me. Then, as we reached the bottom of the bank, we came across a clearing. The forest abated and wild grasses, thigh high, instead covered our surroundings. The river descended down rapids and into a gorge, heading to a large cliff to our left. Then it hit me. This river. This is where we were due to meet our end. The water flew down a series of bony rocks. Gravity gave it a kick on the way down, and the water raced towards the cliff disappearing into a cave. However, the cave wasn’t filled with jagged shapes like you’d expect from erosion. Instead it was a perfect semi-circle. The kind of shape never seen in nature. It was man-made. Not a cave, but a tunnel. As I looked up at the cliff too, I noticed that behind the bushes and creeping vines, the steep slope was made of individual stones piled into a great mountain. Each rock, no doubt, carried to the top, and added to the pile by human hands. I had no idea who built this construction or when, but it wasn’t part of nature. Whether our captors knew it or not, man-made structures had always been with them. We began walking out into the clearing. The sun had gone, only twilight remained. The long shadows had withered, retreated to the earth. The tall grass shivered in the evening breeze as we marched across the clearing to the whispering leaves. My pace slowed, trying to delay the inevitable. I looked behind me. The group was getting closer, their spears prepped out in front of them. Ahead, I could hear the water churning over the rocks, beckoning us towards it. My mind was in a haze. A thousand, desperate screaming thoughts looking for an option. My feet slowly trudged as an automatic process, while my brain fought with itself, throwing accusations at past decisions, futilely pleading with the Gods for a route of escape. The world around me disappeared. The entire universe consumed by nothing but the fury inside my own head. The lights, the sounds, the sense of the breeze on my skin, all dissipated as I lost myself in the tumbling, frantic thinking. Then a howl. A high-pitched, but deep-throated whail into the nighttime air. That same howl I had heard on the clifftop the previous night. I turned to face our captors. They all stared at the forest, their bodies braced: back legs stretched out, spears by their side ready, eyes watching. I heard a growl. A rumbling snarl seeping through the woods. Then it stopped. Silence returned. Time stood still for a brief moment as no one moved, no one spoke, no one dared breathe. Then one of the group with a single exhale muttered. “The varg.” The bushes shook as great beasts leapt from the undergrowth. The animals looked like dogs, but their size was at least twice that of any I had seen. Huge, padded feet paced towards us. Black snouts sniffed the air, and the corners of lips raised, revealing jagged teeth. The varg charged at us. One spearman tried to swipe at it, but the varg was too quick, leaping up and latching onto the man’s arm. He screamed as he fell backwards. The great creature clenched its jaws around the man’s neck, as another of the group thrust a spear into the creature’s flank. The varg winced, retreating a couple of paces, but it didn’t fall. It stood, turning its attention to its attacker, the lance still sticking out of its hip. I tapped Alessia’s arm. “Quick, let’s go.” We ran towards the river - the only route available to us. We stopped at the edge of the rapids, the water swirling beneath us. Behind us, there was another scream. I saw a man being dragged back towards the forest, teeth firmly sunk into his shoulder. I looked at Alessia, her eyes caught by the slaughter behind us. I grabbed her arm, and her head whipped round to face me. Her mouth was open, her lungs gasping for air, as her wide eyes pleaded for sense. I nodded to her. She took a deep breath, and nodded back. Then, we turned to face the water, and jumped. \ Next chapter released 4th November.


Tearing asunder concrete jungles like cleavers through plastic, I ride with reckless abandon. I care not about the splattered flesh I leave in my wake - they don't even exist. I refuse to acknowledge them; I can't acknowledge them, literally. Where do they supplement their hubris, these humans, to defy me? I entangle myself through their ancient machinations; I run rampant through their olden civilizations; I give birth to colors among the sea of sandstone and concrete. I taste the blood of a trillion unnoticed cuts, thorns and jagged testaments. My sculptures lay defaced, lay stripped down and mocked. I give life and take it - they steal beauty, these humans. Monsters, the lot of them - a plague. I do what I can to recover, but I heal too slowly. My sundress is in tatters, and my tears dry faster than I produce them. I'm getting so warm. I am the progenitor of my downfall. I see humans tattoo me... scar me. The seek to replace me with them. Them! Them. They seek to replace what I've done. I am a monument of divinity; I am the seed and the egg. And my offspring is the matricide. I hear my oak fingers splinter. I smell the clouds parting overhead. I am no stranger to tragedy, but rarely am I the cause of my own. I see in the distance my wailing brothers and sisters, and our mother. They mourn their dichotomous sister. My adoption, just outside my reach, and which should also be out of reach to these humans, is also tainted. Impaled by brazen vendetta and pride. What have these humans done? My guardians lack the power to defend me. My beneficiaries are slaughtered and farmed. I wished not such torment, it is impossible. The humans will be my downfall, and thus, will be their downfall. They do not speak my language - only I do - but they don't have to. They see me wince and shiver as they poke and prod. I am not a factory. I am sustenance. They will see me roar, mark my silence. Each blink of my eyes lasts lifetimes, each heartbeat eons. Who do they think they are to resent me? My warnings - their warnings, they go unheeded. My retaliations go ignored. I am all but dominated. Soon we will all be barren rock. Dried oceans. Fruitless trees and meatless corpses. But I will live on past my own extinction, as I always have. I will have new, new and wonderous children. But this blight, this human curse, has reaped its harvest of misery. They think me silent, but my weapons are wordless - the devastation speaks for itself. I will be the ultimate champion of this war of attrition, but I will not be the victor. Nobody will be the victor. I am the ageless infinite. The temporary always. I am the seed and the egg. I am the solemn mother of life. I cannot forget, and I cannot forgive. I am the Earth, and I am undefeated.


The Chief Inspector glared at the man across from him, a ridiculous caricature of a tourist, so perfectly nondescript that he was absurdly easy to describe. And then there was that sweater. For some reason he found it all insulting. “Where is she, Wally?” he snapped. “I haven’t gone by that name in a long time,” the man replied as he sipped some of the steaming liquid from his cup. He sat comfortably and spoke calmly, as though he had invited a squad of police men into his home for a chat. “But it is your name! No matter how you change it you cannot escape your past. Except, you don’t want to. Look at you, the same as ever. She! She is a master of disguise and escape. She eludes even the finest minds in the finest forces in all the world,” the Inspector turned. “But you dress like a buffoon and parade around the world in plain view. You clearly want to be found.” “If you say so, Chief Inspector.” The policeman wheeled back to his captive. “Then let me help you! I can free you from her influence, from her scorn and abuse. What could she possibly see in you except a stooge to leave behind. Just tell me where she is!” The man smiled warmly but did not speak. In the silence, the Chief Inspector heard a sound he had missed over his own ranting and the tumult of the festival crowd only a few blocks away. “A helicopter?” he cried in alarm. His eyes cast about the studio with ignited interest. A disheveled bed. A warm fire. A setting of tea and treats, with one cup in the man’s hands and another on the table, steam rising from the brim. “She’s here!” the Inspector cried. “On the roof! She’s getting away!” “If you hurry, you can still catch her!” The laughter in the man’s voice peeled at the Inspector’s composure as he and his men fumbled the window open and scrambled out into the night and up the fire escape. Too late. By the time they clamored onto the roof an ultralight helicopter was thumping away, a carmine figure propped on the strut, looking back at him. He ran to the edge and clung to it as he watched his quarry escape. For a moment, before the helicopter tipped out of sight, he thought he saw her wave. Biting back a cry of frustration he moved to turn away, but a bright movement on the street below drew his gaze. The man strode out of the entrance, a pack on his back overloaded with ludicrous camping gear in the middle of one of the world’s most urbane cities. “No one stayed to watch him?” he shouted. His men wore expressions of stunned apprehension. “Get after him! He can’t get far!” They surged down the fire escape and into the street. Up ahead, he spotted the tall man’s hat bobbing up and down in the crowd, where it then turned down an alley. “He’s heading for the festival!” The inspector pushed and shoved through the crowd until he finally reached the alley, but he spotted no sign of the man. In a rush, he cajoled his way past drunken cavorters, pissing homeless and rancid garbage and burst into the square. Exactly as he did, he was deafened by the sound of a great gong ringing not more than a few yards from him. Instantly, the air was filled with color. Within seconds the Inspector was covered with rainbow powder. Everyone in the square was gleefully pelting one another with chalk of every hue imaginable. In the crowded furor, no one, even the Inspector and his men, weren’t covered from head to boot. “Spread out and find him!” he barked, his heart already sinking. They would look, but somehow the Inspector knew the man would not be found. In an alley only a few dozen yards away the man once called Wally finished his business and zipped his pants. He checked the collar of his plain brown jacket, turned up to his cheeks against cold and prying eyes. His pack was nearby, propped between the building and a dingy garbage can, but he left it there as he turned and headed for the train station. He’d find another. His hat, though, was tucked into his pocket with the tassel hanging out. Visible, as something always was. Just in case she was watching.


Jerry’s days were monotonous. Every day, every night, the same cycle. He thought this was what he wanted, after all this was the American dream right? He had graduated college, gotten a job at a law firm, and started a family. Although he loved his family something didn't seem right. Every morning his wife greeted him in the same way. “Hey honey, how'd you sleep?" his wife would ask. His two kids would exclaim, “Good morning Daddy!” in unison. Always this, nothing more nothing less. After, he would make 2 scrambled eggs, bacon, and some coffee. Then it was time to head to work. On his way to work, he would always be stopped at the same red light and a black Toyota Camry would give one senseless honk at him. When he got out of his car at the parking lot, a black lab on the sidewalk would bark three times. Once in his job, a man named Lorenzo would walk into his office exactly five minutes into his shift with a question about a civil dispute. Throughout the day the same clients he'd seen time and time again would stumble in. After 12 hours of this, he would go home. “Welcome, home Daddy,” his two kids would say in unison once again. After having meatloaf and potatoes for dinner with a glass of cheap wine, he’d head to the living room to watch T.V. As always, the Buccaneers were playing the 49ers and when he turned it on the score would be 21-21, 5 minutes into the second half. At exactly 11:30 he would head to bed and immediately fall asleep. The next morning the cycle would repeat. This continued to repeat until one day, an inconsistency happened. A man walked into the law firm Jerry had never seen before sporting a black leather jacket. He asked to speak with Jerry at the front and headed to his office. Without any greeting, the man prompted, “Aren’t you bored yet?”. For a brief moment, Jerry was confused about what he meant by bored, but within a few seconds, something clicked. Although he felt things had been off for a while it was as if a force in the air prevented him from doing anything about it, he was like a salmon flowing down an endless river, he lived an inescapable, monotonous existence. “Haven’t you noticed?" asked the man. "It's all the same Jerry," he said coldly. "Why don’t you go and feel your heartbeat for me,” he coerced with an eerie grin. To Jerry's horror, his heart was as still as a statue and he now noticed his skin was frigid as well. “You see Jerry you're already dead, you've been a corpse for many years now," the man stated dryly. "You’ve been repeating this day endlessly for quite some time, but in case you're wondering this is heaven nor hell, or even purgatory". "No, no, no, my dear friend this isn't a place for the good or bad, but instead for those who waste away their precious life. Those who were too scared to chase their dreams and chose to wallow in a miserable existence instead," stated the man. "You always wanted to be an actor Jerry, that was your only real passion in life, but you were too much of a coward to take the chance, too scared it would go wrong so you worked a job you despised and married a woman you didn't love until you died a lonely death, am I right?" asked the man callously. "However, I have a proposal for you," the man declared and began to smile. "I’ve chosen to give you one more chance. You will relive your life from when you were 18 and will have 10 years to change your fate and pursue your dreams". "If you manage to change, I'll let you live the rest of your life out. However, if you fail again, you won’t be going back to this place, oh no you'll be going someplace far, far worse, I’m sure you can imagine what I’m referring to," the man pressed. "Oh and if you choose not to accept you'll continue this day for all of eternity," he added. "Well, the decision's all yours Jerry, what will it be?" he asked with a nefarious smile. Face to face with the devil, Jerry reached out his hand….


#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.   *** #This week's theme is Adaptation! This week we’re going to explore the theme of ‘adaptation’. As the world changes around us, we grow and learn to adapt to it. This can be something that happens behind the scenes, one we barely notice, or it can be a difficult process that we fight every step of the way. Adaptation might be something more literal in your story. Maybe a character is making a physical transformation in order to adapt to the things around them, for survival. Is this a good change? Do others notice? What do they think about it? How will these things affect the world and people going forward? How does this change the characters’ goals and driving forces? 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 have a say in upcoming themes! Join us on the discord - we vote on a theme every Sunday. (You can also send suggestions to me via DM on Discord or Reddit!) * October 31 - Adaptation (this week) * November 7 - Vulnerability * November 14 - Heritage   *** **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 6pm EST the following Saturday to submit your story. Please make sure to read *all* of the rules before posting!   *** #The Rules: * **All top-level comments must be a story inspired by the theme (not using the theme is a disqualifier).** Use the stickied comment for off-topic discussion and questions you may have. * **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/post is not allowed. * **Stories must be 500-850 words.** Use to check your word count. **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 6pm EST.** That is one hour before the beginning of Campfire. Stories submitted after the deadline will not be eligible for rankings and will not be read during campfire. * **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 (on two different stories, not two on one) to qualify for rankings every week.** The feedback should be actionable and **must** include at least one detail about what the author has done well. Failing to meet the 2 comment requirement will disqualify you from weekly rankings. (Verbal feedback does not count towards this requirement.) **Missing your feedback two consecutive weeks will exclude you from campfire readings and rankings the following week.** You have until the following Sunday at 12pm EST to fulfill your feedback requirements each week. * **Keep the content “vaguely family friendly”.** While content rules are more relaxed here at r/ShortStories, we’re going to roll with the loose guidelines of family friendly for now. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, please modmail and ask! * **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 catalogue. Please note: You **must** use the exact same name each week. This includes commas and apostrophes. If not, the bot won’t recognize your serial installments.   *** #Reminders: * **If you are continuing an in-progress serial, please include links to the prior installments on reddit.** * **Saturdays I host a Serial Campfire on the discord main voice lounge**. Join us to read your story aloud, hear other stories, and share your own thoughts on serial writing! We start at 7pm EST. You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Don’t worry about being late, just join! * **You can nominate your favorite stories each week**. Send me a message on discord or reddit and let me know by 12pm EST the following Sunday. You do not have to attend the campfire, or have read all of the stories, to make nominations. Making nominations awards both parties points (see point breakdown). * Authors who successfully finish a serial with at least 8 installments will be featured with a modpost recognizing their completion and a flair banner on the subreddit. Authors are eligible for this highlight post only if they have followed the 2 feedback comments per thread rule (and all other post rules). * 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!   *** #Last Week’s Rankings With another small week, we have just three top spots. But as always, everyone who wrote deserves a pat on the back! - - u/nobodysgeese   - - u/rainbow--penguin   - - u/ispotts   - - u/WorldOrphan   *** #Ranking System There is a new point 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) *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” comments will not earn you points or credit.)* **Nominating Other Stories:** - Sending nominations for your favorite stories - 5 points (total)   *** ###Subreddit News - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday. Check out to learn more! - Sharpen your micro-fic skills by participating in our brand new feature, - Have you ever wanted to write a story with another writer? Check out our brand new weekly feature on r/WritingPrompts.


####Any feedback would be welcome. I'm trying to be less batshit insane in my writings.#### - Ard was told by Lord he could taste all that's of the land, with one exception. He must never, ever, eat the fruit of the great Xan Tree. Ard wandered the land, obeying Lord, sampling all it had to offer: Psychedelic mushrooms, stimulating leaves, appetite increasing herbs, pain killing poppies, fermented fruit, and much more. The natural world was at his disposal! He never considered the Xan Tree. However, one day, he found himself a bad bitch. Or a bad dick. He wasn't sure. They were in love and he didn't care if his partner was a bitchdick. Or a dickbitch. Unfortunately, it ended up being a bad bad. One day, his non-binary cohabitation partner came home with some xan fruit in hand. Xhe told Ard that a man, a cool man, convinced Zanzarella but a tiny pluck of the Xan Tree. Now, Zanantonio had handfuls of the things. Ard was bewildered. "What was that dude's name? How cool?" "Snake Serpent." "Dammit Zaneida! You know it's forbidden!" "Snake had a cool leather jacket." "Oh," replied Ard. Pop! And just like that Ard became Barrd. Ard soon saw shame in his clothes. He stripped, prancing nude about Eden, stealing as he saw fit. Chad Lord, appropriately named head of the homeless shelter, was enraged. Ard and his beloved Zanetioni.. <*Aw shit, who are we kidding? Ard never remembered her name. It's Zanny now, deal with it.*> Well, they were kicked the fuck out of Eden. "Who names a shitty homeless shelter 'Eden' anyway?" asked Zannie. There was a brief pause. "I mean, who names a shitty homeless shelter 'Eden' anyway?" asked Zannie, completely forgetting she had already asked that rhetorical question. Such is the way of alprazolam. "Who names -" Ard cut her off, likely the wheels spinning so slowly he was finally getting around to answering the first time the question was asked. "A Chad...A devious Chad. The Beta and the Zeta, a pussy. One who seflishly planted his xan shrub in the middle of his fortress paradise, all for himself!" Ard's mumble was barely audible. However, the way he clenched his fist, slowly swaying side to side, it showed shit was getting serious. With eyes half closed, he studied Eden. It wasn't good enough. He couldn't make out the proper reconnaissance details. In a gradual flash, his eye lids slowly widened at the speed of dumb. Zoom. Enhance. Zoom - no wait. Stop! He observed an imposing ring camera, some shoddy wifi, broken CCTV, and a daunting cast iron fence. Thin rods with tiny points at approximately chest height surrounded the perimeter. "Impenetrariation is impassible." Ard gasped. "You mean impossible?" asked Zannie. "No. Impassable. Like the speed of light. It's impassable to go faster than light, you'd always come in 2nd, never passing. Impassable." Zannie was glad to have such a smart BAE. What now? Ard had to science the shit out of it. Pencils? Check. Paper? Check. Calculator? Ard held up his fingers. Check. Most importantly, spectacles? A broken pair with no frames. *Bet these have transition lens, badass.* Ard thought. Check. Now he was ready. He needed Plan B, kids are a scourge of the earth. No wait. He needed his Plan A. A plan to defy the Chad Lord. He would break into the Shelter of Eden and steal the mighty Tree of Idiocy. *It's most displeasing to inform you that details concerning the grand adventure that followed is lost mostly to time. The participants in what was described as* ###"...The greatest heist of all time, with elements that made men ponder the true meaning of their existence...gave us the answers to life through vague platitudes...[love] solves all problems, including scarcity, world hunger, and rapidly decreasing biodiversity in the ecosystems."### *All involved are either dead or were too barred to bear the burden of remembering that fateful time. No insight could be extracted as to what happened.* What we do know is as follows. *Twist You Missed:* Eden is a shitty homeless shelter. It's not, in fact, the biblical paradise known as the Garden of Eden. (I know. Mind BLOWN). *Plot Twist:* The Tree of Idiocy ends up being a pill bottle, one with an everlasting script, a paradise of endless refills. *All is lost twist:* Masculine Chad Lord ends up not having a gender, enticing gender fluid Zannie, who leaves Ard. *Final Happy Ending Twist:* Luckily, Zannie and Chad suffer a poorly timed simultaneous seizure from xanax withdrawals that saves the day (How it saved the day is anybody's guess). Ard escaped with the bottle, avoiding indictments on a myriad of charges. Charges including breaking and entering, trespassing, attempted murder, first degree murder, desecration of a corpse, obstruction of justice, witness intimidation, destruction of evidence, and perhaps most baffling, conspiracy to over throw the United States. Officials refuse to comment on any of these related charges or why a grand jury dropped them. A spokesperson, notably swaying at the podium, stated, "Too be honest, we can't really remember." Ard, a free man, lives the rest of his days barred out and happily ever after.


#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 via message here on reddit or a DM on discord!   *** #This week’s challenge: As we enter into November, I want you all to think about Autumn this week. I’m giving you two images for inspiration. You may use either one—or both! ** | ** *Bonus Constraint (worth extra points): Story uses with the setting and/or weather.* This week’s challenge is to use the above image(s) as *inspiration* for your story. You may interpret the image any way you like, as long as the **connection is clear** and you follow all sub and post rules. You do not have to use the entire image. You can use any part you like (i.e. the colors, the subject, the setting, etc.).   *** #How It Works: - **Submit one story between 100-300 words** in the comments below, by the following Sunday at midnight, EST. No poetry. One story per author. - **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. - **Come back throughout the week, upvote your favorites and leave them a comment with some actionable feedback.** Do not downvote other stories on the thread. Vote manipulation is against Reddit rules and you will be reported. See the ranking scale below for a breakdown on points. - **Please be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here, as we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. - **Send your nominations for favorites each week to me, via DM, on Reddit or Discord by Monday at 2pm EST.** - 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 and Nominations - On Mondays at 12pm EST, I hold a Campfire on the discord server. We read all the stories from that week’s thread and provide verbal feedback for those authors that 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. You don’t even have to write to join in. Don’t worry about being late, just join! Everyone is welcome. - You can nominate your favorite stories each week, by sending me a message on reddit or discord. You have until 2pm EST on Monday (or about an hour after Campfire is over). You do *not* have to write or attend Campfire to submit nominations!   *** #How Rankings are Tallied I have made some significant changes in the ranking system. We’ll see how this works over the next few weeks and make adjustments where necessary. Here is a current breakdown: - **Use of Constraint:** 10 points - **Upvotes:** 5 points each - ***Actionable* Feedback** 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) - **Bonus:** Up to 10 pts. (This applies to things like bonus constraints and making user nominations)   *** #Rankings: This Past Week - - Submitted by u/Ryter99   - - Submitted by u/Mattswritingaccount   - - Submitted by u/Nakuzin   - - Submitted by u/BalticBrew   *** ###Subreddit News - Our sister sub, r/WritingPrompts, now has a ! - Try your hand at serial writing with [**Serial Sunday!**]() - Have you ever wanted to write a story with another writer? Check out our brand new weekly feature [**Follow Me Friday**]() on r/WritingPrompts - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


I grew up on the Nusa Tenggara islands in Indonesia, just east of Bali. The early part of my childhood was difficult, but this isn’t something you realise when you’re young. To me, growing up was full of fun and adventure on a tropical island. My young father wasn’t with us very often. He had enough smarts and luck to get into university in Jakarta. My mother would have to take care of me and my little brothers but when she had to go to work she would leave us with an old lady in the village. We called this old lady Odah, but she wasn’t really our grandmother. She would sell fruit from her little shack during the day while my brothers and I would cause trouble in her makeshift backyard. To keep us amused, and I’m sure to stop us from destroying her house, she would tell us old stories. I knew all of the old folk tales from the village, but her stories were different. Some of them, she admitted, she’d heard from the Dutch when she was a little girl. But most of them were from her own creation. She said she often just had stories in her head but because she couldn’t write them down she memorised all of them. As a child, I loved her stories. Sometimes I would even go back just to ask her to tell me a specific story and she was always more than happy to. Eventually my father came back and managed to get a job in Bali. After a few years he had made enough money and we all moved to Bali where our lives improved significantly. My brothers and I were all sent to a good school and we were all able to get a good education. During school breaks my mother would still take us back to the old village and I would always visit Odah. She was getting older and weaker but when I would ask to tell me a story her eyes would light up and we’d both be transported back to a time when I was a small child. After I finished high school I was accepted into the Universitas Indonesia in Jakarta. Odah’s stories had instilled in me a lifelong love of literature and so I studied arts at university. I decided to give something back to Odah. I had heard her stories for many years and had memorised all of them and so I wrote them down. With the little money I had, I had them professionally bound. Over the four years I was at university I gave Odah dozens of her stories which she kept all piled up in a special corner of her shack. She loved them so much and she even told me that she was learning how to read them. In 2013 a tropical cyclone hit the Nusa Tenggara islands. I was in Singapore at the time working as a journalist. There was no way I could get back right away but as soon as it was safe to do so I went back to the islands. I’ll never forget what I saw. The main street in the village was destroyed. Their wooden houses were knocked down and debris lay everywhere. It was difficult to recognise where Odah’s house was but as I got closer I could see it. The roof had caved in and fruit was floating on the flood waters. The water around her house was black and looked like a river of ink. Remnants of the books lay in pieces around the house. I asked around if anyone had seen Odah but everyone was worried about their own families. I tried looking for hours but I had no luck. Odah had no funeral. I don’t even know if anyone really missed her. But I did. I got back to Singapore and started rewriting her stories. I had written them down in the original Balinese but this time I translated them to Indonesian. After months of trying eventually some of my connections in the publishing world came through and I got her stories published. I used the pen name Odah Tengarra. After all, these were her stories, not mine. Shamelessly I wrote a story about Odah which my editor, probably due to my grief, agreed to publish in our magazine. It wasn’t a big piece but it did draw attention to her collection of short stories. The public were touched and soon the stories became widely read in Indonesia. Our readers in Singapore were curious about these stories and so they were also translated to Singaporean Mandarin, Malay and English. I had included some of the stories she had heard from the Dutch and so her stories were read in Europe as well. The collection of stories wasn’t exactly a bestseller but it was making money. I took the profits and donated it back to the old village. I had a library built in her honour and I could even employ some teachers to teach the local children how to read. In front of the library I commissioned a statue to be built of Odah reading to a young child. This was the least I could do for the greatest woman I had ever known.


From the Prompt - **You've just walked in on your sibling murdering someone, and they are surprised by how unfazed you are.** My answer was to long to post it there so I am putting it up here.  Blood, I could smell it permeating the air. It smelled a little like rusted pennies and funnily enough raw hamburgers. I knew the smell well, but why the hell was I smelling it now? In my family home where I have never done any of those, well, hidden activities. Curious, I began my investigation through the living room to the kitchen. Nothing cooking in here. I moved on my eyes flicking to the laundry, the door was open a load of washing was on but no blood could be seen. I went on to the hallway towards the back of the house. The smell got stronger and I began to worry Had I fucked up had I been seen one night? Had I been followed back to my family home. Was I about to find the body of my mother and father slaughtered in there bed? I didn’t really know how to feel about that, feelings of any kind confused me. Still I did my best to copy what I saw in others. I told my parents quite often that I loved them, I smiled and hugged them, when they did something that pleased me and reminded myself that I should do the same in return. That was the normal thing to do and I had to look normal so as to not get unwanted attention. Stopping at their bedroom the door was open, the bed made, clothing put away neatly in draws and closets. The headboard and bed side tables were even clutter and dust free. I moved on. Bathroom, clean and clear. My old childhood bedroom now an office. A little messy with paperwork but still clear. My eyes locked onto the last door, right at the end of the hallway, my little sisters room. I let out a soft breath and edged towards her door wondering what I would find. She was 5 years younger then me and a pain in the ass. Id thought of killing her often, spent hours dwelling on how I could get away with it so no one would be able to trace things back to me. Id been young, immature and no plan was ever perfect enough, it meant she survived to reach adulthood, lucky bitch. She also stopped being such a pain in the ass. I’m sure my moving out helped a lot with that. Now this. The smell of blood. Had someone else killed my sister? If so they were fucking dead. I’d hunt them down and spend a few days skinning them. Id rip out there teeth and nails one by one, break there fingers then any other bone that I felt like shattering It wouldn’t be quick, whoever it was would suffer until there hearts gave out from the agony. My long strong fingers curled around the door handle and I was turning it when the thought that the killer could be still in there and I had no weapon. To late to retreat now, I pushed hard on the door letting it swing back to hit the wall letting me know no one was hiding behind it. A woman screamed and turned to face me both of us stood frozen staring at one another. She was drenched in blood, it covered her from head to toe dripping from her hair onto her shoulders soaking into her once white shirt. I could still see the image of a unicorn on it and frowned. I knew that shirt, and the one adult childish enough to wear it at 22 “Debbie” I said with disbelief “Jamie” yep that was her voice I looked past her to the mess on her bed, the body had been stabbed multiple times even now a knife protruded from the body. I stepped closer to have a better look and my sister stumbled back stopping only when her shoulders hit her cupboard doors. “what a mess” I said looking now at the room, blood had sprayed up to hit the walls, it had soaked into the carpet and the bed, well the bed was done for. She would never be able to get the blood out and give it a few days and the smell would be unbearable. I sighed “your lucky I have a truck with room for all this shit” I hissed wondering where to even start. Id never been this messy “your, your not gonna call the cops” she shook as I looked at her “the cops, why would I call them?” wide eyes stared at me “I killed someone” I nodded this was fact, why she was stating the obvious thought I never understood why people did that “yeah I see that” “that's wrong” It was? funny I never felt that way “they why did you do it” she curled in on herself at my question her slim arms hugging herself “he, he” and her voice died I looked back to the face trying to work out who the stiff was “he tried” she started again and petered out I rolled my eyes not wanting to stand here while she tried to explain and failed “whatever, he is dead now and we need to deal with this fucking mess” I had rolls of plastic in my car. Duck-tape, rope and chemicals as well as a plastic body suit. I turned to go get it “don't leave me” I turned back as my sister cried out and the first of many tears began “your really not freaked out by this?” she pushed off from the door she had been leaning against “no, and I’m not leaving, I’m getting plastic to wrap this shit in so it doesn’t contaminate the rest of the house when we drag it out" She used her hands to swipe at the tears it only smeared the blood around more “when are mum and dad coming home?” I needed to know “tomorrow” she hick-upped after telling me and I let out a small breath. At least that was good news this would take hours to clean up and mum and dad would insist on calling the cops even if that meant sending there baby girl to prison for the rest of her life. “go have a shower” I snapped “try not to get blood everywhere” I had a second plastic body suit in my car that would fit her with some minor modifications, I'd be damned if I was cleaning this up on my own. Walking off I was lugging things back in happy to hear the water going in the bathroom. I made a note to clean that room to, everything would need a good scrub down with bleach and a lot of it. At least Debbie was doing as she was told. For once. I rolled my eyes again as I ripped off the first heavy duty garbage bag from the roll and began to stuff loose items into it. I didn't care if it was clothing, stuffed toys from her childhood or school books, everything was replaceable. This was step one of the clean up. I'd need help taking it all out, that was step two. I already had a disposal spot in mind, one I have looked into for my next project but I guess that would have to wait. Step three would be wrapping up the stiff for that Debbie would have to help me Hearing the water shut off a good half an hour later my sister was dressed in her ratty gardening clothing when she came back to her room. Clearly she didn't want to ruin any of her good stuff as she liked to call it, I found half of it vomit inducing, all the pink and sparkle and her obversion with fucking unicorns, blah. What was wrong with black on practical black? yet another thing I didn't get. thankfully I was a guy so I didn't have to worry to much about fashion and shit. holding my hand up to halt her at the threshold she looked to the bags already filled with blood spattered items. “stop” I pointed to the plastic suit I had hanging on the door “put that on first” her eyes went back to the body on her bed “hurry up” she pulled it on taping down the openings like I told her after also putting on booties and gloves then came in. together we wrapped the body she didn't complain as I instructed her on the best way to wrap so as to avoid seepage and so that we could carry the body with ease. Next was the mattress and all the coverings, she would need a new bed after this. Hell I’d even splurge and buy her one for being such a good sport about this even if I was the one doing her the big ass favor here. As night fell we moved everything out to my car. The mattress fit, just barely. Everything else pilled in on top. Going back to clean, her carpet was ripped up, that would be hard to explain to the parental unit but not as hard as the massive blood stain. Id get her a huge ass rug to cover the un-polished floor if I had to. The cleaning went on for hours the chemicals strong enough to make even my eyes water as we wiped every surface down three times over, just to be sure not a spot was missed. Only when I was satisfied did we stop, having worked until the wee hours of the morning. Feeling bone tired and seeing my sister was on the verge of passing out I considered letting her stay home to sleep in mum and dads bed for a few hours while I took out the trash but she insisted on coming with me as we that’s when the conversation I didn’t really want to have came. I should have known “how do you know how to do this?” I sighed wondering how much to tell her, if I even should tell her knowing that after the trauma of tonight wore off or at least dulled a bit she would come to see me in a new light. I’d no longer be the weird annoying big brother, I’d be the killer big brother the freak. “I just do” I muttered hoping she would be satisfied with the answer and let it go at that but no she was a girl she wanted to talk about her feelings and all that shit. I ignored the next few questions as the spic finally turned to why she had done it. I had expected the answer to be he had hit her, had hurt her in some other way, maybe even tried to rape her but no instead she admitted that she has had these feelings for a while now. She would break up with boyfriends when the desire to kill them got to great but tonight something had snapped and the knife she kept sandwiched between her baseboard and mattress had ended up in her hand while she had been making out with her latest guy. Before she knew it the blade was in his flesh “it was so easy” I nodded understanding “and the blood, so much blood” she sighed making me look at her because I knew that sigh had made that sigh myself a few times “I should have planned better” she admitted after several minuets of driving in silence “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up to help me bro” I rolled my eyes knowing what would have happened. She would have done a crap job of cleaning up. Mum and dad would have come home. Eventually the smell of blood rotting in her mattress and carpet would have stunk out the whole house just as an investigation on the disappearance of the boy really truly began. One cop showing up just for a chat would have been enough for them to be suspicious and she would be taken in for questioning. Things would only go down hill for her from there. “yeah you should have planned better” I said “but I can teach you that” the words slipped out before I really thought it through “really?” I could hear the hope in her voice and knew I had to follow through now with my promise “yeah” “wicked” the word made me smirk “yeah we are” reaching out to turn the music on because I didn't want to talk any more 'bad to the bone' came on making me roll my eyes and my sister laugh aloud “how appropriate” she commented turning it up so the base boomed, wasn’t it just, I thought.


Some time ago I was not much older than a boy, living deep enough in the countryside near the Kent Sussex border. It was a magical place for a child to be back then. My memories are all of the land, or mostly, it feels like. People and places on the land, if you understand me. Standing still or moving, but never vivid as the fields and forests and rivers in the background. Of course, the land wasn’t still either! The trees budded when the winter, and we never had such hard winters, passed and the clods of earth soften in the fields, it was a magical time. The naybellish time, as the old folks would say it, when the clods of earth, frozen up like a pebble beach would soften up like clay and the trees would be budding brightly from their dark winter bark, was like nothing else. The may bells, I think I remember the little girls would sing in some rhyme. The silly sorts of things that stay with you. Spring was a cruel too. Winter, you knew its hard sides and its soft. Biting, itching, cold or excitement of snow. You never know with Springtime. The low hot sun in your eyes and the ice crunching under your feet. Golden green seedlings treaded into mud or swallowed in the freezing mists. You could wake up and see a whole field turn brown one day to the next. But that was it. The yeartimes went by well enough and there was always some fate or festival to be had. When we were small, we, my mother and my older sisters, would go from village to village for them. Vicars and churchyards, tables of teas and sickly-sweet cakes that would make your face feel sticky. The young ones, especially the boys, would always sneak off behind the chapels, squeezing between walls and hedgerows, getting into scraps. Often enough, my poor mum would drag me home with a fat lip and mud caked into my jumper. That’s how boy were. There was no helping it. It must have been summer, with the earth hardened and the grass all dried and sharp. I was playing cricket or knocking a ball about and a boy I never much liked came walking up behind me with his head in the clouds. Well I smacked him as I drew back the bat. My lord. It was like walking up the stairs at night and reaching the top on step too early. Where there should have been resistance, there wasn’t. It felt like a twig breaking under your feet in soft mud. Well of course, after he bled all he was able, all the fingers pointed my way. Not seriously, mind you, but you can hardly say the boy who lost an eye and had his nose wiped across his face was at fault. No one held me to it, no one that didn’t mind me anyway at least. That was the way, you said the right things when you ought to say them. It was a beautiful place and a hard place too sometimes but you were part of it. It felt like we were spiralling through forward, getting older one summer at a time, telling the same stories, trying different things. That’s what eternity meant to me, not what the chaplain told us on a Sunday. These stories though, I don’t know where we even heard then from in particular, you always just knew. I loved them all. The twin sisters, the black dogs, the black cats. You don’t know what’s until you get talking to people from elsewhere. The tooth fairy always felt ridiculous to me, for instance, but the dragons in the wells, the hooded folk, the three deaths… Well the well dragons, Wyrms really, you need to imagine it like this: you’re a child in the summer and the sun is blazing on a sleepy day. You disappear into the fields. Its like hypnotism, with the swaying golden wheat and the dancing pools of shadows by the treeline. You come across a hillside, crumbled away showing a deep dark entrance. In the brightness of the day or the darkness of the night, you couldn’t see a thing. All of a sudden as you feel yourself being drawn near, something like the breath of cold stagnant air groans out over you and in that darkness, there are coal black eyes looking back at you. And yes, sure enough, the Romans mined this area for tin, as I suppose the Celts did before and the Jutes did after and whatever we called ourselves later on did too. And yes, the soil here is full of dark smooth stones, and in the ground water, in a shaft opened up by summer storm on a bright day would… dazzle. Yes. You don’t need to know something isn’t or probably isn’t true to feel it deep down. There was a young girl that crawled into one of these shafts, an old train tunnel, and she was found smashed to bits, presumably by the fall. That was before my time. I’m sure lots of the children that went missing or ran away across in the south, ended up like her but with no basset hound to sniff out the corpse. I swear I’ve seen some thing too sometimes. Felt sometimes for sure. It sounds daft to say but once, older than I should’ve been for a story like this, I was walking home from the pub. It was one of those long summer nights when the sun sets late so I went through the woods instead of the road up the hill. Well, I had maybe a bit more than I should have and it took longer than I thought. The sun started setting. It went so still when the wood doves stopped their cooing and it was just me then. I was maybe 17 or so and, whatever I felt, I wasn’t going show it even to myself! As it got darker, I slowed down minding out for roots and such on the path until eventually, it was black. I could hear sounds, little scraping sounds, rustling in the leaves and passed it off as an owl on the hunt. I kept walking with my hands out in front of me, feeling for the saplings. Saplings everywhere in that part. I became aware that the rustling was matching my own steps. I’d put my foot forwards and sometimes the leaves would make a sound a few feet back. Nonsense, I told myself, but kept ever so quiet. Then I started heard a twig snap, crisp and loud. I bolted upright not knowing what to do. I was like a statue on the outside but, inside, well… I had a bright idea all of a sudden and took out my cigarettes and a book of matches, I put on the show for no one of putting one in my mouth and drunkenly fumbling the match into the perfect position and then, strike. In front of me were eyes then a face, just a face it seemed in the darkness, level with my own. Fox like, somehow, its eyes like solid emerald. I jolted back and the match went out. I went back against the trunk of a tree and smacked the back of my head decently with the hands. I was there for what seemed like… I don’t know. Then I lit another match, this time getting my cigarette too, and nothing. Well, I laid off it for a while after that. It wasn’t that we were believers… it was just what we heard on Sunday was so abstract, you see. Then there was what we all knew by and by. When a fox catches a rabbit, it dies three times. When its caught, when its eaten, when its… passed out, as it were. And there’s life at every stage too. When its living, when its gives life to the fox, and when it gives life to the earth. I don’t mean to sound crude but there is something to it when you see a seedling popping out of shit in the brush. Then there were the stories about when the Celts used to do. Combeston, a place nearby, was one of them. Sacrifice. They, the druids, would take you by the neck, and garrotte you with a rope. When your eyes were bulging, they would force you on your knees with your head back and slice into you. A crowd would be there below this old stone where it happened, and they would be showered in the spray. Then another would take a hammer, or I heard sword too, and finish it. I don’t totally understand why they did it. Sacrifice. It’s such a Christian idea. I think its more of a demonstration or the spiral turning on. There was no here and hereafter… just a doorway you stand between. You spend most of your life facing one way, catching glimpses out of the corner of your eye but sometimes you can turn and, just for a moment, see what’s looking back at you.


We always see somethings in life and think to ourselves what it's like? To go down that area explore those places, see what life could experience you if you dared. Could be something as crazy as climbing to the top of that one mountain or exploring that one room in the house. For me, it was a dark hallway in my grandmother's room. Ever since I was young it was always there beckoning me to enter and while I was always too scared to one day I worked up the courage to do so. I never understood why it took me so long to do it but I’ll be damned if I didn't. So I marched away into the unknown hallway only to find to my horror…. A locked door. Grandma always did have an element of theatricalises I suppose. Nevertheless, the search must go forward. This is merely just an obstacle in the way of greatness and just like all obstacles, it is necessary only to sway those who don't truly desire it and so like all great explorers I gave up. Yep, no great quest no X marks the spot. And to celebrate such a success I did what all great quitters do and reward myself with a freshly baked cookie. Grabbing the stool to reach the top cupboard to get the cookie jar wasn’t an easy task either, however it was a necessary one and with time and skill, I elegantly achieved my goal with grace. But just as luck would have the front door jiggled slightly as the current residential owner attempted to enter. I was able to analyze the situation quickly and knew my only chance to remain undetected was to make a perilous leap from where I stood. I did not know if I would survive the jump but the reward far outweighed. the risk so I did what any brave man would do. I jumped. The pain shot through my leg as I collapsed onto the ground but I had no time nor energy to remain where I was so I ran. The door busted open suddenly as I turned the corner into the dark hallway I started from. I was cornered. Like a rat in a sick maze. I made the disastrous mistake of being wrong. Something I shall not do again. "Hello?" The voice called out. She was close. Her fangs vile and crimson dripped with the blood of her last victim. It was then I realized that it was either me or her except I was clouded in the fog of war. While I knew what had to be done this was no easy task. The giant loomed over the hallway peeking her head around the corner staring into me. Stealth was not an option and I can tell whatever had my grandmother had to be destroyed before it infected anything else. "There you are sweety" the creature said turning on the hallway light. An oversight on me and a genius play on its part. I was blinded and she crept forward blocking the exit. If I didn't make a stand now I may not ever hold the chance. I readied myself and prepared my stance. My research and training by Power Rangers taught me everything I knew, not sponsored. And so with one quick blow I punched in the air having the wind blow the parasite out where I easily stomped it to death saving both my grandmother and the world. "WOAH!" said the child on the swing set. "Can you teach me how to do that?" "I could but I must warn you that you can **never** tell anyone about it AND you'll have to do the initiation" I replied. "Of course anything." replied the boy. A smile grew on my face as I watched the initiation ninja robots appeared.