Last week’s rankings are as follows:
Edit on Mizal’s idea, I'm going to push idea entries back one week, so the winner gets an entire week to think of what to put as their idea.
Just to be clear, yes the winner still gets to pick an idea for the week’s writing prompt, but it'll be the one the week after the next.
Here is this week’s writing prompt
1) Write about what happens after the villain takes over the world.
2) Santa Muerte
3) “My life, your death.”
Stealing the tagging list from Axiom, and tagging everyone that has expressed interest in the past. Please inform me if you don't wish to be tagged to this anymore.
@WouldntItBeNice @Steve24833 @JJJ-thebanisher @bbshark @Bucky @mizal @FrankIevatus @TheNewIAP @Romulus @TacocaT @Crescentstar @Mayana @Zulutrader @MasonJarGuzzi @Ogre11 @malkalack @Charaxes @eshspoyeofdoom @RoyalGhost_007 @StillWatersRunDeep @temporaryaccount @ISentinelPenguinI @Drew8521 @Orange @LickReborn @ZagHero @Gemini4Ever @Bannerlord @Taylor_Boulet @Madhattersdaughter @MrMustachio @firegrill @WizzyCat @Pleb @Saika @Iavatus @Minnieking @Claw2k11 @Nyctophilia
As always, anyone is free to join- not just the people tagged, and there is no time limit nor word limit. You can go back and do any of the writing prompts at any time, and you can do as many writing prompts as you wish.
If you want criticism, you can ask.
Have fun, everyone ^_^
Definitely entering this week.
You better. >:)
I lied i'm sorry. Plz don't hurt me
^_^ Yay! Mizal might write something! :D
Before I enter, I would like to say that there's just a tiny error on the list of tagged participants. I think autocorrect has something to do with that, Seto.
>~< I would turn off my autocorrect, but then I'd never get anything done at 12.00am xD
That's the funniest thing I've seen on this site yet.
I'm deciding to get back into this instead of spending time stealing memes and spacing out. I have a good idea for number three.
Yay! We got another victim! ^_^ And it's Zag, which makes it better. :3 you remind me of someone I know irl
Is this person secretly a female?
I hope not. o-o Wait are you? XD
Haha, no. I'm just messing around. You haven't seen my cringey YouTube account?
Oh! I'm so happy! What spicy prompts...I'ma try em'! But my wifi is iffy, so I might not enter this week. I'll try anywho!
Oh, and @Saika, I didn't get to say it yet, but I loved your writing (especially last week). It was so interesting. I know you said you probably won't continue it, but I thought it was really cool.
Ooh thanks. I wasn't really satisfied with that, though. I actually wanted to do the Alchemist idea - I had a fantasy idea about an orc who was an apprentice alchemist who got thrown out of university because his paper got eaten by his three-legged cat, and so he had no choice but to apprentice under his eccentric/marginally insane granny who was also a failed alchemist.
What followed next was an action sequence during which his granny turned their grandfather into a behemoth-type monster which went berserk and trashed the lab. There was also something about his three-legged cat climbing into one of the catapults (yes, there were catapults).
But then I realised I wouldn't be satisfied with that unless it was over 20 pages (as with pretty much any fantasy I write) so I ended up not doing that, and instead wrote sci-fi about brains.
I understand. It's hard to not write out a complete novel of a short story you begin.
I know, I have real trouble writing anything that's super-short. I'm surprised I can write anything feasible for these writing prompts. If it's one of my favourite genres then I feel I have to write an entire novel - but then I don't have enough motivation to actually see to the end of it, and nothing gets done.
I think we're going to be friends for a very long time. :)
I feel the same. I struggle with short stories, hence why I started doing these things. I suppose I've gotten better. Somewhat. xD
@StillWatersRunDeep I actually enjoyed yours a lot. I was very interested in reading it. You're stories are getting better, imo. :D
(Finally wrote something I'm vaguely satisfied with.)
The sky burned an angry red over the outlands of Jenastria, a permanent reminder of the war fought by the native Velurians against Empress Straza almost two hundred years ago. It hung like a blister over the peaceful landscape, where thousands of recent inhabitants poured into the major cities, whether by physical transport or long-distance mind transfer. Even so, enough time had passed that most people had long become used to it.
I had chosen the scenic route, travelling by V-Carriage around the perimeter to have a full overview of Straza’s influence. The Razials used to call them slave carriages at first, back when Straza’s empire was just beginning to take root, but many found fault with the name and claimed it brought back bad memories from before the Empress came to power. Soon enough, the governing bodies altered the name to Velurian Carriages, but as the years passed they came to be known simply as V-Carriages. The term was quite self-explanatory, really.
It may have seemed a slow way to travel, seated in a transport module pulled only by a mere bipedal species of the region, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. V-Carriages created no toxic waste and were environmentally friendly, although you still needed to feed the Velurians after each stretch. Call me old-fashioned, but as a travelling journalist I wanted to experience the whole thing for myself once in a while.
I raised my head to see a female Razial appear at the entrance to my transport module. Her presence was not unwelcome.
“Ah, do come in, Virona,” I said, releasing the mental lock set into the doors which barred all Velurians from crossing over into forbidden areas. “Thank you for coming. I’m glad you could meet with me at such short notice.”
“Not at all, Delassi, not at all,” she said with a brief smile. Her light blue skin had a tinge of yellow in the morning light, and I suspected that she had been applying some kind of otherworld product recently. Perhaps to appeal to other Razials? I was unsure of her relationship status.
“It isn’t every day that I can talk about my work to an outsider,” she said. “I’m more than happy to oblige to your request.” Her gaze shifted slightly towards the window, which lay wide open. “Will you close that? I refuse to have any of those Delurian toxins poison my future offspring.”
I did so without any physical movement, shutting the window tight using the tiny mental power required to activate it. I had made my acquaintance with Virona on the long route to the underground cities of Jenastria, and the relationship appeared to be beneficial to both of us. She was a fairly well-known historian who had published quite a few case studies of her own, and I was intrigued to see how she would help with my own work.
“Mr Delassi, I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to get straight to it.”
She seated herself opposite me, placing one hand palm-down onto the regeneration fluid dispenser which Razials use for short-term sustenance. With today’s technology, it was not uncommon for the wealthy to have additional organs implanted in other parts of their body. In Virona’s case, she had an extra mouth placed right inside her hand. It was simply a lot more convenient than having to continuously transfer food to your face all the time.
“I understand you’re a travelling journalist in these parts,” she said, a pulsating glow radiating from her hand as she began to feed. “You’re writing an article on post-Velurian history and the effects of alien growth on Razial society, yes?”
I could immediately tell by her accent that she had lived in Jenastria all her life, presumably from one of the northern regions where the toxic content was much lower. Not many could afford to live in such a place; the deeper you went into Jenastria, the more expensive it became, and the greater the risks involved. Of course, it went both ways. If you played your cards right and knew how to manipulate your position in Razial society, living so close to Empress Straza could be quite a lucrative investment. You had to think of the long-term possibilities.
“That’s correct,” I answered, leaning back in my seat. It adjusted itself automatically in response to my perceived thought patterns. “I’m not trying to promote Jenastria as a whole, but rather I’m interested in making my own observations. You mentioned before that this is your area of expertise.”
“Certainly, Mr Delassi,” she said pleasantly. “It’s been perhaps twenty five years since I published my first work – officially recognised by the governing bodies put in place by Empress Straza, that is – but my knowledge of historical affairs remains as fresh as ever. We Razials pride ourselves on keeping our minds young. Should we start at the beginning?”
I spoke quickly to forestall her. “Before we begin, Virona,” I said, “I think an overview of the situation between Razials and Velurians would not go amiss. The Velurians were originally the natives of Jenastria, weren’t they?”
She frowned, as if not expecting this kind of question. “Oh, Delassi, really now. This topic has been covered so many times over the past two hundred years. Yes, the Velurians were the original natives of our great land of Jenastria. Are you going to start giving me arguments about equal treatment between alien species and all that rubbish? I thought this was an intellectual conversation, not the kind that otherworlders insist on bringing up in their foolish debates.”
“Not at all!” I said hastily. “I’m not excusing what the Velurians have done or the destruction they’ve caused to the planet. I’m simply starting from…the beginning. Just like you said.”
“Good,” Virona said rather huffily, an arrogant tone in her voice. “I’m glad we agree on that, because I don’t like Velurians, Delassi. You see the kind of toxic atmosphere we have to live in these days? That’s all down to them. All the mental energy in the universe couldn’t purify what they did to the planet. We are fortunate that Empress Straza was able to wipe most of them out!” She sighed. “Oh, Delassi, I’ve seen Velurians up close – they are such ugly creatures. They walk on two feet without the aid of any other limbs, they have only one functioning biological heart, their respiratory system is full of so many flaws, and they can’t even procreate without another member of their species. Delassi, these creatures are simply so limited! Can you imagine?”
I sighed and turned over another page of the journal through which I was tracking the general interview notes. Virona’s view of Velurians was nothing new in this day and age, and in fact general opinion of the resident aliens used to be much, much worse than this. There were still a few Velurian zoos open to the public.
“Let’s talk about what happened when Empress Straza encountered the Velurians,” I said encouragingly. “General consensus is that the natives were extremely hostile. The war lasted over three hundred years, didn’t it?”
Virona removed the palm of her hand from the dispenser, which was then automatically replaced and refilled. “Well, Delassi,” she said, “I can tell you that this is a topic which I have covered in many of my published works. But there’s nothing wrong with telling you first-hand. Empress Straza, originally Lady Straza, was a high-ranking ambassador of great repute within the Razial colonial ships. She was by no means the leader of the colonies, but the original commander was killed in action by a hostile Velurian attack which claimed the lives of many brave Razials.” Her gaze met mine. “Razials are not a violent species, Delassi, as well you know. Do you see us mistreating these barbaric aliens? Do you see us trying to harm them in any way? No, you do not.”
I wasn’t sure whether to mention to her that Velurians were often deprived of food and air in order to force them to comply. The average Razial can easily sustain themselves under such conditions and would probably not see that as a major punishment, but a Velurian certainly would. I kept silent and allowed Virona to continue.
“You know, of course, how everything proceeded from there,” she said. “Straza organised a select force of military generals and mental specialists to retaliate. Velurians have little defence against psychic attacks and this weakness was very easy to exploit. Their technology was quite abysmal, too – these primitive aliens had barely learned how to pilot a space vessel which could scarcely reach their own moon, let alone fly it anywhere useful. But I digress.
“The natives had some peculiar tactics of their own. Perhaps they had so many countries and were spread out upon such a large area, but Straza was forced to retreat and call in for greater numbers from our mother planet. Undercover espionage proved quite useful, too, but in the resulting war we Razials had to annihilate about a third of the entire Velurian population. You understand that mind control was just in the beginning stages back then, and we didn’t have the resources to dominate an entire species by psychic power alone.”
She gestured out the window of the V-Carriage with one hand. “See that, Delassi?” Virona was pointing at the angry red haze which blanketed the sky. “We didn’t expect the Velurians to have chemical weapons. We didn’t expect them to be so fanatical about trying to kill us that they would actually resort to sacrificing members of their own species. It’s quite laughable to many Razials that any species would act this way.
“The war lasted three hundred years, as you say, and twelve of their major countries were obliterated from the face of the earth before other nations started to surrender to us. The Velurians were demoted to slave status, of course, and restricted access to nourishment or air. Hardly any problem for us. Today, Velurians still have some freedom about where they may go and what they may say, but a restrictive mental barrier is kept in place to control what they can do. Obviously, none of them are intelligent enough to break such a barrier.” She snorts with derision. “Pretty pathetic, really. Thousands of years of evolution, and not one of them can show a glimmer of any real psychic abilities.”
I was busily inscribing all of this in my journal, barely even looking up as Virona talked. This had all been covered before, of course, but what I wanted were first-hand facts from the historian herself. This was going exactly how I wanted.
“Another question, Virona,” I said, putting my journal down for a second. “What are your thoughts about how Velurians view Empress Straza?”
She frowned again. “What do you mean?”
“Velurians are said to view Empress Straza as a tyrant, a force of evil who took everything from them and is perhaps solely responsible for turning them into slaves of Jenastria. Thousands of them die every year in the mines, after all…”
“Nonsense,” Virona scoffed. “Empress Straza is the reason why you and I are still alive today. When I was a child, my mother took me to see one of the national celebrations.” There was a faraway look in her eyes for a moment. “You should have seen it, Delassi! A great feast lay before us, songs and dancing throughout the night, and Empress Straza herself gave a speech to celebrate our independence from those worthless aliens. Delurians were forced to serve us hand and foot. I remember using one of them as a footrest.” She sighed wistfully. “Yes, my family were definitely on good terms with Straza. It’s partly because of her that I became the person I am today…
“Oh, yes.” The annoyed expression returned to her face rather quickly. “You were talking about what the Velurians think about all this. My response is: why should I care? They almost destroyed this beautiful world, centuries ago, before Straza took over. It is ignorant to call her “evil” – ignorant and childish. Children see things in black and white, as good and evil. We are not children, Delassi, though children are our future. It is vital that everyone knows that.
“Did you have any more questions, Mr Delassi?”
I filled up a few more pages of my journal via psychic manipulation alone, and then closed the book tightly. It made the kind of sound you get when you reach a very satisfactory ending.
“Just one, Virona,” I said calmly. “I believe we’re about to reach our destination at one of the underground cities. I’ve always wanted to see inside the central hub of Jenastria. Trade, commerce, entertainment…”
“Quite,” she replied. “And your question?”
I took a deep breath. “Would you like to accompany me a little longer, Virona? On a purely personal venture for both of us?”
She smiled more radiantly than usual, perhaps anticipating that I might ask such a thing of her, perhaps pleasantly surprised. The practice of courtship was a little outdated here in Jenastria, but there were still places where it was still a viable concept. Virona met my eyes, and there was no doubt in my mind that the emotion between us was quite mutual.
“Mr Delassi, this conversation has been both intriguing and fascinating for me,” she said, her eyes shining. “I would be delighted to continue it with you. Lead on.”
She offered her hand to me, and I took it, stepping out of the transport module and into the bustling cities of Jenastria which lay waiting for us under the surface. My thoughts of the past no longer bothered me. Virona joined me at my side. The red sky cast its faint glow upon her face, before we disappeared underground once more.
The hero gripped my small body, protecting me from a flurry of falling debris cast off by a strange avian beast. He swept the crumbling concrete and steel away from us with a sweep of his hand, as tears ran down my face. I was so afraid. Even then he still cradled me while leaning into the blow of the descending aerial combatant. He grunted as the beast dug its wicked claws into his back. He smiled down at me in spite of the pain, and I could feel his sturdy heart pumping away. “I’ve still got you, kid.”
To this day I am still wondering why it had to be me.
He slammed himself into the curb with myself still in his large and gentle hands, smashing the winged monster into the rubble and impaling it on an upstanding support beam, causing it to release a shriek of pain. He set me down and rose to his feet. He had an impressive stature, towering over me by more than a few yards. The hero gripped a shattered beam in his hands and readied himself for what was next.
A few people ran out of buildings in fear around us, only to be hastily snatched up by the roaming arial horrors. The ones who survived found themselves meeting my own eyes for a second, and we shared the brief fear in our hearts. My defender turned to meet the master of the winged wretches, only to view it flapping its monolith wings. The yellow eyes and blood-stained scales gave the levitating figure an otherworldly texture. I came to the conclusion that the masterful winged beast was some horrid combination of man and animal.
“Why are you so blind, Gigas?” The masterful winged humanoid cocked its head as its mouth hung agape, allowing a trickle of saliva to meet the ground. It’s voice was unnervingly smooth, and as precise as a knife. It was met with no verbal answer, only a shifting of footing in the hero’s stance. He still gripped the beam and met the stunning gaze of the winged master.
I was frozen in a mix of awe and fear.
The winged master went on, and its underlings formed in ranks behind it. “We are the peak of evolution. You superhumans have met your match.” A dark cackle made its way out of the master’s mouth, “Now, not even the greatest hero in this realm can defeat us.” This was met with the same kind of laughter from the underlings behind it. The master allowed a toothy smile to show as it looked back to its underlings. The hero lurched forward putting all of his power into the metal beam.
I remember blood splattering on my face, and entering my open mouth. I didn’t wipe my eyes, but stepped back to see the winged master with its clawed hand forced through my defender, with the metal beam jutting through it’s back. The winged master gasped in a rush of anguish and submission. “Now, we will finally end as one.” Both of the titans coughed blood onto each other, and the winged master brought its mouth open and clamped down on the hero’s shoulder. Blood and bits of flesh jumped into the master's mouth, the walk, and onto me.
“No. Not like this,” The hero shook his head and spoke through gritted teeth. He turned to take one last look at me. “-All for you, kid. Remember this.” The hero reached his arms around the winged master, fighting through the fatigue and pain. With a mighty tug he ripped both the arm of the humanoid wretch and the metal beam. In his free hand, he wielded the old steel like a club and screamed in pain. Blood began to seep out of the gaping hole in his torso. The master bit down harder to muffle its own cry of anguish.
I knew then that my defender would not last much longer. He had been fighting these things for days before he met me, protecting countless people from these scaly attackers. I knew that many other heroes fell beside him. I watched as his eyes rolled back and the underlings dove towards him. Perhaps they had finally realized that the battle was over. A golden glow poured from his core, and into the rest of his body. Charging forward to meet what remained of the flying legion, he released a barbaric yawp. He struck down the underlings with speed and precision, driving the beam through many at a time. But, there were too many for the weakened titan.
The hero leaped into the cloud of wings, and the golden power within him came spilling forward as a great tidal wave. It dissolved the dragon-like warriors while leaving little trace of them. Only small puddles of his golden power fell to splatter apart on the asphalt and buildings. His body met with the ground with an unforgiving collision. I ran to his side as fast as my legs could carry me and a cry snuck out from between my lips. He was badly wounded, with the wound on his shoulder and the hole in his midsection oozing the golden liquid. He stretched his remaining arm out to me, and I clutched it firmly and to his surprise brought it to my lips.
A stream of tears ran down my cheeks, “I’m so sorry.” My face contorted into a pained expression, and I felt as if someone had reached into me and had begun to squeeze my heart.
My defender smiled at me, and coughed up more of the golden liquid as if to say that my apology was not needed. I felt as the breath left his body, and his pulse slowed to a halt. My mind echoed the last words he uttered to me, Remember this.
In his hand, I found a golden marble. I wept bitterly and looked around in the desolation the battle had left. Civilians and heroes lay dead on the streets, and the marble was the only good thing I could see. A drop of water flicked my nose, and the darkened clouds above gave in. In the rain, the golden marble shone and sept into my hand. It filled my aching heart with a new strength, as if God himself had granted me a fresh soul. The power whispered in my mind, leaving an uncountable sea of emotions and memories in the crevices of my heart.
“My life, your death.”
Edit lock. Sorry for the weird formatting. I copied it from Google Docs.
It was two weeks into year 1 of our Grand Master Lord Ante’s Glorious Rule, and the gig was already losing it’s thrills.
“Jeebies,” Lord Ante asked, antenna twitching, beady eyes flicking over his newly conquered landscape. “What does one do when one has already taken over everything?”
Jeebies clicked happily and refilled his master’s mulch cup. “Why, one takes over something else, I suppose. That’s what you were born for. Have some more mulch, Master.”
Lord Ante left the cup where it was. His antenna were working madly at the air, as if to feel for some shape in his thoughts. Of course taking over the world was what he was born for, but what was he supposed to live for?
He glanced to the framed picture on his desk. It depicted his beautiful ant mother devouring the head of some screaming civilian. Mother. She would’ve wanted him to find another planet to take over, a new race to terrorize, a new government to infiltrate and rewrite. Earth hadn’t been hard – Just dig some underground tunnels, multiply for a few months, and then emerge from the dirt when it’s far to late to stop you. Get flashy, burn some buildings. Kick a few puppies. Kidnap the first-lady of some major world power, turn her into a bloodthirsty cyborg, and broadcast her beheading her own innocent people on live television. Morale goes down the crapper and POOF! You’re now CEO of the entire human race. It wasn’t like Ante had any practice rounds, either. He was just really good at conquering.
It’s what he was born for, after all.
"There's just... not a point anymore. I know the what, now I just have to learn...why." Ante let the sentence draw out, his pincers clacking with the weight of the last word.
Jeebies twitched. As a 10-foot tall worker ant, he was not equipped to deal with such inquiries. Jeebies was better with mulch. "Well, it's what your mother wa--"
"I know it's what she wanted, but what do I want, Jeebies? Why was I born? Why do I have a soul? Did Mother, in the anguish of ant-birth, ever think for a jiffy that her all-poweful Earth conquering son, King of Ants, Lord of Creation, would ever have to grapple with these concepts? And that by allowing me to live, that she had allowed me to suffer? Suffer in the night, where the sound of my gnashing pincers keep awake? Conquering a thousand planets and species will not give me a soul, Jeebies. It won't answer my questions. And Jeebies, friend, I have many, many questions. Where did we come from? Why must we conquer? And why did she name me Ante? I mean, I'm an ant, I get it!" The ant lord slammed a frustrated claw down onto the desk, shaking the mulch cup with its force. He took a labored breath. "Just what must we do to save our souls, Jeebies? What?"
Jeebies stood, unsure.
"...Uh, Master, what's a jiffy?"
"...It's a measure of time, Jeebies. It's very small."
"I think I'm going to get more mulch, Master."
"You do that."
Ante plopped down exhausted behind his desk as Jeebies, who was very confused but happy to be fetching mulch, shuffled out of the room. There was no hope, at least not today. One can't expect much from a worker ant. They just aren't the type. The ant lord sat around, hoping that he would be able to pout a little more but ultimately he gave into his urge and pulled open a drawer.
Ante felt around in his desk for his controller. With his index claw, he tapped the button labeled "1st LADY". The controller produced a chipper beep and a beautiful, mechanized lady with razor-sharp metal wings exploded through the window. This always happened.
"Dammit, Melania. Every time you do that, Jeebies has to clean it up, you know?"
"Sorry." The metal woman answered robotically, standing in a pile of broken glass.
There were perks to having the 1st Lady as your personal robot assassin. She was beautiful, deadly, and she killed morale like nothing else. Ante thought almost lovingly of the moment when he came up with the perfect scheme. Things were so simple, back then. Kill, devour, make a speech, make a plan, frolic... So much frolicking. Giant ant bodies weren't really made for that, but they did it anyway. Good times.
Ante pulled out the usual papers and the usual pen so he could do the usual accounting. Not that it really mattered.
"How many taken out today?"
Melania's eyes flashed as she made her calculations. "48.5, in America, Brazil, Peru, Argentina and Patagonia."
"Okay." He decided not to ask. He jotted down a note to check her coding later. "Any notables?"
"...No. Except perhaps one irritable civilian identified as 'Shane Lee Dawson'."
Ante looked up from his paperwork and looked his servant over. Strange. She labeled him as irritable. He jotted another note down. It seemed that another brain wipe was necessary. How he'd like one of those himself...
"Well, you seem to be doing your job, as you've earned a name for yourself. You've got people screaming 'Santa Muerte' in the streets. Here's the new li--"
To his surprise, the metal woman moved her lips. "Santa Muerte?" She inquired.
Ante tried not to look shocked. Cyborgs aren't the questioning type. "Yes. Mexican. Death diety."
"People get confused. More of a reason to kill them." He stacked his papers together, trying to compose himself. "You can be off."
Melania nodded and left, shattering another window in the process.
The ant lord's antennae were at work again. Surely she must be regaining her memories. Or, uh, unsurely. Robots, cyborgs, whatever you want to call them -- they don't do that. But her. Something stirred in the ant lord's heart. Something he was unaccustomed to...
"Master! Mulch!" Jeebies interrupted his thoughts, looking as chipper as ever. He presented his master with a new cup.
"Oh...! Jeebies. Thank you."
"Master, were you thinking again?"
Ante gazed longingly out the window. "Not really." He answered.
As you can tell, I forgot how to care halfway through.
(I don't know wtf this is. I was really angry at the time I wrote this, I suppose.)
One of us...
Can't live. Can't love.
My choice, your choice
My life, my lust...
It's all I ever wanted
It's all I really needed
I don't know what had happened
For some reason I don't get it
All the love I could've gotten
All the joy I can imagine
How good it will feel to be loved
Instead of being used and...
I can take over the this world
Leaders are made, not born
Heartless and bold
I can do what I want, don't have to be told!
'Cause baby you're dealing with the broken and insane
Feel all this hate I have suffered, this merciless pain
If you wanna play'round with me, you'll regret it
I'm out for vengeance, and babe you're my target
My life for your death
It's a fair and square deal
We're evened out cuz only one of us
Will live until the morning sun
To think of the betrayals is too much
I'm still not over that touch
I should just shove it off cuz all that was a lie
Baby, if I'm in the cage, I'd rather die
It's not just an exlover
It's those I trusted the most
I can't believe I ever believed them
It's these that betray the hardest
My life for your death
I used to love you so
The only way to get you outta my head
Is to make sure that your stone cold dead.
The both of us
Have made mistakes
I regret everything
And you will one day.
Miley Cyrus, give Cres her phone back right now.
Hmmm... She wrote "cuz" too. No appreciation for spelling. *sigh* (Miley Cyrus?) And why assume I'm on my phone?
Josh felt as if his heart had been torn out his chest. Laying comatose in the hospital bed before him was his 7 year old daughter, Alice. She had been sick for a long time and Josh had always known this moment would come, but he still felt devastated. Alice only had a few hours left on this planet according to the doctor. This was his last chance to see his daughters face. It wasn’t fair, what kind of sick twisted God would let such an innocent child suffer? Alice had done nothing wrong so why was she being tortured likes this. Josh then begin to wonder if it was his fault, wondering if God was doing this just to hurt him. Josh thought God had punished enough when he had taken his wife a few years back. Josh felt his thoughts rampaging through his mind colliding against one another before shattering apart. Suddenly despite the El Paso heat filtering through a window Josh felt a chill run down his spine. Nervously Josh slowly turned away from the form of his prone daughter.
WhatJosh saw scared him beyond words, he was no longer alone in his daughters room. Standing behind him was a woman in a dark robe. The most defining features of the woman was the long handled sickle in her right hand. The other stand out feature was that woman only had a skull on her shoulders. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Josh remembered those stories he had heard oh so long ago from his grandmother. The woman before him was none other than Santa Muerte, the Lady of Death herself.
After feeling the initial shock wear off Josh felt himself growing more and more frantic. There was only one reason why the Lady would be here, she had come for his daughters soul plain and simple. Taking a timid step forward Josh chose to try to convince the Lady that she was here prematurely.
“I know what you are and I know why you are here, but if you want to so much as lay of finger on Alice you have to go through me.” Josh exclaimed, sounding more confident then he felt.”
The Lady looked at him and let out a low chuckle that destroyed what little confidence Josh had left. “Why do you humans struggle so much against what you know to be inevitable.”
“Why you ask? Alice is an innocent child and it is a parents duty to protect them from cold hearted monsters like you.” Josh spat out with all of the contempt and hatred he could muster.
Taking to a moment to let Josh calm down the Lady spoke once more. “You call me a monster but exactly what do I do that is so evil in the minds of you mortals?” This caused Josh to stare at the Lady in a mix of shock and repulsion.
“You tear families apart, you go after the innocent with no mercy or remorse and you dare ask why you are viewed as a monster? You are the one who took my wife from me, and now you have come to take my only family away from me. Us ‘mortals’ as you refer to us as, we have something that an unfeeling force of evil such as yourself will never understand, we love.” Josh had to admit he felt a little better getting that off of his chest.
“Let me ask you something, is this precious love what makes life worth living? When you breathe your last breath will love keep your family from feeling the pain of loss?” The Lady inquired in a flat tone of voice.
“Love is the most powerful emotion. With it we can walk through hell with a smile so our loved ones may find bliss in heaven. I don’t get why the hell you asking about that but I’m sure you are incapable of understanding what a great motivator love is.”
The Lady without missing a beat simply said, “see that is where humans are wrong. Love does help but it isn’t why life is precious. Life is precious because I am always lurking in the shadows ready to end it in a heartbeat.” Josh merely looked at the Lady as if she had grown a third arm.
“Do you hear the stupidity that is coming out of your mouth right now? What kind of demented, sick lie are you trying to force on to me.” Josh was still glaring at the Lady in a mix of hatted and disgust.
“Tell me then through out history what do all the great figures have in common? What is the one thing that is the same regardless of when or where? The answer is quite simply, that one thing is they dedicated their one and only life for the sake of others. What makes life their life special is that they used up the most valuable resource they had in the pursuit of helping others. They used what little time they had to make an impact on history. Another point is that, you say I hunt down the innocent with no mercy or regret. I will be honest I do, but what you are forgetting is that I go after all mortals with the same ‘coldhearted’ efficiency. It doesn’t matter; rich, poor, saint, and sinner. I come for all when their time here is at an end. I came for your wife the same way I came for Osama Bin Laden.”
Josh had listened through the speech and he had felt something in his heart change. The Lady was right. Life had meaning because it had an end. While it might be true that Alice had only been on this planet of a brief time, she had been here. Josh realized that if he denied the end then the time she had been here would be disgraced. Taking a deep breath Josh spoke up, saying the only thing that he could. “Please let me say goodbye then you can do what you need to do .” The Lady merely nodded.
Josh felt tears start to stream down his face. With a shaky voice Josh began to say goodbye to his daughter. “Hey sweetie it’s me, daddy.” Josh felt his voice catch in his throat, pushing through it he continued to speak. “I just want to let you know how much I love and care for you. You are the center of my universe, but it’s time for you to take a trip. A nice Lady will pick you up soon and I promise you’ll love where you two are going. As much as it pains me to say this, I won’t be able to join you for awhile. Don’t worry though,” by this point Josh was struggling to keep his words coherent through the grief.
“Mama will be there to wait with you so don’t worry about being lonely.” Josh took a moment to look at his precious daughter before he leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Goodbye sweetie.” A moment after he had said goodbye he heard the sound that he was dreading, she had flat lined.
Amongst the wails full of pain and the constant buzzing from the machine a gentle sigh went by unnoticed. The Lady looked at the pair of broken humans, one had her body broken and the other with a broken soul. This job never got easier no matter how many times she had to do it.
“Rest easy my child, you have finished your journey.” With that The Lady used her sickle to reap the soul of the young girl. Taking her spirit by the hand they walked off together, the sick little girl and The Lady of Death
@tmanaking Your piece is good, but there were several/many grammar errors, and they detracted from the reading a tad. :3
Viewer/reader discretion advised, this one's a weeeee bit on the gory side.
"Igor, how many of your bretheren have died today?" Billy Bob Joe, ultimate super villian, looked out of the single remaining window of a previously massive stone brick tower. The grand spires were blown to shreds and pieces lay all around him. Flames crackled dangerously close to him. Somebody's body swung down from a burning tree as the rope they were hanged by snapped. Some demons were prodding the corpses of dead furries with crude spears.
"I don't know sir!" A massive lump of fresh waddled over to Billy on about 11 legs, speaking out of about 4 mouths, gesticulating with about 7 arms, and thrice as many hands. Various eyes rolled in various directions, although only a few made eye contact with Billy's. It seemed to pick new pieces of flesh from piles of what could possibly be called corpses, and constantly stiched them on, using whatever was handy at the time (Mouth, nostril, leg, ear, the possibilities were endless!).
"But I thought you creatures had a perfect memory and perfect counting abilities!" Billy grabbed a machete as it slid out of his sleeve. He wore a trench coat of a bright yellow color, a pink hoodie, and some green sweatpants. Kevlar covered everything that these items did not. His face was hidden behind the hood, and possibly some more kevlar. He believed that the key to high morale was bright colors and lots of body armor, and especially seeing their commander alive.
"Well, I could count the limbs sir! It just seems that Igors like rebuilding themselves and it seems that quite a few have mistaken my body parts for theirs. So naturally, I seem to have gained some... followers." As the conglomeration of bleeding, oozing limbs spoke these words, another arm eagerly stitched itself to the main, spherical lump, leaving a bit of a mess on the rug underneath. Luckily, the rug was already so stained that the blood would add nothing to the look, especially after drying. Though Billy would probably have to vacuum the livers that had spilled out.
"Well then, off you go! Go swim in the pit of baby hands, or just create another vortex through space-time if the first pool is full. Could always use more baby hands." Billy patted the growing mass of Igor, and then quickly wiped his hand off on a passing sinner skeleton example thing, as soon as Igor was out of sight.
He turned around to inspect his domain. He had been looking out at the oceans. The wonderful red oceans, turned so after he had disposed of his zombie legions in a massive blender. In hindsight, he should have ejected them out into space, because it seemed that the pesky giant mosquitoes were attracted by this, and boy, it took several shotgun blasts to take one of those buggers out. Billy took a mental note, Don't forget to set up anti-aircraft guns. The massive castle of the previous King of whatever this country was was quickly turned into a pile of rubble, and the aliens previously occupying it had scattered when the demons and Hellish beasts began chewing on them. The walls were surprisingly undamaged, standing sadly at the edge of the ruins of the city as a silent reminder that they didn't protect against portals, especially ones from Hell. Now what? He thought.
Across the street, by an abandoned gun store, a manhole opened. Some guys wearing rags and yet trying to look cool climbed out. Ah yes, a 'Resistance'. Billy thought, Fun! He pulled a gun out of one of the various pockets of his trench coat. He climbed out a window and jumped down to the street. The guys pulled some homemade guns out of their rags. Wow, and there's a gun store behind them. This'll be easy. He shot all of the loser Rebels in about 3 seconds. There were 6 of them, and he quickly went to work.
One of them was shot in the stomach, "HAVE MERCY UPON MY SO-" He proceeded to howl in pain, and Billy mercifully blew his head into small chunks. Hey, that's probably the nicest thing I've done to someone fighting against me in forever! He thought, spinning the pistol around his finger before firing a three-shot burst into the chest of another rag-clad warrior.
Fires burned around the battlefield, or slaughter, as some would call it, providing a nice ambience of the Hell quite literally going on around them. Someone rushed Billy, swinging a lead pipe vigorously.
Billy grabbed it, stopping it in midair, and laughed, "Oh man, you should have seen the look on your face!" He addressed the startled survivor, "Wow, I did not think that you people would be so dumb as to bum-rush ME, the ultimate super villian, and try and kill me with a blunt instrument. I mean, seriously?!" He continued chuckling as he filled the man full of bullet holes, emptying the clip. The startled expression would now be forever frozen on his face.
Somebody else charged Billy. He wielded a large broadsword. Billy threw the empty clip into the man's eyes, momentarily stopping him. He proceeded to reload and then use the simplest manuever ever, a roundhouse kick, to launch him into one of the random flaming pits that seemed to be popping up. I mean, I wanted to do a beatdown with my cleats, but that'll do. Speaking of which, I really need to sort out those pits, or at last cook something. I wonder why releasing Hell upon the Earth has so many consequences? Billy was curious.
The second-to-last one seemed to be firing an assault rifle at Billy. The bullets were flying a good deal over him. The Resistance fighters were trained surprisingly poorly. Billy didn't even bother, and just chucked the lead pipe at him. A satisfying CLONK rewarded him.
"Why are you doing this!?" The last man screamed, desperately. He seemed unarmed. Easy kill.
"Well, obviously I'm killing you pathetic noobs." Billy waved his pistol around.
"No, I mean, this!" The man cried out, pointing at the various things in the environment: Igor, rapidly growing in number of limbs, some strange giant red bat-dragon hybrid thing, spewing some sort of acid out of its mouth, zombies, cluelessly stumbling around, falling into spike pits and fire pits, as well as trolls, goblins (Mostly there to loot) and all sorts of other creatures, except for dragons. They had refused to come on the grounds that it was inhumane.
"Well, obviously because it's the simplest and most efficient way. I mean, I got this entire package for the low, low, price of, my soul! What a great deal. I mean, what do you even need a soul for?" Billy approached the man and grabbed him in a vicious choke hold, using only one hand, "Now, are you even going to fight back?"
"Well, gak, I kinda-gurgle-expected you to-urk-pleaseputmedown." The man decided to not get choked to death.
"Hmmm. Sure. I'm intrigued." Billy was genuinely intrested to hear this, and put the man down, "But, one movement, and your brains become that shop's new paint coating." He motioned at the gun store, that the man, in complete terror, had pressed up against.
"Well, we kinda wanted to improvise, you know, and not really fight you. We just kinda wanted to kill some zombies, get some loot, and you know, hope that you were some kind of generic nuerotic villian that would spend about 10 minutes talking about your plans and let us escape out of your grasp, and then we'd destroy you!" The man smiled, before realizing that he was talking to the "generic nuerotic villian" in question.
"Well, I'm more than that. I find that those movie cliche villians are losers. I mean, of course I'm a sadist, but that only encourages me!" Billy grinned maniacally.
"But why? Why did you take over?" The man practically squealed, trying to sink into the solid brick wall behind him.
"Well, it's rather obvious really." Billy Bob Joe stated calmly, "IT'S BECAUSE MY NAME IS BILLY BOB JOE, YOU DUMBASS!" The voice echoed. It echoed across the world. Hermit crabs, turtles, and snails everywhere attempted to hide in their shells.
"Eek. That is TERRIFYING!" The man wanted to say "pathetic", but even the most smooth-talking person would be just a little bit horrified of a giant bloodstained machete suddenly coming out from behind someone's back and pressing against their throat.
A few hours later, Billy finished redecorating. Man, there is still so much to do now that I took over! He thought, hanging the last of the small intestine over his castle made out of bone. What joy! He inspected his empire. Everything was now a shade of red, or at least orange or yellow. All of the Resistance was being feasted upon by undead, and now gremlins with wings had come with a fresh shipment of baby hands, and Billy could start work on his meat dragon statue!
A bit silly, I must admit, but I really enjoyed writing this one. I wonder why?
Wizzy why must you do dis to me??? T^T
There was not much comforting about David Estrada’s hospice room. The nuns who built the place centuries ago believed that those on the way to the afterlife should have as few distractions as possible, while praying for their immortal souls. Though the hospice had long since passed into (nominally) secular hands, the décor (rickety metal bed, plywood night stand and closet, empty grey walls) hadn’t changed much.
However, it wasn’t the emptiness of the place that unsettled David. It was the silence. Were it not for the whispered murmur from the nurses’ station down the hall – interspersed with the slowing staccato of an optimistic heart monitor - one could imagine being buried already.
A soft breeze made its way through the half-opened window, though it did little to expel the sweltering summer heat. A sliver of moonlight entered through the rustling blinds. For just a moment, David could make out the gaunt, claw-like hand – faintly resembling his own – that lay besides him. A plastic tube disappeared inside it, a clear fluid steadily dripped through.
Scarlet sputum bubbled up through David’s parched lips and dribbled onto his chin, but he couldn’t find the strength to wipe it off. The nurse would get it in the morning. Besides, nobody would see him like this anyway, nor any time soon. His son called last Sunday that he was too caught up in work to visit any time soon, but he wished him well. He’d call again soon. And dear Isabella… he should visit her grave again sometimes. Bring some carnations, she always loved those.
As tears started to well up behind them, David breathed deeply, and closed his eyes. The conversation in the hallway had since ended, and the wind outside died down. Even the beeping monitor beside him, and his softly dripping IV bag, seemed to slow down. Soft tears ran down his face. The silence of the grave returned to David’s room.
Suddenly, slowly, the faint sound of drums crept into the room, emanating from all directions at once. Trumpets sounded in the distance, sliding upwards as they strengthened. Before long, guitars and violins, pianos and tubas, and all the ringing plates of a xylophone, rushed into David’s room like a cacophonous whirlwind of life. Rock and jazz, classical and samba, gentle and raucous, all clashed, melodiously, filling David’s ears with an ocean of music. And when he barely could contain it all, David opened his eyes.
The light was blinding, yet David could not close his eyes. In front of him, from within the warm glow, a woman stepped forward. Her smooth skin seemed to shine brightly in the warm light, and her white dress appeared to shimmer with a thousand colours, swirling around in a waltz of life. Yet David did not feel frightened. Despite the skull-like mask the woman wore, despite the scythe she clutched in her hand, a feeling of peace, of comfort washed over him. As the woman beckoned him slowly, the music swelled to a crescendo.
Mary was almost done with her shift when she heard the alarm bells ring on the heart monitor in Mister Estrada’s room. Though she rushed there, she already knew what she would find. Though she had worked in the hospice for a few years now, Mary was still somewhat hesitant to enter Mister Estrada’s room. Not much was left of the man that was wheeled into the building those months earlier. His cheeks were sunken, and beneath his gown, the sharp contours of his ribs poked through his skin. But as Mary turned the heart monitor off, she could not help but notice his peacefully closed eyes, and the smile on his lips.
I apologize, but I'm going on a temporary hiatus.
There, there, little cow. Turkey will return soon enough.
:( What is a cow without turkey?
No problemo, mate; we all have to take breaks from time to time.
That's A-Ok, buddy, pal, chum, friend, bro, amigo. Breaks are needed every now and then for lots of us.
^ Yes. ^_^ mother mizal
Lol, you called her "Mother Mizal"
Should I be calling you something else too? >~< And "mother" is fitting. She can be harsh but helpful, direct but amusing. Y'know, like any decent mother.
Yes, mommy. :3
I've called End Pops and Papa before.
We're one big happy family.
No problem dude, do what you need to.
Back. Said it was temp. tbh it took a lot shorter than I thought it would, and the workload is much lighter now that ive adjusted :/
Anywho, gonna have something up on monday.
I was tempted to post a prompt in your honor if it took any longer. Glad to see you're back and still kicking. :D
Prompt in my honor? I would have been very, very honored if you had done that :)
And same. :D glad to have some free time once again.