It was starting to get late. With work tomorrow, and an obscene amount of writing waiting on her plate for the weekend, Lazim decides that it's for the best to go ahead and get some rest. She could get back to her browsing of Choice of Games tomorrow. With great reluctance she removes her hand from the laptop's touch pad and rubs her eyes. With a yawn Lazim stands up and begins to walk away from the computer.
A few steps and a weak will later Lazim found herself seated right back into the seat, and before the computer. The iconic Choice of Games home screen shone before her eyes. It wasn't that she was addicted to the site, no, she was simply staying up for the greater good. For what if somebody made a thread asking for writing advice? She was the site's go to when it came to well-thought out, thorough critiques, and she wasn't one to slack in her responsibility. So, she stayed up.
An hour passed, and still no one required writing advice. The only thread still active this late at night was an incessant one called, "How to stop our fall into bigotry: A CYS hate thread." Lazim ignored it though, for it was bound to contain an insurmountable amount hate and uselessness.
Yet, another hour passed and that golden thread asking for help didn't pop up. The fatigue was starting to get to her, and her thirst to post something was going unquenched. Therefore, she did something utterly out of character.
A solemn sigh escaped her lips. "I'll just wait until the next thread is created," she thought. "And I'll post in it regardless of what the thread is about."
She waited in dreadful anticipation to see what the next thread would be about. The feeling of finally being able to post coupled with finally being able to go ot sleep would be amazing. She stared at he screen and waited, then waited, and waited some more, but still nothing popped up. Morning rays were beginning to pour in through the windows of the darkness soaked room, and it was then that Lazim began to despair. She feared she wouldn't be able to give feedback, or go to sleep before she went to work.
Of course, it was then, when she didn't expect it to happen, that the next thread was created. Lazim never moved so fast in her life. She nearly broke the laptop's touchpad as she rushed to click the thread. Despite her absurd need to post in a thread, she failed to look at the title of the thread before opening it up and reading the opening message.
From the user: TheRighteousGrapefruit - "Who's your favorite god or goddess from any mythology?"
She stared at the nearly blank message. "Was that it? Surely, there was more..." Lazim thought as she frantically opened and reopened the thread to see if she wasn't just hallucinating. In the heat of, and because of her fatigue, she even lifted up her laptop and looked under it to see if TheRighteousGrapefruit left a secret message under there. There wasn't.
A heavy sigh breathed out of her. She wasted all of her precious sleep and feedback time just to see this measly sentence? for the first time in years Lazim felt anger surge through her veins, and she knew there had to be a way to get the feeling out somehow.
From the user: Lazim - "Is there one that smites lazy threads?"
Ha! That would surely show the peasant to make useless threads such as those. An eerie silence settled over her mind and room. What else was there to do now but sleep? Yet she stayed sitting in her comfy desk chair, for she unwittingly she brought a curious question to mind. Is there a god that smites lazy threads? She was actually kind of curious now, and there was only one friend she knew that might have the answer. Her only true friend. The one that got her through every high and low in her life. Google.
Is there a good that smites lazy threads? You wait eagerly for an answer.
Did you mean: EndMaster
Lazim's heart skipped a beat. Could there really be a god that held the key to her revenge upon, her most hated enemy, TheRighteousGrapefruit?
Hesitantly, she clicked.
___
"EndMaster. EndMaster. EndMaster. EndMaster." The chanting echoed through the now well lit study room. It was well into morning, and Lazim should have probably been at work, but she was doing something far more important.
Mini flames sat atop several candles, which, not coincidentally, were organized into a circle. Within that circle was a pentagram drawn with blood, and within that, sat Lazim. Her eyes were shut, and she bowed her face to the floor as she chanted.
The room began to darken amid the morning rays, and Lazim's chanting began to grow louder until she was nearly screaming.
"ENDMASTER, ENDMASTER, ENDMASTER."
With a sudden climax of sound and shadow, the room darkened to a pitch black color. Lazim couldn't see anything when she rose from her kneeling position save the white artificial glow of her laptop screen.
"Well, well. What do we have here?" The voice spoke from behind Lazim, and it she spun around to face it's owner.
A reaper stood facing her. Scythe and black cloak, and every stereotypical reaper item adorned it. Fear cloaked Lazim's previous determination and she nearly broke the ritual right then, but she persevered.
"I require your assistance, my liege, my king, my..." Lazim trailed off as she tried to think of another title.
"Master." He readily supplied.
"My Master. Something horrible has happened. A-A-A," Lazim stuttered, "A useless thread has been created." She spoke the words with reverential horror. Tears came to her eyes, and instead of continuing her explanation, she simply pointed to the computer screen on the other side of the room.
She watched as the reaper as he made his way across the room and looked at the laptop screen.
"This is grave indeed." The reaper's voice solemn as he contemplated the situation.
"So you'll be able to take care of it?" lazim asked hopefully.
"Yes, but at a price."
"Anything master."
"I'll first require your mother."
It was spoken with a seriousness that had no hint of joking in it. Lazim nodded. Her mother was getting old anyway.
"Next I'll need your soul. You will then become my servant, and scourge the unworthy at my kingdom of Cystia."
Lazim nodded again. She expected that much, but it was worth it to enact her revenge.
"Lastly, I require you to change your name in your frolicking on the internet."
Lazim hadn't expected that one, but it was still a worthy price.
"I now dub thee, mizal. Scourge of Cystia, and there is one more thing that will help you strike fear into the hearts of the unworthy."
"Yes anything, master.
Your name, mizal, will now and forever be spelled with a lowercase 'm.' "
Maniacal laughter filled the air and the reaper, and the thread along with it dissapeared leaving mizal brokenhearted on the floor of the room. Cursed to forever bear the lowercase letter, mizal immediately regretted the deal.
But it was too late.
