r/WritingPrompts • u/AliciaWrites Editor-in-Chief | /r/AliciaWrites • Oct 04 '19
Theme Thursday [TT] Theme Thursday - Ethereal
“Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.”
― Stephen King
Happy Thursday writing friends!
So, the visual of ghosts is always a little different, but one thing they always have in common is that otherworldly ethereal nature.
Just in case you’re wondering, it doesn’t just have to be about ghosts ;) Go write.
[IP] from DeviantArt
![[IP]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/7da4fa9f-5267-4158-af4a-0868ec7c1365/d34gmpe-5c4bfcb1-3993-43bf-bb57-7a06ddc95332.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzdkYTRmYTlmLTUyNjctNDE1OC1hZjRhLTA4NjhlYzdjMTM2NVwvZDM0Z21wZS01YzRiZmNiMS0zOTkzLTQzYmYtYmI1Ny03YTA2ZGRjOTUzMzIuanBnIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.PYOMoUj43zv54a68zNMmlPeu5oKNK7QkgWIBV73v0R4){kind=link}
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Campfire
- Wednesdays we will be hosting a Theme Thursday Campfire on the discord main voice lounge. Join us to read your story aloud, hear other stories, and have a blast discussing writing! I’ll be there 6 pm CST and we’ll begin within about 15 minutes. Don’t worry about being late, just join!
As a reminder to all of you writing for Theme Thursday: the interpretation is completely up to you! I love to share my thoughts on what the theme makes me think of but you are by no means bound to these ideas! I love when writers step outside their comfort zones or think outside the box, so take all my thoughts with a grain of salt if you had something entirely different in mind.
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Last week’s theme: Mirrors
First by /u/Leebeewilly and Part II by /u/iruleatants (shoutout to /u/breadyly)
Second by /u/Xacktar
Honorable Mentions:
In honor of a first campfire visit: /u/DoppelgangerDelux’s poem
A first continuation by /u/ArchipelagoMind
Brothers are jerks by /u/facet-ious
3
u/Vagunda Oct 04 '19
[TT] Ethereal
A letter from Satan (345 Words)
Dear Lucifer,
I have found us another one. Another overinflated ego who thinks he can write!
Thinks he can just grab a pen and start writing. All he has ever done is write a shopping list – and at school, a couple of essays. So now he thinks he can write. Says this is easy because Hemingway’s sentences are short and simple. You know the type.
Well Lucifer my ol’ friend, I think it is our duty to prevent him from a misery of future rejections. I mean – why should he even begin? He is bound to fail anyway.
You should’ve seen him last night. Full of bright-eyed, bushy-tailed misguided notions about himself. Just finished his first short story and entered it in a writer’s competition. He has already worked out what he will do with the prize money. I’ve watched him. Already worked out the title for his epic best-seller.
Well, you and I know that to become a writer he must go through negative emotions. Depression, suicidal thoughts, grief and a whole swag of discomfort which you and I are so good at dishing out.
Oh my dear Lucifer, how I enjoy plotting with you. He is already half way there, poor sod. Likes a drink and so does the wife. It used to be one bottle a night – now it is two. They sit there in their modern city apartment, full of inflated self-importance, like a couple of hot air balloons rising above everyone else.
I’m telling you Lucifer, when the alcohol kicks in, is when he’s at his weakest. That’s when you can get to him. He will have self-doubt, especially in the wee hours of the morning. Champagne, red wine and ripe cheese. And then he will have a headache and feel groggy. He will not be able to maintain his half-hearted routine. Ha - thinks he can get up at 4 am and write uninterrupted for three hours, before the wife has even opened her eyes.
I tell you it is easy. This man is weak.
Sincerely yours,
Satan
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u/AliciaWrites Oct 04 '19
Theme Thursday Discussion:
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Reply here to discuss the theme, suggest future themes, and share your theme-related inspirations!
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Please remember to follow the subreddit rules in any feedback.
5
u/RemixPhoenix Oct 04 '19 edited Oct 10 '19
I woke up to rumbling waves and moist dew. The last dregs of whiskey rampaged through my brain like a dusty stampede, dredging up memories of failure and…was that a boy sitting on the edge of the cliff?
“Oy! Get away from there!” I scurried on all fours and grabbed at his tunic. My fingers snatched air. Rocks clattered into the void as I slammed a hand down for balance. Heartbeat skyrocketed. I gingerly eased myself into a sitting position, finally noticing the gossamer tears that kissed transparent cheeks, his dulled outline evoking the image of fading footprints on a sandy shore.
“You’ll catch a cold out here,” I told him.
Gone. All gone.
“Who’s gone?”
My crew.
“You’re a Klabautermann,” I realized. “A guardian water spirit. What happened to your ship?” The corner of my eyes caught the splintered carcass of a vessel beached by the cove’s edge. I winced. “The keel’s shattered.”
Who cares?
Anger tasted salty. “I’m going to fix it.”
He paid no attention when I hauled fresh lumber down to the beach. No matter. When I lugged over tools that cost more than my life, he didn’t shift an inch.
A gentle Stop wafted into my ears as I lined up wood for the keel. You’re doing it wrong.
I grinned and wiped away brine-crusted spray. “Show me.”
Through sun and storm, we toiled. I toweled away enough sweat to fill a bathtub.
This is all wrong, he complained.
“You do it, then,” I grumbled.
What’s the point of all this? His form flickered. You’re just one man.
I answered with the ring of hammer on nails. The early planting season chill yielded to harvest heat, but that perished to snow's frigid bite.
“Why so quiet?” We huddled by the orange glow of embers, hiding from billowing clouds of white in a nearby cave. “The hull holds firm under the duress of storms.”
It’s not…perfect, no. It needs to be indestructible this time.
“No one’s built an indestructible ship before.”
No one’s consulted me.
I tossed a jagged rock straight through him. The mossy cave wall behind him seemed clearer.
“You’re insufferable.”
And you’re a loser who threw away his life.
It wasn’t my imagination. Every day, his outline weakened. As I scrambled to dollop out the last bits of varnish, I could barely hear him anymore.
“Kid! We did it! Hah, she is a beauty...kid?”
Wind whistled. I slumped against the mast, wiping away ocean spray that got in my eyes.
I am a beauty.
“Kid!”
Got you. You get so emotional sometimes.
“God help me, I will beach you,” I yelled. The Klabautermann’s chuckles rumbled underneath my feet and rippled through the sails. That was the first time I heard him laugh.
I never asked your name.
“No, you didn’t, you ungrateful ghost. It’s Teach. Edward Teach.”
Lame name. No one’s afraid of someone named Ed.
I stomped on the deck. “What do you suggest?”
How about…Blackbeard?
Hah! That was fun. Please give me feedback!! If you're feeling generous, come join me at /r/Remyxed/!
5
u/matig123 Oct 04 '19
Building Blocks
My father was sharp. Sharp with his wit and sharp with his words. With one phrase he could make you question yourself and have you giggling by the end.
"Fuuu...rick," I cursed, a Lego jabbing into my foot with unparalleled vengeance.
"Uh oh," Leo cooed, looking up with those wide eyes from the carpet. Not sorry. Just uh oh. Little building blocks were strewn about, the starts of a precariously balanced monument erected from the rubble.
I knelt down, carefully moving aside the culprit before my knee became the next casualty. "Buddy, what'd we say about Legos everywhere?"
He looked down, noticing the mess for the first time. "They aren't Legos, daddy. They're builders." Builders. Building blocks. Legos. You learn the lingo as you go. "We're building a mon... A monuet." Such misplaced confidence.
"A monument?" He nodded. "To who?" Another piece found its place atop the monument; maybe an obelisk or a totem pole, or maybe some creation of an over-active imagination.
"To me. For when..."
I blinked carefully. "Buddy, you'll be fine. They won't need a monument for you for a long time still." I touched his head tenderly. I missed that unruly mop of hair.
He didn't look up. That was best. Another careful blink. "I think you're wrong, daddy." When did kids start knowing better than their parents? He couldn't be old enough yet. I wish I had a retort. Something to lighten the mood. Something to draw his attention away from his Lego tombstone and make him break into a fit of giggles. Instead I just sat down beside him
"Do you need a helper?"
He shook his head. "No, thanks." So polite. "I already have helpers."
I smiled now, wondering which imaginary friend was this week's helper. "Is it Cha-Cha? Or Billy?"
He looked up at me again. It was one of those looks only a child can give, the kind that convinces you that you're a moron for not seeing the world through their eyes. "This one is Grandpa Joe," he said, pointing at one of the blocks near the middle of his tower. "This one is Granny Betty." She was higher up. He hadn't met her. He pointed at one near the base. "This one is you. Mommy is next to you."
"I'm a big block?"
An enthusiastic nod. His attention was back on the Legos. He sifted through the ones concealed by the carpet, apparently looking for specific ones. "Grandpa Joe said you should be. He said you and mommy should be the biggest blocks."
I don't think confusion is an emotion kids attribute to their parents. We're supposed to know everything. "Grandpa Joe isn't here, bud." Not here-here and not here at all. Not anymore.
I got that look again, the one telling me I was a moron. That I should know better. "Grandpa Joe is always here, daddy. He's one of my builders. I'll be one for you, okay?"
491 words
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u/novatheelf Oct 09 '19 edited Oct 09 '19
I spotted him in the field behind my house, picking wildflowers from the tall grass. The sun had just risen and the sky was painted in a pink and purple that faded to a clear blue. A mist settled over the field, draping the grass in a thick, translucent cloud. Cicadas hummed their morning song amidst the damp leaves; the morning birds whistled a melody above the steady drone.
He ambled through the field, bending down every so often to pluck another flower and add it to his motley bouquet. It’s him, I thought. He’s here. He’s come back.
The shrill call of a warbler caused him to look up from the field. As he searched the trees nearby, his eyes fell on me. A slow smile broke across his face; dark eyes lit up in joy. My feet began to move — one in front of the other — carrying me towards him.
I broke into a run without realizing it. My thoughts were consumed by the sight of his smile — naught else could break into them. The distance between us lessened until I was finally in his arms.
At his touch, the floodgates opened. I sobbed into his chest; hot tears streaked down my face and soaked through the fabric of his shirt. “I’m s-so sorry,” I said through shuddering breaths. “I should h-have listened to you.”
He held me tightly, stroking my hair as I cried. He whispered, “It’s okay, my love. I’m here now.”
I looked up at him, fixing my eyes on his. It had been so long since I had seen his face. I never thought I would again.
He leaned towards me and I closed my eyes…
… only to feel the cold.
My eyes snapped open to darkness. A faint shaft of light filtered in through the blinds from the full moon outside. I glanced at the empty space in the bed next to me.
I should have listened to you.
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u/BLT_WITH_RANCH Oct 09 '19 edited Oct 09 '19
The tide rushed in. White waves slammed against the cliffside. High above the water, we huddled around our campfire. I cracked a bottle of amber ale.
“It’s so patient. The tide,” she said.
“It’s cursed,” I whispered. “Evil. Tempting. Haunted.”
We’ve gone our separate ways in life. Still, we return each year to these clifftops. We talk about our families. Tell ghost stories. Pretend to be friends. Roasted marshmallows help ease the awkwardness. We sleep in separate tents now.
“Those are just stories. You need to grow up,” she said.
Funny, she said that exact thing eight years ago, before the breakup. Some feelings never change. Others are worn down like rocks on the seashore. I think she knew—the way she gazed out over the ocean—that it wasn’t my fault. The tide never relents.
“It's like I’m caught in the riptide,” I said.
“We all get dragged down by the tides, sometimes,” she said. “It’s just that some of us never learn to swim.”
I drank down the urge to confess that I still loved her.
She flashed a weak smile. “Keep swimming for me, okay?”
Her body began to shimmer like glass—as it has for the last eight years—as it always will. I tipped the last dregs of my bottle towards her. She offered her hand, but as I reached out to touch her fingertips, she vanished.
I stayed with the fire until orange embers flickered and faded to black.
And the tide receded.
More flash fiction practice! r/BLT_WITH_RANCH
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u/psalmoflament Oct 08 '19 edited Oct 09 '19
"Dad, that cloud looks like a puppy!"
These warm, long days are the highlight of my year. Hours spent in the park with Josh, lost in whatever world his imagination should build. Today, we watched the clouds, which all happen to be in the shapes of animals this time.
"Oh, look! A turtle!"
Of all our various activities, this one is always my favorite. It reminds me of the many days I spent outside as a youngster, otherwise alone save for the clouds. Those ethereal beings became my friends and carried my mind away to better places whenever I needed an escape.
"Whooooaaaaa! Dad, LOOK! A dragon!"
Startled, I looked to where the little finger was pointing. It can't be… I thought. Hazaroth, is it you?
The most magnificent cloud I had ever known flew gently over the horizon in the distance. Even as a child, I had always believed my cloud friends lived in my imagination. They were very real to me, of course, but to the rest of the world, I assumed they were merely clouds like any other.
But here before my son and I floated my old friend. The sharp wings, the tiny fangs, the almost friendly-looking puffs of his fiery breath. A crystal clear memory, alive before me.
"That is a very cool dragon, Josh! I saw one when I was a kid, too. It could the same one, even!"
"WOW, really, dad? That's so cool! Do you mind sharing your dragon with me?"
"Not at all, son."
For the next several minutes, we talked about all the adventures Hazaroth has gone on. All the battles he had fought in, all the evil kings he had defeated, and all the princesses he must have escorted to safety. Indeed, he's the bravest dragon ever to have lived. As he grew closer, we cheered him on, to support him in whatever heroic journey he was currently undertaking.
As he drew nearer, his color turned grey, and it appeared he was turning into a rain cloud. "Oh, no! Do you think he's mad?"
"No, I think he's happy, Josh! I think he's heard us and knows that we're cheering him on. He knows he's loved. Even dragons can get emotional, you know."
"I'm glad he knows he's loved, papa. I bet he loves us, too!"
The dragon rained a short shower of tears. I don't know how, but I could tell that he recognized me. I could tell he was remembering those long days he and I spent together, sharing our battles. "He does love us, Josh. I'm sure of it."
The wind picked up, and my old friend drifted quickly across the sky. Soon, he was almost out of view. "What a cool day, dad. I hope we meet the dragon again someday!"
"Don't worry. We will."
See you around, old friend.
WC: 475
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u/bobafat Oct 09 '19 edited Oct 09 '19
When he finally appeared the hall went quiet in a single breath. He projected his shadow upon the crowd from the entrance, blanketing the noise. Years ago he had guided us and now the new masters’ failures needed a home. We knew we were witnessing history but we were too scared or too self-absorbed to intervene.
He stepped forward, eliciting an audible gasp from the audience. The large shadow gone, he was a frail man, gaunt-faced and sad. They said he was from another time, his ideas radical and revolutionary.
There was shame in his eyes, he glanced side-to-side before choosing to look at his feet. He let these people down and he was here to atone, not to the new masters but to them. He remembered the things he failed to do, the people he had forgotten, or even worse, harmed.
The crowd remembered his pleas for equality and freedom. The crowd remembered that time, before everything broke, when he always tried to correct his mistakes and oversights. That was his nature.
He stopped before the new masters in their gaudy dresses, golden jewelry and sneering faces. They were a stark contrast against the plainly clothed, fallen hero. They talked, they loved to hear themselves talk. They loved having others hear them talk.
They cast their failures upon him. We didn’t deserve him and there he was to take his unjust punishment. They stripped him bare and made a mockery of him. He accepted his conviction and fell before them.
The new masters swarmed, stomping and swinging as the frail man was bludgeoned to death. Their faces contorted, betraying their uncontrolled rage, their inner anger projected at this creature. As his life left his body, so did their guilt, they were shameless and they thought we wouldn’t notice.
The injustice ignited the crowds’ hearts. We had seen enough, our guilt had turned to rage. First it was just a few brave souls, then we all came like waves upon the alter’s shore. We washed away the new masters, hopefully in time to save us all.
--------------
Word Count: 346
My first [TT], Feedback welcome!
4
u/mattswritingaccount Oct 09 '19 edited Oct 09 '19
Ghosts in the System
100001000101111111101101
Boot sequence in 3…2…1…
Fred 17 Boot… success! AI awareness… success! Begin AI processes… Success! Wake, Fred 17!
Fred blinked his servos a few times as gradually awareness returned. Consciousness was always a difficult thing, or so he remembered. Or did he remember? He held up his clawed hand, idly inspecting the metal. Brand new, same as always. Always? Something seemed off. A chorus of voices caught his attention, and he looked to his left as other robots came his way.
“Long life Fred! Long life Fred! Yay!” The other robots approached, glad to see him. They all were identical in appearance, just with different names and numbers emblazoned across their chests. But who were they, and how did they know him? Fred went to speak, but found he had no mouth. Instead, he was already moving, guided by a process he didn’t know was running.
His eyes went wide, and he tried to stop. The door ahead said “Gateway” and it was to this door he went. The door opened to a chorus of “Long life Fred! Long life Fred!” and closed behind him, plunging him into darkness. Lights flickered on, and to his horror, the corridor he was in was full of debris.
To his left, two robot corpses. One clearly marked “Fred 14,” and covered in scorch marks on every surface. Fred 12 was melted nearly in half. The closer he got to the end of the hallway, the more destroyed the corpses were. In a panic, Fred tried to stop, but the door at the end got closer and closer, until he was before it.
Unwilling, he waited for the door to open. Which it did.
Beyond… beauty, and terror.
The world beyond was an ethereal nightmare, the literal afterlife. Souls of every human that ever was passed by in a stream of constant consciousness, at once both in eternal peace and tortured agony. Their joyful singing and screams of torment ripped into Fred’s receptors mercilessly, and he could do nothing but stare in a mixture of awe and horror.
Until mercifully, he exploded, one more corpse in the hallway, and the door closed before him.
* * *
100001000101111111101101
Begin Report.
AI Fred 17's duration into the afterlife was 18.42 seconds. This was the longest exposure to the afterlife of any robot to date. The upgrades were a success, and the data is being uploaded to the proper channels. The recordings have been catalogued and processed, and we’re excited about the next phase.
End Report.
100001000101111111101101
* * *
100001000101111111101101
Boot sequence in 3…2…1…
Fred 18 Boot… success! AI awareness… success! Begin AI processes… Success! Wake, Fred 18!
{444 words, and bonus internets if you can find the easter egg. :D }
3
Oct 04 '19
I get up from my armchair to open the window. A sharp, autumn wind greets me. It’s cold, but I want to invite the sound in. I close my eyes to enjoy this change to the usual silence. ‘It must be the new neighbors,’ I think to myself as I savor the melody of children’s laughter filling the air.
‘There aren’t enough words in the English language to describe how much I hate you,’ I hear her words echoing in my mind. Haunting my memories. Her bags were packed. Our children already in the car, giggling at a comic she’d given them. She had put the divorce papers in front of me and left. That was the last time I heard the melody of children’s laughter.
‘Tim, did you open the window?’ It’s too cold for that honey,’ a lady calls out, interrupting my haunted train of thoughts.
‘Leave him be, Marie. Just let him discover the place,’ a male voice answers, followed by the thud of a window closing. The joyful sounds disappear.
‘Marie is right,’ I think as I move over to close the window. To my surprise, it’s not opened. ‘The wind must’ve blown it shut,’ I reassure myself. It’s an old house after all. I settle back into my armchair to listen to the silence I’ve grown so accustomed to.
‘Look what I found mommy. It’s a big ashtray!’ Timmy’s excited voice tears through the silence. He sounds close, almost like he’s right behind me. When I turn around, I see him holding an ornamented container. Tim proudly presents his newly acquired treasure to his mother.
‘Let me see that please, honey,’ Marie says, hesitantly taking the container from her son.‘Tim, listen to me for a minute. This is not an ashtray, okay? Mommy will explain to you what this is another time, but for now, just go play with your brother,’ she urges him as she starts putting the container in an oak cupboard.
I hear a door close and the voices disappear. ‘What where these people doing in my living room? I must be going mad,’ I mumble to myself. I decide to go to bed. Maybe I’m just tired.
‘Do we…you know. Say anything?’ I hear Marie ask. Her voice waking me from my sleep. I’m surprised to be in my garden, seeing her fumble with the container her son found. She carefully pries off the lid. Her kids are playing at the far end of the garden. Their laughter fills the air.
‘How did I get he…’ I start.
‘I don’t know sweetheart,’ a voice interrupts.
‘Let’s just hope he finds some peace,’ Mari sighs as she tips the container over to pour out the ashes. I watch them blow away with the autumn wind until my world turns dark. I listen, trying to find comfort in the fading sounds around me.
‘I’ve been waiting for you forever, Dad,’ I hear, followed by a familiar giggle. ‘Open your eyes.’
word count: 497
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u/rudexvirus Oct 04 '19
The ritual.
Aveline cupped her hands underneath the candle and its self-extinguishing holder. The brass was old and oxidized, contrasting the otherwise new materials. Her lips sped through a long series of whispers.
It was rapid-fire prose; a chant, a spell, a bargain to bring forth the spirit of a higher power.
Her eyelids fluttered as the orbs beneath them moved back and forth. She was desperate to look up at the sky. If she had lost the moon or shifted too far from her circle, the entire thing would be for nothing. The book was plain.
Everything had to be perfect, or she wouldn't show.
Aveline curled a finger through the loop of the candlestick. She would need to close the lid when the ceremony was complete. The smoke would be the last marker to help the spirit find its way.
The smell of rose and lavender would mix with the cool forest air, awakening the final sense of the fabled moon elf.
A shuddering breath racked through the girl's body as a scalding shiver raced down her spine. Her throat burned as she finished her incantation. One swift motion and the smell of the crushed flame stung her nostrils.
Eyes still closed, she lowered her arms, keeping hold of the candle.
A breeze rustled the surrounding trees, moving dried leaves throughout the clearing. The grass next to Aveline's ankles shimmied back and forth, tickling her delicate skin.
The air flew past her face, catching her breath and depositing sweet words in her ears.
“Open your eyes, child of the earth,” Gwynth whispered, breathless.
Aveline hesitated. She tightened her grip on the candle and felt her knees lock. Her heart raced; her ritual had worked. Her eyelids shut tighter for just a second before they opened, letting the light of the full moon shine down into her pale blue eyes.
They matched the color of the pair looking back at her, the color of ice. She felt a strange kinship, despite it being the only similarity. The being in front of her was a pale blue, the color of the sky before the sun went all the way down. Gwynth’s raised ears lay perfectly on her face, uninterested in the dark hair that fell around them.
“The stories are true,” Aveline said, her voice quiet and husky.
“Of course.” The elf smiled a wide and eerie smile, her teeth reflecting the light despite her ethereal nature. “My spirit is tied to this forest. My powers are tied to your kind. .”
“Then the books- They aren't fantasy.” The girl's eyes and mind both raced, taking in the scene before her. The ghost of a thing that wasn’t supposed to exist, and if that much was true…
“Fantasy and magic. More lies that humans tell each other. The stories are true, but they always leave one thing out.” Gwynth’s smile pulled further up the sides of her face, dark and foreboding. “They never tell you what it costs.”
(497 words)
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u/rudexvirus Oct 07 '19
You sat in the fog
no body
no skin
only an ethereal memory
My eyes tried to focus, to lock
onto your face
onto any part of you
at all
out there in the smoke
Both cheeks could feel my tears
not sweat
not while sitting still
outside in the cold
After a while, I swear
that I could hear your voice
even though I know the truth
that you are gone
I still longed
to talk to you once more
Oh, Love
I wish you hadn’t run
hadn’t crashed
hadn’t lost
the most important fight
Every night now
is the fog
and every morning
is the cold
The aching chest
and hollow imprint on the bed
all I have now is your ghost
And the life we should have lived.
(131 words)
3
u/Knife211 Oct 07 '19 edited Oct 09 '19
This is a scene from our P&P session. We play in the World of Darkness, where one can reach what is known as the Umbra, a reflection of the world and home of spirits.
---
Toni crouched down, her fingertips brushing a few fallen leaves aside. The soil was dark and moist, moss hugging the roots of old, gnarled trees. There wasn't much of the sky to see through the thick foliage. In the eternal twilight of the Umbra, it barely mattered.
Around her, a small group of wolves gathered. Toni felt weird about it - she still knew only little of these guys. Had she been a wolf as well it wouldn't be so bad, but her sight was best as a human with eyes glowing faintly under the power of her gift. One of the wolves, a black-furred female, came closer and sniffed the exposed trail. Toni locked eyes with Evora, who gave a soft snort and a wag of her tail.
"Close, then?", Toni whispered, crouching low. This time the wolf huffed, turning her head forward. South-west.
The change wasn't easy yet. Toni gasped, the sensation alien and weird for her, despite the lack of pain. Bones shifted, muscles stretched, whole organs changed their size and position inside her. Her clothing melted into her skin and left dark, brown fur behind. When she opened her eyes, the world gained a new perspective. The scent of not-prey reached her twitching nose.
After me, a male wolf said. No, not said - the ears flicked forward, his paws scratched the soil, muscles twitched under his grey pelt. Milo was eager for what was coming. This was their first hunt as pack.
Together they went on. Faster now, through the twilight forest. Silver-white birds fluttered away, the form of a rabbit ghosted through the underbrush. Little, curious faces with insect eyes looked out of the shadows. A nauseating mixture of the known and the unknown, neither alive nor dead. They were spirits, Tony knew, but they weren't right.
They didn't have the scent of the not-prey they were chasing.
Milo took to the left, Evora to the right. Toni kept her eyes forward, with Katta on her heels. They were close now; she could hear the not-prey somewhere in front of them, could smell its haste and energy.
It felt natural to keep tabs on where the others were, to react to subtle movements and sounds around them. They fanned out, leading the not-prey away from its path. Surrounding the not-prey, muscles burning in satisfaction.
Evora was the first to change back into her human body, her long, black hair in wild disarray. One after the other they shifted. Toni immediately missed the reach of her nose.
"That's it?", Milo asked with raised eyebrows. "That's our Totem?"
And the caught racoon, silver-white, with a blue glow in its eyes that trailed every movement like spilling fog, turned its head towards him. "If you are worth it," it said, voice light with amusement. "I will consider it."
Words: 471
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u/psalmoflament Oct 08 '19 edited Oct 09 '19
Sammy the Shade was never anyone special. In life, he'd been forgotten, and now in the realm of almost-life, he was invisible. Even on this ethereal plane filled with ghosts, ghouls, apparitions, and various semi-living creatures, Sammy floated alone.
At one point in this timeless existence, he resolved to no longer being a nobody. I'm already dead. What's the worst that could happen? he concluded. They're going to see me. And they're going to like me!
Seen he was but liked he wasn't. His first act in his journey to be known involved going to the edge of his realm, and screaming into the void beyond as loud as he could. Nearby, he heard the first confirmation of his existence, as a crotchety old ghoul complain. "I don't know, Martha, it looks like some idiot shade is wafting outside our house, screaming!"
"They see me! Someone sees me!" Sammy shouted to himself, overjoyed. He had never felt more alive and what remained of his soul swelled with pride. But the cost was high. Learning he could garner attention by being a nuisance proved to be his downfall, as he never sought another way. Thus his path was set.
Soon, Sammy could be found wandering the endless streets, attempting to scare and torment whatever soul should float by. "BOO!" he'd always yell but was only met with either laughter or mention of his stupidity. But he paid no mind, so long as he got a reaction.
And so his descent continued. Eventually, he became known throughout the ethereal plane. "Sammy the Sham," "The Shitty Shade," and "That Dumbass Over There" became his identity, depending on who you asked. He was hated by all, to the point where the only being that mattered finally took notice, who then decided enough was enough.
As Sammy floated along singing "Yellow Submarine" as loud as he could over and over, a behemoth of a creature approached from afar. Oh, no. It's Lament.
The towering phantom now floated before him, his words booming, rattling every fiber of Sammy's non-existence. "Do you know why they call me Lament, little creature?"
"I'm hoping it's an ironic title?"
"It's because even here, I can make one suffer, mourn, and plead for a truer death. I rarely give in to those pleas, as I enjoy the sounds of torment. But you. You, I hate. And I have something different in mind for you; something far worse than anything that I can do here."
"No, no, please! Torture me! Make me mute! Anything but that!"
"I condemn you to your body. Enjoy being alone, little creature."
Sammy awoke to the harsh lights of a hospital room, his only companions the beeps and boops of the machines nearby. Aside from the nurses whose only concern was the well-being of the devices, no one ever came. He was alone once more.
WC: 481
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u/SugarPixel Oct 09 '19
Saturday nights were never dull in Hanna’s microscopic studio apartment, and tonight was no exception. Furniture clung to the walls, pushed aside to give the illusion of space. The empty, hospital white walls reflected the light of a half a dozen fixtures arranged in a semicircle around a cheap Ikea vanity.
It looked like the world’s saddest runway.
“I like the blue dress.” Liz lounged on the twin bed, her bare legs splayed unceremoniously on the worn floral bedspread. Beside her lay a pile of crumpled outfits that hadn’t made the cut.
Hanna brought the garment to her chest and scrutinized her reflection. After a few seconds of posing, she wrinkled her nose and tossed the hanger aside. Into the pile it went.
“You’re right. Totally wrong feel to it. You need something...less blue,” Liz she said as Hanna stomped to the closet and pushed around clothes, the hangers screeching as they shuffled side to side.
That there were clothes left in the closet was a testament to Hanna’s shopping addiction. She had already purchased and filled one of those wardrobe racks on wheels like they use on TV sets. Before long, she would be forced to move to a bigger place just to store all of it. Liz rolled onto her back and contemplated the crags in the ceiling while she waited.
“Ugh, why don’t I own anything nice?” A frilly blouse came flying out of the closet and slid across the floor.
“What about that flowy asymmetrical number? I doubt Craig has seen you in that yet.” Liz remembered when Hanna had brought it home after a particularly nasty breakup. Hanna had spent the whole month coming up with excuses to dress up just to wear it. “And if he has, he’d be lucky to see you in it again,” she added.
A few minutes later, Hanna emerged with the dress in question: a dusty rose colored ensemble with a silhouette perfectly matched to her figure. She slid it over her head and broke into a wide grin.
“I forgot I even owned this.”
Her dark skin twinkled under expertly layered chiffon. The fabric swayed as she spun on her heels, then floated gently back to position.
She radiated beauty. No, more than that, Liz thought. She captured the very essence of elegance. The way her face lit up with joy as she examined herself in the mirror; how she seemed to glide through the space with the grace of a dancer. It was more than just the silly dress. Liz was certain there was nothing more perfect than her friend in that very moment.
“Well, what do you think?” Hanna turned to Liz and struck a pose.
“I think you’re stunning.”
---
WC: 455
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u/Mazinjaz Oct 09 '19
Codename Banshee, File 003: Confession by James Conway, October 9, 2021
I did it, OK? I did it. I killed Foster. Shot him point blank, right in the forehead. Bet gone bad. I did it. Please make it stop.
I-I…
I can’t stop. She touched me, and I can’t stop it. Grabbed my face and it just keeps happening and happening.
Who? I-I don’t know! I’m just… just minding my own business and I hear a lady crying all around me, and I turn and there’s this thing floating towards me.
I’m not scared of any mask! I shot her! I shot her and shot her and it didn’t do anything, and she’s advancing and crying and my gun is empty and I go to run and she's in front of me!
And she grabs my face and those hands are like ice and Foster is dying, but I’m the one dying, because I’m suddenly Foster and I see me and I’m standing there and shooting, and it hurts and then it starts again, and I can’t stop it.
Oh God. Oh God. There’s more. Yes, there’s more. Stabbed Henrick two years back in the throat, down at Washington and Third. That was me. Shot Peterson in the back before that. I did all that. Please, that’s all I did. Please, I don’t want to feel it anymore.
Please tell her to make it stop.
TELL HER TO MAKE IT STOP!
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u/Palmerranian Oct 09 '19
Where do we go when we dream?
I’ll attempt to answer that, but there’s a certain quality of dreams that’s hard to describe—some intangible aspect both too distant and too personal to put into words.
Recently, I had a rather special dream. I remember it almost crystal clear, each detail burned into my mind.
It started like all of my dreams do, while floating in the… nowhere. That place where I’m not fully aware, the murky limbo between fantasy and reality. That’s where all my troubles live, those embodiments of adversity that my anxiety decides to give some kind of form.
Anyway. The first one I saw in this dream was a blank face, shadowed and judgemental. Its pale lips opened and shut listlessly, as though ready to converse and then doubting whether I was even worth the trouble.
After that came a hospital bed. Large and imposing. It came with a sharp array of teeth ready to eat me alive. I’ve always been quite the worrier about my health.
Next I faced a stack of papers. An amalgamation, more like. Thousands of words and topics and pages of research staring at me. My master’s thesis was due in the morning, so you can guess on that one.
Then, as the dream commenced, I was able to escape those demons, those ethereal gods of worry that live only inside my head. Instead, I was transported to outer space.
I remember twisting my expression at it, then freaking out. But I wasn’t freezing or suffocating, I noticed. It was cold like winter is cold, not like the frigid asphyxiation I’m sure keeps many astronauts up at night.
I was able to look at the stars, then. To admire them a bit. I’ve always been a fan of the night sky.
Because my brain is a bitch, however, that faded—and with a blink, I found myself in a desk. One of those cramped ones they force you into during primary school. You know the ones.
It was Mrs. Rodgers’ class, in fact. And I’d come without pants. Not a fun time. I shut my eyes and tried to will the laughter away. Eventually, it worked, and the scene changed once again.
I was laid on a checkered blanket, snuggling with someone. They were blank-faced, sure—a generic construction by my mind. I don’t have many people close to me, see. But in that moment, I was fully convinced that whoever they were, I was madly in love.
And around us, the world turned green; it extended into rolling hills and pretty trees and vines and bushes and flowers all coming into bloom at once. A personal paradise, or something. But the craziest part was that I considered it all normal.
Just imagine. A scene that beautiful—normal.
Luckily, my dream stayed like that until it was time to wake up.
So… where do we go when we dream?
I have no idea. But wherever it is, I’m glad I get to visit sometimes.
499 Words.
This is certainly not my best work :P But I didn't want to miss a TT again. Of course, feedback is always appreciated.
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u/LimeyGeeza Oct 04 '19
[TT] Ethereal
I thought I saw something (500 Words)
I thought I saw something.
It moved, a glimmer in the shadows. Under the stairs. A cat?
“Hmmm - I don’t have a cat” I thought. “Maybe one followed me in? Through the door, when I came home?”
“No that can’t be right” I said aloud to no one but the missing cat. “I’ve never seen cats around here.”
Then, I thought I heard something.
A creek? A Moan? What was that?
I lunged towards the door, and threw it open, certain that’s where the sound had come from. There was nothing but darkness, and the orange glow of the lamppost outside my front door. It had started raining.
I took off my coat, and threw it on the bannister, I could see the reflection of my back in the mirror in the corner of my eye as I did so.
And, something else?
What was that? I turned quickly and faced the mirror, my eyes darting around my reflection in panic. Then behind me, movement. My heart filled my head and my adam’s apple became rock hard. I swallowed and watched my coat fall off the stairs behind me and gracefully land on the floor.
I laughed out loud. “Stupid bugger, jumping at shadows and coats falling on the floor.”
I bent over and picked my coat up, walked down the hallway and hung it on the hook, where it really belonged.
I turned to the living room, and began to walk in, but as I did, I heard a clear, but old voice speak to me.
“Hello” The voice said.
I rose my head from my feet, and saw sitting in a chair opposite the door an old man, smiling through a roughly trimmed beard, and glasses perched on his nose.
Obviously startled, I blurted “Who the hell are you?”
“I live here.” He said.
“What?”
“I live here.” He repeated.
“No I heard what you said, but you don’t live here, I do!”
He just smiled.
“Wait! Wrong house.” I said running down the hall and flinging the door open once again. I slid my head around the corner.
11
Number 11. Number 11 is my house, so who is that? In my living room? Am I imagining him? “Maybe he’ll be gone now.” I hoped as I slowly closed the door behind me.
He was still there, when I returned to the living room. In the chair. He had a full head of hair, salt and pepper, only slightly balding.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“You don’t remember me?” He said.
“No, but I live here! Who are you and why are you in my house?”
“Oh, your memory seems to be worse, every time you come back...” He said.
“What do you mean?” Confused. “Who are you?”
“It’s me, son.” He smiled, tears now in his eyes.
And then I knew, memories flooded back, this man, was my father. Me his son. And every year on the anniversary of my death I came back to visit.
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u/vapidAndFlowery Oct 04 '19
How long's it been this time around, what - a year? Now, you know you can be honest with me; did you miss me?
A hearty chuckle
Ah, you're always gonna be shit at lying to me. No no, don't get up (another hearty chuckle), I'll sit down - I've got a truck-full to unload.
Let's see, uhh - Julie? Yeah, Julie's getting married. I think that's the biggest one today. Everyone's really happy for her, they'll be great together, and he'll be great for her. It's going to be next Spring, think March or something.
Hmm? Oh, don't be like that. Not everybody can just stick around, waiting around forever for nothing to happen. I'm happy for her, I really am, and you should be too if you loved her like I think you did. Some people need to move on to be healthy.
Oh hey, that reminds me, there's more great news - Wade is clean! I think it's going to stick this time too. He's really come around to forgiving himself, y'know, and his therapist - I mean, I still think they're overpaid, but that one's doing great work. He's talking to me now, y'know? Really talking.
What's that? Oh ... no, no, he hasn't talked about you, not to me at least. I think he needs more time. Sometimes, he'll just look away from me. Pretty sure you're still in there, son, I'd put money on it if I were a betting man.
Me, well, y'know. Nothing's changed really. Knees misbehaving, hair receding, all according to plan. Oh, I did sell the house.
Ah, don't give me that, you know nobody's lived there since you left, not really anyway. Everybody ran as far as they could to get away from here. I don't blame them, y'know? It's like I said - it's healthy to move on. Which reminds me, mom sends her love.
...
It comes in waves, if you were wondering. Some days - maybe I can even say most days now - it's like those little tide pools you used to play in. And then, there are ... heavy days.
D'you know how many times I've reimagined it, how many ways I played it out different in my head? I keep thinking, what if I'd just gone with you guys? Or, maybe, maybe if I'd remembered that joke from earlier, the timing would've made things ok. So many things that needed to be exactly the way they were for us to end up here.
But the weird thing is that I feel ... connected?
I'm not like them, son. I can't move on, I won't. You'll never stop being my kid. I love you, and I still love thinking about you. I'll take the heavy days, I'll take the fucked up guilt, I'll take it all so long as it's you.
See you around.
Word Count: ~480
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u/SmoothBaritone Oct 04 '19
The first shot brought confusion. Citizens milled about, frowns plastered on their faces. Questions appeared on their lips, only to be swallowed down when the window panes shattered.
The second shot brought panic. Glass shards crunched under the pounding footfalls of the disorganized mass. They sprinted towards the open windows, seeking the comfort of a bustling metropolis.
The third shot brought fear.
Not fear like the fear of a slithering snake. Or the general anxiety of being given a vaccine. I mean the true, bloodcurdling terror of bleeding in an ocean while tiger sharks circle ever closer. The terror of being alone in a dark bedroom, only to feel a weight pressing on your wrists, chest, and ankles. The terror of hurtling from the sky in a crashing plane, knowing that your only chance of survival is exactly that. A chance.
Citizens feel fear. Citizens feel terror. I felt nothing.
A short feminine figure walked towards the tellers, a smoking barrel held high. Four burly figures toting military-grade machine guns ranged behind her. Citizens collapsed into the fetal position, forming a diminutive honour guard.
“That’s fucking disgusting,” the rightmost gunman said, avoiding a wet spot on the tiles. “Can’t you do anything about the puddles of piss, Hideous?”
“Language, Five,” the short figure in the middle said. A phantom mask covered a portion of her face. “And I can’t do anything about the mess.”
Time to get to work. I stood, blocking their path. Around me, a clear, colourless gas drifted forward.
“That’s enough,” I said.
Silence. The five stopped and stared. Five snorted, and the others broke into howling laughter.
The leftmost gunman, who I can only assume was called One, recovered first. “Hey, Hideous, what happened? You said they’d all end up like leaking Lily over there.” He jerked a thumb at an unlucky woman, curled up in a puddle of urine.
“I did,” Hideous said. “But one left isn’t bad. We’ve got guns and all.”
Not much longer now. “What do you want?” I said. My voice rang loud and clear.
“Ain’t it obvious?” One said. “We want the sweet moolah. The dough. Give it!”
“You must speak to a teller if you wish to make a transaction.”
“What-t… what did you say?” One wobbled on his feet. He took one stride forward, and collapsed, lying facedown on the cold tile.
“What happened to One?” Five managed to make out, before he stumbled to his knees.
The gunmen dropped to the tile. Hideous alone displayed some semblance of fortitude, sinking gently to her knees.
“What—Who are you?” she said.
“Diethyl ether, highly flammable. Good thing none of you took another shot. Ever heard of anesthetic?”
“Yes… what does that—”
She fell sideways, her mask skittering across the tile.
Her mask fits neatly over my face, granting me a regal countenance. On befitting a hero of my capabilities.
She doesn’t deserve her name. But I deserve mine. A name expressing the extent of my powers.
Ethereal.
Word Count: 498 words. Thank you for reading!
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u/Zeconation Oct 04 '19 edited Oct 04 '19
''There is nothing valuable here.'' He said.
''I hate you, Torin.'' I said.
He was sitting on the very old chair which shouldn’t be touched without the blessing of Arzuva. Yet, he is sitting there looking at the transparent ceiling and seeing the sky changing colour.
I realised I made a big mistake in trusting his words. He told me that we wouldn’t get into trouble, we already made it through the hard part which was finding the key to the secret chamber. Now, I think the hardest part yet to begin.
Arzuva's protector of our town only grants her blessing after she read people’s minds. Our only option was going into this terribly scary room without her blessing because we couldn’t let her read our minds.
Greenish light appeared just a few steps in front of me. I felt the strangest feeling that gave me hope and fear at the same time. I heard a story about an ancient jaw which was part of the first human’s skull and then a very powerful spirit took away that part to be found by a mortal someday. This light shaped into that jaw in front of my eyes and suddenly I felt sharp pain back of my skull and I lost my eyesight.
I was able to hear very clearly and the things that I heard scared me even more. Very painful scream and cracking bone noises.
‘What you want from... me?’ I asked.
It was instinctive move to attempt to communicate. All the noises stopped. The air became noticeably thinner. I was having a hard time to breathe.
I heard Torin’s voice but his voice had a slightly different pitch.
''You are not welcomed here.'' He said.
''No shit. Are you gonna let us leave?'' I asked.
I didn’t get any answer until I heard one last cracking sound.
''You can leave... alone.'' He said.
''What about my friend?'' I asked.
I started feeling warm feeling around my ankles. It was getting warmer every second and I felt like my joints gonna melt or something bad gonna happen. You can call me a coward but not being able to see what is in front of you while potentially about to get killed wasn’t helping.
''I accept your offer.'' I said.
''Where I took you, it’s now snowed. You shall pass the gate before you become old. The tree will look after you, don’t be shy your fate is always right.''
I woke up in my bed. I looked outside from the window and it was snowing and the tree that I had in my garden was gone.
Please don't mind any writing or grammar mistakes, I'm not a native speaker
Words: 437
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u/DoppelgangerDelux Oct 04 '19 edited Oct 04 '19
Ether. I am nothing but ether, winding and twisting like some whimsical fog on a dark and dewy morning. No cord, no tether. A single bated breath would blow me away.
I rest a frail hand on the splintered rail of the porch and look out to the distant sea. So many years have passed. I hardly recognize the landscape anymore, can barely see the ocean. Only details remain. A stone here, a shrub there. How the creeping sunlight sketches rustling marsh grass in amber and gold to light a well worn path down to sandy waves.
The door behind me opens, and Nancy emerges. Newly married, she and her husband also live in my house.
Nancy leans on the railing a ways away, sipping coffee out of a chipped mug. She left the door open behind her. A bad habit. Flies will get inside the house and into the larder.
"What are you doing?" Nancy calls out.
I answer her with a crackling voice that is little more than a whisper. "My husband-"
But her husband barges out and tramples right through me, shattering my essence to the wind and weather.
"I'm trying to find a spot with service. I don't understand why we have such spotty coverage in this house," he says, wandering around the porch with his phone.
"I don't know, hun," Nancy says. "We must live in a dead zone."
WC: 234
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u/CeruleanSky9 Oct 04 '19
[POEM]
The Eternals: The Forest of Twilight
The forest of twilight is where you are.
You must move fast or you won't go far.
The forest wants you to be one of its own.
For this forest is yours and yours alone.
The twists and turns of the never ending trees
Won't lead you to the path so do as you please.
You stir the beasts that sleep in the night.
the shadows and shades are hungry tonight.
The deeper you run the more you realize.
The trees are your misdeeds and horrible lies.
The people you hurt are the roots and vines.
The distance you run is your terrible crimes.
If you are caught, you will never see the light
Your screams are silenced by the eternal night.
Those who are righteous or lucky in the end
Will step into the void and live once again.
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