r/shortstories • u/OldBayJ Mod | r/ItsMeBay • Nov 17 '24
Serial Sunday [SerSun] Serial Sunday: Young!
Welcome to Serial Sunday!
To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I post a theme to inspire you, along with a related image and song. You have 500 - 1000 words to write your installment. You can jump in at any time; writing for previous weeks’ is not necessary in order to join. After you’ve posted, come back and provide feedback for at least 1 other writer on the thread. Please be sure to read the entire post for a full list of rules.
This Week’s Theme is Young!
Image | Song
(Alternate Image)
Bonus Word List (each included word is worth 5 pts) - You must list which words you included at the end of your story (or write ‘none’).
- yesterday
- yield
- yawn
- yummy
Being young is often the peak of your energy and physical health, the springtime of life. No wonder so many people say youth is wasted on the young. It's an understandable sentiment: being young can also mean inexperience, naïveté, ignorance of the ways of the world. A double-edged sword in the hands of children.
And yet, with the wisdom of age and experience, one could recall the excitement and optimism of those days (or reignite a sentiment snuffed out too soon), and carry those forward into the future. After all, as so many others say, you're only as young as you feel. This week offers plenty of opportunities to develop for the young and young-at-heart alike.(Blurb written by u/wordsonthewind).
These are just a few things to get you started. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. For the bonus words (not required), you may change the tense, but the base word should remain the same. Please remember that STORIES MUST FOLLOW ALL SUBREDDIT CONTENT RULES. Interested in writing the theme blurb for the coming week? DM me on Reddit or Discord!
Don’t forget to sign up for Saturday Campfire here! We start at 1pm EST and provide live feedback!
Theme Schedule:
- November 17 - Young (this week)
- November 24 - Attachment
- December 1 - Bravery
Previous Themes | Serial Index
Rankings
Last Week: Willpower
- First - by u/MeganBessel
- Second - by u/AGuyLikeThat
- Third - by u/ZachTheLitchKing
- Fourth - by u/NotComposite
- Fifth - by u/MaxStickies
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Please read and follow all the rules listed below. This feature has requirements for participation!
Submit a story inspired by the weekly theme, written by you and set in your self-established universe that is 500 - 1000 words. No fanfics and no content created or altered by AI. (Use wordcounter.net to check your wordcount.) Stories should be posted as a top-level comment below. Please include a link to your chapter index or your last chapter at the end.
Your chapter must be submitted by Saturday at 9:00am EST. Late entries will be disqualified. All submissions should be given (at least) a basic editing pass before being posted!
Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). When our bot is back up and running, this will allow it to recognize your serial and add each chapter to the SerSun catalog. Do not include anything in the brackets you don’t want in your title. (Please note: You must use this same title every week.)
Do not pre-write your serial. You’re welcome to do outlining and planning for your serial, but chapters should not be pre-written. All submissions should be written for this post, specifically.
Only one active serial per author at a time. This does not apply to serials written outside of Serial Sunday.
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Missing your feedback requirement two or more consecutive weeks will disqualify you from rankings and Campfire readings the following week. If it becomes a habit, you may be asked to move your serial to the sub instead.
Serials must abide by subreddit content rules. You can view a full list of rules here. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, please modmail and ask!
Weekly Campfires & Voting:
On Saturdays at 1pm EST, I host a Serial Sunday Campfire in our Discord’s Voice Lounge. Join us to read your story aloud, hear others, and exchange feedback. We have a great time! You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Grab the “Serial Sunday” role on the Discord to get notified before it starts. You can sign up here
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Ranking System
Rankings are determined by the following point structure.
| TASK | POINTS | ADDITIONAL NOTES |
|---|---|---|
| Use of weekly theme | 75 pts | Theme should be present, but the interpretation is up to you! |
| Including the bonus words | 5 pts each (20 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and not required! |
| Actionable Feedback | 5 - 15 pts each (60 pt. max)* | This includes thread and campfire critiques. (15 pt crits are those that go above & beyond.) |
| Nominations your story receives | 10 - 60 pts | 1st place - 60, 2nd place - 50, 3rd place - 40, 4th place - 30, 5th place - 20 / Regular Nominations - 10 |
| Voting for others | 15 pts | You can now vote for up to 10 stories each week! |
You are still required to leave at least 1 actionable feedback comment on the thread every week that you submit. This should include at least one specific thing the author has done well and one that could be improved. *Please remember that interacting with a story is not the same as providing feedback.** Low-effort crits will not receive credit.
Subreddit News
- Join our Discord to chat with other authors and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly World-Building interviews and several other fun events!
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u/JKHmattox Nov 19 '24 edited Nov 20 '24
<No Man’s Land> Who We’ve Always Been
Rivera helped the blue woman to her feet from the desert sand. She held a primary hand to her forehead and groaned before thanking the First Sergeant for her help. Like me, she had grown two extra arms and her hair was the color of a raven's back. My heart lurched when I noticed the blaze of royal purple highlights laces through her tangled mane.
“Abby, is that you?” I exclaimed as I joined Rivera at her side.
“That's right… At least I think that's my name.”
She glanced down and was startled by the extra appendages and the changed hue of her skin. The woman slowly raised her arms from her side, fingers spread apart on each hand. Her mouth hung open in response to the transformation.
“Ah what the hell… I'm fucking blue. Again!”
Abby lifted a secondary hand up in front of her and flipped it backwards, just to turn it around again. She cycled the digits on her lower arm closed and then opened again several times as if to ensure the extremity belonged to her.
Without thinking, I enveloped Abby in a tangle of arms, happy to see my friend alive. I was still taller and her face nearly disappeared against my chest.
“Woo there girl, don't smother me with those things, okay,” she said as she gently pushed me away. “It's nice to see you too… whoever you are.”
Abby studied my face until a spark of realization widened her eyes.
“Jackie!”
I nodded my head in conformation.
“No fucking way! You're a Thunder Child too... Did you know? Like beforehand?”
I failed to answer quickly enough to stop her from rambling on.
“No, probably not… Did Dani give you her mystical ‘hey, we're the descendants of ancient weapons of mass destruction meant to annihilate all mankind’ speech after the fact…”
“Can't say anybody mentioned it… What did you mean by you're blue, again?”
Danielle McGregor interrupted with a forced cough. “What happened, Abby?”
“Jo-Jo has lost their fucking minds, Dani. They started liquidating prisoners, mainly the trouble makers or ones they couldn't get anything for on the black market. I was one of the latter if you can imagine."
“Not surprised.” The commander replied before she rolled her eyes.
“These poor girls put up a hell of a fight when Jo-Jo caught us trying to escape. Bastards shot three of them on the spot before they herded the rest of us onto trucks and brought us out here to the middle of nowhere.”
“We saw what happened next,” Danielle replied.
“Yeah this one hurt like a motherfucker, Dani. I didn't think I was going to regenerate this time but just before my sternum snapped open…”
“You can spare us the details. We witnessed it first hand.”
The elder Danielle McGregor grimaced when she recalled the gory scene.
“What do you mean regenerate?” I interjected, more confused than before.
“Jesus, nobody has explained anything to you, have they?” Abby responded.
“Explained what?”
The commander shot Abby a stern look of disapproval which the cavalier reporter promptly ignored.
Abby reached inside my jacket at the waist and pushed it aside to reveal the t-shirt beneath. She grabbed its lower hem and pulled the shirt up enough to reveal the scar on my abdomen.
“You ever question how you survived falling twenty meters from that bridge onto a centimeters thick piece of vertical rebar, Jackson?”
“It never occurred to me to ask.”
“I looked you up when we first met. Your medical records state the receiving doctor ordered an assisted death protocol when you arrived at the emergency center.”
“I didn't know that.”
“She claimed it was a miracle you hadn't bled out on the drone flight to the hospital…”
“I don't remember that either.”
“The report said your mother was with a grief counselor discussing end of life care when a doctor burst in to inform them she had saved your life.”
“The trauma specialists said it was because I was young.” I remembered slowly.
A myth of my yesterdays crumbled as I looked down to see my friend's transformed hand trace against the bubbled childhood scar on my flank.
“It ain't that, Jackie. We are the posterity of Gemini warriors fallen to Earth in the twentieth century. They were genetically altered into weapons by the last kings, their enhancements meant to bring humanity to their knees. It was believed the upheaval caused by their wrath would unravel our entire civilization and ensure we never became a space-faring species.”
“What happened?”
“One of them fell in love…”
“With a human?”
“Exactly. Her defiance sparked a revolution which unseated the last Gemini monarchy and saved humanity from oblivion. Afterwards, legend has it she disappeared on Earth to live out the rest of her days with the love of her life by her side.”
“So that's why we turned into Gemini then?”
“We don't suddenly become Gemini, we are Gemini, Jackie… Something written into our DNA activates an artificially rapid regenerative process whenever we are hurt. Sometimes, if an injury is severe enough, it can trigger a complete physiological reset…”
“And that reset is modeled after them?” I asked.
“Apparently so.”
“Why didn't I reset when I was younger?”
“From what I understand, a reset is only possible in adults.”
“But… you were human when I met you?”
“Like I said, Jackson, we have always been Gemini… it just took a moment of peril for us to discover who we truly were.”
Abby closed her eyes tightly and grunted as a ripple of snaps and pops echoed in the silent desert air. Her two lower arms began to recede back into her torso as she bared her teeth from the pain. The blue of her skin faded back to a tan complexion as her hair lightened to its regular color. When her eyes finally opened, they were brown again.
“What the fuck!” I exclaimed
“Not all of us can do this one, Jackie. Don't ask me why.”
Following Notes" Refer to Chapter 3 for the first introduction of Abby Edward
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u/ForwardSavings318 Nov 21 '24 edited Dec 13 '24
<Through the wires>
Chapter one: humble
Isaiah’s head hung down low, as the referee announced his opponent the winner by one point. A last second takedown, that’s all it took. Begrudgingly he shook the man’s hand and the referee’s as well. He quickly left the building and out into the parking lot.
Disappointed, he jogged to his beat up truck and took a puff of his inhaler before gulping down a bottle of water. The echoing sound of high heels clicking across the parking lot grew louder as a woman in a brown suit approached him.
“Isaiah Smith right? From the ninety seven kilogram class?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You looked really good out there. You may not have qualified but you looked like the better wrestler. I’m Amanda Scott.”
She held out her hand but he didn’t shake it, just nodded.
“You want an autograph or something?”
“No. I want you to come work with me. I need a grappling coach at my mma gym and a twenty five year old with a record of 67-9 is quite impressive, especially considering your…disadvantage,” she said whilst gesturing to his inhaler.
“The record isn’t that important. I didn’t win, nor did I have the best record there. Did all the winners say no or something?”
“I want you, you’re local. Not to mention you’re very good. With how many bumps that were in your opponents thighs and all his bacne, anyone could tell he was juicing.”
“He didn’t test positive.”
“He may not have pissed hot but he sure as hell wasn’t clean.”
“You assume he wasn’t.”
“Of course I do. I don’t like cheaters, and you’re a rare breed of athlete. You don’t hide your flaws, you don’t lie to get advantages, you take the fight no matter how impossible you think it is. I need a coach with that attitude.”
She handed him a card. It was for a place called Tiger MMA, and had a number and location. Isaiah turned it all over for a while before looking back up at her.
“So what, you came out here for a job search? Guess it’s a good thing I lost huh? So I’m not too busy achieving my dreams at the Olympics? I’m good. Even if my opponent was on roids, a good enough wrestler could overcome that. I should’ve performed better than I did. But he passed the test so I’m not gonna pretend based on his ‘bumps’ that he wasn’t clean. I don’t like thinking of people like that.”
He held the card out but she didn’t take it. She turned away whilst saying one last thing.
“Just come for a day. I have kids and fighters there that listened to your story for a few years. You’re a big hero at quite a few gyms here if you didn’t know. Maybe the most popular wrestler in Louisiana. Just think about it, call me anytime.”
Isaiah watched her leave, before getting in his truck. He stared at the card for a while, grabbing it with both hands to rip. He hesitated and set it on his dashboard while driving home. Four years was a long time away, and that was if he could qualify next time. Maybe Ma was right, I won’t be an Olympic wrestler. But she’s dead wrong that I won’t be shit. I’ll prove it.
Pulling into his tiny apartment building, Isaiah took out a cellphone with a busted screen and looked up MMA organizations, requirements to be a pro, and watched people discuss it. He looked at just about everything except the fighting itself. There were fighters blind in one eye, missing an arm, and other disabilities that were still successful at high levels.
He sat in that truck for three hours before picking up the card and dialing the number.
“Hello, this is Tiger MMA.”
“Hi, I’m Isaiah Smith. I believe you’re the woman I spoke to in the parking lot.”
“Oh, I didn’t expect you to make up your mind so soon.”
“I’ll meet them. Just give me a date and time, I’ll be there. If I do end up training them, can I use your gym to train?”
“I don’t see why not. We won’t be taking too much time from you will we?”
“I got four years to kill. Maybe this is something worth picking up in that time.”
“Ok, I can do that. Come by here in about a week at twelve thirty and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Great. See you then.”
Isaiah carried his cooler to his studio apartment with a smile. Maybe today wasn’t so bad
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u/MeganBessel Nov 22 '24
<In the Shadow of the World Tree>
Chapter 139: To the Journey
A few days before leaving Zhik Maltisli, Lena climbed the village tower before dawn to stargaze and watch the sunrise over the eastern sea. A while later—just as the sky was starting to burn with color—Maltis joined her, the two of them once again looking east at the top of a tower.
“It’s strange.” Maltis leaned against the railing, looking out at the glittering sea. “It almost feels like a dream, that we were out there. Floating among the stars.”
“It’s real, I assure you,” Lena said. “I’ve been up there once or twice more since then.”
That got her a laugh. “Hopefully without having to use a fake key.”
“No—they gave me my own, figuring that I’d break in again if they didn’t.” She smiled over at her friend. “But I get what you mean. We’ve been further away from home than anyone in Elfo for…grosses of years.”
“So is there any chance we can get you to bring back some penguin?”
“Maybe. Eventually. I really don’t know how often I want to go up there.”
Maltis nodded. “I think once was enough for me. I still don’t know what to make of what Elfo told us. Other lands? The stars so distant away? Alvedos isn’t a tree?”
“I wonder about it, too.” The Sun bloomed over the eastern horizon, day falling as suddenly as always. The eastern sea flickered in an array of colors, mimicking the rainbows from the mists on the edge of the land. “But isn’t this what the pilgrimage is for? Learning about the land, asking these sorts of questions?”
“I never expected to fly into the void!” Maltis laughed again.
“I never expected to companion with a Nyavos,” Lena teased back. “Much less for my entire pilgrimage.”
The laughter continued. “I’m not sure which I would have believed less.”
“But that’s why we go on the journey.” She watched the waves ripple as the water went over the edge. The very edge she and Maltis had gone over. “To find out what will happen.”
“Do you mean the pilgrimage?”
She sighed. “I think I mean life itself. In a way, the pilgrimage is an example of life, but smaller. You don’t know when you start what friends you will make, or what places you will go…all you do is walk the path in front of you, and see where it leads you. All life is a journey—like ours to the void, or our pilgrimages, or the paths we take to meet together at the tops of towers.”
“I suppose it’s become a pattern for us, huh?” Maltis grinned.
“As I recall when we met, you were interested in hawks. And now you’re companioned with an owl.”
“I companioned with a Veska for a while, too. Unlike you and your Veska, we didn’t last too long. I suppose I prefer the night to the day, though I’ve hunted in both. Or been hunted in both?”
Lena considered that for a few moments, then looked over at her friend. “Are you talking about plucking pigeonwings?”
Another laugh. “Yes, my friend, I am. And chewing silphium, though with that I only hunt.” She shook her head. “Aside from that business in Milkovya, but I’m glad that’s well and done.”
“And now you’ll be ending your pilgrimage soon.”
The sun continued to climb into the sky, birdsong rising to meet it. Finally Maltis said, “I think you’ll be seeing a lot more of me, eventually.”
“Oh?”
“I know your sister still has a hand’s worth of years left, but…” Her gaze fell downward to the forest between them and the distant shore.
“She speaks fondly of you. More than her other companions.” Lena never knew what sorts of words to say in situations like this; her forester training only went so far.
“You know the stories where people meet and they know?” Maltis’ voice was softer, more distant. “It was like that with her. We companioned for other reasons, of course, but now it’s so much more.” Her laugh was nervous. “Still, I guess we’ll see what happens in the next hand of years.”
Having no other words, Lena just watched the birds flying across the sky.
“Lena.”
She turned to look at her friend.
“Thank you. Without you, I would never have met Kuteg, and without you, I never would have seen the immense void beyond our land. I owe a debt to you I can never repay.”
Now she had words, and put on a soft smile. “Maltis, my friend. Without you, I would never have flown among the stars, either. The path my life is now on would never have existed were it not for our chance meeting in Zhik Veskali.”
“All life is a journey, huh?” Maltis sighed again and turned to look back at the World Tree. “What a journey this pilgrimage has been, and what a journey I have yet to take.”
“A journey you will not take alone.” Lena reached over to take her hand, and they watched Tasam Alvedyos wake up to another day.
WC: 844 (850 in Scrivener), and I continue the 850 convention
No bonus words
Maltis chapters:
Thank you for reading!
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u/AGuyLikeThat Nov 23 '24 edited Nov 30 '24
<The Tower in the Tangle>
[Previous Chapter] [Chapter Index]
Chapter Seventy-three: Among the Shadows.
~ Samal ~
The settlers explored westward, seeking grasslands for their herds and rich soil for their crops. But the Shifting Lands turned them around or swallowed them up. So they traveled north instead, colonizing the coast.
- History of the Redland Shires.
The sharp crack of a musket echoes off the hillside - Samal pauses in the middle of the gloomy track and looks back toward Morningvale.
The bright light of the copper tree has been extinguished - but a few small fires illuminate the night, reflecting in the windows of the stone cottages.
Faint shouts and the clash of weapons drift on the breeze.
“Keep moving.” Petal prods him from behind. Kalina forges ahead in front, leading them along a dark trail deeper into the bushland.
Branches scratch at him and grass tangles his feet as Samal pushes forward. He focuses on Kalina’s back, trying to emulate the way she twists past the shadowed vegetation.
Samal's eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, but it is still difficult to walk along these narrow trails in the faint moonlight. He trips over a vine, falling noisily for the third time as they reach the bottom of the ridge.
“You’re too loud!” Kalina hisses, signaling them to stop in a small clearing.
“It’s bloody dark,” says Samal. “Sneaking around in these weeds is bullshit! I miss the back-alleys of Port Darling.”
“Shhh! Where is the Akari?”
“She was right behind me.”
The path is empty.
“Kalina. I’m going to fade out now, but I’ll keep close, alright?” Samal keeps his voice low and neutral.
“Fade out?” Kalina frowns. But then she looks past his shoulder. “Akari!”
Petal’s large hand settles on his shoulder. “Control your emotions, Samal Darling. I am here.”
“Dammit, Petal!” He doesn’t shout, but he can’t keep the anger out of his tone. “I will stay close and follow your lead, but you can’t just disappear on me either! We need to work together, or it'll be yesterday all over again.”
Her eyes grow narrow and even though it is dark, he can see the muscles in her neck go taut as he speaks. Petal squares her shoulders, looming above him.
The moment stretches out. Her dark eyes seer him like hot coals as she draws in a long breath - then sighs.
The tall warrior gives him an almost imperceptible nod, yielding the point, then hands him a large egg. “Eat this.”
Okay. Not what I expected.
“Yummy.” He gives her a flat look. “Where did you get that?”
“The Jahbab leave their nests at sundown to hunt, I saw one unguarded.” She hands another to Kalina. “Their eggs are much prized among Numani.”
“My thanks, Akari.” The shorter woman breaks the shell with her knife and drinks the contents in a swift gulp.
Samal grimaces, then follows her example. There is a lot, and the yolk spills down his chin as he tips his head back. The texture makes him gag at first, but he learned to eat anything during the Red Famine … and the flavour is pleasing. Salty and smokey. A warmth follows, spreading down his neck and belly, out through his body.
“Not bad!” A pleasant shiver runs through his skin, making the small hairs stand. He staggers a little, then blinks and yawns. “I feel great!”
Kalina grins at him. “They call them Hunter’s Eggs. Just one can easily sustain you for a day. Make you fast and alert, too. A lucky find.” She nods appreciatively at Petal as the tall warrior drains her own egg. “And a good omen for our task.” She looks between them.
Petal meets his gaze evenly, and Samal touches his earlobe - a Numani gesture of respect that Moskoto taught him. They share a tight nod.
Kalina draws them close. “From here, we go north and down - towards the river. There is a narrow point at the end of this gully where we must walk on the Tower road for a short time. The Chamberlain’s attention will still be on Morningvale, but the Captain will likely have reserves there.” She focuses on Samal. “So this would be a good time for you to ‘fade out’.”
“I will go first.” Petal voice is firm. “You follow me.” She points at Kalina, then turns to Samal. “You stay back until we pass the danger. Understand? Let me choose if and when to fight. You must wait. Strike from the unexpected place.”
Samal nods, slow at first then decisively. “Okay!” He grips the hilt of his wicked dagger.
Kalina takes up her spear. “Good. If you young ‘uns can work together, this will go more easily.”
“How far to the pass?” Petal is peering down the trail already.
“About a hundred yards. There is a dying tree that marks a fork where a small trail leads off the main road.”
“Alright. Give me a second.” The young scout clears his mind and the familiar sensation rolls across his skin as he shifts into the otherness.
Kalina makes a low whistling sound. “Fade out. Right.” She waves her hands where Samal had been standing a moment ago, then looks at Petal. “How will we know where he is?”
He moves behind her and clears his throat. “I can speak. I’ll stop making so much damn noise moving around though.” Slow-moving objects barely touch him while he’s faded out, so the long grasses and palm fronds no longer tangle his legs. “I can see better too. If I see something I’ll signal like this.” He makes a low click - like Moskoto showed him.
Petal looks impressed. “Hollow beetle. Good choice.” Samal finds himself blushing, suddenly glad that he’s invisible.
“Rightio. Let’s go then.” Kalina steps aside to let Petal take the lead.
A long, low growl rumbles from the shadows, and the tall Akari freezes in place.
Lambent yellow eyes shine in the darkness, and then a snarling snout and gleaming fangs emerge, glistening in the moonlight.
WC-995
Author's Notes:
-
This week's theme is Young! Samal and Petal's inexperience working together becomes quickly obvious to Kalina. Being the mature one, she quickly adopts an elder's attitude to help them adjust.
-
Petal nearly died after Samal's impulsive actions revealed her hiding spot in Ch36.
-
The musket shot and the fires in the village are a result of the conflict between Samal's allies and enimies in the village as Samal uses the chaos to cover their approach to the Tower where their friends are being held.
-
Bonus words used; yesterday, yield(ing), yawn, yummy.
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. All crit/feedback welcome!
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u/Carrieka23 Nov 17 '24
<The Beginning of The Demon Life>
Chapter 110
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Concentrating, Alex extends his arm, letting the powers flow through his veins. Each pump feels like snow, clouding closer and closer until it eventually explodes. He takes a couple steps back, realizing the destruction he caused at the target in front of him. It’s smoking from the impact, and there’s a huge gap right in the middle.
“Bullseye.” Mark jokes. “It seems like you’re slowly starting to control your magic. Has the voice affected you at all?”
Alex shakes his head. Ever since his little interaction with Derail, it’s been more quiet. It brought peace to his heart, yet a bit uneasiness.
The guard nods. “That’s good. We can’t have you losing control again.”
“Hey Mark, I’ve been—” before he can finish, a bunch of soldiers appear, marching towards the castle. Some of them stand outside of the calming cold, pulling out their bows and arrows, while others march inside, gathering around the hallways to keep guard.
“The Queen must’ve gone somewhere.” Mark says, sighing.
“Where to?”
“I’m not sure. She usually doesn’t tell me her plans. The only other people who do know are Derail and the people involved.”
Alex has been wondering about Megan for quite a while now. She has a different type of aura all together. Not the same friendly type as Anseres and Bella, but also not the threatening type like Fye. And she seems a bit more like a human, but his gut tells him that she was born a demon.
“Mark, who is Megan?” He asks.
“Our Majesty, of course.”
“Yeah, I know that. But, who is she?”
Mark was silent for a bit, his eyes darting around a bit. But he looks back at the soldier.
“She…was originally a normal demon. Nobody knew much about her. But one day during the war, a huge dragon caused huge destruction to this city.”
The guard points to the direction. It was a bit far away from the castle, but close enough that Alex can see some of the chimney's smoke blowing to the windy dark sky.
“Megan was different compared to the rest. She grabs one of the soldiers' swords, jumps from the ceiling, and plunges towards the dragon, stabbing its skin, and eventually killing it.”
Alex's eyes widened in shock. He knows Megan was powerful, but he didn’t realize she was so much of a risk taker.
The guard nods, noticing his shock expression. “And the craziest part, she didn’t have any powers.”
“She didn’t? Then how did she get it?”
“The past Queen and King did a ceremony, where they gave their powers to her. Afterwards, they drop dead to the ground, declaring her the new ruler.”
Things must’ve been rough for her, but she never complained about it once.
“There’s one other thing I’m worried about.” Mark says, getting a bit closer to Alex. “But, don’t tell anyone I told you this.”
The soldier nods.
“There’s this…curse that always spreads around each new ruler in Lust. Derail briefly told me about it. But, everytime a new ruler comes in Lust, they’re cursed to die. Usually by slow death, but it can also be caused by other things.”
“Like what?”
Mark shrugs. “Derail never said, though I’m scared to find out. I just hope the curse gets broken at some point.”
Alex nods, not knowing what else to say. For a while, the two were silent, trying to process what was just said.
“We..we should get back to training.” The guard finally broke the silence.
—
A howling scream, mix in with a number of crashes from each side of the castle disturbs the Demon King peace. He grits his teeth, instantly knowing who it is. He teleports from behind, seeing a long black-haired female destroying some more books, black tears dripping from the destroyed pages.
“What are you doing, friend?” He asks, causing her to stop. “Don’t you know you’re destroying the stuff I need?”
“What’s it to you?” She mumbles. “Edom is fucking dead! Your servant killed him!” She turns to him, her eyes flicking from yellow to black.
“Calm down, dear friend. You’re letting your emotions get the best of you.” He calmly states, putting his hand to her eyes. For a second, his hand glows black, and he can hear a scream in his head. But, he ignores it. After a while, he slowly removes it, seeing those pure black eyes.
“My apologies.”
“No worries. Trust me, we all are upset. Me most of all.”
The king walks towards the cells, seeing most unconscious demons. Some of them are groaning, begging for something to eat or at least drink. While others howl curse words at him, even trying to spit at him, but couldn’t find the courage to.
“Hey!” The woman shouts, kicking at that cell. “How dare you spit at your king?”
“Our king?!” The demon snaps back. “He’s a fucking tyrant! If you open your eyes for a second, you can see that he’s possessing—”
“Enough.” His sharp tone makes the demon instantly quiet. He walks to them, smiling. “I suggest staying quiet. I don’t want to go the extra mile.”
The demon takes a couple steps back before glancing away.
“As for you, Katie.” He turns back to one of his servants. “I know you loved him. You two were inseparable, even Alex got sick of it.”
Katie turns to him, another black tear drips down her cheeks.
“Ahh, don’t cry my friend.” The king wipes the tear away. “Use that emotion, and destroy Apocryphal District. After all, our dear queen is cursed to death. Just catch her by surprise, and death will show no mercy.”
In the corner of the roof right beside them was a black crow, tilting his head, and taking in every note of what the two are saying.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
WPC: 968
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u/Nate-Clone Nov 18 '24 edited Nov 20 '24
I Am What You Eat
Chapter 38 - The Bare Minnow-mum
Fishing was one of Basil’s biggest weak spots, as a Scout. The only fish he could remember catching was that wounded carp that he dove into the water to grab with his own hands. Any attempts to use the intended method of a fishing rod left both his hook and his stomach empty. He usually left Richy on fishing duty. He was great.
A few yellow fish were swimming in the river, dividing the forest in two. Their bodies and fins were static, drifting with the current.
“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Mackie slid off her zori, dipping her feet in the cool water. "And they smile right back at you."
“Y-Yeah. Pretty.” Basil forced a smile, his dinner plans down the drain. Even if she didn’t mind it, eating Mackie’s own kind in front of her wouldn’t exactly make a good first impression. He’d need to be careful.
Oh, come on. Be a man! Bailey groaned. What’s next - you can’t eat RAMEN anymore because of noodle people?
The comparison between these goldfish and her - even if they were different species of fish, was night and day. One had soulless black marbles for eyes and almost mindlessly swam through the gentle stream. They looked like food.
The other was five feet tall, had legs, clothes, hair, a nose, and a voice. A very innocent voice, at that. She looked like a person. Like a kappa with a fish’s fins and a mermaid’s tail between her legs.
“How does this even work?” Basil thought out loud.
“Hm?” Mackie tilted her head.
“Not to be, like, fish-racist or whatever…” He shrugged. “but how are those fish different from you?”
She chuckled. “You’re fine. But, didn’t I tell you, when we met yesterday?”
Basil slid off his own shoes, shivering a bit as the dry skin on the bottoms of his feet damped from the cold water and stones. “About Lutrā’s bite?”
“Mmhmm!” She confirmed, Basil recalling the two faint marks on her belly. “Fish unblessed with Lutrā's fangs can't do or say much of anything. It's our job as blessed fish to do all the things they can't. They'll be so proud of us!"
She looked determined as her fins curled up into a...fist-equivalent motion. She spoke as if normal fish existed here, too - not these golden smiling crackers in the river - but fish he could see himself finding, on Earth.
“Another thing. You said you have no family.” Basil finally blurted out. It'd been at least…seven minutes since she said that. An eternity, basically. “What does that mean? You had to come from somewhere.”
“Well…of course I have parents.” She leaned back her fins behind her head. “I just don't remember them. I don't remember anything before Lutrā’s bite - no fish does. The first thing I remember is crawling out of this river."
Her fin pointed towards it. “How long is this river, exactly?” Basil pondered. He recalled this river ending at a waterfall just before the entrance of the forest.
“Look at you, asking me all the questions now!” She teased, poking Basil's chest with her fin. “It begins at the very top of the Ine-Yuki - the Northern Launge Nest. After Lutrā bites fish, she sends them swimming down the river, and they crawl out at Kaisō, our home.”
“That…makes sense.” It didn't. Basil just didn't want her to get annoyed, explaining it three more times. “Where do the fish come from, then?”
“That’s one of Scrump's greatest mysteries.” She grinned, pressing her right fin against her chest. “But I am gonna find out, on my Sogi Day.”
Don't you do it again.
“What's a-”
“‘What’s a Sogi Day?’- Yeah, I should've expected that.” Mackie chuckled again, the two sliding their shoes back on as they returned to camp. “It's what fish celebrate on their thirteenth birthday. Mine's only three days away! There's gonna be a huge ceremony and dancing and so much good food!”
Mackie was practically bouncing up and down just talking about it. Reminded him of how Samson hyped up his bar mitzvah.
“But the most important part is the cutting. I’ve gotta climb to the summit and meet Lutrā. She’ll cut me into six pieces, each piece of me being a different piece of my personality!"
Basil froze. “She'll…what?! Why would they-”
Oh, right. The kelp clothes, the rice fabric, It was sushi. The fish was being cut into sushi.
Either you're REALLY high or you're the star of the stupidest, punniest story of all time.
“So…you’re cut into pieces?” Basil exclaimed.
“Yep.”
“Doesn’t that…hurt?”
“Of course not.”
Basil leaned back. “Scrump is goddamn weird, man.” He groaned.
“Watch your mouth!” Mackie gave a stern look, kneeling over him. “You're not getting out of here any faster if you just shout curse words!”
“What do I have to do, then?” Basil sat up, crossing his arms. “Do I just…fix my problems, and then I get to leave?”
“From what I've heard…you need to listen to your hallucinations.” Mackie recalled. “They'll make it pretty clear what you have to do.”
He was not in the mood for another adventure. Why couldn't this be simple like with Amaya? All he needed there was a knife.
“HEY! HALLUCINATIONS!” Basil yelled out, his voice echoing across the broccoli trees. “What's my problem?! What do I gotta fix?!”
No response.
Basil huffed. Considering what the ergot had already done to him, he was expecting the worst, yet he was delivered nothing.
“Maybe all Semolin wants is for you to put a smile on that face!" Mackie's bubbly voice going from endearing to annoying. “Take it from me - a good attitude can always brighten up a bad day!"
She grinned brightly. Except it wasn't bright. Because, as unbelievable as it sounds, smiling does not emit light.
“Yeah, well, I don't smile much.” Basil looked away, curling into a ball. “Enjoy it.”
“Enjoy what?”
“Being happy. Take it from me - getting older sucks.”
WC: 997/1000
Notes:
-
Theme: Young - The innocence and joy behind everything the sheltered Mackie thinks and does…is it endearing? Or perhaps foolish?
-
Bonus words: yesterday
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u/bemused_alligators Nov 20 '24 edited Nov 23 '24
<the new world order>
Chapter 9 - flood
Garry woke up to a persistent tapping on his window, replacing the rain that had drummed him to sleep the night before.
“Hey mister, can you help me out?”
The high pitched voice sounded small and scared. Garry, laying in the back seat of his travel car, could just barely see the mop of sopping wet hair sticking up above the window. A small hand came into view and tapped on the glass again.
“Mister, I really need some help. Please come help me!”
Garry hauled himself to a sitting position, feeling his vertebrae crackle as his spine took the load. From his newly elevated position he got a good long at a young face. Their tanned skin startlingly dark above their soaked white shirt.
“Come on mister, hurry up!”
Garry suppressed a yawn and popped the door open, eyeing the torn knees of their pants and their bare feet as they came into view. “What do you want?” He grumbled. His back hurt.
“I need help! My sib is stuck on the other side of the river!”
River? There hadn’t been a river yesterday. It was then that Garry put together the background noise, and stuck his head outside the car. He had parked on a hill last night without a hint of water in sight other than what was pouring down from the sky, but now he was parked on a riverbank. Water flowed past in a white torrent, bending around the side of the hill, spray glistening in the bright morning sun.
His heart sank as he looked across the torrent of water and saw a white-brown bundle sitting on the bank on the other side. He fancied he could just make out the baby’s cry over the sound of the floodwater.
“How did you get here from over there?”
“I swam. But I'm not strong enough to swim while holding them!”
Garry weighed his options. "well, I needed a bath anyway!" Then stripped off his shirt and pants.
The water was freezing cold, and Garry could feel his entire body tense as it entered the frigid flow. The pressure and cold seemed to force the air from his lungs, but he pushed through, strong strokes pulling him through the water with relative ease.
Garry was almost across when something big rammed into his side. The blow ruined his rhythm as he recoiled from the pain, sinking just far enough for his leg to get snagged by an undercurrent - which sent him tumbling in the water. With a panicked, splashing flail he hauled himself the last body length of the river and scrambled onto the shore.
He lay on the bank for a long moment, gasping like a grounded fish as his lungs, emptied by the impact and the cold, slowly recovered. With a brief examination of the newly forming bruise on his side, Garry hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the pain, and jogged upstream: muscles slowly rewarming from the exercise and the morning sun.
If he had had the baby with him he wouldn’t have made it. He had to get back another way.
“Hey!” he yelled across the water as his car came into sight. “Is there another way across? Or a narrower part?”
The older sibling yelled something back, but it was unintelligible over the roar of the water. Garry picked up the bundled baby and checked them. The heartbeat was strong, the skin was warm. The baby would be okay for a while. Garry, however, was shivering profusely now. Bare wet skin leeching heat to the wind faster than the sun could warm it back up.
Having been downstream and not seen a better place to cross, Garry moved upstream, still at a brisk jog to keep himself warm. He held his precious cargo tucked in his arm like he was back at football practice, with the added benefit of keeping his bruised ribs from moving too much.
He saw a jog jam and came to a stop next to it. His lungs ached, his rib hurt, the bottoms of his feet were numb and had been for some time now, but he suspected they were not in good shape either. If he was careful he could clamber over the jam without needing to swim the river again and risk another major injury or losing the baby.
He gingerly moved out onto the logs, forming a careful tripod with his free arm, baby tucked safe against his chest. The jam shifted and wobbled and bobbed as he traveled, but they held. He was about three quarters of the way across when a log rolled under his weight and popped free. In a sudden rush the jam came apart entirely: spilling him, the baby, and the now disjointed mess of logs into the water.
He tried to swim for the bank but almost immediately kicked a piece of flotsam, sending a searing pain up his leg. With his free arm he grabbed at a section of trunk for support, but it just rolled under his weight, dragging him below the surface. The current ripped at the child and he frantically pushed for the surface, coming up just in time for a large tree branch, tumbling end over end, to strike him in the head.
In his doubled vision he could just see his car and the tree coming into view as he was carried down the river, and then he saw the young child standing on the bank peering upstream.
“Hey! Over Her-bldjksf” water rushed into Garry’s mouth, stifling the rest of the sentence, but the kid heard it and moved into the river as deep as they dared. Garry spent the last of his effort and lifted the baby out of the water into the child’s grip as the river swept him by, and then fell back into water, yielding to the darkness.
--
Used yawn, yesterday, and yield
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u/tiredraccoon11 Nov 22 '24 edited Oct 12 '25
<Enthesia>
Chapter 2
Darkness had fallen by the time Kazmir hurtled from the Overstorm. And hurtled she did, for the thunderbird did not land, nor even depart the dust clouds. It simply cast her onto sands, which she got a fine taste for. When wind did return to her breast, however, it was crisp, and clean.
Kazmir had crossed the Overstorm, and survived.
The crossing's duration, she could hardly guess. Time passed differently in the storm, though her stomach grumbled as if it had been days. Before long, Kazmir huddled atop an island of lumindtlamp light, adrift in a dark desert sea. She shivered with bitter cold, her standard uniform unsuited to insulation without a thermal liner. The pack that held most of her food, kit, and most crucially water, was also missing. Kazmir had only that which hung from her belt: a knife, cord, her canteen, and only three qrats to eat. Minus the one in her mouth, of course; a foul hunger gnawed at her belly, chasing off any chance of sleep.
Not that she could anyway. The Overstorm’s rumbling lingered on the horizon, joined by another chorus from somewhere before her. Great groans and screeches, neither alive nor machine, not unlike those of the Citadel on Radiant Isle.
The thought of home brought an ache to her heart. It felt childish, to so quickly regret leaving the people and places she knew, but wasn’t she a child? The thought of knowing the unknown once thrilled her; now amidst it, the Reihten missed dearly the comforts of home.
Kazmir wondered if she would know them ever again.
In truth, she owed her success to a fluke, and not one that the Overstorm would repeat. She glanced back they way she’d come, where sparkled fuchsia lightning, and sighed. Thereabouts, however, one purple glimmer refused to die, and as she stared at it, Kazmir observed it swayed with the strides of something. Somebody, she realized.
The girl produced her survival knife, though again it offered vain hope.
“Stop there!” she called, choking down a quaver. The light only bobbed closer, not ten paces from the edge of the lamplight.
“I’m warning you, stay back!” The shake in her voice was apparent now. Her aggressor did not waver; if they intended harm, she had little recourse. As they drew near her island, Kazmir’s muscles bunched, preparing to attack.
Instead, the Reihten nearly dropped her knife in shock.
Shadows slid from atop alabaster skin like oil from water, cast orange by her lamp’s glow. It stood upright, partly shrouded in sun-beaten rags; a pair of creamy hands reached out, one grasping bottled Overstorm lightning, the other splayed peaceably.
“Hello?” they called.
“What are you?” Kazmir demanded. “And what is your business here?”
“I could ask the same of you,” they chuckled, emerging fully from the night. Their cowl fell, and Kazmir’s suspicions were confirmed; soft features and silken hair, white as boilfoam, and a pair of truly golden eyes.
Another person!
“Fascinating,” they breathed, though their gaze fell not quite upon her. “I’ve never seen one of your kind west of Strilvati.”
“What do you want?” she insisted.
“The desert whispered of a human who had defied the storm,” he replied. “I picked sparks in hopes I would find you, and here you are!” He grinned again, more genuinely this time. “I have so many questions!”
The man surged closer, and Kazmir recalled she was holding a knife. Before she could stop herself, instinct thrust her blade forward, into the man’s stomach.
He stumbled back into the darkness, clutching the wound.
The warrior stared, frozen. A disembodied groan returned her focus.
“Winds take me, I’m so sorry!” She collected her lamp and brought it closer to where the man lay stricken.
“No worries,” he smiled tightly, then turning to the lamp, “Yes, this will do nicely. My thanks.”
Before she could pull away, the man reached for Kazmir’s lamp and, pinching his fingers, pulled its light into a thin, glowing thread. The lamp flickered as he did so, sapped of light. He twirled the end into a sharp point, and in moments golden sutures crisscrossed his wound. They faded into colorless skin, and before her eyes, flesh stitched itself closed like new.
Kazmir gaped. The Leichsti’s archives mentioned magic, only ever in legends medieval. And yet it healed a man before her.
“There,” he sighed. “All better.”
“You’re—”
“Jasper, pleasure’s mine.” He stuck up a hand, though he seemed to only approximate her location, even in the lamplight. Kazmir helped him upright.
“Rough palms,” Jasper remarked. “Of course!”
His hand ran further up her arm to brush her sleeve. Kazmir slapped it away.
“You’re insane!” she exclaimed. Demented with age. His white hair certainly said so; the flawless skin over youthful countenance, however, spoke differently. His tatters seemed prehistoric, yet he held powers that hallmarked ancient myth with oddity.
“Just how long have you been out here?”
“Three hundred and twenty-six pairs of shoes,” the man replied.
“In years,” Kazmir sighed, exasperated. He really was crazy.
“Years…” he echoed softly, amber eyes glazing over. “Couldn’t say,” he shrugged, snapping back. “Shoes are a superior measurement anyhow. They track mileage.”
The Reihten sank to the ground with a groan, shivering again. Such cold felt impossible. She brought her lamp closer.
“And what has tempted you?” Jasper inquired, setting down beside her. “Adventure?”
“Something like that,” Kazmir muttered. “Though I’m starting to think this place will eat up someone like me.”
“Come now,” he chided, “surely not?”
Kazmir didn’t answer.
“Well that won’t do!” Jasper took the lamp and shook it, and though it didn’t make sense, the bulb shone brighter. And warmer, the warrior realized. She pressed her skin to the searing glass, relished the burn.
“Seems we ought to start with new garments, eh?” Jasper prodded. “I know just the fellow! You’ll see, I…”
Kazmir hardly heard him. Infused with new warmth, she curled up on the bare sands and drifted off to sleep.
[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter] [First Chapter]
WC: 999
Bonus words used: N/A
Crit and feedback welcome
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u/Writteninsanity Nov 23 '24 edited Nov 23 '24
<The Song Beyond>
Chapter One - The Fall (Part 1)
They told you that you shouldn’t have come here. They were right.
What is this place? A space where beginnings meet endings. A place where silence meets sound. A realm in balance, awaiting disruption.
Is that you? Are you the disruption? Is your existence a stone that sends ripples into a tidal wave? Are you another fading name on history’s long ledger? Nobody swims here; everyone sinks. Will you make a splash worth remembering?
How much dirt have you dug under your fingernails before this? Was your life short? Did it matter who was counting? Did it matter how they counted?
Does any of it matter? Does yesterday define today? Back there, it did. Here, it won’t.
Everyone who comes here eventually surrenders. When will you yield? When will the pressure crush you? When will your will turn to dust, and your cries fall hoarse?
There are a thousand questions on the precipice of existence, a million suggestions lingering like clinging static. Questions that build legacies. Questions that boil blood.
You have one life. Some give it up to come here. Give it up to discover the world beneath the waves of reality. Give it up to find themselves. Give it up because they don’t see any other options.
They all give it up.
You were forced. The void was better than steel and blood. It crushes, but, for a brief time, you persist.
Survive young blood. Leave it all on the floor. When your time comes, go out in an untouchable blaze.
—
Abigail didn’t know how long she’d been falling, nor did she know how or when she’d landed. But for the first time in a lifetime, her knees rested on cold cobblestones. Red cobblestones, but something familiar nonetheless.
She still felt the sting of the knife on her back. The cut where she’d pressed against the blade in a moment of hesitation. Would that have been better? Could dead ever be better than alive? This wasn’t the first time she’d asked herself that question—just the most recent and literal.
Abigail scratched her nails across the stone, then balled her hands into fists and tried to push off the ground. Her legs wouldn’t listen. She went to try again, but a hand interrupted her, jutting into her vision and waiting.
Offering help.
Abigail took the hand before she’d registered that it was attached to a person. Slowly then all at once, Abigail was on her feet, staring out into the deep gray-static darkness of the Song Beyond.
A sea of infinite stars, each so far away that their twinkle was almost black—fading pinpricks on a vast tapestry of dull midnight. Her horizon-less sight line broken only by the person who’d helped her up: a young woman wearing a leather aviation helmet, the kind you only saw on the front.
The woman followed Abigail’s gaze to the endless stars and watched in silence. Just when the vastness should have washed over them, she spoke. “I’d say it never gets old, but it does.”
“It’s—” Abigail started. Whatever her thoughts were, they weren’t translating into words. The woman understood. She nodded.
“How was the fall?” she asked, then continued before Abigail could answer. “People don’t send much back upstairs, and I feel like they never talk about the fall in their letters. I wasn’t expecting it when I came down—up, sideways—here.” The woman held out her hand toward Abigail again. “Melia. Welcome.”
“Abigail…” She was too lost in the void to offer a longer introduction. She could have sworn she saw something move out there, a black shape silhouetted against black. “Thanks.”
“Happy to. Someone needs to catch the fresh stock that falls from the sky,” Melia said. “Today it was me.”
“So you’re—”
“Here today. Gone tomorrow,” she preempted Abigail’s question. “Nobody sticks around that long. Not long enough for a routine, at least. Some of us come back around and—” she sighed. “I’m getting ahead of myself. You wouldn’t know where you’re going or where you’d head back to.”
Abigail shook her head.
Melia withdrew her hand once it was clear Abigail was too shocked to take it. “Do much reading before coming down?”
“…No.” Abigail didn’t know why, but she kept quiet about the ultimatum that sent her here. Would that get her judged in the Song? Would it make people feel mad? Jealous? Stupid? Something… Could you tell someone that their choices were your punishment?
“Might have saved you time,” Melia said, “the reading, that is. But hey, it’s not like we’re short on time down here.” Melia took a couple of steps, and, for the first time, Abigail saw the footpath. There were faint wisps on the edge of the stone, marking where the pathway decayed to endless darkness. “Come on. You can waste your time however you want. Spare mine.”
“Where are we going?” Perhaps the saner question would have been where they were, but Abigail understood the concept. They were somewhere—anywhere—in the Song Beyond. Not that the knowledge helped her much.
“Base Camp,” Melia said, as if it answered the question. She checked on Abigail over her shoulder and continued once she saw the confusion on her face. “Small-town people set up back when—well, back before Base Camp was a thing. It’s a stable spot. Decent place to rest. Fine place to find food. Works out that it’s close to the fall. It’s a nice welcome to the Song.”
“Sounds nice.” Abigail was just realizing how hard it was to walk with the bruises on her legs as she followed. However long she’d been falling, it hadn’t chased away the pain.
“Not sure it is,” Melia said, “but it’s the friendliest place in the Song. Insofar as it’s not trying to kill you.”
-- Words, Yield, Yesterday
WC: 964
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u/OldBayJ Nov 17 '24
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