LET'S WRITE... !!!


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Unlike most of the Let's Write... series, this time it's up to you what you want to write. Fiction, non-fiction, short stories, poetry... whatever~

As always, there's no cap on what you write - it can be as dark or light as you want. We don't crib creativity in these topics.

If someone jumps in and starts demanding that others stop writing x or y, I'll just delete their posts.

That said, if you do write dark stuff be mindful of others. Always tag your work and hide it in tags so that people can jump past your posts with ease.

If you write something that is not safe for work, tag it in bold. Same with stuff that has triggering things in it such as rape, abuse, violence and the like.

Keep fanfiction in the fanfiction thread, please.
I feel bored. How odd.
I don't know what this is. I just randomly made it here and now.

The man stared at me, his dark red eyes burning into my vision. I don't know why he was doing so, but it creeped me out. Perhaps he was stalking me? I was a former writer, and a few of my books got famous. Though, the thought of a stalker didn't suprise me, but it did scare me quite a bit. It seemed like the man was about to leave, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, he lunged at me, grabbing my wrist.

Then, I fainted.
I wanna marry ALL the boys!! And Donna is a meanc
A quick story bit from a game I'm working on(and probably will never finish). I guess the tags would be slight violence and animal abuse?

Before I start the story I'll have to give a quick run-up of the game's gameplay.

The game's world is filled with monsters. However, people have been training these monsters. Some have them as pets and some are used in the army.

The day has finally come for the Trainers Royale, the big event held every 5 years. Our protagonist is participating with his trusty Kobold(you can choose your own pet in the game, but I'm just going for Kobold for the sake of this story). The host begins talking.

''Ladies and gentlemen! As you may know, we have 4 areas for battle. We have 8 participants who will battle here. The ones who lose will be out of the game, and the winners will fight against the winners. So we will go from 8 people to 4 people to 2 people to 1 winner! And after battle, we will send your pets inside and heal them right away!''. The host begins introducing all competitors one by one.

''In the first field, we have our fortune seeker Lady Melisa and her pet Wisp! And we also have our young and energetic villager Lucy with her pet Fairy!''

''My wisp can read all your moves dear.'' says Lady Melisa, ''this will be easy as pie''. ''Don't worry miss'' replies Lucy, ''Me and Pirluun will not let that happen!''

The host moves on. ''In the second field, we have last years's champion, our daring army captain, Madame Sophie and her pet Imp! And her opponent is a child from the village, Max, with his pet slime!''

''Don't think I'm gonna go easy on you, kid'' says Sophie in a cold, rude voice. ''That's fine miss! Let's both do our best!'' replies Max.

The host moves to the third field. ''In this field we have... uhh... this guy and... his dragon! And his opponent is Father Noah from the church and his pet Centaur!''.

The man is incredibly silent. Father Noah breaks the silence and says ''may the lord help us both.''

''And onto the last field!'' says the host. ''Here, we have our dear shopkeeper with his pet Goblin and our newcomer(protagonist)with his Kobold!''

''Let's make this a fair battle. I'm not giving you any advantages just because you are a big spender at my shop!'' says the shopkeeper. The protagonist does not respond, because he is a silent protagonist.

''And let's begin!'' shouts the host, and the battle between the participants begin.

Protagonist wins against Shopkeeper. Now we have 4 competitors left; the man with the dragon, the protagonist, the fortune teller and the army captain.

After a battle with the army captain, the protagonist loses. He leaves the field and sits down at the seats. ''Don't worry, ! You'll win next time for sure!'' says the protagonist's judge friend as she smiles.

The time has come for the final battle. The man with the dragon is facing off against the army captain. But something seems off... yes, something's definetly not right.

The ring goes off and the battle begins. The imp deals a blow on the dragon which causes it to fling backwards. It is the dragon's turn, but the dragon doesn't seem to be attacking. It's just looking at the imp, with sad eyes. People are looking confused. Eventually, the dragon's owner shouts.

''Come on! Fight you little crap!''

The dragon gets electrocuted infront of the whole audience.

Everyone gasps. People in the audience start muttering. ''I-Is that... a shock collar?!''

Everyone has a worried look on their face. The protagonist's friend shouts ''Stop it! Your pet doesn't want to fight!''

The man turns to the audience and responds, ''Ofcourse! Why the hell do you think he has this thing on!''

The girl turns to the protagonist, ''we have to do something!''

But as the man is distracted, he gets hit from behind and flies right out of the field. The dragon is standing up, with a look of anger on it's face. A guard jumps in, trying to stop the baby dragon. The dragon breathes fire at the guard. Luckily, the guard survives, but his armor is blazing hot. Ouch. The dragon attacks the captain's imp, knocking it out cold.

The host speaks. ''I knew it was weird I didn't know this guy's name... this person... they never did sign up''. Everyone has a look of fear on their face.
The protagonist jumps over the fence. All pets are knocked out, there's only humans around. What will he do now?

As I said, this is from my game, so any feedback is greatly appreciated ^^
The TM is for Totally Magical.
So, I've been wondering about including a little more about my book here. I can't begin to describe what I've done. I've written 600 pages, and yet only 160 pages form into a coherent story, and I'm constantly rewriting. So, I did a short story that I did in the torture let's write in which I gave readers here a glimpse of my main character. If you remember, a character named Dala was the villain of that story (although not the actual villain of the book). What I've written details a different scenario (the torture scene I wrote cannot happen if this scene ends up in my final draft). Anyway, this scene comes from a three chapter grouping I wrote. This is sort of the after math of what happens in those chapters. I've only just finished it, so if I choose to use it, it'll probably go through a few more changes.

Dala stood by Sabine, her face a stolid mask. They stood at opposite ends of the desk, facing each other rather than face Kona. Why Dala chose to, Sabine didn't know, but she chose to direct her anger at Dala. Sabine did not fear Kona. She wasn't the one that injured Nyssa or killed Donna, and though Dala stood by passively, she was just as responsible for what happened as Donna was.
Kona had heard from several acolytes present what had transpired. Gabriel had told her everything that had happened, but she wasn't as observant as Sabine. Kona was no fool. She knew that Donna was not permitted a sword. Kona's hands were balled into fists, her knuckles supporting her weight as she leaned against her desk, her anger reflected in its high-polished red mahogany surface. Finally, she brought Sabine and Dala to her office alone and heard Dala's statement. She honestly explained how the fight transpired, except that, like everyone else, she omitted the initial meeting at the rec room entrance.
Kona turned to Sabine. “Tell me, Sabine.”

So Sabine explained her observations. She was the only witness to speak of the initial meeting in the atrium. Kona listened to her story in silence, her eyes locked on Sabine the entire time. When Sabine finished, Kona stood straight and walked around the desk. She began pacing the office. This was when Sabine found her most intimidating. Kona's anger was building to the point that she could not contain it.

“So,” she said, “Donna was wearing the sword when you first met her, and nobody noticed?”

“Nyssa noticed. She was looking at it when Donna was threatening her.”

Kona snorted in disgust. “Nyssa probably figured she could handle it. I see now that I have to start teaching you that the only thing you need to know to kill with a weapon is that it can kill.”

Dala should have remained silent. Unfortunately, she didn't have much sense. “Nyssa still killed Donna and she didn't have to.”

Kona's eyes flashed. “I beg your pardon?” Dala took a step back, which was probably wise. “If you hadn't given Donna your sword, Nyssa wouldn't have had to defend herself at all.”

“She didn't know how to use it.” A note of panic was in Dala's voice.

“She didn't have to. So she wasn't an expert. She knew how to handle a weapon. That was enough, clearly, to anyone who has a lick of sense. Nyssa almost died, Donna is dead, and without that sword, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. They'd both be alive with nothing more than some broken bones. Those can be fixed.” She pounded her desk. “Donna cannot be fixed. Nyssa's voice cannot be fixed.” Each syllable, she emphasized with pound of her fist.

Kona closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She turned so that Sabine and Dala were both in her field of vision. She seemed to growl as she spoke. “We have never coddled our acolytes. We teach you to think for yourselves and how to think as a unit. We teach you the importance of looking out for one another. The rules are not in place to control you. They are there to protect all of us. They do not work if you flout them!”

Dala appeared to be shrinking. She sat down as if this were a lesson, trying to make herself less of a target.

“Stand up, Dala.” Dala scrambled as fast as she could, but Kona had no patience, closing the distance between them in two strides. She gripped Dala under the arm and lifted her to her feet. “And stay standing. You are not a child anymore.” Kona resumed pacing her office.

Dala's dark skin had reddened, making her even darker. Her lips were scrunched and her eyes were narrow, her eyebrows close together, clearly trying to keep from crying. “I didn't think it would go that far.”

“I'll agree that you didn't think.” Kona turned to Dala. “We grind this into your heads for years.” She counted off on her fingers. “Weapons are strictly prohibited in the common areas. You may not carry weapons in the building except for scheduled sparring practices. Weapons are not permitted in sporting tournaments.” She advanced until she was mere inches from Dala's face. “No acolyte may exchange weapons or permit another acolyte to carry a weapon that she is not registered to use.”

She returned to the other side of her desk and sat. She bowed her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Now Donna is dead and Nyssa will likely spend the rest of her life mute. Nyssa's reaction was appropriate. Her life was threatened and though she disarmed Donna, she was fatally wounded and had no reason to believe she was safe. Dala, you provided the weapon. You will be required to stand before the council.” Kona placed her open palms upon the desk. “I cannot tell you what the outcome may be. We've never had a murder within the Order in any of our lifetimes. You may even be dismissed.”
Dala turned pale. “It was a mistake.”

“This organization is most threatened when its members cannot abide our rules. I am dismissing you from your training as Kona. Perhaps that will convince the council to limit itself to more temporary forms of punishment. I would do it myself, but I don't have sole authority in cases like this. Dismissed.”

Dala nodded. “Dismissed?” She spoke the word as if it had a foreign sound.

“Just get out of my sight.”

Dala reluctantly turned and walked out the door, as if in a daze. Sabine could admit that the entire night had had a surrealistic feel to it. She turned to Kona and observed her. If Kona knew that Sabine was still there, she didn't let on.

Sabine said, “So, it's just me and Nyssa, now.”

“No. It's just you.”

“But Nyssa...you said yourself she was justified. Your decision isn't because she was overconfident about the sword?”

“No. No, everyone makes mistakes. I wouldn't punish anyone for an honest error in judgment. Nyssa will not be able to speak once she's recovered, or at least not very well. I think you understand how this could form a barrier to becoming a leader. It's an unacceptable limitation...and it's hardly her fault. I simply have no choice.”

Sabine nodded. She hated it, but she understood. “May I go down and see Nyssa?”

“No. She needs rest. See her tomorrow.” Kona looked up, as if surprised to see Sabine still there.

“I've never seen you so angry before.”

“Aren't you angry?”

Sabine shook her head. “I don't know. I feel like I should be. I think I'm more horrified than anything. I feel sick.”

Kona closed her eyes again. “You should. We all should.”

“This hasn't been a good day all around.” She looked to see if Kona would respond. When she didn't, Sabine said, “Will Nyssa be alright? I mean-I know she has a permanent injury to the neck, but...”

Kona's expression softened. “I am assured she'll be fine.” She looked deeply into Sabine's eyes.

This calmed Sabine more than anything else. Though she would never say it aloud, she could care less about Donna's death. It was something she felt like she shouldn't think. After all, one day, their lives could very well depend on one another. Donna and Dala had always been a selfish, spiteful pair, but to welcome one's death seemed a bit much. Trying to drive the thought from her mind, memories of her nightly dreams came to her. This only served to upset her even more. Her memories never left her; never gave her peace.

“Something troubles you.” Kona was perceptive as ever, or maybe she could read Sabine's mind. If she could, she never let on, but then again, she must be able to. Sabine's psychic ability was a prerequisite for training under Kona.

“It's not important, right now.”

“Sabine, tragedy is an expected part of our lives, and it will not get in the way of your education. I am not your mother. I am the priestess that is training you. Nyssa is strong enough to live without your tears. Tell me.”

Sabine lowered her head a moment, slightly chagrined. It was a mild rebuke. “I've been having...dreams. Am I a nomad?”

Kona's face was unreadable. “Nomad is not a race. It's a descriptive term. They're Plainsmen, Ice Harvesters, Gypsies, and a dozen other tribes.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“Then to answer your specific question, you are not a nomad. You are not a wanderer surviving off the land. You are an acolyte in a holy order being raised as defender and a fighting priestess.” She lowered her hand, a deep scowl on her face. “But to answer the question you're trying to ask; yes, you were found among one of those tribes.”

“Then, what...why...” but Sabine couldn't find her voice.

Kona sat forward, resting her elbows upon her desk. “Sabine, what are you hoping for? You can't honestly want to know how we took you from one of the nomadic tribes.”

“Then I was found during a cull.” Sabine looked down. Since the dawn of the Endless Winter, the Sisterhood had done everything in its power to keep civilization alive, to keep society running apace. There were habitat zones across the world that people lived in, submitting to the will of the government. Eugenics programs kept the populations in these habitat zones manageable. Nomads lived outside of the habitat zones and didn't submit to the government's eugenics programs. The Sisterhood kept a careful census of the tribes and when the nomad population became too large, organized culls to kill the excess population.

Sabine didn't know what she was supposed to feel. The Sisterhood usually recruited their acolytes from the habitat zones. It was only on occasion that children were brought from the culls. That was another benefit of the eugenics program; the Sisterhood had full medical details of all of its potential acolytes. They could choose the best of the best without fail.

Kona continued to observe Sabine. “ When you are sitting here, you'll see that they are necessary, and one day you'll find yourself facing an acolyte whose parents you had to cull.”

“Kill. At least call it what it is.”

Kona stared ahead, considering that. “Do you hate me, now?” The question was direct and held a hint of challenge.

This took Sabine by surprise. The distinct tone of the question, demanding an immediate answer as opposed to being an appeal, forced Sabine to face the question directly. “No.”

“You don't sound so sure.”

“I don't really remember my parents.”

“I see.”

Sabine didn't understand. What did she mean by that? Was Sabine supposed to hate Kona? “I should remember my parents.”

“You were very young. Rare is the child that can remember anything at the age you were when you were separated from your parents.”

Now, this made Sabine angry. “You know my mind is different. You know other people don't remember like I do. If I can recite word for word a book I haven't read in a decade, I should remember my parents.”

Kona was smiling. Damn it! She was smiling! She all but confessing to murdering Sabine's family and ripping her away from all that remained, and she was smiling. Fury rose in Sabine's chest as it came to her that only moments ago, they were discussing Nyssa, who was sleeping in an infirmary with a machine to help her breath. “Do you expect life to be of so little value to us?”

“The Earth is frozen. We have to feed a global population on a planet that can barely even support a tribal population. We have to let millions die each year, and we have to kill some that are too stubborn to die on their own or our entire species risks extinction. How should I quantify the value of life? Should we play favorites? Nyssa will survive and she will be a productive member of society. Tribes, if they are allowed to grow unchecked, become a drain on society. If you want to place value on life, try placing some value on your own life. You very nearly became a simple number in the Order's ledger, but we took you and made you into so much more.”

“I--” This had the feeling of a verbal attack. And yet Kona's voice remained so casual; so passive. “Slaughter is not economics!”

“And would you have said that before learning of your parents?”

It felt like her feet had been kicked out from under her, and she very nearly stumbled, for real. Of course, everything could be reduced to a variable. For her whole life, she had learned about the cullings, and that's all they had ever been: numbers on a report.

Kona stood and leaned forward until she was inches from Sabine. “The only time life has value is when you have a personal stake in it. Your family; your stake. That is all. I trust you won't forget.”

Sabine turned abruptly, walking quickly from the room. She knew that Kona was prodding her, goading her into an emotional reaction. Well, she succeeded, and Sabine could no longer stand to be in the room with her. She felt that if she had to continue facing that uncaring smile, she would lose herself. She didn't understand why she was so upset over two people she didn't even remember, or perhaps it was the fact that she couldn't remember them. There was nothing she couldn't remember. Nothing. Being unable to forget was a curse. Kona even often said that ignorance was a blessing. Was that why she couldn't remember? Because ignorance was a blessing?
I'll edit this later, not really feeling a creative drive atm.

Sarah just finished making breakfast for herself.
She overcooked the pancakes,
she forgot she was cooking eggs so they burnt.
The bacon was way to crispy and over cooked too.

She decided, she wasnt to hungry. She put her head into the deck and sobbed.
She wondered to her self, what summer was going to be like.
She was hoping it would be nice, but you really cant ever know.
Also you tend to expect more of the same really.

Ahah! Sarah laughed to her self!
They got me!

Snake eyes.
Sarah threw breakfast away and went to bed.

Then she had a dream.

“No! I will not have that!” Yelled Lorali in the war room.
Liam shook his head. “The Norths forces have taken almost all of the remaining southern regions...” Liam remarked. “We... Must surrender.”

Lorali clenched her fists and bit her lip. “No! T-there must be another way.”
A crazed soldier broke thouh on the intercom.

“T-the North's forces are here! Everyone in the village is commiting suicide in unison!”
“Oh god! They are making sure to get the blood all over me.”
“EVERYTHING IS LOST! OH FUCK” You hear the solider struggleing against some sort of creaure for a moment.

Lorali was at a lose. She was not sure what to do.

“Lorali!” Cried Liam. “We must surrender! If we are to survive we must surrender to the North's forces.” Lorali, took in Liams words into consideration. She knew she did not have much time left.
“Get the Leader of the North's forces on the line.”

“Y-yes mame! Right away mame.”

The leader of the North's forces was on the view screen.
Lorali began speaking.
“Sooo yeah, I tottally lost. I surrender. The south loses. Everyones dead now they kill them selves and they blame me for it too.” The North grinned.

“Ah yes my forces really did a number on yours didnt they? Well, I must say I have to thank my hard working scientists in the war labs. They really discovered some great tech that, the south. Just didn't have.” Lorali remained silent.

“Don't feel bad. What were you supposted to do agaisnt a vastly suprior army?”
Lorali wasn't really sure what to say. “Fuck off. Just get to the point.”
“Well!” Said the North. “I now claim the south as the new north of course. And...” The north paused.

“Y-yeah I guess I claim the south. Um, yeah I guess that's that.”
Lorali sighed “Okay well here is the paper work, just sign here and here.”
The North signed the paper work and then the south was now the new north.

Liam sighed a sigh of realive because they were still alive! Lorali span around in her chair.

Nomnomnomnomnomnomn deadeadaeadaeada

“Ahh fuck!” Yelled Lorali “I've really done and fucked up everything now and I just met Aqulia and Teren too...” She brings up the
Supreme Commander of the North on the view screen.
“A—a-ah.... Supreme C-commander? I have n-news!”
“Oh yeah? What is on thous mind Lorali? Thou art great.” Said Supreme Commander in a strangely eccentric voice.

“Ahhahahaaha, ahahha. ha. Well ugh. M-my former ally, the East, Sumida. Well the war was going greeeeaattt but then she nuked everything and obliterated all of our forces!”

“H-her, s-s-she even broke into my highly encrypted delta mainframe with her auxiliary hyperspace vortex capacitors, and all my intel was leaked, everything! Was quite a load off my server room,
god damn. Shes... very understanding, and open to possibilities.
She truly would rather die, then leave me.

Yumyum ice-cream!
Yay suicide cults!”

“What!!??!?! AH FUCK!!!! WHO THE FUCK IS SUMIDA?!?!!”
Supreme Commander began to smash things as there plan may be completely fucked up the fuck now.


Lorali was sweating bullets.

“I-I must rearrange the number strings c-commander! You should modulate your radioactive veins as the temporal server has began to overheat~ I just have to trace the servers... T-the expanding mainframe network should have reverse access, and I shale invert the overlays.
Before her forces arrive in the north.”

Lorali said very stressed.

“FUCK OFF! HAHAHHA I SHALE CRUSH HER PATHETIC FORCES!!!!!! You have not seen my true power yettttttt!!!!!!
God lord I'm hungry I want a burger T___T

Lorali grinned happily, “Yay! I believe in you! You can defeat Sumida!!!”
“As for how to handle this I'll make a game in MV in 3 days *shrug*”

Yip Yop Yop Yop Yop Yip.
I feel bored. How odd.
This story stems from a thing my grandfather once told me about a certain plant. I'm not sure if it's dark enough for any tags, but oh well.


Part 1 of 2 if I feel like finishing it.
“Another body, Jim?” A man asked into a telephone. He was at a payphone, talking to another police officer on the other side of the city. It was a dismal day out, rain had been pouring quite a bit recently, and to top it off, there had been a recent string of deaths, forcing the police to work overtime.
“Yes, Clyde, another body.” There was a deep sigh, obviously from Jim. He seemed annoyed, Clyde noted. Though, Jim always seemed annoyed, so it might have been nothing.
“Who was it?”
“David Wixon.”
“The botanist?” Clyde frowned. David Wixon was a friendly man, with a loving family. He was a botanist, but ran a flower shop on the side. Clyde had actually been there a few hours before buying that Japanese Blood Grass that was all the rage recently. Clyde didn’t know much more about him, but he felt pity for his family, as he did with all of the victims.
Victims? Was that right? It did seem unnatural, all of the recent bodies had been found covered with small scratch marks. Perhaps from an animal? But they were also drained of blood. It was an interesting enigma.
“Yeah. The botanist.” Jim sighed again. “Just come here, and check it out.”
“Fine, fine. I'll be over in a few minutes.” Clyde hung up the phone. His car had broken down recently, so he had taken the opportunity to exercise. Though, with the weather, it wasn't very fun. It was too bad that he had forgotten his umbrella, as the rain grew harder and harder with every minute.
Eventually, Clyde arrived at the “crime scene”, if one could call it that. It was Wixon’s Flowers, a small, but colorful shop. In the back would be Wixon's lab, where he examined various plants. However, Clyde was headed to the front desk. Jim was there, his body partially obscured by the desk, though, he was a tall man, and one could easily see his head just above the desk from far away.
“Hey.” Clyde smiled, before seeing Wixon's body, and turning the color of dry beach sand. Wixon's body was almost skin and bones, his entire body pale, as if he was under effect of Pallor Mortis, though Clyde knew immediately that he was not. His body had been drained of blood, rather neatly, as there was no blood in the surrounding area. Though, something was wrong. There, on the desk. There was Japanese Blood Grass, though there was something off about it, the color? It had gone from green with a small red tip previously, to a darker red, covering almost all of the plant. The grass had grown in size as well, much larger than it was previously? Though, Wixon could've changed out plants previously. Clyde realized that he should check the video footage, to see any suspicious events. There were no cameras in the other crime scenes, as they had all been homes, not well protected. However, the shop should have some form of footage.
“I know that look, Clyde.” Jim glanced at Clyde. “You want to check the footage. You've made that look at every crime scene we’ve ever been at together.”
Jim's observational abilities were very good apparently, similar to Clyde's, they truly made good partners.
“Too bad. The footage is missing.” Clyde sighed, he hoped that wasn't the response he would get, and he did. Continuing to stare at the blood grass, Clyde remember something.
“Hey, Jim. Do you have pictures of the previous crime scenes with you?”
“Yeah, we brought some copies.”
“Good, let me see them.”
Jim handed Clyde the copies. As he looked through them, he looked for that one thing connecting the deaths. The one thing that was at every scene of the crime. It was always there, always in the picture, always obvious, it's dark red color burning into Clyde's eyes.

Blood grass.

By the way, I accept extreme criticism, so please, tell me what you think.
When I'm back later tonight I'll see if I can fish any Crits out of my head for you odd.

I liked it non the less.
musings about.
life, time, dreams, peace/chaos, horticulture

Life's a dream;
Time it's self is the illusion,
A divine, transcendent framework.

With the black abyss at it's base.
The universe is chaotic.
Not peaceful.

With an ivory tower built inside;
Peace can be cultivated.
It can grow.

Within the chaos.
prologue of a lovestory i began writing 2 years ago...

"Zoooooe!" “ZOOEEE!!!!”

Xoe could hear their distant voice calling and so she felt her heart glow with hope.
It was a voice which she had not heard in so long that she thought it would never be heard again.
Xoe had lost all hope, and did not think they were coming to save her again from TriTech...

N-nai-to... Naito? Is that you..?
“Zooeee! Wheru aaaa yu? We mus go naoooo!"
Xoe tried opening their mouth but could not. “I-i'm h-e-re”

Night burst though the walls with his cyberbike, he had found Xoe!


Xoe managed to make a weak smile. She could no longer remember when she had met Night that one night, or how he saved her last time. Time blurred together for Xoe, as she had visited countless different points in time and space. But she remembered his image.
A super cool awesome looking dark robotic enigma, with cool cyber yellow sunglasses.
Kind of looked like some kind of samurai with a cool cyber yellow belt, too.

“Zoe! We mus go to mai home town Nihon. I kannuto gaaaarunte yur sefuti hero!! Chime is sh-oto.”
Tears of joy began to flow from Xoe's eyes.
I feel bored. How odd.
I don't even know.

TAGS: Horror?, terrible writing (Yes, I'm aware that's just priming you).

The boy was dead, too. Or, at least, he would be soon enough, if he didn’t manage to get out of the chains. Why would Graven have tied him to the pole? Where did he even get the chains from? Why him? There were plenty other in the group, and the boy was the most useful by far. He glanced outside, it was near sundown. The boy gulped, soon they would be there to turn him. If they did, with his abilities, everyone would be doomed. Unless… there was another like him, another person with his abilities, or at least similar ones. There were some places shielded, wasn’t there? The virus may have not spread there yet.
Suddenly, the boy heard a sound, it was dark now. They would come out to turn him into one of their hive. A bloody, small hand reached out from the darkness, followed by the body of a small child, probably five or six. The child, a small boy, looked completely normal. The boy sighed, perhaps he was saved. Then, he saw the monster. A swelling mass was attacked to the back of the child’s head, connected to a long tentacle-like appendage. The appendage was long, and the boy could hear deep breathing, whispering in his ear. Another appendage flew out towards the boy, and the attached itself to the back of his head. He screamed as his mind was overloaded, his brain filled with conflicting memories and feelings, before his original memories disappeared. His body fell limp, and another appendage ripped off the chains, pulling his body into the massive form that the appendages were connected to. He would be completely absorbed soon enough, the monster, the Biophage, devouring his very being, gaining memories, powers, and the ability to recreate his body as a puppet.
The world was ending.

He said to dig. So here I am, digging. It’s my grave. Strange thoughts come to me, like, how perfect should I make this grave? Is it wrong to slack on the details to save me some grief before I die, or would I prefer a nice straight edged rectangle?

It’s hard. I’ve barely had to dig a hole before, and now I’m expected to dig a six foot trench. I’m scared to take a break.

I wonder what they would do if the shovel broke? Do they have spares?
For the first few feet, I wondered if I was fast enough to maybe take them down with the shovel before they got a well-aimed round off. I didn’t try it. Why didn’t I try it? Maybe they would have made me keep digging with a few broken fingers.

I’m done now. I’m so tired I actually want to die. Just waiting for the bullet. I can’t stop staring into the hole. The blazing headlights highlight the rim – a near perfect rectangle cut out of the earth like a birthday cake. Beside it, a pile of dirt. My body contemplates what it would feel like crushed under all that earth. Still, I stare into the hole. It’s a hole, made just for me. I almost fall in, drawn by the suggestive power.

I don’t think about my family. I don’t think about the unfairness. What bugs me the most, though, staring at the rim, is the tiny mistake I made in the top right co

I feel bored. How odd.
Okay, that ended pretty hilariously. Was the main character killed? Did they fall in? Will there ever be symmetry for the hole? Find out never, on "DIG".
Exciting! ^^ I love what everyone is coming up with so far! interesting stuff! :D

okay, here's a little poetry I decided to do now:

The Light pouring sky:

Hear my heart! oh, skies above
This sleeping eyes long to see,
Your ever wandering rays of hope!

I hear the angels' voice so pure,
With every note another step
Towards the stairs which leads up high!

I do my best to ride the flow,
But the beautiful sounds' so hard to know!
Oh, Sky! Why the music soothes me so?
Hexatona's right.
I need to get over myself and start writing some horrible things.

On the plus side people really like reading that kind of stuff...
It's all over every corner of human media!

Today's news!
An old elderly lady was run over by a drunk semi truck driver.
She was killed instantly.
Next up, a man went into a coffee shop and shot everyone up.
In a shoot out, 4 policemen were injured and one was killed.
The man was killed on scene via a shot to the head.
Next up.
A man broke into the cities zoo at night, they were eaten by a crocodile.
Certified Godot convert.
I should try... no?

tags: some kind of spoiler to a game idk, inspired by price idk

For all I know, this is my tribute to those who have done the impossible... to carry such tasks that makes people know that reality is unrealistic, that fiction is somewhat akin to what we are. Those RPGMHGs that people would love to the brink of their lives are just a pint-sized dream compared to what I'm seeing right now. They outrun hunters, I outrun killing machines. They solve their puzzles, I blow them up to smithereens. The verge is near and our enemy is desperate. As a breath from a dragon's mouth releases, so shall their fury unleashed upon us.

For those who have willed their lives, for those who have lost hope, for those who have never reached the light's glimmering end... we go forth this invisible path that no one has yet reached. Like a breath from the earth... WE. WILL. ESCAPE.
here is my writting xD This story is a little dark. Just for you know.
tags: dark, death, suicide...
My birth was in germany, in 1970. I lived my infancy medium class family, nothing unusal. My name was Schatten bartsch. My family was a normal family. There were no much problems there. I had no brothers but when I was small I never felt lonely. I had some friends in school and in highschool. I was a normal guy, with a normal life and a normal family. But I changed, I destroyed everything. That day, the cursed dsy in which I started to have fear. January, 1989. My age was 19. I went to my house, which I shared with my girlfriend. When I opened the door a rotten scent enbraced my senses. It was quite disgusting. Inside my house I saw my girlfriend body hanged in the common room. Her face looked yellow and her tonge was purple. I was schoked but I hanged out her body and called the police. That day was haunting me for years. Now I have no fear in remebering that day but it's cost me a lot to forget it. On nobember, in the same year, something similar happened to me again. I was in a pub speaking with a friend of mine. Suddenly, a guy who was near started vomiting some kind of foam. He was dying of an epilepsy attack. I was quite scared and disgusted. Thanks to thoose two things, I became paranoid. I was so paranoid than I moved to another town, to scape from her. But it was in vain. In july of 1991 I was in a friend's house. We where sharing some heroin. We wrre having a good time. I felt sleep there. Wen I woke up my friend face was yellow, his eyes where gone and his tonge was blue. I was sscsrelared. Also there were many policemans inside the house. I thanks a lot that I'm alive now. But that day was the trigger of my obssesion by her. I just realised I couldn't scape from her. She was upon my way, she was destroying everything I meet. That day I started my journey into the darkness and into her thoughts. Death, you're my demon and saviour.
It started out as a game.

I don't know if you could really even call it a game, it was just some dumb thing you did with your friends to show who was the most badass.

There was a rumour around school that there was a way up. A way outside.

I should know, I started the rumour.

I had made something of a habit of wandering around in places most people just tended to ignore. It wasn't small, down here - there were so many maintenance tunnels, nooks, crannies, and sealed doors that you could spend a lifetime searching them all. But one day I happened upon a worn out sign, fallen down in a grimy corner. It read: "Intake Hall."

Following that led me to a large series of rooms, halls, storage areas - all heaped with dust. One or two light fixtures still worked, but the rest was all hidden in darkness.

That's when I saw it - "Entrance"

The quadruple-wide door was choked with dirt, rocks, water, and mold. When I approached and shone my pocket light inside I saw what must have been an enormous tunnel, completely filled by cave in. Badly faded paint on the wall read: "1000 meters"

So, the next day, I brought someone. Then we brough more people. Then they brought some people. And now, it was a bit of a game.

Everyone liked to pretend it was risky, or dangerous. For fun. But, that was a lie. We were scared of the surface, true, but that tunnel was completely blocked off.

Why were we scared? Because my grandpa was scared? It was one of those things you never even really thought about. We don't want to go outside - otherwise we'd have already gone. The floor is hard. We breathe air. We don't go outside - all immutable facts about the universe.

Still, I found myself coming back, over and over. Looking over all the rocks, all the dirt. Were we really sealed in?

Only, last time was different. I looked up, past what I assumed was a low, shadowy roof. A tiny, dim red bulb. Next to it was a sign. "Service"
And, barely visible, was a rusty metal door, on a rusty metal grill.

Beside a rusty, almost disintegrated, ladder.


I left a note at the entrance. I couldn't stay here anymore. I hope they understand.

Today, I came prepared for a long journey.

I need to know.

And then... I promise... I'll come back and show you too.

I would have more makerscore If I did things.
here's some of my narrative essay far.

Nothing grotesque, mostly psychological.
Your first tastes of fear never prepare you for true terror. Sure, the darkness is scary, and you always want to turn on the lights to ward off the unknown, and you can always flee from spiders and insects, or pluck up enough courage to smash it with a shoe or throw something at it. However those fears are trivial compared to the gripping terror of something you don’t think you can stop. It’s the things you can’t run away from, things that seem unavoidable and unstoppable that truly wrack your soul. It’s not like darkness, you can see and know what the enemy is, you can know when it will strike and how, but you won’t be able to do a thing about it. You’re in it’s clutches and it seems all hope is lost, and you’re doomed to die. You’d need a miracle to save you.
On a gorgeous summer day, at a pool party behind a classic suburban house, a boy walked around the pool, confident and calm in his ability to swim. He wasn’t allowed in the deep end and he didn’t argue, obvious danger was best to be avoided. The other children were as rambunctious as ever and swimming around the pool, deep end included, having a great time. Inflatable tubes were being used as rafts, beach balls as cannon balls, and the pool as the high seas. The parents, meanwhile, relaxed near and in the house, out of the beating summer sun. Carefree and enjoying the company of the other adults, they had no worries about their children. Their children were all smart and would never do something too dangerous. They weren’t completely trusting that they wouldn’t make a small mistake, like splashing each other in the eyes or tripping on the poolside, but those could be dealt with easily and quickly. A quick reprimand and a bandaid would solve most problems children could get into. The boy himself was rather bored, not seeming to enjoy anything about the party. After some debating, he finally decided getting into the pool would be nice, and proceeded to storm down the steps into the shallow end, surging through the water with little grace. The crispness contrasted the dripping mugginess of the hot day and soothed the boy. He began to float around, relaxing and enjoying the water. The scene was so calm to him; the adults were rather quiet and mostly out of earshot, the children were laughing and playing in the deep end, and overall it was pleasant. This party turned out not to be a waste of time. However, his impatience and the general desire of youth for change overcame him and he began fooling around. He tried to run around in t water, which proved to be impossible yet entertaining as his legs surged forward and backward, yet his torso never moved.
One of my short stories for my story characters.

Grey Magus: Trails
Grey and Garland Theofoar had been sent out to Herron Pass and surrounding areas the day after the attack, a three days ride with no trace of the prince fallen from the high road. This left the Queen in despair, but as Garland had put it, gave some hope of the young heir’s survival. Grey could not disagree, but being whisked away without evidence was too fanciful to put hopes in.

Even so, these last few years had put considerable strain on Grey at this point. Sleep was tiresome and the days past without fruit for his labor. Even his betrothal to Cecilie had been delayed on account of time away, but out of some madness of her own, she remained patient. And here it was now, this letter left on his desk without messenger.

“To Bergho by steed, continue hence to find thy Prince.” It read in Olde Dalorian, writing only learned would understand.

The young prince. It need not say more. Grey bolted out his office for the nearest envoy. His feet had to be restrained from carrying him straight to his manteen while his mind instructed him the proper course. This was urgent, dire, and he felt time of the most essence.

“Sellen!” Grey called to a fellow knight, engaged in conversation through an open door.

“Yes?” he replied, noting the urgency in Grey’s voice.

“Who’s the envoy?”

“I believe Gwendle. Last I saw she was by the commissary—”

Grey was already gone before Sellen could finish.

Even with hope literally in his grasp, something did not sit well with him. Not that a furtive letter speaking of the prince was clue enough, but the timing as well.

The commissary hall held few during the hour save those taking a spell from their duties. It did not take long before Grey’s sharp eye found Gwendle engaged with an official, parting a message before heading on.

He waited about shortly before urgency overtook him and thought to politely as possible interrupt, but thankfully she broke away just as he approached.

“Gwendle.” Grey addressed, catching her attention.

“Ah, Ser Patrick. How can I help you?” asked the freckled dame.

“A letter was left for me earlier. I need know who delivered it.”

The girl thought a moment, nudging a finger beneath her lip. “Hm, all I can recall Ser is that it was already left to be delivered. No one made mention of the deliverer.”

It seemed a small chance then that anything amiss could be learned. Just as easy to pay a currier or merchant to deliver it without knowing. The trail of the recipient ended cold, all there left to do was follow the trail they left him.

“Grey!” he heard called out as he hurried to the stables.

Upon looking back, Garland headed his way. Impeccable timing, this man had.

Before Garland could put in a word, Grey was quick with the tongue. “I’ve a lead on the prince.” he whispered to his friend.

It was all that need be said for Garland to freeze in his tracks, his face stripped off character before the shock released him. “How?”

“I cannot explain now, but here.” Grey passed on the letter to which Garland examined it quickly before closing it.

“You will go alone.” he confirmed first with his steely blue eyes.

Grey nodded. “Too little time to make a plan. See what you can learn of this letter. If I can send word, I shall. If you don’t hear from me in reasonable time, you know what need be done.”
Garland withheld his hesitance, understanding the risk to not outweigh his comrade’s skill. “I will speak to Cecielle for you then.”

And then there was that matter. Without a word Grey smiled, patting Garland on his pauldron and continued on.

The two men understood one another well; howbeit it was through the sword of rivalry, Grey could find no other more worthy of trust and respect he had earned at his age. They knew one another through their fathers growing up, possibly would have been good friends if Garland had not spent so much time in study. That was the kind of person he was though and earned where he stood.

Grey mounted his faithful Sauren and raced from Nuefrost from the east passage. Directly overhead as he came into the pale morning light hissed and roared the engines of an air-car. A trade type from its bulky body and yellow sails.

Bergho was a bordering town between the realms of Nuefraust and Midwan. Formerly the main route of trade ten years before Veronica Hope was built. A question arose from this because what the letter said and the different between Veronica Hope and Bergho. Bergho had no air cars or aerial transports.

Since the Unified Pact, the Huema kingdoms formed a treaty with the Aerolite of Gale and Ariem of Aludra. Benefiting greatly from Gale, their advancements and understanding in mechanization were beyond them. Veronica stemmed from this while Bergho was faded from memory.

Arriving at a pasture known as a marker three miles of Bergho, he felt this good a place as any for an encounter. The fold was empty just a ways down into the stony plain, while a shack and old stone remnant of the past scattered to the right of the path. Traveling light, he wore a blue vest with chain links worked beneath the fabric and an old pair of leather trousers and boots. The only real armor he allowed himself was for his shield-arm. Cloaked over by a thick fur cape to protect from the wintry heights.

Aside from the old shepherd there was none else until descending midway down the mountain where Bergho rested. From here he had eye-level view of the magnificent silver thrones whose peaks shine like polished steel in the golden light. He wondered if all he beheld now would be choked out with black towers of smoke, the steam of ammunition ships and echoes of steel and battle-cries. Even though beauty was before him, Grey knew such things had come to pass before his time.
“By which way ye go, noble one?” Grey suddenly heard.

Startled, he nearly went for his dagger. Catching the figure of a man in his peripheral, it was hard to hide his alarm at being snuck up on at such close range. His manteen stood firm, snorting in contention at his master’s riling. Grey clenched down hard on his teeth as he faced the stranger.

“Was I to me you here?” he snapped.

The man held his peace, holding out an extended hand. Between his fingers was another slip of paper similar in off-tone color to the one found on his desk. There was no doubt, but…
Grey examined the man further for a moment. He did not recognize him of course, but bore all the features of a Nuefrolian from his keen, thin shaped nose and dulling beryl hairs of his head; countenance was unmistakable of a mountain dweller from his blistered cheeks from the north winds, wool attire that carried the scent of salt ore. A young miner, perhaps. However, his eyes stayed fixed upon Grey before he noticed they had not blinked.

Unsure what to make of it as he sensed no threat of danger, he steered his manteen closer. This was only a messenger paid coin for their part. “Let’s have it then.” Grey muttered, his left eye still locked with the strange fellow. As started to snatch away the letter, the image of Cecilie’s eerie old dolls in her mother’s house came to mind. It then became obvious to Grey once he paid closer attention. Trained in magik artes to combat Isalme’s knights, squires are taught to sense the life force of all things in order to measure levels of exposure to the abyss. This man had none.

It was too late to let go now. In a moment’s breath, Grey saw the thin glimmer of a string snap from the man’s index.

“Ho!” he shouted to his steed, but in vain. In a vaporous cloud the man was consumed and the force of the trap bomb lifted even Sauren from his hooves. He had just enough time to free his right leg and roll clear of the large animal, saving him from a crushed leg. He felt no real harm done. He’d been through worst blasts in his experiences. He had a permanent reminder, after all.

Quick to his feet, Grey steadied himself on knee and threw back his cloak as his broadsword sung into the highland air. White drags of steamy breath pumped from his lungs. The only movements before him were that of Sauren dragging himself to his feet, also relatively unharmed and the powdery smoke lifting into the air. That wasn’t meant to kill him, but what was coming next may well be.

His ear caught wind as it cut through the air, its steel vibrating a low pitch as it quickened toward the back of Grey’s head. Spinning about, he guarded what vital parts he could with his shield-arm and struck forth with the flat of the blade. The object struck and ricochet off, now leaving seconds before Grey expected the actual assault. He felt the heat within his tight grip as the blade began to hum louder as it coursed to the tip.

As the fire splintered forth from his sword, he plunged the blade into the ground. He felt the solid earth splinter and melt away and heat writhe about him in a ring of scorching fire. He heard someone cry out, licked by the flames before they could pause their strike. Behind! Grey drew his dagger dagger in a flash in a whirl of black ash as he came face to face with the attacker.

Clad in strange, black garbs from head to toe, he was able to lock gaze with the shocked assassin. Bright green eyes flashed as his dagger sought a place in his throat. To Grey’s astonishment, the blade was caught just before piercing through fabric between the palms of the masked assailant’s hands. Quickly letting go as a swift boot was about to be planted in his gut, Grey reach back for the grip of his blade and sent it splintering with earth and fire in hopes to catch them before getting to their feet.

Again they proved too fast. Another plume of white smoke erupted where they crouched and a gust of wind sent heat and debris back into Grey’s face. Keeping his foot planted as he retreated back, he knew it was over as he cursed beneath his breath. It was a brief distraction, but enough for the assassin to make their escape. At least this was twice they had failed in their objective.

Grey stood before the deep gash in the road and inhaled deep of the scorched soil. Only the peaceful howl of a mountain breeze that cooled his sudden exertion. He brushed back his disheveled length of hair and searched about for his mount. Ran off down the path more than likely. It wasn’t going anywhere he wasn’t. Sheathing his arms, Grey searched about the ground for the letter lost in the fray. He did happen upon a star shaped object lodged in the pasture fence.

Same as what was left behind Herron Pass. He glanced over at what had been the puppeteer body of the poor soul. Nothing left but tatters and blasted dirt. Someone got to the messenger first; it made little sense to attack him upon following direction. Now he knew two forces were at work here besides his own.

I feel bored. How odd.
Here's something boring.

Tags: I don't know, I guess gore?
He steps forward, the blade in his hand glinting, from both the polished steel, and the blood left on it from when he stabbed you in the stomach. You try to run, but blood is quickly draining from the hole in your flesh. He quickly catches up, moving at a pace seemingly impossible for a normal human. Grabbing your neck, he pulls you backwards, and you fall onto the cement. Using the knife, he delicately slices a line in your flesh. You scream in pain and fear, but you know that no one will come, they were already dead. Placing his hand inside the hole made using the knife, he forces your stomach open, pulling out the various organs from inside your body. You've lost consciousness from the blood loss, and pain by now, and you know that you won't wake up. He continues removing your organs while you drift asleep, his gloved hands occasionally bumping your bloodied skin. Working his way up, he cuts open your chest, before throwing the knife aside. He doesn't need it, he has what he wants. Removing your rib cage ever so slowly, he reaches into your open chest, and rips it out. Your heart, beating its last beats. He bites into it, chewing away at the organ, slowly mutilating it, like he did to the rest of your body, and those of your deceased friends. He smiles, content, before standing up, and walking away, wiping the blood from his face. Truly, he was a demon in a man's body.
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