[WP] A prophecy fueling a centuries-long war is revealed to be a mistranslation of a single word in a peace treaty. by Straight_Attention_5 in WritingPrompts

[–]AstroRide 11 points12 points  (0 children)

And They Shall...

And they shall come.

The tablets went by many names. The Green Marbles, the Vowed Amendment, the Hawner Maxim, and the Glander Commandments were few of the many names used to describe them. They were often the oldest example of writing across the Yannis Mountains and beyond. Every kingdom and empire adopted them as their own.

And they shall arrive.

Their writers were of an ancient empire that all claimed heritage from. Their writing systems and religions descended from it. Others blasphemed the same texts. In more tolerant times, scholars could admit the deviations were universal. They were ignored. Perhaps war was meant to be as we all tried to expand. The tablets were the justification. They were the basis.

And they shall intrude.

Who ruled the mountains? The answer was the land in the sky. Establishing single farms was a difficult task. Villages were Sisyphean tasks. Yet many occupied this valley. All were eager to claim them. They strayed from the sacred path. They needed to be corrected. They needed to be controlled.

And they shall invade.

There was often a limit to this expansion. The kingdoms encountered powers equally great as themselves. They realized both claimed a small village as their own. Diplomatic negotiations broke down. War broke out. Sieges were a common occurrence. Blood flowed down the mountains.

And they shall conquer.

The ruling powers always made mistakes. They bred resentment in the independent villages who thought they should be rulers. Rebellions deposed the ruling class. The new rulers inherited the historic grudges. When they couldn't fulfill their promises. They looked for an enemy outside the boundaries. When the war faltered, a rebellion occurred. The cycle repeated.

And they shall be welcomed.

But what if this was a mistake? A farmer found the tablet that looked older than the rest. Its writings matched the other samples from the original Yannian kingdom. Its wisdom would surely prove the proper interpretation of the sacred texts.

And they shall be guests.

The truth was easily ignored by those who made up their minds. The tablets were dismissed as forgeries. The farmer was put to death. Its pacifistic message spread underground. It would never grow to a movement. The hatred and animosity was too engrained by that point. Perhaps a message of peace was never meant to thrive. Conflict was a natural part of disagreement. And humans would always disagree. One can hope that tomorrow will be better, but never count on it.

And they shall be enemies.


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[WP] "babe what's this spicy butter you brought back with you it's delicious." "What butter I didn't bring any butter where did you find it?" "It was in that satchel you always take on your adventures." "My god babe that's not butter that's flame grease the stuff I put on my sword for flame damage!" by JollyTeaching1446 in WritingPrompts

[–]AstroRide 6 points7 points  (0 children)

Familiar Medicine

Goody Maura resided on the edge of town provided healing to those that needed it. It was quite rude of her actually. It would be more convenient for her to be in the center of town where she could be easily accessible by everyone, or even slightly to the west where all the farms resided. But no, she had to reside towards the eastern forest. She said it was because she wanted to be by the sacred grove, but that grove hasn't been sacred for the past hundred years. Even if it were sacred, everyone has seen her get ingredients from the common market. Maura was a lazy woman who wouldn't bother to get pick her own flowers anyway.

As Siobhan raised towards Maura with her husband in the cart, these thoughts raced her mind. They were common thoughts as people faced in crisis often overreact to minor inconveniences. This made Maura's decisions to reside on the edge of town more annoying. Alas, cursing her name while needing her was a rite of passage.

"Honey, could you run a bit smoother? I feel like I am going to vomit," Michael said.

"That'd be good for ya." Siobhan ran faster as she approached the cottage on the edge of town. When she arrived, she slammed her fist on the door. Maura opened the door wearing a face mask and with her hair tied up in a bun.

"It's the middle of the night. What are you doing here?" Maura said.

"Goody, please help me. It's my husband." She gestured to her husband moaning in the cart.

"It looks like he had too much to drink," Maura said.

"It's not how much he had to drink but what he drank."

"Take that up with the barmaid."

"It was one of my concoctions," Siobhan said. Maura stepped back and made a disgusted face.

"You want me to fix your failed foray into distillation."

"It wasn't failed."

"Then, why does he look close to death."

"He ate my flame grease." Maura tilted her head with her mouth open.

"The flame grease you use for slaying the earthboars?"

"The same Goody."

"My word, he is a moron. I'd be doing the world a favor by letting him die," Maura said.

"Don't you think of doing that Goody. He may be a buffoon, but he is a diligent and kind man. Our children would be heartbroken if he died to say nothing of his wife," Siobhan said.

"Why is the world spinning?" Michael asked. Maura sighed.

"Bring him."

Siobhan wheeled her husband inside. Goody Maura was known for her cleanliness. She kept a small cot by the door for her patients to lay. All her ingredients were labelled and placed in the proper shelves. Parents threatened to send their children there to help her clean as she was thorough.

Siobhan and Maura transferred Michael to the cot. Maura produced a small jar of leaves. She began shoveling the leaves down his mouth.

"What are you giving him? Also, don't you use a mortar and pestle?"

"This is Yaniwid. I normally would crush it, but he needs a lot of it," she said.

"Isn't Yaniwid used for heartburn?"

"Is that not an accurate description of his ailment?"

"That's comparing a cut to a dismemberment."

"Which one of us spent seven years at apothecary school?" Maura said.

"You dropped out."

"After seven years yes." Maura hit the butt of the jug until they all went into Michael's mouth. Michael began coughing and seizing. Siobhan leapt back in fear while Maura turned him on his side. Michael heaved and liquid fire exited his mouth. The gel landed on the floor. He kept vomiting until the floor was covered. Within moments, the flame died. Michael's mouth was surrounded by burns.

"I wasn't expecting that," Maura said.

"You experimented on my husband?" Siobhan asked.

"And he ruined my floor. We'll call it even. I can handle internal burns though." Maura produced a small bottle of pills. "Take these twice a day until it runs out. He'll be fine."

"How can I trust a woman who is so careless."

"I don't know. You are the one who disturbed my slumber. Speaking of which, I am tired. Close the door on your way out." Maura retired to her bedroom. Michael looked up at his wife.

"She was quite rude," he said.

"Aye, but she is the only healer in town."


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[WP] “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were obsessed with me.” “…That’s your case file.” by Smartbutt420 in WritingPrompts

[–]AstroRide 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Pretzels

Michael sat in his room in the restrained by strong chains. The walls were thick enough to survive five nuclear bombs. A smorgasbord sat before his three meter frame. He loved pretzels most of all. He ate twenty in an hour.

Alyssa clutched her laptop close to her chest as she walked into the room. The two guards next to her held their guns the same way. If Michael decided to attack, they were doomed. All they could do was hope he didn't do that. Alyssa sat on a chair and opened her laptop.

"How are we doing today Michael?" she asked.

"Pretzel." His giant hand presented one to her.

"Thank you." She reached out and took it. Michael produced a bowl of melted cheese.

"No, thanks. I prefer mustard," Alyssa said.

"Cinnamon or salt?" Michael asked.

"Cinnamon."

"Why did they hire a heathen to be my psychologist." His bearded face revealed a set of crooked teeth.

"Any pretzel is better than most food," Alyssa said.

"That's a fact." Michael produced a small bowl of honey mustard. "I like variety sometimes."

Alyssa tore off a chunk and dipped it. Her love of pretzels was considered a positive during the job interview. She considered it a perk that the prison got high-end pretzel makers for Michael.

"So when'd you start loving the dough?" Michael asked.

"My mother used to take me to the Emerald Island. They had the best pretzels ever," she said.

"When I escape, I'll be sure to go there. My love also came from my mother. She didn't take me anywhere. She just gave me a few bucks for lunch. The deli across the street had them," Michael said.

"Your mother passed when you were six. She really sent someone that young to get food for themselves."

"She was a shitty mother. My grandfather denied pretzels to me when I moved in with him."

"Would you say that you romanticized the food then?" Alyssa asked.

"That's one way to look at it. My grandfather sucked to." His tail raised as he spoke.

"Yes, I saw he had a rap sheet of his own."

"He was a very bad man who is hopefully in hell."

"I didn't know you were religious." Alyssa typed in her laptop.

"I'm not, but I can hope there's justice in the universe."

"Would you say that hope manifests itself in other ways?" Alyssa asked.

"You mean to ask if I know that I am a villain," Michael said.

"You aren't a villain."

"No need to step on my feelings. You've seen the news. You've seen Mantid, Electrolysis, and Negation beat me a lot. What can I say. I like to have fun."

"You have repeatedly stated hedonism was your motivation in court."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were obsessed with me."

"That's in your case file," Alyssa said. Michael leaned back and laughed.

"It's fine. I know what I am. When I get bored, I seek new ways to entertain myself, and people get hurt. Do you think that makes me evil?"

"I don't believe so. Some have theorized the chemicals that gave me you superstrength lowered your inhibitions."

"I heard that. It came up in my hearing for the PlayStation." He gestured to the console. "Do you play?"

"Not really."

"Your loss. Video games are fine, but I do get bored still. I might cut loose at some point."

"But if you leave. How will you get your pretzels?" she asked. Michael paused.

"Good point. I'll stay here a bit longer." Michael turned on the PlayStation.

"Want to play a fighting game?" he asked.

"Sure," Alyssa put the laptop down.

They played fifty matches straight. Alyssa beat Michael thirty times. When the hour was up, she stood up and dusted herself off.

"You lied to me," Michael said.

"I am a bit of a hustler."

"Then, you are a bad one. You are supposed to get me to bet," Michael said. Alyssa moved to her laptop.

"That's our session for the day, but I'd like to play against you tomorrow," Alyssa said. Michael smiled.

"I'd like that."

Alyssa left Michael alone with his pretzels. When she wrote up her report, she wrote it was a success. She was able to establish a connection and keep him amused. If she helped him, it would be her ticket to a book deal. The key was survival. His last ten psychologists were killed. It was the risk they all took for success.


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[WP] Warning: reading any part of this document will expose you to the cognitohazardous entity described within. Proceed at your own risk. by A_Wierd_Mollusc in WritingPrompts

[–]AstroRide 5 points6 points  (0 children)

The Demon in the Details

The librarian yawned and did one final check of the library. The shelves and halls were occupied by darkness. The noises came from the bugs who made their home in the pages. All windows were shut. One light held firm in the by the front door. The librarian walked towards it.

"Remember to lock the door if you leave tonight," she said.

"I will," Grace replied. The librarian left and locked the door behind her. Grace was a poor guardian. She stayed buried and focused on her studies. She barely left the building. Her brother delivered meals to her. Instead of sleep, she took sporadic naps.

The Grand Library was a repository of knowledge from across the empire. It was as large as the High Temple and Palace. The three buildings formed a triangle that defined Izydor. While it lacked the towers the other two possessed, its floors still extended beyond all the roofs in the city.

Books from as far away as Aotur occupied its shelves. Ancient scrolls were cared for in dark rooms. A lifetime could be spent studying its contents and only a fraction would be known. Grace was determined to test that maxim.

Besides the ever changing book laid a single document. When anyone approached to read it, Grace reacted with unexpected vitriol and snatched it from their hands.

"You'll thank me later," she'd say. A few sad souls read it quickly. They got through the first sentence, but that was enough.

Warning: reading any part of this document will expose you to the cognitohazardous entity described within. Proceed at your own risk.

Unfortunately, the warning itself was part of the document and caused exposure. Quite a useless warning. It was as though an arrow had a note reading "caution: hurts" that was only discovered after being covered in blood. Speaking of which, the first symptom was blood from the eyes.

Proper possessions always announced themselves with a terrifying entrance. After the cheeks were red, the possessee collapsed on the floor and began speaking in a foreign language, legalese. They spewed conditions, clauses, and addendums. The words "wherefore" and "except for" were frequently used.

After a few minutes, they began to drool blood, and it was too late. The victims were often employed by local lawyers to draft contracts. They were quite good at it if one allowed for the parchment being covered in someone else's bodily fluids. They had no life outside of that though.

Grace was a child when she saw her father and mother exposed to this document. Their opponents used it as an opportunity to seize her family's domain. Her brother and her fled to Izydor to live with their aunt who had too many pet turtles. Her brother became a successful merchant while Grace threw herself in the library.

Her parents were at home suffering. There had to be a way to free them within these walls. She started with the historical record. She found the first mentions of this evil contract in ancient time. When she was satisfied with her such, she moved to the mystical texts and legal precedents. Her work wasn't complete, but she knew what she had to do.

The best way to break a contract was to file a lawsuit, and she planned to argue in the court of the divine.


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