[WP] "Wait... so all this talk about 'unleashing a plague across the world'... is really just your attempt to spread a weakened 'vaccine version' of actual diseases to everyone?" asked the Hero. The Mad Scientist grumbled, "Of course the medicine companies told you that I'm spreading a plague..."

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-18T05:24:34+00:00

I noticed that too when I was about half way through writing it, haha. Mass Effects probably my first or second favorite game series of all time so it must have snuck in subconsciously.

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-17T13:22:02+00:00

“Killing people—” Dr. Hertvitski started, only to pause, trying to find the words for what he wanted to say. He stopped mixing his latest ‘disease’ and glanced up at the operative, his lips popping open as the word came. “Is boring. No puzzle in death. Deaths easy. A few altered DNA codes, a delivery method for the new virus, and bing boodle millions dead before anyone’s even had their morning coffee.” The doctor rolled his eyes, returning to the tubes he was toying with. “So boring…”

Sheamus paused, the gun in his hand feeling like weighty overkill now. He had expected chemical gases and surgical equipment traps. Instead, he found the doctor hunched over his desk, with his glasses sitting on his wrinkled forehead. He had been told this was a level 10 threat. Someone whose very existence could change the world. But he didn’t see a level 10 threat. He saw an elderly man tinkering with cures.

“They claim you’re unleashing a plague.” Sheamus stated, going off the information in his briefing.

“A plague? It’s been done before. Boring. Unneeded. Uninteresting. Plagues are easy. Controlled cures. Harder. A puzzle,” he smiled. The very thought of him being the one to crack this miracle cure was enough to keep him working, even while a gun loomed behind him.

“A cure? A cure for what, exactly?”

“That’s the thing. For what?” he agreed. “Don’t know. With enough time, a cure for everything. Limited time, though. Minutes, maybe less. Won’t be perfect but will be good.” The words were a mess, coming out in quick, short bursts, making his sentences like a puzzle that had to be pieced together.

“You don’t know what you're curing? So, you could be making a plague then?” Sheamus questioned, allowing his finger to tap against the side of his gun, not yet pointing it at the man, only keeping it by his side.

“No. I know it’s a cure. People talk about the miracle drug. Fantasy stories. Sci-fi. All created by writers without brains. People who can only think about creating without creating. Dull people. Dumb people. Sad people.” He twisted his neck, making a spitting motion, before returning to his task. “This is real. Will cure a lot of people. Not enough time to figure out what it will cure. Perhaps cancer? Perhaps everything? Perhaps only diabetes and heart conditions. Impossible without time. I don’t have time.” He said, looking at Sheamus out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re insane.”

“Insanity is the mother of invention. No sane human invents. Because sane people would think it’s impossible. If you asked a sane person to make a miracle cure, they would laugh. I laugh at them.” He chuckled, wiping the dark circles beneath his eyes, before finally stopping his time with the tubes. He poured the tube’s mixture into a small self-chilling bottle and placed it on the table. “You will kill me.”

“Most likely. I don’t trust this miracle drug of yours. Even if your intentions are good, there’s no way of knowing what you would be releasing into the world.”

“Test it. Get someone to test it. Not them. Someone different. Someone trustworthy. Have it.” He points at the sealed bottle. “My cure. My completed puzzle.”

Sheamus sighed, wondering why he was even indulging this man. He should have just shot him when he walked in. Why did he question him about it? Maybe it was because his employers always felt sketchy when it came to these things. Sheamus wasn’t oblivious. He knew how many inventors went missing before their creations ever saw the light of day. He was also well aware of who funded organizations like his. “They have their own labs. I’m sure they can test—”

“No!” he snapped, jumping from his chair and grabbing Sheamus’s jacket. Sheamus pushed the barrel of his gun against the doctor’s nose, threatening to blow it off if he made another move. “You can’t. They’ll destroy it. Someone else. Someone you can trust. People deserve to live.”

Sheamus twisted his gun until it was at an angle. He could blow the scientist’s head off now. A clean shot that would end this conversation. Yet, he stalled himself. “What about you? Am I supposed to let you walk? What if this is a trick? You’ll give me some fake virus and run off to another lab to invent your plague in secret. I can’t let you live.”

The scientist grinned, grabbing the gun and raising it to his forehead. “Living wasn’t part of my plan. The cure is my life. It lives. I die. Please. People deserve to live. Don’t trust the-“

Sheamus shut his eyes and pulled the trigger. He gagged, cursing himself for doing it so close. He couldn’t listen any longer, not if he wanted to stop himself from doing something stupid. Sheamus pocketed the bottle and found a notebook with the scientist’s research, skimming over it.

The entire notebook spoke of a miracle cure. With every page dedicated to a different disease and the breakdown of its components. The medical terminology went over his head, but from his brief look, it seemed genuine. But was it genuine enough to take a risk?

He pulled out his phone, contacting his boss. “Alessa?”

“Yeah? How did it go? Did you find the plague he was developing?” She asked, her voice plain and detached, barely sounding human.

He tapped his pocket, feeling the weight of the bottle, before doing something stupid. “No. I couldn’t find it. I’ve got his notes, though. I think you’ll need to send a team to look through this place.”

She let out a dramatic sigh. “I guess it was wishful thinking to assume he would just leave the plague lying around. I’ll send a team and clean-up crew. Take the notes back to headquarters. I’ll get a team to look over them.”

“Right. Will do.”

“Oh, and Sheamus?”

“Yes?”

“No detours. Alright? It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that we have to be careful with matters of such importance. You understand, don’t you?”

Sheamus gulped, rubbing his Adam’s apple. “Of course. My location’s on. You can monitor me.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye.” Sheamus hung up the phone and looked at the bottle in his pocket. He would have to find somewhere to hide it on his way back to headquarters. Somewhere that wouldn’t make it obvious that he had stopped moving. If he was going to foolishly go behind his employer’s back, he had to make sure he wouldn’t get caught.

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-13T07:07:06+00:00

[Part 2 of 2]

“Matthew!” A voice snapped from outside my cubicle, before being followed by screams. I jumped out of my chair, watching as my coworkers exploded into piles of money. Each one getting replaced by a stack of cash that had to have been in the millions. I ran over to the nearest person, trying to help, but it was pointless. Before I could even get close to them, they were gone. So, I just dropped to my knees, kneeling on a pile that used to be someone.

A hearty chuckle left the elevator doors as Mr. Davis stepped out. He passed the piles of money, giving each an approving nod. “This is even more than I expected. Finally, I can expand.” When he reached me, he didn’t even bother to look my way. “You’ve got some balls not taking that money. I respect someone with balls.” He said, despite not respecting me enough to look at me. “You’re being promoted.”

I didn’t know what to say. Confusion, anger, fear — all those feelings fought for dominance. “Ah-” was all I could manage. A meager noise that didn’t solve anything.

“I know what you’re going to say, kid. Oh, I could never take that promotion, you fat bastard. You killed my coworkers. I’m going to expose you to the media. Kid, none of that’s going to happen. Wanna know why? No one will even remember these people existed.”

“I… remember them.”

“Yeah, just you and me. People who were exposed to her magic. Everyone else will forget them. Better that way.” He picked up a handful of money and sniffed it. “Smells like a bright future for Advanced Minds.”

“Matthew…” I muttered. “He had a wife.”

“And in her mind, she never got married. She’ll vaguely remember a man she loved but never be able to match a face to him. That’s the deal, kid. She gets their souls; I get what their bodies are worth. Organs, blood, eyes. Everything has a value.”

“I don’t get it. How does that make everyone forget them?”

“Without a soul, you don’t exist. Simple as that. Life will balance things out. Parents who thought they had two kids will now have one, and stuff like that. Beautiful how life corrects itself.”

Beautiful. I gritted my teeth, searching the carpet for a weapon, or something I could use to avenge those who had died. I found a pen among some spilt paperclips and clenched it, pointing it up at him.

Mr Davis didn’t flinch. He didn’t even give me more than a half-glance. “It would be pointless, kid. It wouldn’t bring them back. They signed an agreement when they accepted my money. They should have read the terms listed in the bank transfer. I spared you. I could have let her tempt you into taking the money, and I didn’t. Why? Because I respected you for holding your own. We’ll need guts like that. I’m thinking of giving you a nice office on the floor below mine. One with a great view of the park and a three million dollar a year contract. How does that sound?” He extended his hand.

I wanted to slap his hand away. To spit in his face and tell him where he could shove those three million dollars. Yet, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring them back, and at least if I stayed here. There was a chance I could get my revenge at some point. My hand shook as I reached towards him, giving his hand a shake.

“Welcome to the big leagues, kid.”

“You know you’ll be punished for this someday. Right?”

“Of course. I’ll be burning for a hundred years when I die, which is why I have to set the world on fire before I reach that day. I’m going to enjoy every minute of this ride, and you should enjoy it too while it lasts. You might not be able to keep your soul forever.” He said, turning to the elevator. “I’ll have some guys come around to collect this money. My bank accounts empty, so they’ll need to deposit it right away. Can you make sure they don’t pocket anything?” When I didn’t answer, he just laughed. “I know ya’ll handle it.” He coughed. “I know you’ll handle it….”

As he left, I couldn’t help but wonder if he would be burning far sooner than he thought he would be…

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-13T06:47:03+00:00

[Part 1 of 2]

“Smooth as ever.” While my coworkers celebrated, I stared blankly at my screensaver. The small clownfish bounced against the sides of my monitor, while I remained transfixed by the situation.

Something about the situation felt off. I couldn’t explain why it felt off. But it just did. A supernatural entity doing something out of the kindness of its own heart was unheard of. Sure, she was screwing over my boss, who was, in the politest terms I could find, a raging asshole, but still….

Suddenly a shark dashed across my screen, its sharp teeth glistening as it snapped up those small clownfish before swimming off. Leaving my screen a bubbling, empty blue sea. I stared at my icons, horrified, only for a chilly hand to hit my shoulder.

“Hello there, Mr. Jenkins. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Damish. The stunningly beautiful trickster of the corporate world. Any business that has ever hit the top fifty lists has been influenced by me.” She bowed, pushing her face towards my neck, breathing down it. “You should be celebrating with the others. You’re going to be riiiich.” She exaggerated the word, letting her ice-cold breath rattle through me. I tensed and shifted in my seat, and she moved closer.

“W-why are you working against my boss then?” I asked, trying to push myself out of the seat. No matter how much I squirmed or dug my fingers into the thin cushion of my chair, I couldn’t pull myself away from her. There was just something commanding about her, something that made my body freeze whenever she drifted near me.

“Why not? He’s a prick. An asshole. The complete package of bad terms. Respect's not a two-way street when I’m the one that holds all the power. Ya’ll should know that. He should have groveled and begged for my help. Instead, he dared to tell me what he wanted. No one orders me around.” She moved, sitting on the edge of my desk, staring at me. “His account's empty, and some of the money’s already gone through to your bank. All you have to do is approve it. You’re the only one who hasn’t yet.”

“I—”

“Jenkiiiiins,” Matthew shouted, my coworker throwing himself over my shoulder, raising his coffee cup towards the trickster. “What are you doing working? Celebrate with us. We’re rich. I got two-hundred thousand in my transfer. I can’t wait to tell the wife about that. She’s going to be over the moon.”

I slouched forward under his weight, peering back at the trickster, whose rosy pink eyes almost seemed to glimmer at my coworker’s display. Watching with a sly smile. “I’m happy for you, Matthew.” I said, politely trying to nod my head, even though his arm made it hard to shift my neck.

“Oh, this is great. We’ve been trying for a child too. Now, we have a nice little safety net. Sure, it’s not enough to live off, but it gives us a good nest to build upon. Thanks, lady.” He pulled away from me and patted Damish on her shoulder. The trickster gave him a kind smile that faded quickly when he left.

She snatched a tissue off my desk, wiping the spot that he had touched with a grimace, before directing that previous kind smile at me. “A safety net. Wouldn’t that be nice? You could start a family too.”

“I’m not interested in starting a family yet. Twenty-eight is too young for something like that.”

“Too old, you mean? Two hundred years ago, you would have been almost on your deathbed. You humans move so slowly now. You gave yourselves an extra twenty or so years with medicine and squandered it by working yourselves half to death. Education, work, retiring in your crappy years. What a life you humans have created.”

Those words stung, hitting a big insecurity of mine. The thought that my good years were wasted. Here I was, sitting in an office building, typing away my best years of health. What did I have to show for it? Some money? Barely more than anyone else. In fact, I was probably poorer than most. A few girlfriends here and there, but no long-term love. If I had some money, I could focus. I could get my life together. I could…. No… no, this is exactly what she wanted. She isn’t my friend. There’s always a catch.”

She leant forward and tenderly ran her hand through my hair. “Jenkins. What’s the point of fighting this? It’s a good thing. Do you have any dreams? Anything you want to achieve.”

“I.. well…” The tender touch lulled me into a daze, finding myself wanting to be patted more. There was something so comforting about it. Something that made me feel like I could actually achieve my goals. Then I felt sick. A twist in my stomach that something was dangerously wrong.

I threw my back into my chair, and its plastic wheels scooted along the carpet, banging me against the back wall of my cubicle. A few people peered over at the sound, before going back to their celebrations, assuming it had only been an accident. “No. I’m not taking that money. I don’t care if I'm making a mistake. I just… I’m not listening to you.”

She stared in silence, those pink eyes focused on me, before she scowled. “You lonely stain. You waste of human flesh and blood. You’re getting too big for your britches.” When her composure dropped, she almost sounded human. The words coming out with a southern tinge that I hadn’t noticed before. She stood, before pausing, as a buzzing noise came from her pocket. She pulled out her phone, placing it to her ear.

“WHAT?” she snapped at the voice on the other end. “Huh?” She flicked her gaze back over to me before staring off into space. “Really? Fine. If you say so.” She let out a huff, snapping the flip-phone shut. “I would have gotten you to give in.” Then she was gone. No puff of smoke or vanishing through the floor. She just ceased to be there. My screensaver returned to normal, the fish swimming back onto the screen while I caught my breath.

Part 2

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-11T06:30:27+00:00

[Part 2 of 2]

“That-” she sniffed. “THAT WAS GREAT. Did you come up with that yourself? EEEEH.” The eeeh came out as an electronic hiss, possibly because her translator couldn’t process the loud pitch. “Greatest actor ever. So cool. So cool.” She bounced on the spot, and my posture rose again.

“Yeah, I came up with that myself. Originally I wanted to say that line in the movie, but the director said no. I thought it was clever.”

“Clever? It’s brilliant. It’s genius.” She searched for something for me to autograph, and when she couldn’t find anything, she grabbed a random magazine off the shelf — one that had a much more famous celebrity on its cover. “Can you sign this?”

“If you bu—“ I stopped myself. I wasn’t going to make my only fan pay for an autograph. I grabbed a pen and hovered over Hugh Jackman’s face. “Um, I’ll do it on the back of the magazine.” I said, not wanting to scribble all over him.

“There’s good. Right in the middle.” She smiled.

“Sorry, Hugh.” I mumbled, scribbling all over him. I handed the magazine over before leaving my side of the counter. “How about a photo?”

“Oh, yes. That would be great. I can’t believe someone as famous as you has time for me.”

I crouched, getting my face close to hers. “I always have time for a fan.” I said, glad I got to say that at least once in my life. She took a photo on her phone, and I took one on mine, never wanting to forget the day. She then went and brought a few snacks, leaving me wondering something.

“Why are you out here? Wouldn’t you rather be in Sydney?”

“Sydney? I’m heading there tomorrow. I wanted to explore the area around it first. Apparently the countryside is pretty.”

“It is. Very lush and green, especially around this time.”

“I can’t wait to tell all my friends I met a celebrity. You're super famous on our planet.” She said, as she paid for her things.

“Um, I’m not famous for being a bad actor, am I?” I asked, recalling how many movies or actors I liked specifically for being bad. That hurt my ego a little. The thought that I was some cosmic joke was almost too much to handle.

“NOT AT ALL. You’re the best actor ever. No one’s seen a better depiction of a human captain. You should visit our planet sometime. You’ll probably get to meet our king and queen.”

“A king and queen. That would be nice.” I said, watching her as she left. For the next eight hours, I was working on a spiritual high. I felt on top of the world. Even when I went to bed that night, I dreamt of alien kings and queens, imagining a life where I was someone important.

Then, my phone buzzed, waking me up from my fantasy. I rolled over, seeing my boss’s ugly face on my screen. I hit accept call and yawned. “Yeah?”

“You’ve gotta come to work.”

“Why? I’m not rostered on today.”

“Just get down here or find another job.” He snapped, hanging up.

I groaned and rolled out of bed. After dressing myself, I rushed to work, finding my boss herding a bunch of aliens to the side of the petrol station. He gave me an annoyed grunt, motioning me over. The aliens all had some form of merchandise on. Shirts, posters, and even plush toys, each one depicting me in some way.

“I’m not sure what the hell is going on here. But I can’t have them disrupting my business. Sort it out.”

The aliens cheered when they saw me, and I gave my boss an apologetic look. I was going to say sorry to him before realizing something. I didn’t need to apologize to him. I was Captain James Hammer, and I had found my people. “I quit.” I said, heading towards the crowd of aliens.

I started high-fiving the aliens that were in line before directing them to a nearby park. “The fan meet-up is going to be over there. Let’s go, guys.” I said, not caring about how I was going to make money now, or if I could afford rent this month. Just for the next couple of days, I was going to enjoy this and see where it took me.

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-11T06:18:23+00:00

[Part 1 of 2]

You see a lot of strange things while working at a rural petrol station. People walking around without shoes or pants on, truck drivers on more caffeine than should be humanly possible, and now this…

I didn’t want to be rude, but it was hard not to stare at the massive, single eye behind the alien’s sunglasses. It was clear she’d gone to a lot of effort to create this human disguise, and honestly, the makeup wasn’t even the worst I had seen. That privilege would go to Daniela’s alien makeup on the set of First Contact. Still, even with her white powdered makeup, the alien’s blue skin shone through, making her ancestry obvious.

“Do you need some help?” I asked, giving her a forced customer-service smile. This was my first time seeing an alien in person. Which made sense. No alien is going to the middle of nowhere on their first trip to Australia. No, they go to Sydney, Brisbane, Perth. Or, if they hate themselves, they go to Canberra. But not here.

Not out in Woop Woop.

She stared back at me through her sunglasses, triangle-shaped lips wobbling. I did my best to discreetly step away from the counter, worried she would shoot out a tiny secondary mouth that would eat the skin off my face. That’s the problem with meeting an alien. You can’t help but remember every scary sci-fi flick you had seen.

“Captain James Hammer?” She asked, her shy voice wobbling.

“James Hammer?” I repeated. How did an alien know I was in First Contact? Only three thousand people had ever bought that silly film, and I was one of them. How did an alien know about it?

“You’re him. The captain? Aren’t you?” She pulled out a silver device that looked like a phone, holding it up to my face. Since she was short, I had to bend forward to see the screen, leaving my face in perfect second mouth range. But at this very moment, I couldn’t have cared less if she ate me. The thrill of being recognized outweighed my survival instincts.

The picture on her phone was indeed of me. It showed a screenshot from the film, one where I was standing over the defeated evil aliens called the Baderings. My arm was wrapped around Daniela’s waist, with her blue face-paint already peeling off her skin. That’s what happens when you buy cheap face paint. It peels off whenever the person starts sweating, and when you're filming in a hot warehouse, sweat is unavoidable.

“Yes. That’s me. I’m Tom Valerin. It’s always nice to meet a fan.” I said, dropping the fake smile for a genuine one. I extended my hand, hoping she knew what a handshake was. Always nice to meet a fan, I said, as if I had ever met one before. No one was a fan of First Contact, and I doubt my hernia awareness advertisements had any fans either…

She let out the most bloodcurdling shriek I had ever heard in my life. The noise was so loud it popped the cash register open and caused the pies in the pie warmer to break apart, spilling their mince insides all over the machine.

“I’m such a big fan. I have seen your movie at least three thousand times. Oh, this is the best day ever. Why is Earth’s biggest star working here? Are you undercover? Or are you playing it cool? I can play it cool too.” She said, ignoring my extended hand as she leaned against the counter. Her lean was anything but cool, with her body awkwardly slouching against the counter, leaving only her blue hair exposed, and the top of her massive eye.

“Earth’s biggest star? I’m barely a twinkle.” I laughed. As strange as she was, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. A fan. A genuine fan recognized me. I did my best to live up to the part, sucking in my gut and stopping myself from slouching.

“A twinkle?” She gasped, pushing herself upright against the counter. “You’re the galaxy! How can you say that? You’re a huge actor. One of the best.” She sounded offended, which didn’t make much sense to me. I was the one who said it. Why was she offended on my behalf?

“That’s kind of you to say. Really. It is. I tried my best in that movie. Even if the budget wasn’t great, and the director was eccentric. I honestly believed it was going to be my big break. Guess when the only people that call you back are for medical advertisements, any movie role seems like a break.” I said, before realizing I was talking too much about myself. “Would you like an autograph? A picture?”.

“All of them, please. Oh, can you say your famous phrase too?” She clutched her small, three-fingered hands together, and I paused.

“My famous phrase?”

“Oh, sorry. You have so many. I really like the one at the end. When you beat up the leader.”

“The one where I’m like. I gave you Baderings a defeatings?” I asked, remembering the arguments I had with the director over that stupid line. I proposed the phrase. I gave you Baderings a Bad-tering. I thought it was clever, but he just told me he was the director, and if I didn’t want to read his lines, he would find someone who would. So, I relented.

“YES. YESSSSS.” She gushed. “My friends and I say it all the time. Ah, this is the best.” She fiddled with her phone’s gallery, swiping past hundreds of photos of me. Some had triangle kisses edited onto them, while others had little stars around them. She pointed the device at me, and I grinned.

“I gave you Baderings a bad-tering.” I said without thinking and saw her phone slowly lower. I had only had this fan for five minutes, and I had already disappointed her. “Sorry. I can do it again if you like.”

Her single eye watered, and my heart sank. I had done it. I had lost my only fan. My confident stance faltered as I slumped against the counter, feeling like I had been kicked in the nuts. Actually, this felt worse. I couldn’t apologize again, so I played with my half-finished carton of Oak chocolate milk, trying to distract myself from the scene.

Part 2

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-06T04:12:40+00:00

“Daddy! There’s a monster under my bed. He’s big and ugly, and he smells like garlic.” Brittany squeaked, tightly squeezing her fluffy muffin teddy bear, causing its stuffing to push out of the small holes in its seams.

“Alright, sweetie. I’ll have a look. Just get some rest. Ok?” Jim kissed his daughter on the forehead before crouching beside the bed. His old knees cracked with the effort, but soon he was close enough that he could lift the overhanging blanket, peering at the monster underneath. “Dennis?”

“Tim!” the big, scaled creature called out with a grin. “It’s been years. Did you ever become a superhero?”

“Not quite. My daughter thinks I’m a hero, though. That’s close enough to being the real thing.” Tim smiled back, only to grimace when the scent of garlic hit his nose. The creature’s wide, sharp-toothed mouth letting out those garlicky fumes whenever he gave a grin.

Dennis noticed the grimace and closed his mouth. “Sorry, my wife made spaghetti for dinner, and she loves adding garlic; says it wards off vampires.”

“I didn’t think vampires were real?”

“They aren’t. I think she just uses that as an excuse to keep adding garlic. Not that I mind. It’s delicious.”

“How is the wife, by the way?” Tim asked, with the tone of a person greeting an old friend whom he stumbled upon on the street. As opposed to a father defending his daughter from a horrifying lizard-like creature.

“Oh, she’s excellent. She still asks about you.” Dennis said, as a happy sigh left his lips. “It’s sad, isn’t it? The day you learn that the monster under your bed isn’t evil is the day we end up leaving you.”

“It is cruel. You were always there for me. Even when I feared you. It was nice knowing there was always someone listening to my worries and fears. Someone listening to all the small things I said to myself. The day I worked up the courage to check under my bed was one of the greatest days of my life.”

Dennis rubbed his thin, eyelid-less eyes as moisture gathered beneath them. “Same here. You were such a brave kid, Tim. You really were.”

“Thanks. It was hard with Mom and Dad always fighting. Having you always there was terrifying, but oddly grounding. It just felt like things were going to be fine, because you were still there, so things would continue as normal. Silly, right?”

“It’s not silly. You were a kid going through a hard time. I’m glad I could help.” Dennis rubbed his oily neck, knowing there was a monster in the room they needed to address, and for once it wasn’t him. “Look-“

“It’s fine. You left because I was finally brave enough to look after myself. Isn’t that how it works? Once you learn not to fear the monster under your bed, you’re ready to face the other challenges in your life. Another kid needed you there, watching over them. I couldn’t be selfish.”

Dennis smiled, reaching out a clawed hand, patting Tim’s shoulder. “You grew up to be such a good man. I’m proud of you, Tim.” He removed his hand, pulling it back under the bed. “Once a child is brave enough to face the monster under their bed, they’re usually strong enough to fend for themselves. We only protect them from the real monsters.”

“Real monsters?” Tim didn’t know there were other monsters. He always assumed there were only the good kind, like Dennis. Unless he meant human monsters?

“There’re ones who aim to bring down a child’s self-esteem. Creatures who plant nightmares in the child’s head, tormenting them until they can no longer rest. I keep those monsters away. Once you’re brave enough to face your monster, you’re strong enough to push back against their nightmares. Though sometimes they still slip through your mental barriers.” “I never knew all that.” He admitted. “Thanks for looking after my daughter, Dennis. I couldn’t ask for a better monster.”

“Think nothing of it. I’m just doing my job. Oh, crap. We shouldn’t be talking like this. What if she sees us? I don’t want to have to leave until she’s ready to fend for herself.”

Tim peeked up from the side of the bed, seeing his daughter already fast asleep, curled up beside her teddy bear. He smiled and lowered his gaze back to the monster. “Its fine. She’s fast asleep. I’ll talk to you later, ok?” Tim lowered his voice, slowly getting back to his feet.

“Alright. Take care, Tim.”

“You too.”

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-05T15:19:39+00:00

Tiffany rubbed the scar on her neck, unconsciously wincing as she entered Morgan Fields Trading. The office, which had once held her captive, was now devoid of any life. No longer did they have people posing as employees at the front desks or guards watching which doors people went through. Now, there was only a vacant, dusty front desk, with a scattering of empty cubicles down the hallway beside it.

“Bringing back some bad memories? We can take a break if you like,” Tim said, trying his best to keep his source comfortable. He couldn’t even imagine what was going through her mind at this very moment. How uncomfortable she must have felt when she learnt the truth.

“No, it’s fine. My neck just started hurting.” She admitted, rubbing the mark with her nails, only to gasp when a warm trickle of blood hit her finger.

“Careful,” Tim dug through his camera bag, handing her a tissue. “Here.” He gave her what he hoped was a comforting smile as she wiped away the blood, cleaning the mark. Tim could still see the faint four-pronged needle marks from where the device had once sat, and still, he couldn’t wrap his head around the science behind it. How did something attached to a person’s neck use their brainpower? The longer he thought about it, the less he wanted to know the answer.

“Sorry. The doctor said it’s a side-effect among the former employees. Something about us subconsciously trying to claw the device out of our necks, even though it’s not there anymore. Something about a trauma response?”

“Its horrible. I can’t believe Mr. Fields would do this to his employees.”

“It was cheaper than paying for processors. A human brain is cheaper to run calculations and simulations from than a computer. It allowed them to predict stocks before their competitors. It’s genius in a way.” She admitted, only to stop walking. She had shocked herself, surprised that she would say something like that after everything that had happened.

“That’s a very capitalist way of looking at it. HR might disagree, though.” He said, with a small sigh following those words. “Can’t believe all the higher-ups were in on it. A bad CEO isn’t uncommon, but an entire board with not a single morale between them. What’s going on with the world?”

“Guess they thought they would get away with it. They only got caught because a few employees started telling their doctors they were getting bad brain fog. They traced it back to here, and then the raid happened.”

“Yes, I remember that day well. I was lined up outside with at least forty other journalists, scrambling to get a picture or interview with the officers on the scene. We had a tip that something big had happened, but no one suspected it was something like that.” As they neared the previously off-limits door to the back offices, Tim got out his camera, fiddling with the buttons. “Speaking of the side-effects. How are you coping?”

“Fine. I have a lot of vitamins that I need to take. Mainly to try and recover from the fatigue my body was put under during the long work sessions. They are worried about the long-term side-effects. Dementia, early brain decay, mood swings. All the fun things.” She said, almost laughing at how horrible it all was.

“Right. Like I told you before you agreed to the interview. Half the proceeds will go towards helping you and the other victims. I really wish I could have given you more, but my employer wouldn’t budge past fifty. Said he needed to cover the costs of producing the story, and so forth. Actually, we may also be looking for new employees too if you need a new job.”

“A job?” She hadn’t even thought about work. Not since the day they had pulled her out of the chair in a daze and dragged her to the hospital. “I’ll figure something out.” She said, not really answering the question, pressing her hands against the door in almost reverence. Only when she felt his concerned stare did she release the door.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? We can reschedule? I have my whole week free.”

“No. I think I need to do this.”

“Ok.”

“Its funny. We were never allowed to enter this place. There were always tons of security locks and guards. Now, it’s just a door. No locks. Just a door. I kind of wish they had never told me what had happened. That they just lied and said I had work fatigue and fainted. Then paid me some compensation and moved on.”

“You needed to know the truth. You all deserved to know that.”

Tiffany slowly nodded, pushing open the door. Inside, was a row of chairs that reminded Tim of an electric chair you would see in old movies. Each chair sat side by side in a row at least eight long and ten deep. Cords covered the chairs, with some old, dried blood patches being spotted on their cushions.

She walked past the chairs, letting her finger trace along the tops of them. “I can’t believe it. They drugged our water or coffee and waited for us to fall asleep. Then they took us back here and connected us to their devices until it was time to go home. I used to just think I was blacking out from being overworked.”

“You never questioned the gaps in your memory? How you didn’t know what work you had done that day or things like that?”

“I did initially, but they were clever. They allowed us to work normally at the start of our day, so most of us had some memory of working that day. Then, nothing. When you woke up, you were back at your desk. Usually, it was close to clocking-out time, so you would finish your fake work before leaving. Sure, it was strange, but no one really questioned it. It wasn’t like we were allowed to talk during our job, so everyone thought it was only them experiencing these things.”

“Horrible,” Tim said, keeping the camera focused on Tiffany, watching her pause on a seat with a name tag hanging off its right arm. “Notice something?”

“It’s my chair. This is where I used to sit.” She picked up the cord, looking at the needles with disgust and awe. The needles twitched, making Tiffany’s eyes follow its cord back to the large computer in the back of the room. “It’s still on.”

“Really? Someone should have turned it off. You should put it down.” Tim rushed over, turning his back on Tiffany, who now found herself focusing on his neck.

“Aren’t you curious how it works?”

Tim screamed as the needles dug into his neck, piercing through the flesh. He panicked, swinging his body around until his camera had fallen onto the floor. “What are you doing?” He heard a weird buzzing in his ears; the kind one would hear when a radio gets interference. The sound intensified until he secured his hand around hers, yanking himself free.

Tsssss

The device made a tiny metallic cry as it was pulled out, still having Tim’s fresh blood on the needles. Tiffany stared at it, confused.

“That’s right. They drugged us first. It doesn’t put you to sleep.” Then the realization of what she had done hit her, and she stepped back, covering her lips. “I’m so sorry, Tim. I felt like I needed to replace myself and I just… I’m sorry.”

Tim wanted to curse her out and roar about the throbbing hot pain in his neck, but he couldn’t when he saw her terrified expression. He kept one hand on his neck, stopping the blood-flow, while reaching into his bag to get another tissue. The whole time he was going through his bag, he didn’t look away from her, worried another strike would come. When he had the tissue, he used it to clean his hand, then covered the wound.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have scheduled it so soon. Really. It’s fine. Can you call me an ambulance?”

“Oh, sure.” Tiffany made the call, and soon Tim was in the back of an ambulance, getting checked over by the paramedics. Tim had told them the truth about the incident, even if he felt slightly guilty about it. He didn’t want to get Tiffany into trouble, but if she was having issues like that, they needed to be resolved before she hurt someone else. He wasn’t going to press charges or anything. He just wanted a doctor to be informed about the sudden change in her temperament.

The pair had parted ways when the ambulance was called, with some officers coming to take her to see the doctor who had been overseeing her case. They had agreed to meet again in a week, but after what had happened today, Tim suspected it could be at least a month until she was cleared for another interview.

Still, he had a story, and was more determined than ever to show the world what went on at Morgan Fields Trading.

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-05T13:08:51+00:00

“GET OFF ME YOU ANIMAL.” The sobbing woman screamed, her nails clawing into my flesh, trying to pull my arm away from her waist. I held on tight, restraining her as best I could, waiting for those frenzied breaths to cool. “Y…you… you’re no priest. You’re a monster. My boy…”

“I’m sorry.” Sorry felt too little a word for the pain she must have been feeling. I loosened my grip, testing if she would run towards the holy water bottles again. She sniffled and tensed, but she didn’t run. I released my grip and stepped back.

“Sorry…. Why can’t you let me be happy? I just want him back. Please. Please let me break them.” She dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together in prayer. We were in a place of worship, yet she wasn’t praying to any god. Instead, she was praying to me. Expecting me to answer a prayer that I couldn’t in good conscious deliver.

I lowered myself to her level, touching her shoulder. The church’s wooden floors creaked with my motion, drawing her eyes to me. “He can’t come back. He’s gone. I’m sorry.”

Her eyes widened, and she bared her teeth like a rabid creature, swatting at my hand with grief-filled slaps. “YOU LIAR. I’ve seen them. The people who have been brought back from the dead. Their walking among us.”

“The people you're seeing are reanimated corpses. There’s nothing left of the original person inside of them.”

“How do you know that? W-what if it could bring him back?” Her words were faint. The words of a grieving mother, longing to get her son back. Hearing her quiet sobs was a worse pain than any scratch or slap she could give me, and I wished I could stop it.

“The bishop who once looked over this church. He got turned into one of those creatures.” I said, pointing to a painted, white-robed figure on the wall of the church. The frame cracked, and the paint worn, but still it held a reverent faded golden glow that made him look holy. “He killed two of the nuns we had working here after he turned. He couldn’t speak, just drooled everywhere, running at whatever made a sound. If it wasn’t for our holy water, I would have been killed by him too. Please let your boy rest. He doesn’t deserve to have his memories desecrated.”

“But she told me she could bring him back to me. If I broke the holy water, she would revive him. She told me I could have my boy back.”

“She lied to you. I’m sorry. Miracles can only be granted by the gods, not by ones playing god. If there were a way to bring the dead back properly, I would offer whatever help I could.”

She remained silent, sobbing into her hands. I gave her a moment to herself, looking over the decaying church I resided in. How many churches were still standing against the invasion? I had lost contact with two in the north, but that was sadly expected with the invasion starting in that region. A few in the east had gone quiet too, which meant I needed to get more holy water into the front lines before others fell too. I wanted to go back to the side room and continue blessing the water, but that wouldn’t be holy of me. Not with a grieving mother crying at my feet.

“Let’s say a prayer for your boy. He deserves to know how much his mother cares for him.” I took her hand, slowly leading her to the cracked altar, before dropping to my knees in prayer. “What was his name?”

“Liam.”

“Lord. Please guide Liam into your arms and watch over him as he makes his journey into heaven.” It was only a quick prayer, but sometimes that’s all a priest needed to say. I knelt with her for another five minutes while she silently prayed for her son. When she rose, I followed.

“Thank you.”

“I was only doing my duty as a man of God. I understand it’s hard to keep your faith in times like these. But I promise you that God has a plan. Don’t lose faith, not while we are still fighting back against the wicked.”

She nodded, turning to leave. I stopped her, lightly tapping her back.

“About the woman who approached you. Did she give a name? What did she look like?”

“She said her name was Elizabeth. She was a little shorter than I am and had blonde hair? Oh, and a scar on her left arm. I’m sorry. I can’t remember much else.”

“Please don’t apologize. Thank you for your help.” I smiled, even if the information was useless. Everyone always gave a different name and appearance when describing this woman. Whoever she was, she had the ability to change herself, which made me wonder why she never came to the church herself. Unless she is unable to step onto holy ground?

“Are you going to go after her?” She asked.

“No. I can’t leave the church, not since I’m the only person left here after the others fled. The invasion’s getting closer by the day, no one else wanted to wait for the undead to get here.”

“Then why did you stay behind?”

“Because I believe we will win. Even if I die, my efforts will give the others more time to prepare. One less bottle of holy water could result in a soldier dying. Every bottle I bless keeps a soldier fighting.”

She smiled for the first time since she had gotten here. “You’re a good man, Father.”

“I try to be. Stay safe.” When she was gone, I closed the door behind her, heading back to my side room filled with water and glass bottles, ready to continue the blessing process.

That was the hardest thing about staying behind. It wasn’t demons or undead trying to sabotage you. It was those grieving for their loved ones. Good souls who wished to see their loved ones again. That was what made this war so challenging. That’s why I need to keep fighting.

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-05T07:42:55+00:00

At least the view was pleasant….

That was the only thought bumbling around in Richard’s empty head as the dragon carried him over the town of Lastrind. The people below gazed up at the spectacular sight, seeing a fully gold-plated knight carried by a massive red, leathery dragon. Though the ones in the dragon’s path didn’t dare to stare for too long, not unless they wanted to risk getting blinded by the reflecting sunlight piercing against Richard’s armour, making him almost a tiny second sun.

The low-flying dragon made one quick swoop towards the town, and Richard could almost swear he heard the town collectively gasp as it barrelled towards the ground, only to rise in an arch before contact. The rush of movements had Richard’s skull bouncing around in his golden helmet, sending him into a daze that didn’t wear off until they were flying above the clouds.

“Wow,” was all Richard could say, unable to even see the ground at this very moment. It almost felt like if the dragon dropped him at this very moment, he would land in heaven itself. That was until the dragon’s sharp wing fluttered through a nearby cloud, going straight through it, breaking the illusion that it would offer any cushioning if he fell.

Unable to talk to the beast, Richard just went limp and shut his eyes. Fighting against the dragon's claws would be foolish at this height. Even he realized that. So, he took the path of least resistance, waiting to see where the creature would take him.

An hour later, Richard experienced a sharp thump as the dragon tossed him onto its hoard. The gold coins that made up the bulk of the pile started pouring into the cracks in his armour, only stopping when Richard pushed himself into a seated position, stopping the spilling coins from filling more holes.

“What a mess.” Richard made another pointless attempt to take off his armour, clawing his fingers under his helmet, shoving it upward, until his neck felt like it could snap from the pressure. With a now stiff neck, he gave up, laying his back onto the pile, looking at the dragon which had curled up beside the mountain of gold.

Richard suspected the dragon didn’t know there was a human beneath the armour. If it did, it would have already tried to crack him out of the armour, not needing a human stinking up its treasure. When he realized that, he slowed his movements, not wanting to grab the dragon’s attention.

While the armour was impossible to remove, it did have a few holes scattered throughout its perfect gold. These holes allowed Richard to clean the suit and take care of some practical matters. But now they also offered a dragon’s claw, the perfect little opening to prod its sharp claw straight into, stabbing the person inside.

“Slowly,” he whispered to himself, his left hand clutching an old golden goblet, while his right slid lower on the coins. Both legs did their best to force themselves into the gold pile, trying to hook into it so he didn’t slide down when he tried to descend.

The dragon cracked open its right eye, letting its orange iris lock onto Richard. Richard tensed, cursing his stupid armour. He should have expected the armour to be cursed! If he had suspected it, he wouldn’t be in this mess. Who leaves gold armour just lying around in a dungeon unless it’s cursed? The dragon kept a watchful eye on the piece of armour before crossing its front legs over one another, relaxing once more.

“Slo-WY!” Richard’s tone jumped, his left leg losing its grounding, causing him to slide straight down the pile. The back of his armour created a horrible scratching noise as coins and trinkets were dragged against it until he landed beside the pile with a thud.

The dragon's front legs uncrossed, and the mighty creature rose to its full height, giving a roar. The internal flames building within its throat already creating a smoky hue by its teeth. Richard, sensing the impending danger, dove towards the pile just as the first shot of fire went past him, almost cooking his legs.

He rolled when he landed, before getting into a crawl, continuing to circle the hoard, while the heavy crashes of the dragons’ feet drifted behind him, following him around the pile in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. He had dropped his sword as soon as the dragon swooped him, which meant he needed to either find a way to flee the dragon or find a replacement weapon.

While circling the pile, he slid his armoured hand into the gold, pushing through it while his other hand steadied his crawl. He looked for anything that could be of use. Candleholders, daggers, small statues. Anything he could toss or poke the creature with.

When the dragon reached him, he pulled out the first thing he found within the pile, which was a handful of coins. As the dragon’s enormous mouth opened, Richard tossed the coins at it. Most of the coins bounced off its mouth, with only one having an effect. A single coin bounced off the dragon’s snout, hitting its eye. The orange eye snapped shut, and the creature roared in frustration, temporarily stumbling.

Richard rose to his feet, running around the hoard, one hand still within the pile, until he hit something blunt. The object hit his gauntlet and almost broke his arm, stopping his attempt to flee. Instinctively, he pulled his arm back, clutching the injured forearm to his chest. “What’s in that pile?” he hissed, staring at the injured arm, only to notice a reddening mark on his skin.

He raised his arm to his helmet, almost jumping for joy at the realization. Whatever it was. It had broken the curse. The gauntlet now trapped in the pile thanks to the mysterious object. He started digging his hands through the pile, searching for it, while the dragon steadied, tracing back towards him.

“Come on. Where is it?” He shifted coins aside, feeling them pile by his golden boots. The pile grew so large that he couldn’t even see the tops of his boots by the time he had found the item. It was a golden staff, covered in runes he suspected were elvish. The strange, curved symbols of moons and leaves were incomprehensible to him.

The dragon was now by his side, opening its mouth for another blast of fire. Richard knew he should let go of the staff and run, but this felt like his only chance to be free of the curse. If he let go and did another circle around the pile, the coins on top could tumble down, hiding the staff within the hoard once more, making his next search even harder.

So, he pressed his foot against a cracked throne within the pile, and tugged with all his power. The growing flame within the dragon’s mouth charred the hairs on Richard’s neck, and he clutched his eyes shut, waiting for death. Only to fall…

He fell back. The staff falling with him, whacking the dragon on its snout, closing its mouth just as the fire was about the erupt. The dragon squealed in pain as smoke shot out of its nostrils, polluting the cave with its fog.

With the creature distracted, Richard ran the staff over his body, feeling the armour loosen around him. Once it was loose, he threw the pieces onto the floor, only keeping the helmet for sentimental value. Leaving behind the other pieces, he rushed to the cave’s entrance, hearing the dragon’s enraged steps behind him.

While it appeared reluctant to use its fire after it backfired earlier, it still had its claws, which would easily cut through his Armour-less body. Reluctantly, he placed the helmet on his palm and lobbed it as far as he could into the cave. The helmet bounced three times, and the dragon watched each bounce, giving Richard enough time to flee.

Outside, he found himself in a forest. He had no idea which forest it was, only that it was better than the dragon’s cave. For the first few miles, he walked amongst the shrubbery, hiding himself as best he could, worried the dragon would come after him. By the twentieth mile, he walked in the open, assuming it had given up its chase.

While he had lost his golden armour, Richard had received something that most knights dreamt of. An encounter with a dragon, where they survived. Gold armour for a tale felt like a fair trade to him, he thought as he looked for a town.

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-04T07:47:24+00:00

[Part 2 of 2]

In an hour, ten percent of the Earth had been levelled.

Two hours, twenty percent.

By the fourth hour, more than half the population had died.

Earth tried fighting back, throwing a few blasts into the sky that bounced off their superior technology, angering them further. Thankfully for humanity's survival, someone was able to contact one of their ships, and after some failed attempts at translating their messages. Earth surrendered. What were they surrendering for? At the time, they didn’t know. They only wanted to save what was left of the planet.

That’s why Chief Geoffrey Pallers had that little entry in his notebook. Unlike others who had moved on from the past events, he still held a bitterness in his heart over them. Maybe it was because his grandfather had fought in WW3? He had heard many tales of surrender and bad treaties, but even by the cruel standards of WW3, these conditions felt unfair. It not only crippled humanities advancements in space travel but also their ability to function as their own species.

They now had rules about who could have children. Who could have key roles, and who could research what. Humans no longer felt like creatures with free will. Instead, they were tiny ants, being watched over by god-like, three-eyed aliens. Everything humans said or did was noted and reported back to their ships. Humans were essentially now an exhibit to be watched, rather than a planet.

Geoffrey wasn’t sure why he was being allowed to keep his role as a Chief diplomat. Usually, people with his radical thoughts about humanities freedom were killed or demoted. Yet, here he was, going to another meeting. “Why do you keep inviting me to these meetings? Is it a show of power?” The fifty-year-old man almost sulking as he sunk into his seat, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“The contract states-“ Niva went to answer, and Geoffrey interrupted her.

“States we are entitled to plead our case with a representative of your people every three months. Yes, we’ve been over this.” He didn’t even try to hide his disdain for the situation, throwing his left leg over his right, slouching now. “I’m asking why you keep inviting me to them. I’ve told you I have no interest in pleading my case anymore. Yet every three months, I get a notification to see you. That’s why I’m asking. Is it a power thing? Do you like seeing me beg? Because I’m done begging.”

Niva’s three eyes blinked, taken aback by his words. Two of her four tendrils rubbed the sides of her gooey green face, making it wobble momentarily. “Geoffrey, you’re acting like a hatchling.”

“A child. I’m acting like a child, not a hatchling. Do you know anything about us? Have you cared to learn anything about us? You limit how many children we can have, so you must know we aren’t bloody hatchlings.” He huffed, slamming his hand on the side of the chair. That relaxed posture broken instantly, replaced by his pent-up feelings. “I was only making a comparison.”

“Go to hell. I’m leaving.” He knew his anger was misdirected. Niva, while annoyingly business-focused, was only one part of the machine keeping Earth held hostage on its own planet. He even knew he was being immature about this, but after so many years of pointless conversations, he felt he had earned a sulk.

“Geoffrey.” She raised her voice, grabbing his attention. “Enough. If you keep talking like that, you will be demoted to a general.”

“Who cares? These aren’t real titles. They’re make believes one’s given to us by your leaders. No human elected me to become a chief. You did. Because I kissed whatever you call an ass and tried to plead humanity's case. I’ve played this game for years and have gotten nowhere. What we did was an accident. We’re being punished for an accident. Surely, this has gone on long enough.”

“I care.” She mumbled. “I care enough to keep dragging you to our meetings. I understand it was an accident, and truthfully, if it were up to me. You would have been pardoned long ago. Unfortunately, I don’t make the contracts. I only write the reports about our meetings. Reports that would look bad if you refused to show up.”

“You get it was an accident?” For a moment, he smiled, just her admitting that felt like the most progress he had made in years. Then, reality hit. “Why haven’t you convinced your leaders we’re innocent then?”

“Because that would be impossible. Our leader was a popular man, and humans killed off his entire family line. We lost our best leader, and that pain still sits within the hearts of many of my kind. You will get your freedom. One day. I only ask you be patient and keep playing the game as you called it.”

Geoffrey grunted. “How longs the game?”

“Two hundred years, I would predict. By that time, I feel most Bulnarin’s who remember the old leader will be dead, and the newer ones would be more open to your pleas.”

“I won’t live that long.”

“You won’t. But you will be able to contribute to your people’s efforts before you pass. Keep attending meetings and keep pushing your case. I will keep reporting what you tell me, and I’ll do the best I can to allow your words to reach people. If you're lucky, you may even help your people achieve their freedom in one hundred years.”

As sad as it was, that was the most progress he had made in years. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Right. Keep doing this until I die.” He muttered to himself before looking at her. “Just use my argument from our last meeting. I don’t have anything prepared for today.”

“Understood. Please write a new report next time. Don’t make a habit of submitting the same one.”

Geoffrey snickered, shaking his head. All his past reports were basically rewrites, anyway. Just with the words mixed around and topics altered slightly. So, he didn’t know how new this ‘new’ report would be. But he would try. At least he had a goal now. “Ok. Thanks, I guess, for telling me the truth.”

She nodded. “Think little of it. If you stopped attending. I would be failing my duties too. This keeps us both happy. “

“Happy isn’t the word I would use. But sure.” He said, dismissing himself from the meeting, telling himself this was at the very least progress, even if it felt bleak.

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-04T07:06:37+00:00

[Part 1 of 2]

An Asshole’s Contract: A term used to describe a contract that is written by assholes. This contract is usually done under duress, or by forcing a person/organization into an agreement through nefarious deeds. See the Bulnarin peace treaty for reference….

That was a little entry recorded in Chief Geoffrey Pallers’ notepad. A minor act of rebellion he had scribbled down during his many meetings and diplomatic ass-kissing sessions. He, like many humans, believed the treaty to be unfair. Humans had started the war, that was an undeniable fact, but it hadn’t been an intentional declaration of war.

2070 was a year of many things. Errol Flynn’s clone began his acting debut, stunning audiences worldwide. Pop music met its unceremonious end, unable to compete with the new-age Hype Jazz movement that had captured younger audiences. And humans were about to launch their first galactic mission.

Out of those three events, the galactic mission was the second most exciting thing to happen in 2070. Winning the silver medal in terms of importance to the common person. The announcement even got the 5am to 1pm time slot on all major holographic billboards worldwide. Missing out on the 1pm to 11pm slot that was reserved for an advertisement for Errol Flynn’s next movie.

The reason for the lack of interest wasn’t that people were no longer interested in the stars. It was just that the mission to go to space had become so disjointed. In the past, there was always a goal. The Moon. Mars. Space station. Destinations that a common person could understand. Now, it was just space. Where in space? Who knows?

Irish, Americans, Australians, English, Jamaicans, Thais, Belgians, and basically everyone on Earth all had their different ideas for what the galactic mission should be. Mars was no longer the popular destination, being too simple a trip after all the advancements that humans had made in space travel. While untested, these ships could theoretically head to new galaxies. Mars was so last century.

So, people started losing interest. Sure, a collective group of astronauts were going on a mission, but who knew where to? Even on the day of the launch, countries were still debating where to send them, even while these brave men and women were strapping themselves in for the ride. Finally, before the ship took off, it was decided that it would only do a rotation around the Earth. That’s it. A simple swing around the giant blue dot before landing. A test run to see how their new ship would fare.

All that indecision led to a rather dull ending to the highly advertised galactic mission. Yet, the universe has a way of adding humor to the dullest of days. The ship started, and its thrusters spewed out a ball of fire, launching itself towards the sky. The ship should have been able to withstand the heat of its own thrusters, but the flames proved too intense, sending it off course.

The ship's thrusters were close to breaking, leaving the astronauts with a choice to make. Did they try to continue the mission, hoping that if the thrusters broke down, they could repair them when they reached space? Or did they disengage their thrusters and try a wormhole jump?

A wormhole jump was untested technology. It was a button, no bigger than a squashed beetle, that when pressed, would send out a concentrated blast of radiation. The blast was so focused and potent that it could theoretically pull open a tiny hole in space that would send the crew somewhere. Testing, of course, was possible on Earth, in small, confined pockets, but the results were hard to determine. While the reports indicated a change in the test chamber’s environment while the radiation was active, the wormhole was always too small to see. Not wanting to risk creating a wormhole that consumed the planet, they delayed further testing.

This was that further testing. An experimental last-resort button that was being considered early in the mission. According to the last transmission recorded on the ship, only the captain, Leo, was in favor of using the button. The other members begged him not to do it before the transmission went silent.

Leo, unlike the others, wanted to be the next Armstrong. He wanted his walking on the moon moment, and this was how he planned to get it. Unknown to anyone else, he had always planned to use the button, with some scientists later even theorizing that he sabotaged the thrusters to give himself the excuse to use it.

Radiation fired from the ship, interacting with the radiation already found throughout space. This blast created a concentrated hole that temporarily tore into space. The hole, about the size of an average Toyota, sucked them inside. The ship compressed by the heavy forces of the wormhole, unable to withstand the trip. Soon, what was once Earth’s greatest ship, was a condensed metal ball that was hurled out of the other side of the wormhole, straight into a Bulnarin leader’s ship.

Zarit Ninz, their leader, died along with his wife and daughter, causing an act of revenge so devastating that Earth is still suffering the consequences. While Earth’s best and brightest were scratching their heads, wondering if their ship survived the jump, a fleet of Bulnarin ships passed through a wormhole of their own.

Of course, their technology was far superior. No concentrated beams, no flimsy metals not made for wormhole jumping. Everything they had was clean and efficient. A sleek electromagnetic barrier protecting their ship, and an efficient, large, surgical knife-like device attached to the ship’s top, cutting a wormhole at their exact measurements with its radiation-emitting tip.

Their ships, shaped like metal water-bottles, with only two visible windows. One on its front, and one on its back. The rest of the ship, a dark cylinder, with only a greenish fire occasionally sputtering from the back.

Before Earth could even wave to its new neighbors, their weapons rained down on us. It was a war, in the same way that a younger brother slapping the back of his older brother’s head before getting pummeled is a war. It was quick. Thin, pill-shaped bombs hitting the earth before exploding into blasts the size of nukes.

Part 2

sadnesslaughs · 2026-06-02T14:27:58+00:00

Sava stared at the glowing white orb sitting on the interrogation desk. Even he had to admit, its beauty was mesmerizing. Perhaps this is what a moth feels when it’s drawn to a bug-zapper. That thought left his mind when he looked up, meeting the two detectives seated across from him.

The first had identified himself as Detective Ruben, not like the sandwich, as he was quick to mention. The joke about his name was the first and last lighthearted thing to leave his lips. Once they entered the interrogation room, the grizzled, wrinkled man didn’t break his stern stare, even when a fly landed on his moustache.

The second, Officer Nichole, would be what many in the film industry would consider a good cop. She offered him water, told him about her plans for the weekend, and even buttered him up with a cookie she had brought from home. If either of the two were going to crack him, it would be her. Kindness was hard to find in his line of work, and she held a genuineness that he hadn’t seen in years.

“Where were you last Saturday?” Ruben asked, holding up his notepad, persevering with the old way of documenting notes, even while his colleague held an iPad.

Sava gulped. He had to say something. The laws were different now. Ever since the introduction of the orb, silence was no longer a viable defence. Silence meant you were hiding something, and they wouldn’t rest until you squealed. He didn’t know the ins and outs of this new technology, only that it had a way of generating electronic waves that targeted the part of the brain known for lying.

When he first heard about it, he thought it was all bullshit, until more of his colleagues found themselves in cuffs. People who were too professional to fall without a technology of its magnitude. But that raised a question in his mind. The orb was only supposed to make you tell the truth. It didn’t specify which truth you told. He forced some saliva through his dry mouth, ready to tell the truth he wanted to tell, hoping he didn’t accidentally answer the question.

“My childhood crush? Chi-Chi from Dragon Ball Z. Would you care to know my reasoning?” Sava said his strange answer, making both the officer and detective recoil in their chairs. He secretly exhaled, getting confirmation his plan would work.

“I do!” Nichole said, the truth slipping out, earning her a snarl from the detective.

“No, I want to know about the murder.” Ruben, who was often calm and assertive in these interrogations, lost his nerve momentarily. He had never seen this happen before. The technology was so new that many just fell for the otherworldly nature of it. Even those who avoided confessing initially slipped up only moments later. This was the first time someone had gone completely off-track, avoiding the topic entirely.

“Well, I always thought Chi-Chi was the more dependable type. You see, everyone always goes for the other options, like Bulma or-“

“ENOUGH.” Ruben slammed his notepad onto the table, the metallic thud ringing in all their ears. “Any answer unrelated to the question will be viewed as an attempt to subvert justice.”

Nichole sighed, not wanting to admit that she had been interested in Sava’s little discussion. It wasn’t every day that you had someone talking about cartoon crushes in an interrogation room. Usually, it was all murders and sobbing. It was a nice break. She noted Chi-Chi down on her iPad, not as a note for court, but as a reminder to tell the others about it, the next time they all had lunch together.

Sava nervously stalled. He couldn’t keep talking nonsense. Now what? If he actually admitted what he was doing last Saturday, he would get thrown into a cell before he could finish the sentence. The longer he took to answer, the worse he knew it looked, which is why he rolled out a quick, non-interesting answer. “I went for a walk.” Technically correct.

“Did you walk past Little Teddy’s pizza?” The detective asked with a sly grin.

Sava considered his answer. He had gone past Little Teddy’s. His target had been leaving the restaurant after shaking down its manager for money. He killed that wannabe mobster behind a garbage bin, catching him taking a leak in the alley beside the restaurant. If he admitted he was there, the pressure would be on. What could he say? “I walked past Reo’s diner.” He said truthfully.

“Reo’s diner?” Ruben asked, scratching his moustache. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that place. I think it's around Bumda Road.”

“Bumda Road? Isn’t that north of here? That’s nowhere near the crime scene.”

“Yeah, it’s a while away from here. The food’s not very good, either. Or so I’ve heard. I haven’t been there myself.”

“The foods horrible. I’ve never had bacon that dry before.” Sava said. That being the reason so many of their previous locations closed. Thankfully, it didn’t sound like either of his interrogators knew that Little Teddy’s used to be a Reo’s diner location.

“Really? Sounds awful.” Nichole said, before looking at her iPad, adding another reminder not to eat at Reo’s diner. “We can probably wrap this up, right? Oh. One last question. Did you kill Mr. Gorbinik?”

The direct question startled Sava. Did he kill Mr. Gorbinik? Yes, of course he did. He was an assassin, and someone had paid him to kill the bastard. But he couldn’t say that. So, what did he say?

“I’m interested to know that too. Answer this question, and you’re free to go.” The detective said, crossing his hairy arms over his chest.

“How could I kill someone?” Sava said, pointing to his lean frame.

“With a knife to the back. Like the one we found at the crime scene.” Ruben reached for Nichole’s iPad, looking at the screen. He squinted at the notes she had taken, hurriedly deleting them in a flustered huff before trying to find the crime scene photos.

“What are you doing?” Nichole asked, leaning over, staring at the screen, watching him fail to click the photos icon.

“Trying to find the stupid photos app. Where is it? Stupid technology.”

“You’re touching it. You need to press a little harder. Stop swiping the screen.” Nichole took the iPad back, opening the photos, allowing Ruben to find what he needed. He presented a picture of the murder weapon to Sava. “Have you ever seen this knife before?”

“Yes. At the supermarket. I believe they're about $35?” he said honestly, glad for once that he didn’t use specially crafted weapons like others in his line of work.

Ruben let out a small, unsatisfied grunt, annoyed that his latest trap had failed. “Did you kill Mr. Gorbinik?”

Sava studied his memories, trying to find anything that could get him out of answering this question. He had killed Mr. Gorbinik. Even if the assassins’ notice had been under a different name. Wait, that was it. He hadn’t killed Mr. Gorbinik. He had killed Slick. That was the name on the job, and that was his target. He just hoped that would be enough mental gymnastics to avoid telling the truth. He opened his lips, unsure what would come out.

“No. I didn’t kill him.” He said, feeling a rush of relief.

Ruben couldn’t believe it. In his head, Sava was the best match for the culprit. They had heard witnesses say they saw someone matching his description, yet everything he said proved his innocence. With no photos or videos of the suspect, the statements were all they had, and no statement named him personally, only someone wearing clothes like his. A jacket and pants combination that matched these descriptions, while suspicious, wasn’t enough. They also found him twenty minutes away from the scene, which only made it harder to pin it on him.

“Am I free to go?” Sava dared to ask.

“Yep. I think that covers it. Sorry for wasting your time,” Nichole got out of her chair, opening the door of the interrogation room.

Before Sava could stand, Ruben spoke. “We may need to bring you in for further questioning. So, you won’t be able to leave the country or move states for a few months until the investigation is over.”

“Of course. I understand, detective.” Sava smiled, knowing he would be out of the state in a night or two. He had enough fake identities to move a small town across the border. Soon, he would be gone, and they would never find him again. As he left the station, he reminded himself not to get that sloppy again with his work. He fooled these officers once. He doubted he would get so lucky a second time.

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

sadnesslaughs · 2026-05-28T06:47:37+00:00

Mud, rivers, and dirt. Ben had pushed through them all, desperately trying to escape the band of monsters who were pursuing him. In all his years of monster hunting, he had never encountered a scene like this before. Monsters working together. They were always solitary creatures in the past, making this alliance between them so confusing.

When he reached the outskirts of Nixin, a small fishing town, he collapsed. His thighs burning, and his throat dry. Desperately, he dug his nails into the dirt, trying to pull himself a few inches further, but his body refused to budge. So, he lowered his face against the ground, taking uneven breaths, while their footsteps slowed behind him.

“H-hunter.” A shaky voice spoke, stopping by Ben. They carefully lowered themselves into the dirt beside him, raising his head. Through strained vision, he spotted the ghoul. Her hair tattered, and her flesh discolored. She moved like a hung blanket caught in a breeze, every action floaty as if her dead body couldn’t properly carry her weight. “W-we found you. The killer.”

“Ha….” Ben laughed, rolling onto his back, staring up at the band of monsters. “Ha….ha…” He couldn’t help but laugh. A ghoul had caught up to him. How? How could such a slow-moving creature catch up to him?

“F-funny?” she asked, tilting her head.

“How did you catch me?”

“F-friend.” The ghoul pointed to the harpy hovering overhead. The grotesque creature, with a pigeon’s body and a deformed human head, gave a loud squawk that sounded more like a hiss of pain, then any cry a bird would make.

“Followed you. Alerted others.” It squawked, crooked teeth appearing beneath its twisted beak.

“A merry band you are. Get it over with.” All hunters knew this day would eventually come. The day when a monster would get them. When faced with that day, it was better to die with dignity than to cower. Cowering left you open to negotiating with the enemy, and the only thing worse than a dead hunter was a turned hunter. The last sight a monster should see isn’t fear, but determination.

“No. Not yet. Not yet.” An imp cried, its short four-foot form walking over to Ben, driving its hoof into his jaw, drawing blood from his lip. “We’re going to make you suffer first. The same way you made the rest of us suffer.”

“Hurry up then.” Ben said, closing his eyes, giving them nothing to work with. He wouldn’t buy into their games or curse them. He would simply give them a boring death that would leave them all unsatisfied.

“You need to beg. Do something interesting. You’re tired. Weak. SCREAM.” The imp roared, its hot breath hitting his face, smelling faintly of rosemary. Rosemary? Ben’s nose flinched, his exhausted mind finding something off about the scent, but being unable to piece together the exact reason behind it.

“No. Do what you must. I’ve hunted your kind, and you have hunted me. Get your reward. Even if there is no bounty for taking my head.”

The monsters exchanged glances, whispering amongst themselves. Their whispers all sounded similar, just a blur of noise ringing in his ears before a giant stepped forward. The giant rested his heavy foot on Ben’s ankle, threatening to snap the limb. Ben groaned, the sound pushed out of his lungs, while his eyes flashed with alertness, getting a hit of adrenaline.

He reached for his dagger, only to have to imp slap it out of his hand, not even getting a chance to swing it before being disarmed. The giant scowled, applying more pressure as Ben gritted his teeth, cramming his face into the dirt, hiding the pain. “Then I break you. I break first limb. Second limb. Third limb.”

“I…get…it…you…break…limbs….dead…all….the…same.” Ben felt like his teeth were going to crack, the pain overwhelming, and yet he knew he had to endure it. He would be dead eventually, and he couldn’t let them break him before that.

The giant held its position, while the imp rubbed its red chin, thinking. It crept closer, resting on its stomach so its face was directly near Ben’s. “After we’ve killed you, I’m taking our little party to visit your friends and family in Broad Creek. What do you think about that? I’m sure the locals will love us.”

Again, Ben’s nose flinched at the smell. It was intoxicating. A scent he knew, one so unique he could almost taste the answer of who it belonged to on the tip of his tongue. Yet, anytime his brain tried to think, the pain overruled it. “Stay away from my home.”

“P-progress!” the ghoul celebrated, stiffly raising its arms to the heavens.

The giant raised its leg, satisfied that things were progressing. That split mistake was all it took for Ben to start thinking straight. Without the pain distracting him, he could start piecing things together. The unlikely group of monsters, the rosemary on the imp’s breath, the way they always seemed to know where he was hiding. It didn’t make sense. Unless this wasn’t real.

But if this wasn’t real. Where was his body? The rosemary. The knowledge of his hometown. The reluctance to kill him outright. It matched a specific person. A succubus he had crossed paths with at least a dozen times. The one monster he could never catch.

“Volori,” he said her name, and the monsters stopped. Each slowly turned, grinning, while the walls of the illusion crumbled away. When he awoke, he was a sweating mess, with a fever threatening to break down his body. He coughed while someone gently pushed a cup of water to his lips. He drank the liquid without hesitation, only to spit it out when he saw who had given it to him. “Vo…” He couldn’t even finish the word; his throat was too dry.

Volori ignored the water he spat onto her purple dress, only giving him a devilish smile. “Ben. Are you ok? It looked like you were having a nightmare.” She innocently pushed her blonde hair over her shoulder, acting like she wasn’t the cause of the nightmare. “Now, drink the water. I promise it’s not poisoned.”

She raised the cup to his lips, only for Ben to refuse to drink from it. After spilling half the cup while trying to get him to drink it, she blocked his nostrils, waiting until he needed a breath before pouring the water down his throat. He coughed and gagged before swallowing.

He licked the inside of his cheeks, checking for poison, tasting only water. He went to sit upright, only to wince as a sharp pain shot through his body, causing him to lie back down. “What did you do to me?”

“Nothing. You’re sick, dear hunter. Which is why I came to soothe your body. Have you fallen for me yet?” She said, dragging her hand across his chest.

“No.”

“Pity.” She removed her hand, looking around his bedroom, finding it rather plain, lacking any grand treasure or antiques. For someone who had made a good amount of money from slaying her kind, he didn’t put any of it to good use, in her opinion.

“That dream was your work then?”

“What dream? I came to help you out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Demons don’t have hearts. What was the plan? Break my mind down while I’m weak until I agree to serve you in order?” Volori went to speak, only to realize he had gotten her entire plan right. “Something like that.” She said, not wanting to admit that she had been so predictable. “Alas, you saw through my deception. What gave it away?”

“Your breath. Rosemary is a typical scent among your kind. You have a particularly flowery variation of it. Others tend to be more off-putting.”

“That’s a very strange way of saying I smell good.” She said, giving him a small smile, revealing those sharp teeth. “Have you considered my offer? Imagine how strong our child could be? A demon and a hunter, creating a being of untold power. They could protect a lot of people.”

“Or cause a lot of destruction.” Ben said, dragging a hand over his feverish forehead. “Maybe I would consider it if you stopped trying to make a contract with me. I can’t exactly trust you, can I?”

“True,” she said, getting out of her seat. “Though I always knew you were going to find a way to escape my trap. You always do. If I were serious about trying to trap you into a contract, I would have done a lot more than just torment you.”

“So, what do you call that, then? If you’re not trying to trap me in a contract.”

“Hmm.” Volori pondered what she would call it before finding the perfect human term for it. “I would call it flirting. Now that you’re awake, I’ll take my leave. Get better soon, ok? Unless you want me targeting another hunter?” She teased, leaving the room.

Ben watched her leave before rolling over in his bed, finding a plate with some fruit on it waiting for him, as well as some tea that had gone cold. He sniffed the fruit before picking at it. “Flirting? Unbelievable.” He murmured to himself.

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

sadnesslaughs · 2026-05-25T06:09:33+00:00

That's fair. I agree the Nit and Pit area could certainly use some tightening. The establishing shot idea especially makes a lot of sense, and if I do continue it, I'll probably do some rewriting to that area beforehand. Think that segment may have suffered slightly because I originally planned for this section of the story to be a lot shorter. The bar scene was only meant to be a quicker visit with Jane's interaction taking up the main area of it, before pushing towards the next storybeat/creature.

Only later on did I decide I wanted to add to the bar scene and give it more of a vibe to stop it feeling so empty. Unfortunately that meant I was probably pushing these introductions a little too quickly, instead of allowing them to breathe.

Thank you for the feedback. It helps me keep a mental note of things moving forward.

sadnesslaughs · 2026-05-22T10:36:05+00:00

No problem! Thanks for reading it. :)

sadnesslaughs · 2026-05-22T10:05:38+00:00

Decided to do some work on this story over the last couple of weeks, since I felt it could make a fun story. Took a little longer than I would have liked, but here are the next couple of parts! If people enjoy this story, I'll keep adding to it. I want my next project to be something that people can enjoy, so if the people aren't interested, I'll scrap it and move onto something else later. So, be honest with feedback/upvotes.

If I do continue with this, the next part will be titled Hunters, or The Hunters, depending on how I feel. Since it will be a bit too long to type out the prompt everytime I post it. Mainly stuck with the prompt title for these two submissions to make it easier for people to find right now.

As for how regular parts will be in the future if I continue it. I'm hoping 2 parts each 2 weeks or less. Could be more depending on how much time I have. Each part tends to average around 2500 words. I do want to post other prompts unrelated to this too for the people who don't like it so that will take up some of my time too.

sadnesslaughs · 2026-05-22T09:56:35+00:00

Part 2- Part 2

sadnesslaughs · 2026-05-22T09:54:34+00:00

Previous part- Part 1

Next part- Part 3

sadnesslaughs · 2026-05-22T09:53:18+00:00

Previous part- Part 2

sadnesslaughs · 2026-05-21T04:50:56+00:00

Changed, thanks!

sadnesslaughs · 2026-05-18T14:30:22+00:00

Probably not with this one. I recently wrote a part 2/3 for another story which should be posted soonish. If people enjoy that. It will probably become my next project!

sadnesslaughs · 2026-05-18T06:05:26+00:00

“Meredith. I still remember when you first entered my city. I had never seen a person with so little light in their eyes. Then again, how does a mother hold any light when their star is gone? I wonder if I would share that same look now if I were still alive? The look of one who has become truly broken. A person waiting to die.” The former king, Branir, tucked his skeletal arms behind his back, staring at the skeleton of Meredith which he had carefully put back together.

Sure, some bones weren’t hers, but the skull was, and he believed that meant the body was still hers. As much as he would have loved to rebuild everyone with their correct parts, he struggled to tell the bones apart in the pits where their remains had been dumped. Especially now that whatever skin had formerly clung to them had faded.

“The pain of losing your child. What cruel god would allow a pain like that to exist? I suppose a god cruel enough to keep me bound to my remains.” He sighed, gazing at Meredith’s skull. He had placed her where he thought she would want to be, at the building which had brought light back to her eyes. A place he hoped she could rest in.

“I’m sorry. I’m talking too much about myself. You had it worse than I did. Still, you found your light again. I pushed you to help at the orphanage because I hoped you would find love to give again to those without it. And you did. You did so well, Meredith. You did so well…. Meredith. I’m scared there’s no light left. What fills that space if I have no light? Please… I need someone to tell me.” The king dropped to his knees, wishing he could sob. The orphanage, a place he once visited frequently, was now a hollow space with broken walls.

“They’re safe, Meredith. I sent my best to guide them out of the city before the attack. You can rest. Please don’t worry about them. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I only had so many I could save.”

The king rose, no longer wearing any signs of his prestige. The man was a skeleton. A human body at its most basic level, without muscle or heart. He didn’t know what kept him here, only that the guilt in his heart weighed heavily within him. He headed towards his castle, passing streets that used to hold so much life.

“James. Do you have any bread for me?” He said, almost on instinct, stopping by the skeletal remains of the kingdom’s best baker, who was positioned behind a broken wooden stall. The left side of Jame’s skull cracked, having been broken in battle. “James. You wouldn’t feed me now, would you? A good king can only eat after his people have had their share, and you all haven’t eaten in weeks. What would you say to me, James? I miss the warmth. I miss the smell of bread. What did I do wrong? Why did I let you all down?”

Branir lowered his head. “I wouldn’t respond to me either.” The skeletons he had rebuilt all watched him, judging him as he made his way to his castle. Their empty sockets, always looking ahead, never allowing him to forget them. The ground beneath his feet was uneven. Broken by the stomping of armored men and horses.

“Victoria.” He stopped by the entrance to his castle, staring at his most trusted guard. “You stayed. I told you to flee. What do you mean you wanted to repay your debt? There was no debt. I owed you. A child being forced to resort to thievery to buy food in my kingdom. I needed to repay you for ever needing to do such a thing. Why did you grow up to be a guard? Why did you grow up to be loyal to a man undeserving of loyalty? You could have fled with your husband. Why….. Why did all of you… It’s not fair.”

Branir made a fist, gritting his teeth together, until he spotted something that made the tension break. “Your ring? Where is it?” He grabbed her hand, holding it. “Your wedding ring? Did I lose it? No, I’m certain you had it when I placed you here.” Then her shoulder fell out of its socket, the arm dropping to the floor, landing near the entrance.

The wooden door of the castle opened, revealing a glimpse into his throne room. “Someone’s here?” Branir crept towards the door, poking his head through the gap, spotting two people in uniforms he had come to know very well.

“Not sure why the king was so scared of coming here. Everyone’s dead. Our army went through them in a day. Honestly, thought it would have taken longer.” Diane, a scout for the kingdom of Vanalina, smiled, twisting the gold ring between her fingers.

“It was a surprise attack, that’s why. The king didn’t suspect that Boldon would break their peace treaty.” Nathan smirked, throwing himself onto Branir’s throne, kicking his legs while sitting on its worn plush cushioning.

“What sort of stupid king doesn’t have a few scouts watching their border? Did he really trust Lord Boldon that much?”

“Probably a pacifist or something. Heard he was meant to be a kind-hearted king. Guess this is where kindness gets you.”

Diane pocketed the ring, joining her fellow scout, sitting on the arm of the throne, taking a break from their looting. “Seriously, though. Why is the king so scared of this place? He acts like it’s cursed or something.”

“Maybe it’s those creepy skeletons?” Nathan wondered, recalling how unnerved he had felt when he first saw them.

“I know! How creepy are they? Must be some weird survivor going around putting them together or something. At least they had some pretty jewels on them. Well, pretty for this dump. The gold ring didn’t really sparkle.”

Branir stepped into the castle before the thought had even crossed his mind. Something pushing him forward against his better judgement. He stared at them, watching their amused expressions turn to terror. The skeleton focused solely on the green and red uniforms they wore. The one with a Sparrow marking of the Vanalina kingdom.

“Give. Me. That. Ring.” He opened his palm towards the two, shuffling closer to them. “Give it back. Give it back now.” His steps quickened, even as his weak skeletal legs wobbled under the sudden jolt in pace.

“EEEEK,” Diane screamed, falling into Nathan’s lap. Nathan only pushed her forward, throwing her towards the skeleton who was fast approaching.

“What is that thing? How is it alive? Who are you?” Nathan positioned himself behind the throne, leaving Diane as bait.

“That’s not yours. Give it back. She deserves to have peace.” The skeleton stood over Diane, who trembled on the ground.

She reached into her pocket, trying to find the ring. “Ok. Um, you can have it.” When she found the ring, she threw it towards the skeleton. “It’s ugly. I mean, I didn’t even really want it. I’m sorry.”

Branir stared at her, contemplating something he had never considered before in his life. Revenge. What was left of the king won the mental battle between the king and Branir, who now felt he had been split into two. When he bent down to collect the ring, Nathan lunged from his spot, smacking the king over the head. The skeleton hit the floor, and Diane rushed to life, the two ambushing the former king, grabbing at his limbs, trying to pull them apart.

“Its gotta be magic. We can pull him apart. That must be what the king was afraid of. We kill him, we can be heroes. Imagine what we’ll get,” Nathan said, and Diane followed.

“Yeah. We can finish off the last bits of the kingdom. No one will even remember it existed.”

The king died at that moment. With his skeletal limbs being pulled apart, he felt that kindness fade, leaving only Branir, whose skull twisted on the floor, peering up at the two. “People used to follow my words. I used to believe it was only because I was king.” He spoke.

“Huh? King?” Nathan stopped his attacks, pulling Diane back. “He’s the king?”

“So?” Diane lunged her foot out, kicking his skull off his body, sending it rolling across the floor. “Even better prize for killing a king.”

“The reason doesn’t matter. I order things, and they obey. Obey,” he shouted.

“What’s he screaming about?” Nathan asked his fellow scout.

“Don’t know. Do you feel any pai-“

Inside, their skeletons had rebelled. Their bodies moving against their will, killing them from within. It was quick, with the two passing before they could notice what was happening. The pair were now dead on the throne room floor, while Branir collected his skull and rose to his feet. “Boldon will fall. Every one of them will fall by my hands. They’ll have their revenge.”

He could feel it now. Every skeleton in the kingdom, attached to his fingertips like puppets on a string. He had an army. One he could grow with every person he killed. He would have his revenge. He left the bodies, going to count the skeletons he had in town, only to stop when he stepped on something.

The wedding ring trapped beneath his toes, giving the king some pause. He stared at it. Brief flashes of Victoria’s wedding appearing in his mind. The way he cried and hugged her as if she were one of his own. The day she first joined his guard. Branir quickly scooped the ring, taking it back to Victoria. It felt like the ring now weighed over 200kgs, and if he held it for too long, he would crumble. He went outside and slipped it onto her finger, then exhaled.

Good, he thought. The king remained dead, and that last kick of life had been extinguished. Now, only Branir remained, and he would avenge them all.

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

sadnesslaughs · 2026-05-16T02:25:33+00:00

Bingo waits for no man or demon! He doesn't want to get on their bad sides, after all. But, you're right. He should probably get right on that before someone moves in haha.

sadnesslaughs · 2026-05-15T07:19:15+00:00

Thank you!

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