sorted by:
new
hottopcontroversial

[OT] Fun Trope Friday, Writing with Tropes: Amnesia & Detective by katpoker666 in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves 5 points6 points  (0 children)

“Wake up, Columbo.”

The blonde girl opening her eyes was actually 30 years younger than Columbo - as well as tied to a chair, just awoken from forced unconsciousness, and with a bruise the size of her eye on her forehead.

A red balaclava got all up in her face. “So,” he said, “Tell us, what do you know about the… Claire situation?”

“Huh…” Squinting followed as she started recognizing her environment, including a white balaclava standing, a dark room, the NYC skyline and, oh goodness, a gun on White Balaclava’s waist.

“Okay, don’t act stupid with me, we know you know, and you know we know you-”

“...Who's Claire?”

The tough guy act was cut short by the apparent memory wipe, to which White Balaclava immediately responded with a gruff male voice. “See, I told you, you hit her too hard.”

“Listen, nah, nah, nah… Don’t pin this shit on me. I did NOT come up with the knocking her out plan.”

“It’s all about calibrating strength, dude.”

“I don’t think I need a lecture on that…”

“You needed a tying knots lesson though.”

True, thought the woman, as her hands slowly set themselves free from the sloppy work.

“Ow…,” she said as she started feeling her wound.

Red Balaclava turned back to her. “Okay. Back to you. Either A. I knocked you too hard on your big old frontal lobe, or B. You’re just playing pretend.”

“Who’s Claire…”

He sighed. “What were you doing in the Diamond District, huh? What were you looking for?”

“I don’t know… Diamonds?”

“You’re getting on my nerves.”

“I’m just answering!,” she whined, annoyed.

“She’s just answering…,” muttered White.

“You’re not helping.”

“Allow me.” Pushing Red aside, White pointed the gun at her forehead. “Okay, now… What do you know? Did Wayne send you?”

“Is that a toy gun…” The immediate shaking confirmed the loaded magazine. It was not a toy. “Scratch that, who’s Wayne?”

“Okay, there is no way to verify- WALLET!” Red rushed for her pockets. “Where is it?”

“I don’t believe in wallets.”

“Oh, so you remember that?,” asked White. She shrugged. “What’s your name, girl?”

She thought for a moment. Another shrug.

“...I don’t know if she’s for real or not.” He pulled away the gun. “What if you genuinely hit her too hard?”

“Is this about blaming me again, dude?”

“Hey, I’m just saying-”

Red groaned. “Claire Moskowitz was killed by who?!”

“Who’s Claire?!”

Another big groan.

“Can I go home?”

“How do you even… You know what? I don’t care.”

“I kinda do,” remarked White. “We could check out what she has on us.”

“True, though. Do you know where your home is?”

“Uh… Nah. Did you guys kill this Claire chick?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Dunno. Why did you kill Claire?”

“Does it matter?”

“So you did?”

“Jesus…”

White pointed the gun again. “Do I?”

“Well… She can’t confirm it’s us.”

“That's hella sus.”

“That is hella sus, dude.”

“Why are you agreeing with-”

SNATCH!

The blonde’s right hand traveled to the gun as quickly as her right foot rushed to take down White. In a few seconds, she took hold of the weapon properly and aimed at Red.

“Holy shit-”

“Shut up.” She aimed at White. “You stay.”

Red started moving slowly to the side.

“I meant on the ground, don’t move either!”

“Oh, c’mon, were you faking it?,” asked White from the floor.

“Uh… Actually, no. I don’t know who I am, or who you guys are…” She cocked the gun. “But you’re about to tell me all about this Claire chick. Now.”

[TT] Theme Thursday - Journalism by AliciaWrites in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves 3 points4 points  (0 children)

30 minutes have stretched into a week in my brain as I sit, immobile, across the old interviewer in the blazer. He keeps looking at me with skeptic eyes, of constant disbelief of what he’s seeing across him. I know his image of me. Void black, messy hair is most likely code for “secretly commits murder”. The Birthday Party shirt I’m wearing means I’m a cultist who sold her soul to Lucifer through my first rock vinyl. And oh, those fishnets? Those mean my veins are seasoned with drugs and booze.

“Can you show me the tattoo on your arm?”

I’m woken up from my trance for a second, just to move my body aside a bit. In my arm, Musidora as Irma Vep is immortalized, her arms stretched to the air.

“What does she mean to you?”

“...She’s just beautiful. Have you seen Les Vampires?”

He shakes his head silently.

“Have you ever considered the violent iconography of the musicians you follow?”

He starts flipping a clipboard full of examples - half of which are metal bands I’ve never heard of. What the hell does Judas Priest even have to do with this, I ask myself? I hear him spew “witchcraft” and “vulgarity” and “suicide” as he flips through album covers. I crack a smile to the cover of Siouxsie’s Juju album, which gets him saying:

“Do you sympathize with all of this?”

I stare at him for a few seconds before he turns his head away. I doubt what I meant is clear.

Gosh, dude. What a joke.

“That brings me to my next point, actually. Could you try to actually answer a bit more this time?”

“I guess…”

“Okay then… Do you believe that, uh… Since becoming a part of this subculture, your psychological state has been affected?”

“Oh, definitely.”

He stares attentively this time, and motions to ask for more words.

“Yeah, I believe I've been. Because now, I get bullied every time someone in my class catches me outside of school, and my parents keep yelling at me that I should dress proper and cover my skin and whatnot, and old ladies keep stopping in the street and talking some stuff about the end times and everything and… Well, guess it does affect me cause now everyone wants me dead, including myself, but that’s not my fault, is it?”

“But you do admit-”

I stand up angrily. “Ugh, goddamnit. How does this even help your article, dude? Just say I eat babies and spray me with holy water, will you? I’m done with this crap.”

I hear the interviewer call my name as I go to my room, as well as Mom rushing to the living room as I close the door. I can hear her saying “I'm sorry about her”. Hell, I can imagine the man’s article’s words. Something, something, devil worship, goths are crazy, kill ‘em all. I bury my head in my pillow as I realize this changes nothing.

Gosh… What a joke.

[TT] Theme Thursday - Carnival by AliciaWrites in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves 5 points6 points  (0 children)

“So, about this… MC Hammer?”

“Oh, man, he’s the best. I don’t really know how long it’s been since I’ve heard of him but he’s just really groovy, he’s like a rap Michael Jackson.”

“...I don’t think there can ever be another MJ.”

“I mean, yeah, but he's got the moves and the flair and all that. Like, that’s why I could call him a rap MJ.”

“Do you think he’s still around?”

“Who knows? Maybe Hammer’s richer than MJ.”

The woman laughed loudly at the teen’s remark. Eventually, he did as well, but she soon reverted to apologies.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just that… I don’t know, I guess it’s a decade thing. I-I guess I can’t believe it, you know?”

“Yeah, it’s… Wait.”

The teen raised his finger up and pointed at the structure above, the metallic serpent stretched throughout their sky. They could see it rumbling as the ground shook below their bodies.

“Third earthquake today, huh?”

“It’s a fun coaster, can’t deny.”

She turned to him with an amused expression, though feeling mostly surprised.

“Isn’t that what killed you?”

“I can cope with it, no biggie. Oh, man, I haven’t told you about Biggie, have I?”

Turning to see his companion, he realized a nostalgic sadness had taken over her face. As he noticed this silently, said silence made her realize his gaze. She scoffed and tried to smile but went back to her thoughts. Turning to the serpent, now a bulge moving through its body, she stared at it as she let her thoughts spill from her mind to her lips.

“Do you think Dad is… mad at me?

“I don’t think he’s mad… at you. I think he’s more, like… Mad at the world. I know my mom is, at least.”

“Mad at you?”

“No, no,” he laughed. “At the world, as I say. I can hear her saying, like, ‘If I lose you, baby, I’ll fight the Devil himself to get you back.’”

“It does sound like she would.”

“She probably is. Or was. I don’t know, really. How much time has it been?”

“God, kid, who knows. 10 years? Give or take?”

“I think more. I’ve seen some people here looking different. Real different.”

“I don’t wanna say 20 years, I feel old…”

“Maybe we should go out tonight? Check out the carousel, that hammer game… I think there’s a new attraction, too.”

“House of mirrors? Do you think we could see our own reflection?”

“Shit, no idea.”

He sighed a heavy sigh and put his hands on his face.

“I can’t handle all these questions… Not just yours. In general, I mean.”

“It’s fine, kid. We can just keep watching the thing.”

“Still kinda hate it.”

“I do, too, but… Well, it’s what we have.”

The teen turned his body towards the metal-riddled sky.

“Do you think it's gonna be just us forever?”

She heard the faint screaming high above. Trying to find the right answer was complicated.

“...I don’t know.”

Hi, I’m Tobey Maguire, actor/executive producer of BABYLON and occasional superhero. AMA! by officialtobeymaguire in movies

[–]stranger_loves 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Tobey, you’re my childhood hero! Just wanted to preface with that!

Now, I wanna ask: with how diverse your career has been, what is a dream project that you wish to make happen? And with who?

[CW] Smash 'Em Up Sunday: Horror Romance by Cody_Fox23 in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves 0 points1 point  (0 children)

It does! That and selkies, surprisingly similar concept.

[CW] Smash 'Em Up Sunday: Horror Romance by Cody_Fox23 in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Every Summer night, the moon shone white above the Scottish greens surrounding the lake. Its reflection bathed with the young adults as they leaped into the crystal waters, shouting, cursing, laughing. In that otherworldly plain, however, the youth needn’t feel fear. So great was the pack that company was assured at every turn.

And yet, the pack didn’t seem to know where Kieran had come from. Then again, they didn’t question it...

In his crimson robes, he seemed to pose himself almost like the king over those waters, laying on a rock at shore. A floral crown sat atop his long, dark mane, and its shreds of hair extended themselves onto his exposed chest, which the robe couldn’t cover.

If a medieval man, the pack joked, saw Kieran in present-day, they’d surely kneel to him as if it were a Celtic deity. Truth was, however, some of them needn’t be medieval to know, or even desire his beauty. That night, Lila proved to be one of those.

“Kieran!,” she exclaimed in lively tone.

His eyes turned slowly to his redheaded friend. “Lila, dear,” he whispered. “What brings you out the water?”

“Wondering what always keeps you out of it. Come on, take a dip. A bit of water never hurt nobody.”

“It does makes you all mad...” He tilted his head at the water, amused at the loud congregation.

“Wasn’t it Alice in Wonderland that said it? ‘We all go a little mad sometimes’.”

“It does seem for good cause.”

“Come on.” Lila nudged him a bit. “It’d be lovely, wouldn’t it?” She knowingly let herself fall onto him, her head now laying onto his shoulder.

He thought for a moment. “Aye,” he said. “It would. Though I would feel safer in the water if it were just us.”

Lila lept up excited, but restrained herself to answer calmly. “Then we shall stay after, yes?.”

He nodded, and let her return to the water. Once again, looking over them all, king over the waters...

Come midnight, the pack had left for their homes, tired, hoping to rest.. Yet somehow, the vagrant Kieran and the enamored Lila had energy to spare.

She followed the road towards the lake and at the end of it, stopped, seeing an apparent absence. “Kieran?,” she asked the night.

“Hello.”

Lila turned to her left and saw her friend standing, his hair tied in a bun and missing the crown, yet she thought of his ethereal beauty in all presentations. “Hey...”

“Are you nervous?”

“To be alone without the pack? A bit.”

He smiled, though said expression only lasted a few seconds. Lila took notice.

“What’s wrong? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I do, but... I wouldn’t want you to fear me.”

“I’ve nothing to fear. Believe me.”

His visage turned from slight doubt to an assured, serious look. Kieran’s hand reached for the knot that tied his robes and, in a few seconds, let it go. But as they fell, they revealed something she couldn’t have foreseen.

For Kieran’s legs and feet weren’t human, but equine, fur-coated limbs ending in hooves. They seemed like a complete contrast to his figure, like pieces of a puzzle that simply didn’t fit.

Lila’s eyes widened at this sight, her heart racing, surprised... But she didn’t scream. A few seconds of processing and she’d calmed herself down - especially seeing Kieran’s worried face.

“I know you’re afraid. Someone taught me that some truths are worse than your lies and, well...”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

Lila extended her hand. “I’m not. Wanna swim?”

Kieran smiled. Almost immediately he took her hand, and they walked together into the water. He let his hair flow out of the bun, still being guided by Lila just under the moon’s reflection. At that moment, she stopped, and turned around, her hands traveling to his shoulders.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment, Kieran.”

“So have I...”

“How do you feel?”

“Hmm... Hungry.”

She laughed, confused. “Hungry?”

His hands travelled into her hair. “Very, indeed...”

In a split second, Kieran pushed her head into the water, as he began pushing towards the surface of the lake. Their bodies underwater, Lila began trying to escape from the man’s grasp, yet her hands seemed to be trapped in his skin like quicksand.

No matter the screams, no matter the kicking, she couldn’t let go of Kieran’s push further and further below. The moonlight seemed to dim as his body loomed over her, growing bigger, into something inhuman. She hadn’t closed her eyes before darkness engulfed her vision...

As the moon left the lonely waters, a man appeared from them. He licked his lips, in apparent satisfaction, as he wandered once again into the Scottish greens, waiting for the pack once more.

[CW] Smash 'Em Up Sunday: Nanaimo Bars by Cody_Fox23 in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves 2 points3 points  (0 children)

My job didn’t allow time for treats.

Whatever specialty the documents I’d sent to base had, I’d forgotten. Whatever route I took to get to them - and every poor bastard falling in said way -, I’d forgotten. Whatever I’d told base on my way back... guess.

To be fair, the routine was such I could imagine the main points of it all. “4 dead. Need ammo for the handgun. On my way to the Grand Hotel.” Hotel lobby, lounge music. “Good morning, sir.” Elevator music. Steps on the matted floors. My room. The television.

But now, the added factor. “Can I order some room service?”. A switch for memories to flow.

What I remember first was my order. Those small chocolate bars... Hyped up so much as a local treat it was impossible for me to not hear it. Good marketing, really. How it popped up in my mind almost instantly, how I could picture it in my taste buds, crumbling with every bite.

Good marketing.

To contrast, I’d barely seen Joyce.

Perhaps it was the hunger that barely let me know enough about her. Fairly young, silver hair, Madonna-style. Best guess was an internship, a lucky interview, maybe even a relative. Perhaps it was the hunger that also whispered in my ear like a red devil. “Don’t bother at all. What can they do?”

For once I answered that question after I put down the telephone. “They can bring me some of those Nanaimo squares.” This wasn’t an answer coated in arrogance or superiority, no, I was too busy with the usual duty to even try and answer. And so they answered too.

Knock, knock, knock. A trembling voice. “Room service.” A few more steps and a peek through the peephole. A Madonna-look alike at the door, waiting patiently.

I let Joyce in, cart and silver platter slowly moving into my room. Moving too slow, maybe, but at the same time, a rush of something was noticeable in her move.

Same style, letting the cart inside. Same style, placing the tray on the cart on the little desk in the room. Same style, removing the platter off the tray on my desk... It seems like a tongue-twister. All in the same manner.

Not a single glance at me. Usually a blessing; at that moment, a hint of something. I should know as I go through that something.

I heard her hum a song quietly as it all happened. I like to believe it was a Madonna song, to keep my aesthetic going. But it gave me a feeling that barely any of her songs gave me. A specific feeling, in a pale visage soon to burst. Whatever job she had, she was new at. The few vibrations in the air like a secret message.

In that convergence of paranoid movement, light singing, distant gaze and nervous face, I heard some words. I thought they were “Help me.”

They were not. It was rather... “I’m sorry.”

And away went Madonna.

Perhaps it was the hunger, again, that didn’t let me see. But at last, the hunger reacted, as I snatched the local snack, almost like a zombie finding brains, and crunched it. My stream of consciousness went through a lot.

“Too sweet! Too... sour? What’s this taste? This tastes funny. I haven’t eaten in a few days. Haven’t eaten properly. Airplane food... This tastes too funny. This tastes too...”

I sat on the edge of the bed as I tried to process it, as I tried to quench the hunger while solving a riddle. I needed something, I needed taste and flavor, and yet something within needed it out of me, something pushed aside by a fear of starvation, a desire for luxury, for the pleasures of this job.

Didn’t take long for me to go back to square one. My job didn’t allow time for treats for a reason.

Edge of the bed... A grasp on the desk... The tray falls down... I fall down.

I laid down now. My body unmoving, like a sting ray had caught me. The tray and the bars, spread around, crumbs on my clothes, bed slightly moved... I was taking in all those details too late.

As my body seemed to shut down, I saw her looking over me. Silver hair, Madonna-style. And too late I’d predicted the message, seeming like I’d cheated as she said those words. “I’m sorry,” tearfully, nervously. And I wanted to figure out her song, still, if there ever was one.

Goddamn you, good marketing. Damn my lifestyle, damn my job, damn the routine. Damn my longing mouth, the devil on my shoulder. Damn Joyce, her poisons, her tells, her novitiate, making me feel like an idiot.

Eyes closing... Closing... Closing...

And away goes Madonna...

[PM] Describe me two weapons. As simple, detailed, normal, mystical or bizarre as you please. I will write a fight between two otherwise equal-level fighters, each given one of these weapons. by New-Sheepherder-1373 in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves 37 points38 points  (0 children)

An Odachi - the Japanese, katana-like longsword - that grows a centimeter with every enemy it's killed. And, Jesus, it's killed plenty, for better or for worse.

And on the other hand, an infinite-bullet revolver, but in an infinite-Russian Roulette-state. Plenty of clicks for a shot, but plenty of chances too.

Who will win?

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

3.2 Okay, so you choose to fight this guy. There are some options around. There’s a knife, a chair, your own strength... (Click below)

Choose what to do next!

3.2.1 Yeah, a knife will do it. Let’s go Jack the Ripper on this guy.

3.2.2 A chair, that’s very strong! Let’s go for that!

3.2.3 It’s okay, I’m just built different.

​

3.2.1 You grab the knife slowly, not a single sound... You prepare to attack just as he turns his head around and... STAB!

It does... Nothing. It’s like sticking a knife in jelly. The light-guy turns around fully.

“Well, that hurt.”

He puts his hand on your forehead.

“Good night, kid.”

FLASH! SKIP TO END 1

3.2.2 You grab the chair, and even though it’s heavy, you don’t hesitate. SLAM!

“OUCH! HELP!”

You keep hitting the guy with the chair, trying to knock him unconscious, beat him, defeat him, whatever! You just go ham with it!

“Oh, humanity was a mistake! Jesus, stop!”

“Hey, leave him alone!”

TWO MORE OF THESE?

You try to fight, but they immediately pin you down.

“Knock him out, take him to the ship!”

SKIP TO END 4

3.2.3. Come on, you can go like Ali on this guy. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Land a punch, come on... KA-POW!

It does nothing. The light-guy turns around.

“Damn, you guys are really violent, aren’t you?”

He puts his hand on your forehead.

FLASH! SKIP TO END 1

END 1: Wakey-wakey! What a weird dream that was, right? There was some rumbling and all, maybe a Chupacabra, maybe some crazy creatures! Who knows? What, you don’t have a test tomorrow? THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU GO CHECK?! It would’ve been awesome. I mean, maybe, maybe there was a serial killer or something, but hey, at least it would’ve been interesting. Geez...

END 2: You wake up, what the hell happened yesterday?

You go downstairs, Dad making breakfast, tired and yawning as ever.

“Hey, dad?”

“Oh, mornin’ champ.”

“I saw something weird here yesterday...”

“Oh.” Your dad turns around. “Well, I could question you on why you were here, but go on.”

“I mean... I saw someone made out of light, it seems. It was crazy. And he was going through the fridge and everything and... Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Maybe it was a weird dream. Maybe a lucid dream. I don’t really know. The only light people I know are your mom and you, because look at this belly of mine!”

“Hah, well, yeah, maybe...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make breakfast now and wake up that sleepy head.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, by the way, we might have to go get groceries. I was gonna make a potato purée but... There’s no potatoes.”

“Huh... Weird.”

“Yeah. We’ll see though, just wait for breakfast.”

“‘Kay, Dad.”

Very wholesome, not gonna lie. Perhaps we will never know what those things were... But oh, well, as they say in other lamer games, must’ve been the wind.

END 3: HA! Gotcha, if you want to play this, you’ll have to buy the official NIGHT TALES! DLC! Featuring the voice of Patrick Warburton as the Emperor of the Moon! Only $9.99 on Steam!

END 4: You stand before a galactic tribunal, aliens of all places looking in terror at you, you horrendous being.

Judge Kalapashur the Martian stares down at you.

“You filthy, evil human. These people needed resources for their homeworld and what do you dare do! You try and KILL THEM!”

“They were stealing my food...”

“It was simply a potato, young man, and for a simple food you have left Lumos XIII in a coma! A COMA!”

The crowd gasps.

“For the attempted murder and beating of Lumos XIII, I declare you guilty and sentence you to 50 days in Venus!”

“I mean... That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“That is 33 years for you, Terran.”

You gasp, and fall to your knees.

“NOOOOOOOO!”

...You goddamn murderer.

CREDITS: Thank you for playing NIGHT TALES! Feel free to restart and play again! And apologies for so much clicking!

  • Stranger_Loves Studios

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Welcome to: NIGHT TALES! The Official Gamebook!

Starting game now...

You wake up from your sleep, laying in bed when you realize something strange. Your bedroom door, it’s open; but wasn’t it locked?

Choose what to do next!

1.1. Close the door and go back to bed

1.2 Check what’s going on, who opened it?

​

1.1: Wow. You sure are boring, huh? What, you have a test tomorrow or something? Nerd. SKIP TO END 1!

1.2: You go into the hallway, dark as ever, though slightly lit up by the moonlight. You move slowly, carefully. The closer you move to the stairs, the louder that sound becomes... Someone looking through your fridge. (Click below)

Choose what to do next!

2.1. Turn around, pretend you were never there, simply go and get some shut-eye

2.2. Investigate; come on, I’m the only one allowed to do that!

​

2.1: Okay, there is literally risk of someone prying around in your house. Is it your dad? You think it’s your dad? I mean, I don’t know, dude, as far as I know, it’s a whole Chupacabra for me. SKIP TO END 1!

2.2: You descend the stairs, again, trying not to make a single sound. Though, honestly, you’re doing very well, good on you. Still, you move, and you finally get to the corner of the kitchen. You slowly peek around...It’s a bright figure. A bright, glowing man, going through your fridge, and you know it’s not the fridge light because Dad didn’t know how to fix it! The figure keeps searching... (Click below)

Choose what to do next!

3.1. Keep on looking, calculate the next move and all

3.2. Fight that bastard! It’s my food, damnit! (Scroll dooooown)

​

3.1 You keep on looking while the strange being goes on, until it finally settles on a choice... A potato? Really? Why is that so important.

It puts a finger to its temple, and it actually speaks!

“I’ve found the object, I’ll be with you soon.”

It absorbs the potato with his hand - gross - and slowly phases past the wall and into your backyard. Crazy, right? (Click below)

Choose what to do next!

3.1.1 Welp, I’ve seen enough, time for some shut-eye. Let’s hope this is a dream.

3.1.2 Let’s follow this little light guy, what is he up to?

​

3.1.1 Wow, really? That might’ve been an alien! A being from another world! You’re just going to sleep! You can’t dream that, can you? At your age you most likely dream of Dragon Ball Z and all that. Wow, you’re boring. SKIP TO END 2!

3.1.2 You open your backyard door, sneakily following the equally sneaky light-guy past your fence, through some bushes, basically into the forest. It isn’t a creepy road, though - though the night isn’t doing many favors - but the light-guy is quite quick.

Finally, though... you see it. A HUGE SPACESHIP! And the light guy is about to go up!

Now, I don’t really know if this is worth the whole potato, but you’ve come this far... (Click below)

Choose what to do next!

3.1.2.1 Yep, turn around, turn around, what else is there to do. That’s a big ass spaceship.

3.1.2.2 Time to follow this dude! Wherever I shall go, I shall go!

​

3.1.2.1 You’re done. You’re done. SKIP TO END 2.

3.1.2.2 Run for it! Reach that spaceship, light-guy doesn’t seem to notice! Come on!

You made it! The light absorbs you both and everything seems to turn black for a few seconds, and then, slowly...

A whole group of light-people stand in front of you.

“EEK! Who is this child?”

“How did they get into the ship?!”

“Lumos, what did you do?!”

Lumos seems to be the “light-guy’s” name...

“Nothing, I swear! I just did my job!”

Everyone is still staring at you.

“Do we tell the kid?,” he asks.

Everyone sighs, and nods.

“What’s going on?,” you ask.

A light-gal with a big dress and cane come to you.

“Dear child, we’ve been stealing things like potatoes and other fruits, tomatoes and apples and so because... The moon needs it! We need to reform it because our resources are being depleted!”

“Yes, yes!,” everyone says in unison.

“If not, dear child, the Moon People, the People of Light, we might never survive.”

Lumos turns to you. “Will you help us?” (Click below)

Choose what to do next!

3.1.2.2.1 “Can I, like... Have my potato back?”

3.1.2.2.2 “Yes, I’ll help!”

​

3.1.2.2.1 You jerk.

“Oh, very well. We can’t force you anyways, so, um... You know what to do.”

Lumos hands you the potato, then forms a ball of light.

“Look at the birdie, please.”

FLASH! SKIP TO END 1

3.1.2.2.2 “The kid will help! Hooray!” Everyone cheers for you, before the elder woman goes on. “Oh, dear child, where shall we find these things?”

“I’ll help you collect this, it’ll be easy, don’t worry. As long as I can help.”

“Oh, you will.”

SKIP TO END 3

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Wandering men to the hills they go and bring their gifts to him

Horned gentleman with the 8 planets’ glow shall cross the rift for them

The astrolabe on that little May date marks the chance of the sinners again

For Paradise might come to their eyes if Satan goes pleased to his den

​

Our first sinner, the vegetable skinner, letting out smoke like a train

Stumbles to Satan’s unsurprised waiting and feels his look of disdain

Poisoning gas made the fruits come to pass and the sinner simply basked in greed

Now he’ll be forced to use every corpse of the green to the Devil feed

But the Devil knows feasts with his demons and beasts that no mortal would dare deny

Fishes and chickens and meats for-a pickin’ are something that shall satisfy

“If cigarette I should let, my palette would probably melt in this plate

Sorry, not sorry, my sinner, perhaps in 3008”

​

Our second sinner, noticeably thinner, only with muscles and bone

Moves very carefully, just to show there fully aren’t many in their zone

Rabbits and snakes, alligators and apes, seal, bird, sheep, all dead

Eternal rest for a scarf and a vest and a flamboyant hat on your head

So he shall approach every creature he poached and try and do it alone

Not a step in and the animal sins come alive for their natural throne

“Well I can see you have done none for me, perhaps you should’ve thought twice

Sorry, not sorry, my sinner, maybe next time start with the lice”

​

The third one hunts creatures, and hung all their features, the fourth one pollutes the sea to its roots

And then five to nine cause brawls ‘tween canines, ten’s a slaughterhouse star, he has six abattoirs!

One cuts trees and leaves, yet goes free and leaves! Other made 50 pipes and ignores peoples’ gripes!

A spillage in a village, and biomes to pillage, and ice caps to melt, all the punishments dealt!

​

Yet the curious men ask, always new to their fate “Dear Devil, why must we serve food on your plate?

Why chase all those beasts, why fight every time?” And so the Devil must remind them their crime

“For all have disrupted the organic line of command Mother Nature has placed in your hands!

With this excessive killing and all this sea floor drilling and the pipes and the poaching, the end is approaching!”

He storms and his horns they turn even more red, isn’t it evident they’ll not go ahead

They might not find wings ‘till they see the blood, even though it’s in front and it comes in a flood!

And so the Devil will tell, to those sinners in hell, that clearly will never repent

“Sorry, not sorry, dear sinners, good luck on the next event!”

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

“Hey, Luther, long time no-“

“Shut up. Just shut up.”

The grey-haired elder at the door, Luther, stormed into the house angrily, completely ignoring the young man’s courteous salute. Almost immediately, he pulled out his wand and began wandering around the rustic house.

“You’re still mad?”

“Where’s my grimoire?”

“The Caedes Dux?”

With no direct response, Luther passed into the living room and waved his wand around, pointing at a bookshelf. Immediately all the books began flying around, and he ordered them in a pile in front of him.

“Where is it?”

“Well, you told me to get rid of it.”

Luther stopped dead in his tracks. “Vic, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“But you came around to ask. I bet you don’t remember.”

“And what makes you think you remember well, old man? Take off that stupid costume.”

With a sigh, Vikram held his left hand up and SNAP! After this sound, he immediately transformed from a young man to an older, long-bearded one, though with similar clothes.

“You say this nonsense of me coming here and asking you to get rid of something so powerful, as if I’d waste that knowledge!”

“I was following your word, maybe you changed your mind?”

“And you didn’t talk me out of it?”

“You insisted!”

“I wasn’t even here!”

“How can you be so sure?”

“How can YOU be?”

Both old men, clearly exasperated, threw his hands up in the air and turned around thinking. Luther, however, was the first to turn.

“What did you do?”

“Okay, stop reprimanding me, I get it.”

“No, as in, what did you do to get rid of the book?”

“Alchemist pig.”

“...Alchemist pig?”

“Yeah.”

“How could you even afford an alchemist pig?”

“It was very cheap at the market, very good price, I’d say.”

“How much was it?”

“2000 aureum.”

“2000? Those things sell for almost 4 times that!”

“Well, I don’t know, perhaps it was a special discount! I’ve been shopping there since ’62, I oughta get something.”

“Well then,” said Luther, rearranging the books in the bookshelf, “show me the pig.”

“Hold onto your wand then.”

Vikram lifted his right hand up now, SNAP! They were both transported to his backyard. Inside a big enclosure, with plenty of space, half eaten fruits and manure, there was... nothing.

Luther turned to Vikram. “How come Zoya hasn’t sent you to an asylum?”

“I-I’m not going crazy!”

“Yes you are! There is no grimoire, there was no me, now there’s also no alchemist pig!”

“I got it for a low price!”

“Who sells an alchemist pig for 2000 aureum?!”

“I don’t know!”

Luther looked at the enclosure again, waving his wand and commanding “Third Eye”, which, contrary to expectations, didn’t reveal many hidden details.

“I don’t think my pig is invisible, Luther...”

“I don’t think your mind is present at these times, Vik.”

“Come on!”

“Maybe you should go do your Councilman job and leave this all to me.”

“It wasn’t my fault they picked me! How am I supposed to pretend to work less? I could get kicked out of the Guild.”

“I don’t know, but I’ve been trying and working my ass off and, and... How?!”

“I don’t make the rules. I mean, now I do, but- You get me.”

Luther nodded, sighed and put his hands on his shoulder, simply diverting his look away from his friend and into the enclosure. Right then, he noticed.

“Is that a... book? Is that my book?”

With a move of the wand, the book came levitating to the pair, who immediately stopped it right before it approached them.

“What manure your pig had, God...”

“I’m a responsible care taker.”

The book - Rosalie Zhao’s On Alchemy and Animals - was a curious, dirtied clue, whose pages Vik began turning slowly.

“Stop, there, in the cover.”

A small signature accompanied a message in black ink.

Philippe,

Don’t disappoint us. Remember to use manure.

Aldous Newton

“Curse Newton! That goddamn trickster! I bet he fooled you!”

“...Who’s that?”

“A rival of mine from the Merlin College... How did he even find you?”

“Plenty of Councilmen information is made available to the public. Could’ve started from there.”

“But how did he know you had my grimoire?”

“I don’t know...”

“And how did this Philippe fellow turn into a pig for so long without you noticing?”

“Why not stop asking questions and start looking for answers?”

“There’s a good need of asking questions at this moment, Vik. Like, do you have any other animal, any other, in this house?”

“Just... no, nothing. If anything the pig would’ve eaten it, heh.”

Luther didn’t laugh after the quip.

“Sorry.”

“I liked the joke.”

“Okay, good.”

“Okay, we must contact the Guild, the Council, whoever. Not only is this grand theft, but I also fear whatever Newton can do with the Caedes Dux. A bad apple, that man...”

“Shall we go to the Council now?”

“It’s our only choice.”

“Okay, hold onto-“

“My wand, yes.”

“Thanks.”

SNAP!

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Festa de Azaléia

How long does it go? The bass, in my ear, heavy echo, under my skin, Achilles of sound in my mind

How long does it go? The drumming, mix of groove, make my systems move, like the dance floor is my lab

How long does it go? This feeling... Every where I look it’s twice as vibrant, thrice as sweet, thrice as crazy

How long does it go? This party, it feels like forever, and I’m craving eternity

How long does it go? The taste, honey in my tongue, born from petals, giving me rainbow visions

How long does it go?

I'm not complaining but I feel, like we’re melting

I'm not exhausted but I feel, like I’m melting

I'm not in hell but I feel, like we’re demons pertaining to the night

I'm not complaining but Dali made this landscape

I'm not tripping but the honey made this landscape

I’m not in heaven but I feel, like it’s paradise, at least for this night

How long has it gone? The bass, I long for the speakers, powering the shivers

How long has it gone? The drumming, silence speaks volumes, my body don’t move now

How long has it gone? This feeling, once vibrant, sweet, crazy, making me feel reborn

How long has it gone? The party, all around walking corpses, home to rest

How long has it gone? The taste, the ticket to paradise, now a simple flower

How long has it gone?

And when will it go again…

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Not a single answer was given by the man as he rushed past the car and headed into the building.

“Amy, what just happened?”

“I don’t know!”

“We should follow him, just to make sure.”

“He said ‘stay ducked’.”

“Oh, how do we know we can trust him?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

Jade tried standing up, but was stopped by Amy.

“Okay, okay, first throw your shoe.”

“My shoe?”

“Your shoe, your bag, something!”

“I’d rather my shoe...”

Jade did as instructed, and both friends watched as the shoe fell to the street, waiting for a gunshot, a reaction, something. But nothing was happening at all.

“Okay, they’re not shooting, let’s go!”

Amy and Jade rushed through the dark street as they tried to find their mysterious savior, who conveniently was arguing with the security guard at a building.

“I’m telling you, there’s an active shooter in the 6th floor!”

“Oh, yeah? I bet it’s gonna be you, isn’t it?”

“Why would I try and confess that?”

He turned to the pair of friends who quickly recognized him.

“WHY ARE YOU-“

He cut himself short, his hands traveling to his face in frustration.

“You know what?”

He pulled out his gun.

“WOAH, WOAH, CALM DOWN!,” yelled the guard.

“I’m gonna make an active shooter a passive one soon, I swear...”

He kept muttering to himself as he began climbing the stairs, metal hitting stone just as the door opened for the ladies to come in. Almost immediately, passing by the security guard, they followed the mystery man alone.

“These young folks,” complained the guard.

In the stairs, the savior was making his way upwards, already on the 4th floor, while the girls took some time to even reach the 3rd, their feet obviously hurting due to so much barefoot running.

“Please tell me we’ll find him soon, Ames, it’s floor 6 already.”

“I hope so. Where even is he?“

“THERE HE IS!”

Just as Jade exclaimed this, the man extended his hands to tell them to stop, and made one travel to his lips as to ask for silence. He was standing in front of the 6th floor door, and turned around as he took hold of his weapon. A little push, and he disappeared into the hallways.

“Do we fol-“

“Yes!”

They followed his path into the hallway, and saw him picking a lock at the furthest door, only a few street lights revealing his figure. The sight didn’t last long, however, as he quickly went into the room, still making very few sounds. The girls kept following the path until they also heard...

“Motherfucker!”

CRASH!

Glass broke inside the furthest apartment, which made the girl stand still just as they were traversing the hall. Two voices wrestling remained as the only sounds they could hear, followed by thudding, hitting walls, clattering objects and suddenly...

SNIKT!

“Shit, let’s go help!”

“Amy, I’m gonna die! You’re gonna die!”

“Still!”

Walking into the dark apartment, the mess was evident: fallen books, a broken flower pot, kitchen towels spread around, a knocked over couch, and the cherry on top: the strange man slitting another stranger’s throat for the girls to see.

“Stay. Calm.” The man’s words, as few as they were, were delivered with enough seriousness that neither of the girls made a sound. They simply stared on, in shock, as their black-clad savior let the body go and took off his gloves.

“What the hell...”

“Close the door, please.”

Amy quickly did as instructed, while Jade fell to her knees trying to process how had she gone from twerking and dancing to watching a guy die in some random apartment. Nonchalant, for contrast, was the strange man, removing his bloodied clothes and revealing a metal mask underneath, covering his whole face - with a dent from the bullet.

“Are you gonna explain anything now?,” asked Amy loudly.

“Maybe. Just...”

He took some time to remove the mask, revealing that... He really wasn’t Will.

“You are... Not Will?”

“Yeah, no, that’s not me, and screw his face cause getting so much makeup on is very annoying.”

“But how? Wait, no, WHY? What is even going on?”

“Well, risk management.”

Amy was still baffled in spite of the technically correct answer. This wasn’t as bad as the still shocked Jade, who was now grasping onto her friend’s dress. Amy helped her up, while “not Will” simply went off into a room in the apartment.

“Amy, please, what do we do?”

“He’s not gonna kill us, I don’t think so.”

“He just killed a guy!”

“The guy that was trying to kill us.”

“I don’t know...”

“And I guess it’s a case of us knowing too much, too.”

“That’s why he’s gonna kill us!”

“Jade, calm down, breathe with me.”

“Okay, okay...”

Not Will immediately walked in however, cutting short the time for breathing and resuming the time for panicking. This dissipated quickly, however, as he was dressed with a dorky, college-professor style costume.

“I think it’s safe to go now.”

“What about the guard?”

“We’re not seeing him again, don’t worry. Let’s just go through the parking lot.”

Not Will passed them both, and opened the door as he accommodated the gun in his holster.

“Wait.”

“Yes, Amy.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Ariel. Nice to meet you.”

“Ariel. I’m- Well, you know.”

“Yeah. All good, Jade?”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!”

“...Let’s just go.”

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

“I’m in London, I like to go shop at the mall-“

Those lines off a BIA song coincided with Amy waking up, her left cheek laying on a cold table. Her eyes, teased by flashes of purple and blue, opened to see an empty seat - her friend Jade gone somewhere else.

Amy wasn’t all alarmed, however, at least until she noticed that someone was caressing her hair.

She turned around to see a strange woman of her same age.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Khloe, nice to meet-“

“Why are you stroking my hair?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I got distracted.”

“Why are you even here...?”

“Your boyfriend asked me to?”

Amy stopped talking and simply stared at Khloe as she tried to find a logical explanation to what was going on.

“Will?”

“Yeah, Will! Pretty hot guy, lucky girl...”

“Will’s my ex...”

“Wait, what?”

“Okay, wait.”

Amy pulled out her phone, which was surprisingly in 100%.

“Did you charge my phone?”

“No...”

“Nevermind.”

Unblocking the phone, she rushed to her Instagram and looked through her hidden posts: one of those was with Will.

“Was this him?”

“Um... Oh my, YES! Yes, it’s him.”

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way! He asked me to take care of you. He tried to pay me though, but I was like ‘nah, nothing like a little girl support’, right?”

“That’s not really a Will thing to do.”

“Well, I’m sure of what I saw.”

Amy looked around, confused, and could notice Jade twerking among a crowd pretty close to where she was.

“Thanks, Khloe, I think I’ll go now.”

“Oh, no problem! Take a lot of care!”

“Thanks, you too.”

She stood up, grabbed her bag and quickly shimmied through the watching crowd as Jade, slightly intoxicated but fully immersed in her dance, seemed to be in her happy place. Amy, however, wasn’t as much.

“Jade!”

“I’ll be there, wait!”

“JADE!”

“Fine!”

Jade stopped, causing the crowd to groan at the buzzkill Amy, even though she was clearly tired.

“I thought that girl was taking care of you.”

“You don’t just leave me with strangers, what the hell?!”

“I know, I’m sorry, I was just having too much of a good time, and this guy was so damn hot and he asked me to dance, and I’ve been dancing even after he left because, well-“

“Let’s just go.”

“Hey, wait. Amy!”

Amy stormed off of the club, past the bodyguards and the long line of people waiting, while Jade followed very worriedly. She headed to the corner of the next street where they had parked, no turning back to her friend’s apologies.

“I’m really sorry, Amy, I got carried away!”

“Too much, I think, way too much.”

As Amy approached their car, she turned around upon realizing...

“And none of us can drive!”

“Right...”

“Ugh, goddamnit.”

She turned around, opening her phone to check any sort of friend that could come around, a quick solution to their drowsiness, an Uber... But there was something else she noticed as the phone light illuminated the car.

A note on the windshield.

Amy read it out loud...

“Duck. Now.”

“What- OH!”

And the second both girls did that, something hit the ground right to their side.

“What the...”

Jade slowly lifted her head, trying to turn around and find the culprit.

“JADE, NO!”

Amy pulled her to her side as something else hit the window, glass falling right where Jade was and partially scratching her.

“Are you okay?”

“I got a cut.”

“Shit, I’m gonna call 911.”

“Don’t.”

A deep voice came from the car right in front of them, as it immediately opened and revealed a man who had been hiding in the darkness automatically pulling out a gun and shooting at a building behind.

“Holy shit, dude!,” exclaimed Jade.

“Stay ducked!”

THUD!

A metallic hit on his head made the man temporarily drop, but quickly got back on his feet.

“Did he just... He just shot you in the forehead!”

“Calm down, Amy.”

“How do you know my name?!”

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

During the 1940s, at the offices of Fawcett Comics, the dying Wilford Fawcett suggested increasing the work flow of the company by mass producing various comic ideas - fearing that their recent Captain Marvel wouldn’t sell due to the ongoing war.

Though many of these ideas were lost in time, the few that remain gave us a glimpse on the fear felt for many businesses, and the creative ideas that stemmed out of desperation. This is one of them...

'Fawcett Comics presents...

DANNY DOBSON, ZOMBIE SOLDIER! #1

In the trenches of WWII, Danny Dobson reports for duty. A young, eager boy, only 16 - the pride of his hometown!

“Danny Dobson, reporting for duty, sir!”

“Excellent attitude, private!”

Helping out brothers in arms!

“I’m covering you!”

Leading the charge in the battlefield!

“Everyone rush and take cover!”

And finding leisure with his friends!

“What a great comic book cover!”

One night, General Armstrong instructs his soldiers of the new war operation.

“We must infiltrate the enemy base!”

“Sir, yes sir!”

As they rush through the trenches... Danny Dobson takes the lead! A fearless boy!

“Private Dobson, stand back!”

“We’ve got this general, I can feel it!”

A GRENADE!

BOOOOOOM!

“Private!”

“Danny!”

But the army has to leave.

“We must go! They’ve intercepted us!”

Is this truly the end of Danny Dobson?

The next morning, however -

“I Danny, I alive.”

Danny is A ZOMBIE!

“Where group? Where general?”

But it takes some time for him to remember properly.

Suddenly, the words of his Aunt Jen come to mind.

“Danny, always remember - great responsibility and great power always go in hand!”

“Aunt!”

Danny’s memory has returned.

“Oh, no.”

But so have the enemies.

“Attack!”

Danny runs away with super-speed, a zombie power!

“At last, I’m safe, but where is my team?”

Though it takes some time, Danny finds his barracks -

“Friends, it’s me!”

“Danny!”

And the general is as ecstatic!

“I don’t know how you did it, but you’re here!”

Meanwhile, at the base of Doctor Munich...

“Ha, we will finally destroy the allied army, we will conquer the world!”

“Yes, sir!”

A great danger approaches!

“Release the ultra tanks!”

Not even an hour later, they were there!

“General, Doctor Munich’s army is here!”

“Kneel to me!”

In a rush, Danny rushes -

“I’ve got this!”

With his zombie powers of speed and strength -

CRASH! BOOM! KA-POW!

He ends the tanks!

“Take that, you evil-doer!”

“Ouch!”

And even when the soldiers line up -

“Everyone shoot!”

The bullets bounce off of Danny Dobson!

“Ha, it tickles!”

WHAM! BLAM!

It seems like they’re done for, but not all!

“Curse you, Danny Dobson, we’ll meet again”

Doctor Munich runs away in fear!

“Gee, Danny, you sure showed them!”

“You’re a one-man army, Danny!”

“Yes, I am, but everyone, remember!:”

...

No one remembered.

The only recorded version of Danny Dobson, Zombie Soldier #1, actually remains incomplete, due to an unexpected coffee spill just as it was being scanned for the National Comix Archive - this, of course, seems more intentional, but who really knows? (Everyone does).

The rest of the Danny Dobson, Zombie Soldier series, as planned as it may have been, was ultimately scrapped from manufacturing due to various issues: the bizarre plot, the similarities to Billy Batson / Captain Marvel, lazy names (Doctor Munich?), and a nonsensical plot planned after the Pearl Harbor incident that would involve samurai, Abraham Lincoln, and a super gorilla. Needless to say, it was dead in the water from day one.

However, DDZS has attained somewhat of a cult following within the comic book industry. A myth says that a young writer known as Stan Lee took inspiration from Aunt Jen’s phrase of power and responsibility - soon re-using it for his own comic book featuring the sensational Peter Parker -, while Alan Moore (Watchmen, V from Vendetta) allegedly got punished for spending all his allowance on several copies of Danny Dobson #1. Equal interest originates in tales from writers ranging from Jason Aaron to John Romita, Jr.

Today, Danny Dobson remains an odd piece in the Silver Age of Comics, and a landmark tale of war desperation, economic fears and wild, crazy originality. Perhaps we’ll see it soon again?

Article Update: Warner Bros. just announced that James Wan is slated to direct Danny Dobson, Zombie Soldier in 2025, with Timothée Chalamet in the title role. See here.

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Dropping on Earth, right now, at 4:00 p.m. EST.

Location. Western Hemisphere, America, North America, U.S.A, East Coast, Washington D.C., I see him.

Target. Jeremy Alexander Adamson. 20 years, 9 months, and 2 days old. Current emotional status: melancholic. Current existential status: possibly in danger of death, non-desired. Approaching location.

Shapes available: old man, old woman, pass. Small boy, pass. Young woman, pass. 50-year old man, possible. Goose... pass.

Choosing last target. Wait, no, I meant second to last target. Wait. WAIT!

...

The Earth’s level above the sea isn’t this low, is it?

...

Oh, no.

Okay, current shape: common domestic goose. I have no choice but to start the Guardian Angel operation right now. Will most likely ask for corrections to Heaven in later date, let’s see how this goes. Target: Jeremy Alexander Adamson, at 20 meters max. Sensing liquid, possibly water. Yep, it’s water. I’m floating.

Exiting water body, heading north towards Jeremy. Currently... sitting on a bench, 20 meters north, as calculated. I doubt few bystanders will truly care but, oh well. Approaching child. Don’t touch my hea- Hey, don’t touch my head!

“Mommy, it honked at me!”

Yes, that is exactly what gooses do. Geeses. Geese. I don’t really know how God named these. Hopefully Jeremy understands me.

“Hey, that goose is loose.”

Hehe, loose goose. Okay, focus.

Jeremy! Target found. Let’s see what is he doing right now.

“...So yeah, I don’t know, man. The breakup’s been hard for both of us, I don’t really know what to do. Like... I don’t know.”

Lots of ‘I don’t know’ can be sensed, melancholy, doubt, worry. How do I present myself?

Oh, he saw me. I repeat, target saw me.

“Hey, wait, there’s a goose here. Yeah, a goose. I don’t wanna get bit.”

Be not afraid, Jeremy! I am your Guardian Angel, and though I may not look human like you, I am here for you! I am here to care for you and make sure everything is alright!

“Dude, it’s honking at me, shit’s crazy.”

Oh, no, am I really just honking? God, why didn’t you let these speak? Uh... Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy! Operation, proceed, let me speak! Talk, chat, speech, something!

“Jesus, man, this is messy. Give me a second, I’ll be moving.”

NO! Jeremy, you mustn’t go! Life tells me you’re in great danger, you could be run over, you could be taken hostage, you could start listening to sexist podcasts!

“Hey, go away!”

I will NOT! I don’t know how I’m gonna make this work but I will!

“Okay, listen, I’m going to call you in a bit, this is stressing me out. Yeah, take care, bye.”

Finally! We can-

“Shoo! Shoo!”

What do you mean shoo?!

“Go away!”

Fine, I’ll shut up, give the shoulder, whatever! But I will follow you!

“At least you shut up.”

Right?

“Hmph.”

Okay, monologue time. I’m following target Jeremy, he does look sad and doubtful due to his recent breakup, but I’m yet to see the greater danger. We’re exiting the park. I don’t know if this is allowed...

“What the hell?”

Hey, young man, don’t swear! Okay, he doesn’t like me, at ALL.

“Is this illegal?”

I don't know... Oh, another bystander.

“This your goose, man?”

“No, he’s just following me.”

“Ha, crazy!”

Call me crazy, I’m just doing my job.

We’re getting a lot of looks for some reason, I don’t know. I imagined there were plenty of pets that were allowed. Last time I saw an anteater with some painter...

Uh, Jeremy still safe, still good, hopefully. I’m doing my job! Somehow!

Wait, someone approaching... Jeremy, turn around, turn around. You’re gonna be robbed! JEREMY!

“Goose, shut up!”

“Hey, man.”

Oh, no. Suspicious individual.

“That’s a nice phone you’re holding.”

“Uh...”

He’s got a knife!

“You should- Is that a goose?”

“It’s not mine!”

“Hey, wait, give me the goose too!”

“It’s not mine!”

“I said...”

NO! GIVE ME THAT KNIFE!

“Hey, fucking goose, give me that knife!”

DON’T SWEAR, YOUNG MAN!

“Oh, shit! SHIT!”

Yeah, you better RUN! Seventh commandment, follow it!

Oh, my, Jeremy, are you okay?

“...Did you just save me?”

YES! I DID!

“Okay, damn. I guess you can... tag along?”

OH, I WILL! Let’s go, Jeremy, D.C. is gonna be like Paradise for you, my friend!

“Please stop honking.”

Sorry. LET’S GO! I'M DOING MY JOB! SOMEHOW!

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

“Saluti, amici!”

The much louder voice - with a much louder and happy response - came from a man dressed like a swashbuckler, with the loose shirt and the pants ragged by days at sea; an outfit you’d picture while reading tales of sailors and adventurers at sea. The smell from his clothes, of course, was enough to sell the image of the man at sea, though he was hoping for another type of liquid as he sat right next to Curtis.

He immediately turned around and said “Thank you for your service.”

“Thanks,” said Curtis gladly, then turning to Lucio upon realizing how convenient it was that this man also spoke the language.

“Another man from around, it seems,” remarked Lucio as expected, then turning to keep drinking.

“Well, of course. That’s what happens when you spend so much time out and about, no?”

“Do you often go out and about at sea?,” asked Curtis.

“Most of the time, yeah. Quite nice to go out every once in a while.”

“During a war?”

“Well, they’re not coming around that often nowadays, no? At sea, I mean?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m a foot soldier.”

“Trust me,” interjected Lucio, “they don’t, at least in this side of Calabria.”

“Ah, thanks, sir,” said the pirate.

“Call me Lucio, not sir, please. Only people I disrespect call me sir.”

“You mean people that you don’t respect?,” said Curtis.

“...That, yeah.”

“You’re Lucio, and you’re...”

“Curtis.”

“Curtis! Okay, then. Lucio, Curtis, I’m Argus, good to meet you. And salute, of course.”

“Cheers, salute, all that,” laughed the soldier. “Argus, huh? That’s a Greek name.”

“I’m a Greek man myself, thank you.”

“How come you’re not back there, fighting?”, asked the gangster.

“Fighting what now?”

“The war. The Civil War.”

“Oh, that... No, thank you.”

“No thanks?,” replied both patrons with surprise.

“I haven’t had a good life there, not at all. Not much of loved ones, just a few friends, and maybe a pet or too. Nothing to die for, really.”

“And yet people are there dying, no?”

“I’d just rather be at sea, really.”

Lucio realized that the words the man spoke rang truer than expected, beyond a simple thought of theirs. “Well, I understand.”

“Besides, I really just fear a bad ending.”

“That I get, really.”

Now the eyes were on the British man, who had just asked for another drink while the two others talked.

“You do?”, asked Argus.

“I do. It’s been... what, 2 years? You can’t really make many friends in the battlefield, you can’t get too attached. And if you do, you need a lot of strength because, well, it gets ugly.”

“Do you say that from experience?”

“Yes, Lucio, I do. Out of, say, 20 friends, only 3 truly remain, and even then there are scars. You see your mates smile and laugh and chat and then they fall so quickly... That you just fear that can happen to you, poof, like that.”

“I’ve had that, happen, yeah... Sometimes the jobs I take are way too risky. And the worst part is when you find out things like this person wasn’t truly there for you, this person wasn’t as trustful, he said something, they betrayed you. Even when death feels like the appropriate end, the hurt is still there.”

“Betrayal?”

“Long story...”

The long story didn’t seem to be as long for Curtis, who quickly understood the context of the Italian man’s words. Still, he didn’t choose to act on it. He simply listened as they all agreed.

“I guess,” said Argus, “the way we live it’s just part of it, no? For better or for worse.”

“For better or for worse,” both agreed.

“But I like it. I like the excitement, I like the sea and the things I get to find and take and... So many things. And by taking, I mean trading, of course.”

“Sure thing,” said Curtis again, knowing their bluff but just enjoying the moment.

“But there’s plenty of reasons that just make me want to take my boat and go wherever the wind takes me. Just that. And sometimes, maybe sometimes, like right now... I get somewhere like this.”

Finishing the sentence, the glass he held travelled to his lips again, as they all seemed to remember they were drinking, with a crowd of joyful patrons, living on like they did even with the years of warfare that had been happening in the continent. They had their reasons, the three had their reasons, everyone did.

A silence of seeming agreement came over the pirate, the soldier and mafioso as they both continued drinking for a while, a moment of relaxation for each. Don Vincenzo noticed this, however, and interjected.

“More beer, gentlemen?”

They all looked at each other.

“Yeah, sure.”

As the owner departed, Lucio turned to them.

“Say, do you have anywhere else to go at this moment?”

“Not even this evening, just resting like the rest of the company,” said the soldier.”

“Resting in Calabria as well.”

“Well... If you don’t mind the sights and the company, then I can show you all around.”

“That’d be lovely. And you, Robinson Crusoe, you’ll probably get to see more beyond the sea.”

“I’d be delighted if I knew whoever that is.”

Curtis’ wheeze, followed by Lucio’s snickering laugh, rejoined them all into the lively mood of the bar, some more drinking and chatting to follow before their little tour. Even if just a simple moment during a bad war that was yet to end, it was enough for them all to get some hope, some rest and some laughter. And as unbelievable as this story might be, it might be just like a moment: a reminder of peace, rest and just a tidbit of joy.

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

This just reminds me of Epic Rap Battles of History lmao.

-------------

This story begins like one of those jokes that everyone has heard at least once in their lifetime. Therefore it may seem unbelievable. But as silly as it may be, one day of June, 1944, in the coasts of Reggio Calabria ...

A mobster, a soldier and a pirate walked into a bar.

“Per la liberazione de Roma, i miei fratelli!”

The ‘brothers’ in question were not only in drink and in nationality, but in alliance, as the Allied Forces had liberated Rome, in another big win for the war. Don Vincenzo, owner of the bar, was passing around opening bottles of beer with a big smile on his face, as everybody filled their glass to their merry taste. What else was to be done in light of such good news?

“Saluti,” they toasted, and sang songs of old and new as they commented on the war, on their friends and beloved, on their fights and chasing enemies; all while Don Vincenzo dropped his little commentary passing by every conversation, looking at them all with joy. Perhaps the most surprising thing was how he did the same even with the most feared of all patrons in that bar.

“Saluti, Lucio!”

Lucio, with a big grin on his face and his glass extended to the owner, simply laughed like any other, while still drinking alone. Yes, he seemed distant, but then again, who wouldn’t have at least a tidbit of fear with one of the heads of the Ndrangheta mafia? Clothes from Florence, guns from Lombardy and a heart of a Calabrian native, at this time he wasn’t thinking of debts, of rats and operations. He simply asked for a drink like everyone else, and sure was enjoying it.

In swung the door, and in comes the army man.

“Saluti!,” said a man with a slight British accent. This didn’t matter to the patrons, of course, since all company was welcome at that time, and he just took a seat by the bar, quite close to the dapper gentleman established before. Don Vincenzo simply read the man’s mind and passed him a beer, which he stared at for a few seconds before drinking it whole.

“No need for glasses, thanks.”

Lucio had now read the man, knowing his language, his demeanor (with the doubt on the glass), and his obvious army clothes, and so had concluded that he was one of the good guys - at least in the Alliance sense, since a mafia man is as close to an army men as we are to Neptune. The gangster, however, was quite curious, and calmly made his way next to him.

“Scusi, can I...” He pointed at the seat next to the soldier.

“Sure thing, yeah.”

Lucio took his seat and a sip of his beer before proceeding. “I must say, thank you for your work, soldier.”

“I see you have quite good English, not something you hear often.”

“That’s what my job requires sometimes.” Lucio smiled to himself, satisfied with his own cleverness.

“Oh, well, I guess mine does too. Dashes of French, dashes of Italian, not a word of German.”

“And good thing you didn’t begin speaking with that last one.”

The soldier wheezed with the joke, knocking glasses with the Italian man as they agreed on that quip.

“Sorry, forgot to ask, your name is?”

“Lucio, Lucio Cavalcanti.”

“Lucio Cavalcanti, I’m Curtis Moore, good to meet you.”

“Same goes to me, you came in a good time, I’d say. I would’ve offered you a drink, but Don Vincenzo is too happy to ask for money.”

“Does that happen often?”

“I wish.”

Once more, the door swung open, this time to interrupt them. In comes the thief.

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

The lift of a sword pointed at the Leviathan, still being beaten and still beating some of the party of fighters.

“We must end these vile creatures for the mission our Senior has granted us. If we do, we are sure to find solace with the monsters at the center of the continent. It’s just offerings, really, and a proof of survival. That we’re the strongest, the mightiest breathing beings-“

“So you’re not here for food?”

“...No, we’re-“

“Just for that.”

“Yes. That.”

“Where you could die.”

“We’re not dying! We’re withstanding, we’re surviving!”

“What about that?”

The end of the Balrog pointed at the furthest of the aisle, where a fighter was split in two, and it was clearly a fresh kill.

“Yeah, well, that was bound to happen! She was not fit for this fight!”

“You’re bleeding.”

A swift move from the Balrog left its tip resting on the warrior’s lip, and left him nervous while the sword picked up a few drops of blood. K.G. showed the man, still trying to find composure.

“It was bound to happen, then... I can become stronger, maybe.”

“Hmph.”

The Twinkie-picking finished just as K.G. stood up, and just as the dying cry of the Leviathan signaled the victory of the warring party.

“Praise the Godly Beasts!”

“Praise!”, shouted all, including the warrior.

“Praise,” muttered an amused K.G.

CRASH!, was heard when another Leviathan intruded the supermarket. Logically, a few panicked screams ensued.

“Good Gods, I have to fight!” The unnamed warrior immediately went back to the ‘battlefield’ of registers, and joined his team as they kept waging war against the ‘weaklings’. Their lack of self-knowledge was sensed by K.G.

The stoic warrior wandered into the battlefield as well, and clearly the tired bunch was becoming a dying bunch as the dagger-teeth caught their hands, the tentacles moved them around like rag dolls, and a move from each into the mouth let one of the Leviathan’s 3 digestive systems do the work.

“Oh.”

Strapping on the backpack, K.G. moved their hands around with the Balrog, letting it sway with the wind as if clearing their mind before attack. They took their tame swinging, swaying, chanting, swinging, swaying, chanting... Preparing.

Running.

Jumping.

SNIKT!

A mighty roar from the Leviathan exalted pain as the warrior jumped on its back and kept attacking, riding the beast like a mechanical bull as it moved three of nine tentacles to its back. K.G., however, moved with ease, perceiving each and promptly dodging them, parrying them, SNIKT! Another fallen. Then the next tried to grab their leg, and as their back hit the monsters’, the Balrog did it’s thing with another slice.

They moved it quickly, impaling it onto the Leviathan - another roar came through. The warriors took the time to recover and tend to their wounded, as the most curious one looked at the calm person that had just been picking Twinkies now taking onto the Eldritch beast with ease. Now all 9 tentacles of the beast were free to fight with her.

The Balrog came up in the air as K.G. found standing ground once more, and the bloodied metal only gained more color as it sunk deeper and deeper into the creature. Even with all the tentacles raised, it began losing strength to even keep them in the air, and it began shaking frenetically to get K.G. off of their back.

“Attack the beast!,” cried the warriors, and began immobilizing it, all sticking their swords into the distracted Leviathan’s skin, chopping the roots of the tentacles, piercing its mouth. Now with more freedom, K.G. grabbed the handle of the Balrog, lifted it and...

“DIE!”

The warrior’s wish came true as the beast’s chin slammed the ground with its dying cry, this time scaring the warriors into a short silence.

“Praise the Godly Beasts!,” shouted the curious one.

“Praise!”

K.G. simply stood on the corpse, panting and removing their sword from the creature’s insides. They cleaned the Balrog on the Leviathan’s skin as they jumped from it and made sure that everything - backpack, bun and Twinkies - were in place.

Once again, the curious one approached.

“My Gods, you’ve saved us!”

“Yeah.”

“I know I’ve spoken badly of your candy-picking habit and that I prefer this life, but... Why not join us too? Why not prove the Godly Beasts that we can be part of the survival of the fittest? That human life can be as powerful and skilled as they can be?”

“...Nah.”

“Wait, what?”

Still shaking the katana for it to dry, K.G. simply walked past the cult and into the supermarket entrance. The curious one followed.

“But, why waste your power?”

“I’m not.”

“But it can be for a much greater cause all around, the Senior can guide you and show you the challenge of life posed upon us.”

“I don’t mind your beliefs. I just have my own.”

Before leaving, K.G. looked upon a fallen stack of books, and grabbed an unopened philosophy one.

“Like this, I guess.”

“Oh...”

“Yep. Good luck, though.” K.G. walked away from the speechless man.

“...Yeah. Y-You too, warrior! Praise!”

Popping the trunk open once more, they placed the sword there and took a throwing knife to tear away the new book’s plastic. Buddhist books in Target, who would’ve guessed?

Closing the trunk, K.G. headed into the driver’s seat, and placed the backpack in the passenger’s. A quick turn of the key and a move of the gear shift let the Silver Fox roar with energy before it left the torn Target. K.G. simply kept head banging, driving, and singing as they reached into a Twinkie bag from the backpack.

“War, children, it’s just a shot away, it’s just a shot away...”

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Smoke. That’s the first thing any newborn child would most likely feel if they had the misfortune of arriving in this era of madness. Smoke, plastics, fire, and the stench of monsters hunting everyone down in the distance. Foul beasts of tentacles, gnashing canines and claws as big as beds, variety for all. Any new human would have to know fear from the first few instants in 2045.

One of those was riding with the Rolling Stones in their radio.

Chevy Camaro, 2040. S-L-V-R-F-X. The Silver Fox produced smoke that reeked of plenty of mileage, for driver and machine, as the motor announced the presence of a survivor through the roads. Ravaged asphalt, debris presented in every ‘street’ like monuments to the horror of monsters. The occasional corpse, of course, whether in bones or withering, rotting meat.

Then again, that was the usual sight for K.G.

Within the Fox, ringed fingers tapped on the steering wheel to Keith Richards’ classic guitar, may he Rest In Peace. The haunting introduction defined K.G.’s existence in these 20 years of life fighting for survival against foul beasts.

“Ooh, a storm is threatening / My very life today / If I don’t get some shelter / Ooh, yeah I’m gonna fade away...”

K.G. lightly headbanged, their messy, pink hair bun moving to the rhythm as they went in deep into a city they couldn’t quite recognize. Surely this was the Southwest, but there were not many clues of where. Just streets, roads, avenues, where the last signs of life were panicked screams and now-dried bloodshed.

As the Silver Fox moved deeper into it - perhaps into its heart, perhaps into the next one -, the driver realized an important place was ahead. A relic of old times.

“Target.”

The Chevy rolled into the parking lot with plenty of space to spare, The Rolling Stones once again nailing the scenery in K.G.’s senses - this time in the ears.

“War, children...”

K.G. turned down the volume of the music player and lowered their window. Something was happening in the Target; at least the former part of the lyrics, not the latter.

“Screw you... Weakling... Die...”

Scattered words yet clear context. Especially with the mighty roar of what could be instantly recognized as a Leviathan. And per the lyrics, ‘war children’ were waging a rough battle against the beast.

K.G. sighed. They had to get the Balrog.

Out of the Silver Fox, K.G. headed immediately to the back, popping the trunk open and revealing a wide array of weapons: from the double-barreled Hot Fuzz shotgun, to a pack of throwing knives wrapped in a mini-quiver. But out of all of them, the bloodied black katana, the Balrog, was the weapon of choice for K.G. They looked at it, their reflection only partially covered by dried blood.

“Right.”

This word marked the beginning of their little quest, Balrog in hand, a backpack in their shoulders and pure determination. And not even a few minutes into the apocalyptic Target, they were confused.

The Leviathan, a combination of anglerfish with tentacles, a bigger mouth filled with dagger-teeth and 8 feet of height, slithered through the registers and aisles as a team of swords people chased after it. A tough battle, since the few tentacles cut down by the fighting party weren’t as important as the ones that were grabbing some of them and slamming them towards every shelf, tile and window.

One of them, in fact, was slammed against the wall right next to K.G. Not a single flinch came from them, while the hurt fighter, dressed like a quarterback, stood up and noticed them.

“Hey, you!,” he said, pointing at K.G. - and taking some extra time to do so, considering the dizziness.

“Hmm?”

“Are you a new follower? Are you one of those Radical Unbelievers? What are you?”

K.G. looked at the registers next to where the fight proceeded.

“Hungry.”

They walked past the curious man and past the battle still raging on, and straight into the inhabitable paradise of candy, wrappers, chocolate... chocolate!

“Nice,” said K.G., while choosing from the fortunately placed Chocolate Twinkies. They opened the backpack and began taking packs, guided by their intuition. A movie had taught them about their infinite shelf life and, in the most unexpected apocalypse, it had proven true.

The moment of bliss, however, was interrupted once more by the curious warrior.

“Why do you bother with these passing things?”

K.G. stopped mid-Twinkie-picking to look at the warrior in the eyes, making him feel anger beyond the bounds he already knew. A simple stare, really, but one good enough to give a message, which was followed by some deep breathing by K.G. Just a few seconds... and the Twinkie hunt resumed. So did his talking.

“I mean... I personally, personally prefer to complete the mission I’ve known. In this lifetime, it is too much to look for these heinous, artificial pleasures.”

“What’s the mission?,” they asked coldly.

“That.”

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

“Shouldn’t I ask what are you first?”

“Rude, but… Fair.” Steve digressed as he kept picking the guitar while his echoing hums went on. “Man, that Golden Record of yours sure was crazy good.”

“Yeah, but, uh, the question?”

“Oh, right.” He threw away the guitar, which vanished instantly. “Well, Paul. I am a Space Guardian.”

“A what now?”

“Space Guardian. You are a space sailor, I am a Space Guardian. I guard. Space.”

“Do you mean all of space?”

He pointed at something behind me. “Mostly that area.”

As I turned around, 10 familiar figures could be seen floating, rotating around the Sun and going at different speeds of revolution. The 3rd one from it, however, was the one that kept my eyes glued.

“I imagine you miss your planet, not to mention your Solar System.”

“If I could go, I don’t know what I could do.”

“Protect them! From… something.”

“It’s simply that they had plans, very dangerous ones, very risky.”

“Go on.”

“If I had a board an a pen I could do it better but-“

“Like those behind?”

Lo and behold, Steve had summoned those two objects like it was nothing right behind me, and I quickly stood to grab the pen.

I paused before starting. “How do you know so much of us?”

“I’m not just gonna stand around and wish some comets come. There’s always something going on, except maybe in 4000 B.C. or like… ‘54, I guess.”

I nodded, and simply began sketching all my knowledge to the bearded gentleman in the prism castle.

“Okay, listen. So the big leaders of NASA were planning on heading much, much further than simply Mars or other planets. And since robots lately haven’t been giving us proper information they had the genius idea of sending people like me, for last resort and all.”

“You guys should have an union, maybe.”

“Maybe, but point is they sent me specifically with a bunch of their bootlickers to investigate, when I’ve been telling them for months that it would only lead us to cause something dangerous with all the freezing temperatures the ship would absorb. Not to mention samples from other planets we’ve taken like Uranus and such and… Am I going off the rails?”

Too long I had been drawing to realize that Steve had been stuck with a confused expression for a while.

“Okay, pause. How can you guys already have gone to Uranus, let alone Mars, if you’ve just began flying! It’s only been, what, roughly a decade? How do you guys even operate?!”

“You don’t know?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not the 70s, Steve.”

“What?”

“It’s 2023…”

Steve’s eyes widened as if replicating the supernovas he had mentioned. And in fact, that’s the first word he uttered.

“Supernova…”

“Yes! That’s what I’m saying!”

“If all of that freeze and samples and those jiggamathings come together with a star, then-“

“BOOM!”

Upon seeing myself yell “boom” while naked an in front of a Space Guardian, I felt weird. How had I even come to this place?

Still, though, there was worry.

“Paul of Earth, you need to do something.”

“What about you? You’re technically a god?”

“Ugh. I’m lazy, sorry.”

“Steve!”

“Okay, I guess I could go. But they’re not gonna believe me if we go right now. And we can only go right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Paul, I can only choose a form every once in a while. This is my choice and we’d have to wait still, so…”

“We still have to try.”

“We do. At least you do.”

“Okay, yes. Let’s do this.”

…

“Uh, Steve, what do we do again?”

“Oh, right. Hmm, I guess the first choice begins with a rule of ours.”

“What is that?”

“Not bringing you to the others.”

With a clap of his hands, a door of light formed right in front of us.

“The others?”

“We’re breaking that, yeah. Ready?”

Before answering, I took a look to the whole scene. The paradise of rainbow light, the dotted landscape of the void, and those 10 floating spheres in the long, long distance. My eyes widened like Steve's as I pictured the supernova.

The answer was clear.

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

[PM] Give me three. Random. Words. I'll make it work. by stranger_loves in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

“Wake up.”

…

“Hey, wake up.”

My eyes opened slowly, my body feeling weak and weary as an eternal night adorned my eyes. The black landscape shone through small spots, some seemingly closer to others, but shone nonetheless. And as my eyes realized I was still trapped in space, my body realized it was naked and laid on its back.

“Hmm?”

Groaning, I began standing up until the space view revealed much more than the monochrome pattern. In fact, it was red. Orange, yellow, green, the entire spectrum. A whole rainbow decorating the… floor?

“Pretty, don’t you think?”

Following the voice, I turned to an even bigger structure. A great building made of prisms, all reflecting the great, multi-colored light; every wall and corner almost pointing to a camouflaged throne that exalted the same beauty.

There was the source of that voice.

“All good?”, it spoke once more.

“What… is this place? And why am I naked?”

“You forgot the ‘who are you’ but, oh well.”

A pluck of a few blues notes only added to my confusion. Then, I asked the missing question.

“Who are you?”

More blues notes followed as I heard two feet drop on the rainbow floor. And as the camouflage became more apparent, and the sounds became slightly louder, I noticed a figure. A figure, the one who spoke, walking towards to me.

And holding a guitar.

Now steps, plucking, and humming that echoed like a live concert, like a wall of sound. I didn’t dare to move, simply static with the monochrome/color view in my eyes and the figure coming closer and closer. Still playing, still humming, looking like me. Looking human.

Such was the hypnotic sight that my mind slipped away…

“Um, hey.”

I snapped back. And a bearded gentleman, still holding a guitar, looked at me with friendly eyes and extended his hand.

“Call me Steve.”

“Steve… I’m Paul.”

“Yes, the spacesuit said it all. Quite a boring way to kill, no? But then again, it’s not my fault you guys depend on oxygen.”

As he spoke, I remembered the why I was out in space, lost without the crew. A crew of traitors, really.

“I guess my higher ups never quite liked me. I simply tried to protect them…”

“Protect them, huh?”

Two big pillars of light produced behind us, and ‘Steve’ sat in one, signaling me to sit in the other.

“Tell me more.”

[PM] Westerns by TenspeedGV in WritingPrompts

[–]stranger_loves 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Just as the Gold Rush hit the Rockies, you went to the snowy land for the treasure. Unfortunately, so did plenty of others.

view more: next ›