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SF's "Write Your Butt Off" II - Return of Writer's Block

Rapier

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SF's Write Your Butt Off! II Votals  

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  1. 1. Which submission will you vote for?

    • "The Heart of Dedication"
      0
    • "The Strength Within"
      5
    • "Simply a Hunter"
      0
    • "One More Time"
      3
    • "Perfected"
      2
    • "No One Is Iredeemable"
      0
    • "Going Forward"
      1

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  • Poll closed on 03/09/2019 at 10:00 PM

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Shoblongoo Newbie

Shoblongoo

Posted
Posted (edited)

Here it is--the prompt was so open ended I wasn't entirely sure how to approach it, but I think this is somewhere in the ballpark of a responsive piece.

...I made a thing...

TITLE:  Folly
FANDOM: Tellius
WORD COUNT: 1,910
 

 

 

Folly

“Mercy is on The Goddess’s terms, not on ours, but we must receive it. Beorc and Laguz are holy in the eyes of the Goddess; equal in value and in dignity. If it is mortal folly to deny it, The Goddess delights in showing mercy to the fool. We have all sinned and deserve The Goddess’s judgment! Yet She alone who has lived a sinless life is infinitely merciful and gracious to Her enemies. This is the first work of the Goddess.” (The Gospel of Lehran; 6:23-27)

______

 

Deep beneath the bowels of Manail Cathedral in a nondescript library, a single candle burned amongst the dusty collection of sealed scrolls and ancient tomes. All had retired to their bed chambers at an hour befitting of the pampered and the indolent, laying to rest head’s untroubled by unanswered questions and weighty thoughts.  

All but one.

“The hour is late. Come now—to bed with you.” Sephiran instructed his charge.  

“….”  No response, but the turning of pages and flicker of candlelight.

“We’ll continue your studies come the morrow. That’s quite enough for one…”

“…What do you suppose Lehran meant when he said The Goddess delights in showing mercy to the fool?” Sanaki asked unexpectedly, taking the holy man aback.  

“What did Lehran mean when he said—Oh. I see.” Sephiran was given pause when he saw what she was reading. “It was so long ago. Who could say?”

Sanaki pouted, clearly unsatisfied with this answer.

“Perhaps,” Sephiran sighed. “Perhaps he meant to suggest that the purest form of divine love is forgiveness and compassion for those who have wronged us. That to that end The Goddess forebears the punishments we rightfully deserve, that we may live by her example.”

“Yes. I thought as much.” Sanaki reflected. For a while she said nothing. Then hesitantly she asked: “Do you believe this?”

“Do I—” No. Not Anymore. Simple words. Easy words. And yet they would not come to him.

“Speak truthfully,” Sanaki ordered, seeing Sephiran’s reticence to speak his mind. “Your Empress commands it.”

“Truthfully,” Sephiran considered. “Truthfully—if the Goddess gave us the punishment we rightfully deserved, all would return to the dust from which she raised us. She does not. Is that mercy? Folly? Lehran did not know. I do not know. Only The Goddess knows.”

“But the Goddess wants us to know,” Sanaki brought forth a second tome. “She spoke of it. Here it is again in Dighensea 2:14-18”

“Dighensea 2:14-18? I’m not familiar with that one.” Sephiran read from the apocryphal texts.

 

“The Goddess delights in showing mercy to the fool. Yet those who refuse the Goddess’s mercy receive Her judgment. Many are the reasons why men do evil, and many are the sins that the Goddess in Her goodness will forgive. Lo, the one truly unforgivable sin is refusal of the Goddess’s mercy. There is nothing less merciful than mercy for he who has done the unforgivable; for it is a crime against the Order on which the very fundaments of mercy are laid.”

“Oh dear. Empress—I fear you may be misinterpreting the scriptures.” 

“Explain.” Sanaki soured.

“Firstly, I don’t think the Goddess ever said anything of the sort,” Sephiran had more than mere suspicion that she had not. “These were men who walked amongst the Goddess whose understanding is perfect, speaking to others what they had imperfectly understood themselves and giving their own misconceptions as her dicta. It is known that all the Goddess says and does is right and that there can be no inconsistency in her word. Yet these passages are inconsistent. Yes—there is some facial similarities in their phrasing. But Lehran’s account says mercy is the Goddess’s first work and that the Goddess is infinitely merciful. Dighensea's account says the Goddess’s first work is ORDER. If mercy exists it is only because Order exists, and to those who would defy her Order the Goddess is merciless. Both cannot be correct. So neither can be the True Word of the Goddess.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“You’re wrong.” Sanaki decided.

“Oh?” Such a stubborn girl—what foolishness is this. “How so?”    

“The accounts do not contradict.” Sanaki gave her interpretation. “When Lehran speaks of the fool to whom the Goddess shows her mercy, he is speaking of those who cling to hatreds between Beorc and Laguz. He is speaking ONLY of those who cling to hatreds between Beorc and Laguz. He is not speaking of other evils that men do. Here he wants us to know only that those hatreds are wrong and that they displease the Goddess. And something else: he wants us to know what we should do about it. What the Goddess would do about it. The Goddess wouldn’t judge the whole world even if we all deserved it—not for this. She wants us to understand her truth that Beorc and Laguz are equal in dignity and in value and be better than the haters. She wants us to grow into something she doesn’t have to judge or punish. That is why the Goddess stays her judgment. That is why the Goddess is merciful and commands those under Her grace to be merciful. Even now…when we least deserve it...”

“Perhaps so,” Sephiran said, bemusedly. “Perhaps that was a message that Lehran wished to leave for prosperity, so very long ago.”  Was I wrong? “Tell me then. What of Dighensea?”       

 

“He agrees with Lehran when he says ‘The Goddess delights in showing mercy to the fool.’” Sanaki began. “Here again he speaks only of that one evil of hatred between Beorc and Laguz—what Lehran calls The Mortal Folly. Where Lehran and Dighensea speak of the same thing, they have the same idea. But then Dighensea speaks of something that Lehran never spoke about. The evil of ‘refusing the Goddess’s mercy.’ He calls this the one unforgivable sin. If Lehran tells us that mercy is how the Goddess directs us to grow and become better than the haters…”

“…then refusing the Goddess’s mercy means never growing. Never breaking the cycle of hatred. Making the same mistakes over and over again. THAT is the unforgivable sin for which there can be no mercy—the sin for which The Goddess will cast down her judgment upon the world,” Sephiran finished. “Lehran would not dispute it. I stand corrected, Empress. It would appear your understanding is beyond reproach.”

Sanaki stared at the pages grimly. Sephiran’s endorsement of her interpretation doing nothing to assuage the doubts which plagued her.

“Empress?” Sephiran asked of her. “What troubles you?”     

A pregnant pause followed. Until finally…

“When does mercy end and the unforgivable begin?” Sanaki gave voice to her deepest fear. “Its been 800 years. How many times can we keep making the same mistake?”

“…” Sephiran had no words. Where to begin?

…What to say…

…What was better left unsaid…

…What could never be said at all…

Dare he speak his truth? No. Not from me. She won’t hear it from me.

He knew right then and there: his resolve would buckle and his will would break, and he would not do the thing which must be done if she had to hear it from him.

“Every Apostle could hear the voice of The Goddess. Until that night twenty years ago. Until…me….”

“…” Oh bless your sweet innocent heart.

“We are under judgment. How could we not be? Is it done?” Sanaki had to know. “Is there still time to change the road we’re on?”

“…Perhaps…” Sephiran chose his words carefully. “…Perhaps it is not the answer that matters, but the reason for the question.” It was all he could offer in the way of clarity. “Why now do you seek guidance?”

“The mercenary boy returned from his mission with news. Unexpected news.” Sanaki confided in her closest advisor something she had not yet told another breathing soul. “Among Duke Oliver’s slaves. There was a heron.”

“…Impossible...” I would have known. I would have felt it.

“A prince among herons. A Serenes Royal.”

“Empress—that simply cannot be. There were no survivors.”

“What if there were?” Sanaki asked. “What if one of the Goddess’s songbirds yet lives? One who knew the full horror of that night? One who could grant The Goddess’s mercy, or deny it?”

“…”

“…”
“…”

“…”

“What if he did?” Sephiran asked, finally. “At this point, what difference does it make?”

“No difference. Or all the difference in the world.”  Sanaki recited now from memory. “A sin atoned for on Earth shall not be judged in Heaven.” Altina; 13:21-22.

Noooo…She can’t  possibly mean to… “You have made a decision then, Empress...” Sephiran knew that verse well enough, and what it signified. “…without consulting me.”

“…Sephiran…”

You idiot child!  You interloper! You FOOL! You who are blameless and hath done no wrong—how dare you sacrifice yourself to save those irredeemable wretches!  “You—will not be dissuaded?”

“I will not.” Sanaki  affirmed. “I will find the heron prince, throw myself at his mercy, and accept his judgment as though it were Her own. ”

“And?” Sephiran asked. “If he kills you?”

“Then that is the Goddess’s will in the matter—the extinguishment of Altina’s bloodline for the genocide of the herons.” Sanaki was at peace with it. “May it be enough to stay Her judgment.”

Imbecile. The judgment is upon us and cannot be stayed. You throw your life away for nothing. “You know I cannot allow this.”

“If you stop me I’ll never forgive you,” Sanaki yawned a deep yawn—the weight of words spoken aloud lifting the burden of troubled thoughts, and putting her mind to ease. At long last she succumbed to the weariness suppressed in searching for her answers, and fell into a drifting sleep.

It was Sephiran’s turn now—carrying her off to bed—to be troubled by deep and bothersome thoughts.

Soon. She is to perish with the rest on The Day of Reckoning.  It is of no consequence. He reminded himself, not for the first time.

What did it matter now how she threw her life away?

What did it matter if she still believed that her actions had consequence—that her choices had meaning?

It didn’t .

It couldn’t.

What then was this nameless upwelling inside of him? Why did the thought of her taking up this burden as her own torment him so?

Because it was HIS burden?

Because she was blameless?

Was this the trappings of fatherly affection?

Because—he was in the wrong???  Madness. We are service. We are witness. We do that which should be done.

“Mmmm. Maybe I’ll say I’m sorry and he’ll forgive me,” Sanaki murmured in half-sleep, scarcely aware of what she was saying.

“Maybe so, Empress.” Sephiran tucked her beneath her covers.

“He shouldn’t.” It was her last lucid thought before sleep overtook her entirely. “But maybe he will…because…that’s what  She would do…” 

For a while Sephiran said nothing—only watched her sleep.

Is it done? The words burned into psyche and echoed in his brain. Is there still time to change the road we’re on?

It was but a fleeting moment of introspection. As quickly as it had come it passed; Sephiran’s heart hardened, and he banished the thought, and then it was as though it had never been at all.  

His faith was the cornerstone of a promise unfulfilled. Surely it was not so weak a thing that a child’s folly would sway him.



 

Edited by Shoblongoo
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SoulWeaver Contributor

SoulWeaver

Posted
Posted
On 12/18/2018 at 11:03 PM, Shoblongoo said:

Here it is--the prompt was so open ended I wasn't entirely sure how to approach it, but I think this is somewhere in the ballpark of a responsive piece.

...I made a thing...

TITLE:  Folly
FANDOM: Tellius
WORD COUNT: 1,910
 

  Reveal hidden contents

 

Folly

“Mercy is on The Goddess’s terms, not on ours, but we must receive it. Beorc and Laguz are holy in the eyes of the Goddess; equal in value and in dignity. If it is mortal folly to deny it, The Goddess delights in showing mercy to the fool. We have all sinned and deserve The Goddess’s judgment! Yet She alone who has lived a sinless life is infinitely merciful and gracious to Her enemies. This is the first work of the Goddess.” (The Gospel of Lehran; 6:23-27)

______

 

Deep beneath the bowels of Manail Cathedral in a nondescript library, a single candle burned amongst the dusty collection of sealed scrolls and ancient tomes. All had retired to their bed chambers at an hour befitting of the pampered and the indolent, laying to rest head’s untroubled by unanswered questions and weighty thoughts.  

All but one.

“The hour is late. Come now—to bed with you.” Sephiran instructed his charge.  

“….”  No response, but the turning of pages and flicker of candlelight.

“We’ll continue your studies come the morrow. That’s quite enough for one…”

“…What do you suppose Lehran meant when he said The Goddess delights in showing mercy to the fool?” Sanaki asked unexpectedly, taking the holy man aback.  

“What did Lehran mean when he said—Oh. I see.” Sephiran was given pause when he saw what she was reading. “It was so long ago. Who could say?”

Sanaki pouted, clearly unsatisfied with this answer.

“Perhaps,” Sephiran sighed. “Perhaps he meant to suggest that the purest form of divine love is forgiveness and compassion for those who have wronged us. That to that end The Goddess forebears the punishments we rightfully deserve, that we may live by her example.”

“Yes. I thought as much.” Sanaki reflected. For a while she said nothing. Then hesitantly she asked: “Do you believe this?”

“Do I—” No. Not Anymore. Simple words. Easy words. And yet they would not come to him.

“Speak truthfully,” Sanaki ordered, seeing Sephiran’s reticence to speak his mind. “Your Empress commands it.”

“Truthfully,” Sephiran considered. “Truthfully—if the Goddess gave us the punishment we rightfully deserved, all would return to the dust from which she raised us. She does not. Is that mercy? Folly? Lehran did not know. I do not know. Only The Goddess knows.”

“But the Goddess wants us to know,” Sanaki brought forth a second tome. “She spoke of it. Here it is again in Dighensea 2:14-18”

“Dighensea 2:14-18? I’m not familiar with that one.” Sephiran read from the apocryphal texts.

 

“The Goddess delights in showing mercy to the fool. Yet those who refuse the Goddess’s mercy receive Her judgment. Many are the reasons why men do evil, and many are the sins that the Goddess in Her goodness will forgive. Lo, the one truly unforgivable sin is refusal of the Goddess’s mercy. There is nothing less merciful than mercy for he who has done the unforgivable; for it is a crime against the Order on which the very fundaments of mercy are laid.”

“Oh dear. Empress—I fear you may be misinterpreting the scriptures.” 

“Explain.” Sanaki soured.

“Firstly, I don’t think the Goddess ever said anything of the sort,” Sephiran had more than mere suspicion that she had not. “These were men who walked amongst the Goddess whose understanding is perfect, speaking to others what they had imperfectly understood themselves and giving their own misconceptions as her dicta. It is known that all the Goddess says and does is right and that there can be no inconsistency in her word. Yet these passages are inconsistent. Yes—there is some facial similarities in their phrasing. But Lehran’s account says mercy is the Goddess’s first work and that the Goddess is infinitely merciful. Dighensea account says the Goddess’s first work is ORDER. If mercy exists it is only because Order exists, and to those who would defy her Order the Goddess is merciless. Both cannot be correct. So neither can be the True Word of the Goddess.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“You’re wrong.” Sanaki decided.

“Oh?” Such a stubborn girl—what foolishness is this. “How so?”    

“The accounts do not contradict.” Sanaki gave her interpretation. “When Lehran speaks of the fool to whom the Goddess shows her mercy, he is speaking of those who cling to hatreds between Beorc and Laguz. He is speaking ONLY of those who cling to hatreds between Beorc and Laguz. He is not speaking of other evils that men do. Here he wants us to know only that those hatreds are wrong and that they displease the Goddess. And something else: he wants us to know what we should do about it. What the Goddess would do about it. The Goddess wouldn’t judge the whole world even if we all deserved it—not for this. She wants us to understand her truth that Beorc and Laguz are equal in dignity and in value and be better than the haters. She wants us to grow into something she doesn’t have to judge or punish. That is why the Goddess stays her judgment. That is why the Goddess is merciful and commands those under Her grace to be merciful. Even now…when we least deserve it...”

“Perhaps so,” Sephiran said, bemusedly. “Perhaps that was a message that Lehran wished to leave for prosperity, so very long ago.”  Was I wrong? “Tell me then. What of Dighensea?”       

 

“He agrees with Lehran when he says ‘The Goddess delights in showing mercy to the fool.’” Sanaki began. “Here again he speaks only of that one evil of hatred between Beorc and Laguz—what Lehran calls The Mortal Folly. Where Lehran and Dighensea speak of the same thing, they have the same idea. But then Dighensea speaks of something that Lehran never spoke about. The evil of ‘refusing the Goddess’s mercy.’ He calls this the one unforgivable sin. If Lehran tells us that mercy is how the Goddess directs us to grow and become better than the haters…”

“…then refusing the Goddess’s mercy means never growing. Never breaking the cycle of hatred. Making the same mistakes over and over again. THAT is the unforgivable sin for which there can be no mercy—the sin for which The Goddess will cast down her judgment upon the world,” Sephiran finished. “Lehran would not dispute it. I stand corrected, Empress. It would appear your understanding is beyond reproach.”

Sanaki stared at the pages grimly. Sephiran’s endorsement of her interpretation doing nothing to assuage the doubts which plagued her.

“Empress?” Sephiran asked of her. “What troubles you?”     

A pregnant pause followed. Until finally…

“When does mercy end and the unforgivable begin?” Sanaki gave voice to her deepest fear. “Its been 800 years. How many times can we keep making the same mistake?”

“…” Sephiran had no words. Where to begin?

…What to say…

…What was better left unsaid…

…What could never be said at all…

Dare he speak his truth? No. Not from me. She won’t hear it from me.

He knew right then and there: his resolve would buckle and his will would break, and he would not do the thing which must be done if she had to hear it from him.

“Every Apostle could hear the voice of The Goddess. Until that night twenty years ago. Until…me….”

“…” Oh bless your sweet innocent heart.

“We are under judgment. How could we not be? Is it done?” Sanaki had to know. “Is there still time to change the road we’re on?”

“…Perhaps…” Sephiran chose his words carefully. “…Perhaps it is not the answer that matters, but the reason for the question.” It was all he could offer in the way of clarity. “Why now do you seek guidance?”

“The mercenary boy returned from his mission with news. Unexpected news.” Sanaki confided in her closest advisor something she had not yet told another breathing soul. “Among Duke Oliver’s slaves. There was a heron.”

“…Impossible...” I would have known. I would have felt it.

“A prince among herons. A Serenes Royal.”

“Empress—that simply cannot be. There were no survivors.”

“What if there were?” Sanaki asked. “What if one of the Goddess’s songbirds yet lives? One who knew the full horror of that night? One who could grant The Goddess’s mercy, or deny it?”

“…”

“…”
“…”

“…”

“What if he did?” Sephiran asked, finally. “At this point, what difference does it make?”

“No difference. Or all the difference in the world.”  Sanaki recited now from memory. “A sin atoned for on Earth shall not be judged in Heaven.” Altina; 13:21-22.

Noooo…She can’t  possibly mean to… “You have made a decision then, Empress...” Sephiran knew that verse well enough, and what it signified. “…without consulting me.”

“…Sephiran…”

You idiot child!  You interloper! You FOOL! You who are blameless and hath done no wrong—how dare you sacrifice yourself to save those irredeemable wretches!  “You—will not be dissuaded?”

“I will not.” Sanaki  affirmed. “I will find the heron prince, throw myself at his mercy, and accept his judgment as though it were Her own. ”

“And?” Sephiran asked. “If he kills you?”

“Then that is the Goddess’s will in the matter—the extinguishment of Altina’s bloodline for the genocide of the herons.” Sanaki was at peace with it. “May it be enough to stay Her judgment.”

Imbecile. The judgment is upon us and cannot be stayed. You throw your life away for nothing. “You know I cannot allow this.”

“If you stop me I’ll never forgive you,” Sanaki yawned a deep yawn—the weight of words spoken aloud lifting the burden of troubled thoughts, and putting her mind to ease. At long last she succumbed to the weariness suppressed in searching for her answers, and fell into a drifting sleep.

It was Sephiran’s turn now—carrying her off to bed—to be troubled by deep and bothersome thoughts.

Soon. She is to perish with the rest on The Day of Reckoning.  It is of no consequence. He reminded himself, not for the first time.

What did it matter now how she threw her life away?

What did it matter if she still believed that her actions had consequence—that her choices had meaning?

It didn’t .

It couldn’t.

What then was this nameless upwelling inside of him? Why did the thought of her taking up this burden as her own torment him so?

Because it was HIS burden?

Because she was blameless?

Was this the trappings of fatherly affection?

Because—he was in the wrong???  Madness. We are service. We are witness. We do that which should be done.

“Mmmm. Maybe I’ll say I’m sorry and he’ll forgive me,” Sanaki murmured in half-sleep, scarcely aware of what she was saying.

“Maybe so, Empress.” Sephiran tucked her beneath her covers.

“He shouldn’t.” It was her last lucid thought before sleep overtook her entirely. “But maybe he will…because…that’s what  She would do…” 

For a while Sephiran said nothing—only watched her sleep.

Is it done? The words burned into psyche and echoed in his brain. Is there still time to change the road we’re on?

It was but a fleeting moment of introspection. As quickly as it had come it passed; Sephiran’s heart hardened, and he banished the thought, and then it was as though it had never been at all.  

His faith was the cornerstone of a promise unfulfilled. Surely it was not so weak a thing that a child’s folly would sway him.


 

Spoiler

A curious and intriguing piece, to be sure. Having never played Tellius and acting only with the basic knowledge of Sanaki I obtained from Tap Quotes and the LV40 Conversation in Heroes, she checks out just fine - very intelligent for her age, yet still a child in an adult's shoes, with all the insecurities involved therein. As someone who only knew about the storyline of Tellius due to looking it up a couple months ago, though, Sephiran seems a bit awkward - you appear to either expect the reader to know about the lategame RD story development before reading, or else wish to make the reader wonder what exactly Sephiran is doing behind his Empress' back. The 'Day of Reckoning' line is especially suspicious as it almost carries a traitorous feel to anyone who didn't know exactly what he was talking about.
Overall, it looks solid, though personally it was also a little awkward for me as I'm not used to seeing people use the scriptural form of writing. Also, I think it's spelled 'Deghinsea' not 'Dighensea' so that's awkward.

 

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Farina's Pegasus Newbie

Farina's Pegasus

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Posted

Alright, this is probably my last chance to be online for more than ten minutes at a time until at least Christmas Eve, so I'm going to be posting my work now. Not quite as polished as I would have liked but I enjoyed writing it very much and it did push me a bit out of my comfort zone, so that's most important.

Title: How I Met Trent Rockefeller
Type: Original Fiction; First person POV
Word Count: 3932

Spoiler

I was supposed to be home. I was supposed to be sitting on my bed, with my three closest friends next to me, demanding stories from the two weeks I’d just spent in the hamlet of Rosewood, across the continent, population one hundred and eighty-seven.

 

Instead, I was standing in a telephone booth outside the train station of Preston- population nine thousand, seven hundred. Crime capital of this side of the continent. Last spring, on a disarmingly warm evening, a twenty-five-year-old woman had been found dead in the basement of her home, and no culprit had been arrested yet.

 

But I didn’t have to go that far back to drive up my heart rate- about fifty feet outside, visible from a small and grimy window, there was a man, smoking. Every time I looked out of it to see if he was gone yet, I shrank away when he lifted his head.

 

“Are you serious, Rain? No free hotel or anything?”

 

The friend I was speaking to, Artemis, was a born champion of complaints, so I understood that her anger wasn’t aimed at me. I almost smiled at the thought of her penning an email to the train service. Your slow service and bad management of scheduling made my friend get stranded in a poverty-stricken, criminal-filled town for twelve hours, which need I remind you, was the site of a recent brutal- No, don’t think about that, Rain.

 

“Yeah, that’s how it happened,” I sighed, looking for the tenth time that hour at the clock ticking away on the station wall. The long-distance phone card my mom had slipped me at the last minute wasn’t anything I’d expected to use.

 

“If they would’ve known we had to stop, I would’ve been fine staying in Rosewood all night.”

 

“I’d feel a lot safer with you there, that’s for sure. But I don’t think I need to tell you to be careful, Rain. Can you get a room tonight?”

 

“I don’t think so. Actually, Artemis I was wondering if you’d be able to lend me some for the night. I can pay you back as soon as I’m home.”

 

Artemis was silent, which I hadn’t expected. Even though it was ten below outside and I don’t think the station was heated well, I could feel sweat under my palms.

 

“I mean, I can, Rain, but it takes up to twenty-four hours for the payment to go through, cause our bank’s a piece of shit.”

 

“I can’t be here that long,” I interrupted, as if Artemis didn’t know that. What if that man was still there once I left the station?

 

“I know, I know. Hold on, I’ll try to see if there’s any faster way.”

 

I waited in agony as Artemis searched for options. I could imagine her huddled on the couch with her cheap laptop, scanning the bank webpage for a solution.

 

“Okay, well, the best thing I can find right now… I’ll give you my card number, you go to the bank and ask them if you can get cash taken out for this account. I’ve got at least a thousand, so help yourself. Hire a bodyguard.”

 

We both laughed, but I knew instinctively that had no chance of working. I’m Rain Redfield, five-foot-nine, with short hair that’s bleached white, brown eyes and (probably the reason why so many stare) a distinctly feminine figure, shall I say. Artemis is shorter, black-haired, skinnier and used to be mistaken for a boy so much that she took pleasure in fooling people back in our high school days.

 

“Would be worth a shot, I guess, if identity theft wasn’t a crime.”

 

I sighed, realizing now that I hadn’t eaten since I finished my snacks on the train. Eating at a restaurant would consume my savings- and that’s if I didn’t get ugly looks from not tipping. I think the last time I ate out was the one and only time I had a dinner date with a woman I liked.

 

“Well, damn,” Artemis’ voice broke into my thoughts, “Hmmm. Hang on to your savings, then, and look around for somewhere to stay. Someplace might accept a payment late if you explain what happened. But you’re gonna be okay, Rain. I know you’ll be. You’re the smartest and most mature woman I’ve ever met. Apart from your mother, of course, no offense.”

 

“None taken,” I smiled in spite of myself. “If only her and Dad hadn’t chosen to take a vacation right after I did. Even if it wouldn’t take them until tomorrow to find out how to send me money.”

 

As much as I loved my mom and dad, they had both been in their early forties when I was adopted, and their knowledge of Generation Z technology was limited. Growing, but I did have to teach my mother how to find her contacts when I bought her a touch-screen phone for her birthday.

 

“Sure thing. Also, my advice?” Artemis dropped her voice a little, as if afraid that someone was eavesdropping.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“You know Bianca, Shannon’s girlfriend? She grew up in Preston, so she’s got some experience. Here’s what she told me- don’t use the public bathrooms, except the ones in the mall. Dirty and dangerous. Do whatever you possibly can to avoid being on the streets at night, and if you can’t avoid that, stay awayfrom the alleys and cul-de-sacs. Do not talk to anyone who might be under the influence. Follow the streetlights and keep your phone on you at all times. In your purse, not your pack, or it might freeze. How cold is it there?”

 

“Uh…” Dumbfounded, I pulled out my phone and struggled to reach the temperature widget, “Minus ten?”

 

“That’s not too bad then. But you should head to a bank ASAP, Rain, most of them close at five. Do you have something to write-”

 

“Already do, I need your number.”

 

I really didn’t expect this scheme to work, but it was the only option I could think of. If I couldn’t get cash, I had nowhere to go for the night. My only hope was finding Bianca’s home and hope that her parents would take in a virtual stranger, but I didn’t even know Bianca. She might know my name, that was it.

 

“Let me know how it works out, okay?” Artemis’ voice broke into my grim thoughts. “Keep in touch, Rain. Really. I’m gonna start worrying if I don’t hear from you by eight or so.”

 

“I’ll be okay, Artemis.”

 

I heard the hang-up tone after a very long five seconds. I pocketed my phone after texting Artemis that I was on my way, but stopped in the station’s doorway. The man from before was still staring at me.

 

-

 

He didn’t bother me, but his eyes were on me like I was an exotic animal. I walked briskly along the crumbling sidewalk, almost ran, really, staying with Artemis’ directive of not venturing outside of the streetlights. It was barely five, and the sun was low in a sky growing darker.

 

If I was familiar with Preston, I would’ve kept my head down and indulged in daydreams. Now, I had to be on hyper-alert- even though I was wearing a coat of genuine fox fur (one of several heartfelt gifts from the folks at Rosewood) I shuddered every time someone looked my way. Poverty was everywhere. I could see it in the battered, rattling cars that screamed past me, and in the myriad of grocery stores with cracked windows and flickering lights.

 

Thankfully, at the end of the road I reached what I believed was a bank, nestled on the corner of a four-way intersection. The two-story building was much cleaner than the others, with nary a dirt stain to be seen, but I saw a cluster of dishevelled street people huddled in a broken line by the entrance.

 

As I got closer I saw that most of them were older men, but there was also a tall, black-haired woman who scowled at me as I walked past. She was talking to a man who looked like he could still be in high school; he looked much cleaner than anyone I’d seen so far. Although I was a bit curious, I wasn’t about to stick around.

 

I would’ve been heartened to have escaped without incident, if the bank didn’t have 6 PM as its Monday closing time. The customer service lady looked a bit less polished than what I was used to. If she hadn’t been wearing a nametag (Marlene) I might’ve assumed she was a customer or a trainee- her hair looked a bit untidy for a banker. But her smile was friendly as she asked, “What can I do for you?”

 

“Well, I need to take out some money,” I began, and all of a sudden my throat seemed to close up.

 

“Okay, do you have your card with you?”

 

Marlene seemed to understand that I didn’t have enough to spare to have the ATM charge. I dug into my purse and handed Marlene the item.

 

“You’ve got thirty-nine dollars available right now from both accounts, miss Redfield. Would you like all of it?”

 

“Yes, please,” I answered, my voice sounding like I was a chain smoker. “I’m not from here, and my train had to make a stop here. Equipment failure. I need something to see if I can stay in a hotel.”

 

Marlene’s smile faded a little. “My goodness, that’s the third time this year, it’s a wonder the trains here even get business. But I don’t think anywhere in town charges that low, dear. The least expensive one I know is Seven Stars Hotel, and I believe they charge fifty dollars a night.”

 

My heart sank so low I think my blood pressure dropped ten points. I resolved not to dissolve into a panic attack, and asked Marcella in a voice embarrassingly close to a whisper, “Is there- would they possibly accept late payments?”

 

“I’m not certain of that, dear,” Marlene sounded like she felt sorry for me, but I doubted she was ready to let a perfect stranger stay at her place for the night, “do you have any family or friends you could spend a night with, Rain?”

 

Well, my friend’s girlfriend’s parents might have a vacant couch. I decided to lie, too embarrassed to tell the truth.

 

“Yeah, I’d hate to intrude on someone, but I guess I could stay with a friend I’ve got here. Thanks, anyway.”

 

“You’re welcome, dear. Stay inside tonight, it can get very cold here.”

 

-

 

I don’t think my situation could have been worse. Here I was, completely alone, almost penniless, in the worst place in the world to be that I knew of. My only hope of escape was if the train tomorrow would arrive on schedule.

 

But once I’d returned to the streets, my vague worries about knowing what to do next evaporated faster than my breath in the air. I hadn’t even gotten out of the bank’s entranceway before a grimy hand clapped on my shoulder.

 

“’Ey. Miss. How’re you on this fine evening?”

 

I didn’t look behind me. I could hear the phlegm in the man’s throat and smell stale alcohol on him. The dark-haired girl from earlier was visible out of the corner of my eye, scowling at me like I was one of the piles of rotting newsprint on a rusted stand. When she exhaled cigarette smoke, I saw that she was missing a few yellowed teeth.

 

I brushed away the stranger’s hand without a word and kept walking, somehow managing not to speak. I’d been harassed in the city before and that method had worked to keep me safe, but there had only been one stranger back then.

 

“Ey, ey, where you goin’?I’m talkin’ to ya. It’s rude to ignore someone.”

 

Then up ahead of me, I saw another man silhouetted against the now-almost-night sky, his breath rising in clouds around him. The same one I had seen on the station. I was sure of it. I couldn’t run ahead or behind.

 

I’d never been so scared in my entire life. The only refuge I knew was the station. I ran like a loosed wild dog past the man outside the bank, ignoring the pain in my legs and how each breath came harder than the last. Not looking back, I didn’t stop until my feet caught an ice slick. My legs shot out from underneath me like a newborn fawn, and I collapsed on the concrete.

 

“Oh god, are you okay?”

 

Every muscle in my body tensed again as my head jerked up, and saw another stranger. It was the younger man I’d seen earlier. I knew that this stranger had just as much power to hurt me as the men behind me (who I hoped with all I was that they would leave me alone) but something about him told me that he wasn’t like them. He was younger, much more so, not a lot older than me, and offered me his hand to help me regain my feet.

 

“I… I don’t think I broke anything…”

 

“Does it hurt too much to walk?” the young man asked, and I took a few steps to test his theory. My hip felt like it was broken at first, but the pain faded as quickly as it came.

 

“No, I’ll be alright.”

 

“Good, let’s go, then. I know them-” he motioned vaguely behind him- “they’re beggars and creeps. Been here for years. They usually sit outside the bank or the mall and harass anyone unfortunate enough to be alone.”

 

I nodded, and added in a soft voice, “Thanks for… helping me, sir.”

 

“Trent. You can call me that.”

 

Trent offered me his hand, and my fear came creeping back. I didn’t take it, but I did ask, “Do you know where the Seven Stars Hotel is? And- I’m Rain.”

 

Trent nodded, his smile getting a bit wider. He motioned for me to follow him as he started walking again, and I noticed he moved slower than a man his height would normally walk.

 

“I won’t tease you about that name, I’m sure you get it a lot. It’s a couple miles, I can drive you there, if you like.”

 

“Er-”

 

Yes, I did get teased about my name so often that I’d contemplated changing it, but getting into a vehicle with a stranger? I’m not that stupid. Trent seemed to sense that, since he looked around him a few times, then motioned for me to come closer and spoke in a low whisper.

 

“You know, Rain, I used to live here for twenty years. I know it’s dangerous. I moved back here last year, because I knew the city needs one more good person in it. With my siblings all moved out, there’s almost no one left. It’s gotten worse, a lot worse, especially if you’re young or alone. So I’m not about to let a decent person wander alone, not at night and especially not in the winter.”

 

I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely convinced, but what other choice did I have? I couldn’t stay out here in the cold, not without losing an ear. I probably could have asked a police officer to do this same favor for me, but that would have involved more wandering. Still, I was hesitant as Trent crunched over the frozen grass of his driveway and opened the door of a well-polished car.

 

“How long of a drive is it?” I asked Trent as I pulled the seatbelt over my shoulder, grateful for the warmth.

 

“Just ten minutes or so. Mind you, people here drive like they’re on a minute deadline most of the time. Did you know that there were twelve separate crashes within a mile of the high school last year? It’s insane.”

 

The car rolled slowly along the road, as Trent was careful to avoid icy patches. I eventually found the nerve to ask the question that had been lingering in my mind. There were a few more cars on the road now, and from one of them, a teenage boy had his head hanging out the window as he bellowed a loud, boisterous threat at us. At least I assumed it was a threat.

 

“I need to know, Trent, why are you doing this for me? I mean, you only know my name, really.”

 

Trent waited to answer until we were past the next traffic lights. His answer was slow and thoughtful, as if he were trying to remember something faint.

 

“Because, Rain… Like I said, I grew up here. And when it’s every man for himself, when you can’t go anywhere alone if you want to be safe, I had to help people. Even strangers. I gave rides to students whose parents didn’t have cars, I started up a leftovers program where you’d put food you didn’t want to eat and someone else would take it. It’s kindness, simple good things like that, that made this town just a little bit better. And as bad as it is, as bad as it might get… it will always be my home.

But more than that… Because I never knew who I might need to rely on one day. One day, who knows, one day I might be alone in a city for a night because I have a flight delayed, just like you did.”

 

I was silent for the rest of the ride, thinking of Trent’s sentiment. I certainly didn’t like everything about the sprawling metropolis, or the suburbs I’d grown up in. But if I’d never lived there, I never would have known Artemis, for one thing, and she alone made all the noise, pollution and overcrowding worth it.

 

“Alright, we’re here.”

 

Trent pulled up at the Seven Star’s almost-full parking lot, and then I remembered I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

 

“Er, well…”

 

I hesitated, wondering if I was pushing my luck.

 

“Yes?” Trent said, prompting me with his usual smile.

 

“I… I don’t think I have enough money to pay for a full night. I know it’s a lot to ask, but, is there any way I could pay you back once I get home? I’m asking a friend to come pick me up as soon as she can.”

 

“Oh, no. You don’t need to do that.”

 

Trent shook his head, and like so many times that day, I felt all the blood drain from my face. Then I realized he was referring to something else.

 

“But… I should pay you back, somehow,” I persisted, following him through the winding parking lot and shrinking away when a tied-up dog barked at us from afar. I could see ribs through its matted fur, and I had to resist the urge to get closer. Trent held open the door and I once again relaxed in the presence of heat.

 

“No charge, Rain. I’ll pay for you tonight. And you know what, if your friend doesn’t turn up, just give me a ring and I’ll let you stay as long as you need.”

 

Hardly able to believe Trent’s generosity, we traded numbers in the lobby, behind a long line. The clerk (much younger than Marlene) looked a bit distressed as she glanced up and saw at least a dozen more clients to check in.

 

Eventually, I was shown a small room, with the bare necessities to be called a hotel. There was a bed, a cupboard and a small TV on a dresser drawer that looked like it hadn’t been used since I was born. At least there was a telephone on the table. As I went to it, Trent stood in the doorway and looked almost sad.

 

“Well, I’ll see you around, Rain. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

 

I’m not the hugging type when it comes to strangers, but what Trent had done for me elevated him up on the scale from “unknown” to “definite ally”.

 

“You too, Trent. You’ve pretty much saved my life. I promise I’ll help you out again someday.”

 

We held the embrace for maybe half a minute, then Trent pulled away and nodded. His eyes stayed closed for a few seconds, as if he were suddenly shy.

 

“If you’re ever here again, you know where I am.”

 

I couldn’t imagine ever coming back to this terrible place, but the thought of never seeing Trent again did make me a little sad. I hung by the doorway as he walked away, and a few minutes later, watched his car pull cautiously out of the lot and disappear into the evening.

 

I sat on my bed for the night, waiting for Artemis to tell me where to meet her in the morning. To hell with the train- you know you’ve got good friends when they’ll drive twelve hours to pick you up. Or when they’ll be your only ally in the most dangerous city on the continent.

 

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Rafiel's Aria Newbie

Rafiel's Aria

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Managed to finish a submission as well. I ended up not going with my original idea because I was too worried people wouldn't get how it worked with the theme. I'm still not confident about this one, and I think it may be a little too weird, but whatever. lol I write weird stuff. 

Title: Another Beginning
Fandom: Original Setting
Word Count: 2694

Spoiler

 

The world had ended thrice already, but the mortals didn’t know that. Perhaps they would have tried harder to make their lives meaningful if they had known they were being watched and judged at all times.

The Master had said they wouldn’t be given a fourth chance...and yet...

Death watched a child struggle to climb a massive tree, both skinny arms wrapped around either side of the weathered trunk but barely managing to grasp even half of the circumference of it. He would jump up a few feet, as high as he could likely manage, and cling to the ancient giant for a few seconds, screaming back at Death that he had finally done it, before sliding back down to the ground to hop about on his toes in a futile attempt to soothe his bare, calloused feet on the dewy grass.

The boy didn’t have a name, mostly because Death had never named him. He had only ever needed to address his master as “Master” and his sister as “Sister.” But mortals loved to label things; however, he hadn’t known any intimately enough to understand the process of labeling something with sentience beyond its relationship to another or its purpose in life.

Whore.

Bastard.

Monster.

The boy wasn’t any of those things. In all actuality, he wasn’t anything at all. Purposeless, useless, helpless… He couldn’t scavenge food for himself or even climb a tree it seemed, but he lived. He had done nothing to deserve this life.

The boy jumped onto the tree again, and this time one of his feet must have found a proper hold because instead of sinking back down he remained plastered to the trunk, his hands, feet, and cheeks all raw and red from scraping against the bark. The color of his irises shifted from a wild flame to a dull, fading ash as he thought through his situation and tilted his gaze up just enough to pine for the the shiny, red apples overhead.

“Now what?” Death asked. He picked himself up from his spot under the shade of a pear tree in bloom, to stretch his claws out so they barely reached into a patch of sunlight. As he arched his back and flexed his hind legs, every bone along his spine to the tip of his tail seemed to crack and groan. He winced, tossing back his head, tempted to retreat once more into a gentle slumber.

“Can I have a lift?” The boy’s skinny arms and legs were starting to tremble. For just a fraction of a second, he released his grip on the tree with his right hand as if to reach up higher but changed his mind and returned to his desperate clinging. “Please?”

“Why not ask for the apple?” The beast padded forward, lingering in the sun so its warmth would soak into his amber fur. He purred contentedly, a reflex he would abhor had he not been so grateful for the heat.

“Would you honor that request? A-Ah…” The boy started to slip but before his foot could return to the ground, Death had nuzzled his snout underneath the boy’s foot.

“No. I don’t have that power anymore. And I want to watch you suffer.”

The boy laughed, his giggle a bit like a squirrel’s chittering. He put all of his weight onto Death’s face and reached up towards the sky, eyes still set on the apple hanging above. Death followed him, claws digging into the trunk of the tree as he stretched the length of his body to accommodate the boy’s ascent. His neck strained the last few feet as the boy lingered merely watching the fruit with flickering violet eyes.

“Grab it,” Death hissed through jagged teeth.

“Will it come back if I take it?”

“That one won’t. Another will.” The boy’s foot slid down from his nose into his eye, and this time Death growled. “Take it.”

The boy shifted again so he stood on his toes, but his fingertips barely brushed the skin of the fruit. Death felt him crouch down, yelping as a second foot in his eye blinded him. He realized only when the boy’s weight had left his face entirely what he was doing. Death’s eyes flashed red as he watched the boy fly. It was just a second, but as his stubby fingers wrapped around the apple and tugged it free from its tether, he might as well have been a bird or an angel. And then he was plummeting back to earth.

Instinctively, Death’s tail lashed out and caught the boy around his torso, squeezing tightly until he squeaked. The boy grinned back at him, his smile missing several teeth. After crawling back down so all four paws were on the ground, Death returned to his spot under the pear tree and unceremoniously dropped the boy into a bush.

“Stupid, stupid creature,” he growled before curling back up into a ball.

The boy emerged from the bush laughing so hard that his sunburned cheeks had started to turn purple. His eyes were so bright now that Death couldn’t even look at his face, and yet...he longed for that warmth again. The boy’s nest of auburn hair now sported several additional twigs and leaves which he didn’t bother to pick out as he scrambled towards Death once more. He plopped down before him and rested his back against the beast’s heaving chest. Death watched as he struggled to lift a paw across his body before lifting the limb himself to tuck the child closer against him.

Now comfortable, the boy lifted the apple up to examine it properly and frowned. “So I killed it?”

“It would have died eventually. Everything dies.”

“Will I die?”

“Of course.”

“...will you die?”

The beast snorted a puff of steam from its nostrils, sending loose leaves flying from the boy’s hair. “I do not know.”

“But you said-”

“I’m not ‘everything.’ I don’t know what I am.” He leaned his head down so it rested at the boy’s side, and the child ran his fingers through patches of silky fur and scars where fur would never grow again, lingering over the bald patches with a gentle kiss before scratching around his pointed ears.

“I hope you’re everything,” the boy admitted. He started to gnaw at the apple with the side of his mouth that didn’t have any missing teeth. Juice dribbled down his cheek, and the boy caught it with the sleeve of his shirt before it could drip onto Death’s head. “You’ll be lonely if everything else’s gone.”

“You’ll be lonely…”

Death frowned picking his head up enough to meet the boy’s flickering gaze with his own. He didn’t mean for the gesture to mean anything; he didn’t even know what he was looking for, but he realized his error when the boy tilted his head in confusion and reached out to pat his nose with sticky fingers.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Death returned his head to the ground, teeth clenched in an attempt to keep himself from saying something too telling. “That’s simply not the first time I’ve heard someone say that.”

“Was it my mother who said it first?” The beast closed his eyes, only cracking them open when he felt the boy knocking on his skull. “It’s always about my mother when you act strangely. You’ve never spoken to me about anyone else.”

“She wasn’t your mother,” Death growled. “You don’t have a mother, simply a beginning.”

“But there was a girl at my beginning, right? You said she made me. So she must have been my mother. And that would mean you’re-”

“Mortals can’t make other mortals. Only my Master can. And I had no part in your creation either. No willing part at least. If I had my way, you would have burned with the rest of the world. I would kill you now if I could.”

“Why don’t you?” The boy rested his head on top of the beast’s, a warmth pulsing from the boy’s sticky cheek into the top of his skull. The fires of condemnation, the screams of the wicked and innocent alike, even the fragrance of ash and smoke danced across Death’s memory from the touch alone. He should have felt fulfilled; he had completed his task after all.

But then there was the fragrance of the apple juice on the boy and the blossoms of the pear tree, the coolness of the shade, and the softness of the grass cushioning his ravaged body. “Because you stole my power. Somehow my Master deemed a child and a mortal fit to take my place.”

The boy was silent, an oddity, Death thought, but usually a welcomed one. The boy hadn’t made an attempt to leave, but the slowness of his breathing and the stillness of his frame bothered him. “Boy?”

“Things will die...because of me?” The apple had fallen from his lap and rolled in front of the beast’s gaze. He reached out his free paw and toyed with it for a few seconds before stretching up to snort another blast of hot air at the boy, eliciting another toothless grin.

“Yes.” No use in hiding that fact. “Generations and generations of things will die for centuries or millennia. And eventually you’ll see that each creature that dies deserves it whether they’ve fulfilled their purpose and have nothing left to give or they’ve done something truly despicable. Perhaps my master will usher more creatures into this world. But eventually, they’ll fail as well.”

He thought about the girl, the one the boy seemed to deem “mother” without ever having known what a “mother” could have been. She had been a disgusting creature, even by his standards. Somehow his Master had cursed her with a body so twisted and hunched and bloated that she resembled a frog more than a mortal. Her teeth had grown in crooked. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets even when she wasn’t afraid.  Her captors had called her a “sin.”

“You’re thinking about her. Tell me the story. I think I’m supposed to hear it.”

Death’s eyes darted towards the boy. The gentle glow of his irises had returned to a comfortable, thoughtful gold. For just a moment, he wasn’t a child or even a mortal; he was a god, gazing down at something he loved unconditionally, and that was enough to send a shiver down the beast’s spine. His natural reflex was to refuse the boy’s request. Even mentioning that girl once had awakened an insatiable curiosity he hadn’t been prepared to feed. But there was something intoxicating about the way the boy’s fingers stroked his scars.

“They brought her to me,” Death started. He straightened up, tugging the boy against his chest so he could feel the gentle rhythm of his heart against the pulsating of his own soul fire, what remained of it at least. “I’m not sure how old she was. Humans all look the same to me once they reach maturity, but they called her a girl. She must have been young.”

The boy twisted his skinny frame around so he could rest his cheek on the beast’s shoulder, eyes closed as he hummed in thought. “‘They’ were the others? The survivors?”

“The ones who hadn’t perished in my fires yet. It was my turn to end humanity while my sister slept. It took me several mortal years to carry my flames around the world, and by time I reached the final stronghold, the survivors thought they had figured out why they were being punished, how they could fix it.”

Heroes. That’s what they called themselves because they were strong or lucky enough to survive until the end. But that didn’t make them better than the rest. No. In most cases it made them desperate and depraved; some wanted to protect others but most were more afraid of meeting Death themselves. Every one of them wanted to be the last to die.

“Were they right? No…” The boy frowned, a gesture that aged him a few years. “If they were right, they would be here.”

“Correct. They brought that girl to me, claimed she was all that remained of the royal family. They assumed she was the mistake that brought down my Master’s wrath because ugliness equated sin. They had stripped her of what little dignity she had and beaten her until she no longer had tears to shed. They assumed she was the worst of what humanity had left to offer.”

“...they were very wrong.” The boy yawned, wrapping his arms around Death’s neck. “I bet she was scared. Did you kill her quickly?”

Perhaps that would have been better. Perhaps not. “No. I killed the others first. I let her watch and listen. I let her captors die thinking I would spare what they assumed would be their own redemption. I let their stronghold burn and burn until the world was quiet for the first time in millennia. Except for her breath.”

“You’ll be lonely when I die…”

“When you die, I’ll sleep. I always sleep until my Master needs me.”

“Papa never needed me. He forgot. Left me in the basement. But he gave me a friend. I can make you one too.”

The boy giggled, his voice muffled against Death’s chest. “And then she made me.”

“No, you stupid creature,” Death purred. He craned his neck down and ran his tongue through the boy’s wild hair in an attempt to clean out the remaining twigs and leaves only to find that the taste was a bit too repulsive, even by his standards. “She gave me a pathetic piece of paper folded to look like...a bear.”

“What’s a bear?”

“Do you want me to finish the story or not?”

“Yeah….”

Death sighed. “She expired soon after. Perhaps from the smoke or my fires or whatever her captors had done to her before. Her body was unsightly, so I left it to burn because ash is...beautiful, and such a pathetic creature deserved some sort of beauty even in death. But the bear didn’t burn. I never thought about it much because soon after she perished, I slept. Like I always did… Until someone awakened me with his incessant talking.”

The boy lifted his face to grin straight up at Death, eyes beaming with a white fire this time. “But the bear is gone, right? Am I a bear?”

“No. I don’t know what became of that trinket.” The boy attempted to lift the beast’s lips into a grin with his own two hands even after Death opened his jaws and playfully threatened to snap them around the boy’s fingers. “Now, you’re Death. I see my fire in your eyes. Either my Master is punishing a failure or rewarding hard work, but whatever the case is, you have dominion, and use it only to pluck fruit from the trees. And I’m damned for whatever remains of my existence to watch your stupidity.”

“I’ll never let you die!” The boy placed his hands over Death’s ears so they flattened against his skull. “I’ll never let anything die!”

That isn’t how Death works, Child. “I’m at your mercy it seems.” The beast chuckled.

The boy started to babble about bears, what he assumed to be small, round creatures that he hoped were the color of the sky and warm like the sun. They floated down streams because he enjoyed the water, so they most enjoy it as well, and they could grow as large as a mountain. Someday he’d be like a mountain but he wouldn’t be quite as quiet. No. He’d sing from dawn until dusk and then through the night so his realm was never quiet. His musings continued uninterrupted until the sun started to fall down the horizon, and once it had disappeared entirely, the world was silent, except for the boy’s breathing.

Death shivered again. Usually, he slept through the silence, the loneliness, awake only to experience the End. Never the Beginning.

The boy snored rolling over in his sleep until his head rested against the beast’s paw. A tiny hand reached out and wrapped around one of the twisted claws, still sticky from the apple.

The Beginning was beautiful.

 

Author's Notes:

Spoiler

This is actually an origin story type thing for the same world my previous entry was written in. I don't usually spend a lot of time working on lore, so this was a little outside of my comfort zone. It's weird like I said before, but it's something I want to explore a little more. In this world, one of the countries called Esma Glait has a history that's slightly different from the rest of the world because members of the royal family have possessed a strange power for as long as they can remember. They have a strong spiritual connection with their gods and fully believe that there is very little keeping the world from ending. They also believe that their first ancestor was a boy their god crafted from a paper bear left as an offering to Death by the last survivor of humanity. 

I probably could have written something longer and more detailed and really hammered in some lore, but I mostly wanted to write a kind of fluffy yet kind of thinky piece that didn't feel like a history lesson. I hope it's a little less...vague than last time, and I also hope it fits the theme better since I think those were two of my bigger weaknesses last time.

 

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Sire Newbie

Sire

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Regrettably, I will not be able to finish my submission on time, so I'll be pulling out. A lot of things ended up happening that disrupted my writing schedule, and I have to be in a specific frame of mind in order to write properly.

Best of luck to those who enter!

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Ottservia Newbie

Ottservia

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Well between finals and busy holiday preparation, I don't think I'll be able to get this done on time. Shame I had a decent idea but after fiddling around with it for a couple days, I can't just seem to get it to work. Honestly it needs more time to stew.

Also I meant to say this waay earlier but I forgot but it's nice to see you back @Anacybele

Edited by Otts486
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DarthR0xas Newbie

DarthR0xas

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Yeah, I probably won't be able to make it in time. Although I still have five hours, and I've written decent stories in less time than that so we'll see (but yeah probably not, got a ton of new games I want to play, gotta love Steam sales).

Edited by DarthR0xas
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DarthR0xas

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Oh gods, barely pulled this off. It's not quite correctly formatted but I'll fix that in a second. Yeah, the ending is rushed and kinda sucks, but hey, continuing the tradition.

Title: The Requiem of a Sith

Fandom: Star Wars

Word Count: 1241

Spoiler

A cloaked figure struts into a circular room, with a variety of chairs, all cushioned with a red material the man could never figure out the specificity of around a circle of Jedi symbols. Behind those chairs were dozens of young children, cowering in fear over the noise erupting from outside the room.

One of the children, a young blonde boy, dressed in tan robes slowly looks up, and then walks out, saying “Master Skywalker, there are too many of them, what are we going to do?”

Wordlessly, Anakin Skywalker, hatred burning in his eyes, unhooked his lightsaber and turned it on. Its blue blade slowly Assuming his usual Ataru stance, Anakin swiftly executed his mission, remembering what his master told him.

“No mercy.”

In the blink of an eye the former Jedi flipped over the boy, slicing his body cleanly in two in the process. The other children’s once hopeful eyes soon turned to horror, dread, and pure fright as the halves of their friend’s body hit the floor.

While his prey was still in a state of shock, Anakin began to raise his left hand and curl it into a fist. Twelve younglings rose, gasping for air, or any reprieve. A reprieve that Anakin would gladly grant them, as he clenched his fist, snapping all of their necks, before tossing their limp bodies out the windows, shattering them in the process.

He then threw his lightsaber, using the force to have it spin in a circle around the room, killing any youngling that remained and destroying the supports for the room. As he caught his lightsaber, the walls came crumbling down. But his anger was too great, and as Anakin let out a scream of rage, pure power emanated from him. This power manifested itself in a huge push of force, which caused the destroyed walls to fall onto the streets below, as opposed to on him.

Anakin regained his senses, and looked at the destruction he had just caused, and then up at the night sky. He had chosen the right path, the dark side provided more power than the jedi ever could give him. He could save Padme with this, and then he would rule to galaxy, a galaxy he could give to his children. With determination and lingering anger in his stride, he set out to scavenge the rest of the temple, there might be more powerful targets than those foolish young children.

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

Anakin laid in his bed, unable to sleep. His new body wasn’t really allowing him to. The machinery was far too loud, and even when he could get some rest, all he could see was Obi-wan, leaving him to burn. Anger surged in his body, and Anakin released it by destroying a nearby nightstand.

Giving up on sleep, Anakin decided to get up and walk around. He was on the Emperor’s personal Star Destroyer, it was currently the only place he could call home. The featureless steel walls, who probably felt cold to touch. Not that he would know, he couldn’t feel anything. Anything except anger, misery, and the sense that he had lost everything.

In his aimless walking, he came onto the bridge. Imperial officers and pilots worked on either side as he moved to the window. There Palpatine stood, watching as a frame was being constructed for something he was calling the Death Star. As Anakin walked up beside his master, he looked at him, trying to get a reaction or even some acknowledgement out of the Sith lord. But no reaction came, so Anakin gave up.

The frame was absurdly large, and preposterously expensive. The money and material being spent on it alone could fund 10 Star Destroyers minimum. But the emperor insisted that when it was finished, that this machine would be so powerful no one could ever stand up to them again. They were constructing a monstrosity that could annihilate planets in one fell swoop. For such power to be wielded by Anakin Sky- no, I am no longer him, that weak fool who let everything die because of misplaced lust. I am Darth Vader, ruler of an empire that bows to my every whim. The power on this station shall be controlled by him, not the contemptable idiot known as Anakin Skywalker. I WILL BURY THAT NAME.

Despite the raging thoughts in his mind, Vader never showed it, merely crossing his arms while viewing the circle of steel. It will be an impressive sight soon, or so he hoped.

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

The rebels think they can defeat something like this? Pathetic thought born from desperation, I shall put them in their place. Vader practically ran through the halls of the Death Star. He slowed down for a second to grab two of the best pilots this station had to offer, and made for his personal ship. They had repelled most of the attack, but a few fighters had managed to get past the initial barrage and were heading right towards the one place that could blow this station to smithereens.

The exhaust pipe.

I knew we should’ve protected it, or at least made it so it doesn’t directly lead to the core powering this station. Vader strapped into the Tie Advanced x1, took off out of the hangar. No matter now, we need to reach them. He flew full speed to the spot he knew they were. It was quite easy to find them, as one had a particular presence. A familiar presence. In fact, it was basically his own.

They must have a Jedi among their ranks, but to have him go so foolishly on a suicide mission, ha, these rebels are dumber than I took them to be. No matter, another one whipped from the galaxy is a win in my book. They deserve no mercy as far as I’m concerned.

He found them, three ships in total. They took out one, then the other. The center X-Wing was still going, and it had the presence of the force-user. Easy shot, just have to aim right. His reticle was on it, he just had to pull the tri-

One of his ships got shot down.

Then the other.

Who could’ve done that.

Looking over, he saw some hunk of junk that resembled a ship he had seen before. Wasn’t that the ship that our tractor beam pulled in not too long ago? In the time Vader spent thinking, that ship spent moving, as it shot at his ship. It wasn’t destroyed, but it was sent spinning. Vader could only watch in horror as the station that so much had been put into blew up.

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

This was it, Luke was finally at his knees. The Emperor was shocking him, using his lightning to burn his flesh away. So why didn’t Vader feel triumphant. He only felt, pain. It made no sense, he didn’t care for this child, this boy. It was a relic from his past life, the last remnant of it. With his destruction, Vader could finally move on.

But he couldn’t.

No, Anakin still lived within Vader, and he couldn’t bare this.

That was his boy.

Luke Skywalker

And he was dying.

Anakin couldn’t just stand there. He grabbed the man he once called master, and threw him. Threw him over the railing, into the belly of this station. He showed mercy for the first time in years, and he showed it to his own son.

 

Edited by DarthR0xas
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Jotari Grand Master

Jotari

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@TheSilentChloey

Spoiler

I think I like this best from the stuff I've seen from you so far. It's an interesting spin on the theme and it really gels well with Marth's character arc (also I love asshole Cornelius, the OVA wasn't the best thing in the world, but I really wish it had lasted more than two episodes). I do however think the whole Lucina scene was pretty irrelevant. It didn't seem to play to the theme of the story or really add to it in anyway. It was probably part of your outline from the start, yet it felt almost tacked on. A simple short story focusing on Marth in two points in his life where he does two similar things and his deep ambivalence of it would have sufficed.

@Shoblongoo

Spoiler

Having the great heroes be gospel is a nice idea, although if they're that important than I find Ike and co not knowing who Altina is kind of strange (granted that's strange even in the context of Path of Radiance). Analyzing the different meanings in the scripture was well done, however I feel like Sanaki's interpretation was a little too nuanced for her age. I know she's meant to be mature, but she extrapolated some pretty heavy meaning from this and was elegant enough to have Sephiran admit he's wrong. I think it would have been better if the roles were reversed in that regard. That would also make her decision to put herself at the mercy of Reyson a direct reaction to something Sephiran taught to her, burdening him with an unforseen consequence of his action.

@Farina's Pegasus

Spoiler

 

I feel like I was stumbling into this story in the middle of it, and that gave me a hard time getting invested. I didn't really get exactly what Rain's situation was yet it felt as if the story expected me to know and care. In this case I think giving less information would have preferable. In other words, cut the scene with Artemis and just have us begin with a desperate situation that has an unexpectedly positive resolution. The way the story is presented I'm trying to figure out what exactly she is trying to achieve or do in the long run when really all that's important for this particular story is the short term goal of simply finding somewhere to sleep. If that makes sense.

Also I think it's a little unrealistic that she was so forthcoming with her name. It was dropped almost mid sentence and kind of responded to mid sentence too while something else was also being discussed. In the car she said all he knows is her name, but why did she even give him that much when there's an issue of trust in such a dangerous place? Also his surname Rockerfeller only appears in the title and nowhere else.

 

@Rafiel's Aria

Spoiler

This one was great. Discworld has given me a great love for anthropomorphic personifications of death and this was an interesting spin on it. He's clearly vicious and pessimistic, but there's a definite softness and kindness to him. Making it some kind of ill described beast was a great touch for enhancing that aspect. It works really, really well over all and might even get my vote. The only thing is though...I didn't spot any mercy at all. Death wiped out the previous world without a single survivor. Even the boy now exists via some unwillingness on Death's part. I guess the boy intends to show mercy by never fulfilling his role as he next Death, but that's not something the story actually focuses on.

@DarthR0xas

Spoiler

 

Fanfiction that depicts canon events, my favorite kind. That being said, I'm not sure there's a whole lot to this. I know what you were getting at and it's a good idea, but it feels a little...under developed I guess. Especially the final scene. That one is the big turning point of Vader's entire character yet it's the shortest part of the story

Also I find it hilarious Anakin felt the need to jump right over a four foot nothing kid instead of bisecting him from a frontal position.

 

 

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DarthR0xas

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4 hours ago, Rapier said:

I had a weird Star Wars idea for this round while on the bus, but it was too late. Oh well.

Yeah, Star Wars is the perfect fandom for this theme imo. One of their main themes is mercy, and there are so many characters that can properly embody it or the absence of it.

With that, let's get onto the whole peer feedback thing. I'll go backwards, as I usually do. That means we start with me. Self-reflection is always fun.

Spoiler

Jeez, I am not proud of this one. I started it weeks ago, and then all the end of semester/course exams came and hit like a truck. After they ended, I was so worn out that I didn't really feel like writing for a day, and then I rushed it out. You can see that even I didn't think I would do it. I really feel like I didn't do this concept justice, and I hope that sometime I can revisit this idea, maybe under a different theme with a slightly different focus, and then allow it to shine like it should. The pace is breakneck as I skim through classic Star Wars scenes with barely any thought put into them. I planned for there to be so much more, but most of that got cut for the pivotal plot moments. And even my usual detail isn't up to snuff. Gods this is just a mess in motion.

Next we get @Rafiel's Aria

Spoiler

That was, actually incredibly heartwarming. I was kinda confused at the start, but I picked up on the gist of it. My only big issue is that it's kinda hard for me to picture what Death looks like. At the start I was think classic Castlevania Death, but then I quickly realized that this Death was nothing like that one. Probably just need a bit more context. That's the other issue with this story. The referencing of events and people that I only vaguely know about. Different incarnations of the world, master, these other people who seem important but yet I only have vague labels for. It's some neat intrigue, but it isn't answered in this story, and since it's a one-off it kinda suffers for that. At first I thought this didn't fit the theme, but then I realize that I was thinking too broad. The mercy here is mainly exhibited by the child, or more accurately the interactions to and at the child. The mere creation of him is an act of mercy by this master fellow. Pretty nice when you get right down to it.

Then @Farina's Pegasus

Spoiler

When I first read this, something seemed off immediately. But I couldn't place it. After a re-read, and a nap, I can conclusively say that this world is unrealistic, and the main character is weird. I'll start with the world, or namely the town this story takes place in. I think the impression you were trying to go for was "a slum town that has people with hearts of gold", but the impression that I got was "Literally two people who can remotely be considered good live in a town of creeps and assholes." The way that Trent describes it, it's as if the town literally can't be considered good unless he is there. Anything good in the town is derived from Trent. All hail Trent, he is such a great guy. It's annoying. He's supposed to be the focal point of the story if the title is to be believed, but he kinda ends up feeling like the most important footnote ever. The main character is odd. It felt like three characters stitched together into one. The down to Earth girl, the sexy girl, and some third trait girl that sums up the other oddities. Like, she is said to be attractive, but what does that really mean? The impression I get from the town is that they'd hit on her if she was a 2/10, so her being this sexy lady clashes with the rest of her personality. It's like you want to make the popular girl a quirky teen, which is incredibly hard to pull of while keeping both elements important and balanced, and you utterly failed. She basically just becomes the quirky girl. She's also oddly forthcoming. In other words, this story feels unnatural to me, and that is it's biggest issue.

Followed by @Shoblongoo

Spoiler

I always love me some Tellius. The mock bible verse was a nice touch, although a tad odd if I do say so. As much as I love a good ol' theological showdown of interpretations, at certain points the immersion broke for me. Such as when Sanaki said "be better than the haters". She would never say the work haters. Sinners, absolutely but haters, never. She refers to haters multiple times, and each time it caused my getting into the reading to shatter. Like a fine painting being punched through with a fist. Also, slight redundancy with wording with "yawned a deep yawn". I'll be honest, I'm nitpicking some wording stuff, since besides the little immersion breaks, this is amazing literature. Probably my favorite piece of yours that I read. I agree with Jotari that had the roles been slightly reversed, this story could be slightly better, but there's always room for improvement.

And last but not least @TheSilentChloey

Spoiler

From the second I finished reading your submission for the grammar check, I could see there were some glaring holes with it. However, those were with the plot itself, not the sentence structure or grammar, so I just kept my mouth shut. The biggest one is the disconnect between Lucina and Marth's stories. Lucina's story is basically meaningless, and doesn't connect to Marth's in the slightest. The fact that Lucina is just shoved in there unnecessarily drags the whole product down. It's two separate stories, in which one of the stories involves two separate stories. It's one of those, "Pick a plot and stick with it" moments. Your story was well written, and all that jazz, but if half of it is pointless fluff, then that's a major problem.

 

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Farina's Pegasus

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11 hours ago, Jotari said:
11 hours ago, Jotari said:

 

@Farina's Pegasus

  Reveal hidden contents

 

I feel like I was stumbling into this story in the middle of it, and that gave me a hard time getting invested. I didn't really get exactly what Rain's situation was yet it felt as if the story expected me to know and care. In this case I think giving less information would have preferable. In other words, cut the scene with Artemis and just have us begin with a desperate situation that has an unexpectedly positive resolution. The way the story is presented I'm trying to figure out what exactly she is trying to achieve or do in the long run when really all that's important for this particular story is the short term goal of simply finding somewhere to sleep. If that makes sense.

Also I think it's a little unrealistic that she was so forthcoming with her name. It was dropped almost mid sentence and kind of responded to mid sentence too while something else was also being discussed. In the car she said all he knows is her name, but why did she even give him that much when there's an issue of trust in such a dangerous place? Also his surname Rockerfeller only appears in the title and nowhere else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

47 minutes ago, DarthR0xas said:

Then @Farina's Pegasus

  Reveal hidden contents

When I first read this, something seemed off immediately. But I couldn't place it. After a re-read, and a nap, I can conclusively say that this world is unrealistic, and the main character is weird. I'll start with the world, or namely the town this story takes place in. I think the impression you were trying to go for was "a slum town that has people with hearts of gold", but the impression that I got was "Literally two people who can remotely be considered good live in a town of creeps and assholes." The way that Trent describes it, it's as if the town literally can't be considered good unless he is there. Anything good in the town is derived from Trent. All hail Trent, he is such a great guy. It's annoying. He's supposed to be the focal point of the story if the title is to be believed, but he kinda ends up feeling like the most important footnote ever. The main character is odd. It felt like three characters stitched together into one. The down to Earth girl, the sexy girl, and some third trait girl that sums up the other oddities. Like, she is said to be attractive, but what does that really mean? The impression I get from the town is that they'd hit on her if she was a 2/10, so her being this sexy lady clashes with the rest of her personality. It's like you want to make the popular girl a quirky teen, which is incredibly hard to pull of while keeping both elements important and balanced, and you utterly failed. She basically just becomes the quirky girl. She's also oddly forthcoming. In other words, this story feels unnatural to me, and that is it's biggest issue.

 

So... do I get any sort of positive feedback? I know my story isn't very good and it's far from the best that I'm capable of, due to time constraints, but, did I do something right?

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Rapier Rookie

Rapier

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15 hours ago, Shoblongoo said:

Brownie points to the Star Wars fandom for literally anything u can write is better than what Disney is doing atm.

The Force Awakens was well received and had an overall consistent plot, despite being formulaic and mirroring the original trilogy and some of the prequels. The Last Jedi was bad, for reasons that don't really matter for me to rant about here.

So, I'd say the new trilogy is ok. A good title and a bad title is all we got, but things don't fare well for the new movie since switching writers and working with what was established in previous movies is hard (imagine if we worked together in a fic).

Anyways, my idea was based on a certain quest from KOTOR where you face a padawan who's gone astray. That, or a recently "knighted" Jedi having to make a moral dilemma.

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DarthR0xas Newbie

DarthR0xas

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1 hour ago, Farina's Pegasus said:

So... do I get any sort of positive feedback? I know my story isn't very good and it's far from the best that I'm capable of, due to time constraints, but, did I do something right?

I mean, aside from the plot, character, and world problems it's competently written. I really don't know what else you want, the story is flawed in such a manner that any complement is minor at best to it, and it would seem kind of backhanded in my opinion. Look, I get that negative feedback is disheartening, but demanding positive feedback is kind of, what's the word, an immature thing to do. It's like, "I won't acknowledge this criticism unless it's positive". That probably isn't your intention (or at least, I hope it wasn't), but it's the impression I gleamed from it.

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Farina's Pegasus

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1 minute ago, DarthR0xas said:

I mean, aside from the plot, character, and world problems it's competently written. I really don't know what else you want, the story is flawed in such a manner that any complement is minor at best to it, and it would seem kind of backhanded in my opinion. Look, I get that negative feedback is disheartening, but demanding positive feedback is kind of, what's the word, an immature thing to do. It's like, "I won't acknowledge this criticism unless it's positive". That probably isn't your intention (or at least, I hope it wasn't), but it's the impression I gleamed from it.

You didn't comment that my story was "competently written" in your initial feedback so I assumed that you found nothing positive. And I never implied that your critique was invalid, either, I agree that the world was not developed well and Rain is written (not intentionally, but still) as a mostly-unrelatable Mary Sue, and Trent is portrayed as too positive to feel anything close to a real person. I agree with all of that. I was just rather surprised that I was the only one who received entirely negative feedback from you, out of all your responses. 

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DarthR0xas

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28 minutes ago, Farina's Pegasus said:

You didn't comment that my story was "competently written" in your initial feedback so I assumed that you found nothing positive. And I never implied that your critique was invalid, either, I agree that the world was not developed well and Rain is written (not intentionally, but still) as a mostly-unrelatable Mary Sue, and Trent is portrayed as too positive to feel anything close to a real person. I agree with all of that. I was just rather surprised that I was the only one who received entirely negative feedback from you, out of all your responses. 

Ah, sorry. The reason why I didn't include it originally was mainly just the fact I'd already written so much for you just led me to not include thoughts that didn't pertain to improvement. Competently written, while something that should've been noted, doesn't really add to anything, so I didn't find a good place to fit it in. As for why it was entirely negative, that was mainly because I wrote it in the morning as opposed to the night (as I said, I slept on why I didn't like your story), and I am much more blunt in the morning. Had I written the critique earlier, I would've certainly been less negative. 

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Jotari Grand Master

Jotari

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7 hours ago, Farina's Pegasus said:

 

 

So... do I get any sort of positive feedback? I know my story isn't very good and it's far from the best that I'm capable of, due to time constraints, but, did I do something right?

Sorry. *embarrassed rubbing the back of my head with a huge grin gesture* It was decently written, and unlike for R0xas your main character did come across like a real person to me. It's just easier to comment on the negatives. Like I said, I felt I'd been dropped in the middle of a larger story, and that story did seem interesting enough, but sort of shifted the focus of the here and now of the tale. That's not inherently a bad thing, it's more just unsuited for these sort of competitions where logistics means we can't write novels. In other words, if I knew Rain already and found out what happened to her next in a 70,000 word story it would solve most of the issues I had.

Edited by Jotari
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