Tag: Original

Display of Honor

The crowd standing below me are all yelling and chanting in a frenzy, just waiting for the final verdict to be given. It has been quite some time since the last public display of force, so I can understand why they’re all so anxious to see what kind of verdict they’re expecting. However, based on the way the crowd are acting, I can tell they want everything to end violently.

“Bash his filthy skull into the pavement!”

“Don’t give him a chance to try and defend himself; he knows he did wrong!”

“Show the splatter on the mallet afterwards!”

I’ve come to appreciate the bloodlust emanating from the townspeople. But their desire is little to none when compared to my own. Ready to let this come to an end, I carefully pushed myself up from my throne and stepped up to the end of the balcony, “My fellow Tavarian people. It is time.”

The excitement of the crowd skyrocketed when they heard my voice call out to them. In almost perfect unison they all turned back towards the castle wall and gazed upward at me, cheering and applauding at my entrance. They start begging for me to give the final verdict as their anticipation is nearing its peak. Although I already knew how today’s display will end, I wanted to tease them just a bit longer.

“Before I give my verdict,” I started, “I understand the Warden would like to make sure everybody is on the same page.” Slowly raising my hand, I point towards the ironclad figure standing on the wooden stage in the center of the courtyard. Next to him is a man, bound by his wrists and ankles, thrown to his knees, and his head hanging off the edge of a stone display. “Warden, would you please.”

Placing his gauntleted fist across his chest, the Warden gave a slight bow before speaking, “Thank you, your Highness.” In a proud display of honor, the Warden then banged on his chest, the chest-plate ringing loudly across the yard, as he roared, “For Tavaria!”

The crowd let out a roar of their own, repeating over and over “For the honor of Tavaria, for the pride of Tavarian might!”

“Tavarian might is absolute. Tavarian honor submits to none,” I whispered under my breath. I felt the blazing energy from the crowd resting in my chest, but I had to keep myself under control; a queen does have their own honor to uphold at times.

The Warden couldn’t help but laugh with glee at the people, feeling joyous at the strong display from the people of Tavaria. However, he knew that this gathering wasn’t to boast, but to punish. He raised his hand and said, “At ease, all. Let us proceed with today’s event.”

Screwdriver

“Tell me, Mr. Hudson. What goes on in that thick skull of yours? You seem to the be type of person who lets their mind wander about all day and night. Or, perhaps you just do that to help you forget the worries and stressful nature of your daily life.”

Ezekial kept up his casual, back and forth pacing in the darkened room. Even with just a single, low-hanging light bulb in the center of the room, he could catch the glimmering of the various tools scattered along the ground. He picked up a small hammer, eyeing the light layer of rust on the top of the claw – the part that helps take out nails, “This could be useful. I should go through all my options first.”

Without looking behind him, Ezekial lobbed the rusty hammer over his shoulder. Before hearing the sound of crashing metal, the screaming of a man came from behind him. Ezekial’s skin hardened full of goosebumps as the man continued screaming for a bit longer; sobs and pleading started replacing the scream.

“Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?”

Ezekial came to a sudden halt, “‘What have I ever done to you?’ You really don’t know why I brought you here? Are you that fucking dense?”

With his face buried in his hands, Ezekial took a moment to to breath, about to let out a scream of his own, but the only thing that came out was a loud, exhausted sigh. Part of him couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of this man’s mouth. It just made him more angry, wanting to put all of this behind him. However, Ezekial didn’t want to just finish his current job; he wanted to relish and enjoy the sight a bit longer before bringing it all to an end. He looked down in front of him and saw a broken screwdriver, the head of it gone, leaving a razor-edge point in place.

Ezekial juggled the screwdriver in his hand as he turned to face the man. Placed under the light bulb in the center of the room sat a wounded man, chained and bound by his wrists, ankles and chest. Gashes and bruises mark the marked the man’s entire body, blood tricked down and formed a small pool around his feet. Chunks of his grey hair are gone, like somebody has been dragging him by the scalp.

The man could barely keep his head up to look at Ezekial. His strength reserves were near its end, and he wanted to try and use whatever he had left to try and survive the torture he was expecting to happen.

Seeing the injured man put a strange gurgling sensation in the center of Ezekial’s stomach. It was a very familiar sensation he’s come to recognize after years and years of giving into his hobby. He’s managed to see a bunch of the people who he’s had conflict with in the past and managed to find closure. Today was no different.

He crept up to Nathan, the man bound to the chair. With his free hand, Ezekial grabbed him by a clump of his hair and forced him to look up. Seeing Nathan’s bulky neck, the broken screwdriver pressed against his windpipe, just moments away from piercing straight through it with enough force.

“Nathan Hudson. Born in September of 1972. Graduated top of his class in high school and got a full scholarship to Uni of Nevada. You had it all.”

“How do you know all of this about me…?”

Ezekial’s face was covered in a frown full of hate, “I have my sources. But don’t fret. You won’t be missed.”


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— via Daily Prompt: Fret

Wine-Made-Molotov

Nobody likes a person who’s always thinking that the world revolves around them, that everything they do is the real-life version of perfection. They’ll always try to convince others that they’re the one who’s wrong and will fight just to prove a false point.

However, there are certain people who have no good proof that they’re even usable or reliable. Their constant mistakes only drag on and make certain things more difficult than it should be. And the person would even continue and try to say that they can do wrong.

When faced with the wrong person, the perfectionist will be faced with the result of their self-centered ego.

Something like that doesn’t take priority at the moment. Somebody else can take care of it.

The sounds of papers shuffling echos at the end of the aisle as he carefully turns around to avoid hitting the wine bottles organized on the wall rack. The bright ceiling light illuminates the thick, bushy facial hair hanging from the bottom of his chin.

Every time I see this mother fucker, I just wanna punch him straight in the face.

Healer By Trade [18+]

In a weird way, I can see myself acting like the same kind of character like the one I play in my video games. I always tend to go for the one that looks over everybody, making sure they’re all okay and wanting to keep them in tip-top condition. 

And in my actual life, I’m always doing my best to try and keep my girl happy and healthy. But just like in video games, I won’t always be given an easy task to complete. But, with a big of creativity and technique, I can do just about anything.

And tonight, it involves feeling “frisky.”

From the loudness of her voice and the constant use of the word “Fuck,” I can’t help but assume work was more than stressful today.

I give her a warm smile. I know she didn’t mean to say that to me, “It’s alright, baby.” I plant a quick kiss on her heated cheek to accept her apology.

Monster Madness – What’s Better: Bleaching or Slime?

“Till death do us part.” It’s a simple line, yet it holds a deep and complex significance behind it. So many say those words, some fall apart rather quickly, and very few actually manage to make it until death is at their door.

In this case, death literally came for them but gave them another life: the life of a living skeleton. After living as a skeleton for so long he has forgotten what it’s like to be human. But he doesn’t mind it at all. However, his wife has a different idea about it.

After a few seconds of hearing my genuine laughter she finally looks at me again with a small smile on her face.

“But come on! You look handsome as a human, with your light brown hair and caramel-color skin. Why don’t you go to an alchemist to become fully human again?”

Monster Madness – Integration at the Counter

Have you ever looked at somebody and automatically assumed they acted a certain way based on your passed experiences? It’s an all too common thing that everybody does at some point in their life, whether they think of something positive or negative.

But out of all of the times that it occurred, how many of those times actually turned out to be completely different than what you expected? Did that person act differently, much more differently than you expected?

Even though I caught the end of the man’s story, I’m interested in knowing a bit more about the struggles of his work. I look at him to give my attention in case he begins a new tale.

I take another sip of my drink as I face the man, his light brown eyes already looking at me. He raises his glass at me with a big grin on his face, “Bosses are the worst part about working in an office, wouldn’t you agree?”

Monster Madness – Knight of the Red Scale – Part One

There’s well-found honor in accepting a duel from an opponent. Whether one uses a spear, a sword, or mace, a warrior with the heart for battle never lets an opportunity to test their skill go to waste. In this instance, a wandering knight in search of supplies for repairs stumbles upon a resident from a mountain landscape.

With an opponent with unusually red skin, the knight openly accepts the invitation to a duel. Should the knight win, they’ll get the supplies. And if they fail…? 

She follows the red sky and can see where it transitions into the calming blue sky above the forest, “Just a bit further now.”

The figure’s barely covered in any clothing, seeming to only be dressed in armor created from red and brown scales that resembles a raging flame.

Monster Madness – Youngster by the Dumpster

Happy March Monster Madness, everybody! I hope your March has been going well.

I kept my promise and will be posting mostly monster related stories throughout the month of March. And even though this is just the first one, I still have enough time to pump out some more stories for your hungry eyes!

To kick off our Monster Madness, I decided to keep it a bit simple. Our story involves a high school girl heading home, when she decides to take a shortcut through a dark alleyway. That’s usually never a good sign.

What do you think is going to happen? Well, continue reading Youngster by the Dumpster to find out!

Enjoy!

Unexplained Powers

History has shown that magic had some kind of influence on the events in the past. Even if people couldn’t see it if a certain person acted a way that wasn’t deemed “normal” for that era, magic would be the explanation. Often executing or put to exile, people were outcasts for even the simplest of things that could easily be explained in the modern era.

However, in some of those cases, people were lucky when the person they killed or exiled actually did use magic, whether the public knew it or not. Now, as society has developed to a new age, there are some things that science just can’t explain.

Such as how this woman is floating high in the sky below the streets.

Calezia raised her hand towards the clear night sky. Somehow, even though there wasn’t a cloud in sight, a large bolt of lightning struck down, colliding with her hand.

One of the policemen screamed out, “Spread out, she’s about to fire!”

Face-to-Foot [18+]

Living above a bar will usually give you some unwanted noise every week. It’s always at its worse when you’re trying to spend a nice, quiet night in with a good book on the couch. The roars of people partying and the booming of music can easily break your immersion into the novel in hand.

On top of that, if you live with a roommate who frequents said bar below you’ll eventually have a night where they come home a bit… different. Of course, that could either play to your advantage or give you a long, stressful night. 

But what would you do if they somehow started doing the unexpected?

Mia glanced from around her book in response, “That’s the alcohol taking over Rosa. The more you drink, the warmer your body gets. You didn’t even drink water in-between, did you?”

Rosa proudly shook her head with a smile, “Water doesn’t taste good. It doesn’t taste as good as what I had, and I had a lot.”

Playing with the Dead

May the passed rest in peace. Thy has no right to disturb those from their eternal slumber. Restless souls will rise up and roam through the gates of purgatory and seek vengeance on who desecrated their resting place.  

One’s intentions may be pure and without malicious intent. However, that would make one look like a fool in the eyes of the dead. 

“Conjuring up spirits isn’t something we shouldn’t even be thinking about!”

Story Preview: Kazumi (Working Title)

For those of you who read my little sum-up of February so far, you saw this coming. For those who didn’t it’s just a bigger surprise!

As promised, here’s a sample of the story I was working on before I became sick. Feel free to leave your opinions and ideas in the comments or email them if you’d like. All feedback is appreciated!

*****

“Hmm. I have a feeling that the main character is going to be put through something that will require him to sacrifice something. That’s how the plot seems to be leading itself.”

The tiny girl flipped the pages of her obviously over-sized novel. In comparison to her tiny body the book could have acted like a small divider that protected everything below her neck. Book propped up against her legs and her narrow fingers traveling along as she read the words Violet carefully read her novel: The Unfortunate Life of Mr. Takeshi. Those who knew about that book we’re at least the age of twenty-one, legal adults who wouldn’t dare pick up the book unless they wanted to have nightmares for the following month.

Young Kazumi kept her excitement for such horrors on a tight leash as he eyes darted across the aging pages. She was the sole collector of the unedited edition before it was released for a general publishing first edition.

As she lost herself in the vivid description of graphic gore, shredded limbs and torn body parts Kazumi had to constantly regain her immersion into her horrific novel after hearing all of the other children running around and having fun.

Kazumi tilted her head to the side to see the dozens of children running on the playground, “What’s so fun about running around a yard and screaming your head off? If anything, you’ll just get a sore throat and a headache afterwards.” She hid back behind her book and let out a disappointed sigh before continuing her reading.

Kazumi was obviously different from the rest of the elementary school students. While most of them enjoyed burning out their absurdly high amount of energy, jumping across imaginary lava pits, playing fake gun wars with their fingers, or just climbing across the massive jungle gym like actual animals, Kazumi would prefer to find the darkest corner of the sun-lit playground and read horror novels aimed towards older crowds. Kazumi had purposely made herself the “black sheep” of the entire school, but it allowed her to avoid unnecessary conversations from other students.

However, seeing such unusual behavior caused her homeroom teacher, Mrs. Honomura, to call her parents in for a one-on-one meeting. It was futile as her parents approved of Kazumi’s high desire to read, regardless if it was a children’s book or a violently graphic novel. They were just happy that their child actively wanted to read.

Nonetheless, Kazumi thrived in her alone time.

Today, as she read about her favorite main character having to choose between losing a leg or an arm, a group of children on the playground thought it would be a good idea to disturb her daily reading ritual. Many of the school children felt like Kazumi was unusual, almost like she was a robot sent into spy on them like their imaginative playtime sessions. In their sessions robots possessed supernatural reflexes, able to dodge anything within a matter of milliseconds.

To see if she really was a robot, one of the fifth-graders grabbed a red rubber ball and launched it with all of their strength. This particular fifth-graders was known for hurting other students during a game of dodgeball: he was rumored to have knocked out an entire row of teeth from another student who got hit in the face with a ball. With a quick wind-up the student launched the ball with all of his might, his target seemingly unaware of the red sphere flying towards her.

It took no more than a second for the ball to travel across the playground. Right as the ball was about to crash into Kazumi’s book it came to a sudden stop. The only thing is, nothing caught the ball nor did it hit anything: the ball was suspended in mid air. Confused about if they should be scared or amazed the children kept their eyes on the ball to see what would happen next.

Noticing the sudden silence on the playground Kazumi put the book down and immediately saw the dodgeball just a few inches away. However, from her point of view, she could clearly see the reason why it never hit her. Her eyes darted up Kazumi saw a familiar arm extending out from over her head.

The arm was muscular along its entire length, veins lightly protruding on the forearm. The skin was an unnatural color, an off-gray color with faint hues of blue patches. The hand tightly gripping the ball was large and had talon-like fingers that could shred anything to strips within seconds. The hand occasionally squeezed the ball like a beating heart.

To many, seeing something so dry, so dead-looking would throw them into a fit of panic and fright. For Kazumi, she knew the body that the arm was attached to and felt no such fear. She didn’t have to look back to see who was behind her.

“Thank you, Ogaki. I was just finishing up this chapter when that ball was thrown.”

Kazumi brought her attention to the group of students bundled together across the playground. They’re still in shock about the ball, but she could see a growing fear in their eyes; she knew that they were unable to see “Ogaki,” but that was only because Kazumi didn’t want to cause an uproar as it would further disturb her reading.

“Throw the ball back, Ogaki,” she said as she picked her book back up and went back to her reading.

Following the young girl’s words the arm gently tossed the ball back across the playground. It quickly fell and went rolling along the gravel ground. The other school children didn’t dare touch the ball, thinking there might be something cursed on it. After a moment of complete silence one of the children breaks out in a sprint, screaming at the top of their tiny lungs. Many more follows behind in the same manner.

Kazumi took one last glance at the other school kids, “Idiots.”


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