myuselessartandstories
My Useless Art And Stories
I put all my stories and art here now cause there's more than I thought there'd be.
88 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
formulafit
Formula Fit
little-lost-canary
Take Your Half & Run
krowzivitch
šKrowzivitchš
jcco
JCCO
leylazahar
Leyla Zahar
Text
Rig #1 (FIN)
youtube
I finally finished it.
It looks like crap.
But that's ok cause it was just practice.
0 notes
Text
Story #34
Watchman
Day 1
My first day as a forest ranger was definitely strange. I just sat by a window and watched people walk in and out of the woods, some carrying guns and bows to hunt, some carrying fishing poles, and others just going with friends. It was fun to watch the animals, too. They seemed so peaceful.Ā
It was a little too quiet for my liking, but it was better than at training with all the noise. The chirping birds were a nice change from the city noises. I think Iāll quite like it here.Ā
Day 4
One of the other rangers quit today, so I have to do both day and night shifts. Say goodbye to healthy sleep. I donāt even know why we have a night shift. Who would sneak into a forest at night? Especially in this creepy of a forest?
The birds arenāt chirping anymore. I miss the calming sound. Itās so much better than...
I just saw something near the treeline. A big black blob. Too big to be human, but not the right shape to be a bear. I donāt want to leave to check. Iām sure it was just my imagination.Ā
Day 9
I donāt like night shifts. I haven't had a good sleep in a while. I keep seeing these black blobs. I asked the ranger leader, but he just mumbled something about the last forest ranger.
I can hear crying when I try to sleep. Is it the blobs? I donāt know what they are.... Are they coming for me?
Day 20
Itās actually quiet tonight. Itās too quiet. Where are the blobs? Where did they go? I can still hear the crying, so they must be here. Iām going to investigate.
I couldnāt even get two steps out the door before I saw one. About five yards ahead of me, it stood there. It had bright white eyes and black fur. It wasnāt normal. I need to tell the ranger leader.
Day 21
He laughed in my face. That jerk laughed in my face. I told him all about the blobs and he just laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. He wouldnāt shut up.
Tonight, Iāll show him. Iāll get a picture of one. Iāll even bring back a body to show him. Iāll show him theyāre real. I know they are. I can see them. I can hear them. They. Are. There.
Day 26
I got the camera and my gun. I went out to hunt. It was pitch black, so I had a flashlight. It had been my first time actually in the woods. It was darker than I thought. I still heard the crying, so I followed it.
I got to a tree where the crying was the loudest. The tree was normal though. No abnormal scratches. Nothing out of the ordinary. I felt something behind me. It was a blob. I just knew it. I turned quickly, but nothing was there.Ā
I am not happy right now. I need that evidence for the ranger leader. Heāll just keep laughing if I donāt. I need that evidence.
Day 30
They are getting closer. The cries are getting louder. I canāt stand it. I need to get rid of them. I know theyāre coming for me. They call for me. I ignore it. Iāll wait. And wait. And wait. Iāll strike when they are close enough. Theyāll be dead. Theyāll be gone.
Day 45
The leader said I need a leave day. He just wants to laugh behind my back. Iām no fool. Iām ready with my gun. Iām ready to kill. I can hear them knocking. Iāll answer. Iāll shoot. Iāll kill.
Day 46
I didnāt mean to. I swear I didnāt. I thought he was a blob. I shot him. The leader is dead. I shot him. I shot at the blob, but he got hit. The blobs killed him, not me. I didnāt do anything. I swear.
Log 5-14-64
Subject shows extreme paranoia and sees things not there. He has attacked staff and shown extreme aggression. He is to be put in a holding room until the trial. You are to only approach with three guards and you should not talk to him. If he tries to attack, call for help. If he talks about āblobsā leave the room. Immediately.
Log 5-17-64
I can see them. The blobs. Theyāre here for me. Subject was right. I listened to him. His stories are true. They come for us. They come for us all. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.
(I was in a mood)
0 notes
Text
Story #33
War
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Blood. Everywhere. It wonāt stop. Why wonāt it stop? Heās breathing. But heās not here. Heās not seeing. Heās not living. Heās in pain. Heās bleeding. Why did this happen? I donāt get it. This shouldnāt have happened. Itās my fault. I shouldnāt have lied. Why is this happening? Donāt make me relive this. I canāt. Donāt make me.
Iām back at home with my mother. My fatherās in the war right now. This war is dumb. We should have won already. Russiaās weak. Germanyās strong. My father is strong. Mother says heās dead, but I donāt believe it. Heāll come back.
I tried to join when he did, but apparently sixteen is too young. That shouldnāt matter! If youāre willing to fight, they should let you fight! Iād kill every last Russian, Englishman, Frenchman, Italian, and American! The others wouldnāt even be a challenge. Iāve fought an Indian before. Theyāre as weak as they used to be. They should go back to being slaves, but for us instead.
Mother is complaining about the āhirnlose Amerikanerā again. Itās annoying. Itās all she talks about now. Father kept the peace between us. Mother and I have never gotten along before. Now itās worse.Ā
I leave the house for some fresh air. Maybe Iāll find a stray Serbian and die ScheiĆe aus ihnen herausprĆ¼geln. They wonāt stand a chance. I walk along the street of my home and see a recruiter. Heās calling for any men of age to join the war. āHelfen Sie mit, die Russen zu bekƤmpfen! Die Ćsterreicher sind ohne uns zu schwach!āĀ
I look at myself in a nearby puddle. Father has always said I look older than I am. Maybe I can fool a recruiter.Ā
Getting into line, I look at the people about to join with me. Way too many old people. Somebody looks like heās got a broken arm. Why are these schwƤchlinge joining the army? They wonāt be of any help!
The recruiter looks at me for a moment. āDas Alter?ā He asks. I hesitate. I donāt lie often. Mother says Iām a bad liar. āAchtzehn.ā I say quickly. I have to be careful. One lie could get me in a lot of trouble. āGeh weiter. Sie bringen das Fahrzeug zur Basis. Tu, was dir gesagt wird.ā I nod and walk past him.
A few days later, Iām in a vehicle, heading to a trench that called reinforcements. Iām ready to fight. These stupid Russians wonāt know what hit them. Walter is sitting beside me, clutching his Gewehr 43 close to his chest. āOh, look at the scared German,ā I start in a terrible American accent. āHow easy it will be to kill him!ā I laugh. Walter does not.
āMach keine Witze darĆ¼ber!ā He yells at me, still scared. I sigh and pat his back. Walter and I became friends quickly. We bumped into each other when he fell off the climbing wall. Heās not the bravest, but heās pretty smart. āMach dir keine Sorgen. Ich mach nur SpaĆ. Du musst dich beruhigen.ā I say. Heāll get himself killed if he continues to be a verƤngstigtes kind.
The vehicle stops and we quickly exit and go into the trenches. Bullets are flying by and I canāt hear anybody over the loud fire of the guns. Iāve lost Walter and my group. I have no idea where I am. Now Iām the verƤngstigtes kind.Ā
Something scratches my ear and I flinch down. My ear is bleeding. A bullet must have scraped it. Itās not deep, but it hurts a lot and it keeps bleeding. I load my gun and fire back to the Russians. How dare they think they can defeat us. The nerve of them! Dumme Russen!
The gunfire stops for a moment and I look around. Everybody is looking upward, so I follow. Canisters are flying through the air, spewing yellowish-green gas from them. Now those Russians are in trouble. āVorauszahlung! Tƶte die verdammten Russen!ā
Everyone flies forward and I follow quickly, ready to spill the blood of whatever Russian gets in my way. Something comes out of the gas ahead of us. A limping Russian with a rag over his mouth. His skin is red and heās coughing, barely holding onto his weapon.
He shoots towards someone, surprisingly able to aim and fire his gun. I turn to see what weak German was just hit by a dumb Russian.Ā
Walter staggers. His gun falls and he clutches his chest. I canāt breathe. Blood spills from his chest as he falls to the ground, gasping for breath. I run to him. Blƶder Russe! How dare you shoot Walter! Iāll kill you! I turn back to the Russian, but heās gone. I look back to Walter.
Blood. Everywhere. It wonāt stop. Why wonāt it stop? Heās breathing. But heās not here. Heās not seeing. Heās not living. Heās in pain. Heās bleeding. Why did this happen? I donāt get it. This shouldnāt have happened. Itās my fault. I shouldnāt have lied. Why is this happening? Donāt make me relive this. I canāt. Donāt make me.
Something sharp hits me. I choke on my breath. I canāt think. I canāt. Where am I? Why am I here? Where is Father and Mother? Walter? I see more blood. Itās mine now. Iām dying with him. I donāt get it. My heart is beating. I feel it. Iām strong, so why am I dying? Ich hasse diesen Krieg. Ich wĆ¼nschte, ich wƤre nie gegangen.Ā
(I was told I couldn't write something like this, so I went "bet" and proceeded to write the shittiest story ever)
0 notes
Text
Story #32
Tick
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Again, and again, and again. It never stops. I can hear it. I can hear the death clock ticking.Ā
One clock stops. A car crashes. Another stops. Someone collapses. Another stops. Another dies. Another stop, another death. I can hear it all. I know when others will die. I canāt stop it. I always hear it.
My parents saw me as a freak. I had no friends in school. The teachers feared me. Iāve barely ever had friends. Those that believe me stop believing later on. Iām lonely. Iām a freak.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Iāve told others about this. They laugh. They call me crazy. Iāve gone to therapy. Iāve been called crazy. They wonāt help me. They laugh. They look at me like Iām a freak.Ā
My whole life, Iāve heard a clock, even when Iām alone. I donāt know whose it is. Itās getting softer all the time. Iāve looked up what hearing clocks could mean. Iāve found nothing. So much technology now, but no way to get answers. I donāt know what to do. I donāt know who to go to. Iām trapped in the constant ticking and constant deaths.
I told someone once I heard their clock dying. They laughed. They laughed until they died. Until their clock stopped. I was there. I heard the clock stop. I heard them die. I canāt stop it. I can only hear it.Ā
Tick.
Tick.
I canāt focus on anything anymore. Not with the constant ticking from the random clock. Iāve been fired from many jobs. I canāt keep focus. I only hear the ticking. I canāt sleep. I wake too easily to the ticking.Ā
I went to the doctor recently. My fingernails have been turning black. The doctor doesnāt know whatās wrong. Iām taking pills for a pain that doesnāt exist. Nobody helps me. Nobody can help me.Ā
Tick.
I get sick easily now. Iāve been sick a lot recently. I look up the symptoms, but no sickness seems to match. Doctors wonāt help. I have no friends. I have no job. I canāt pay rent. Iāll be thrown out soon. I donāt want to die. The ticking from the random clock is quieter. Itās difficult to hear now. Someone is dying. Another clock that has finally gone quiet. It stops ticking. Everything stops.
(I'm gonna be honest, I don't remember writing this)
0 notes
Text
Story #31
Tears
For as long as Iāve known, death has been normal. People die everyday. Thatās how our world works. Itās the only way life can continue as normal. Itās the only way to survive now. You must give death to escape it.
My grandpa loved to tell stories of his time though. He always talked about how death was grieved when he was younger, and how when someone died, it wasnāt something you simply brushed off. He said that our way of life now is cruel.
My mom talked about how she remembers when deaths werenāt televised on TV and tallied up. She remembered when she knew what was going on, but wasnāt reminded of it every second whenever the TV was switched to the news channel. She wished she could get a moment of peace from the tallies.
My sibling, though zey were only a few years older than me, remembered when deaths were actually shown on TV. Zey said that there was a separate channel for it that also had the tallies, and youād watch each death as the tally count went up one by one by one.
For as long as I could remember, I was fine with the deaths happening around me. Itās natural in my eyes. Itās our way of life. Death brings us life. Death brings us freedom. I see no reason to rebel against such a natural, yet unnatural, force. I am content in my life. I am. I am content, and thereās nothing I would change. Thereās nothing I regret. My life is simple. My life was simple. I am happy. I was happy. We were happy. We were all happy....
But I still canāt get the image of my fatherās head rolling across the ground to my feet. I canāt get the image of his eyes wide and bulging, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, touching my feet, as if he was tasting my shoes. I canāt get the memory of the thud that sounded when his body was thrown into the truck to take for burial. I remember my motherās screams and my siblingās cries and my grandparentās prayers.
Yet I stayed silent that day. I could have cried. I could have screamed. I could have prayed. And yet.... I was silent. I stood there, blank-faced, as if I just saw someone step on an ant. I felt nothing. No pain. No joy. No happiness. Non sadness. I was empty.
We were put into our government mandated therapy. My mother nearly killed the poor man. My grandpa cursed him out. My grandmother refused to talk, but that may have been an early symptom of her cancer. My sibling, whom I had originally felt the closest to, spoke only hate of our family after that. Mom was called a crying coward. Grandma and grandpa were called useless cripples. I was called a cold-hearted wannabe serial killer.
Our family drifted apart after that. We barely spoke besides what was required by our therapist and doctors for our daily mental health. Our wristbands were updated to the newest model, which wasnāt supposed to happen for a few more years, to monitor our speech and what is said to us.
Grandma was taken away not too long after that. We werenāt told why, nor what was going to happen to her. But my sibling swears zey heard grandma working on how to get out of the country.
Now, though, grandpa is long dead. It wasnāt as sad this time. He wasnāt a random death. He had reached his max age allowed and was given the end-of-life death. Mom cried again. My sibling was as still as I was, though. The only way you could tell they cared was the silent intense heaving of zeir chest.
That moment was more memorable than actually watching grandpaās eyes close as he smiles from the pleasure of the killing drugs. I watched as zey clutched their chest and fell to zeir knees. Zeir face turned as red as dadās did that day as they choked for air. Zey were dying. Mom was crying too heavily to care, and the officials were still dragging grandpaās body away.Ā
As much as we had drifted apart, I still cared for my sibling. I wanted zem to feel no pain. So, I rushed to one of the officials carrying the body and snatched a syringe. I assume they had reached for me, but I was too fast. As I made it back to my sibling, zey were laying on the ground, tears streaming from zeir eyes and zey struggled to breathe. I remember that was the first time I cried watching someone die. But even with the tears, I still managed to stab the needle of the syringe into their neck and pull it out.Ā
I remember blood shooting from the artery that had been stabbed as a red puddle pooled beneath zem. Zey slowly stopped crying and struggling. Zey went still. I donāt remember as much after that. I only remember being called a monster by my mom and being dragged into the armored vehicle that the government officials used.
And thatās where I am today. I work for the government now as a Death Official. Such a strange name. Iāve talked about how if we renamed it to something nicer, maybe people would be more welcoming to us when we come to give end-of-life deaths or early deaths or young deaths or pre-birth deaths.Ā
I have plenty of scars from families that refused to go through with the deaths. They tend to throw a lot of stuff when they donāt want us near them. Itās sad, I guess. We end up having to give them all deaths.
I have to finish this therapy report here. Thereās a death protest happening nearby, and my squad is dealing with all of the people. So many unnecessary deaths. Donāt they realize how much more work itās going to take to get the population back to the average necessary if they continue doing such things?
People can be so selfish. Iāve never understood being selfish. Although, Iāve also never really understood feeling anything. Perhaps thatās why Iām ok with all this death. Emotions were never my strong suit. Maybe thereās simply something wrong with me. That could explain why I felt such joy and pleasure from killing my dear sibling all those years ago, and why I cried tears of pure joy for the first time in my life that day.
(I just finished the Hunger Games series before writing this)
0 notes
Text
Story #30
Stairs
Itās always the house at the end of the road, isnāt it? Itās always the one that has the broken windows and the cracked paint, the messed up lawn and the open door. Why canāt people just tear these stupid things down if nobodyās going to buy them?
Adults are weird, I guess. They donāt want to tear down the house, but they donāt want to sell it either. They also donāt want anyone exploring the empty house. Well, if you wonāt tear it down, why is it still there? To explore, of course! That should be obvious.
I wanted to bring some friends, but they all said no. Buncha cowards. Iām the only one not afraid of this stupid house. It is a bit dusty though. And I think I see some spider webs. Wait, what is that? Oh, itās just a little snake. If this were a horror film, I would have freaked out already, but Iām not a coward, so Iām not scared.
I wish I could have come when the sun was still up, but my parents didnāt want to leave me alone until the moon had already risen. I guess itās fine. Itāll be like an actual haunted house now. Iāve always wanted to go to a haunted house. Getting the socks scared off of me always seemed fun, but my parents never wanted to take me.
The floor is so creaky. Itās kind of annoying. It would have been cooler if the house was super silent and then something loud happened, but I guess not with this stupid creaky floor. Way to ruin the moment, house. Way to ruin the moment.
The stairs are still intact, which is a strange Youād think after so long of being rained on the stairs would have collapsed. Oh well, fine by me. Means I get to go upstairs. Maybe Iāll find a ghost. Ha. Yeah right.
All the doors upstairs are open. The rooms inside are dark. I should have brought a better flashlight. Itās ok though. Iāll just take a quick peek in one of these rooms. I step inside and the door suddenly closes. Seriously? Thatās the best you got? I turn towards the door and twist the handle. I was expecting it to be locked, but it wasnāt. Strange. Arenāt the doors usually locked in a situation like this?
I open the door and Iām blinded by light. As I peek outside, the house is no longer destroyed. In fact, it looks really nice and fancy. Thereās a red rug on the floor, which isnāt dusty at all. In fact, the floor is really shiny. So are the walls. And everything else around me. Thereās fancy oil paintings hanging on the walls and plants inside of vases near the corners.
This is a weird turn. I donāt know any horror movies like this. Maybe Iām dreaming? I step out of the room and close the door. No reason to be rude. I head towards the stairs and slowly go down. The stairs are also clean, and they donāt look like theyāre about to fall apart. As I head to the front door, I pass by what I guess is the dining room. I stop when I notice three people sitting at a table.
They all turn and smile at me. A little creepy, but maybe thatās just me. The man at the end of the table reaches a hand out and does that little ācome hereā motion that pisses me off whenever my parents do it because itās really annoying. But this doesnāt piss me off. Instead, I feel kind of happy. I take short strides and sit down in a chair on the opposite side of the little boy sitting at the table, right beside the man who called me forward.
I look down at the food on the table. The food looks super good, and I feel really hungry. Thatās strange, I ate dinner at home. Maybe Iām just hungry because it smells so good. I start to eat and soon I feel really tired. Itās strange though. I had so much adrenaline from sneaking out that I thought I couldnāt feel tired, but now I feel like I could sleep forever.
I let my head droop slightly and I close my eyes for a moment. Everything feels light. I donāt think it has been that long, and yet as I open my eyes, I realize Iām in a different room now. Itās a bedroom thatās as brightly decorated as the rest of the house. I look around for a moment before the door opens. The people I had seen in the dining room walk in and stare at me.
Itās a little creepy, and I feel very uncomfortable, so I try to stand so I could leave. As soon as I do, though, the little boy stepped towards me and paused. I hesitated, and the boy took another step forward, then launched himself at me. I blinked and he disappeared from my sight. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I tried to turn around, but something sharp sunk into my neck. I felt immediate pain and I screamed out.Ā
My neck felt like it was being torn in half. I hear and crunch and finally turn around to see the boy standing with a chunk of bleeding flesh in his mouth. I bring my hand up to where he bit and I feel something wet. I donāt want to look, so I donāt move my hand, but I can still feel the pain. Iām already trying my best to stay upright and not pass out from the pain, but the sensation of my hand touching the inside of my neck makes me freak out more than I probably should.
The boy starts to chew on the chunk of flesh and I can see his throat move as he swallows it. I force down the bile rising up my throat and turn to the others in the room. They smile creepily and lick their lips. Oh shit, what the hell kind of tongue is that?! Itās too long to be human, and itās fucking yellow!Ā
I need to calm down. Iām swearing and that means Iām freaking out. I feel myself get lightheaded and I notice the room sort of swirling. The color in the walls fades and the light dims to nothing. Now the house looks the same as when I first came in. Fuck this, what kind of horror movie bullshit is this?! I bolt towards the two adults near the door and push one of them over before I run out the door.
I can hear footsteps, but theyāre light and donāt sound like theyāre moving quickly. I should be fine. Iāll have to explain this situation to my parents, but Iām more worried about not dying right now.Ā
As I make it to the stairs - were they this far away before? - I stop. The stairs are gone. Theyāre fucking gone. How the fuck do stairs disappear? I turn around and notice the family is slowly getting closer. Fucking horror movie walks. I hate this place. I need to think. Think, think, think. Shit. What should I do?
The only windows on this floor are behind them. I donāt want to jump down the stairs, I could break an ankle or something on the uneven floor. My phone! Of course! I pull out my phone and hesitate. I was about to call my parents, but 911 would be better. Even if I canāt fully explain everything, at least I could get help.
Iām about to dial the number when I feel a hand push on my stomach. I look up and see the boy again. He smiles and pushes harder, making me lose my balance and fall over the ledge where the stairs were. I donāt scream. Iām too tired to scream.Ā
As I hit the bottom, I can feel sharp wooden pieces pierce my back, not deep enough to hurt too badly, but enough to prick the skin. A larger piece of wood skewers through my already present gaping neck wood. I canāt breathe now. All I can feel is pain. I close my eyes for a moment to feel some peace in the darkness, then I see something bright past my eyelids.
I open my eyes and squint. Thereās a bright light above me. The light moves and I can see the boy standing above me holding my phone. Heās shining my phone flashlight at me. He does that stupid creepy smile he seems to love, then reaches down and places his hand on my chest, pushing me down further onto all the wooden pieces. Iām so used to the pain now that it feels numb.Ā
I wish I could have told my parents what I was doing. Maybe if I hadn't snuck out and did what they said, I wouldnāt have gone here at all. Then I wouldn't be in this situation thinking this stuff. Oh well. Looks like Iām actually experiencing death. So this is how it feels, huh? Itās kind of nice, actually.
(I watched a terrible horror movie before this and wanted to make a story with a smart character, but I think I failed)
0 notes
Text
Story #29
Snatch
Dear reader, I implore you to read this fully. I am here to tell you of the horrors of Philly Mulls Elementary School. You may not have heard of this school, and for good reason. It is hidden, only to be found by those who have nowhere else to go.Ā
People wander, as you know, and when they do, they find Philly Mulls Elementary School. Very few people find it, and none have ever come back from it. When anyone above the age of ten finds it, they immediately disappear. The school does not accept them. If someone of the age of ten or below happens to wander by, it will accept them and show them to the entrance.
They go inside the long, blank halls. They will walk and walk, soon finding a corner to turn. They will see a lone door which will house a classroom of white walls and a single chalkboard in front of desks filled with children. Something will be written on the chalkboard that the students must do. Of course, the new person will be confused, unsure of what to do, but will eventually fall into the lines of what the others do. You will soon learn why this school is the way it is.
It feels as though theyāve worked for hours. Their stomachs will feel as though it was eating itself. When the first stomach rumble can be heard, a scream will sound. They will be surprised and scared, but upon seeing the other children leaving, they will follow. They always follow.Ā
The students walk in a straight line, moving as a machine into another blank room. On the door entering the room it will say cafeteria on a wall. There will be bowls of red soup already at the tables and the students will disperse to different tables. The only open seat will be at an abandoned table, which is where the new student will sit. They will not know what the soup is, but will be too hungry to waste it
Once finished with eating, they will look around and find the other students gone, their food left untouched. In a panic, they stand and walk out of the cafeteria. They will be confused, of course, and will walk around, soon finding themselves in a library.Ā
No books will be on the shelves, of course not. In their place are hands. The fingers face outwards, gripping onto the shelves. This new site will cause the new student to panic and quickly leave the library, finding themselves outside. The other children will be there, and they will be relieved.
They will be invited by another child. āCome play hide-and-seek.ā Unknowing of anything, they will accept and run to hide in the woods with the other children. There are many hiding places in the woods, but none of them seem good enough. They will wander deeper into the woods, wandering and wandering and wandering. Forever wandering.
The End
ā¦
Orā¦
After they cannot see much further ahead of themselves because of the darkness, they will find a tree with a hole perfect for their size. It is always the perfect size. They will climb inside, sure that they are hidden.
Once they get comfortable, they will be snatched away. They will scream out as they are dragged further into the tree by hands hidden in the darkness. They will fight back. They always do and they always fail to get away. Then, they will be let go.
Yet again, they will be confused, unsure of where they are or what to do. They will feel something snap. It could be a leg or an arm, but it is never broken in the same place as the last. They will scream out so loud it can be heard in the classroom.Ā
Crumpled to the ground in pain, they will continue screaming. It will end soon though. They will be looking forward, but in a split-second, they will be seeing behind them self. Darkness fades in soon. The pain does not last.
I have made this loop happen many times. I want it to continue. All of these screams and bits of fear feed me. I have made the perfect machine. The only thing I must do myself is snatch them away in the woods.Ā
(a friend said they didn't like the first ending, so I added a second one. They didn't like that one either)
0 notes
Text
Story #28
See
Momma and Pa donāt see them. Theyāre blind. They donāt see the things all around them. The things that haunt us. I see them, though. Iām not blind. Theyāre everywhere. Watching. Waiting. I donāt know what they want. Momma says I have a big imagination. Pa says Iām crazy.
Momma wants me to make friends. Sheās blind. She doesnāt see what they are. The smoke that rises from them and the red eyes that they see from. They see me, I see them, but why donāt they see each other?Ā
Pa took me to a ballet class. The teacher scares me. Sheās got black eyes, not red. She stares with those big black eyes and her wide smile. Her teeth are sharp, like the Big Bad Wolfās. I told Pa I donāt want to go back. He yelled at me.
Theyāre getting bigger. The smoke is hard to breathe through. I tell Momma, and she yells at Pa. He yells back. The smoke gets darker. Their eyes are turning white. I donāt want to talk to them anymore. They think somethingās wrong with me.
I talked to a therapist today. He had orange eyes. He had no smoke. His smile wasnāt sharp. It was smooth and kind. I tell him about all the smoke and how I canāt breathe. He talks to Pa. He came back with bigger smoke. Pa yelled at me later.
My teacher was worried. Sheās kind. Her eyes are normal, she has no smoke. I can breathe around her. Sheās not blind either. She doesnāt see like I do, but she understands. She asked about the paint on my arms and legs. I told her Momma and Pa put them there because I was being bad.Ā
Teacher isnāt here anymore. Another is here instead. Heās scary. Brown eyes and sharp teeth. His claws are sharp. He could tear paper with them. He yells too much. I canāt breathe in class anymore. Pa is glad the teacher was replaced. Momma says I shouldnāt miss her too much. She set a bad example.Ā
I canāt breathe. Itās too much. Everytime I eat, I feel sick. Mommaās eyes are fully white now. Paās have been white for a long time. The house is full of smoke. How do they not notice? I stay outside now in my tree. Tree is kind to me. Tree has no smoke or eyes or teeth.
It hurts to move sometimes. The paint is spreading. Tree soothes me. Tree used to, at least. Pa said I spend too much time outside. I told him about Tree and how kind it was. Momma put paint on my face. Pa cut Tree down. I cried. Pa gave me a paper cut.
I took a bath. Itās been a while. Momma said I was smelling. The water was red. I thought it was pretty. When I was finished, Pa was in my room waiting. He said I had been good lately. He said he was going to give me a treat.
An officer came to the house today. He had normal eyes. No smoke. No teeth. No claws. He cleared some smoke from the house. I like him. He asked about my paint and paper cuts. I said Momma and Pa gave them to me. He asked what else they did. Pa yelled at him and he left.
I snuck out of the house. I wanted to find the officer. Iām having trouble breathing. I feel weak. I found him after the sun went away. He took me to his work place. Itās nice there. No smoke. No eyes. Everything is so warm. My house is always cold.
They brought my Momma and Pa to the work place. They were in trouble. The smoke covered everything so quickly. They yelled and yelled and yelled. They let me see Momma and Pa. I was in trouble. They took me home after. The officer told me to come back if they gave me any more paint or paper cuts again. He said to not let Pa give me treats anymore.
I canāt breathe. Everything is dyed red. Itās blurry. The smoke is everywhere. Pa is angry. Momma is mad at me. Pa keeps kicking and kicking and hitting and hitting. Thereās a sound. Itās loud. Iām tired. Iām going to sleep.
Iām in the police station. Momma and Pa were taken like the teacher. Officer was there. He said I couldnāt see them anymore. Iām not sad. I could breathe again. He said Iād need a new family. I asked if he would be my brother. He said yes. He said no more paint or paper cuts or treats. No more eyes or claws or smoke. He said Iād be happy again. I finally see as Iām supposed to.
(one of the only stories I have with a genuine happy/non-cliffhanger ending)
0 notes
Text
Story #27
School
I once heard about this school that was lost in the woods, but that was only a story. A simple fable to keep children away from the forest. It was similar to how parents used the boogeyman to keep their children in bed, except when you grew up, you still believed in the school.
We were being dumb high school kids. We had a party near the woodās edge. Being dumb high school students, someone started the dare to venture as far into the woods as possible. Not being any smarter than the others, I agreed.
We went in groups. I was with two other boys and a girl. It reminded me of a horror film, like the ones where the girl cowers behind a boy. We hadnāt even gotten that far when the girl gave up and went back. It was only me and the two other boys.
We didnāt say anything to one another. It was like an unspoken rule to not speak. It felt as if we said anything, something would hunt us down.Ā
The taller boy ahead of me stopped, and I ran into him. I looked ahead of him and saw a stone structure. It was covered in vines, but looked brand new otherwise. The shorter boy was walking away, so I followed him, the one I had run into hot on my heels.
The front of the building had glass doors. They werenāt shattered. In fact, they looked as if they were just put in. It was like they had just been polished. We, being idiots, decided to go inside the strange building.Ā
It was dark and damp on the inside, with many rooms lining the walls. āThis is a school.ā I murmured. āWell, no duh Sherlock. We arenāt idiots.ā The tall boy shouted. The sound echoed through the empty halls, bouncing off the clean, new looking walls.
We didnāt move for a moment. I was the first to make a move. As soon as I heard the sound of glass cracking, I ran further into the school. Something was chasing us, but I didnāt want to look. āWhat is it?!ā I asked while continuing to run. āLooks like a wolf!ā One of the boys said.Ā
I forced myself to look back, and sure enough, it was a wolf. A massive wolf. As tall as us. It pounced on the boy closest to it, which happened to be the shorter one. I tripped and fell to the ground, wide-eyed as the wolf opened its mouth and took the boy's head in its jaws, quickly closing them, causing the skull to crack and break, spilling blood all over the floor.Ā
The tall boy grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the wolf that was preoccupied with tearing apart the body in front of it. There was a loud bang from the direction we were running, so the boy dragged me into the closest room and closed the door.Ā
It was some kind of office, dark like the rest of the building, but it had an eerie feeling. I wandered around while the boy blocked the door. There was a chair on the other side of the desk that was knocked over. When I went to grab it, I saw a body bound to the chair.Ā
The bodyās head was twisted the other way, its legs were missing, and all of its fingers were broken. There was dry blood all over the floor, and the stomach had been cut open, revealing the bodyās organs. I instinctively took a step back, unable to bear the putrid odor coming from the long rotted body.Ā
I turned to tell the boy blocking the door about the body, but he was gone. The door was still closed, and I hadnāt heard it open, so he couldnāt have left. Near the door was a journal, this journal, actually.
It said to write down all that I wished to forget, so I started writing about today, but the writing disappeared. Having watched lots of horror movies, I bit my finger and began writing in blood. Iām hopeful this will work. I donāt want to remember today.Ā
You have said what you wish to forget, which we shall grant. In return, you must lead three people to this place every year, which you will do whether you notice or not. This is the pact. You have signed. You found this place. Now, your soul will never leave.
(I made this story on a dare. You can tell I was stressed for ideas)
0 notes
Text
Story #26
Rush
This is why I donāt trust people. They always lie and say itāll be fine. They say it wonāt be as bad as they say. They always say theyāll stay with you even when it goes to shit and thereās nothing to do but ride it out. Those liars.
I really shouldnāt have agreed. I guess thatās on me. I still think itās their fault for this, though. They said on the news that this stuff was dangerous. But does anybody listen? Nope! They simply think that it looks like fun, and then they go off the deep end. Then somebody else thinks it looks cool and tries it to.
And now here I am. Sitting in this uncomfortable, itchy, ugly purple chair that squeaks every time I move. I have no idea how old this thing is. Probably as old as this house.Ā
Itās called the Mange House. Itās where the druggies go to get hits of Amenonine or Celafione or Flurino. Iām no stranger to it. Iāve been multiple times. Usually Iāll find some other druggies passed out from their recent trip or some new guy being consoled by a resident druggie to try something new.
I thought Iād only be the new guy once. Yet, here I sit in this ugly purple chair after trying Menoxine. I remember how crazy everyone got once Menoxine got out. Everyone was hearing stories of people having the most insane trips, and sometimes theyād end up going crazy. Thereās even been a reported suicide caused by a bad trip of Menoxine.
Sure, Iāve tried the Praying Drug (Amenonine), and Iāve tried Tuba (Celafione), and Iāve had Toothpaste (Flurino) once, but I did my best to stay away from Death Rush (Menoxine) as best as I could. I was a druggie, sure, but I wanted to be alive to maybe feel the joy of finally getting away from drugs.
Yet here I sit, in this itchy chair, my hands feeling numb, my ears ringing. I watch as the room swirls around. It makes me dizzy. I wish one of my friends had stayed, but I guess they wouldnāt want to be around if I went crazy. It makes sense, I guess.
I feel like Iām going to puke. The room is spinning too fast. The swirls are getting larger and faster and closer and it feels like theyāre going to engulf me. I stand up quickly and rush to the window in the room, slamming it open and puking my guts out onto a bush outside. Iām hopeful nobody was living in that bush.
I remain still for a moment once my stomach has finished convulsing. I can still taste whatever came up. Tastes like the ramen I had for lunch. Disgusting. Yet, It makes me hungry.Ā
I hear a banging on the door. Nobody makes sounds that loud in the Mange House. It can affect the trips. That means this is someone new. It has to be the cops. Thereās nobody else that would come into the Mange House banging around. Iām not taking my chances getting caught.
I swing my legs through the window and push off, falling down from the second story window into the bush I had just puked into below. I roll forward, like they do in action movies, but instead of rolling all the way forward and coming out of the jump like an awesome hero, I roll straight onto my shoulder right into the puke.
Something in my shoulder snaps. It hurts like hell. My arm is numb now. I yell out in pain. Damn, it hurts. I hear yelling from around me. It sounds like someone shouting my name. I see spots of flashing lights. Itās the police again!Ā
I stumble to my feet, feeling my shirt soaked from the puke I rolled into, but I ignore it and take off running. I run into a nearby forest. How long has there been a forest by the Mange House? Doesnāt matter, I have to keep running. If my foster parents found out Iād been doing drugs again, theyād probably send me back into the system.
Everythingās moving so fast. The trees feel like theyāre moving towards me. I dodge and weave as best as I can. They tear through the ground and roar as I swerve around them, continuing to run on and on. Iām out of breath, but the adrenaline keeps me going.
I can hear sirens. Damn, the cops must really want to get me. I finally make it out of the moving forest and see a lake ahead. It seems narrow, so swimming across should be quick, but itās wide enough that driving around it would take too long. Thereās no way the cops would follow me into the water, and by the time they made it around the lake or even got boats to get across, Iād be long gone.
I stop just before the edge of the cliff over the lake. I turn back to see the cops racing towards me and the trees from the forest plowing through the ground to follow. I turn forward again and jump. Itās a longer fall than I anticipated, but there doesnāt seem to be any rocks at the bottom, so I should be safe when I hit the water.
Thereās a loud thud, and my ears are ringing. My entire body is in pain, but thereās liquid underneath me. The lake is gone, and I can only see gray. Thereās sirens in the background, some car horns, and plenty of shouting. I slowly close my eyes. I hear my stomach growl. Iām really hungry.
My stomach growls again, but it has a voice now. ā... just jumped! Running in front of cars, acting like an insane person! Are they dead?ā What a strange thing to say stomach. Whoās dead? Who jumped? What are you talking about?
I feel myself being moved from the liquid beneath me. I donāt want to open my eyes. It hurts too much. I donāt want to move. It hurts too much. I donāt want to breathe anymore. It hurts too much. The darkness I see behind my eyelids is peaceful. So, I go towards the darkness.Ā
(this is one of my favorites that I've ever written)
0 notes
Text
Story #25
Pen
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā My arm still moves, despite my situation. I can still write this final warning. I hope I can make it detailed enough before my arm is no longer useful. Although, maybe my eyes will stop working first. It is difficult to tell. It is also difficult to think, what with this pain.
I stopped feeling my legs a while ago. They were the first to be killed, I should say. Now that I think about it, maybe my heart will stop next. Will it be painful? I hope not. Although, pain may do me well. It will remind me of my stupidity.Ā
I suppose I should elaborate, then. I got distracted. I would apologize, but that would take too much time. Too much paper.Ā
For those that journey into the woods of Limano, be warned of the 6-legged beats who never tire of the chase. Know of the man-sized birds who swoop at the first sight of movement. Know of the bugs who bite without sound.Ā
I warn you now, and if you fail to heed this warning, you will be like me. Stuck in the jaws of a fiend who strikes without warning. No feeling in my legs, unable to struggle, barely able to write a few sentences.Ā
I am lucky to have found a pen that works. It was stuck in the maw of the slippery beast who holds me captive. Perhaps from a previous victim? How strange, another person out in the forest that has just been discovered.
Now is no time for a history lesson I suppose. This is a life or death situation. I am too calm. Perhaps a poison the beast gives its victims? So interesting.Ā
My other arm has gone numb. I suppose I am down to my last moments. My last few words will be dedicated to supporting science. I hereby name this creature the 5 Toothed Death Snake, as it has 5 fangs. One of which is buried in my back as of this moment. Perhaps that is what is making me numb. It isnāt near my spine, so it has to be poison, not nerve damage.
Perhaps I have a chance of escape if I can stop the poison spread. I could snap it off, and perhaps the numbness will slowly go away. The snake may feel it, but Iām certain I can escape by stabbing its stomach with this pen.Ā
I have snapped it off. The snake didnāt even flinch. Perhaps it has no nerves inside of its mouth? Strange. I am bleeding, yet I canāt feel it. I cannot see my legs. I do hope they arenāt digested now.
My legs! They burn! The digestive fluid
Itās reached my stomach
I cannot breathe
I feel only pain
But I will escape
I must struggle!
I will escape and write my escapades on these papers!
This pen shall document my findings!
The agony shall not stop me!
This snake will know my wrath!
I cling to life as a god that cann---
(Y'know what? This one's about as bad as Pawn.)
0 notes
Text
I'm finally on the last part.
Now I can stop obsessing over my little world for a day or so.
:3
Ok... so.... there are plenty of stereotypes in Draconia.
But only based on species, never on sex or anything like that.
Well, I guess there's stereotypes based on strength and looks for a few species.... but we'll get into that.
Ok, let's start with Avians.
Avians themselves are looked down upon by pretty much every Nirvich species, since they have no powers and they're true forms are basically giant flying chickens. However, most Nirvich species don't show their true colors that often, so it's typically only Flels and Sunwings you'll notice that look down on Avians. Nirviches see all Avians as weak because they have no powers.
Now, within the Avian subspecies themselves, there's plenty of stereotypes. Caryn are thought to all be cowards who run from fights and thieves who steal others food. Tellian are thought to be rather stupid. Fenan are thought to be hotheaded troublemakers. And Heso are thought to be overconfident assholes. Of course, these aren't always true, but Caryn have had to resort to stealing food since the beginning because they actually are terrible hunters. Now, if an Avian goes to another Land, they may be seen as easy prey or just someone to mess with for fun.
Flels are extremely bloodthirsty and fight loving beings, so most other Draconic species see them as monsters in their own right. Draconics try to steer clear of Flels at all costs, even if the Flel is kind, and will try to kill them once they enter another Land. (Though, this "killing" doesn't usually happen, as most Draconics are too afraid of Flels to actually fight them) Flels also tend to look down on other species as weak, and most Flels see others of their kind as weak, as well.
Marrows are seen as disgusting creatures because they drink bone marrow as a substitute for normal nutrients. Marrows are also seen as bloodthirsty creatures, but in reality they are very kind and caring beings. The only reason they are seen this way is because, like the Flels, they don't have feathered wings. Like Flels, other Draconics will hunt Marrows down, but unlike Flels, Draconics will not be afraid to attack and kill a Marrow.
Sunwings are seen as pretentious. And they are. They boast about themselves constantly and look down on every other Draconic species. Most Draconics will either be drawn to them because of their looks, or avoid them because of their personalities. Sunwings are the cruelest to Moonwings, as Moonwings are their opposites. Unlike how other Draconics look down on Flels and Marrows being in their Lands, Sunwings look down on any other Draconic in their land.
Moonwings are very kind creatures, but they are also seen as disgusting creatures, but for different reasons than the Marrows. Moonwings are seen as disgusting because the Sunwings tell every other species that that's what they are, a subpar species not deserving of life. Because of the Sunwings, other Draconics either pity the Moonwings or look down on them themselves. Even so, Moonwings remain a kind a caring species, like Marrows, but less killing. (Though, Marrows only kill for Leadership and protection)
Elementals are very understanding and welcoming creatures, so they have no hatred towards other Elementals. That is not to say they don't have their favorites when it comes to other Draconic species, but they don't show it. Elementals aren't too different from each other, even when they are differing subspecies. Besides the Sunwings and Flels, Elementals are pretty highly regarded.
Stairs are seen as 2nd only to the Alpha Morpha. Since Life and Death are the "Leaders" of the Stairs, there is always plenty of respect shown to Stairs, even if they actually aren't doing anything important besides serving their purpose. Because Stairs serve Life and Death with their entire body, minds, and souls, they don't form any opinions of the other species, and simply live their lives in monotonous peace.
Morphas are a mixed bunch. They are highly regarded since they are the same subspecies as the Alpha Morpha, but they take this praise in one of two ways. They are either kind and giving, and sincerely want to help others, or they act like Sunwings and think of themselves as the superior species. While this way of looking down on other species is not liked in Morpha communities, it will still happen because of the constant praise Morphas get, even from Sunwings. (But not usually Flels because Flels still think themselves above Morphas. (But not the Alpha Morpha. They learned they lesson on that one))
However, even with all this prejudice, many Draconics get along with each other in inter-species relationships, even Sunwings and Flels. While not common, there are plenty of Draconics who take a Mate from another species. It's not looked down upon, but it is difficult, as they live in different Lands, and without getting constant permission from the Guardians, they would be unable to see each other.
(This large amount of prejudice is actually why there are so many events in Draconia that allow anyone to join, so that Draconics might have a chance to get along.)
And it's done. Idk if I'll do another one of these. If I find one, maybe. Idk tho. College has me stressed rn.
Fantasy World Building: Species/ Countries,Nations, Tribes
I said in my world building checklist post I would make a separate post for this so here u go besties šš
things to consider when writing a fantasy book with different species and nationalities in it ā¼ļø
Appearance
What defines their species looks wise?
features such as nose shape, hair texture (if they even have hair), skin tones should be considered
what environment/ climate/ habitat they come from will affect their physical traits
which features are more common in them?
maybe species A are known for having super pale skin and really long, pale-almost-translucent-hair- while species B are known for tanned skin, pale slitted eyes and wild curly hair
what about other FANTASY physical features such as
wings, webbed feet and hands, slitted eyes, pointed ears, tails, clawed fingers
differenr types of THOSE features
As in different types of wings, different shapes of pointy ears, different types of tails blah blah blah
differences between their features in diff stages of life
differences between the genders
also sizes, average heights and all that jazz
Abilities
Physical and magical
lets start with physical
maybe species A are known for being quick and agile
and species B are slow and lumbering
maybe species A are super flexible
and species B are very strong
consider these points:
agility
strength
intelligence
their physical traits as well, such as allergies, resistance to certain things ect.
like how maybe some species are allergic to a certain metal
maybe some are resistant to certain diseases
maybe some donāt burn and are resistant to heat
alr now magical!
do these species have magic at all?
if so, what kind of magic? (Gonna make a separate post for magic)
is this magic woven into their physical being?
are they born with it?
Or do they learn it?
does it come to them naturally? Or do they use incantations, books, artifacts, ect? (Again, separate post for this shit)
is there certain magic they canāt do?)
Culture
Traditions
superstitions
festivals
religion
clothing styles
architecture
famous figures in their community
mythology
places of importance to them, religious or in other ways idk, for example we have Makkah for Islam
accessories
things they believe to be sacred
prejudiced beliefs
Reputation / other stuff idk
Stereotypes
are they persecuted in certain countries?
other rival religions, countries or nations
who are they looked down upon by?
what are they known for?
e.g., being kind, being bloodthirsty, being miserly, being isolated/ secretive/ elusive
how are they treated? Are they seen as a superior species/race?
Do they mix with other races when it comes to marraige, relationships, friendships, business?
thereās loads more so I might make a part two if people ask me to, hope this helped š š
88 notes
Ā·
View notes
Text
Story #24
Pawn
I donāt know where I am. I donāt know who I am. I only know my use. I am a pawn. I am a useless, tiny, insignificant pawn. I live my life in fear, never wanting to be chosen. Of course, I was chosen to be a pawn. The king didnāt exactly like me. Iām not sure why, but he just seems to hate me.
Iāve tried my best to avoid being chosen. I donāt have a family, no, but is it wrong to wish to live? I know my king has never lost, but Iāve only seen one or two pawns make it back, and that was because they never moved. I wish the king liked me. I might have been a great knight that rode a beautiful stallion, or a grand bishop. Maybe even a noble rook. Anything but a pawn.
I had been woken early that morning. I sat up to see stares from the other pawns I slept and ate beside. I knew that look. It was one I had given too often. I had been chosen. I was soon forced outside of my cold home. It had been so long since I had been outside. It was so pretty last time.Ā
Outside was a wasteland. Full of trash and void of life. War had led this land to die out. Itās amazing how we survived. It was only a quick glance before I was forced inside the castle, but it was enough to realize just how much we had ruined. It was enough to see how selfish we were, how much we craved to have everything.
The inside of the castle was warm, a big difference from my crowded home. It was lined with clean brick as well, making me realize how little we cleaned our own home. I saw a few other pawns that I knew, but what truly drew my attention was the grand knight. Oh, how Iād wished as a child to be a knight. To be praised by the land as a great warrior. To have a mighty steed to ride upon.
Quickly, my armor was thrown on by the other pawns who noticed I was standing still. I was ushered forward, being pushed by the others behind me. The board in front of me. Blood still stained the giant board. Bodies were still being tossed aside into the void below.Ā
I hastily went to a spot for a pawn, standing in front of the left rook. I prayed I would be one of the few pawns that survived. The opposing kingdom looked eager for blood, like theyād never felt fear a day in their life. The pawn in front of me held his sword high, ready to swing and kill. I clutched my sword tightly, not wanting to kill.
The game started, my king ordering pawns forward. I was one space away from the enemy pawn. He grinned, āYouāre so scared. I canāt believe youāre even fighting. You weakling.ā Another joined in, āYouāre so useless, like scum. No, more useless than scum!ā He spat at me.
I heard my king yell above them. āPawn!ā He pointed at me, āKill the pawn to your right. Make it swift.ā I gulped and nodded. I looked towards the grinning pawn. āDo it, you could never. Scum of scum.ā I felt something in me change. I raised my sword, then brought it down swiftly.Ā
It took a moment to realize what I had done. It wasnāt until I heard the pawnās scream that I knew what I did. Most of his left side was gone. His tongue was able to be seen from the side, as was the inside of his mouth. His stomach had been cut open and its contents spilled to the ground. His blood poured around him, reaching my shoes and staining them a horrendous red.
I dropped my sword, eyes wide and staring at the screaming pawn in front of me. He fell to the ground, withering in pain. āPawn! Finish his death! We cannot wait forever!ā My king called again. I shakily picked up my sword, looking at the blood on it. Curious, I wiped some off with my finger. I looked back at my sword, seeing my reflection smiling back at me. It was like a different person. This person wanted death and blood and guts spilling on the ground. It was like this person was at a carnival, like they had just gotten a prize.Ā
I looked back at the screaming pawn. I raised my sword again, this time holding the sharp end. I brought the handle down on him, hitting him with it. I hit him again, and again, and again. Blood sprayed everywhere. The screams grew louder. I was enjoying this. I didnāt want it to end. To my dismay, the pawn died of blood loss.Ā
The board was silent, but I wanted more. Cheers were heard behind me. I turned to look at the power pieces. All were cheering for me. The knights, bishops, even the king and queen. It then all came back to me. What I just did. Why they were cheering? Why were they cheering? Why did I take that pawnās life? Why was this OK? Why? Why?
I didnāt know what to think of the world anymore. I thought people were good, but they all seemed evil. They wanted death. They wanted blood. They wanted pain. I didnāt see why, but if this is what they wanted, if this is what I needed to do to survive, I would. I didnāt want to kill. At least, I thought I didnāt. I thought I knew myself, but I didnāt. I never thought I would enjoy seeing the board run red with the blood of my victims. Itās strange what you donāt know about yourself.Ā
(This is one of my least favorite stories that I've ever written. In all honesty, I hate it. The only reason I keep it is as a reminder that I can never write anything worse than this)
0 notes
Text
Story #23
Pain
Every day I feel more tired. My body feels heavier, yet lighter. I feel weak, but my limbs are so easy to move. Iāve been losing weight. No matter how much I eat, what little Iāve been eating lately, I canāt gain weight. Yet, Iām getting no thinner.
I canāt feel when I hit my hand on anything. I canāt feel when something sharp breaks my skin. I canāt feel when the temperature outside changes anymore. I only feel nothing. Thatās the only way I can describe it. Iām alive, I can feel happy and sad, but itās like my nerves arenāt working anymore.
I can feel it when I move. Iām still aware of where my limbs are and what Iām doing with them. I just canāt feel when something else interacts with me. Itās like I'm numb to the world around me. I can still taste and hear and see and all that, but I just canāt feel.
Iāve seen doctors about this. They say theyāve seen nothing exactly like what I have. Iāve been told Iām probably just getting older. Maybe Iām developing a disease. The doctors have no clue what theyāre talking about. Every time I go to them, itās always a different excuse for not actually wanting to see whatās wrong with me. Now, I canāt afford to go to a doctor anymore.
I was too scared to go into work, so I was fired. Now I have no source of income. Iām running low on everything. I have to live off of barely any food, which is why Iām kind of thankful for the lessening appetite. My internet has been turned off and Iām about to lose my electricity.Ā
Iāve been turning to methods of calming myself that I used to look down upon. Now, my arms are like a piece of wood, lines carved into it, almost looking like a pattern if you look hard enough. Yet, I still canāt feel any of it. I only feel the lightheadedness that comes with the blood loss.
However, lately Iāve been feeling lightheaded all the time. It feels like Iām always bleeding, even when I know Iām not. Thereās no open wounds anywhere,Ā yet I feel like Iām running out of blood.Ā
My electricity did eventually get turned off, and I feel like I lost some of my sanity in that moment. I took the nearest object, my pen as I was writing this, and stabbed it into my leg. No pain, no blood. I get angrier. I slide the blade down my leg, creating a large gash as it cuts my skin apart, splitting like ripping a leaf apart.
I pull the knife away and sigh. Only a few drops of blood drip from the gash. I look closer. Thereās white inside my leg. It should be red, but itās white. I dig my finger into the gash, gripping at whatever the hell is in my leg. I can see my fingers have grabbed it, so I pull.
A white cloth-like material is slowly pulled out of my leg. It looks like a long rag. I keep pulling and pulling and it keeps coming. One end of it comes out, coming from the end of the gash leading to my foot. Itās then that the blood starts to come. It rushes up through the gash, pouring from my leg and dripping onto the floor, making a large puddle beneath my chair.
I can feel it now. The immense pain of the gash. I can finally feel! I pull harder on the cloth, starting to pull it from the other side. Blood streams out of the side as well as I continue to pull the cloth. I notice that some of the blood is soaked up by the cloth, but it remains a pristine white.
I can feel the pain returning to my body slowly. It crawls up my leg, going through my lower section and reaching down my other leg. Shit. It hurts. It really fucking hurts. But I missed this pain. I keep going. I keep pulling. More blood spills out. I move my foot on the floor and it slips, making me fall out of my chair onto my back.
I lay in the blood, still pulling on the rag. I could feel myself hit the floor. I wish I could keep falling and hitting the floor. I missed feeling this. Feeling absolutely anything. I pull and pull. Blood keeps spilling onto the floor, but I donāt care. Iām only still moving my hands and ignoring the pain because I canāt focus past the lightheadedness.
I start losing focus. My head is pounding. It hurts. It hurts a lot. But I donāt care. I can feel something again. I donāt know what this cloth was doing inside of me, but Iām glad I got it out. But, now I canāt see the cloth. I can only see the darkness coming in through the edges of my vision. I donāt feel myself breathing anymore. I canāt feel the blood pooling below me. I canāt feel... anything. I canāt feel anything again. Damn it.
(my entire idea I had written down for this story for about 2 months was "person stuffed with paper towels.")
0 notes
Text
I was gonna do part 3 yesterday, but procrastination's an ass so I'm doing it now.
So, let's just go down the bullet points as best as we can.
Draconics don't have traditions outside of family ones.
Superstitions aren't common, but also are mainly kept in a family type thing or among those who are close.
There are actually several "festivals" in Draconia. The Grasslands has The Games, where a bunch of Draconics get together and do a whole bunch of activities for fun. (It's one of the few times that Nirviches are let into the Grasslands) The Drylands holds The Feast, which is really a Flel only event where they spend a day hunting the weakest Flels for food. The Bonelands holds The Gathering, which any species can take part in, thought it's mainly Marrows who do it, and all participants bring together a bunch of food and then they feast together. The Sun's Home hold The Shine, which is a Sunwing only event where they all get together and decide who they believe has the shiniest stuff (though, usually nobody wins because the Sunwings always say their stuff is the shiniest). The Moon's Domain holds The Hunt, which any Draconic can participate in, and while it sounds very like they hunt for something, in reality each participant is given a stone, and the goal of the game is to gather as many stones from other people as possible, and whoever has the most at the end win. Elementals have The Show, where the Elementals get together and show off their skills to anyone who wants to watch. Morphas have The Flight, where anyone who wants to participate gets together and just has fun flying through the sky with a bunch of other Draconics. Each of these festivals happens at a different point in time, and only one festival happens per Cicle. It goes in the order I just described, so The Games happens, then the next Cicle it's The Feast, then the next Cicle is The Gathering, and so on. Usually, during an event with a winner, the winner gets food. (You'll notice that the Stairs doesn't have a "festival." That's because Angels and Archangels entire lives are devoted simply to serving Life and Death.)
Religion doesn't really exist in Draconia, as Draconics follow their Leaders, Pure Leader, Life and Death, and the Alpha Morpha.
The only clothing in Draconia is Wrrap, and Draconics always wear it around their chests. They can also wear it around their arms, legs, stomachs, or anywhere they choose. While most Draconics aren't big on jewelry, some keep trophies of kills on their bodies. (Such as teeth or claws). Though, this is looked down upon as Draconics like to use every part of a prey's body.
Architecture differs from Land to Land. Avians tend to live in small huts made of grass, and the Grasslandian School is the only building made of stone. Flels live in above-ground caves that they usually engrave messages on, and Marrows live in under-ground caves. Sunwings build homes out of shiny materials, while Moonwings make homes out of whatever materials they can find. (These materials are usually dark colored) Elementals don't really have architecture or homes, as they live in whatever is naturally in their Lands. Stairs have thrones, but those are for Life and Death, and they have gardens which they grow plants from, but otherwise, they don't have any architecture or homes. Morphas live in enormous houses made from stone and colorful rocks with plenty of decorations. The Castle is made from the same materials, and looks similar to most castles found on Earth.
The only famous figures in Draconia are the Leader, Pure Leaders, Life and Death, and the Alpha Morpha. While the Leaders and Pure Leaders are only important to their species, Life and Death and the Alpha Morpha are important to everyone.
Draconia doesn't really have mythology.
All of the places circled on the map before are important to Draconics, or at least the species in that Land. The Grasslandian School is a place where Avians (and some Nirviches) go to learn about how to survive. The Castle is where the Alpha Morpha lives and makes any important decisions. The Stairs are the only way to get to Up and Down. The Pit is where Flel's fight for Leadership, and it's where the bodies of the losers end up (since they aren't eaten, as they are seen as weak and useless, most Flels wouldn't see them as good food). The Pile is where Marrows store food they wish to share with others who cannot get enough food. The Wall is what seperates the Sun's Home and the Moon's Domain. And the Crystal is where the Elemental Pure Leader lives and makes decisions.
The only sacred place is behind The Castle, and that's because that's where the Alpha Morpha sends off the souls of the dead and makes their bodies into Wrrap for their family.
And I'll do stereotypes and prejudice in the next one cause this is long and I'm tired.
(I did just think of something else a few days later I forgot to add. There's a major cultural thing involving the sides of the body. Because of the scars on the Alpha Morpha's shoulders, for when Death and Life's bodies have been destroyed because that's where their souls can rest until they are ready to be born again, with Death on the left and Life on the right, how you greet and say goodbye to others differs. With someone close, you always use your right side, as you wish them Life. With someone you're an enemy with, you use your left side, wishing them Death. For strangers, it can be seen as extremely rude or confrontational to use your left side. For mourning those who have died, you put your hands together near the middle of your chest, then slowly move the left hand up and the right hand down. This is representative of the dead Draconic's transition from life to death.)
(That was a ramble, I apologize)
Fantasy World Building: Species/ Countries,Nations, Tribes
I said in my world building checklist post I would make a separate post for this so here u go besties šš
things to consider when writing a fantasy book with different species and nationalities in it ā¼ļø
Appearance
What defines their species looks wise?
features such as nose shape, hair texture (if they even have hair), skin tones should be considered
what environment/ climate/ habitat they come from will affect their physical traits
which features are more common in them?
maybe species A are known for having super pale skin and really long, pale-almost-translucent-hair- while species B are known for tanned skin, pale slitted eyes and wild curly hair
what about other FANTASY physical features such as
wings, webbed feet and hands, slitted eyes, pointed ears, tails, clawed fingers
differenr types of THOSE features
As in different types of wings, different shapes of pointy ears, different types of tails blah blah blah
differences between their features in diff stages of life
differences between the genders
also sizes, average heights and all that jazz
Abilities
Physical and magical
lets start with physical
maybe species A are known for being quick and agile
and species B are slow and lumbering
maybe species A are super flexible
and species B are very strong
consider these points:
agility
strength
intelligence
their physical traits as well, such as allergies, resistance to certain things ect.
like how maybe some species are allergic to a certain metal
maybe some are resistant to certain diseases
maybe some donāt burn and are resistant to heat
alr now magical!
do these species have magic at all?
if so, what kind of magic? (Gonna make a separate post for magic)
is this magic woven into their physical being?
are they born with it?
Or do they learn it?
does it come to them naturally? Or do they use incantations, books, artifacts, ect? (Again, separate post for this shit)
is there certain magic they canāt do?)
Culture
Traditions
superstitions
festivals
religion
clothing styles
architecture
famous figures in their community
mythology
places of importance to them, religious or in other ways idk, for example we have Makkah for Islam
accessories
things they believe to be sacred
prejudiced beliefs
Reputation / other stuff idk
Stereotypes
are they persecuted in certain countries?
other rival religions, countries or nations
who are they looked down upon by?
what are they known for?
e.g., being kind, being bloodthirsty, being miserly, being isolated/ secretive/ elusive
how are they treated? Are they seen as a superior species/race?
Do they mix with other races when it comes to marraige, relationships, friendships, business?
thereās loads more so I might make a part two if people ask me to, hope this helped š š
88 notes
Ā·
View notes
Text
Story #22
Nightmare
Darkness and shouting are the first thing I hear when I open my eyes. Wait, are they even open? I blink, but I canāt tell. Itās too dark. I donāt know whatās going on. Where am I? Why is it so dark? Itās cramped. I canāt even turn onto my back. Iām uncomfortable laying on my side.
The words coming from nearby are muffled. I have no idea what is being said. I move around for a moment and feel my foot hit something solid. Whatever is in front of me is like a wall, and it doesnāt want to budge. My hands are behind my back. It feels like theyāve been tied up with the same type of rope I use at the docks.
I wriggle around and try to feel around. What Iām laying on is soft, like a mat. Everything else I feel is cold and solid. I try to move my legs up so I can move my arms from behind myself to in front of myself. As I move my hands down, I feel whatever Iām in suddenly move and I am pushed into the cool wall in front of me. I quickly get my hands in front of myself to try and push myself away.
Immediately, I recognise the feel of the cool wall. Itās metal. Iām in a car. Iām in someoneās trunk. Why? Where are we going? Why am I here? Why was I put back here?
I hear a voice come from behind me. There isnāt enough room for a second person, so I assume itās coming from whoever is inside the car.Ā
āGoing for a ride. Donāt worry. Everyone knows youāre gone. Weāve just gotta make sure that they can find something so they stop looking around.ā
I donāt speak. Iām scared that if I respond, this nightmare will never end. Yes. A nightmare. Itās all a nightmare! It just feels so real because I havenāt been getting enough sleep lately. From the underpaid hours I work to my son who seems to hate me, and those debts that my stupid dad left me that have so much interest it seems like Iāll never-
I feel my back suddenly hit the wall behind me as the car stops. I hear one of the carās door open and then slam shut. Itās too quiet now. I donāt know whatās going on. I canāt handle this anymore. I want this nightmare to end. I start to shout and scream, hoping somebody will hear me, hoping that I will wake up soon.
A bang to the roof of the trunk shuts me up. Nothing happens for a while after that. I can only hear myself breathing. The sound of my heart gets louder and louder and louder and louder and-
Another bang to the roof of the trunk makes me yelp. I want this nightmare to end. I hear something nearby. It sounds like waves. Are we near the lake? Why? Why would I possibly be brought here?
I feel something underneath me. Itās cold and itās spreading. I realize quickly itās water. I start to struggle, pulling at the ropes on my wrists and kicking the hood of the trunk. I start to bite at the ropes, trying everything I can to get them undone.
The water is rising too quickly, soon Iām almost completely engulfed and I have to struggle to keep my head where the air is. I keep kicking the hood, but it doesnāt break. It doesnāt even fucking move. What kind of dream is this?! Why canāt I wake up?!
Iām submerged shortly after that. I hold my breath for as long as I can, but I can only last so long. My lungs need air, and they force me to breathe in. Water floods my nose and mouth and quickly travels down to my lungs, making me choke and swallow more water. Iām in so much pain. My lungs are killing me.
Then, I feel nothing. Well, not nothing, but it doesnāt hurt anymore. I feel tingly and light. Iām not struggling or gasping for air anymore. I smile to myself and close my eyes. I must be waking up from this nightmare. Yeah, thatās the only explanation for this feeling. Iāll be awake soon and then Iāll get to go to work.Ā
This damn nightmare will finally end so I can go back to my life. Wait, why arenāt I waking up in my bed? Why isnāt the nightmare going away? Is it too much to ask for a nice dream for once?
(I was trying to go somewhere with this story, but I think I got lost halfway through)
0 notes