PlatinumSkink's WOTM Gallery

[PlatinumSkink]

Hello. This is PlatinumSkink.

I have been entering the WOTM for quite a while now, and I’ve won twice. So, I just thought I’d make a list of all my entries. Because I’ve written a lot of them. Some I regret, some I look at with pride, others I am entirely indifferent to. Some I think deserved to win, some were certainly outmatched. In any case. Here they are.

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WOTM #12 - Machine

At first, I was nothing. I had no consciousness. There was just this desire to do things. I wanted to act. To do. To be useful. But… I was in no condition to do any of that. I couldn’t even communicate my desire to help. Because I was nothing. I was but an idea, a formless piece of information that had appeared in a kid’s mind. Maybe that was all I was ever fated to be. The child walked around with me, taking me everywhere. From time to time, he took me out, built a few details to me, added a few ridiculous notations and removed even more, then put me back into his memory. Carrying me everywhere, he sometimes forgot me in the depths of his mind. Sometimes, though, he would be reminded of me, and he’d build a bit more on me.

Years passed, the kid grew up. I followed him every step on the way. I was on the drawings of his childhood dreams, in varying shapes. He wrote texts about me, but I was discarded for a child’s foolishness and remained in the mind. I saw the child get disheartened about me, and put me away. And yet, he could not forget me. From time to time, I was picked out among his memories to be played with. He didn’t see any hope in me ever getting further than his fantasy-like papers. I remained, and watched him grow up. He started to educate himself in techniques which to me seemed oddly fitting should he ever consider to actually create me.

The young man was in high school, doing things associated with me, when he became good friends with another of his kind. I was ever present in the young man’s life, so I guess that was what heralded what came next. He told his new friend about me. I would be turned down again. There was no use. Spreading me never had any effect in the past.

… But the friend accepted me. Suddenly, I could feel my existence spreading and covering the minds of two people. They started excitedly talking about me, they made sketches about how I would look and they discussed how I would work. I was larger than I had ever been. No longer was I merely an idea in the head of a small child, I was now a vivid plan that just might work. The two students excitedly built up my theories and my schematics. I was now a document. A paper, detailing how I was to be created. It felt… great. I finally had progress. I was growing. A future… might await me.

School ended, the two friends graduated. They separated temporarily, me always hanging on to them as a piece of information. I felt how the different pieces of me split far and wide, but they were still constructing me. They were still adding information, looking into technical details they would never have minded when they were still kids. Over the course of a number of years, I became a complete draft.

The two of them met again. It was with childish smiles and excited gleaming eyes that they shook their hands. The reason for their meeting… was me. They had come to make me real. No longer an idea, no longer a paper. I was to become real.

So they started to gather equipment and pieces, metals and components. I felt how they assigned my different parts in my plan to different physical items, and I felt how my existence spread. I was taken out of the paper, and different pieces of me were each assigned to the many small components spread throughout the workshop of the two men. Once again, I had taken an extra step. I was now physical. In pieces. I had shape, and an idea bound the different objects together to the existence that was… me. Smiling to each other, the two men set out to bind my parts together with something more powerful than just the knowledge about what was to go where.

Many long days and nights they worked. My pieces were slowly but surely being processed, my existence becoming larger and more life-like than ever. Over time, more people joined. The child I had grown up with was now a fine man and he got married over the time I was created. I saw him leave me over greater periods of time, busy with his new wife. But the friend was still with me, and he was as excited and well-versed in how I was to look. The friend brought more friends, and they took in the idea that was me and helped too. But… they were not the ones I wanted to work on me. I wanted… him.

The idea that was me filled many minds, now. And my physical shape became more compact by the week. There was no question about it. I was a project, something they had spent great money on. I was a powerful enough existence that they were willing to provide so much to make me real. But somewhere out there, the mind that had originally contained me was now filled with the face of a girl. He still thought about me at times, but he was on a trip with his beloved. I was not the first thing right now. But… I wanted to be the first thing. I guessed something as incorporeal as me could not compete with a real girl. What did it matter to me? As long as I am completed, as long as I grow more real. It shouldn’t matter, right..?

I felt small tinges of pain. They were doing something wrong. Arguments ensued. They were still working on me, but they were deviating from the schematics. They thought they were making improvements, but to me it was as if they were trying to rip my existence. In the end, of course, it didn’t work. Many of the workers left. There was nothing good coming from them anyway. The friend kept working, despite the approaching deadline. Deadline? I had such a thing? I thought… they were doing this to complete me. Not to satisfy some customer. Was I… wishing too much?

A while later, it was just the friend working, trying to find what was wrong. I was almost complete. My existence was one big thing, no parts overturned. Through sheer effort, the friend had put together the childhood companion of my original holder. Yes, me. I was one mighty construction, finally standing somewhat prepared. But something was still amiss. Something one of those other friends had done. The friend was looking for it, but to no avail. Was this… the end? The deadline was looming. I thank you for all you’ve done for me… but it is enough already. I am very happy that you’ve accepted me to this degree. That you’ve been willing to spend this much time and energy for a thing that wasn’t even yours to begin with. But… isn’t this enough? You don’t need to… force yourself…

But the man kept on. I was amazed. He truly was this determined on finishing me. He wanted me to be complete. How could I deny such vigor? He smiled to me stupidly, the same way that young child once had done when he had drawn me on a paper. I could not do anything else than accept his efforts. Maybe… if I accept him… will I be complete? But… I wanted my original founder… but maybe this guy… is alright? Could I embrace him as the one who finished me, who made the final touches and let me free? The one that completed me and showed me to the public, finally, after all these years?

Yeah, I could. But there was a solution that was even better.

A sudden flash of light announced the arrival of someone from the outside. The friend turned his head to see who had come in. It was him. My childhood creator, back from his trip with his wife in tow. So happy I was to see him. And looking up at my mighty form I saw the pride he held for me. Pride filled the man as he watched his childhood companion take form before him. Was it pride? Did he feel the same way I felt when I saw him get married? No… this was different. A different feeling. He loved his wife, but his love for me was different altogether. It would be more appropriate to see the love for me as the love for his child. Oh, and look there. The girl was pregnant. Would that maybe be my sibling, then? Or am I just thinking weird things in my great happiness of seeing him again? I don’t know. Just let me be happy.

The two men smiled at each other, and got to work together. They exchanged ideas of what might be the problem, and together they came to the most logical conclusion. I did not care that they took me apart. They were doing it to build me together again, and this time there would be no mistakes. After they had disassembled me, they exchanged a number of parts, updating me to the new times. Then… they put me together again. Piece by piece. All the while, happiness radiated from the bottom of my existence. The two friends made me even better, and they were giving it their all. The pregnant girl watched the two from the back, gently patting her stomach. I was becoming whole again. I was becoming complete. I was becoming complete!

Sometime later, there was a large crowd. They were here because they were to watch something. Excitedly the large crowd awaited the star of the day as they gathered on the side. An announcer was entertaining them all, but that was not the reason why they were there. It was difficult to believe this was really happening. Had I really once been but an idea in the head of my creator? In that small child drawing on paper? The amount of steps before one arrived at the point which I was now… They were so many. It seemed like an impossible development. How many of my kind ever reached this stage? It was difficult to imagine them being many. There were so many times which I could have been just forgotten, so many times I could have been scrapped and so many times that my creators could have just given up…

And yet, here I was. My creators had not forgotten, I had not been scrapped and my creators had not given up on me even when I had myself. It felt impossible, and yet I was now so happy. The announcer was getting to the end of his speech, which would mean it was soon my time to enter the stage. The glorious moment which I had reached after so many years. I was so happy. My creator was so happy. His friend, whom he too was my creator, was so happy. We were all nervous. After all, this was the first time I would be shown in public. It was time to show them what I was made of.

The signal came. The newly-wed man and his friend sat down in me and started me. Soon enough, I was ready to go. C’mon, we had done this before in the test-runs. We could do it again, no problem. Slowly but surely we approached the gates leading out to where the public could see us. Would I be able to accomplish what I was created for? Of course I would, stupid me. Who did I think had created me?

I came out into the light, and people applauded. Was I really that impressive? Gosh, you’re embarrassing me. Or maybe it was just that they had heard so much about me. Ah, yes. I felt it. I could feel how far my idea had spread throughout the minds of the world. It was all over the globe now. I had stopped sensing my existence in the idea-stage when it had grown too massive, now I could only properly feel myself in my own form. But if I carefully tried to sense… yes, the idea that was me was all around. It was contained in so many people. Now, I was truly immortal. But, at the same time, I was only here. My body was only the creation which was now rolling before all these people. Now was the time… to give them a taste of a show they would never forget.

And so I turned, on my creators command that he gave me as he was controlling me from inside me. Then he made me gain speed. And then… after a while… I lifted.


Many years has now passed since this happened. My creator and his friend are long dead. I owe them so much, and love them with my whole being. I am now an everyday tool. I fly people to their desired locations, and I’m used by hundreds and thousands. In time, maybe they will forget my creators. Or maybe the memory of them will remain. I don’t know. What I do know is that I am immortal by now, and as long as I exist in the mind of even a single human, my memory of those people will forever remain. That much is for sure. And so, with cheerful memories of my success and of how many people I’ve helped, I continue to support people all over the world. It would never have been possible had it not been for those two.

I now continue my goal to help humanity, and be useful. I thank those two. I am ever grateful. I hope they know, should they be in heaven or wherever, that through me they have done this world… a huge service…

This was the first entry I entered this competition with, and it still stands as one of the examples of what I am capable of. I definitely think this text is an achievement, even though it didn’t win. The praise it was awarded confirmed to me that I truly do have the ability to write. As such, it holds a very personal value to me, and I treasure it for what it is. It was my step into the world of writing-competitions, where I now today feel quite at home. Thanks for that.

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AOTM & WOTM Collab (with artist wXw) - Childhood

<--I specify that this was made by wXw, and the story was made to accommodate the image.

A world in peril. A world of a white sky, green fortresses and a never-ending plain of lush colorful green grass. A normally peaceful world that now was on the verge of destruction. Like always.

The monster had appeared out of nowhere, as if it was simply supposed to be. As if it had been a necessity for the monster to appear. It appeared to change size depending on what it was close to, as if shaped to fit into something. It shined bright orange, the small body put off by the exceedingly large mouth, adorned with a few oversized teeth which were mere extensions of the monster’s mouth. The humongous teeth which were too large for the creature were stained with blood for the necessity of looking grim and not because it had ever killed anyone. Without trouble it could tear down any wall, bite through any matter and emerge untouched from any attack. Any attack not made by that man.

To defend the world from the monster was a single man. He held no backup, no armor, his blue shirt the only thing he wore and the blade of his sword was shorter than his face. This was nothing strange, however, as everyone from this place had that size of their heads. Their legs and arms were nothing but thin lines, and their equipment replaced their four-fingered hands. But, there was only this one. He stood there, not because he needed to. No king had commanded him to be there. No wizard foretold of his coming. This was no collaborated effort to stop the monster; no genius plan was in motion. The man wasn’t even there by his own free will. It was just how it had to be, this one man was forever destined to face off against this very monster. It was the only way the world existed.

The intelligent monster which had entered the world from need to be rather than from a location looked at its opponent and accepted it. The monster which destroyed because that was its purpose found a greater purpose in fighting this man. The man felt the same, holding up his tiny blade. This battle was the single one reason both of them existed. The defense of the castle in the background was but an excuse, the birds in the sky merely a backdrop. Everything of this world centered around this battle which was about to unfold. All else had merely been put there to put meaning into the battle, but do not mistake it, the battle was all that mattered. This battle was the purpose of this world. On an endless field of green grass beneath the humongous sky of white, the battle began.

But yet it did not. In a way, it could never. Because would the battle end, the world would end. They were to fight forever. There was no sun in the white sky that could the end the day, no amount of effort could make the competitors tired. The menacing monster with teeth drenched in blood had never killed anything before, because it existed only for this battle. The small human defended only his right to exist; he never really was defending the castle. It was only to the viewer that it seemed like so. The sword could never wound the monster, because the mind who created the battle didn’t like wounds. Neither would the monster chew the man, as the man was an immortal hero, made a such by a fantasy. A fantasy which created this world.


‘I hope you are so quiet because you are staring in awe at an e-mail saying you got a new job!’

The uninvited voice of a guardian shook him mercilessly out of his imagination. The lazy eyes of this older man refocused again on the room in front of him. Things were lying everywhere. Clothes scrapped around. There was signs of but a half-hearted attempt at order in the shelves filled with months upon months if paperwork. The couch was dirtied by having had food spilt on it countless times. Candy-paper was lying untouched since who knows how long all over the room. And yet, it was the room he had to call his own… And on the desk, there was the one little drawing he had found beneath a paycheck from last year…

It was an ordinary drawing. A drawing made by a much younger him, far less troubled than he was now. Grunting, the man threw off his visions from the past, clearing the signs of fantasy from his mind. Today… he had to stay in the real world. It had been no accident he had found it today. It was because he had started cleaning today. The troubles had gathered above him, collecting and looming as he kept ignoring them. No more. He could not take it. Finally, two days ago, the misery of doing nothing had overwhelmed the misery of doing something. And so, he had started making order in his room and found this… this… this artifact of his younger self.

The drawing was a fabrication of innocence. It contained elements of what a child thought was cool in the style of action, but the pain and sorrow that usually came with blood and war was nowhere to be seen. A worriless existence, there cannot have been many pains in that child’s life. In a way, the man was awfully envious. How could that little twerp have lived so freely? It made his throat run dry. Another part of him was filled with nostalgic joy over the peaceful innocent happiness of the past, a reality which a so small and airheaded little critter deserved to enjoy life in before facing the truth. This image was proof of that innocence. And yet it did not stay. Why not? Why did he grow to face the consequences of being young a little too long?

Grunting again, he picked up the little treasure. Sighing, he walked over to the trash-can. He could not have further evidence of his past cloud his mind as he attempted to recapture his future. But looking at the drawing… It would be such a waste to throw it away, wouldn’t it? It was such a golden truth of his past. It was the evidence of a world he almost felt like he wanted to develop later. And some time maybe…

…

… An idea struck his mind. He turned on the spot and went straight out the door with powerful, determined steps, of which the like those feet had not taken for years. He ran into his cohabitant, who was clearly surprised by his sudden wave of will. Without a single other gesture, the smiling man stretched out the drawing to give to the cohabitant.

‘Lock this away.’
‘Huh..?’
‘It is my treasure. Only let me see it again… when I have no more troubles in my life.’
‘Wha… like that will ever happen with how things are going!’
‘We’ll see.’

Seeing the determination in the man’s eyes, the cohabitant hesitantly took ahold of the drawing. Nodding in a satisfied manner, the man released and turned around to walk back into his room. Looking around in it, now with a smile on his lips, he found that he could not wait to look at that drawing again. If he found more, he’d give them all to his cohabitant. When his life finally was back in order, he’d take them all out again, and see what he could make out of it. Today, he was a much better drawer than he once was. Maybe he’d make a manga out of it. That would be cool. A true way to allow the fantasy of that little child to spread out to the world…

‘Yosh!’ Cracking his fingers, the man gave the room a glare that told it that the time had come for it to surrender to his cleaning powers.

‘Let’s get started.’ Saying that he bent over, searched the floor for the first possible inconsistency and picked up the first strap of chocolate-wrapping…

Collab with wXw. I wrote the thing, s/he drew the image. The image was made before the text was written, as I was planning on using it for inspiration. It worked like a charm. When I first saw the childish image, I was like “really?” Then I considered, then I looked at the image again. The more I looked at it the more I liked it. So it came to me, “This will work.” And I wrote a text for it that I remain proud of to this day. Thank you wXw, couldn’t have done it without you. Of course, we didn’t win, but the positive feedback heavily outweighed any other kind~

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WOTM #13 – Inside the Mind

So, all I see is this land that stretches so far. It is a large universe, with so much content. It contains many different worlds, endless amount of people, countless geographic areas and places. I see warriors strutting around looking colorful. I see agents, going on their top secret missions. Large battles take place over and over, magic and laser-beams blasting all over the place. Mechanized human-like suits battle it out above some planets, wishing to gain supremacy over their enemies. Ordinary soldiers and generals repeatedly fight it out. Schools are spread out far across the worlds, and inside them countless dramas, romances and otherwise unsuitable action scenes including ridiculously young people fighting are commonplace. Magic and technology mixes without shame, but not all people know about the other despite living right next to the other. Also, over there is a forbidden corner you should not visit unless you are 18+. Really.

Every single one of these people in this universe has a story to tell. It is not any story like the ones you could share yourself, as almost every one of them is unnatural. Those that are not are almost all impossible in your world for reasons yet undisclosed. Even those living somewhat normal lives can probably outperform most in our world in the amount of drama in their lives. Always, there is some trouble, some problem, some conflict. Some love interest that got into trouble, some villain wishing different from the person, some emotional struggle to regain control of fate. And the stories repeat themselves, over and over. That… is part of this universe. More people drop in all the time, but very few people in this world note the new arrivals. The only ones that seem to mind are those that arrive at the same time with each other in the same part of the world. It can be so confusing…

Then there is another department. A department filled with more realistic faces, people someone could have seen before in life. In this department, one can see the faces of people one have seen all before. Relationships, past events, imagined future events, all can be seen here. A frequently visited place, here one can find all the experiences of a real life, and those one can imagine happening. Friends, family, acquaintances, enemies. All of them, rushing around in a large chaotic plain recreating the situations of the past. Tons of information, all here, ready to be collected whenever necessary. It will always be here. No matter how much time passes, somewhere deep inside the scenes still remain. This goes for both this department and the highly unnatural department. As long as the energy from the mind still holds strong, these worlds will stay intact.

No more.

A past friend of mine calls out my high-school nickname as I close the door to the department of real memories. That is not the world I wish to lose myself in at this moment. No matter how blissful doing so would feel at this moment, that is not the purpose of my mission. I closed the door to the real world, and I turn to face the other one, the world which represents my fantasy. It is grand. No amount of words can describe everything in this world. This is the department I draw on when creating, imagining and acting out characters in other worlds. They are my creations and the creations of other people. I influence and create them as I please, but one rule remains forever. I can never delete. I cannot erase worlds or characters I have once created. That is why the weapon of the enemy is so powerful. Why it is so potent. It is a poisonous memory, a poisonous fiction. It corrupts my mind, and destroys me using my memories. And memories cannot be deleted. Even when imagined in another form, it only changed shape. But this… is beyond that.

“Colonel? Colonel, are you alright?” The question came from outside. The scientist of the Outer Mind Infiltration Department, OMID, or just the “mids” as they are called, is currently standing over my not quite asleep body. As I am not asleep, I can hear his voice clearly. Well. I heard that the transition into this world using the technology at hand would be hazardous, but is asking that question really worth it? I mean, I cannot respond. Everything that happens right now, is in my imagination. I am imagining walking around in a universe filled with all my memories, dreams and visions. I can interact with it, and so I can do something about the problem. Currently, trying to move muscles will only happen in my imagination, and as such won’t affect the real me. But since I cannot respond, that is the confirmation that I am alright.

“Good. It appears the transition went flawlessly. Alright, you know what to do. Seek out something that does not belong in there or don’t make sense. I know it sounds difficult, but do your best.” Easy for you to say. I would claim I don’t remember half of what I am seeing here. And yet, this mind takes in everything. Everything that I would claim I don’t remember yet would come back when I am reminded of it. And I am. Over and over, I am reminded. Yes, those soldiers over there are from that movie. Yes, those girls are from that show. Yes, those warriors are from that game. And those characters gathered over there… are mine. I created them myself, and they are currently interacting with their own worlds. I have to leave them there, because they should be there. No use trying to search for anything here, because as soon as I imagine anything it will show up right in front of me. What I’m seeking… I won’t remember, and as such I must seek it.

I walk past worlds of my own past, worlds which others have created and I have experienced through various media as well as worlds I have created myself. This trip could be holding a great backlash through sheer nostalgia, as I watch the little childish cartoons of my youth jumping around trying to humor their viewers. They succeed. I smile stupidly at them before turning to look around more while my imaginary legs keeps carrying me onwards. I walk through space while watching giant ships and lasers fly by, I walk through forests with elves ambushing opponents with arrows and spells and I walk through schools where people are chasing each other for humor and romance. To my right, I see two very old characters of my own, talking. They were supposed to get indulged into a romance with each other at some point in the story, but I never got there. I smile mischievously as I instantly correct the wrong by making the guy confess immediately while adding a day or so of gathering courage. The girl blushes, and is left speechless. A few moments later I leave satisfied, while in the background the two ancient lovebirds of my past imagination shares their absolutely first kiss.

“The poison is spreading. You must hurry up.” Alright, alright. I know. By infecting my imagination and adding memories it can turn me into a horrible person. I don’t understand exactly how it works, but I remember the records of past incidents. How people suddenly became murderous, how they started believing in horrendous ideals and what occurred afterwards. Truly, a rightfully horrible weapon. Illegal is only the first term to describe the use of it. Luckily, we had discovered the terrorist hideout and taken them into custody, ending their reign of terror. However, they did not let themselves get captured without first presenting us with a last surprise. I… took the brunt, saving most of my companions. Now, however… I am trying to do what so many have failed to do before. I am trying to save myself from the weapon.

Suddenly, I notice something wrong. I passed a world, a school, but in it… was a tragedy. The characters were killing each other, and sadness wreaked havoc. Insanity grew, and problems arose. Nothing solved it, and the entire story ended with the death of everyone. I would have missed it as just another poor memory, had it not been for the fact that I remembered who had created that show. It didn’t make sense. Those childish idiots would never have created a story like that. It was wrong. And yet, I could not possibly imagine how it would otherwise look like, as that was how my brain remembered it. It also remembered the positive critique about the happy little love-story. That… was not what I remember. Something is wrong. This tragedy… is not supposed to be here.

And yet, this was not what I was seeking. I was seeking something I had no recollection of whatsoever. This was a memory, something I remembered despite how wrong it was. This… was the effect of the weapon. This effect… was what it was trying to do with my department of real memories. I find myself on the verge of tears, remembering this tragedy that the writer never wrote. Such a horrible tale. And yet, I cannot deny that it is a very well written story. The scenario for the insanities, the backings of the kills, the underlying motives and interests… In a different use, this weapon is a masterpiece. It had created a new story, a tragedy, from scratch in the place where I should have remembered a happy tale. My praise to the creator. However, I cannot allow it to do the same to my real memories. If it can do this to these happy characters, I don’t want to know what would happen if it got ahold of real memories. It would be horrendous. It has already been horrendous to past targets. I cannot allow this to happen.

“… I can’t help you, because I don’t know how it looks like in there. But, I believe you should return to protect your real memories if you’ve discovered any twisted imaginary worlds. I am sorry to say, but your imaginary worlds cannot compare to the worth of your real memories.” Shut up. I know that. But… if this thing reaches the works that are my own… they will be lost forever. The original will not be out there, ready to be watched or read again. But, in any case. That poison will try to reach for my real memories, not my fantasies. These are collateral damage, fantasies that my opponent crossed on the way. I’ve gone too far. I turn back, and run. I must catch up to it, and stop it.

I curse my ineptitude. Or maybe, I’m cursing the speed of the poison. It seems to have a taste for destroying things on the way. No, that studio would not kill that character in the first episode. No, I remember clearly reading a comment about those two’s beautiful love in that book, and yet now I remember them never meeting due to one of them having a premature death. And I remember from blasted real-life history that Hitler did NOT win World War 2, stupid poisoned history-based movie!

And that… I saw something. It was my own character, an energetic girl in school who ends up in a dimensional war against people from other worlds due to her best friend being a container for a portal to other worlds. But, the friend died in the struggle, and a dimensional rift opened killing everyone on Earth while she became forever trapped between worlds, trying to escape to a real world but only does so by opening dimensional rifts that destroy the worlds she tries to go to. I would not make that kind of story. You dare change my own character’s history, without changing my love for the character? This means war.

I cannot stop it. It reaches too far. One by one, the stories fall for the poison. I can no longer cope with seeing what is obviously not the truth. I run, giving up what I treasure the most. I had to save myself. Once again reaching the door, I find my own memories undisturbed in the other department. But when I turn around, the entire fantasy world lies destroyed by the poison. This is it, huh? Very well. I will defend this door with all I have.

“*******.” I hear my name being called. It is a voice I slightly remember, yet cannot place. I look in the direction. It is a small girl in a school uniform. Straight purple would-be unnatural hair flows down on the sides of her hair, an inborn shyness is visible in her face. Identifying me after a moment, tears start flowing and she runs to hug me. She does so, crying my name over and over. She’s Ayami, one of my first creations, and one of my most loved ones. In fact, currently my most loved one, as she has survived the poison. She knows my name because I have often let her stray from her actual world to see me in my imagination. I guess that was what saved her.

“I-I’m so scared. Wh-what has happened to this place? I d-don’t understand. I don’t understand!” She cries out. Understandable, as her world is currently… a great tragedy. I gently pat her head, while keeping a steady look-out towards the world.

“H-hey. These are your worlds. C-can’t you just turn them back? If not just… create another one, one that looks just like it did before?” I would if I could, but unfortunately the poison twisted my original memories of the places. I cannot restore what I don’t remember. There is no way.

“St-stop kidding me! Y-you hold ultimate power over this place! I’d… I’d do anything for you… with you…” A slight blush covers my face. I loved her so much that I imprinted a pretty large crush from her to me as well. There… had been an embarrassing amount of times when I indulged myself with her in my imagination. Guess the Ayami that I am meeting here remember those times. Unfortunately, my powers over my own memories are fairly difficult to control. It is like trying to forget a nightmare. It can’t be done so easily. I wonder what the mids make of my blush. Hm, better not think too carefully about it.

Don’t worry, Ayami. I’ll protect you. Even if I fail to protect the entire rest of this world, I will protect you. This poison will not corrupt my memories of you as it has of everything else. No matter what, I’ll hold you precious. No evil memory will be able to touch you.

I pat the little girl, while smiling at her. With teary eyes, and a smile of relief, the little girl looks up at me and tightens her grip on my imaginary self. Really, am I doing this all over again? Protecting her from some great evil? I’ve done it so many times in the past. Will I do it once again, but this time for real? What an ironic twist. Very well. Come at me, great evil. I will defend this girl, as I always have. I’m used to this scenario by now. Come at me! Claim me! Attempt to and find yourself destroyed! As long as I am protecting this girl, I cannot be defeated!

“We are losing him. The poison has started to inflict the source. Prepare to nullify.” … Eh? How… am I being lost? I mean… I haven’t seen anything. Nothing unfamiliar that could be the poison. How am I supposed to combat something I’m losing to when I don’t know what it looks like? I look towards the door, and quite rightly, something appears to try to use its power to break through, a great purple mist. But… the source of that energy must be close. But… the only thing here is…

My heart sank. It was so obvious. Of course the poison would take a shape in which I would not recognize it at once. If it can manipulate my memories, why could it not manipulate itself, a poisonous memory? In the end… the poison gave itself away by inflicting too much damage. Only the cover it relied on remained. I turn my head towards the girl hugging me, leaning her head towards my body while crying with a satisfied expression of relief. Ayami… blasted poison, why would you do this to my Ayami..!?

I hug Ayami. She’s surprised, but she answers. It is her lover hugging her, after all. However, she probably hears me sobbing. “Wh-what’s the matter? Stop crying, you are scaring me.”

I’m sorry, Ayami. I could not protect you.

I send the signal.

“There it is! The colonel sent the signal! About damn time! Initiate the pulse! We are going to extract this!” I hear in the background how gears turn to motion and machines start up. I mark Ayami, and let go of her. Ayami herself, a figment of my mind, stares at me as I silently supply her with the knowledge I now hold. She needed to know. Ayami, acting in character, recoiled.

“N-no. That… that can’t be. I wouldn’t… I…” She starts to fling her arms around and shake her head in desperation. Then… her energy disappears, all too quickly. “… I… I must leave, then.” This… this is the case. All record of the girl Ayami has to be extracted from my mind. Then it will be destroyed, since it has been turned into a poison. Ayami, crying in fear of what comes, puts on one last brave expression and looks at me.

“Th-then… I guess I’ll… be happy that you will survive…” I’m sorry, Ayami. “B-bye…” The childhood imaginary lover spins around, sadness obvious in her eyes, and runs away from me. As she runs, her legs and arms gradually fracture as she splits up, then it goes over her body, and lastly… her head. I never get to see her eyes a final time.

Ayami left me… Aya… A… I don’t remember her name… I don’t remember… huh? What don’t I remember? All I remember is all these incredibly depressing tragedies. What..?

“Welcome back, colonel.” I come back to the lab, the machines which brought be to my inner world shutting off. “It was touch and go there for a moment, but you pulled through. Congratulations, colonel. You’re fine!” The gleaming smile of the scientist brings me no joy. Something is missing. While I maybe won’t kill myself or anyone else, I’ve lost something of great mental importance. I thank everyone on the site for their aid and find myself congratulated by my colleagues. I force a smile, and meet them all with the promise that I won’t leave.

I go home, my imaginary world in pieces. I guess at least something good has happened. I can become a seriously awesome tragedy author. Tired and sad from all the tragedies aflame in by brain, I get in and sit down at my computer. As it starts up and I insert the password, I warily stare at the screen, wondering if I should seriously start writing down these tragedies. I could become famous with these. But is that what I want? I warily glance over the desktop, feeling little energy to do anything. My imaginations, my worlds, they are gone. I’d have to make new ones, because I could never recreate them. There is no way I’d…

Suddenly, my eyes spy a folder. It is right there on my desktop. It is called “Stories”. I miss the mouse the first time I try to grab it, I must have moved too fast. I double-clicked around the folder a few times, I must be too excited. The folder finally opened. They’re there, row upon row of word-documents which titles I remember, but contents are entirely different. All of them are significantly more happy tales. The creator of them is… me. I glance over all of them, happy to see them, but among them there is a name I don’t recognize. Ayami. I quickly open the search bar and seek through my computer after said name. The results… stun me. So… many documents..? Hope shine through my depressed heart as I see the many, many documents piling up. I can’t make heads or tails out of the names of the documents. They seem to be the names of chapters. Grinning to myself, I pick one of them. A several page story is opened up, and from the file-size I can tell that the others are just as big. I grin to myself. I get to experience reading these pieces for the first time ever, despite being the writer myself. How amusing.

Well then, I better get reading. Oh, yes. I have a lot of reading to do~~

I consider this, so far, my masterpiece. I love this text. I poured everything into it. The text came out perfect, exactly the way I wanted. And that exact month I faced only two poems and nothing else. In Advanced. Needless to say, I won. I received barely any reviews, a number of vote, and a thoroughly unsatisfying victory against no text even barely equal my own. I was… more than slightly disappointed in that it turned out that way. But I can still consider this the best text I have ever written for WOTM.

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WOTM #14 – Friendship

Dear Abigail

I’m sorry. Let me just start with that. I know you probably will most likely be reading this in pure disgust of me right now, but just hear me out, okay?

We’ve always been friends. Ever since we were small, small little girls. I remember that we came to visit one another at the meager age of five. You, me and Megan. We cherished one another, played together and did stupid things to one another. Some plays more recommended than others, but we had fun all the way. I’m pretty sure we gave our parents hell to deal with, and I’m proud of it. That was a friendship which I’d never, ever want to break. I always wished for your best, and for the best of Megan. I support you whatever you want to do with life. And what happened now… it should never have happened, really.

I swear, I wasn’t interested in him. When you came to me and told me about your crush on him I was all for it. Aaron was to be yours. I had decided it myself. You, Abigail, my dear friend, had decided to make him yours, and as I support you I also decided that he was to be yours. All those times when I gave you tips to how to claim him were not to make you believe I was on your side to cheat behind your back. It was just… I’ll just state it as it is. He is a professional seducer. I noticed that I’d been… targeted by him a few weeks ago. Aaron started straight out stalking me. I couldn’t really stop him. At first, I was appalled. But… it wasn’t the bad kind of stalking. He gave me things he mysteriously knew I wanted and offered his help at well-timed places where I needed it. I guess I fell for him too. Then he was allowed to visit me by my parents… and then things just happened.

That was what happened. I apologize greatly for this. It was never my meaning to betray you. I know that last time we met, you were really angry at me. It pains my heart to recall your grief and rage-struck expression directed at me. We almost scared Megan out of her mind. My chest still hurts from the place you shoved me, more out what the shove meant than out of the physical pain. You are usually so bright and expressive, so energetic and willful. I’d never want to tarnish that personality. So please, Abigail. Can you forgive me? You are worth far more to me than any boy will ever be. I’ll kick Aaron out of my house next time we meet, and I can set him up so he somehow runs into you. I can do anything. I want our friendship to last forever. Megan does so too. I’ll do anything you want me to. So please… can you forgive me?

Rachel

________________________________

Dear Rachel

Let’s kick jealousy in the gut for trying to separate us, k’?

Meet me at the station. Saturday. 12:00.

Bring Aaron with you.

From Abigail

________________________________

Hey, Jay.

I know you said “Rachel is a real catch” when I told you that I had a crush on her. However, I really wish you would have told me what you had meant with “catch”. I mean, I not sure about this. It appears that they are serious about this. I am the only one that is confused. Somehow, I understand why no-one has tried to claim her before, if they knew this would be the result. I mean, I can’t really complain about the attention. Who could possibly? But, you know, it really isn’t normal. And while my desire for girls is as healthy as that of any man my age…

I’m not sure if I can handle two girls at once.

I mean, they appear seriously dedicated to sharing me. I had no say in it. I only planned for Rachel, but her best friend Abigail went in and… um. What should I do? You, my best friend and otherwise worthy adviser of my cause. What should I do with these two stubborn girls..? It is not that I don’t like both of them… it is just that… the two of them at the same time is a little…

Sincerely, Aaron.

________________________________

Aaron

Could you not have left one for me?

From Jay

;D

I was bored one day, and wondered “What’s up in WOTM?” I saw the theme was friendship, and being as bored as I was I wrote something nonsensical to rid my boredom. As expected, it got nowhere and ended up critiqued by those serious people who considered it as seriously as the other entrys. Well. I made a few people chuckle. So overall, I don’t regret it. Though, it is hardly up to my standards.

Also, now that I consider it. I entered Casual with this, despite the fact I had won Advanced earlier. Huh.

IT’S A SECRET TO EVERYBODY.

[PlatinumSkink]

WOTM #15 – Betrayal

In a world, where nations crawl with swords, monsters and magic, there was a magical artifact. It was powerful enough to destroy all the opponents of the wielder. Entire nations bowed to its power. To wield the artifact, at least four people had to cooperate and gather their magical power. Five great nations, Umagaland, Resavile, Yllarivia, Avalice and Erapan, all aimed to claim this artifact for their own. Wars have been fought. People have suffered. Now, a solution is sought.

The five nations have decided that, to collect the artifact and move it somewhere safe, they would each send a single magician. I, Judge, have been hired as an overseer to make sure none of the five breaks the rules, for I am a member of none of their countries. I am a travelling magician, skilled in my art, and renowned for my teachings. I am a master of binding spells, which will be useful. Without the cooperation of three others, none of them can operate the artifact. I was chosen to make sure that the five follows their directions and do nothing suspicious. They will do the same for me. Spells will be placed to make sure there will only be us six in place. We are to take the artifact and store it in a temple protected by mighty magical defenses, only capable of being taken down should magicians from all five nations cooperate.

Problem, all countries are backstabbing bastards. Since I have planted binding-seals on each of them in order to bind them if they cause trouble, I have been confronted by each whom wants to betray the others.

Umagaland is a gigantic republic who holds more firepower than the rest, but could not be brought to win due to the others teaming up. Their pride has a tendency of getting the better of them. Their representative is a young sorcerer-prince called Emilion.

Resavile is a mediocre kingdom which is famous for the greed and treacherousness of their kings. The people starve to allow their nobles to live in luxury. Only way out of misery is military service. Their representative is a robed old magician called Korsel.

Yllarivia is a large and peaceful democracy, but it was forced to pick up arms out of fear of the others. Compared to the rest, Yllarivia is a very rich people with attractive soil, which has made them cautious. They sent their beautiful and revered maiden-witch, Valerina,

Avalice is a kingdom of great honor. Their knights and honorable warriors are their pride, but they have a distinct lack of resources due to earlier wars. This has made them rather edgy. They sent a young girl in armor. Illia is a top-graduate of their magic schools and their finest knight-mage.

The Erapan Empire is a mountain empire, filled with raiders and barbarians. They are savage, and yet their ferocious nature has brought them to be among these five. They sent a cackling and positively crazy shaman by the name of Goghi.

The six of us meet, and we walk towards the site of the artifact. We walk through a valley. Dark clouds bring a dreary atmosphere to our journey. The valley is crooked, and ages-old. Rocks and cliffs scour through it. Walking at the front is the Umaga prince, Emilion, as if it was the only place fit for him. He looks at the surroundings, princely smile shining and majestic cape flowing behind, as he opens his mouth maybe merely to keep control.

“We should hurry up. The destination is merely two miles ahead. We can get there before the rain comes if we move fast enough, but that might be cruel to you old men, wouldn’t it?” He calls backwards.

“You may set any pace you like. In the end, I’m the one incapable of getting tired.” Korsel, the old robed Resavile magician, smiles wryly in replies. On the side, the hunched half-naked and war-painted figure of Goghi the Erapan shaman bends laughing madly at this, as if it was hilarious. On the side the young girl from Avalice, almost two heads shorter than the rest, mutters in an annoyed manner.

“… We’re all powerful magic-users. A barrier to repel rain is about the most basic things anyone can do, since it has public use. There is no need to hurry for that with us here…” Talking silently on the side, Illia obviously found the subject of conversation stupid.

In the middle of the group walks the beautiful maiden-witch of Yllarivia. Valerina. Out-of-place in a beautiful white dress. The most famous individual here, she has been the subject of many a legend. That serene face of hers… she appears calm.

We walk, avoiding small-talk. Suddenly, all of us stop. We sense something.

“Additional humans have entered the artifact zone.” Emilion stated what we all already knew. There were charms to prevent that, but if helped by someone on the inside…

“Someone needs to explain themselves.” Illia murmur, hand of the knight seeking her sword.

I slowly step backwards. While Emilion, Valerina and Korsel look around for intruders, Illia turns her head towards me. Her eyes wonder what I am doing. I sigh. The magical bindings on the four of them awake. They fall powerless to the ground, surprise in their faces. Except Valerina, she’s just calm. A mad laugh is heard.

“Te atriact belong to da Erapan Empire!” The mad, disgusting eyes of the half-naked shaman turn to me. “Good work, Judgie! Yo sha get grante yo own tribe and lead the world by ou side wi te Erapan Empire!” From the top of the valley, many warriors of the Erapan Empire came charging down, all as naked as the shaman. The four all-powerful magic-users lie powerless at my feet, shifting looks at me and away at the warriors. Once again, I sigh.

“You know, Goghi…” I calmly speak. The mad shaman stared at me, still with crazy smile, but seemed to have been tainted with doubt all of a sudden.

“This half-naked stuff isn’t for me. I’m sorry, but I’ll pass.”

I release the seals on the four individuals. It didn’t even take four seconds.

The power output during those four seconds would make any magic-user swoon. None of them had any intentions of being killed by the Erapan soldiers. The destruction... was total.

After a moment, we are once again standing. The valley has been reduced to a plain, the cliffs on the sides had been completely destroyed. The bodies of the warriors lie splattered all around.

“So, your plan was to kill us all with the help of Judge, and then nab the artifact and head home with it so you could destroy us all?” Emilion glance down on the shaman with pity in his eyes.

“Yepp. That was pretty much it.” I nod, and confirm.

“As prince of Umagaland, I hold the authority to vanquish you from this treaty for violating your position, which is all in my strength to do, but…” The shaman fumble in panic as the prince speak. “… I think the humiliation is punishment enough. Come, shaman of Erapan. Your plan has failed, so you may continue to do the duty you were supposed to do on this mission. It really is the only thing you can do to save your Empire after this.” The panic in the shaman was reduced to mere despair. Korsel smiled at Emilion’s handling of the situation. Illia looked disgusted at the destruction. Valerina had already begun walking again. The prince lifts Goghi with a spell while I bind him and we’re on the way.

Old man Korsel steps up beside the shaman. He smiles, slightly amused. “Did you really think our Judge here was that evil?” Goghi could reply with nothing but a stare of despair. “You poor you…” Korsel patted the shaman as if he was a little kid who had just acted cutely stupid.

There it was. The shrine containing the artifact. It looks old. The magical readings are off the charts. And yet…

The magical traps on the building were taken down easily be the combination of five powerful magic-users. Emilion smiles happily as he looked at the group. “We make an awesome team. I don’t think as much power has ever been gathered for a single purpose.”

“Maybe we can arrange something, after we’re all at peace?” Old man Korsel gently suggest. Emilion grins towards him.

“Yeah, we’ll be a famous group! The ‘Sealers of the Artifact’! Most powerful group of sorcerers ever to walk the Earth! Solving trouble and beating baddies wherever we go!” Both the prince and the old man laughs heartily together.

The little girl knight-mage turns and stared intently at them.

“Oy. I never agreed to be part of that. I have a job. You’ll also have a trouble dragging the maiden-witch of Yllarivia with you on your plan…”

“I don’t mind.” The calm voice of Valerina leaves us all silent.

“WHAT” Illia and Emilion says in unison, chocked.

“Looks like this is happening after all! How about you, Goghi?” The prince glance over to where the half-naked man was floating in midair. The shaman cannot respond, bound and in midair beside the prince.

“So, how about you, Judge?” Asks Korsel, smiling at me.

“Uh…” Knowing all of them are planning on betraying each other before this is over, I find myself in a rather weird situation here. “… Sure, I don’t mind. All I’ve been doing is travelling anyway. If you’d have me, I’ll join.”

“Great!” Emilion sounds thoroughly happy. “And with you too, Illia, we’ll be a complete team!” He pointed at the little knight-mage. He’s met with… a blush?

“G-gee!” Illia blushes, turns and walks determinedly towards the shrine. “Don’t get your hopes up! We still have to consult our kings or otherwise leaders about it!” She isn’t against it? And she had blushed when Emilion had pointed at her? Oh… so that’s how it is.

“For our future cooperation, then.” Korsel holds to shake hands with the prince.

“Yes. For our future companionship.” Emilion smiles and takes the hand.

Over there, the girl-mage suddenly froze, and then spins around with genuine fear in her eyes…

“EMILION! DON’T!” Too late. The stunned prince could do nothing against the dark power entering his hand from the old magician. Illia sends a magic missile, but it is beaten aside. By me. I wave my hand and deflected the magic missile. Goghi falls to his feet as I release the bindings. The prince turns towards the two female members of our group. Yes, this was a part. Korsel is a manipulator, and a possessor. Emilion was just possessed. Goghi became possessed when Korsel had patted him. I became possessed when he met with me before the mission.

“There, I have four magicians. I can now operate the artifact. Four of the most powerful magicians in existence on my side. I… win.” Korsel extends his hands, as if feeling the power. Valerina slowly turns around towards us as she sense danger behind her. Illia, realizing what was going on, stares in terror at the scene before her.

Illia takes a step forward, gripping a hand on the sheeted sword on her side.

“R-release Emilion! Release them all!” Korsel just smiles at her.

“No, I cannot do that.” His plan was really simple. Possess enough magicians, take artifact.

“I have no more use of you two. Judge, bind them.”

There was it. The reason why to possess me. Well, not like I can resist. I wave my hand and… eh.

“Nah. Don’t wanna.”

The old man… startled, turns his head towards me.

“What… did you say!? You are thoroughly under my control…”

“I am a master at binding. I have bound your magical energy within me. I can let myself follow your command whenever I want, but I can also take back command. As simple as that.”

The old man stares at me for a moment… then… he chuckles.

“Be that as it may. You are barely keeping yourself under check. You cannot use your sealing on me in that condition. You’ll simply stay there as I bash two powerful magicians with three before turning to you.”

“Oh? You can sense that? Bravo. Though… Not that it really matters. You were doomed to fail from the very start.”

The old man looks at me, slightly hesitant. “What do you…”

He never finished the sentence. An amazing power overflow the area.

Valerina is powerful. By far, the most powerful here. Old man Korsel stares stunned at the amount of magical energy. He attempts to shield himself with shields. No use. With a vain scream, he is engulfed in pure light as he is purged from existence.

The possessions release. I immediately bind Goghi again, and he falls with a comical yelp. Valerina is already walking towards the shrine, as if nothing had happened. Emilion, slightly surprised, smiles again.

“Shall we?” With that, the slightly startled group follows Valerina…

We enter the shrine. It is a huge room, with wooden walls and roof. In the middle of the room, a single big, golden chest awaits. The artifact. The one we were to take out of here and seal. Well. That would have been the plan.

A large barrier stops us from proceeding. Most of us. Emilion, me, Illia and Goghi all hit our heads against the barrier. Valerina walked straight through.

“Valerina! What is the meaning of this!?” Emilion shouts. The maiden-witch of Yllarivia throws a single glance backwards before she tells her purpose.

“The artifact is too dangerous to exist, even sealed. I am to destroy it.” The decision by the cautious Yllarivian majority, and the will of their representative.

“That is against the treaty!” Emilion exclaims. “Judge, bind her!”

Yes, this is against the treaty. I swing my arms, intending to bind her. But… what? The bindings… are not there. The powerful woman… has gotten rid of my binding seals? Woah. As should be expected by the proclaimed deity. She follows no rules at all.

“I’m sorry, Emilion.” I say quietly, releasing all binds. “I can do nothing against her. We can only watch as she destroys the artifact…”

“… Wat, wat?” Suddenly, something behind me made noise. “Yo planni to destroy te artiact? Na, tha yo may not!” A flare of magical energy shot off. It takes me completely by surprise, despite my promises not to underestimate the shaman. Did I release his binds too? “AH NEED THA ARTIACT TO SAVE MA PEOPLE!!”

The shaman breaks through Valerina’s barrier. Riding a dragon of magical energy, the shaman charges the maiden-witch. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Valerina draws a gigantic sword of pure magic, spins around and slices through the shaman and his dragon, the giant energy-sword burning the shaman to oblivion as his last mad laughter resound through the room...

Valerina is standing there, her earlier calm and serene look roughed up a bit. Her hair is in disarray, and her dress torn. The magical contest between Goghi and her must have been a closer match than I thought. She stares straight at me.

“I will destroy the artifact, and I will destroy anyone who stands in my way. Judge, bind the othe-”

… Well. How do I say this? I kind of knew what would happen.

There was a flash of movement.

There was the sound of flesh being pierced. A woman’s yelp of surprise and despair.

A small human was behind Valerina, and a sword was sticking out of the maiden-witch’s torso. It was well aimed, straight through the heart. Blood was dripping all over the floor. Valerina’s eyes were wide with pain and surprise. Illia had pierced Valerina. It sounds impossible, doesn’t it? But, I knew it would happen. After all… I heard all their plans. The honorable kingdom of Avalice… reduced to backstabbing. I did know about the bad state of the country, but for them to go this far…

“… How..?” Valerina’s weak voice asks.

“Cape of the Unsought. Your magic-senses couldn’t see me.”

“… But…”

“Sword of Avalice.” … Sword named after the nation. No, wait… “… Sword that neutralizes all magic in the individual or item it pierces.” … The nation was named after the sword. They really gave her everything for this trip, didn’t they..?

“… Oh...” It was clearly audible that the voice was on its last breaths. “… I… lost, didn’t I? I… died…”

“Yes… you did.” With that, Illia shrugs the woman off her sword. The mighty maiden-witch falls dead to the floor. Emilion, who had been completely unable to act lately, stares in chock. Illia looks towards me.

“Thank you, Judge, for your cooperation. I will now proceed with the plan to use the Ring of Cravings to absorb the magical energy of the artifact, so I can bring it home and be used as a power-source to restore Avalice from the brink of destruction.” … That’s her plan

“That’s… an awesome alternative!”

“Eh..?” A surprised Illia is approached by Emilion, who has a gleaming smile and excitement alight in his expression.

“What an idea! Artifact of doom as a power-source! It is brilliant! I thought it was weird when a pretty girl represented Avalice, but your determination makes everything make sense! You’re great!” Illia blushes at having herself be praised. Shyness arose within the girl.

“N-no… it is nothing… I’m just… following orders…”

The prince takes a grip on her armored shoulders. Illia is slightly startled. The prince now meets her eyes with a serious expression.

“Say. Would you like to have dinner with me sometime? I can arrange something. I am a prince, after all.” Emilion appears serious. Illia reddens considerably, her innocence emerging. As I if she had not just killed someone. After fumbling with words for a few moments, she manages…

“It… it would be improper to refuse such an… invitation… from someone as yourself…” Aw. You cute girl, you.

“Great! You’re the best~” Emilion says so and bends forward, kissing the reddened girl straight on the lips. He sure proceeds fast. The little girl’s eyes widen in surprise, and her mind goes blank. I look on as the young girl’s probably first kiss takes place. After having tensed up a bit, the young girl seemingly gives herself up to the kiss as her muscles loosen up and she closes her eyes…

… Little did she know Prince Charming here is married.

Next moment, she is gone. Emilion brushes the kiss from his lips. There is no sign that Illia was ever there.

“Teleported her, huh?” I state.

“Yes. She had no place here after this, after all.” Emilion smiles at me. The prince here is a capable teleporter. Illia could not predict this. Resisting the urge to ask where he teleported her, the two of us now walk to the golden chest in the middle of the room. With a smile, Emilion runs his hand along the surface of the artifact. He has a look of victory.

“The plan proceeds?” I ask, smiling at the victor. “You take the artifact back to Umagaland, where you will create world-peace by threatening to blast any war-monger to pieces and take responsibility not to abuse the ultimate power in your hands?”

“That’s the less noble version of it.” Emilion grins at me. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you. I’d have had a lot of trouble with Valerina had I not known Illia would kill her.” I smile at him.

“Oh, you shouldn’t thank me yet. Do you know why the artifact is an empty chest?” I open the chest with a heave. The golden chest is indeed empty. Emilion, not understanding, still smiles as he looks between the chest and me.

“We CAN activate it by using the combined powers of four magic-users. However, it can also be done by two. By sacrificing one inside the chest to die to power it.” Before Emilion have had any time to consider what I said, he falls into the chest, bound by my seals. I close the chest as the princeling has an expression of despair within it, he understood perfectly how played he is. I grin to myself. The reason I’m a travelling magic-user is because I was thrown out of my old country. Now, it is time for some revenge.

I power up the artifact. I feel how Emilion’s life is drained within the chest. I’ve won. The power of the chest radiates through the room as I take command of the powers…

…

… What is this? Oh, it appears there’s a spell on the chest in case someone tried to use it before he got home, as a final precaution. He didn’t even tell me about it. Emilion, you sonova…

A loud magical explosion destroys the chest as well as the shrine and ends my life in a flashy display of fire and light, not seen by anyone.

I started writing a thoroughly over-ambitious project creating a grand and developed world, several characters that all had their own story and reason for going on the adventure and they were ALL going to betray one another. I wrote WAY too much. Way too much. I was up in 16 000+ words something. Somewhere around there I went like “Why am I still writing?” and stripped the story of most its substance, changing to a shorter ending, cutting away almost all the descriptive sentences and ended up with roughly the same story, but stripped to bare bones and almost appearing like a Free Roleplay thing, just very long.

And apparently some people loved it, as I got a shocking amount of votes and won with it. Huh. I didn’t expect that. Myself, I thought others would definitely triumph over me. I received the negative critique I expected, and yet I still won. I am so confused. Ah, well. I guess I am not complaining. Complaining would be offensive over those I won over. So, I accept the victory without hesitation. … OK, quite a bit of hesitation to begin with, but I accepted nonetheless. That’s what counts, right?

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WOTM #16 – Travel Log

Poet’s Log, 1769, 13th of July.
Today, crossing the Atlantic, is a normal ship
The Erichtho sails, proud to cross the sea
The ship’s cargo holds slaves in an iron grip
People who will never again be free
Sailors are working with the threat of a whip
Pain, immoral and suffering to a vile degree
I was somewhy requested to join this trip
By the captain with a grin full of glee
This is an atmosphere I’d heartily skip
Why, oh, why, do you need a man like me?

Poet’s Log, 1769, 17th of July.
This trip was to take us two months initially
I joined for the trip will help me beneficially
I’m paid well, and a trip to America I can use
But why am I needed on this cruise?
The captain chuckled, scorn in his only eye
As he asks “What are you trying to imply?”
Wordless, I stepped down from there
And crept back to my corner of woe
Resisting that big man is more than I dare
Trying to sleep with the screams from below

Poet’s Log, 1769, 24th of July.
Some of the men have started to suspect
The captain isn’t who he might seem
When the captain’s security he did neglect
Some men tried to reveal his scheme
His personal log they went to inspect
They must have found something, I deem
They were never given a chance to reflect
Before we knew it, we heard the men scream
They had become a threat to a project
The captain strode out, his mad grin agleam

Poet’s Log, 1769, 27th of July.
We have deviated from our intended course
We will not reach destination nor source
Neither mutiny nor treachery succeeds
The captain secured the ship for his needs
As expected of a ship named after a witch
Never once hesitating when loyalties switch
After that, the crew split dramatically in two
The civilian sailors and the captain’s guys
For the captain, they were easy to subdue
And the sailor he couldn’t employ dies

Poet’s Log, 1769, 28th of July.
From the rules mentioned, I wasn’t included
I didn’t have to swear loyalty to be left alive
From the rest of the crew, I’m now secluded
I’m told to record everything when we arrive
However, the captain has successfully alluded
A historical record of what he did contrive
He desires a such, that much I’ve concluded
That’s not so bad, if it requires me to thrive
This purpose I could never have eluded
I’ll do anything for myself to survive

Poet’s Log, 1769, 1st of August.
The ship sails along in complete silence
The captain is grinning at his crew’s expense
We’re not sailing west, we’re sailing south
I’m a captive, but food is given to my mouth
I’m treated well, but the reason why?
I finally muster the courage, ready to die…
The captain says “You will know your fate”
“Record for the world what will occur”
“When I release you, tell the story to the state”
He never did say what genre he’d prefer.

Poet’s Log, 1769, 5th of August.
To a vile gauntlet of a reef, he did us lead
The slaves were led onto deck by our crew
It was there, they did now commit the deed
Threw them all to their deaths in the blue
From the depths, a monster came to feed
A horrendous squid-demon came into view
The captain stepped forward, full of greed
Said “grant me immortality, for I released you”
From the mortal coil he was finally freed
For the monster stabbed him through

Panic filled us, as the squid did its kill
Nowhere to flee, was our deaths its will?
Turn the ship around, hoist the sail
The squid was too close, it was to no avail
… That, at least, would have been the case.
But the demon never did give chase.
It merely watched us as we departed
The beast decided not to pursue
It slowly dove into depths uncharted
Awaiting a time which to arise anew

Poet’s Log, 1769, 13th of August.
Coordinates confirmed, we are on track
We are back on our way to our destination
We were shaken by the squid-attack
But lack of leader served for unification
I’m asked to tell his story when I got back
I’ll do so, with my own little adaptation
The cargo we were to deliver we now lack
We land elsewhere to avoid complication
The, being criminals, I’ll part from the pack
Head to a city and use the story for publication

Poet’s Log, 1769, 9th of September.
Our landing-platform we’re about to reach
A completely empty and abandoned beach
On this journey of much death that’ll now end
I’ve strangely made more than one friend
They’ll never cause death again, they say
Off on the country leads their decided way
I’ll head as determined to the city
Where I’ll let my career soar to the sky
I’ve been told to go find someone pretty
I will. Well, now it is time to say good-bye

I am just showing off my rhyming skill. Just because I felt like it. Oh, and it felt like a slightly unique way of doing a ship’s log. Thoooouuuuugh… Well. It didn’t win. I hardly had any other idea that worked any better, so I am entirely fine with this. It can stay here in my collection, not being any specifically noteworthy at all…

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AOTM #17 – Guild Newsletter Banner

The AOTM was complaining that they had too few entries. And since it was such a momentous occasion I thought I could as well step-up. Though, the only program I had available to paint in was, uh, Paint. So I did this. I had plenty of experience making sprites for smaller game-projects at home, so it was not a skill foreign to me. So, yes. This was the result. And I am rather proud of it. Despite not getting any votes, I was praised for my Paint ability. That got to be the most useful ability ever known, right?

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WOTM #17 – Fire

“… Woah…” Firascel was sent scrambling across the room away from his master. He had stood no chance. Knocking his head against the wall, the apprentice tumbled down from the wall and slumped down on the floor. Twitching in pain, he slowly opened his eyes and looked up at where his master, Sir Domell, was standing. It was in the midst of the training hall, red walls and giant windows spilling light down on the majestic floor. In the midst of the room, the bearded and robed master in red garments and grey hair stared down on his pupil in unveiled disappointment. Behind him, the grand figure of a burning dragon was apparent, staring down at Firascel with the same expression as his creator.

“Your flame has weakened, child.” Domell said in a judgmental tone, almost exactly as Firascel had imagined in his head while heading to this hall knowing what would happen. “There is little passion to be found in your attacks. You are no longer the child I picked up to teach. You have lost your will, and with it your passion and flame. Before coming to see me again I require you to have once again found your passion, and with that reinforced your beliefs so they will never fall again.” The old master threw his cape over his shoulder and turned away from Firascel and headed back into the palace. The great dragon of fire withered and was extinguished as he walked away. The battered youth who’d been smashed aside in the little spar sat up with a pained expression.

“… Man…” Passion is everything here, isn’t it..? Thinking such, the youth stared wearily at the brilliantly red roof, slumped against the wall…


“By following your dreams with determination, ambition and desire, a passion can be created. Using that passion, a flame can be created in the image of your inner self, and you will have the power to strive for what you want with the flame of your passion.” So every child in Iradra is told by their teachers. This basically means that the more passionate/ambitious you are the more powerful the flame you hold will be. The size of your passion is everything in this world. Those with the greatest dreams will be destined to achieve them. By the power of their flames. And those who lack flames… they fall.

Flames are used for everything in this life. To power machines, to show ID and, most importantly, to solve all kinds of problems. Like who’s in charge of who. Or who’s the stronger fighter. Those with powerful flames are more likely to be employed, not much else matters. The slums are filled with people who have given up; they could leave the moment they find their passion. Those with larger ambitions and passions are valued higher, and those with smaller are treated like scum. And you cannot hide, because your passions can all be measured in the size of your flame. And your flame is used in all from identifications to battling it out. So if you’re not passionate… you’re done for.


… Which can be quite troublesome for people like this young boy, Firascel Brann. The moderately built youth of nineteen years lay on top of his bed. Passion is something that can only be wielded as long as you believe in what you’re passionate about. Whirling about his fingers through his black hair as he stared up into the roof with a dazed look in his eyes, he looked quite broken. His maid came walking into his damp room and started picking up the clothes he had thrown on the floor.

“Master Brann, you should pull yourself together. If you’ve lost your passion, you need to renew it. If this goes on, you’ll lose your noble status…” At that, Firascel gave the older maid a dangerous glare. He already knew that. She recoiled slightly, knowing what that meant. After picking up the clothes and throwing a sheep-shaped flame into the fireplace to keep it alight since her master had neglected it, the maid departed from the room. She gave Firascel a worried look as she left. The boy sighed. How was he to solve this? He had only very recently achieved this position. Was he going to lose it so soon? People would come to notice quickly, and then…

“If I may…” The maid stuck her head into the room. Firascel drowsily turned his head to look at her. “If you revisit the source of the passion that took you this far, you may be reminded of what drove you on.” She left as quickly as she had come back. The young man chuckled a bit. He had come from a low station, but the size of one’s flame is the only thing deciding your position in life here. Revisit what caused this flame..? He recalled the intense passion he had once felt.

“Ah, might as well.” Touched with a small smile, Firascel stood up slowly…


“What, you? I heard you lost your passion.” A wicked little smile crossed the face that would otherwise have been rather pretty. “So, you come to me to restore this?” An almost cruel-sounding laugh left her mouth. “Hoh-hoh-hoh… You’re really petty, aren’t you?” She appears to be having a really happy time at this. Yeah… this is her. With that flaming red hair… royal golden garments… and the name Scarletta. She bought her right hand to her lips, and she’s gazing at Firascel the way she might watch a rabbit jumping into the trap she set. This terrifying individual… is the source of that passion he had.

This girl. She rose from a small girl born in the slums of the capital to be the adopted crown-princess and one of the most famous individuals in the world. Her inspiring speeches with which she won the hearts of the people. Her powerful display in combat with which she swept away the precious crown-prince. Her beautiful giant flaming hawk, blazing amazingly in all its great glory. … He should have realized when her flame took the shape of a hawk, Firascel thought. She preys on the weak. The size of her passion is the size of her greed. There is nothing likable about her when you get to know her, but he hadn’t known that when he had made her his life’s goal.

… That’s right. In his ignorance, Firascel had decided to hunt for the girl on top of the world. Large ambitions… That’s what they wanted, wasn’t it? And with it, his flame had gone strong. His friends and family had begun to fear him because of his flame. With the image of the beautiful Scarletta in his mind, he had outdone teachers and challengers, left all his friends and family behind and ultimately risen to the rank of noble and gotten to meet his role-model… only to be faced with this.

“Hm? What, I am talking personally with you, and you don’t even answer? What an ungrateful boy.” With a superior expression she looked at Firascel with pity in her eyes. She was absorbed with her own superiority. “I have no time to spare on those who do not understand the honor of being allowed to see me personally. Please, leave. You’re rather repulsive in your pathetic state.” Firascel didn’t say a word to the obnoxious young girl as he turned around and left. The guards outside gave him jealous and annoyed glares. Probably partly because he was allowed to see her, partly because he didn’t do anything with it in their places. Why would he do anything to that? The only thing comparable with the greed and self-absorption of that female would be her own flame; which is dependent on the former.

Firascel became vaguely aware of some people following him. It would appear news of his loss had been heard. Passion can be lost quickly, only a single stroke against your ego can be enough for your fall from glory in this place. And there are many who would prey on those who suffered such a loss. A suddenly disappearing noble would mean an open post. Scarletta must have been entirely aware that it was quite likely the last time she saw him. She didn’t lift a finger to aid him. Not an inch of kindness. Firascel grinded his teeth. What blissful ignorance he had been in when that flame had guided him where he now has found himself. But if for a moment, he can fuel on his own selfish passion to survive…


… Burnt. Their smoking corpses were left behind. Their ambitions were too vague, and they lacked solid plans for the future. They were no match for someone used to making use of his flame for his own desires. When having lost his own main passion, Firascel was able to manipulate his desire to survive well enough to overwhelm their petty desires for glory. Don’t underestimate a noble. Passion isn’t everything; there is the skill to manipulate passion. All through Sir Domell’s teachings. Though, even if the maids currently were washing away the remnants of the last battle, Firascel needed to hurry. In that battle his weakened powers were apparent. Soon, some more powerful people around him would figure they could beat him, and he needed to regain his passion before then. He’d already been dead, hadn’t Sir Domell taught him how to summon his passion in times of need. Speaking of him…


Firascel knocked twice on the door. The door opened, the locking contraption recognizing its master’s flames. The door swung open.

“… What have you come here for? I told you to return only when you have found your passion and reinforced your beliefs.” The old man stared down at his apprentice.

“… Yeah.” Firascel said awkwardly. “I’d like to ask for your wise counseling for this, sir.” No matter how strong, anyone below the age of forty felt like a young rascal before master Domell. The old man stroked his grey beard while inspecting his apprentice.

“Alright, then. I can hardly deny you aid when I am supposed to be your teacher, now can I?” Firascel smiled slightly. The old man brought forth a cigarette which he had apparently hidden behind his back when someone had knocked on his door and he lit it with his flame as he sat down in a couch in the room. The apprentice stepped in, closed the door and sat down on a chair beside the couch. The dank feeling was probably the result of excess smoking indoors. Ignoring that, Firascel faced his master.

“I need you to tell me everything, boy.” The old man said calmly, breezing slowly with the cigarette half-way in his mouth. “Everything. What drove your passion, and what drove your passion away. All of it.” The solid gaze was put on Firascel. Taking a deep breath, trying not to cough at the smoke that polluted the air in there, he told his master.


“Hm. That is one troublesome girl, I’ll give you that.” With closed eyes and leaned back in his couch, Domell agreed silently with Firascel’s opinion. A smile was growing on the boy’s face. See? Just speak to the grown-ups. Everything can be solved from there. He had done the right thing to come talk to his teacher about this, he was thinking…

“Unfortunately, I cannot help you.”

“Wha…” Firascel’s eyes widened in chock and was about to stand up and complain, but before that a cigarette had been thrust in between his eyes. “… a… awAAOW!!” He stumbled back into the chair, helplessly fumbling. He was faced with Domell pointing a sharp finger directly at him.

“You care too little about the country to go take my path. You are as selfish as Scarletta, all you do must gain for yourself. Typical noble-child. For that end, you’d use my kindness. My passion is driven by my will to protect this country. That… is a passion I cannot teach you. It is better you find your passion for yourself. If you cannot… then you will die.” Firascel’s eyes were fixed on the finger pointed in between his eyes. The words had hit home. Was he… really as bad as Scarletta? That’s true, this was a world that practically encouraged everyone to think only for themselves, but even so..!

His mind slowing down, Firascel realized he had never done an act of kindness, never helped anyone in need. He had only cared for his own advancements, his own best. Even with all those people helping him on his way. He had merely used them. This… he was as bad as Scarletta.

“If you understand, then I suggest you leave.” The old man turned sat down again. Firascel shakily stood up, and wandered hazily towards the door.

“Don’t worry, there will soon be an ample time for you to show your passion.” The words took Firascel somewhat off-guard. After a quick look at his old master…

“… Thank you, master.”

Domell coughed loudly at the cigarette he was smoking. After a few moments of coughing, he waved his hand and… “Yes, yes, now just go already! Can’t an old man have some private time! Just go!” But even when saying that, the kindness behind the words was still apparent. Firascel smiled, as he opened the door and stepped out…


The old man was right. The moment came soon enough.

Wars were uncommon on these lands. Most battles were fought one-on-one in an eternal free-for-all. But a day, not soon after that discussion, an attack took place against the Iradra palace. Having collected soldiers from across the country, an army appeared and attacked Iradra palace. The battle was waging, beasts of flame competing in strength. Sir Domell himself was present, wreaking havoc with his grand dragon driven by the passion to protect the country. But above, in the palace, an entirely different battle was being fought…

The crown-prince who had been removed from his post by Scarletta. Fuergo. His serpent-flame coiling around his blade, Fuergo blasted through walls and guards alike with an unprecedented power through the sword of serpent-fire that he now commanded. Blasts of flaming energy from the sword tore through the entire palace. He wasn’t this strong last time. A new passion was driving him. By the anger in his face, this passion wasn’t hard to guess.

Scarletta was waiting for him in the throne-room, where she was sitting haughtily on the chair that used to be his. Her giant hawk was hovering in the giant room, throwing a glowing light all across the room. Fuergo, covered in black armor and handsome blonde features, gave her a glare of pure hatred that was less handsome.

“That throne is mine.”

“Is it? I took it from you, fair and square. If you dislike that so much, why don’t you take it back with that tiny snake of yours?” A confident smile was placed on Scarletta’s lips. Indeed. Latched onto Fuergo’s blade, the flaming snake looked really tiny. But the former prince gave that confident smile right back.

“Oh, you will find out just how big my snake can be soon enough…” A confident glare came from the vengeful prince. Scarletta found herself raising an eyebrow as she realized the hidden agenda of Fuergo through that twisted retort. Feeling less secure, Scarletta stood up.

“Standard Iradra rules.” Scarletta called out, no longer smiling. “Winner takes it all.”

“Agreed.” With a twisted smile on his otherwise handsome features, Fuergo raised his sword, along with the flaming snake on it. Scarletta twitched at the prospect of what losing would mean, and summoned the passion that had driven her to this position. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to lose. She didn’t want to become his. Flaming power enveloped the giant hawk overhead. It gave a loud shriek as it dove towards the target. Fuergo swung his sword and the snake bounced to meet the hawk…

CRUNCH.

The burning snake instantly grew to an immensely improbable size and ate the hawk, flaming feathers and all. Scarletta stared stunned at what had occurred. His passion… it was improbable. How could his passion be greater than hers..? What did he want so much..? A single glance at the twisted glare of joy he gave directly at her answered it all. Fuergo no longer desired her by normal standards. This man had gone insane on his desire to lay claim to the one who had stolen his throne. Scarletta recoiled on this realization, and fell back into the throne out of fear. This was… the feeling of defeat? No… this was… much worse…

Fuergo paced towards her, humongous snake staring down behind him, as he walked towards Scarletta.

“And now… you shall be mi-”

“Oh, no, she won’t.”

Fuergo stopped suddenly. A single, young little boy, roughly twenty, black hair, nothing special, had suddenly appeared beside Scarletta. But that expression of determination… Fuergo had to wonder.

“… Fi… Firascel!?” Scarletta suddenly cried out. “Get back! This man is much too dangerous!” Scarletta telling him to save himself? Firascel almost burst out laughing.

“No can do, princess. This man is threatening our land and you. He needs to be eliminated.” The boy said calmly. The lesson from the old man had certainly helped.

“Wha… HA!” That last noise was the noise of Scarletta once again deciding to ridicule him. “You, defeat him!? Impossible! All you ever desired was for things to go your way. For everything to work like you wanted it. Well, GUESS WHAT!? It didn’t! And the moment you found that out, you lost spirit! I’m not that kind ideal woman you pictured in your imagination…” … Of course she had checked what all her nobles used for their passion. Firascel smiled to himself.

“… I know.”

“Wha... GOOD! Then you realize it is impossible…”

“That’s why I changed my passion.” He said calmly. Scarletta’s expression changed. She looked at him with… eyes wondering if he was stupid, but also slight curiosity.

“… What..?”

“I changed my passion. I am aware I am incapable of putting passion in anything but myself…” Firascel sighed. “… But I have realized the error in my ways.” He turned and looked directly into Scarletta’s eyes, who now wondered what was up with him.

“I should never have sought just to meet you. I should have sought to lay claim to you. Steal you. To burn my way into the inner regions of your heart and steal your love. And I will start…” Firascel spun around, striking a pose towards Feurgo and leaving a stunned and slightly blushing Scarletta behind.

“… BY SAVING YOUR GOD FLAMED LIFE!”

A rumor says that, if a passionate soul holds back their passion unwillingly by some reason and then regains their reasoning, the held-back passion will come back in force.

A large pillar of flame arose, summoning a gigantic swan, extending its magnificent wings and taking aim for the equally humongous snake. Grunting, Feurgo swung his blade. This bird would be no different from the last. The swan struck forward with its beak, Firascel staring ahead with a determined glare. Right back, the snake launched itself teeth-first at the swan, Feurgo pointing his blade forward. The two flaming creatures intersected…


A short while later, there was no longer a roof on the palace. It had been blown away, as two awesome forces had matched each other for superiority. Both waging for the same woman. However, in the end, only one remained standing.

Half the room was blown away. But in one end of the burned room, Firascel still stood, breathing heavily. Scarletta, her clothes also burned, stood up shakily beside him.

“… What kind of stupid passion is that?” She honestly asked, as If mocking him.

“One that shall forever burn within my heart.” Firascel flatly declared.

“That sounds even more stupid! Idiot!” Scarletta stomped on the ground as she turned to face him, annoyed and blushing.

“Your face…” Firascel approached the princess and gently touched her chin with his partly burned hand. She blushed slightly more, and wondered what he was doing. “It looks even cuter when you’re blushing.”

Scarletta went scarlet. “Wh-what are you saying!? You idiot!”

“Aha, it looks like I already got you.”

“O-of course you haven’t! How could you have… wh-what are you doing?”

“Kissing you, of course.”

“Wha-”

“…”

“…”

“There…
H-hold on, what are the flames for?”

“… FIIIII… RAAAA... SCEEEEEEEEL…!!!”


… And with that, one was chased out of the room by the other and the two would eventually continue their lives together. On the outside of the ruined palace, an old man was watching them, a cigarette in his mouth. He wearily took it out of his mouth, and looked inside with a satisfied expression.

“Ho-ho. The future bodes better than it ever has for this world.”

Domell stood up straight, and started slowly walking back to his room.

Ah, yes… Fire. This was another entry I poured my heart and soul into. I really thought it could win. For the first time since I started this competition, an entry I thought had the ability to contend was thoroughly shot-down and stomped upon, the critics were not impressed. At all. If we only went by the critique, one could have thought this was the worst thing I ever wrote. Someone commented it was as if I had scribbled and then sent in the scribble because I thought it was fine. I… panicked slightly.

This remains one of the text which I hold closest to my heart, right behind the one for Inside the Mind. I raised quite a bit of drama because of the failure of my fire. I thought it would be the best thing since sliced bread. Apparently wasn’t. I still think this is an excellent story, and I know I am not entirely alone although I might be the only one who thinks it is exactly THAT great. In any case. If you have read it you can make your own opinion on it, right?

Also, I need to confess. The character Scarletta had her name mixed up with “Scarlette” several times during the original contribution. That was a mistake of mine I cannot believe I missed after having read it though so many times and even had my friends read it and they didn’t notice. I have corrected the error for this gallery, merely… because. But I feel guilty enough about it that I have to tell you about it here. So now I have.

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WOTM #18 – Mythology

‘Do you believe in greater powers? I mean like the powers wielded by gods, magicians and other mystical things?’

‘What? Do you think I've become all religious now all of a sudden? Of course I don’t believe in something so unscientific! I will believe in gods the moment I see one!’ The worker laughs a heartily laugh as he turns around and keep on working. I stand watching him, letting him walk away to continue his blissful atheistic life. I blink warily as I see him turn his back towards me. I wonder… how would he have reacted had he found out that he had claimed that while looking at one?

I walk by a corner. I stare up at the tall buildings that make up the city. Grey pillars riddled with windows that the people of today call skyscrapers. Really. Those things are literally scrapping the sky when compared to the buildings of the days of old. It was rare to see so tall buildings once. Now they are all over the place. Humans develop so fast. I can see why old man Odin lost interest in this place. It isn’t quite the site where conflict as usual takes place, huh? There is only an ever-present state in which hundreds of humans continue to struggle for their own survival by their own peaceful means. Want to know one of the most difficult things to do as a god? Struggle with the fact your memory is no better than a humans. For every language you need to learn it by heart. That’s one of the contributing reasons why mythologies became varied. Different gods settled to learning different languages to spread their influence. It isn’t accurate to say that we’re really gods. More like… magicians. Yeah. Magicians. That’s why there are tales of gods dying. It is simply often the case that it is very difficult to kill a god. Often it needs a weapon made by a god or another of their kind to kill a god. That’s why most stay around.

… But then there are those who get bored. Undying lives are often very boring. That’s why conflict has occurred so often during the ages. Gods enjoy conflict. To put it into ample terms, they get a kick from the prospects of life and death, despite it not being their own deaths. Often, gods would create large monsters and terrors to threaten humanity, and then empower heroes to defeat these monsters. Tales like that made gods very fuzzy inside. However, there were always the rules. The laws of the Divine Council, the council of gods. Do not openly interfere with the developments of humans. You can claim to do so, but in the end you’re not allowed to. That’s why Prometheus had to be punished by a raven picking out his liver every morning. He had given fire to the humans, despite them not being ready for it. Look at what that has led to, now.

I walk onto a bus. I could as well have cheated with getting home, but I might as well do this the human way when I’m supposed to live like one. A certain line from a song containing a god being a stranger on the bus involuntarily crosses my mind. Well. That’d be the wrong god. But it was interesting, nonetheless. Seeing all those normal people just continuing with their lives… wonder how they’d react if they knew what I really was? You might be able to tell, I’m plagued by those thoughts constantly. Ah, how long am I going to be bothered by this? At this rate, I might as well start a new era for myself. But I’m not allowed to show myself. That would interfere too greatly, apparently. This hasn’t avoided countless mythologies from springing up at a multitude of places. Maybe it is time to start another one?

I walk off the bus. But… I’ve already decided. This world… is boring. Many of the old gods had left since they got bored of dealing with regular humans. Conquest was never the same since a while back. People stopped fighting for us and started fighting for themselves. If I don’t spice it up, soon, I might just leave myself. Me, who was once one of the most powerful gods in the world, leave this planet of humans like a coward? … It was not as unimaginable as it once had been. I could have cringed at this realization, but I did not. I was never proven to be the most honorable man ever, after all. But… something needs to be done.

I suddenly find myself standing on top of a skyscraper. Not quite suddenly, I decided to find myself here. I decided I was going to spice things up a bit. I stand there, on the border of oblivion looking down on the streets of the city. Cars ride by with strange colors and humans walk by like ants of some kind. There is nothing I can do to prevent looking down on them, both metaphorically and literally. So sad, every one of them has such a small existence. Except, that is all they know. None of them could ever imagine an existence as mine except in their mythological stories. That’s fine, I guess.

I raise my hand. I control the electrical charges in the air, pulling positrons in the air to make the electrons follow in great speeds, forming a great circuit of electricity in mid-air shooting sparks in all directions, if but on a controlled scale. I clasp my hands around my thunderbolt, and assume the shape most people recognize me in. A white toga wrapped around me nicely, showing off my muscled chest, while with a thunderbolt in my hand. I feel the electricity smolder the outer regions of my impressive facial hair before I get it under control. Hm, plan? I don’t really have a plan. I just intend on creating a bit of a ruckus, see what happens afterwards. Now I just need to practice some of my powers to grow and raise my voice…

‘Zeus,’ a voice that isn’t mine suddenly says. ‘I must ask you to reconsider.’ I slowly turn around, slightly amused that I would heat that voice again after so long. I am also somewhat amused that I was stopped by someone, someone feeling the urge to pull their hand. Such a movement had not been seen in forever. This was likely the first conversation between gods in years. There, behind me, stands none other than the king of Æsir. An old man in appearance, he stands there is a wanderers robe with long white beard and leaning on his staff… except the staff is a spear. His left eye is missing, leaving only an empty socket in its place. He looks at me with a stern expression.

‘… Ah, Odin.’ I say, my amusement leaking out. ‘I don’t believe we’ve seen each other since the last meeting of the Divine Council! How long ago was that? How’ve you been? And why exactly am I to reconsider what I was about to do?’ My happy tone might have been unsuitable for the situation. The old man stares at me, his wise and only eye seemingly piercing me through. But I wasn’t the ruler of Olympus once for nothing. I meet him with a leveled stare, showing that I am not intending on backing down like nothing. My whims might not be my best quality, but I sure will stand for them. Odin does not appear amused by my newest whim.

‘If you show yourself like this, it will break the rules of human influence and our laws will tread into effect.’ He was talking about our laws. So I didn’t break those when I influenced them enough to have my pantheons’ temples spread across the world that was?

‘If you take your place here, it will open the gates for hundreds of other gods to do the same. The clashes between the states formed beneath the individual gods will be extreme. You cannot expect the Divine Council to be able to control such a reaction when one of its members goes ballistic like this. It is only by our rules that this land has kept itself stable when the human realm grew so large. Should you break this fragile peace, a War of the Gods will occur that will undoubtedly last until each human and god has killed one another. That would all occur because you broke the laws. Is that what you want? Do you intend to create your own personal Ragnarök?’ Odin’s old man-stare tried telling me he was the smarter person among us. I almost laugh.

‘What, a god of war telling me to remain at peace? That’s funny.’ Though, he did have a point. If I did this, I would trigger a great war between gods that couldn’t end well for me. I’d have too many other pantheons suddenly sided against me. And I’d have almost the entire Divine Council at my throat. Though. ‘Hm… going out in a great dispute between all of the gods… that doesn’t sound so bad.’ I smile lightly at the old man. ‘I don’t have influence on this world any more, Odin. That is all in the past. I have nothing more to do but huddle about and attend the meetings of the Divine Council. Doesn’t the gods approve of dramatic tales of hardships and war? Wouldn’t this be exactly what they wanted?’

Odin gives me a disapproving stare. He then sighs, as if he was dealing with a young child. Maybe he was. Despite that I might be older than him. It is hard to tell when comparing gods. ‘I never could reason with you, Zeus. But I do not believe a god as mighty as you should fall so low. But you should know… you’d rid yourself of all the small pleasures in life. Also, get rid of that thunderbolt. You’re scaring the lady over there.’

His words surprise me a bit. When I look over, indeed, there is a lady over there, leaning against the wall in fright. She has a splendid frame, long brown hair over her pale skin and she’s wearing what appears to be a grey women’s suit. In all likelihood she is working in the building we are standing on and came up here on a break. Now she is gasping in chock at the sight of the two gods standing talking to one another on top of the building. I can’t help but smile. This was exactly the kinds of coincidences that had created the original mythologies the humans knew of today. I look back at Odin, smile still in place.

‘Why should I? She already has seen enough to retain a memory for life. You can’t claim you’ve never let anyone know of your true self!’ I beam towards him, now honestly feeling like I was having a good time. It was very long since I felt anything was at stake, and like what was going on at the moment was going to influence the future. It had been a long time since I felt that rash of excitement. What was going to happen? Ahhh… I’m such a fool for drama. Yes, me too. Odin as well. If he claims something else, he’s lying.

‘You childish man. This explains why you got yourself so many children with women that were not your wife. You cannot contain yourself when you get a whim to do something.’ Ouch, old man. That hurts. Keep to your own private matters. Are you going to claim that you were COMPLETELY loyal to Frigg as well?

‘… But I will leave you to decide for yourself.’ The old man turned around, and from seemingly nowhere his eight-legged horse Sleipnir stepped in, prancing lightly in his own way to his master’s side. Odin pushed himself up easily onto the large horse’s back, and gave me a friendly glance. ‘I leave the decision in your hands. As a leader of gods, I bid you to be competent enough to understand the consequences of what you are doing. Should you chose to fight I will prepare Valhalla and my Valkyries to welcome many a proud new Einherjar. In any case, I bid you good luck.’ He gently turned his odd grey horse around to leave…

‘Also, Lugh is going to host a party soon, if you’re interested. It appears you’re bored, so you might take the time to drop in to take a look-see. You have not been attending parties like those ever since Greek mythology fell in popularity. Maybe you’ll surprise yourself with how fun they can be? You need to socialize with other gods more, Zeus. Hera, Athena and the rest of them are worried, too. You need to get a grip of yourself and come back to the reality that you are not the dominating topic of Earth anymore. Be proud of what you’ve achieved, it is far more than what other gods have been able to. You should join in. It would be a wonderful surprise if you did.’ And with that, the old man gave a quick little motion to Sleipnir and they were off, so quickly that no human could have followed their movement. Left there is me, and the lady.

I exhale a healthy amount of air. Good move, old man. I feel temporarily satisfied. I don’t feel the need to create a distortion in the rules of the Divine Council or create a great War of the Gods, because he somehow satisfied my need for a thrill. Was this childish of me? Perhaps. Though, I would bet something similar would happen to any one of these humans would they stay locked away for nineteen hundred years. That is for now, in any case. I don’t feel any real need to cause the destruction of the world as we know it anymore. Maybe I should attend that party Lugh is hosting. He was always one who’d love a good party, that Irish god. Ah, maybe.

I now turn my attention to the lady over there. She’s understandably hesitant in making any advances or attempts to escape. It isn’t every day that you suddenly happen to run into a conversation between the two leading gods of two major pantheons on the top of the building you happen to work in. Did someone perhaps lead her there? Maybe Aphrodite or… no, there is no need to think any further on that matter. I let the bolt of lightning harmlessly wither away into nothingness and immediately redress myself into a nice brown business suit, with a nice added trim to my beard. That was all done with my godly powers. I walk up to the lady, who was leaning towards the wall over there. A fine specimen, she must yet be under 30, and with all the qualifications to be categorized as beautiful. She’s noticeably discomforted about me approaching her.

‘Y-you’re… Zeus…’ she muttered quietly in my direction. I smile gently at her as I offer her my hand to steady herself.

‘Yes, I am. Zeus Ledford, local judge and lawyer, at your service. What is your name, miss?’ A made-up last name for my life as a normal human, and a job to keep me occupied. I can be a pretty good judge. It goes without saying that she understood the complications I just presented her. This was, after all, not an age where I could act as I once had, and I’d like the opportunity to live like this with someone knowing who I truly am. She, after having composed herself and taken my hand to steady herself, politely responds.

‘… Kathryn. Kathryn Mentzer.’ There is a bit of doubt in her voice, but she got over it pretty well. I give her a friendly smile, one which has downed many women before. I gently offer her the way down.

‘Should I guide you the way home? It is getting pretty late,’ I offer. Kathryn, in surprise, looks straight up into the sky. It had become afternoon with all the talking from earlier.

‘But... how? It wasn’t even…’ Indeed, it was not even midday when she had seen us. While I am a god of thunder, it doesn’t mean I am completely powerless in other elements. I’ve also properly adjusted so only she notices among all humans. On a completely different matter, Ra is going to have my head for this later. But that’s worth it.

‘So? Would you allow me to take you home?’ I ask, a gentle little offering. I guarantee that it is one of a kind. Kathryn does appear surprised, but no overall discomfort is shown and she appears to get a bit used to the thought. Thunder god and all, she might be just that tiny bit curious. Maybe she missed that part earlier about wars between gods and all that and only got the information visually? That would be fortunate. After a little moment of considering, Kathryn nods lightly.

‘Yes. Please do.’ So she says. And so, I was to start leading her down. But first…

I turn around and give the black raven sitting on an antenna on the top of the skyscraper a stare.

‘What are you looking at, old man?’

The raven, a familiar of Odin which he probably left behind to keep an eye on me, shrugs in a way that ravens would not normally do and took off with as a fleeting shadow soaring off, eyes watching the world down below. Satisfied with no longer being spied on at least by someone using so obvious techniques, I turn back to a slightly confused Kathryn. Maybe she isn’t that good at Norse mythology. In any case, I will now begin leading her down. I’ll start out with just befriending her, and then show her some appreciation. Oh, it was long since I did this now. Let’s see how this goes.

Oh, and all those gods I know are watching me by some otherworldly means right now? Those many, many gods that were too interested in seeing what would happen in the conversation between me and Odin, if a war between the worlds was going to break out or if everything was going to continue as normal? All those gods that are currently still watching me because they really don’t have anything better to do than to see me taking this beautiful lady home?

Let them.

I wasn’t quite as proud of this one, I didn’t expect it to win and it certainly didn’t. Apparently it inspired some drama because someone flamed against it so hard that the moderators removed his post. I never got to see that post. I wonder what it says.

In any case. It is the story of what might happen when a god gets bored. That’s about it. It is written from my memory of how the personality of the Greek God of Thunder looked like. I thought I was rather accurate. Maybe. Ah, well. That’s that.

- - - Updated - - -

WOTM #22 – Lost

What Nothing Can Replace


I took a deep breath. This was going to be difficult. But… there was no reason to worry. There was no way they could discover what was lost. And even if they did, there was nothing they could do about it.

I was a normal girl, sixteen years of age. I was of slim build, and I had my black haired tied in a ponytail, because it fit my style. As any girl, I was going to school. Yes, the school was here. I had successfully managed to confirm class and year using my own notes from different note-books, even managed to find a useful printed schedule for where I was to be next and an online map of the school ensuring I was not going to be getting lost. That was the first step. The easy one, but a very vital to get right. Due to it I now knew where to go. I had managed to memorize the schedule and roughly where in our studies we were currently using those notes. Thankfully, I wrote a lot in the past. Now to get this underway.

Currently, I was walking on the outside of the corridor towards the classroom where I was headed. Girls and boys of different ages are spread out across the school, some studying, some lazing about, others walking to their set locations. I know none of them. I wonder how many know me? There seemed to be at least one or two girls who gave me a friendly look. Do I know them? … I will find out. I will find out the hard way. But find out I will. It will only be difficult the first few times and then I will have learned. Meaning that this time, the absolutely first time, would be the absolutely most difficult one. Alright, I just need to…

The classroom. There was a number of minutes before class starts. Physics, I believe. A few students were spread out beside desks and on their seats. Did we have seats? I didn’t know. The girls over there, the boys over there? No idea. I lazily walked over to the wall and leaned on it, a fair distance from anyone else, waiting for class to start. I attempted not watching anyone directly. I didn’t know what group I usually hanged out with, after all. Soon enough, however… a number of girls over there started shifting their eyes toward me periodically. Soon enough another girl came into the classroom and walked… straight over to me. A slightly taller girl with shoulder-length straight brown hair and a somewhat reliable look. Must be someone I knew. Perfect, now I merely have to follow her to rejoin my group of friends.

“Hello, Aria.” She said, stopping beside me and fixed her eyes on me.

“Hi.” I looked back and answer with a light smile. Everything nice should be accompanied by a smile, right?

“You didn’t come yesterday. Were you alright?” She asked, seemingly worried. I sighed silently, and responded without lying.

“My mom was hospitalized. She tripped in a staircase. I was visiting her. Now I temporarily live alone until she gets better.”

Another brown-haired girl, with somewhat shorter hair with a more innocent aura had apparently come within hearing-range as she suddenly exclaimed “Oh, I am so sorry to hear that! Are you alright? Will she be alright?” A blond girl with an annoyed expression approached from right behind her. “Tsk. Bad timing. We would have had use of you in our game…” Before I knew it, a small group of girls had gathered in my corner. I answered their questions with as much truth I can muster while silently making an effort to recognize each one. These had to be my friends. So, these girls… I know all these girls. Yet, I don’t. How come humans say each other’s names so rarely? It has both helped and made things more troublesome… How come I had no school-photo-book at home?

The teacher came in. Only way I knew the glassed man was our teacher was because he was significantly older than the rest. Just as he came in, everybody hurried to very specified seats. Damn. We have fixed seats. I stayed motionless, allowing people to walk around to their seats. When everybody had sat down, I would have less of a chance of picking the wrong seat. Soon, I was the only one standing. Making sure to not take too long to seem suspicious, I sat right down at the first spot I found. Right beside the blond girl. … And immediately came the question.

“… Why are you sitting down here?” The blond girl asked at once, annoyance present in her glare. … It was impossible, huh? I tried to force back my pained look. As I thought, this was going to be difficult.

“I felt like sitting here. There should be no problem, should there?” I asked, trying to seem natural. Yep. One-way ticket to delinquency. I just simply had to overcome this trial to return to normal life.

“Aria, please return to your seat. You are not exempted from the rules.” The teacher’s word was final. Ouch. This wasn’t good. So I relocated… trying to walk in a controlled fashion without showing my doubt. … And I had to relocate a number of times, each time the receiving more confused looks from my classmates and annoyance from the teacher and those who wanted class to start. Finally, I managed to end up on what was apparently my seat right beside the first brown-haired girl… Oh, and now that I could see her note-book on the table, her name was apparently Sasha…

“Hey, what was the reason for that?” Sasha whispered to me with a worried look.

“… Don’t worry about it. I won’t do it again.” And that, that was the truth. Because now I knew my place, literally. Sasha… one down. … Thirty-something to go?



Alright. The lessons were as I could have expected them. I knew my physics, this was no problem. None of the other classes were any problem either. School… was not my obstacle. So, now I merely had to survive the social bit. Blend in with the rest. It couldn’t be that hard.

“Oy~ Aria~ Can I have your help with my physics-homework in the afternoon~?” A guy, overly goofy in his grin, tall and with a slightly wide frame looked at me hopefully. I carefully resisted raising my eyebrow. He wants my help with homework? A guy like him asking a girl like me? Did we have a special relationship of any kind? I was disgusted by the thought of it. If we were, I’d so be breaking up with him as quickly as possible. In any case, now was not the time for that. Everyone was assuming I knew the things I knew, so I should not ask. Alright. Answer.

“Sure. If you’re having problems, I can help. At the library later today.” I tried to sound as friendly as possible. The guy’s expression twisted in some mixture of chock and joy while looking at me, and several girls and boys stared at me in confusion. Oh, god, no. My sleeve is instantly grabbed and I’m pulled around face to face to Sasha.

“Are you insane!?” She whispered almost loudly, looking at me in some mixture of doubt and anger. What had I done now…? “Why would you allow that… that leech to get close to you!? … Actually, nevermind that. Wasn’t there something you had to do today!? Have you forgot!?” … Wow, the glare. I swear I couldn’t have been the only one to hear that whisper. I felt rather powerless. Leech? I had no idea. So, I was supposed to do something today? Well… um…

“What if I have?” I ask, as innocently as humanly possible. Sasha’s only response was a stare of disbelief. Ooooooo… kaaaaaaaaay… So, did I say something I shouldn’t have? Did I ruin a friendship forever? Damn, that went fast. Sasha quickly turned around and walked resolutely out. I decided not to follow, because… uh… delinquency! Perfect explanation! … Damn, this is hard. In any case, I needed to fix the confused looks looking at me throughout the classroom. I turned slowly and asked out loud…

“Anyone else want to come? We can arrange a study-session, so we can all have our homework completed in time.” There was a moment of silence, in which people didn’t seem to have heard, the guy who had asked suddenly seeming disappointed it wouldn’t be only the two of us, and then…

“… I’ll come merely to make certain you’re not alone with that guy.” “Yeah, me too then.” “I’ll come!” “Count me in.” “I’m good to go!” And a few others that nodded or waved approvingly. Alright, I fixed something while lost something else. Now, what was I supposed to do today? I never knew.



From there, the day went pretty smoothly. I learned the names of plenty of my classmates without them knowing any better (I had them all sign a list of attendance just because), an angel from who knows where from another class came across me in a corridor and asked if I was ready for tennis-training the day after (who-hoo, god bless muscle-memory) and I managed to avoid most awkward situations of knowledge I should know but didn’t. Apparently I’m better at homework than I once was according to some of those I helped, but no matter. And fortunately as far as I could gather I was not in any relationship. Thank you, higher powers. That night, I could go to bed with a smile that I had successfully completed the first and most important day quite successfully. Well, except that glaring opening of an error with Sasha. … But hopefully, that wouldn’t be a problem. … Right?

… Knock, knock. Someone was knocking on my window. I was the only one in the house, I was the only one the knock could be intended for. Hey, it was the middle of night. Why this now? I was in a rather embarrassing pajamas here, already in bed. … Ergh. So I pull up and open the windo-

“Hello, Aria.” … A guy. A guy with orange hair, a charming smile, an impressive build and eyes directed dedicatedly at me. A guy I am positively sure I have never seen before, just like any of my classmates at school. Coming in at this late at night. I quickly worked through the implications as I stared in surprise. … Oh, GOD, NO.

“Your mother’s at the hospital, right? So then, I thought I’d keep you company. If you let me in, I’ll…” The guy started pulling his legs up to scissor his legs up through the window, and-

“No.” I said blankly. “No, no, no, no no no nononono…” I pushed his legs back out. My expression must have looked absolutely horrible. The feelings going through me was some mixture of embarrassment and reluctance. Damn it… a GUY, sneaking it at THIS hour. WHO AM I!? Of course, he lost his smile and started looking at me with questioning eyes.

“But… didn’t we agree to this date? I thought you…” … Oh, gosh, me. I must have been in for the time of your life. Too bad I wasn’t me anymore. Me must have been mentally prepared, I sure am not.

“No, I don’t want to. Not when mom is hospitalized like this. I’m tired, and I don’t want the guilt of taking advantage of her injury on top of it all.” … That… that should be true enough, right? “I-I just want to sleep. I’m sorry…” … He stared at me after my confession. Then, he regained his little charming smile and…

“I’m sorry to hear that. I understand. Then I shall retreat silently into the night to return when the time is right. … Though can I have a good-night kiss first?” … He smiled hopefully. … I don’t even know his name. … D-damn it… I hesitated, looking into his blue eyes…



… Way to go, me. You really set this life up for you, didn’t you. Good grades, above average family-income, popular at school, a charming boyfriend… I have everything, don’t I? Well… I guess otherwise I wouldn’t be… me… I couldn’t help but smile as I lay in my bed later at night, heart pounding in my chest, hand out over my mouth touching my lips as I couldn’t stop thinking about that one boy I had never seen before who just… happened to be mine… This was just too perfect, wasn’t it?



The days went on. Soon, by quickly acquiring a list of my classmates I was able to remember them one by one. My friends, Sasha, Cheri, Elisabeth, some more… Actually relearn what I already should know, but in any case. I soon also could learn the name of my boyfriend via my mobile-phone’s contacts and by helpful games with my friends… (“How’s it going with you-know-who?” “Who? I won’t know unless you ask clearly…” “Oh, you know… Matthew…” “… Oh, him… Heh-heh…”) Also, I learned in-time that I was a member of the nearby tennis club, so I came to practice. It went better than I thought it would, my body remembering what I didn’t in there. For a number of days, everything was settling in just fine~! I was forgetting things here and there and needed to be ‘reminded’, but the times where I lacked knowledge grew fewer and fewer. I was rediscovering myself. This was great!



“… So, Sasha, why did you call me here…?” I asked, as I stood inside the currently empty library together with my friend. She seemed somewhat mysterious currently. I had no idea why. The brown-haired girl looked straight at me, the dark-blue afternoon sky shining through the window behind her…

“Aria. Do you remember the first thing I said to you, first time we met, back in elementary school?” … Um. No, I don’t. Uh…

“… I’m sorry. I hardly have any memories from so far back…” I say, hoping to wave the matter off.

“We didn’t meet until first year of high-school.” … … … … … … … … … … I took a moment to register that I had been tricked. Damn. Um, damn. … Damn. … It… it was of no consequence. There was no way she could recover what was lost.

“… I’m sorry for deceiving you all.” I said. There was no way around it now. I looked apologetically at Sasha, who glared at me demanding an answer. “I lost my memories. It had something to do with my mother tripping. I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to…”

“I’m sorry too. I am not going to allow you to continue talking.” Sasha picked up something from her pocket, her eyes fixed at me. I felt a shiver grow within me. What… what? That… no, wait… that badge…! … Sasha’s eye-color changed as her demeanor… and spirit… changed completely.

“I am Deborah Holliman of the Crystalline Inter-dimensional Police Department. I have temporarily taken control of the body of Sasha Glynde to complete this mission. Gregory Dalph. You are arrested for illegal dimension-jumping and for the possession of Aria Shearer. Let the girl have her body back, old man.”

… They… they discovered me. How…? No…! This was impossible! I should have gone off the radar! How was it possible that they… no, this was too convenient. How could the best friend of the one I possessed be in contact with the Crystalline!? The people of this world shouldn’t even know they exist! … Unless they could somehow detect roughly where I jumped… and then ask around…

“I see your confusion, however the solution is very easy. We discovered the traces of where you had appeared after you got lost, and then we simply searched the nearby schools for people who recently forgot where to sit during class. You old people…” Sasha’s eyes narrowed in an expression of light disgust. “… have far too strong an attraction for school-youths for your own good. Give yourself up.”

I couldn’t give myself up. Not after this. I had found the most suitable and fortunate soul to live my new life though, and this… no. This couldn’t happen. I quickly jab forward, gritting as I tap into my inner powers usually used by our kind. Telekinetic fists were aimed for the body of my friend. Seemingly realizing what I was doing, she pulled up protection, but I hadn’t grown old in one body for nothing. The no doubt young officer in an even younger body couldn’t match my speed. She was hit, and flung into the war with a yelp where she then fell down and didn’t move. … I had held back. I couldn’t kill Sasha, friend of Aria’s, friend of mine. So… I needed to flee. Flee if I needed to keep my life. My life as Aria. My life with good grades, healthy background, nice boyfriend and everything. A life with promise. I needed one.

So, I ran outside. As fast as my girly legs could carry me. But… unfortunately, Deborah was obviously not the only officer out to secure me. As soon as I left the building, the bright light of their stunning blasts shot at me from all directions, myself chocked by their speed before being stunned and Aria’s body fell motionless in front of the school… My body… The one I was going to live such an adventurous life with…



“We thank you for your aid, Sasha.” The officer told the girl.

“I only did what came naturally, mam.” The brown-haired girl with shoulder-long hair responded. She didn’t need to use ‘mam’, really, but…

“Thanks to you, the lost prisoner Gregory is once again in captivity and Aria has recovered her original body. We wouldn’t have been able to get so close if we hadn’t been allowed to use your body. The Crystalline thanks you for your assistance.”

“Ah… I really didn’t do that much. Really… I just called a friend and talked about how Aria’s personality seemed to have changed and you guys picked up the conversation and sought me out because it matched the occurrences when a person possesses another. If it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t have got involved at all.” Ah, so it WAS possible to embarrass her. Good. That meant she still was as innocent as before. Deborah lifted up her badge and looked into it, as it records what she said.

“It appears Gregory made Aria’s mother trip and hurt herself while committing the possession. He’ll be spending a while in a dimensional prison. Aria may be a bit shaken, but she’ll return to her normal self soon enough. If you need anything, call this number.” The dimensional officer put down a paper with a number on it, smiling gently at Sasha. “I will now take my leave, since I am no longer required here. You may return to your mundane world. If you wish, you could call us and ask to be hired if inter-dimensional crime-solving sounds exciting to you, but that’s a decision for another day.” Deborah chuckled as she stood up and looked down on the girl. “I wish you good luck.”

… And then, she was gone. No awesome special-effects, just… gone. No sound, no flash, just gone. Left in the chair, Sasha silently bent forward, picking up the note with the number… Oh, what a pretty number. One could call it any second and contact the Crystalline. How fun. In a bed on the other side of the house, Aria was currently sleeping, her black hair spread over pillows and her expression soundly asleep, the original personality of the innocent girl back where it belonged.

Sasha stared at the number, feeling the paper crumble slightly in her fingers. … Then, she began to giggle. A soundly amused little giggle, echoing through the house in the night, never seeming to quite stop.

That went surprisingly well.



The End

This entry was inspired by a roleplay of mine. I mean, there are lots of things that you can lose, so… Why not lose something you don’t know you can lose? And then see what happens? Just for fun.

No, I never considered it a masterpiece of mine, but I thought it was OK. Hm. I guess it was. It hardly left a lasting impression on either me or any of my readers. So I don’t really have much to say about it. Well, I guess if anyone have enjoyed reading it, then it was worth it. Really.

[PlatinumSkink]

WOTM #23 – Death

When this entry’s over you’ll be dead
Yes, it is true what you just read
This message carries curses
Evenly shared among the verses
When this entry’s over you’ll be dead

That kid last month who cut his wrist
One of the kinder deaths on the list
You’ve written your last post
Soon you’re nothing but a ghost
You’ll die from what you love the most

When this entry’s over you’ll be dead
Stripped of life and drowning in red
There’s an evil within this guild
That will ensure that you are killed
When this entry’s over you’ll be dead

As you read it gets worse with every line
If you stop reading now you’ll be just fine
But warnings you suspend
You’re curious on the end
Lurching near a fate from which you can’t defend

When this entry’s over you’ll be dead
You dare brave the dangers, go ahead
Gender, income, nation, no matter
You are on the devil’s platter
When this entry’s over you’ll be dead

Shallow gazes turn towards your heart
Powers soon to rip you apart
Your soul looks like food
To spirits in the mood
You’re attracting powers you can’t elude

When this entry’s over you’ll be dead
But you can’t sense what we have led
Currently in your room
Unseen hungry spirits loom
When this entry’s over you’ll be dead

An abstract hand caress your cheek
You can’t see them, but your soul grows weak
Spirits kiss your soul
Eager to snatch their goal
When you’re done reading they’ll lose control

When this entry’s over you’ll be dead
Your life dangles on a shallow thread
Knives easily slit your throat
Your innards slowly bloat
When this entry’s over you’ll be dead

It’s like being written in the Death Note
And an extra cruel ‘cause of death’ he wrote
All you can do now is wait
For your eternal fate
Review and comment when you’ve become ‘the late’

When this entry’s over you’ll be dead
I’m sorry if you didn’t get wed
A “save me” thread won’t help
Though you’re free to squirm and yelp
When this entry’s over you’ll be dead

Your skin is stung by a thousand needles
Body soon to be ravaged by hungry beetles
Your existence in pieces
The moment of death slowly freezes
The number of hungry spirits only increases

When this entry’s over you’ll be dead
There is no one to go in your stead
Don’t bother shedding tears
They’re feeding off your fears
When this entry’s over you’ll be dead

You’ll be killed, rendered into nothing
You can’t sense, but the chills aren’t bluffing
You had tons of things to do
None of which will now come true
The Grim Reaper now stands behind you

When this entry’s over you’ll be dead
There is no future where you will head
Only seconds away now
By reading, you allow
the spirits to use their plow
The last sentence will seal the vow

When this entry’s over you’ll be dead.

…

This entry’s over. You are dead.
In the real world you lie pale with dread.
Current you is an illusion
Created by your delusion
That you’re not really dead

Accept the truth. You are gone.
Your curiosity has forever won.
Now ask: Was it worth it?
You died. Gained any wit?
Letting this entry kill you didn’t help a bit.

Continue your unlife as you please
Nothing is real, but be at ease
You died a moment ago
You can still gain satisfaction though
In this replica which you now show

Live however you want, do a ton
This isn’t real, what you do won’t affect anyone
Go out there, live your “life”
Fight everyday strife
Just always remember…


You are dead.

I was actually intending on writing a story that month. But I wrote this whatever it is first because I felt like it. Then I ran out of time, so I tuned up the quality of this and sent it in. Overall, I am proud of how it ended up. Of course, it didn't win, but... I hardly needed it to~ It did exactly what it was supposed to, anyway~ Heh-heh-heee...

[PlatinumSkink]

WOTM #24 - Time

Time-Travel


Mark Johansson was sitting in his couch, reading a page in the newspaper. The place was a literal mess, clothes lying about on the floor, papers of paid bills never removed around the computer in the corner and long-wilted flowers crowded by the windows. The bed looked like it hadn’t been made in a century, there were several holes in the couch and the corners were so dusty it was unbelievable. And there sat Mark, the owner of the flat. He was not content with his way of life. The only thing still keeping him going was the existence of his brother Elliot and especially his nephew Edwin. His job as a waiter at the restaurant couldn’t be what was he was destined to do, and they’d probably fire him if they learned of the condition of his flat. What was his purpose in life?

… And he believed he had finally found it. They were going to try out a new technology. Some kind of science fiction gimmick that they would manipulate time to send people to a habitable planet far, far away. They sought people who would embrace the fact it could be a one-way trip. They needed physically healthy people, ready to strive against difficulties to survive. If there was anything Mark was, it was strong and healthy. This… this was it.


“Are you sure?” His brother Elliot asked him when Mark had come to visit to tell about his decision. His wife Amanda was currently making tea in the kitchen, while the three-year old Edwin was sitting in his father’s lap, dawdling with a plastic saltcellar. Elliot watched Mark with a doubtful expression. Mark smiled and nodded from across his brother’s dinner-table.

“I am sure. I will be someone little Edwin can be far prouder to have as his uncle than currently.” Mark smiled at the little guy trying to eat a closed saltcellar. “I will miss you all, but I need to do this. Or I will feel my life had no purpose.” He looked up at his brother again, who displayed sadness looking back at him. But… Elliot nodded slowly. “If that is your decision, then I won’t stop you. Do what you feel you must.” Mark nodded back.

“I will. Thank you for your support. You’re the best brother I could have.” A glance down. “And you’re obviously the best nephew I could have.” Edwin looked up at him quizzically, not quite understanding.


He applied. He became one of chosen few. They were going to be shot with time-manipulating things Mark wouldn’t even begin trying to understand into space towards a habitable planet. He had been greeted by who knows how many officials, talked about in media everywhere and they constantly trained. Mark together with a total of fifteen others talked, prepared and trained together as they came closer to launch-date.


“And that is how we escape disaster if the TRD-engine goes into a temporal flux. Any questions?” Paul Chandler informed his team in a lecture as he was busily trying to teach them how the TRD-engine was to be treated. He was the one who was to lead them through this.

“Yes, I have one.” Ronald Patel, the guy next to Mark said. “What was TRD short for, again? I think it was pushed out of my brain when you tried pushing more info into it…” He always did have some trouble learning. They all knew Ronald was competent, but this was some advanced stuff they were learning.

“Have you forgotten already?” Paul exclaimed at him. “TRD-engine is short for Time-Render-Deduction-engine, which prime function is to reduce the amount of time we experience yet we travel the same distance. For the people around us, our travel-time will be supremely short while we inside travel the full distance in the proper amount of time. That is also why we will be frozen down so we don’t die by age within our time-distortion on the way. The engine was developed in the cooperation between NASA and the Defanged Corporation…” Paul once again started rambling about the very basis for why this mission was possible.

“Ah! I got it!” Ronald exclaimed as if he just came up with the solution for life itself. “So we are time-travelers! We use time to travel!” A number of honestly amused chuckles came from different locations across the room, and for a second Paul looked just dumbfounded by the claim before chuckling a bit too.

“So, who are these ‘Defanged’ guys?” The laid-back tone of the laid-back Linda Avila asked.

“The Defanged are a recently created government-funded cooperation doing state-of-the-art science for the good of mankind, and the whole world will soon learn of their endeavors!” Paul stated proudly. His whole reason for coming along was to be able to witness the TRD-engine in full glory in its first mission that allowed people.

“… And why would they choose such a weirdo name as the ‘Defanged Corporation’…?” Linda asked with a raised eyebrow as she leaned on the table before her. A little chuckle rang through the room. Paul didn’t seem to have an idea either.

Mark gave a glance to his right, where a young woman called Natalie Hart was sitting, diligently writing down the important things on the TRD-engine. He was rather glad for her coming with them. She was quite the beauty. He knew he was to focus on the mission primarily… but when that ceased to be as important he would be sure to try to start something with her.


Soon they were onboard the Icarus, preparing for takeoff. The last good-byes to the world had been said, and the crew was getting into their stasis-modules that would keep them in stasis until their arrival decades later for them but the blink of an eye for anyone else. Mark was already positioned, smiling as he saw Natalie, Ronald and the rest of the crew getting into their respective modules. The only ones that needed to be awake during lift-off were the pilots, Paul and Linda. Not that they needed to do much in a world where everything ran on computers, but…

“Everyone ready?” Paul asked, standing beside the ‘Initiate Stasis’ switch. Mark nodded, along with the rest of the crew. Paul smiled, nodding in turn as he told them…

“Alright folks. Pleasant journey and best of luck to us all.” He pulled the switch.


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“H-hello? Are you… awake?” Mark’s eyes blinked open to the voice. Not even a single second had seemingly passed since Paul had pulled that switch. Had they been in stasis for who knows how long without the real world actually having passed more than the blink of an eye? Had the TRD-engine worked? It was dark. Someone had turned off the lights. He hadn’t recognized the voice that had spoken. Um. What?

He left the stasis-module, after which he stretched a bit and then started to look around. Mark’s eyes widened as a bit of chock passed through him.

Something had gone wrong. In the round chamber where the stasis-modules were positioned, his was the only active one. By the wall over there, the entire wall appeared to have bulged inwards by some powerful hit from the outside which hadn’t destroy the hull, but still knocked out several modules. The rest were riddled with damage from debris from within, tables that should have been attached to the floor and other things. One was opened, apparently having been disabled without killing the inhabitant, who had exited the module… Natalie. How long ago had that been…?

“Oh, I am so pleased you are awake! … Wh-who are you?” The voice asked nervously. It appeared to come from outside Icarus, however that was possible. Mark immediately started walking towards the bridge, seeking windows and truth.

“I am Mark Johansson of the Icarus, ship of time-travelers.” Mark had responded rather bluntly. “Where am I, when am I and who are you?” He asked all the questions he could think of while he opened the door to the bridge and went through…

That was the planet, alright. A green globe, somewhat larger than Earth. But there was a major difference between this planet and the one they had seen maps of. Lights. Electrical lights covered the vast majority of the night-surface of the planet, and several space ships were seen in orbit. It looked like something straight out of a science-fiction. Wait… The realization hit Mark harder than a train would hit a puppy on the monorail.

“This is the planet of Kang-khan. As for who I am and when you are…” … A blue representation of a person appeared in front of Mark. It was like a hologram from Star Wars or something. In the hologram was a very old man, looking with sadness at Mark, and he even though he looked much older the old man had a striking resemblance to… Mark’s eyes went wide.

“It has been 130 years. I am Edwin Johansson. … It is good to see you, uncle.” Mark stood gapping at the hologram of a person probably quite a bit away. “I… I knew this was your destination, so I decided to move here when it opened for the public, and… well…” Too much connected. So, the TRD-engine hadn’t worked as intended. It had slowed them down, yes. But not enough. They had travelled many light-years, but not in the blink of an eye as they were hoped to. And while they were travelling, they were outrun by human technology. … 133 years old? Life expectancy had increased since Mark had been around. He slumped back into the pilot’s chair in the small bridge of the Icarus.

“I-I’m sorry, uncle…” The old nephew of his apologized. Mark couldn’t help but grin as he leaned his head back in resignation. He had left a home he felt there was no purpose for him to be in it. Now he was in a future he hadn’t had the time to catch up with, certainly without purpose. Mark laughed stupidly to himself, apparently bound to accept he was the only survivor as well. Paul, Natalie, Linda, Ronald, all those others… Mark laughed for himself to stay sane.

“I’m sorry, uncle, but we must act now. If we ever want to get you back, we have to do so now or you’ll be captured by the Defanged…” Eh?

“What?” What did the old man just say? Get him back? Back to Earth? Wait, the Defanged? Weren’t they a company that… Realizing he had a bit of more explaining to do, the old man took a little bit deeper breath.

“The galaxy has been conquered by the Defanged. They developed their time-render technology into weapons, and they were efficient enough to take over. We have to send you back in time before they notice you are here. Because of the potency of the TRD-engine, common people are not allowed to have them. Normally we’d be powerless, but you have a TRD-engine! The oldest one ever to be put in use that belongs better in a museum… but you have one! We can send you back to where you belong, and stop Defanged in the process!” The old man looked almost frantic with hope. Mark felt more than a little overwhelmed. He had to assume this was the case.

“What do I need to do?” Mark leaned forward as he asked. The old man Edwin turned around and ran out of the hologram and leaving Mark alone before returning with a book of some kind.

“First, you must remove the core of the TRD-engine. I hope you know how to do so.” Oh, gosh. That was why they had Paul and Natalie. Had. Where was the manual? Mark spun around and went back into the round chamber. According to his memory, the TRD-engine should be right below it. The manual on how to get there was… part of the destruction over there. Damn. Seemed like this trip would get a sudden end without either Paul or Natalie to guide him… Hold it. Natalie’s notebook.

Mark ran over to the baggage area, where a number of really old bags were gathered. He opened the pretty green one which had belonged to Natalie and… on top. Her notebook. He lifted it and opened the first page… The god damn dutiful woman had written a table of contents. Mark laughed by himself as he leafed to the relevant page, gawping at the beautiful handwriting. Thank you, Natalie.

Using Natalie’s instructions, Mark found the switches to open the hatch down to the engine. Climbing down the ladder, he could navigate the mechanic construction which looked like an oversized car-engine towards the hatch where the core was to be placed. Pulling a switch, the hatch opened and the tube which contained the core was retrieved. This was the tube with a number of switches and buttons he had been told never to fiddle with due to unstable time-research.

“What now, Edwin?”

“Excuse me, I will transmit a Reverser to you.” The old man said. Reverser? Where had he acquired such a thing? Not even attempting to argue something which looked like an extension to the tube with a grappling arm to link the two formed at his feet, as if teleported. There were switches on it to input a desired date and coordinates on a galactic scale…

“I thought you would show up eventually, so I prepared.” Edwin said rapidly. “Put it on the top of the core and insert the desired date and destination, the Reverser will do the rest! Get into the stasis-module, and I’ll send you-” The old man was cut off mid-sentence. Silence. What was going on?

“Edwin. Edwin!” Mark called out in vain. Glancing upwards with worry in his eyes, another voice soon chimed in. A computerized female one.

“Defanged Corps welcomes you to the future, Mark Johansson. We are pleased to hear that you have arrived safely. Stand by, you will soon be visited by automatons that will introduce you to your new home.” … There was too much eeriness surrounding that message. This was ‘arrived safely’? Automatons greeting him instead of people? Introduce him to his new home? What happened to Edwin? … He quickly decided that this was not in his best interest.

He immediately attached the Reverser on the top of the core to the engine. So, to get back he needed to turn the ship around and activate the TRD-engine while this expansion was installed on the core. He quickly inputted the day and location of the departure from Earth, and put the core back where it belonged. ‘It will do the rest’, Edwin had said. So, Mark dashed towards the way up.

Too late. Several automated police-robots, humanoid in shape but metal and armed stood around the room while Mark was coming up the hatch. The guns looked like miniature TRD-engines with a gun barrel. Instantly upon noticing him the automatons turned their guns in his direction. Damn. Quickly letting go of the ladder, Mark fell down to the engine room again, falling painfully on his back. Looking up, he saw the opening to the engine room and the ladder obviated by their weapons. The weapons didn’t even make a sound. The weapon wiped the target out of time. Damn. OK, what now? He had temporarily avoided becoming literal history. Grunting at the pain of falling, Mark rolled back on his feet and ran.

If they destroyed the core, everything would be over. Annoyed, Mark took out the core out of the engine. He heard the sound of an automaton teleporting behind him. Not thinking about anything else, Mark turned and bashed the robotic head with the core as a blunt weapon. The gun spiraled out of the robot’s grip, and the robot flew into the wall by the force of the blow.

“Told you I was strong!” Mark shouted to absolutely nobody at all. He ran, core in hand, back towards the ladder. The automatons had placed a number of ropes to climb down, and were currently looking around. They noticed him, and aimed with their guns. Mark jumped at them and swung his TRD-engine-core-weapon with remarkable efficiency. Robots flew left and right, their time-blasts missing him completely. He grabbed ahold of a rope and pulled himself up.

He swung the core again. Having got up, two of the robots were waiting for him, but he bashed them aside with a swing of the tube-core. Heh, this was actually working! Or so he thought. Fifty or so of them, standing in varying places across the round room. Mark cracked a smile as he saw them all aiming for him. There was no way he could dodge all of them. It looked like this was the end…

It was difficult to follow what happened next. Because suddenly, there was the sound of an automaton being punched and then the visual effect of a time-weapon being fired. The automatons simply started disappearing. A number of them noticed the new threat and turned to face it, but they were too late as they were banished by time. Truly, their weapons were good enough to conquer the galaxy if they could all be destroyed so quickly by one of their own weapons… So Mark turned to glimpse at what had destroyed them all.

“Natalie.” She had survived. She was a good twenty or thirty years older, but she had survived. The now middle-aged woman was standing, a serious glare in her expression as she aimed the TRD-engine-gun for more automatons. Finding none, she sighed and looked at Mark, her older face filled with regret.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this. … I heard everything.” Apparently she was up to date. Ah, not that Mark cared. She had saved his life.

“Thank you, Natalie.” Mark smiled at her. The years clearly had not been good to her, physically or mentally. She cracked a small smile at him. Mark couldn’t imagine what she had been forced to go through just because the stasis-module broke.

“They shot the TRD-engine. We’re done for.” Natalie said solemnly. Mark chuckled as he went up to her and grabbed the gun. She was a bit surprised, but let him take it.

“No, we’re not. They were kind enough to come with one.” And with that, he removed the Reverser from the old core of the Icarus and attached it to the small core sticking out of the gun. The Reverser was an item to reprogram the core to transport something back in time. The strange sounds emitted from the connection sounded promising. Natalie stared suspiciously at what he was doing.

“… That’s not going to be able to take the ship home. Or even a stasis-module…” So much was the truth.

“We’re not going to send a human.” Mark said, smiling at her as he held up something… Natalie’s eyes widened in surprise at the stupid idea of Mark’s.

“B-but… that’s not going to work! It would burn up in the atmosphere of the Earth before anyone found it!” To her confused ranting, Mark simply smiled as he reassured her.

“Oh, I know a place and time where they will DEFINITELY find it, and not on Earth…” And Mark showed her the data that had been inputted in the Reverser’s slots for time and place. She stared at it for a moment, taking the time to fully realize when and what that was. Then… she chuckled, the older woman amused by his ways of thinking.

“You know, that actually might work.” So she said, before suddenly leaning forward and embracing him. Mark was a little bit surprised by this, but he didn’t mind. She must have had a very trying time all alone within this ship all this time, after all. Mark was the first person she had to interact with in a long time. “Now get going before more robots arrive.” Mark merely smiled at her as she released him.

“Yes, ma’am.” So Mark said, as he turned aimed the gun in the proper direction and placed the ammunition directly in front of the TRD-gun. Roughly at the same time as he heard the sounds of more automatons being teleported to destroy them, Mark fired.


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“That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.” Neil Armstrong said as he took a few steps down to finally plant his feet on the moon. It was a momentous occasion, one which would resound through history…

“Uh…” Suddenly something made him go silent. There was a notebook which was lying by his feet… on the moon? Curious, he bent down and picked it up. ‘Natalie Hart’? Someone had scribbled on the front in a different hand-writing than the one which had written the name. ‘Mark Johansson’? Who’s this? And what does it say here… Wait… Wow…

Certainly not my best. I like it nonetheless. For a moment there, it looked like it was going to win, having secured the first two votes. Now that I look at it, this piece really isn't anything special. But it was a story, and I managed to deliver what I intended to deliver. Isn't that enough? Anyways. I don't consider it my best, but I certainly do not regret it. It can join my collection without a doubt, and have a secure place in my heart. I am somewhat sad that it didn't receive a single comment, though. Nope. Not a single comment from any reader. The only feedback I gained was the fake one I gave myself and the two votes hinting that those two individuals liked my entry. That, if something, is what I regret about this piece. That nobody commented on it.

BONUS

There is a small society, inhabited by a combination of average colony people and natives. It is being oppressed by a great force, one which there is no fighting against. In a great turn-about, the natives are looking down on the colonists and not the other way around, but they are still being largely oppressed by a colonist force. The natives are free to ride around and do as they please, as such they know the horrible state of the people here compared to the rest of the colonist society. This backwater little village has a problem including a complete lack of docks, meaning they can have no such ordinary import. A lumberjack village that can only export by wagons, it isn’t big enough to be awarded its own dock. It is subject to emaciation, and the people find their situation… very unfair. But there is nothing they can do about it.

Then there was this little kid, which we’ll call Arthi for now. Arthi was somehow spoiled, due to a very loving family and the little kid adored the chance to chop wood for a living. But in those times around, it could not escape him that the world around him could not entirely sustain itself. His questions of why were answered by that the population was too great, and that because of that every one of them could not be fed. This was not the case. As Arthi quickly learned from his native friend the Great Ferret, there was more than enough food in the world to pass around. In fact, the Great Ferret’s family usually didn’t go to this town at all due to the lack of food, but sometimes they needed the wood and the natives were often given wood because they gave better offers than the colonist nation. This, obviously, made sure they were even less important to the colonists, and even less food was provided. That’s how life continued.

Mistakenly, Arthi walked in on a business exchange between a baron of the colonists and the village mayor in the mayors somewhat more proper house. There, he saw the giant and exquisite meal that the mayor and baron were sharing on the deal. Asking, Arthi learned from the baron that meal had been brought from the outside, and that he could have these kinds of meals of he worked elsewhere seeing how this place held no future. They didn’t produce enough wood for a lumberjack town to compete with other sources. Also, their lack of dock made it difficult to trade, and they didn’t have the funds or reason to get a dock despite their proximity to the ocean. There was simply too little wood. Arthi, complaining loudly about the state of things and refusing to leave, was promptly thrown out of the house by the baron’s guards.

Somewhere, it was seen that a being felt like messing with the situation and added a little extra…

Arthi was walking through the woods, when he suddenly found a sword lying around. It was a glimmering sword, with the word “Imanaite” written into the side. It was a beautiful silver sword. Lifting it up, Arthi was surprised by the light weight. Feeling like having fun, Arthi randomly swung around the sword. He didn’t know how, but he felt skilled with the sword. Despite skill and all, he managed to cut down a tree beside him. He stared in shock. The sword… Imanaite… had so easily gone straight through the thick tree. It was such a beautiful opportunity. In his joy, Arthi continued cutting trees for a while, downing them left and right, until a woodcutter saw him and shouted at him to stop.

The child with the sword, Arthi, was yelled at for his treatment of the woods. One should not be cutting trees when one does not know the rules of lumberjacking. But even though they did that, they could not deny the potential of the sword. Letting the happy boy continue with his wood-cutting, this time under the watch of more experienced wood-cutters, they could not help but confirm that their production was becoming larger than ever. Many lumberjacks became jealous of the boy for finding that sword, but many others saw the future possibilities that came with the sword. With the increased production, their town could grow and their lives could get better. It was for the best. This sword was certainly a blessing. Imanaite, the lumberjack’s sword.

The baron complained loudly next time he arrived. There was no boat to take all the wood in. Since the quota of the town had exceeded expectation with as much, the baron could not possibly take all the wood. He just took as much as he had expected to get and left, leaving the usual amount of payment for their ordeals. The usual minor amount. Smiling to themselves and to the boy, the town saw bright times ahead. If only they could shock people with the amount of wood directly at the source… they had no wagons, and with all the excess wood, they might as well start a new industry, right?

Arthi was once again walking in the woods, this time along-side the river. He was feeling good, and he was discussing with his friend Great Ferret about the resent happenings. Great Ferret had heard of things like this before, magical fortunate people and so. It would appear someone blessed the village. But, blessings usually come with a cost, Great Ferret warned. As of that, he had to leave. As of that, Arthi continued walking, thinking that no cost would be too small to pay for this blessing.

Then right there, just at the same time they needed one for transport, there stood a boat. A large boat made in black wood, with a large figurehead of a woman, a great sail and the word “Adanaite” written on the bow. Staring blankly with a large smile, the boy ran to the boat tied to a tree and climbed up in it. It was too good to be true. And somehow, he knew how to handle the entire boat. A single boy, he unfastened the ropes binding the boat, let the sail bring them along and steered at the wheel. He arrived at home, and by himself he dropped the anchor and jumped down with a rope and bound Adanaite to a nearby tree. A great smile on his face, Arthi faced the villagers with the brand-new boat…

Using the boat, they could bring the wood directly to the colonists. The baron appeared in his own town, chocked by the arrival of the boat with wood. Since the public interest in the wood, and this unexpected delivery, was actually larger than expected the villagers made off with quite a gain, one with equal or greater of what any other lumberjacks would get. With the money, they could gain more food than ever, along with better tools and all they could have wished for in an ordinary delivery. The baron, was not pleased. Such developments… simply doesn’t happen. Also, those villagers had no idea what they had just done…

The villagers were celebrating, and Arthi was the center of the attention. It was by his blessings that this change had happened, and so he was celebrated. With the additions of Imanaite and Adanaite, the lumberjack’s sword and ship, Arthi was seen as a mythical hero or just plainly fortunate. Great Ferret was there to congratulate him, but the native held his guard as he looked around. Something was not entirely right, as to say.

The colonists quickly sent spies to see the reason for the lumberjack village’s success. Quickly enough, they heard about Arthi and his developments. Seeing greater use of the items elsewhere, the state appeared and claimed Imanaite and Adanaite, saying such items had greater use elsewhere. The complaints of the villagers fell on deaf ears. They were recompensed with a small reward for finding such items, but it was nowhere near what such items were worth. Arthi was in pain, but he smiled lightly as he felt he should have expected this to happen. Great Ferret comforted him, and said that Arthi should be happy the consequences were not worse than this.

However, soon afterwards, Arthi found both items again. In the same locations, waiting for him. This came to both Arthi’s and the villagers’ joy, but the natives became frightened. What was happening, and what consequences would it have? The villagers scorned the natives for being so suspicious about it. C’mon! It was fortunate for them all! Great Ferret advised them to leave the gifts, as the colonists would be back. An argument ensued between Great Ferret and Arthi. It could really only end one way.

Arthi kept the gifts and used them without shame. Soon enough, the colonists came back. This time, they had figured that the items had disappeared due to the “owner” of the items where elsewhere. They guessed that was the nature of such items. Arthi, now a fine young man, was claimed by the baron’s forces and was forced to come with the colonists. Taken from his hometown by force together with the items, Arthi could see the sad eyes of Great Ferret in the distance. What was happening?

Soon, he learned. The Adanaite was a war-vessel, and the Imanaite was a sword originally made for combat. The Adanaite held evasive maneuvers, durability and stability that made the greatest captains swoon with pride for the boat, and the wielder of the Imanaite would never get tired and would never need to train to use the blade which could cut through anything. But both items could only be used by Arthi, and as such the young man was trained for war. First time he had to kill someone was when a desperate man tried to kill him in order to take the treasures for himself. Soon, the incredible gifts he had gained that day became tools of death which he commanded. It was to use them, or die. Arthi was used as a weapon against a nation he knew nothing about, only that they tried to kill him. It was a sad tale indeed.

On the field of battle, Arthi was unstoppable. Holding the Adanaite, no ship could stop him or his crew, sinking other ships with a remarkable accuracy and destructive power while in combat no warrior could outmatch the unnatural reflexes and speed of the wielder of the Imanaite. But even though he knew he was fighting for his life, he soon realized that the colonists were the invaders, and that his rising fame was as an evil man invading into a peaceful country. Soon, Arthi learned that people were looking forward to his encounter with Embagon, a famed ace of the enemy nation. The day soon came. Arthi, who was the captain of a ship and feared by everyone, held no friends. What would he do? This man was the only name that he had any recollection to. What… would he do?

He saw his foe. That ship was piloted by Embagon. But… it was no different. The man wasn’t special, just skilled. He was no match for Arthi, if he did as usual. But… by some reason, he decided not to. Telling his crew to use other strategies than usual, Arthi steered his ship in a strange way. His crew, wondering what he was doing, received the answer that Embagon was no ordinary opponent, and could therefore not be faced by ordinary means. The crew didn’t understand, but they continued as if their captain knew the best. Indeed, he did. This tactic would bring them to ruin.

Soon enough, the Adanaite had been blasted through as much as the Emardillo had been. Arthi had decided to make it an even fight. Soon enough, one vessel was sinking and the other was badly damaged. Adanaite was sinking. Smiling to himself about his decision, Arthi told his crew this was their greatest opponent ever, and that they should commandeer the Emardillo for their own. Jumping over, the match was already decided. Embagon’s crew was superior in terms of militants, and the crew of the Adanaite was quickly dispatched. It all remained on this one battle, Arthi versus Embagon. Wielding Imanaite, Arthi usually would be completely unable to lose. But… Arthi had decided to lose. He didn’t want this anymore. Soon, Imanaite was bashed out of his hand by Embagon, the silver blade descending into the waves to be lost forever, and Arthi expected judgment to descend…

But it did not. Instead, Embagon, a proud man of honor, asked Arthi why he had held back. To this, Arthi stood silent. Then, he chuckled. Then, he laughed. A laughter that could be classified as mad roared across the deck of the Emardillo, scaring the crap out of his own captured crew and his capturer’s crew. Then, he spoke. Of course, it was because he wanted to end this existence. He didn’t want to kill. Why had he been destined to be a part of this? It was not what he had wanted. All he wanted, was to support his lumberjack village. His innocent desire to help. It had somehow developed… into this. Embagon, certain that the artifacts of Arthi had disappeared, found it a more suitable punishment to simply send him home in a small boat. Sending him home disgraced and without his items, there was no more use of the untrained boy who could only handle his own things to that degree. Afterwards, Embagon was feared world-wide, and the war was ultimately ended because of shame of Arthi’s loss. Everyone believed it had been a fair fight between two powerful champions. This had not entirely been the case.

Returning home, Arthi found his home in lockdown. Famous for being the place of his origin, it had grown into a bigger town. If anything had prospered because of him, it was his own town. Because Arthi came from the place, it had become a tourist attraction and a target for assaults. It was now many times larger than it once was, had its own fortifications and was sustaining itself. Arthi’s loss was seen as a turning-point in the war, and his decision to lose had ended the entire war. His growing fame… had developed the small lumberjack village into a place on the map. Meeting him with doubt, as they were seeing a bloodied warrior in place of their young eccentric child, his townspeople welcomed him back. Smiling slightly, Arthi said that it was good to be back. But nothing would ever be the same.

He met Great Ferret, his native friend of the past. Silently, the two embraced each other. As could almost be told by the name, Great Ferret was now a chief of that particular tribe around there. And Arthi was the great warrior of the nation. Great Ferret calmly told how Arthi had taken the blow for making this village a much better place. The payment had been… entrance in that war, destroying his mentality. Arthi had also saved the other country by getting so great, and then losing so that his side had lost their will to fight. And that, was the payment for making this town a better place. And as so, the great warrior continued his life…

One day, a few years later, the colonist nation was invaded. Attacked for their evil deeds, they were defeated and burned to the ground, their great king thrown off the throne. The attacking armies, intent on destroying the village their enemies’ greatest hero came from, launched a sizable force to burn the village to the ground. The force was never heard from again. Rumors where heard of how a great black vessel had used artillery to bomb them to smithereens, and a single warrior with a shining silver sword had rushed straight into their lines, destroying the lot of them. After the rumors had passed, General Embagon commanded that no more assaults be made on that village, and trading to commence. Since then, that village has never been touched with bloodshed, and thorough history millennia into the future any force that at any time attempted to destroy the village would be assaulted by a black ship and a warrior wielding a silver blade. No force with their right a mind ever attacked that place again. And the town existed forever in peace.

And so this story ends.

This wasn't really made for WOTM, but whatever. I want to put it here, anyway. This was something I wrote after an epic dream I had. Then I spent half the day writing this text off my dream. Think if I could spend entire days like that these times. Anyways. I wrote this thinking that "Wow, this would fit in an WOTM" so it qualifies enough. See it as training-writing, and the only one of its kind I have ever written. I am somewhat proud of it. I actually posted it on this site before, but, uh, might as well post it here in the gallery as well. Might as well.

I wonder why I post them here. It isn't like anyone is so bored they actually read these through, is there? Ah, well. They are saved on the net if my computer ever crashes, I guess.