[removed]

The cell was as small as coffin - three steps long and two steps wide. Stone walls, thin window under the ceiling. We can imagine this dark room with straw pallet, night-chair and a tin bottle of water.

Here the emperor, chained and disgraced, wrote his last words. His reign was in the end of one of the civil wars, and he was referred in chronicles just as "June-October usurper". His reign lasted for more than month, so it was necessary to include at least some words about who he was and how he came to power.

But there was only "June-October usurper". No name, no mentioning in lists of rulers, that were carved on stone. So "June-October usurper" lost his fight so badly, that he was washed out of history.

"June-October usurper was torn apart by four horsemen, ending the age of civil wars".

During the last archaeological diggings on the Imperial Prison site scientists found this room. On the remaining plans it was named "special sweat-box".Thousands of years passed, and cement, that held stones of cell together, weakened. Under the one stone of floor a tiny secret cache was found.

Cache was small, but it was enough to hold a piece of parchment with words written by coal:

"I tried.

Imperator Korenus".

[deleted]

We decided to land down the street from my parents in a lumber yard. It would be shut on Christmas day, and there was plenty of room to find a place to land away from any prying eyes.

I brushed the frost from my hair that I'd accumulated on the short flight. "How do I look?", I asked.

"As awesome as I predicted", Keres said and leaned down to give me a gentle kiss on my forehead. "Now come, lets go and get this over with."

We walked arm in arm down the street I'd grown up on and I smiled at the thought of childhood me, seeing me walking with this literal Goddess (whatever Keres said about her only being a spirit being and not an actual god). Then something that had been knawing its way around in my mind, finally found a route to the surface.

"Earlier", I began slowly. "What did you mean when you talked about spending time with my kind? Have other humans summoned you before?"

Keres nodded. "Yes. I have always enjoyed having relationships with humans. At least I did until he stopped me".

I let go of her arm, and focussed on the wrong part of that statement, in hindsight. "Relationships! How many women have you been with before me!"

"None", said Keres.

"Oh, but you--"

"It was always men previous to you, Hannah. Until my last partner cursed me. He knew I would move on when he grew tired of me, but he didn't want me to have any other. He cursed me so that I could not lay with another man. I have to say the loophole of being with a woman had not really occurred to me, but it's been delightful."

"Jesus Christ, what am I to you the backup prize?"

Keres stopped walking and turned to me, with hurt in her eyes. "My darling, not at all. What we have has changed my life. I would never have offered to kill the parents of any of my previous partners."

"Thanks, I think", I said.

Keres leaned forward and took hold of my face in her slender, powerful hands. "Listen to my heart, if you don't heed my words", she said and kissed me, until I lost all track of time, space and the prospect of meeting my parents.

"I love you, foolish mortal", she breathed as we broke apart.

"Hhhmmm", I said eloquently and smiled at her, so she knew I was OK.

Keres took my arm again and we walked the last few hundred yards to my door in silence. I pounded on the door hard enough to drown out the blood hammering in my ears.

"Hello dears!", said my Mum as she opened the door. "Come in, come in, you'll let the heat out", she continued bustling back into the hall. I took a deep breath and walked in with Keres behind me, ducking to get through the low old door frame.

"Well now! Isn't this nice!", said mum. "Finally a chance to meet you, Keres!" She stuck out a hand and Keres took it gracefully.

"It is my pleasure", said Keres.

"John!", shouted my Mum as she took our coats. "They are here!".

"Hannah banana!", said my Dad, as he walked out from the kitchen. "You finally bought Ker--", he said then stopped in his tracks.

"Whats the matter with you, John? You look like you've seen a ghost!", said mum to the shellshocked figure of her husband.

"Letum?", said dad finally.

I frowned "What are you--"

"I go by Keres now", said Keres. "The name Letum died with the curse you put on me."

________________________________________________________________________________
r/TallerestTales if this sort of this is up your alley

Today is February 4th, 2012. It was a Saturday, which meant relax and party for the rest of the world, but for Latin 212 of Barnard College, NY, it was an extra catch up day. At least it was for the advanced of the class who were collectively attempting to translate a particular piece of Latin writing. Written by one of the cruelest emperors to ever live, Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, or better known as Caligula during his life. That part of the letter was easy, his signature was clearly posted on the opening lines. The rest of the letter seemed straight forward; a letter explaining some final, frantic thoughts before his death. He knew his time was coming soon, but he was frustrated and paranoid over not knowing who it was and speculating who it could be. He even went so far as to surmise how his grandmother could be a legitimate culprit in the final scheme. And after the populace succeeded in disposing him, the Senate enacted a decree, Damnatio Memoriae, in attempts to wipe this man from memory, from history permanently. It was many decades afterward that those who were historically astute knew the principle “those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it” and thus reverted the decree. Yes, beyond the untrained eye, it just seemed to be a letter, however paranoid, about a man’s last thoughts before his end he knew was coming and most likely would not survive. But to this class body, they had a hypothesis from the beginning, one which they, including the faculty, wished to explore thoroughly; the letter was a cryptic message detailing, if vaguely, Caligula’s return.

There were hints that would support this hypothesis, and the body even got as far as to what the cryptic message was most likely saying. These cryptic details, they surmised, revealed such things like how he’ll arrive, places where he most likely would arrive, potential dates of when he would arrive, etc. Many of the other scholars that translated the letter thought them crazy for this thought. But, even though the earliest date provided by the students and faculty of Bernard College of when Cragula was suppose to arrive was still at least a century out, it was proven today they were all wrong.

The heavens opened up with a bang unlike anything heard before across the world (those immediately present at the entrance point reported becoming deaf), and a nearly divine light streamed out to grace the crust of the earth. It woke everyone across the world, and every channel, radio and other forms of media was tuned to one thing; this unexpected ‘cosmic encounter’. And as the cameras showed a figure in a purple robe descend down the steps of heaven, the students and faculty of Bernard College stared in horror. And as for all who knew who this was that was coming, all they could mutter was; “Dear God help us.”

"OK, sure", I said into the phone. "We'll come over after I finish work."

Keres raised an eyebrow. "You are not working today", she said flatly.

"What? No, that's just Keres joking around. She came into work to drop me off some lunch", I said with a glare at my girlfriend. Keres smiled and shrugged and went back to reading Guns and Ammo.

I turned my back to her. "Yeah, OK. Anything you need us to bring? No? OK. Yes. No, I will. Yes, of course the snow chains are on the car. We have done that. I'm not an idiot. OK. Look, Mum come on, I can make my way back to the house without mishap", I said.

"We'll see you and Dad later then. Love you Mum", I said and hung up. Then checked to make sure the call was disconnected.

"FUCK!", I shouted once I was certain I wasn't swearing in my mums earshot.

"You seem vexed", said Keres. "Do you want me to kill them?"

"They are my parents, Keres!"

Keres nodded. "Yes, but they are not immortal like my parents, so you actually could kill them."

"We just need to pay them a visit."

"To kill them."

"NO! How many times have I asked you to kill people for me since we've been together, Keres?"

Keres thought about it for a second, the noble tilt of her nose, and the sharpness of her cheekbones accentuated as she looked up and to the left to help her remember.

"Twice", she replied finally.

"Exactly...wait what?"

"That man that cut us off in traffic last month. And the politician you didn't like, when you were drinking last year."

"You didn't..." I breathed.

"No, of course not. They were a passing inconvenience. The politician died of his own poor choices and the driver is alive as far as I know. But these parents seem to cause you endless stress. I love your kind, Hannah, but humans are so much less fun to spend time with when they are stressed."

I put my hands on my hips. "Well, I can assure you that killing my parents will not make me less stressed!"

"Fair enough", she replied. "Do we need to leave soon? When do you finish not working?"

I put my head in my hands. "Do you have any idea where the snow chains are?", I asked.

Keres shook her head. "No, but I could just fly us there, if there is anywhere nearby to land?"

"OK", I said heading for the stairs. "Are you going to change?" I asked her.

Keres glanced down at the simple tunic dress she was wearing. "What's wrong with this? I am not wearing my armour or weapons. Will this not be acceptable?"

"Can you not just wear something like I would wear?"

Keres nodded and stretched on the couch. Her clothes flickered, shimmered, disappeared for a thrilling moment and then she stood, her long lean frame now encased in stylish jeans and a tasteful top. I smiled to myself at the inherent compliment of the clothes she had chosen.

"Dammit Keres", I said. "I wish I could look so awesome so effortlessly."

Keres smiled and I turned and headed upstairs. "You will also look awesome", she said to my back. "And I will appreciate it all the more for the effort you put into doing it."

_________________________________________________________________________________________

r/TallerestTales

Part 2 is below, as for some reason it says its over 10000 characters when it definitely isn't

Yes, in this world vampires aren't undead creatures. And the hunter is a complete psycho.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

Ahh yes, Heinz Doofenshmirtz

can't *bear.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked the story, even in a voice you don't usually enjoy! I have the same thing with 2nd person voice/point of view, and am still looking for a story that I would like with it being utilized.

Thank you! And thank you for reading!

What a beautiful haiku! Thank you for posting it!

Oh I loved this so much. I have read a few stories that speak in the first voice and never liked this. This was the first and only exception. Thank you! I got goosebumps several times 💞

"Do you really love me?"

Does it really need to be said?

Agnes, friendly like a prison door, eyes frozen blue, a smile would crack the smooth ice of her face.

Agnes, having built this persona to protect herself, less of a filter and more of a wall between her and the universe. Bullies, parents unready to be parents, all the little details adding to the necessity and weight of her mask.

Eternal stoicism made it unsurprisingly hard to nurture social contact, and as much as Agnes would prefer to, she was no island. She worked, lived, went by, but loneliness wore her down with each passing year. The pain added to her frozen mask in driving a wedge between herself and people.

So of course, instead of trying harder with online dating and socializing, she turned to the occult.

It was no conscious effort, she didn't set off, free of the material shakles of her mind into the beyond to bring back a mate. But she was wishful for a partner. And when her eyes opened again in the world of humans, she saw a tall, red-haired woman lying next to her. The woman smiled, and in all her perfect humanity, her beauty, her warm empathy, she appeared as the abomination she was to Agnes.

An abomination that had come into existence now, her ties to Agnes a part of her.

Agnes tried to send it back, to ignore it.

You and I, Agnes, you and I. I am Rada.

Rada's lips moved, but her voice was in Agnes's head. Hard to ignore, so was the package she was being offered, containing a severed head.

A bully of old. Caked and coated in blood, a voiceless scream etched on their face. The bully had suffered long before the neck was sliced through. What they had seen and felt was beyond what a human mind could take.

For love.

Agnes dropped the head and ran. Through the streets, through the woods, only to find herself before Rada.

You and I.

"No," she whispered.

Rada held the severed head, dead eyes piercing Agnes with their judgement.

That's when she asked.

"Do you really love me?"

Does it really need to be said?

Agnes took Rada's extended hand, she pulled her into the coldest hug on earth.

Agnes looked for a job, Rada made certain the right person fell sick. She struggled with her peers, Rada devoured them, maw and gullet growing. Larger and larger to swallow them whole, blood running down Rada's face. Then Rada turned, and gave Agnes a pretty human smile.

And more than that, Rada gave Agnes all the little attentions. Flowers, kisses, sweet little nothings obliterating the world around Agnes, leaving only Rada.

Because Agnes had wanted for a happy relationship, a normal, stereotypical relationship with everything a movie has in there. And it was Rada's raison d'être. Now Agnes followed Rada's whims like a puppet. The beast was undying, and it wouldn't let her die either. No more occult. Rada wouldn't let her, she was all the occult she would ever need.

Rada bought the home, bought the ring, and finally, asked for Agnes' hand. Her smile was as warm as a skull's.

Agnes mustered the weakest of "yes," and Rada pulled her in for a kiss with her iron grip, a kiss that smelled like death and murder. Then she kissed her again, more forceful, and again, until she drew blood from Agnes' lips, until Agnes lifted her foot slightly like in the movies.

"Mom, dad, this is my girlfriend," Agnes didn't resist. She had invited hell into a life she didn't like, she couldn't fight it, wouldn't try to.

Mom and dad were hostile, they would never accept a gay daughter. Rada remained polite and smiling.

When they left, Agnes felt she would never see her parents again.

The day came, to say yes at the church. Rada had organized everything.

It was a little church in a village bordering the mountains. Autumn tainted the trees red and golden.

Agnes was in a black car before the church, in a white bridal dress. The doors opened, out came Rada, in a similar dress. She took her by the hand, and led her inside. The doors stayed open.

The place was packed. Everyone was there. Friends, even her parents. She did see them again.

They were held in place with nails, a smile carved on their faces. The priest was pale and gaunt, barely alive as he spoke to the two angelic brides.

"Do you want to take Rada here as wife?"

Agnes, just as pale, could only nod. The corpses in the public cackled and croaked.

"Do you want to take Agnes here as wife?"

"Yes." The warmth in her word could melt off the flesh from a face. The corpses bloated and gurgled as the heat washed over them, dried blood replaced with fresh flowing crimson, the stone floor covered with a shiny coat, wetting the bridal dresses.

"Then I hereby declare you, wife and wife."

The priest's neck cracked, he fell lifeless on the altar. Rada grabbed Agnes' neck with a hand that could crush skulls. The glasspanes shivered.

The corpses burst and applauded with their bony hands, viscera coating floor and walls as Rada's lips approached Agnes'. A storm picked up in that frozen instant, when madness had become the new normal and Agnes' mind was shattered into a thousand glass shards.

A gust of wind slammed the church's door shut right before they kissed.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

If you would like to register as an artist for Phoenix Season to show appreciation for Aberdyf's most beloved villain, click the link here.

Aberdyf hates their local supervillain.

At least, that is the claim made the city. WANTED: FIREBLOOD, ALIVE. HER CAPTURE: $15,000 REWARD. The graffitis of Fireblood across the bricks, her slasher grin cut wide and true, like milk and honey in her teeth. The whispers of Fireblood's name on the streets, like a manic spectre giddy and giddier to reap.

Was there any surprise why? Fireblood is, like her name, a firebrand. She would do what she wanted, wherever and whenever she wanted.

"This is my show!" Fireblood cackled, that month before May. "An' I ain't letting y'all off easy."

Fireblood's glitter-bomb descended across Aberdyf. It resulted in many irritated businessmen, cursing at the incessant sparkles that would never get out of their suit, rounds of dry-cleaning be damned.

That was one of the many events Fireblood stole the city with. The Glitter Bomb. The Great Unleash of the Shelter Puppies. The Helping Grandmas Cross the Street in a Wicked Way Day. Her philosophy was tried and true: make chaos, and make it delightful.

The state didn't see it that way.

"We've had enough of Aberdyf's asinine villain. Bring someone in to finish her off."

That month after May, a new superhero came to town. Her name was Desolation and she was devastating. Dark, sculpted to perfection, with a nightingale necklace hanging from her throat. To call her destruction incarnate would be underselling it. The state knew her as a solitary spectre, a thing more machine than man. If there was anyone that would put a stop to Fireblood's schemes, it would be her.

Fireblood's first scheme after Desolation's arrival was that of flowers. She bought a store's worth of roses and threw them out on the streets, spelling out a "HI, DESOLATION!!!" out in the road. Upon the next street was: "CAN WE BE FRIENDS?"

There was never an answer. But the next scheme came—this time in June—and Fireblood made stars. She decorated the skyscrapers and the antennas with strands and strands of smiley stars. When night came, the glow doused the night: like fireflies.

(They tried to get Fireblood for public desecration of property. But the processing papers suddenly went missing, the next day. To this day, nobody knows who did it; but there were rumours of the flash of a dark cape, twisting out of the precinct.)

July. Firework displays. August. Turtle Day. September. Light Up The Skylight.

Each was attended by Aberdyf and Fireblood herself, her grin and gloat the same: "This is my show!" But there was something a little different about Fireblood's antics. They became extra showy.

The fireworks contorted into hearts and grins and other ridiculous shapes. The turtles carried on them crayon hearts on their shells, every single one of the hundreds. The skylight spelled out an announcement. THIS IS FIREBLOOD SPEAKING, it said. THANKS FOR BEIN' MY FRIEND!

September drew the attention of the state. They called in Aberdyf to ask about Desolation. Whether she was faring well against their most notorious villain. Why, Aberdyf replied. Desolation couldn't have done a better job.

On October, Desolation didn't show up to Fireblood's grand Free Candy To All villainy. Desolation was, in fact, sick at home: nursing a cough and a terrible case of flashbacks. (Tragic backstory-related; don't ask.)

Upon the next day, a sizeable stash of Fireblood's own gains from the event was missing. (Some say they saw Fireblood enter a house, to which a winded cough came from, with four rucksack-fulls of candy bags. Fireblood came out empty-handed with a stupid grin on her lips.)

November was the resumption of Fireblood and Desolation's usual dance. That is: Fireblood showed up to dazzle the whole of Aberdyf with her voice through an extra-sonic mic, and Desolation, as always, was conspicuously missing.

Curiously, November was when Fireblood's catchphrase changed. "This is my show!" turned into "This is our show!" Few out of the city took note. They believed it to be of little importance. Barely worth Aberdyf's headlines. But Aberdyf knew that Fireblood had fallen, and fallen deep.

In December, Fireblood made cardboard boxes of fake presents and left them under Aberdyf's many, many trees. In December, a dark hero with a nightingale necklace finally descended between Fireblood's path.

In her hands was a rose, twined with a tag.

"Happy holidays, Fireblood."

Thank you for your friendship — Desolation.

So it is fair to say: Aberdyf hates their local supervillain. They hate her so that there is a celebration every year, called Phoenix Season. There, artists take the streets like vigilantes take to patrol. Their brushes twist on the bricks. From the events 12-months past, they create. The stupid-wide grin. The sparkle in her eyes. The pretty mania of her mouth. The fireworks going off. The eureka insanities. The graffitis of Fireblood's dance.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

The story had been on hiatus for almost three months now. The author announced on the news board they will take a break for an unspecified time, and that was their last post ever since then.

No more activity. No more notification. All for three straight months. It’s like they’ve vanished into thin air.

“Author, are you there?”

“. . .”

“I know you’re listening… Are you scared?”

“. . .”

“You should be, I’m coming for you.”

“. . .”

They sighed. The same texts from the same person, all over again, for the past weeks or so.

“If you don’t post the next chapter tomorrow, I will hunt you down.”

“. . .”

“Do you hear me?”

“. . .”

“It’s unfair of you to keep us waiting all this long!”

“And you think it’s not unfair to force me to write even when I'm burnt out?”

Finally, a response from the author. They snapped like a wooden stick now bearing its sharp ends.

“Everyone loved your story and this is how you repay them? Keeping all of us waiting while you’re being lazy out there?”

The author chuckled bitterly. So their depression, burned out and lack of energy to barely functioning in their daily lives is now watered down to simply “being lazy”?

“I don’t think you’re in a position to diagnose my condition.”

“If you can text me now, you should be able to write the next chapter!”

“No, it’s far more interesting seeing you threatening me.”

“I’m doing this so you will get back to your work!”

“Do you have anything else better to do than messaging me?”

A long pause breaks out after the author sends the text. Then…

“You can’t leave us hanging like this, you’re abusing our admiration for you. You should be responsible with your work. If you can’t keep up with it, maybe you shouldn’t write in the first place.”

“And maybe you shouldn’t have read my work in the first place. This is my work, I wrote it because I want to share my story, not for pleasing you or anyone else. My energy is running out because I’ve been giving too much, and I need time to replenish. I don’t have to make an excuse to take a break when I need to, and I don’t need you to follow me when all you’ll ever do is complain about me having time for myself. If you ever texted me again to threaten me like this, I will report you. Fuck off and get a life.”

After sending, the author blocks the account. They probably just lost a fan. But that’s alright, one less toxic fan is one less annoyance in their life.

The author placed down the phone and ruffled their hair into a mess, looking at the scattered drafts on their desk. They never regret publishing their story, but sometimes, things can be quite overwhelming and won’t be so easy to handle as it seems.

Admiration is a double-edge knife, after all.

[deleted]

[removed]

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.