commenting to see prompts later

Yes

Why does he sound like Qxir?

I don’t think it matters what the discrepancy in room temperature is. The heat ray would seem like a candle rather than an actual death ray but it doesn’t sound possible for it to be chilly.

Friends and fellow contributors to Cornerblock Weekly, thank you once again for your time. I come to you all today to tell you a story, and to address a problem within our otherwise splendid community.

I am a house brownie. I find this important to mention, only for the convenience of the wise and just sprites that have written to me, complaining of my only mentioning this fact after my previous article, and how it does not address my own personal biases before the article is read, therefore diluting the transparency of the whole paper. To that I say, you make a good point.

To the gnomes and the squirrel that brought those mushrooms around this side of the river last week, you have my gratitude and the gratitude of my fellow urban dwellers.

Most days I simply watch my Family.

Humans are strange beings. They lumber clumsily from chamber to massive chamber, their movements imprecise and unfocused.

Most of the humans in this fortress are like that, at any rate. I am lucky to have so much cover in the form of their discarded barrel-sized mugs and empty soda cans.

Shivering at the thought of the day the Family buys another cat, I watch silently from an inconspicuous hole in the wall behind the top of a couch in the living room. The man who has invaded our home carries a large tool (the Father has called one of them a crowbar), and the black mask over his face makes his eyes and forehead almost look like a pale djinn beginning to form in the gloom.

It does not take time to realize that he has done this sort of thing before. His movements are swift, his pauses absolute, his groping silent.

And then there's a quiet "thump-thump-thump" above us.

Now, I have lived in this fortress a very short time (a meager 60 years), but I have already witnessed three robberies. In two cases, the robbers simply took some valuable things and left without any incident. In the other, the masked man had heard footsteps above and fled.

This man was not like that man.

I watched in horror as the dark shadow swept behind a wall adjacent to the stairway. It stood there, tensed like a panther. I could see his eyes. There was a desperate light in them. A hunger. Something else I couldn't really identify, but something that filled me with an oddly vague sense of dread.

When Kate came down the stairs, it was only two seconds before the intruder had his crowbar to her neck and a knife pressed into her back. At this particular moment I was too stunned to act. It was as if I were watching a horror film I had no part of, no presence in.

But, maddeningly, living around a Family has its' consequences for a brownie. And soon, my eyes were on Kate's face, her eyes. Kate was 13, mature for her age but still just a child, not truly scarred by the chaotic and violent potential of humanity.

When she screamed, I snapped out of my stupor and let out a little squeak of terror. A scream like that in this situation, in my near 600 years of life, has nearly always led to the death of the victim, at the moment of the scream or afterward.

I had to do something. I could hear the creaking of bedsprings high above, groaning like great tree trunks and giant coils of aluminum.

If the Parents came down, there would be a confrontation. The fact that the intruder had only clapped his hand onto Kate's mouth was a miracle in of itself. Obviously thinking quickly, he pulled her backwards, into the shadows.

Well, what would have been the shadows for a human. I, of course, could still see him perfectly. And I could hear the Father tramping down the hallway above us and down the stairs.

"you do everything I tell you to or the knife is going through your kidney. Do you understand? Just nod. Just nod."

The whisper was like a wasp sting. The words were hushed, so quiet they are almost nothing, but the "s" sounds he made whistled through the chilled air like light beams.

And so there was light. Father had flipped the light switch.

And now we come to the point which the problem intersects the story.

Many of the older brownies and sprites, as well as the Council of the Old Wood are rather upset about what I did in those following moments. However, I must maintain that, while there are many bad humans in this world, the belief that fae should leave humans to Death when they come for them (regardless of their natures) is absurd. I am not sorry.

Of course, it doesn't take a lot to distract a human when you're small and spindly, and have a general idea where their eyes and ears and nostrils are. It helps to have great balance.

The Family never saw me. At least, the Father and Mother never saw me. All they found were a disoriented and terrified Kate, running from the man screaming and slapping himself for seemingly no reason. The Father had him down on his chest in a moment, and in a moment I was gone. I barely bothered to watch as the flashing lights appeared outside a time later. I had done what I wished to do. I did what many would wish me not to do.

I do not feel bad for saving Kate, and I welcome any free discussion on the methods of determining whether your human is kind enough to protect, as well as those who do not believe any are worth protecting. My discussion column shall be open from the 4th to the 7th, and replies shall be made on all counts that following issue. Let us decide upon the Human Dilemma as a block, and perhaps the rest of the known lands will follow.

Thanks! I was thinking of making it into a kids book of some sort.

THE GAME

I'm glad you like it, but what do you mean by part 2? The killer is dead.

the good ending

(It appears I took this a bit differently)

Half human! Never have I heard something so wrong in my life. But its become my new normal, it’s commonly enough slung at me from people walking by, or muttered by my sales clerk, but it’s not something I’d thought I’d hear from my grandfather.

This happened to me I had been growing up now for a couple years in the deep south in a small town in Mississippi. A far cry from what it was like in New Orleans

After my loving parents died I had moved from new Orleans - the place where i had grown up, the place where it was normal to be black or in my case half black.

When my white grandparents came to pick me up, they clearly weren’t exited. Their cold expressions they gave me, it was like I was tainted. Was I sick? Ugly? I never thought I was really that hard to look at.

3 years later, and I know why my grandfather called me half-human. It was my skin-color. It was black.

I was a rather intelligent student, always with a book in my hand, and i accepted though much of school. I would always ask my grandparents begg them to take me to a better school. They never listened. It was always “you should be happy we even picked you up, do you know how expensive you even are?” It wasn’t until they heard, that if i won math events, that weren’t offered at my school i could win significant sums of money.

Since they found this private school, one I supposedly should have gotten a scholarship from, my life as been a headache.

Hahaha, yeah I had a dog in mind for this story! Thank you!

Must be a dog. Cat bites aren't even that bad. He didn't die, did he?

Btw, happy cake day!

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Life was never kind.

I have no memories of my biological father, and I’m not even sure if the loving memories I have of my biological mother are real or if it’s just my brain desperate for affection deceiving me.

Nevertheless I should be grateful, I was lucky enough to be accepted into a family when I was young. In my memories, although it all happened in winter it felt so warm. The glistering lights, the sweet smell in the air, the electrifying excitement and joy of being part of a family. Ah….

And tonight those cozy memories and a couple of old blankets are my only heat source. Closing my eyes I try to capture that warmth for just a bit longer, I try to remember how it feels to be loved for just a bit longer.

Nevertheless I should be grateful, I was lucky enough to be betrayed by those I called a family during the summer, the weather was hot but in my memories they felt so cold. Would I have survived being completely alone during winter?

Opening my eyes I silently thank the small shed I’m in now, it’s not much, but I won’t have to sleep completely in the open, fortunately it seems like the old man who lives here forgot completely about the garden. The grass is unkept, there’s trash everywhere and no Christmas decorations. He spends most of his days inside the house, but recently he always leaves the house for about 2 hours each afternoon which gives me time to get some drinkable water and steal some food.

Living like this is exhausting, but I’m glad I’m still alive. And with those thoughts I drift into a slumber trying to survive one more night.

In the middle of the night an unusual sound awakes me, I carefully look outside and see a man trying to enter the house through one of the windows facing the garden. Although I could be putting everything at risk for someone who doesn't even know I exist and that he saved my life, I can't stand doing nothing knowing he could be harmed.

So without hesitation I latch on to the suspicious man’s leg, biting him as hard as I can. The man shrieks in pain and quickly a crowd of people helps me immobilize the thief, who later gets taken away by the police.

Letting go of the man I shrink away, afraid of my future, but as I do this, I lock eyes with the old man.

“I’ve tried using food and water to try and make you come out of that shed, but you only touch the bowls when I’m out of the house, never once you have approached me, but when you see me in danger you immediately go and help me. How did such a good boy like you end up here?”, he says, approaching me slowly.

When he’s closer he carefully caresses my cold body.

Ah, affection is just as warm as I remember.

I would read this as a book you got me hooked

Just searched for the last 9 days anything with "magic" in it so I think you are good to post the prompt yourself.

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Part two when?! That's good, I want to know more!!!

Thank you!

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I bet you didn't know that gods die.

It's true.

I mean, who wants to live forever? Right?

Well, it turns out that when gods decide they're ready to hang up that infinite power and turn in their lifelong place in mythology, they get to make a choice.

And that's how a mere mortal, like me, gets the chance to become something else.

So one day when I woke up to a note that gave me twenty four hours to set my affairs in order, I brushed it off. What kind of affairs does a guy like me have to put in order anyway? Twenty five hours later, I was imbued with unnatural power.

By whom, you ask?

Thor? Jupiter? Anubis?

No, not for a guy like me. The big guns don't come out for me. Oh no, someone else had their eye on me. That would be Hypnos. The god of sleep.

Sounds sweet, doesn't it? God of sleep? Who doesn't want that?!

Turns out that no one knows the god of sleep. They pray to mighty Melatonin, the amazing Ambien now. Not that many people pray to any of the gods. But it's nice to be known and aside from about a dozen professors who teach me for a half hour to classes of hungover college kids, no one knows. Or cares.

A year.

It's been a year and it's easy to remember that, cause I had twenty four hours from the morning of Christmas Eve to put my affairs in order.

I woke up on Christmas in the realm of the gods, never to see home again.

I never really thought I would miss it, you know? Why would I? I don't think you get picked by the god of sleep because you're living your best life. Not sure it's a badge of honor. The way everyone in this place looks at me, it definitely doesn't feel like it.

So today I wake up as this god of sleep, as Hypnos. I open my eyes and stare at the black stone ceiling of my cave, that's right, a cave. I sigh and rub my face in the darkness. Another day. Why Hypnos doesn't like light, I will never know. Seriously, I won't. Cause he's dead.

And I'm him.

That still doesn't sit right.

I sit up in the bed, you think it would be more comfortable for the god of sleep, and swing my legs off the edge and plant them on the cool stone floor. What I wouldn't give for a rug. I stand and take a tentative step forward and I kick something. It skids across the floor and I'm confused.

I don't have anything to kick.

Just an empty room with a bed.

I stumble around until I find the one cord that hangs from the rock, and I tug it. It opens a series of horizontal hatches, almost like blinds, with mirrors that allow light in, the one thing I actually like about this cave. It's a very cool setup to get light in.

It reveals a bare stone room with a bed and a pillow, and a small wardrobe that holds all of my two changes of clothes.

And a present.

A brightly wrapped, red and green present. Tied with a silver bow. It gleams in the light and I stare at it. Yeah, it's Christmas morning, but I haven't had a present that I didn't buy myself in years. So...where the hell did this come from?

I pick it up and turn it over. Feels heavy. And there's a tag on the top, attached to the bow.

From Santa

I laugh. Someone is pulling my leg. Alright. That's better than total indifference, which has been the usual from the rest of the gods in this realm. I sit on the edge of my bed and tear at the paper and bow, revealing a book and a handwritten letter. And a small tin of cookies.

I blink at the pile of goodies. I open the letter and see beautiful, spidery writing.

Welcome to the family.

Everything is what you make of it.

-Klaus

Alright.

Now I have questions.

For the first time, I have an interest in this realm. There's something to figure out. I mean, it was quick enough to find out that Odin and Thor are real, and both of them are real assholes. Zeus? Even worse. Turns out infinite power and infinite lifetime does not do favors for personality.

But Santa, Santa is real?

Now that, that I gotta learn more about.

I pick up the book and turn it over to the spine.

Myths and Legends, Gods and Greatness

S Klaus

That does not answer any questions, it only leaves more. There's a connection to the mortal realm and that means...maybe I can get back there.

I never thought these words would be in my mind in this particular order, not ever in my life.

But, this god needs to track down Santa to get some answers.

And maybe I can return the book and he can gift me a mattress. I grab a change of clothes and dress myself, something bland, just like my little cavern of darkness. I stop at the entry and steel my nerves to go be amongst actual gods, while I look for the one god I used to believe in.

And I know one thing for sure.

I'm keeping the cookies.

I just wanna say this is a great prompt.

Excellent story, it deserves some expansion. 👍

"I guess you were right," I said out loud, more for myself than anyone else. "Told you" Matt replied.

The lake house that I was worried about looked really decrepit. The windows had spiderwebs running from it to the ground. The wood looked really worn down and had many small cracks. Almost like when a cracked window.

No one was going to know that we snuck in here or were spending a few days here. Me, Matt, Elsa, and Faye.

The inside looked nice and the lights inside worked. We drank the beers we brought and told each other stories about what we did over a christmas break.

At some point Matt he had to use the washroom, but he never came back. We went to cautiously look for him. We knew he was the kind of person to pop up from behind his hiding spot and scare us.

Behind one corner a large figure in a hockey mask jumped out and it had a large electric chain saw. I felt like I lost every ounce of strength. Fay keeled over and started throwing up. Elsa who was next to me, just pulled me by the arm, turning me around, and ran. We ran straight to to front door but it seemed to be locked.

We then thudded up the stairs, ran into one of the rooms and hid in the closet. We were both heavily panting, hoping that the wind outside was louder than us. Hoping his environmentally friendly chain saw was still on and louder than our pants. We could hear the creaking on the stairs, he was taking his time, was he doing that to torture us?

He walked into the room and walked around before standing in front of the closet and then walking away. We could hear the footsteps starting to creak down the hall.

We could only look at one another now. Unsure of what to do. At some point, I couldn't tell if this was seconds or half and hour later, but we mad a break for the stair and then into the kitchen.

I then threw a chair threw the window before cracking it open. I smashed it a few more times trying to get a bigger opening. And we both jumped through. We ran towards the bridge but at the same time, we noticed it was gone. We turned around and the large figure with dark splatters just casually walked out the door and towards. Faye just held my hand, and I hers. Knowing we were to weak and cold to go any further. But then the figure was ran over out of nowhere buy a tank. It seemed to have been traveling in a straight line, but we were to preoccupied to notice.

And the latch opened, "comrade, I think we hit something." the man said with a strong accent.

"Was it another one of our guys?" said the voice from within the tank

"I don't know."

"was it anyone important" he asked.

"I don't think so" said the man.

"good, we can still make it to the white house undetected" he said.