”H-heeelp Meeee…

A voice you haven’t heard in years, as you stretch chitin and scale limbs, your Little Sara. She was so bright, so innocent. Her red dress lighting up the room. And her smile lighting up every single person within it. Even you. Your monstrous appearance, with too many limbs, gangly and crookedly. Sharpened claws and talons adorning each, perhaps only one or perhaps a handful. You were a Monster, and you accepted that. But she soon forgot your name, as all children do. Growing past the fear that lurked under their bed and in the dark. You’d feel a spark of recognition, whenever she saw an insect. Until that too faded away. Now, crawling out from under the child’s bed in the abandoned house, she calls? Her voice brittle as ice, and her sound barely above a whisper. The bright and cheery turned sorrowed and mournful. You idly wonder as you stretch scaled wing and go. No matter, you thought. You’d know when you see her. It took barely a moment, and you got to their home. The house ruinous and dark, in a state of disrepair. Inside, you saw unidentifiable marks. Unidentifiable, for a human. You could feel they were blood. Spilt years ago, or perhaps months. The door in front of you, a simple portal and a wooden blockage, is easy enough to enter, hearing a small gasp, not of fear or horror, but guilt. Sadness, and a curious note of relief. Sara lay slouched on a chair, her dress a mockery of its red predecessor, and her smile pained.

…you, came..?

Her every breath labored and hard, she still wastes time on petty thing. She hasn’t changed that much, it seems.

Of course. Now, let me help you…

[removed]

The aliens were very frail once we took all of their equipment away. They really were the epitome of 'little green men,' standing at about three feet tall. While in battle, they all were in these giant mech suits, but once you took them out of the suits, they looked like the kid that would get bullied on the playground.

There were debates of whether to put them into labor camps, what would have essentially have equated to slavery, but that didn't sit right with people. Pretty much everyone tweeted out against it from their phones that were built by Chinese slave labor.

Some thought straight up extermination was the answer. Line them all up and just shoot them. Or put them all on some patch of land in Kansas and throw a big ol' bomb in the middle. But that Kansas government said no because it would get green goop all over their corn, and people would not buy corn that was covered in green goop.

Others wanted to integrate them into our society. Have them take up jobs and learn our culture and assimilate. Maybe we could teach them things, and they could teach us things. You know like we could teach them about Earth culture, such as soccer and bangbros. They could teach us their culture, such as... well I guess invading other planets and trying to take over. Maybe we should be the only ones teaching the culture. Many were against this as well though. People didn't want to work side by side with the aliens that tried to mass exterminate us. They didn't want to see them at McDonalds or Target.

A vote was held and the last option was the winner, to the dismay of many. It didn't matter, there were never going to be any answers that did not upset people. Because there were no good answers. We chose to take the supposed high road, and hopefully by choosing it, the aliens would be grateful and not try to kill us all ever again. That's the goal anyways. Call me an optimist.

[removed]

[removed]

I'd buy all of them this story would be too good not to have lots of backups

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So post better prompts.

Yeah, that's upbringing, not because he was literally souless.

Poor mothman.

Yeah but there’s Voldemort evil and there’s Umbridge evil. I think he would always be a shit person, but without the tools to spin it into anything, he might just be middle-management levels of evil.

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It was Tom that was the problem, not the house he was in.

I agree, given the right circumstances, he might have turned out all right, but from the moment he was born he was doomed. As a child, he actively hurt the other children at the orphanage, to the point where two of them were never quite the same afterwards and everyone else was afraid of him. He kept trophies, too - at age eleven!

But he still could have been saved at Hogwarts - if the wizarding community had realized his home life was poor, and had a system in place for orphaned or unwanted magical children, and he'd been taken in by a family like the Weasleys. He could have been taught proper right and wrong, and perhaps he could have been saved.

Tom hunted for his father everywhere in that school for years, assuming that he was the magical one because he believed that had his mother been magical, she could have saved herself. He only looked for Marvolo once he'd been unable to find any Tom Riddle in any records, finding Marvolo Gaunt and his son Morfin. When he was fifteen, he went to see if Morfin was worth knowing, found a filthy, hairy wreck, and was told he looked like a Muggle down in the village that his mother had once run off with. At fifteen/sixteen, he killed his father and paternal grandparents, framed his uncle, and took his uncle's family ring as a trophy. He assumed, and was never told otherwise, that his father had only left his mother because he found out she was a witch - he did not know about the love potion.

He was obsessed with power at age eleven. That stayed throughout his life. He assumed, at age eleven, that dying made his mother weak and non-magical. He kept trophies of his victims, at age eleven. No matter where he was placed, he would likely have turned out evil, because he would have had classes with the Slytherins and been exposed to their ideologies.

Although, yes, he may have become a candy maker.

Stylin' and Profilin'

Mason Maniacal calmly sat down at the poker table in his basement, it was he and Queen Bee's turn to host the monthly schmuck poker game. Will O' The Wisp dealt him into the next hand. Hand sucked, not too much he could do with it. He studied the faces of the five other schmucks around the table. Willow looked like she was about to pop from laughter, Quizzler's eyes were watering, Dr. Neutron had his hand over his mouth, Melinda Muse's face wore the same stoic expression it always did, one perfected from years of walking the runway. Queen Bee, Mason's wife, bit her lip, he knew she was trying not to laugh at him.

Mason folded his hand, flinging the cards hard across the table. "I fold. Okay, out with it! All of youse! Get it out of your systems right now.....or else." He shouted menacingly.

Willow broke first. "You look like Axl Rose after a three day bender in Candyland!" She sputtered out. Everyone laughed, except Mason.

Neutron followed up. "No, no, no. He's going through a Justin Timberlake phase. Are your cornrows going to bring sexy back sometime this decade Mason?" More laughter. Mason played with the stack of poker chips in front of him, quietly.

"Wrong again, doc. He's going for a genderbent, heroin chic Pippy Longstockings. Even his face is turning red, matches the hair. Screams mid-life crisis." Melinda Muse mused.

Quizzler could barely contain himself. "Wish I'd known this was a costume party, although nobody is going to beat Mason's Kevin Federline costume. Really nailed the part, you married up just like he did!"

The laughter continued, along with the witty jabs. Mason joined in with the laughter, an overpowering, insane laughter. With the flick of his wrist he sent poker chips flying through the laughing lips of the schmucks, save for Queen Bee. Before they could remove the obstructions from their throats, hidden restraints in their chairs trapped them in place.

Mason rose slowly, flipping a poker chip as he paced around the table. "Pretty fuckin hard to laugh when you're choking to death. This funny to everybody? Being a good dad who's secure enough in his masculinity to allow a little girl to style his hair? These are all rhetorical questions since none of youse can talk at the moment. You had your fun, now I'm having mine. Mallory!"

A young blonde girl peeked her head down into the basement. "Yeah dad?"

"Sweetie my friends said you did such a good job with my hair, they want you to do theirs. Would you mind?" Mason asked kindly.

"Yay! I'll get my stuff!" Mallory Maniacal screeched with glee.

Mason undid the restraints, he and Queen Bee gave the other schmucks the heimlich. Mason returned to his seat nonchalantly. He shuffled the cards. "Let's keep playing. Please be nice to my daughter while she works her magic, the apple didn't fall too far from the tree with her. She don't take constructive criticism as well as I do."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this check out more at r/StarCityChronicles

"That'll be 34.97" the cashier said in a delayed monotone voice

Mark trashing his satchel "it's gotta be here somewhere"

"Hurry the f--k up fruit" this infuriating voice continued from behind him "what kind of man wears a purse"

Mark eerily turning his head towards the lady

"REPENT WH-RE" a distorted voice spoke from the newly formed mouth that replaced marks eyes

No one else could see the eyes or that even mark was looking towards her. To everyone else he seemed to be searching his satchel

"Ahh here it is - huh?" Mark looking towards the frightened women "ma'am are you okay" "anyways" Mark pays for the items and leaves

"PETRIFIED AND scared" Mark coerced to that voice

After walking home mark covered all the mirrors and any reflective surfaces looking down at this ancient parchment he aligned 5 candles with a star in a pentagon he drew blood from his palm and chanted an unknown language

"MARK" the voice repeated over and over again "COME ON MARK YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS"

"I ask from above and below free me of this parasite and make him go I ask from above or below take this thing and KILL it"

a hot air infiltrated the room taking the unlit candles and pulling them together also pulling Marks blood toward the candles

Phhgu the candles lit making a demonic face with great horns

"what do you want with me a demon lord" - "ANGEL" I spoke arrogantly

" I NEED YOUR HELP"The angel mark pleas with me" please I wrongfully got into heavens and spirits have been haunting me I- i can't catch a break"

"OH what a pity party but as an demon you want me" " an angel to help with what? You Abomination"

"I told you help me get rid of them" Mark sobs

" you fool have you not devote to christ?" " hah" this is what he does now I can't fight your spirits from you but Marc I will greet you with open arms when you arrive to he'll have been tormented by your victims" I laughed back to hell

"That's what happened grandfather" a toddlers voice broke out laughing "

Yes "he was a terrible man a k-ller and r-pist but he didn't even know who or what he did his name was never mark it was dahmer , Jeffery Dahmer"

" where is he now grand pop" the toddlers voice spoke quietly

"Im heaven being tortured by the demons"

They both laughed until the little one went to bed

"Good night Obama"

(I'm sorry if the Obama was offensive to anyone)

[removed]

Well, he did enjoy torturing the other kids at the orphanage, didn't he? "I can make them hurt, if I want to." He got another boy's rabbit to hang itself from the rafters, and a couple of younger kids were so traumatized by him that they were, according to the orphanage head Mrs. Cole, "never quite the same after."

I'm glad it made you laugh, success! She's mostly made up, though some inspiration from tentacled brainsuckers of dnd fame.

Somewhat inspired by them in the tentacles for head grasping yeah!

To me she looks like a normal little girl until they come out, but you can imagine her as anything you like! Death of the author and all that (via brainsucking oh no!).

Oooooh thats gooood, people thinking it's dyslexia, great idea!

This made me laugh! Is she a pre established mythological creature or just a type of zombie you made up?

I sit there looking down at my hands sitting on the lumpy couch in my counsellor's office. My parents talking to Ms. Timon, I have no clue what they're talking about anymore, I had zoned out as soon as we sat down. Whatever it is, I'm happen I got called in during English Englsh. I hate English, I'm a horrible spelling, I don't try to be. I just aways assume they're spelt differently, I remember they were spelt differently. Everytime I bring that up to others they think I'm crazy.

"Som of hr teachrs bleieve Amy is Dysxelic."

My ears pricked up when I here this word. My friends like to call me that as a joke but I never thought it was true. Just because I have a hard time reading and spelling doesn't mean I have mental problems. I'm just bad at English.

"No," I look up, "I'm not. I swear. I'll get better at spelling." All three of them look at me, puzzled. My mother speaks up, "Honee, It's ok. Yuo con't controll it."

"Yes Amy, we wlil giv yuo erxta suprot and maek srue that yuo wun't be limitd in eaxm." Ms Timon chimes in.

"But everyone will think I''m stupid."

Ms Timon shakes her head, "No oen wlil thinc yuo're sturpid. I pormisse."

She turns to my parents and begins to tell them about all of the progams for those who struggle with reading: Tutors, After-school classes, Teachers aids. I sit there quietly, Imagining every single senario in which my peers will use my stupidity against me. I hear the bell ring, that's lunch. I look up at the Ms Timon, "Can I leave now?"

She nods. I rush out of the room and I don't look back. I walk out of the administartors building and make eye contact with Jamie Hill. She uses this oppurtunity to speak to me, "Hy Amy, I herd yuo're dysxelic, how deos it feel tp be sturpid." I feel a sour look reach my face. A promise my ass.

i loved it! nice job, Adding the whole auto correct thing was a really nice touch.

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

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Carrie leaned against the railing of the bridge, haloed by a bright lamp that had to have been installed not more than a month ago. She stared into the sky, trying to pinpoint with her naked eye the trajectory of that which would be not just her undoing, but the world's. She knew it was coming - they all did - and yet, it was still too dark to see. Nevertheless, it was only days away.

In the brush surrounding the bridge, she could hear the crickets chirping, and the cicadas buzzing further off. There were a lot of insects around these parts, and she was familiar with most. As a child, she came to this very spot to hunt for ladybugs. She came back when she was older to share her first kiss with the star quarterback from her high school. She returned here to burn the photos of that failed relationship. She arrived here days ago to end it all, when she found out the meteorite was on its way.

Like the trajectory of the celestial doombringer, it was hard to pinpoint why she was still here, why she hadn't taken that leap. The drop was steep enough. She knew that if she landed right, it would be her curtain call. Maybe it was her family that anchored her. Maybe it was a deep, gnawing fear of death. She chuckled quietly to herself, pondering the inescapable. It was going to happen at some point, regardless of whether or not she wanted it. Maybe it was something else.

Something rustled in the bushes, just then. A deer, Carrie thought, but she turned to look anyway, only to be met with glowing eyes that peered at her from the shadows. She froze in place, her muscles too tight to move. A deep, shaking breath filled her lungs as she watched the eyes get closer and larger, the light of the bridge revealing the face of a gigantic moth creature. Walking on human legs, it approached the middle of the bridge and paused, turning its head to the same sky Carrie looked at moments before. It walked to the railing, grabbing onto it with its segmented arms. As it watched the sky, its wings lightly fluttered and spread open only partway.

For a while, Carrie didn't move, afraid to earn its ire, but a peculiar motion from the creature caused the fear to leave her body. The moth creature lifted its arm and pointed to the sky, its wings rubbing together to form clicks and chirps as it turned to look at her. Carrie looked back into the sky, watching the stars flicker.

"You understand what's happening, don't you?" she asked, turning to read the moth's face.

The creature nodded.

"Are you..."

Carrie hesitated to ask the question. It was hardly more than rhetorical, but an opportunity like this would never come again.

"Are you scared?"

The creature paused, then slowly nodded again. Carrie could see the nervousness in its movements. Carefully, she stepped closer, and with each advance, her ears became more aware of the roaring ambience that was starting to build, and that was when she realized why she couldn't see it: it was going to hit the other side of the world first. She would only see the wave of fire that would come to claim her and the creature.

Down below, she watched the city of Point Pleasant become engulfed in flames and destruction. Even from here, Carrie could hear the frantic screams of a lost people, doomed to extinction. They needed an outlet for their uncertainty and fear, and violence was that outlet.

"Why are you here?" she asked the moth creature. "Why did you choose to show yourself to me?"

The creature responded by moving closer, lightly pressing its fuzzy body against her arm. Carrie looked down and smiled. "Ah," she lamented.

"I s--"

A deafening, thunderous, world-shaking crack exploded through the atmosphere. The ground suddenly shifted back and forth, as if an earthquake just made itself known. Carrie felt herself losing grip on the bridge, only to be caught within the creature's arms. She looked up at it, eyes wide in horror before she scrambled to her feet and back to the railing, watching the horizon grow alight in a brilliant orange. As the temperature suddenly scaled to sweltering heights, she looked to the creature and mouthed several words, her voice taken away by the overwhelming blare of death's trumpet sounding the end.

The creature took Carrie into its arms and hugged tightly, staring at the quickly-approaching blade of fire that eviscerated all in its path. Carrie, thankful not to be alone in the moment, shut her eyes tight.

Her hearing was the first to go. All else followed.