Below Orion’s sneakers, he could feel the crunch as the frozen blades of grass were broken. The sun just barely cleared the three story red white brick building as it kissed the football field. The glass walls of the high school lobby focused the sunlight on the field. Orion kept his gaze downward to shield his eyes from the sunlight; his hoodie kept the morning draft from biting him too badly. Nonetheless, Orion kept moving at a brisk pace to get out of the cold sooner. Although he was early for his first class, he enjoyed the peaceful walk in the morning before most students arrived.

As he made his way across the field, his eyes spotted a dark line across the ground. A long narrow shadow was cast in his direction as the stick that cast it protruded upright from the ground stood spotlighted by the morning sun. Orion kept walking, not paying much attention to it; however, as he got closer the stick glistened. The sunlight reflected off the stick almost looked like it was winking at him.

Wondering what kind of stick could reflect light, Orion walked up to the stick and bent down to examine it. Much to his surprise, it seemed to be made of metal. In fact it was so smooth and rose gold colored, he wondered if it wasn’t some sort of expensive piece of jewelry one of the rich kids had lost. As he squinted in the sunlight to see clearer, he found that there were fins on the top as if it was an arrow.

“Arrow shaped jewelry? I guess rich people have different tastes,” Orion thought, but he knew the right thing was to turn it into lost and found. “I suppose it might have sentimental value and be irreplaceable,” he rationalized as he bent down to pick the arrow up.

Immediately as soon as he touched the arrow, a thousand voices whispered in his mind. Each one was conveying different things. Some told him stories of gods while others spoke of eternity. Orion fell to the ground and knew that he was destined to go mad. The onslaught was more than just voices although that was enough to destroy anyone. As the voices spoke, they seemed to have a direct connection to his mind. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t hear any single word as they all overlapped with each other; the information they imparted was being imprinted on his mind with no relief in sight.

“Peace,” an overarching feminine voice commanded. Suddenly it all dulled down and faded away. All the stories, counsel, and details the voices spoke of faded from Orion’s mind leaving only a faded imprint. He had curled up on the ground by now and despite the return to normalcy, couldn’t quite muster the energy or courage to get back up. As he focused on taking breaths, he eventually found his sanity. By the time he opened his eyes, the sun had settled into its place in the sky and was firmly shining over him.

Orion looked around to see if the woman who saved him was still around. Seeing no one, he became more confused. He knew that he must have been on the floor for more than just a couple of minutes so perhaps she simply didn’t want to wait for him. Of course even that explanation hardly explained a tenth of what had occurred. Deciding that he needed a mental health day, he decided to get up and go home.

As he got up, he saw the arrow was still in the ground. “Nope. No way. It’s going to be someone else’s problem,” he thought. “But what if someone else experiences what I did? It’s dangerous to leave that lying around.” And yet he couldn't bring himself to touch the arrow again; the fear of having to suffer like that was quite strong. As Orion stood there deliberating, the arrow flew out of the ground.

Only the shock of something flying at him, could have made Orion do what he did next. Without thinking, Orion grabbed the arrow as it flew backwards at him. Instantly, as he touched the arrow again, he knew he was safe. No voices came to overwhelm him. Instead, he became filled with purpose. From within him, a singular voice spoke; it was genderless and without tone or inflection as only a soundless voice could produce.

“You hold within your hand an arrow of Cupid. Any instrument of the gods holds within it the ability to upset the balance of the world for both good and evil in equal stride. Only in the hands of a god can it be safely shielded from the world. If it were to be left alone in the mortal realm, death will follow without fail, for that is the price for any cosmic shift. So did Mother Flame and Father Aether decree and so has it been for all time.”

“If only gods can touch it, why am I holding it?” Orion nervously thought. As he stood there with the arrow in hand, he heard the sounds of a crowd of students. Not sure how much of the day he had missed, he suddenly realized he had no idea what time it was. As he listened to the students through the large floor to ceiling window of the school lobby, he realized that the school day must be over as the students were making their way from the classroom to their lockers and then exiting the building.

Orion wanted to get out of there, but he also felt drawn to the crowd. He desperately wanted some sense of normalcy and needed to talk to someone about all of this. He scanned the crowd and looked for a familiar face. As luck would have it, his best friend, Sarah, walked out of the school. He started to walk towards her when she spotted him and smiled and ran towards him. Still weak from his experience, Orion stopped and waited for her to get to him.

“Hey there stranger! Were you in class today? I didn’t see you in Geometry, “ Sarah smiled again as she approached him. She was always a positive bubbly person that seemed to embody joy itself. “What’s that in your hand?”

“Hey Sarah, man am I glad to see you, “ Orion started to say. “ This thing is -”

“Sharing even knowledge of the gods' tools is enough to disrupt the pendulum upon which we swing,” the voice of knowledge spoke once again stopping Orion from telling Sarah his tale. “The arrow must be returned to Cupid for the safety of all.”

“This thing is what?” Sarah asked. She watched Orion still smiling waiting for him to finish his thought.

“It’s…” Orion began, but still not sure what he was going to say.

“Hey Sarah, let’s go! Practice is starting!” Orion was interrupted again by a group of girls in cheerleader uniforms. They were standing on the side of the football field. “Coach wants us to do a few warm up laps around the field before we head back into the gym.”

“Ugh, I’ll catch up with you after. Will you hang out and wait for me to finish practice? We can walk home together.” Sarah asked. Her smile suddenly faded as she said, “There’s something I need to talk about.”

“Um, sure.” Orion agreed as he didn’t really know what he’d do even if he was to head home right now. It wasn’t like Cupid would be in his living room. He also thought it would be good to sit down some more before moving too much. Orion slipped the arrow in his backpack.

As Orion headed into the school lobby to sit down, he watched the cheerleaders start their lap around the field. By the time he settled himself on the benches in the lobby, two very cold cheerleaders had finished their laps and walked into the lobby. They sat on the benches across on the other side of the lobby as they waited for their teammates to finish.

“So he did it in the middle of biology? What an asshole!” One of them asked. Neither of them paid much attention to Orion, only focusing on warming themselves up and chatting with each other.

“Yea he’s a tool for sure. Poor Sarah. No one deserves to be dumped publicly like that, least of all a sweetheart like her”

“Let’s take her out after practice and cheer her up.”

“Great idea! Let’s go tell coach we need to end practice early”

The two cheerleaders ran back outside. As the doors opened, a cold gust of wind from the outside hit Orion, but he didn’t mind. He couldn’t believe Sarah’s boyfriend would do something like that to her. Another gust of wind slapped Orion’s face and he noticed the doors didn’t close. He got up to close the door. As he reached the door, he could see the coach talking to the team. It seemed like she was letting the team skip practice completely.

Orion stood by the door watching the girls gather their things and head to the parking lot and their cars. Only Sarah was heading towards him. She jogged her way across the field and quickly reached the doors. Orion opened the door for her so she could get out of the cold quickly.

I lie for eons as dead as a god can be. When the new house is built at the edge of the village, I have the patience to wait. I gather my power. And one day, when she steps out to see the sunrise, I expend it all to call a breeze and make autumn leaves dance on the ground. Just for a moment, but it’s enough for her to notice. She smiles wide with delight. A small act of worship for a small wonder, but enough to give me life again.

On a winter morning, she comes out again. This time, I make birds dance around her. She claps her hands with joy this time, and the following day she puts out a feeder for the birds. An altar to me.

She is my one worshiper, and I am bound to her altar. I make her front yard a place of delight. The sunrises are more colorful, the birdsong sweeter. In the fall, the leaves crackle just so. She too grows more delightful too under my gaze. The wind teases her hair, the sunlight makes her eyes sparkle. Her fingers dance as she feeds the birds, an offering at my altar. Here, where my power reaches, she is the most beautiful of all creatures.

Others notice her loveliness, of course. Men come to call. She is sweet to them, but I can see that she does not need their attention. And neither do I. Her worship is enough for me; and my wonders are enough for her. We are perfectly matched in that way.

She doesn’t need my help, I can see now. Her grace is her own. The sunrises are all the more radiant for being seen through her eyes.

Everyone knows gods live off the worship of mortals. But what happens when a god worships a mortal? She will become something like a goddess herself. Her beauty will never fade. She will be bound to this place, as I am.

We will never be parted.

Simple idea but effective.

A heroine and villainess falling in love

Male dwarf. Female elf. Modern fantasy setting, sitting at home in thier living room, planning the wedding.

I never thought we'd grow old together.

Everyone knows how the story goes. Boy meets girl, girl meets boy, they fall in love and spend the rest of their lives as they are, free to enjoy each other as their prime selves, unchanged.

When I met my husband we were both young, practically children. He was a local boy, working as a bartender across the street from the university I attended. I remember he had this affable glow around him, friends with everyone who walked through the door, never let a bad night get him down. I thought it was a ploy to get better tips. Then he talked to me.

It was a slow night. A day or so before spring break, most of my friends had already bailed after their last final. I was one of two people in the bar. He served me a whiskey sour, on the house, and we got to talking. I'd never loved the sound of someone's voice so much. We talked about everything. Our friends, our childhoods, our plans for the future. I wanted to be a doctor, he wanted to take over and possibly expand the family bar. Before we knew it, it was 3am and he was closing up the bar before following me back to my dorm room for the night.

I was supposed to spring break at a beach house owned my roommate's uncle. Instead, I spent the next two weeks in his apartment, more naked than clothed.

Two years later, we were married.

It was a small ceremony, only ten people came. We celebrated by drinking and dancing in the very bar we met in. I'd never been happier.

Those first few years of marriage were mostly bliss. Medical school wasn't easy, he was butting heads with his father at the bar but we had each other. We had our own place and we were completely in love. Neither of us aged a bit.

Things got a little tough when I started my residency. He worked days, I worked days and nights. We did it our best to make time for one another but it wasn't easy. Some days it felt like I was roommates with a ghost that liked to leave sweet post-it notes on the walls. I love you. Have a good day at work. Those nurses are bitches. Seems stupid now but those little notes were all that got me through the day sometimes. And of course, I put in effort too. Stopping by the bar after work even when I was exhausted. Perking myself up for date nights even when my feet were killing me. It was worth it to make him happy. It was hard but we loved each other, you could tell by the lack of wrinkles.

The pregnancy was where things really went awry. I remember the two of us pacing around each other in the apartment, waiting for the timer in the bathroom to ring. I was floored when I saw the plus sign. What kind of a doctor gets pregnant on accident? He couldn't keep the smile off his face though. "Would it really be so bad?" he asked. "Having a little person around this place, with a little of me and a little of you in them?" Then I couldn't keep the smile off my face.

Well at least for a little while. Then he said those eight fatal words...

"When do you think you'll quit your job?"

We had the biggest fight of our entire relationship. Tears shed, accusations thrown, doors slammed (by me). He was insistent. I couldn't be a resident and pregnant mother. It was too much work, too much stress. He was worried that it would be too much for me and the baby. I was worried that he was being a complete asshole, trying to keep me literally barefoot and pregnant in the apartment while all my dreams for the future flew out the window.

I spent two days at my mother's house. She told me not to be stubborn and pigheaded. He begged my forgiveness so I decided to come home. After a long, much calmer talk, he agreed that my working was for the best, someone had to pay off my student loans after all. I suppose you could say I won that fight.

But it was hard to feel that way when later that night, as I ran a comb over my scalp, I noticed one single strand of gray hair.

I liked it. Well done.

Is this some kind of timeline where we developed all sci-fi shenanigans but they all worked out for the betterment of humanity? Like, Ultron for example?

I don't find it disrespectful, personally. I do really like the letter though! Thanks for the prompt!

Lord Rowan felt cold rage running in his veins as he peered through his ambaric viewer at the village below. He had imagined finding Lydia dead, or even – heaven forbid – held captive, suffering a fate worse than death in some chieftan’s smoke-filled tent. He had steeled himself for such eventualities, and comforted himself with thoughts of the vengeance he would wreck on the primitives who did it.

What he hadn’t expected was to see Lydia out and about in the village, dressed in skins like an ancient savage herself. Good Lord, was she skinning a deer? Was she their slave?

This was Lydia’s own fault, he knew. A chronovelic excursion was no place for a lady, but she had insisted and badgered so relentlessly he had finally attempted to find a safe destination for her to accompany him to. He should have been stronger, he realized now, for both of their sakes.

What had they done to Lydia, he wondered? Her movements were unladylike; one of the other primitive females had said something in their own tongue, and Lydia responded with an undignified cackle of laughter. He had never heard her make such a sound before. He had to rescue her, he thought as he reached for his elecro-rifle.

No, Lord Rowan suddenly realized. He had heard her cackle like that before. Before they were married; when she was a girl, and he was a young scholar, and she would insist on hearing the gossip from the academy. He would make her laugh like that then.

A tribesman approached Lydia, and she turned and – oh, God – kissed him full on the lips. Lord Rowan squeezed the rifle and prepared to take aim.

She used to kiss him like that, when he would come upstairs from the laboratory, from another long day and night of failed experimentation, to find her still at her sewing. Before the chronoveler. Before the lordship.

When had she last kissed him like that, he wondered? When had she last laughed like that?

Lord Rowan thought of the Lydia he knew now: shrill-voiced and pinched, choked with rage at some society snub or some transgression of his own. Not the girl he had loved, he had found himself thinking before.

He looked through the ambaric viewer. The woman down in the village laughed again and fed some cooked meat to the tribesman. No, that was not his Lydia, not anymore. That woman was far too happy.

Lydia had died, he decided he would tell the academy. A tragic accident during an irresponsible chronovelic experiment. There would be some censure, to be sure, but it would be mild. She was only a woman, after all. Yes, Lord Rowan decided. That would be the best solution all around. Quietly, he lowered his elecro-rifle, and began to prepare to return home.

Now, I know what you're going to say. "Petulant little sword," you'll think. "Wants to have it exactly his way, picky little thing."

Now listen. I can condone violence. Of course you already know I *encourage* it. But it has to be done *right* or else there's no point, is there? So when this guy comes strutting along, ranting about destroying his enemies, I of course sent out a vibe to lure him in. I'd been sitting under river muck for nearly 50 years, it was time for my glorious comeback!

Except he was a raging narcissist.

And, look, I love bloodshed. I love when they scream my name before every killing stroke. But this idiot was screaming *his own name* when he was cutting down his foes! *His* name! Who does that?! What kind of egomaniac... Yes yes, I know it's hypocritical but evil is *my* thing, I can't have someone go and take all the credit for my sharp edge. Do you know how often I get whetted? Literally only when I was made. No one puts in the work, so I do not *appreciate* being a side character in my own bloody quest!

So of course I had to start a war among potentials, and it was great fun, really. I just amped up the bloodlust until he started swinging in a crowd, and sent out my hate-filled vibe. Oh, they tore each other to pieces, I'd never felt so alive.

You know, until they all died. And the locals didn't even bother coming to bury them all, claiming it was cursed land.

*Again* someone else gets credit, obviously it's not the *land* that's cursed... Ugh.

So here I sit, talking to crows for another Gods-only-know how long. At least I can't physically rust.

I don't suppose your talons are strong enough to carry me..?

Edit Sorry, I forgot about the "turn him good" part of the prompt... Anyway I had fun writing it.

I feel calm. Too calm. Was I drugged? I didn't feel drugged, but, then again, would I really know what that felt like? Maybe not. Was this what it felt like? To feel calm when I should be panicking?

I tugged on the ropes binding my arms behind the back of the chair. I didn't really expect them to loosen up, but I didn't have much else to do. They were still tight. Not constricting, just not something I could easily escape without tearing flesh from my hands. If they were my hands. Wait. What? Where did that thought come from?

The door slowly opened. Allowing in enough light to momentarily blind me. I turned my head away and grunted in pain. The gag prevented me from telling the person to close the door.

"I know the light hurts, Captain Franklin," a male voice said. It resonated with sympathy.

"But you need to try to focus your eyes," he went on, "We only have a limited amount of time."

I grunted my understanding and tried to let my eyes adjust. After a few seconds the blurry shape standing in the door started to resolve into a form that was recognizably human. Not recognizable in the sense I knew the man, I didn't, but it was definitely human. A youngish man with a complexion I thought of as Hispanic for some reason. Up until ten seconds ago I wouldn't have been able to tell you what the word "Hispanic" meant but, suddenly, the word just leaped into my head and attached itself to this man's features. He was wearing a long sleeved shirt with a picture of a bull on the front. I thought it might be some sort of sports jersey but I couldn't tell more than that. He wore a baseball cap on his head and had a small fringe of a goatee on his chin. In one hand he held a steaming cup of something.

"It's tea," he explained without me being able to ask, "It'll help more than anything else. Believe me, I've been where you are. If I turn on the light do you think you will be okay?"

The light in the room still came from behind him. It didn't hurt as much as it did a moment ago so I nodded. He smiled and flipped a switch beside the door. A naked bulb over my head flickered to life. The light it cast was a warm color that somehow gave the entire episode a cheery ambiance that seemed completely at odds with my situation.

"I'm going to remove the gag," he said slowly, "And let you take a drink. If you scream, it goes back in. Got it?"

I nodded again. He smiled kindly and pulled the gag free and brought the cup to my lips. I sipped and, no, it did not taste good at all. I wanted to choke on it. But as he promised, a buzzing headache I hadn't even realized was there started to settle. He lowered the cup.

"You called me Franklin," I said at last, "Why don't I know that name? Why don't I remember anything?"

"It's normal," he explained, "A side effect of the process."

"What process?" I asked, "What's going on? And . . . why am I taking this so well?"

"Because this ain't your first trip," he explained, "And, somewhere in that ball of gray mush, you recognize that. This is good, Captain, it means you'll have full coherence soon."

"Coherence?"

The Hispanic man nodded and held the cup to my lips again. I sipped once more. Something seemed to fall in place.

"Who are you?" I asked, "Why do I feel like I know you? Except, no, I'm sure I don't at the same time."

"My name is Hwang," he said," And, yes, you do know me. Just not like this. I went through the Entanglement Vortex 24 hours before you did, sir."

"The-?"

"Time travel as depicted in stories is impossible," he interrupted, clearly feeling easing me into the subject wasn't working, "At least as far as we can tell with current technology. Moving a physical object back in time is not possible. What is possible, however, is transferring information. The Entanglement Vortex sets up a sort of quantum resonance across time between your mind and an acceptable host in the target time period. Before you can fully synchronize the receptacle has to be in a non-observable state. That's why we tossed it in a locked room. sir."

"Wait, you lost me," I stammered, "You're saying what? This isn't my body?"

"No, sir," Hwang explained, "Our current technology only allows us to override the native intellect for a period of 36 hours. So we pick subjects who are scheduled to die or disappear in that time frame - generally due to violence so we aren't impaired by poor health - and your mind some 250 years in the future pilots it while your real body is maintained on life support. As the zero hour of the original death arrives we pilot it to the site of death and eject when it is too late to violate causality. This way we get to interact with the time line in a more controlled manner. Got it?"

"We hijack bodies of people who are about to die?"

Hwang nodded.

"This one is due to die in a gang shooting in the next 6 hours or so," he agreed, "Your host jumps off a building the day after tomorrow. Right after his wife files for divorce when she discovers his affair."

My stomach churned and I nodded for more tea. He lifted the cup once more and allowed me a long swallow.

"That's awful," I gasped, "Why would we do such a horrible thing?"

"Captain," Hwang said, "I know your memory is still not all the way back, but when you do recall the events of the 187 Minute War as well as the aftermath, you'll understand better. If we do not stop that war from occurring, the entire human race will go extinct in less than a generation."

I was certain that more tea would not help. Hwang grimaced and set the cup down. He started untying me.

A small, unknown God of small wonders and nothingness falling in love with a woman that "accidentally" builds a temple for him to live in near her home.

Alex sat down in a folding chair near the steps that led to into the main house. The Ouja board in his lap.

When do you need it? The board quickly spelled out

"Today would be great."

How much?

"$100 bucks"

Really?

Yes please, the house gets a bit chilly even though I've tried my best to patch it up and insulate every room upstairs.

fine

Alex gazed in astonishment as a stack of of money appeared in a glowing ball of light infront of him.

"That was fast" Alex grabbed the warm stack of paper from midair.

We're dead not dumb.

I-I'm sorry I wasn't expecting you all to get it so quick.

Thank you Alex practically jumped to his feet and ran up the steps slamming the door behind him.

"No wonder this house was cheep!"

Cyberpunk-style, two friends on an interstellar way-station/space station people-watching. This is where they met; unbeknownst to the other, both of them have rings in their pockets (feel free to play with the ring idea and make it into a different marriage/partnership-related tradition or make one/both of them aliens or something)

Wonderful. Love the boomer jokes and best of luck with that leprechaun man

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Two surfer lovers go on a romantic beach walk after a competition

Cocaine Bear sequel

I was hoping this wasn't JoJo

[NO]

N O G H O S T H E R E

I know I feel bad for it

And that bear turned out to be William Wallace.

Sir Bearington is a fucking national treasure!