Your content is always so well written :') Any tips on writing short stories like this?

I could picture the opposite. Maybe like... ........ (tl;dr at the end)

INT. - Noon - Lone Long Roady's Pine Gas-taurant

One late evening after a loud and barking argument, cursing the mother and fancy red van of your entitled, dead beat boss, you leave the office and decide to go home early. Maybe this time for good.

On your way out, Leslie, the loving woman that she always was, keys on hand was about to ask you to take over the closingshift. But she's an observant one, catching a glimpse at your left over sterness and the room's mood made her stop and re-consider.

Shutter it out, you thought, have nothing to be seen of the recent spitting and ruddy catharsis. You avoid her questions and willingly cave in to her original ask. You know very well, she could use a day off.

Boss is a greedy lowlife bastard after all. Never leaves the dam office anyways, so why not stick around with headphones on? Just ignore the world, one last time.

EXT. - Night - Lone Long Roady's Pine Gas-taurant

Later that night, it's just you with the keys, the back door, and whatever ad interrupted the playlist, gross. With the headphones off you retake stock of your surroundings, too late ofcourse. A sharp cold and warm pulse forces you to numbness. Coming to, no phone, no keys, but a pumping migraine to sober you up.

The door is wide open; putting two and two, even through the delirium, you decide to bolt out. Great!, they took the car keys too. A quick look through the door, it is clear you're out of options. Next town is not within walking distance; maybe wait it out. Brake a window or something if they close up behind them... nah, could thieves ever be so clean?

You wait. Grand dad's watch says it's witching hour. Why aren't they out already? And why ain't the alarms on?... Freezing out here... being feast to the Mothman don't seem like the smartest move. A hammer, just where you left it; maybe you can sneak up on the goons inside if you cross paths.

Returning to the door, it's now locked.

The voice. Rasp. Gruff. Close but... far? Your are beckoned by name.

The lumbering blemish of madded dark spoke from behind the low lit curtain of fog between you. It's appendage ending in a heavy hand, closing off the trunk door of a familiar red van. Those were body bags. The migraine reered back in avid dread, fearing a torture as unthinkable as this silent fiend.

Such daze made this amalgamed tumor of shapes make less sense when you understood it. Once aproaching, it slowly met at eye level, more and more... clear. Blinking once... twice... a hand pierced the divide, offering your keys, phone and broken headphones by...

"You can drive?"

INT. - ? - Multiple locations

You simply answered your boss as if nothing happened. In retrospective, the following weeks, you wrestle through the mental objection. You got checked by the doctors, you were assaulted. That night happened... Leslie's worried...

You meet at The Dinner and smoothed things over with some lazy cover-up where logic in the story seems to brake for you. She docent buy it, you both know it, but fear to dwell in conjecture or whatever rat poison conspiracy the Sherif goes on about. But what else are you supposed to tell yourself, let alone anyone?

EXT. - Day - Pine Long Roady's Gas-taurant

Next morning you ask Sammy to let you take over opening duties. He's always an hour late so any excuse works out, whatever gets him by, I guess. Now, you know your Boss is there, alone, like always somehow.

If they could have torn your face off they would've done so long ago. They have been brazen, stupid, annoying, and just all round... ancient... but never got a vibe they were.... anyway. It makes this brusk entrance easier.

INT. - Day - Office

You enter the office, same as at the start. Yep, they're here, as usual, not like you ever questioned a sleezy scum bag's schedule. They look up from writing some whatever documents, expectingly.

You, in your ever so eloquent delivery, finally ask.

"What the hell was that?"

Tl:Dr :

What if your boss was the monsterous cryptid that just wants to make money and live peace. And you're the problematic employee that needs this job but hates their guts. One late evening, after being assaulted by thieves you discover a glimpse of their true nature.

[removed]

...god fucking dammit...

I should've known my activism would lead me to this point.

It was common sense that the president wasn't a magic wizard whose powers just happened to be undetectable. Who even started such a ridiculous rumor?

It started off as a joke. "I should be president because I can make the sun go dark," he'd declared at the start of his campaign. The next day was a solar eclipse. Most people took it as a regular joke, but there were some people who thought he was serious. Surely, he'd mentioned that at his next speech: "My first act as president will be to make our education system better."

But then, he rolled with it. His supporters thought he was some sort of god. Over an eclipse! My friends and I laughed about it for weeks.

"With my weather powers, I will make it rain tomorrow!" he said the next week. He was in Seattle in the middle of winter, and the meteorologists were already confident on the rain. Somehow, more people started to accept him as a wizard.

I felt like I was losing my mind, but it was actually all of society who were. Slowly, more and more people started to accept him as their new wizard-god-overlord-president. Over the course of three years, it became a social pariah to mention that you didn't believe him. Even my friends, the ones who had laughed with me over the eclipse incident, would scoff if I tried to mention how ridiculous it was.

The only place to go was the internet. And sure, I wasn't too careful about it, but it was still a free country for the moment.

Then, one day, I came home from work to find all my friends and family sitting in my living room. I immediately regretted giving my mother a spare key. "Come, sit," she said, already teary-eyed.

"What?" I gave a weird smile as I sat down on my couch in between my parents. "What's going on?"

"We've found your online blog," my father said.

"What, the one about the president?" I rolled my eyes. "It doesn't say anything too bad."

"This is clearly unhealthy," my father continued. "There is so much evidence that President Isaac is a god."

My jaw dropped open. "Are you serious? There is no proof."

"We've already contacted a mental hospital. This is for your own good, Katie."

"You're insane," I snapped as I tried to book it to the front door. Instead, I was met with the buffest men I had ever seen, who put me in handcuffs and threw me into the back of a creepy white van.

Two hours later, and I was finally dragged out and into the hospital. It looked like it was from every horror movie about asylums I had ever seen. Standing there was a woman with impeccable posture and the tightest bun I had ever seen.

"Welcome to Avondale," she said.

"What's Avondale?"

She smiled. "Your grip on reality is too strong for this society. Welcome to the Sane Asylum."

I grew up across the street from a police officer. One day he came home with a used chihuahua. The chihuahua and its prior owner had been in a car accident. The chihuahua was in full demon mode and successfully defended its owner against the first responders - it would not let them get near. The man died from his injuries (because the first responders could not treat him), and the demon chihuahua immediately adopted a new familiar - my neighbor who had arrived on scene. “Old human slave dead, you are my human slave now” sort of thing. The dog loved my neighbor and followed him everywhere. It loathed this guy’s wife and daughters (and everyone else) and would snarl at them and try to bite them if they came near “his” human.

"Where are we going? I'm quite happy where I am and I haven't done anything wrong.", I said, annoyed by the suit and the two goons that had showed up on my doorstep.

"You can do this the easy way or the hard way Mr Yibblibobbly".

"For the third time, that is not my name. I am James Kowalski".

"Brrraaapp! Listen to the sanity on this one!".

The suit started hopping on one leg and the goons followed, guffawing like demented gorilla amputees.

"Come with us Mr babbly Bibby, there are plenty of comfy chairs in the sane asylum!", the suit screeched, eyes rolling. Without warning, one of his hoodlums jumped me and I was forcibly dragged into the back of the windowless van, the door slammed behind. Inside was a hot tub lit in lurid neon green lighting, filled with purple foam and containing a rubber duck. I was fully clothed and hence soaked.

I sat up inside the tub and held on for dear life as the van screeched off and veered across the road while the suit and his goons honked the horn and sang sea shanties loudly and raucously. The journey lasted around an hour but i wasn't sure as they had confiscated my phone and watch. Most of the foam from the hot tub was emptied due to the erratic driving by the time we arrived at the destination.

The doors were opened and I slid out onto the grass in a pool of purple foam, dazzled by the bright light of the sun. "Where are we?" I moaned, nursing my bruises from the hellish journey.

"Why it's Snoop Dog's house of course! He's the most sane person alive! YARRRRRRP".

With that I was hoisted over the wall and rudely dumped onto the grass. The goons and the suit could be heard howling like dogs as they drove rapidly away. Snoop Dog was there on the lawn waiting for me with a cup of tea and a scone.

Marvelous. Not what I expected at all, but carries all the hubris of a Greek myth. Excellent!

"Here ya go. You ordered the number 3 with a Coke, right?"

The driver looked annoyed when he replied, "You mean a Diet Coke, right?"

"Oh, you're right, that is a Diet."

About that time, screams erupted from behind the drive-thru-guy. He turned to the driver of the car and said, "You need to go. Something bad's happening in the dining room. Call the cops, okay?"

As the driver sped off, Michael ripped off his apron and sped to the dining room. He stopped in his tracks when he came around the corner. Standing in the middle of the dining room was an 8 foot tall fiery demon. There was liquid fire running from his mouth, and he looked like he was about to put the kids in the ball pit on the lunch menu.

Michael yelled out, "Beelzebub, is that you?"

Beelzebub spun around and asked, "Michael, is that you? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, say what you want, but Heaven gets boring. Forever is a long time! Every millenia or so, I take a vacation here. And let me tell you, Jesus is not the guy you remember. He used to be so chill, but ever since the crucifixion, he's a different guy. Always so serious. But, what about you? This isn't your style."

"Mike, some total dumb ass used a summoning spell to force me to come here and kill the Manager, and anybody else here."

"Yeah I have to say I get it. The manager's an asshole. But I have a plan for him."

"Michael you know the rules. I don't kill all these assholes, and I can't go home."

"Bub let me fix it for ya."

The demon paused, shook his head, and there were tears turning to steam as they tracked down his face, "You'd do that for me?"

"Bub... buddy, how long we known each other? Of course I would. Just don't eat anybody."

Michael gestured toward a table that wasn't on fire and said, "I'm going in the kitchen and making us some food. We need to catch up. It feels like forever since The Fall."

Beelzebub turned to the screaming people and said, "That is the nicest angel you'll ever meet. Real down to earth that one."

Edited: Writing on your cell phone at midnight leaves a little to be desired.

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Slowly, I turned my head and gazed upon the lifeless bodies of my party, littered about like refuse.

We certainly aren’t legendary adventurers or mighty heroes, but for all of us to fall to a single foe is unthinkable; this demon is truly fearsome.

“What’s the matter mender? All out of spells? Your friends aren’t looking so well.” The demon mocked me, her inky black tongue slipped out of her mouth and flailed like a fish while she spoke.

Curiously, despite the grim situation, despite certain doom patiently waiting in front of me— I felt no fear. An eerie contentedness consumed me.

“Pah! Friends?” I snarled. “These bastards have been lugging me around to god-knows-where for over a year now. I’m bloody sick of them.”

I pulled the collar of my shirt down to reveal a limestone green shackle—a slaver’s collar.

“Ohh? Humans truly are ruthless, aren’t they?” She tilted her head, allowing her loose tongue to dangle freely.

“This may just be wishful thinking, but perhaps the demon army could use a world-class healer. What say you, Vakara Black-Blood?

Her obsidian eyes rounded with intrigue as she tilted her head to the opposite direction.

“You know of me?”

“Any healer worth their salt has at least heard whispers. They call you an immortal and-” I paused. “After having seen your vitality firsthand, I may have to agree.”

Vakara’s regeneration was, after all, the reason why my party had such trouble fighting her. She wasn’t much faster or stronger than your average monster, but any wound, regardless of severity, began healing instantly and would close up, usually, within seconds— even when Helga lobbed off an arm, it had completely regrown in under a minute.

Brazenly, I took a few steps forward.

“Well, how about it?” I said, presenting myself afore her. “If you don’t think I’d be useful, you can just off me like the lot of them. No point in putting up a fruitless struggle.”

The corners of Vakara’s mouth curled into a veiled smile before she began to approach me.

“Well, I can’t say-“

“YUHHHHG!”

Before Vakara could give me a response, the heavily injured Helga leapt up from her prone position and delivered a tremendous blow, wedging her axe deep into Vakara’s spine with a wet slapping crunch.

“GAHH! How on earth are you still alive?!” Vakara screeched while throwing Helga clear over her shoulder and flat onto the ground.

The impact forced a fountain of blood to erupt from Helga’s mouth.

“Tsk. I guess…” Helga began to speak mutedly, but her words trailed off as the glimmer in her eyes faded.

With Helga, once again, taken care of, Vakara’s attention returned to me. Approaching with barred fangs, it would seem she intended to take my life as well now.

“So, was that your plan then, decoy? Damn humans, can’t trust a word-“

“I’m just as surprised as you. I thought that big bitch was dead.” I spoke curtly.

“Pfft!” Stopping in her tracks, Vakara loosed a small cackle. “As far as humans go, I find you less intolerable than most but-“ She paused to pick her words. “I simply think I’m incapable of trusting one, you see.” Her eyes sharpened as she approached with killing intent.

The axe wedged deep in her back popped out with a metallic clang. Her regeneration was, apparently, slower when foreign objects were wedged inside the wound.

Prefacing with a sigh, I spoke. “Trust isn’t necessarily necessary.” I pulled up my pony-tail and revealed the crest on the back of my slaver’s collar. “Breaking out of these cursed things is nigh impossible, but with a little trickery, I should be able to imprint you as a secondary owner.”

Vakara paused and tilted her head once again. “And what of your original master? Surely their orders will take precedence.”

“Not if you kill him.”

In a very human-like manner, Vakara scratched her pointed chin as if deep in thought.

Just one more push and I think I can convince her.

“Take my offer and you’ll not only gain me as a permeant ally, but you’ll also be able to share my slaver’s collar trick with whomever you please. How many of your kin toil in eternal bondage, unable to lift a finger against their oppressors? We can free all of them.”

After some brooding, she wordlessly approached me and placed her clawed hand atop the slaver’s crest. “Ssshow me.” She slithered.

“With pleasure.” I grinned. “All you have to do is concentrate on the crest; pump all of your mana into it.” As I spoke, I crouched down and placed a hand upon her clawed foot.

“Is that…necessary?” She groaned.

“We must complete the circuit. You’ll understand soon.”

I felt her elongated claws incidentally scratching the nape of my neck, sending little shivers down my spine. It was like dancing with death; one small miscalculation, one tiny movement could spell the end for me before I even had time to realize.

With all my remaining strength, I concentrated on healing Vakara’s perfectly unharmed foot. From my position I couldn’t see the condition of her wounded back; for all I know it had already healed up and this would be my final grift.

After several minutes she barked out of impatience

“Well? Is it working or not?” She demanded answers.

“Do you know how healing magic works?” I spoke slowly, stalling for time.

“Huh?” She growled. “If I find out-“

Before she could finish speaking, she dropped to one knee, supporting her body on my neck, all while I held firm onto her monstrous foot.

“What…is this.” She spoke slowly, with great effort.

“Normally, your body is healing every part of itself at a constant rate; that’s true for mostly every living thing. The basis of healing magic is simply focusing the body’s natural ability to heal onto a single point.”

“What are you—”

“This can heal a lethal wound thousands of times faster but—” I paused, sharpening my eyes and lowering my chin. “Directing all the body’s energy to one area, in a way, completely disregards its natural ability to heal elsewhere.”

“You…Bitch…” She whispered while dropping her head and tumbling over.

She laid on the ground, motionless. Her back facing skyward I could finally see the remnants of Helga’s grievous wound; still large enough to be lethal, thankfully. Even without my intervention, her extraordinary regeneration had completely ceased—she was dead.

“Be it by death or by liberation; it seems I was fated to break my shackles today.” I thought to myself.

With trophy in-hand I started the long journey back to that wretched town. Surely, the head of a Demon Commander was enough to purchase one’s freedom.

angry up vote

Cool.

Heh this is pretty awesome. Can’t wait for part 3!

Good job.

An absolute masterpiece. Thanks for the amazing read!

Galaxt Quest is a good movie

Gotta day, really liked this one! It reminds be of Ouroboros actually.

"And another thing," my boss, Trent, yelled. "If you're late for work one more goddamn time, you're fucking fired! You hear that? Fucking fired!"

"Yes, sir," Trina said as she fought back tears. I just let out a sigh. Fucking asshole. Always flexing on the others that worked here. He learned a long time to leave me the fuck alone, but that didn't stop him from preying on everyone else.

"And another thing, you -" He was interrupted by a loud crash in the storefront. A tremendous roar came from the front, and Trent stiffened.

"Trina, go check that out."

"What, sir? No. I'm only sixteen."

"I didn't ask for your goddamn life story. I said go check that out!"

"Trenton Woods," a deep voice from the front rumbled. "I have come for you. Come out and face me, mortal. I am here to consume every soul in this restaurant, starting with yours."

"I'll fucking take care of it," I say as I roll my sleeves up and walk past Trent.

"Atta boy, Skip. Give 'em hell." I rolled my eyes but continued through the kitchen to the front. As I emerged from the doors, I saw a large red beast with ten horns on his head. He had a long neck, like a dragon, but the body of a bull. His head was that of a human, aside from the horns, and his face was betraying the obvious emotion of pissed off.

"Lloyd," I said. "What are you doing here?"

"Y-your majesty," the creature said before he bowed low. "What are you doing here, sir?"

"I work here; what are you doing here?" I asked again.

"My lord, I was summoned by a girl named Trina Sparks. She made a deal with me to take out Trenton Woods. She gave me ten vials of her blood. Virgin blood, sir. I couldn't say no to such a deal. You know how much I love a good drink." Fucking Trina.

"Trina! Get out here," I bellowed. The girl slowly pushed her head through the door. She was shaking in fear, though I had no clue what she was scared of. She summoned the damn thing.

"Did you summon this?" I asked, pointing at Lloyd.

"Uh. I mean. Yes? Maybe. Am I in trouble?" she squeaked.

"You should be. What would your parents say!? You summoned a being of the underworld to kill your boss. And everyone else in here, might I add. Me included. How would you have felt if Lloyd had killed me? Would you have been fine with that?"

"No. I mean. I didn't tell him to kill everyone. I just wanted Trent gone."

"Lloyd! Are you adding souls to your deals again?"

"My lord." The demon bowed even lower if that were possible. "I'm sorry. I take liberties when the deals are not worded specifically." I walked over and thunked him on the back of the head.

"We don't take extra human souls. They will come to us when it is their time." I walked back to Trina. "And as for you. Don't make deals with demons. You never know what could happen. Take this for instance. He was probably going to kill you, too. Did you have a specific clause about not killing you in the contract?"

"What contract?" she asked meekly.

"What contract!? Lloyd, what the fuck, man? You didn't even have the poor girl sign a contract!?"

"Uh. It was a handshake agreement?"

"You don't have hands! I'm surrounded by idiots." I buried my face in my hands. "Absolute. Fucking. Idiots."

"I'm sorry, my lord. I will take Trenton Woods' soul and be gone."

"Eh, what the hell? I could use the promotion anyways. Trent, get out here!"

I always thought that being called a god was hyperbolic. I was born into the peasantry, one of a dozen brothers expected to either die young or work the fields until I was old enough to be sent to war to die slightly less young. Every year as harvest wound down, a call would be sent out by our lord, calling for healthy men of fighting age to march against our neighbours in the south. This is how it had always been, and this is how I believed it would always be, so long as the Sun encircled our world. One by one, I watched my older brothers leave. When they returned, they might have lost a limb or an eye. And if they hadn't lost anything too valuable, they would go again the following year, and the year after that, and the year after that, until they eventually lost enough to be a liability, or failed to come home at all. Speak of me as the cold-blooded deity of death that so many believe I am, but I have never long mourned any of my brothers. It was just as expected.

The summer before my own enlistment, I turned 17. In the morning, before working the fields, my father took me aside and handed me a crude ring of iron tied to a cord of leather. It was the first and last thing he ever gave any of his sons; a lump of iron shaped on the day we were born, gifted to us when we became eligible to die by another man's hand. He barely said a word before grunting, then reached up to slap the back of my head lightly as he walked towards his work. I placed the cord around my neck, where it has stayed ever since (bar a few nights when I was held captive - I got it back eventually).

I was assigned to the front lines. They took one look at my height and build and decided that I would make an excellent meat shield. I was allocated a sword, a bedroll, and an empty rectangle of floor space. We were to be trained for two weeks before we marched. All around me, the other young men were either anxious and quiet, or very anxious and loud. I had not seen any of my brothers; the veterans were barracked elsewhere. I would never see my older brothers again.

The whispers and the legends have embellished my first battle to be some sort of monumental victory against overwhelming odds. They say I charged alone into the enemy lines and slew a whole platoon of men, breaking their defences so we could wedge ourselves in. But that is hardly the truth. My first war, I survived. That is only impressive if you also knew that more than half my regiment perished. But my squad survived, almost unharmed though we had stood at the centre of the frenzy. I have no doubt that my latent talent for warfare, activated by sheer survival instinct, had protected us. Even so, I merely survived.

But survival was enough for me to be recruited into the standing army. Instead of returning home, I followed along as the lord's corps of soldiers marched to the capital, where I was assigned to a squad meant to serve in vanguards. I had been a shield, now I was to be the sword. I was allocated armour, a rough blanket, and a thin straw mattress. I was eventually sent east, to fight an enemy I hadn't known existed; I had believed my entire life that we only fought our neighbours to the south. Then west. Then north, where we boarded ships to participate in combat. In every battle, I distinguished myself. Though I cannot recall these battles, I know that in battle, I seem to notice every minute detail. I can tell if the man behind me is friend or foe by the sound of their footsteps and their breath, I can see the injuries my enemies are hiding behind armour and clothes by the positioning of their bodies. I rose through the ranks almost as quickly as my legend spread.

Even as I became an officer, a man deemed too important to die, I fought at the front. I had an innate understanding of warfare, but my mind did not function the same behind maps as it did on the battlefield. I had special armour made to distinguish me on the battlefield. It served multiple purposes. Firstly, I would always be visible to my men, so they always had a rallying point. Secondly, it was a distraction, a bright target for the enemy to latch on to; even when you're meant to focus on what's in front of you, shiny objects in your peripheral vision still catch your eye. Thirdly, I wanted them to know. I wanted them to know I was here, and that I was coming for them. A soldier in fear is a smart soldier. A soldier in terror is dead.

The first time I remember being referred to as the god of war, it was said in jest. A colleague of mine, drunk, referred to me as such to the new recruits. And when they saw me in action, they believed in a new deity. To many, it was a nickname for a fearsome warrior. To others, a divine entity that descended upon battlefields to turn the tides of war. To my enemies, a vengeful god of death and destruction. To me, it was a joke that had grown legs and run off before I could rein it in. Slowly, as the years crept on, my divinity only grew in the eyes of the people. They had syncretised my name with a minor god and raised us through the pantheon to sit beside the king of the gods. I could do nothing to stop them. The belief had taken root. Not even my eventual, inescapable meeting with death (and it was inescapable, for I am still mortal) will have any effect. They have formed a canon that ensures that whatever death I experience, it will fit with their prophecies. So be it.

If you happen upon my likeness these days, you will doubtlessly find that I am accompanied by a great direwolf. A beast that we humans both love and fear. I understand why they have represented us in that way, but I must say that they embellish her even more than they do me.

Nearly a decade ago now, I stood in a field of war, the verdant green of the grass painted in chaotic brushstrokes by the slick crimson of human blood. The human bodies that had crowded around me an hour ago now only crowded the floor. I stood with the fraction of my men that was left. Our enemy had lost a much greater fraction of their men, but their massive numbers still dwarfed us. We were between waves of enemies now, and the rhythm of war had slowed. I knew this moment well. Their commanders were anxious despite their numbers. The soldiers were hesitant to charge. They had all seen what we had done to their comrades. At these moments, I have repeatedly employed a simple tactic to break the enemy's morale further. When you see a small force of killers so skilled at what they do, it is human nature to be afraid of them for what they can do to you. But if you see them triumphant in their killing, boastful and eager to face more, their association with "human" slips.

I suppose I am somewhat to blame for my reputation.

I glanced at my men, who seemed to pick up on the cue almost as though drilled, though we have never planned for this outside the field of battle. I drew in a large breath, ready to bellow a challenge, to invoke my divine reputation to turn these walking men into dead men walking, to fortify my troops' confidence that I was ready to die alongside them, to terrify their commanders into abandonin-

"YIP!"

The planned battlecry came out as a choked question.

"YIP!" came the noise again.

I looked down to see a little brown ball of fur, barreling across the plain towards me, never slowing.

"YIP!"

It jumped at me and I caught it in my hand.

"YIP! YIP!" she barked.

I laughed. A genuine, bellowing laugh. I do not believe I have ever laughed as hard or as genuinely as I did that day. The little dog, with her beady eyes and massive ears and bared teeth, was growling and snapping her jaws, trying to get at me. I laughed again.

"YIP!"

"Yes, yes," I said. I looked back at my squad. Good soldiers who had been with me for years, with fresh faces repopulating the squad periodically. I scanned the faces and found a suitable candidate.

"You," I said.

"Yes, sir!" he replied immediately. He was one of the fresher recruits. Not even a year since induction. I tossed the chihuahua at him. He caught her lightly against his chest, though she immediately started snapping at his face. He held her at arm's length.

"Keep her safe. Stay towards the rear," I instructed, using my most commanding tone of voice.

"Yes, sir!" he answered. There were no joke orders in my squad. They trusted my commands with their lives.

"Now let's finish this," I said, turning back towards our enemies, who seemed oddly more terrified than they had before. We did not lose that battle.

I took care of the dog after that battle. She had likely been one of the many pets that had been brought onto the battlefield by sightseeing nobles, who thought of war as something to spectate with as many luxuries as possible. This little one had run off, and I doubt they noticed. She was fierce and fearless, and once she settled, ceaselessly loyal. I came to find more joy in her companionship than I have found anywhere else in my life. Still, for all her qualities, I struggle to understand how she had become a massive direwolf in the consciousness of the people.

I thought of our first meeting now, nearly a decade later, at our final goodbye. On my estate, under a great oak, I put her to rest in a hole I had dug myself. I said a quiet prayer, then scooped a handful of dirt into the hole, over my companion. I stopped before my second handful. I reached towards my neck and pulled off my iron ring. I held it in my hand for a long, silent moment, then dropped it in to rest with her.

My first and last gift to you, I thought to myself as I filled the grave.

Faith in the heart

This is too sweet I love it!

“They couldn’t have picked another day…” The soft spoken dishwasher spoke to herself as if it was just another unruly customer, yet it was much more than that.

The scene unfolded before the dishwasher, as she peered over the counter after she heard the chanting. She saw a large demon come out of the portal one of her coworkers had made on a table. It, the demon, had large fangs dripping with what could only be described as lava. The lava spit was catching things on fire, and that had made the sprinklers go off.

Once the sprinklers were set off the boss came out of his office in the back.

“Who the fuck is burning shit now? Lulu did you leave one of the dish rags near the fire again?” He screamed as he walked out into the kitchen. When he saw LuLu watching the front of the store with her other coworkers it looked like smoke would come out of him. “WHAT ARE YOU LOLLYGAGGERS DOING? GET BACK TO WORK.”

“But… Sir there’s… a demon…” One of LuLu’s coworkers, Timmy, pointed out.

LuLu just shook her head at Timmy to shut up.

“What kind of idiot do you think I am?” He growled before looking towards what Timmy was pointing to. When he saw the demon. He laughed. “Is this some sort of Halloween prank? Nice special effects makeup.”

“Sir, it’s February…” Timmy muttered.

“Fine, I’ll go deal with this. JUST GET BACK TO WORK.” The boss rolled his eyes. As he walked out of the kitchen area to the dining area. He stood in front of the demon. His arms crossed.

The demon roared loudly at him. The sprinklers seemed to have snuffed most of the hell fire out.

“Look, I don’t know who sent you, but you’re going have to pay for this. The fire, everything. So cough it up!”

The demon did in fact cough something up. A human skull. After it flew out of his mouth it bounced on the floor due to the lavay slime spit it was covered in.

The boss didn’t even flinch. “You know that is not what I meant. Nice magic trick though. Where did you get a fake skull?” The boss stepped on the skull, expecting to crush it with his foot, when he didn’t he froze for a moment, before screaming and trying to run.

It was too late the demon had grabbed him. Holding him up by the back of his shirt. The demon’s long tongue licked his face, cause the boss to scream even more before the demon started to lower him into his mouth.

“Should we do anything?” Timmy whispered to Tripp another coworker.

“What do you want us to do against a demon?” They practically yelled back, smacking Timmy with a cleaning rag.

“What do you think LuLu?” Timmy hesitantly asked.

“It is our boss… but maybe we should see how it plays out..?”

“Oh that’s crazy. We need to get out of here.” Tripp stood up, deciding to make a run for it.

LuLu stood up as well. Deciding to walk back to her locker. She unlocked her locker, rather quickly. Once it was opened she pulled out her backpack, throwing it on. As she did she heard another scream from her boss. This time she couldn’t just ignore it. She had to do something. So she ran into the dining room standing in front of the demon.

The demon was now holding Tripp up in the air, while it munched on what LuLu could only assume was her old boss.

“Unhand them!” LuLu yelled. “And let everyone in this establishment go. NOW”

The demon simply tilted it’s head at LuLu.

“You’re really going to make me do this…” LuLu took a deep breath. “Okay, fine.”

LuLu threw her backpack off, and quickly pulled out what a normal person would assume was a folding cane. With the flick of her wrist the cane became a staff. Raising the staff above her head she began to chant.

Once the demon heard the language she was chanting in, it let go of Tripp. It’s attention was focused on her. Moving towards her with caution.

Unsurprisingly as LuLu was chanting, everyone in the building evacuated, well almost everyone. LuLu opened one eye, noticing Timmy had grabbed a bag of salt, making a circle around both LuLu and the demon. She continued chanting, not wanting to lose the demon's attention. Once her chant was completed, she had 5 seconds to yell.

“TIMMY LEAVE.” LuLu spat out.

Once the 5 seconds were up, there was a large puff of smoke. Where LuLu was once standing there was an Eldritch adjacent monster girl that was growing in size. She looked vaguely human but with two red devilish eyes and six tentacles attached to the sides of her head, with two more sprouting from her forehead almost like horns. The rest of her body from the neck down was covered by a magical girl outfit, even as she grew the outfit grew with her.

When she had stopped growing she had to crouch to be inside of the building. The two tentacles from her forehead wrapped around the demon's throat, as tight as they could. The rest of her tentacles began to try to shove the demon back into the portal from where it came. The demon was scratching and clawing at the tentacles that were holding onto it. This caused LuLu to scream and hiss in pain, before yelling at the demon in its native tongue. Eventually the demon was shoved back into the portal.

Causing LuLu to sigh in relief. She wiped her brow with one of the tentacles from her forehead. It took a moment before the monster began to shrink back down to human size. The monster began to mumble once it got its tentacles on the staff. Once the chanting was done, another puff of smoke happened. LuLu stood there, bruised and bloody. She looked around as she leaned on one of the tables, to see Timmy staring at her with wide eyes.

“What Kid, you haven’t seen a magical girl before?” LuLu laughed, trying to find the humor in it all.

“Not… one like… you looked like you could be related to a squid…” Timmy stammered.

“Well you’re close. Cthulhu is my father.. Well, by human standards.”

(Never in my life did I think I would be writing a cthulhu adjacent magical girl story but here I am...)

{Conciousness log dump from Wargod 334}

I heard it before I saw it. A thin, pitiful howl rent the air, interspersed with snarling. “They had uncaged some beast against me,” I thought. It took the scouter eyepiece a while to even find the new threat. A tiny war dog, smaller than a rabbit, was darting towards me on tiny legs. “Dog”, of course, was being generous - the little bug eyed freak looked like a mutant rat had been shaved.

The scouter eyepiece beeped, displaying the puny thing’s vital stats and breakdown and threat level. Some dogs were “herding class”, others “guardian class” or “battle class”. I had seen one rich noblewoman’s dog be titled “useless class”. This one gave me pause. The screen listed it as “Chihuahua: Demon Class”. The emotional readout oscillated between “fear and tremble” to “seething burning white hot rage”. The AI presented a threat level of “extreme”. Surely it had to be an error. Demon class? The scouter was useless!

The beast left a trail of urine as it darted under my foot nipping at my ankles. It’s tiny furious attacks did no damage. I brought my war boot down to punt the yipping fiend back to its maker, slipped in its pee, and as I fell to the ground accidentally launched the tactical Mark XXI nuke missile into the air as I fell.

My face! The biting demon was now in my face - a whirling ball of madness as it went for my eyes. How could so much sheer hatred be contained in such a tiny body? I knocked it loose and stood up, blood pouring from my lip. I really should have sprung for the full helmet, but as a god of war I have laid waste to whole empires - planets have fallen to me - and nothing has managed to hit my face like this. Live and learn, I guess. The demon dog hung suspended in midair from my gauntleted hand, furiously growling painful death threats as it tried to sever my fingers, it’s body shaking as if possessed as it angrily worked on my hand.

A soft beep from the scouter. An incoming missile was approaching my position. In growing horror, I realized that the missile had fired while locked on the scouter’s target. The target that was still firmly attached to my hand. The missile was homing in on that blasted dog and the dog was attached to me. I was about to die by my own weapon zeroed in on my current position. I could see the point of light of the incoming missile- why is the shield not up? I might survive if I can get the shield up in time…. And then I remember - the shield generator controls are on my hand. Of course the little bug-eyed freak has been chewing through the controls while it was suspended in midair. Of course the controls are ruined. Sigh.

Demon class, indeed.

{Log termination}

He's already min-maxed the economy, using an exploit to sell tulips at insane prices