The smell of spilled whiskey was the first and only thing to greet me as I pulled open the door to the Alibi. A textbook dive, the splintered tables of the bar were full, but nobody looked toward me as I tapped the bottom of my boots in the entryway.

The lack of turned heads was a point of pride in the Alibi. It felt private no matter how busy it was. When you were inside the Alibi, your business was your business, and if someone overheard your conversation, no they didn't.

The barkeep, a hammerhead of a woman named Sasha, clocked me in the doorway but didn't offer a nod. In fact, she didn't offer me anything; instead, Sasha stared at me with careful disinterest for a moment before returning to the drink she was pouring.

Maybe it was better that people were ignoring me here. I doubted I would have been good attention.

The bar top of the Alibi was scratched from a million slid glasses and a thousand knives. Years ago, they attempted to re-lacquer the thing, but the regulars said it'd killed the charm. Within a week, it was back to a scratched wooden mess threatening to stab any hand that rested on it.

I sat down at the bar, pulling out one of the few unused stools. As I sat down a behemoth of a man to my right pulled his chair away from me, and closer to the ear of the people he was whispering to.

Sasha ignored me for a moment, but then I held up two fingers to order a drink and made it clear that I was looking for her. I watched her sigh and turn her attention to another customer.

My phone buzzed in my pocket again. It had been ringing off the hook all evening, not that it had a hook; it was a cell phone.

I would answer it eventually.

Sasha finished pouring the neat whiskey for the woman to my right and finally, out of plausible deniability, turned to me. "Detective," she opened, somehow making the title sound like a curse.

"Evening Sasha," I said with a nod, ignoring the tone she'd used, "how's Rod?"

"S'fine," she answered, "what are you drinking?"

I considered it for a moment, "A Mojito." The second I said it Sasha glared at me. Asking her to mash mint was my way of keeping her around. That and a mojito completely clashed with the atmosphere.

Then again, so did I.

"Coming right up," Sasha hissed before grabbing a glass from the bottom of the bar. She knew how it worked; she would start working on the drink, and then when she was trapped in front of me-

"Sasha, a question."

She grunted, which roughly translated to 'there it is.'

"Okay," I cut off our usual song and dance, "a favour then."

That got her to slow down the process of fake cleaning the glass.

"I need you to tell me the truth. Just this once."

Sasha snorted at that and then chuckled to herself. Once she'd finished,she looked up at me, waiting for a smile or anything to show that I was joking.

The core rule of the Alibi and the nexus of its success was that they would always offer an Alibi for you, no matter how many people came knocking on your door. As a detective I was the exact opposite of what Sasha wanted in here. She wanted people to feel safe when they were turning over a new leaf.

It was rough to admit, but these Ex-cons needed a haven away from officers with an axe to grind.

"Look, I'm not here on force business today," I explained. She didn't flinch, "I have two questions about a girl, and then I'll shut up and drink.

Sasha grabbed the white rum from the wall behind the bar but didn't comment.

"Hell, I'll leave a big tip too," I leaned it, "it's just two questions."

Sasha paused, then poured rum into the measuring cup. "You're desperate," she mused after a moment.

I didn't say anything. I just nodded.

Sasha stopped what she was doing and put the half-finished drink down in front of me. There were still several steps between me and mojito. "What'd you get yourself into?" she asked.

"Not me," I corrected; that finally got Sasha to raise her eyebrows and look at me with anything but disdain. "I'm looking for a girl."

"Oh yeah, saw her last week," Sasha answered before I'd explained any part of the question. She went to grab the half-finished drink, and I got my hand in the way.

"Sasha. She's going to get herself hurt."

"Well, it ain't gonna be here so-"

"I know she was here. I just need to know where she was going, Sasha," I explained, "just this-" I stopped, "I'll stop coming here. You'll never get another call from me about a case."

Sasha cocked her head slightly, and her tight bun flopped a moment later.

"Sasha. Please."

Sasha put her hands on her hips and then turned to the back of the bar to find the beer she'd been likely nursing for the better part of the last two hours. Once she'd taken a proper gulp of it, she crouched in front of me. She'd scanned my face enough times that I was sure she wouldn't find anything new.

"Just one question," I negotiated.

Sasha took a deep breath. "Fine. Shoot."

"You saw an Asian girl here. Her name was Carly, would have been with two other girls, all three with black hair."

"Yeah. There's your question."

"That was a statement," I corrected, trying to keep the current dynamic instead of slipping into the old one. "The question is, did they say where they were going?"

Sasha took another sip of her drink. "You said this ain't for work?"

I nodded.

"Why'd'ya care so much."

It was my turn to sigh. I reached and grabbed the half-finished drink, taking a sip of the odd mix of white rum and soda water. "She's my sister."

Sasha frowned.

"And she's in bad, and I don't know how to help her so-" I laid my land on the counter. "Came to someone I could trust."

Sasha stood up, looked both ways and then took a deep breath, "You're killing me, detective."

"I know."

"They were talking about Wharburtons," she answered as she leaned in to ensure that nobody heard her breaking the one rule of Alibi. "Don't know what about, but they're bad news."

I tossed a twenty on the table and stood up. A breath later, I tossed a second one on top of it. There was silence for a moment between us, and it felt like the bar had quieted down too.

"Fuck you and your stupid rules," I hissed overly loud, ensuring that the surrounding patrons heard me.

"Get fucked, Detective," she shouted back. She pointed to the door, but I was leaving anyway.

I couldn't risk turning around to say it, but I hoped she understood that I mouthed 'thank you' as I left.

/r/Jacksonwrites all that jazz

It's a cruel thing to be shoved into a screeching child's nursery after years of solitude. At this point, I prefer the squirrels that nestled in my branches and crawled endlessly over me. If only I wasn't bound to this wood, I'd silence that child immediately! Those villagers did not realize the brutality of their punishment. All of this, just for frightening some nosey teenagers? The punishment does not fit the crime if you ask me. Of course, no one is asking me. The worst reality of it all is I'm now a child's rocking horse. I was a tall, gangly tree with sprawling, twisting branches. Quite intimidating, so surely no one would try and cut me down. That is until one day a carpenter was walking through my forest. I assume he enjoys a challenge, because my transformation into this ridiculous thing was tedious. Cutting, sawing, sanding, painting, after all of the agony I suffered this is the thanks I get?

I've grown used to the infants cries over the last several months. I stand motionless in the corner, the child's parents have no idea a demon is in their home! The infant is mobile now, she crawls over to me and uses her tiny hands to pull herself into a stand. I hope she gets a splinter in that soft skin! Maybe it would be enough for her to leave me be.

As time creeps by, I have to admit I am beginning to look forward to the little toothless goblin's interactions. I even tolerate the never ending slobbering. It does feel good to have a purpose other than being a home for squirrels. She is always excited to see me. It is a foreign feeling to be wanted after centuries without so much as a passing glance. Of course, in my past life I would send the humans running, eyes wide with terror with just one look!

The months turn into years, faster now because the only time in my day that matters is when she plays with me. We've had grand adventures. I was a noble steed to a knight, a weather worn mate to a cowgirl, I've been a guest at tea parties, and an audience for talent shows. As she grows older, I am nothing more than a decoration. My only hope is that one day, she passes me on to her descendants so they can have a demon, who is now a guardian angel.

that got dark quick, like the spin though

“Hi Sharona. Are you planning on buying something or are you just here to torture me some more?”

The tall pale woman in a red dress looks back at me, her eyes pleading. “Please come back Griselda. I miss our battles.”

I roll my eyes. Back on our home planet, I was a scrawny girl who got picked on by the popular kids. When I finally succeeded in making a name for myself as a scientist who could stop the impending doom, naive, money-grabbing adults like Sharona convinced themselves that I was leading them astray.

After Sharona rejected the medicine that would keep them from the effects of the tremendous doom that awaited anyone who hadn’t gotten their medicine, she started to go insane. She and her little cultists convinced themselves that I was evil, and plotting to take over the world.

I, for one, was appalled. I had just saved the world, and the thanks I got was the image of a villainous witch. I was done. I figured there would be some other place where I could go and try to help people.

Fortunately, the world where I ended up had no impending doom. Nature thrived, science was at its peak, and medicine allowed people to live off of clean energy for a long time. I finally got to pursue what I really loved — caring for wounded animals.

Today, of all days, one of the cashiers had called to tell us she was taking one of her mental health days. I usually worked in the animal clinic itself, but I agreed to take over the small business shop that offered remedies and small trinkets for pet owners.

I look back at Sharona. “I like it here. I’m happy here. And best of all, people respect me here. I hope that you figure out your issues, Sharona. But I tried to help, and you rejected me. So no more battles. Either buy something, or go away.”

Sharona’s eyes burn fiery red. “Fine. Be like that.” Turning sharply on her five inch heels, she struts away.

I roll my eyes again. Some people have no idea what the damage of their privilege can do. I hope her world can survive her ignorance.

[deleted]

[removed]

Ngl I would read the hell out of a book like this. I am genuinely in love with the chemistry you've created in such a short time.

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A thousand years I was bound to the tree. Due to my demonic nature the tree had a black bark that seemed to devour the sun when cast in its warm light. After a certain age; time flows differently. The weather and seasons blur together. I often wondered why after all this time they chose not to cut me down. Tree after tree fell while I stood. I watched as kingdoms rose and fell around me. What was once a vast ancient forest turned into land for farming. Walls were built around me. I watched cities built from scratch and destroyed only for another to rise again.

Eventually I was just an odd black tree with red leaves behind a glorious mansion. Oh how I wished for something interesting to happen. The only entertainment was the owner who would occasionally walk by. Curious fellow he was. He would look at the huge black tree in contemplation sometimes...almost as if he was looking at me. Very odd indeed. His nice mustache and the fact that he was built like a fox didn't seem to help any either in making me raise a hypothetical brow. Sometimes he would sit under the red leaves at sunset and mumble about his daily life.

Oh how I wished to be cut down. Time gets monotonous and living gets boring after awhile. Atlas, one day my wish came true. Although, it was definitely not what I expected. Cutting me down took the effort of 20 men and a few days. Its only natural as the bark has gathered and consumed my power for centuries. Its obvious that the wood and bark would be tough as nails. Prevailed they did with sweat and grit.

When the tree finally tipped I even felt a sudden sensation of falling. What I didn't expect was what they made me into. They took the core of the wood which is essentially me and had a master carver go to work. Guess who the master carver was? If you guess the mustache man, you would be correct. I learned later that his name was Sal. Sal spent months carving me. The end result? A rocking horse. A rocking horse for his kid Sam's 5th birthday. The artistry that went into the details that made me looked almost like the miniature version of the real thing was nothing to scoff at. From the mane to the tail. Everything was the work of perfection. I haven't seen a finer work even in my ancient age.

I remember when Sal showed me to his kid Sam for the first time. Sam practicality had stars in his eyes as he looked at me. The first thing he did was jump on my back and rock back and forth like his life depended on it. Meanwhile I didn't know what to think. Should I be humiliated or apathetic to my plight? I decided not to think too hard about it. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into years. I got to know Sam and Sal pretty well doing this time. I even learned that I could rock by myself with effort much to my pleasant suprise. I felt kind of like a haunted toy in a way. I had fun with this new freedom of movement. To be able to affect the world around me again...the feeling cant be described. Sometimes sam would just stare into my marble black eyes. Who knows what goes on in humans kids brain? I would like to know sometimes.

Now as a demon of the highest order, I have learned to cut my heart from everything, but this kid was different. Some how he warmed his to my heart. The way he looked at me as if I was a real and spent his time with me as if I was alive. I could tell he loved me dearly. It was a weird feeling being loved. I have never been loved. Demons arent meant to experience such emotions. My heart iced so long ago that I wouldn't be able to tell you when I actually had one. But slowly I grew fond of the child. I even had reminiscent memories of when I was a demon child. Memories I thought I lost forever. Memories of my demon parents. I thought they never cared about me but perhaps they did in their own way?

I slowly rocked back and forth in the living room by the warm glow of the fireplace as I watched the kid sleeping on the couch peacefully with a soft smile on his face. The fire giving my a glossy blackish red texture. Who will this child grow up to be I wonder? Thoughts of the future the only thing on my mind as the moon slowly passed by in the night sky.

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>* 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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It's not me daring it, it's those gosh dang kids climbing all over my property

Self harm medical horror

Wtf dude I need more

Only thousands? You must be the healthiest man alive!

lmao i am so sorry, lil bit tipsy myself and something in my brain just needed out :D tomorrow morning my writing will be back to normal

When he opened his eyes with a gasp for air, white light blinded him. Strange noises were to be heard, not unlike the singing of birds, but nothing a bird could ever voice. They were almost hurtful to the ear.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the light. Someone was leaning above him. Fear cursed through him, but it was not the king.

The person covered up the lower half of their face with a peculiar, light green cloth. Their hair was held back by another cloth, not unlike in colour and texture. They began to speak in a wierd language, but to his surprise he could understand it.

"Hello? Hello, are you awake? Can you hear me? Alan, do you understand me?"

He nodded. Alan. How strange. Was that his name here? And were was he? What had happened?

Soon after he found out. He was in hospital. He had been in a coma for years, alive but unresponsive. The doctors said it was a miracle that he survived.

It would be a long way back into his old life. A life that he could barely even remember.

On his third day in the hospital - he was still confused by everything around him - his family came to visit. He had a brother and a wife. Both of them were glad he was awake. It had been a hard time for them.

"Alan, I can't wait for you to get home again. There's so much I want to show you! Do you remember the old apple tree in the garden? It's still there! The birds are using it as a nesting place now."

Alan could remember an apple tree. A gnawed old thing, that stood before his home in the city of kings.

"Susan is right, the tree is more beautiful than ever before. It is blooming now, the whole tree is full of white flowers and if you walk underneath them, you can hear the humming of the bees."

These things and others they told him. Many seemed familiar, most were unknown to him. Some seemed like he should remember, but he didn't. And still they went on with their explanations, stories, hopes and dreams. It was too much. How could one head keep all of it?

No, he thought, stop. Go back.

"Alan, I can't wait for you to get home again. There's so much I want to show you! Do you remember the old apple tree in the garden?"

Wait. No. This wasn't right. Hadn't Susan told him that before?

"It's still there! The birds are using it as a nesting place now."

"Susan is right", his brother added. "The tree is more beautiful than ever before. It is blooming now, the whole tree is full of white flowers and if you walk underneath them, you can hear the humming of the bees."

What? It couldn't be. No. No! Stop. Go back! Back to normal

Susan bubbled on, as if nothing had happened.

"Alan, I can't wait for you to get home again. There's so much I-"

Stop

And the world stopped. Susan and his brother stood there like frozen. Alan - or was it Aleanor - stared for a second. Noone said a word. Even the machines were silent now. He looked at the clock on the wall - it didn't move.

He waited a moment - Nothing. Susan was still standing there, frozen in time. He could see every detail in her face. The eyes, the lips, the teeth, small green numbers on the side of her nose.

Wait. Numbers? He looked, but they were still there. And they were not alone. Everywhere he looked, ones and zeros. The room was slowly dissolving into numbers.

A simulation. He was in a simulation. And everything was dissolving.

The walls were eaten by the green numbers. The clock, the machines. The two people before him. His feet. His legs. Soon his hands, arms and body were gone.

Panic filled him. He didn't want to die! But the numbers crawled higher, reaching his face. Mouth. Nose. Eyes.

With a gasp for air he awakened. He was laying in his bed. The sky outside was dark. With shaking hands he turned on the lights. No numbers. He turned his hands around. Still, no numbers.

It was a dream. It was all a dream.

He sighed. In a few hours he had to go to work. Monday's at the office were definitely not his favorite days. And he couldn't go back to sleep now.

Slowly he got up and began with his morning routine. Shower, change, make breakfast. In his cupboard he found the cereal next to the hidden camera and the bowls. The spoons were in the kitchen drawer. He only stopped when he had already grabbed a spoon.

I don't have a hidden camera in my cupboard

But there it was. Between the bowls and the cereal. Looking at him. Watching him.

In the next half hour he found several cameras in different parts of his house. Two in the kitchen, four in the living room, some more in the other rooms.

He cursed, took his laptop and started to search. When he found what he was looking for, he cursed some more.

He was on a reality TV-show.

[ERROR: Content Error]

Work was slow. Every few moments he turned to look for more hidden cameras. Was he watched? Even here?

[ERROR: Timeline Error]

He took the bus to work. What should he do? Was he followed? Could he call the police? Who was he?

[ERROR: Error number: 283.N.93p4]

》System anomaly detected. Running scan

》Scan running

》Scan running

》Scan finished

ERRORS found: 48

》Trying for ERROR repair

》running

》running

》running

》running

》timeout. ERRORS fixed: 6 ERRORS left: 57

》Calling engineer

》Engineer called

》shutting down

》saving progress

》cancelling processes

》shutting down

》Good night

/////

God, damnit. Author here, the plot-twist software has malfunctioned. I'm sorry, I'm afraid this story won't finish. First I have to repair this thing, get rid of the errors, start the backup... You know - the whole deal.

...

You know what? I'll grab a coffee, while I'm at it. Maybe it helps. You never know.

...

Aaaaah, yes. Much better. Well, I'm afraid the story ends here. Farewell, reader. I hope you had fun.

...

...

No, seriously. It's over. There's nothing left to say.

...

What do you want? Should I tell you what's happening outside my window? Is it that what you want?

...

Ok, so there's the old apple tree. To the left of it I can see the neighbors house. There's not much happening over there. The sky is blue, the grass is green....

Uhmmmm. What is that?

Is that a - meteorite? A fucking big meteorite?!?

Is that thing heading towards me? WHAT THE HELL??! WHAT THE --

Aleanor gripped his sword tighter. This was it. The endgame. The last fight against the all-powerful evil that had befallen this land.

The fate of the world now laid in his hands.

If he should fail, all hope for his country would be gone. The people ensalved. The king beheaded. He himself would face a horrible end if he were to survive the fight defeated.

He would have to make it. All depended on it.

With a deep breath he stood and passed the gate. Above him the ceiling of the great, white hall of rose to the sky. Pillars of marble and gold stretched like the stems of mighty trees and an eerie silence filled the air.

At the end of the hall stood the throne of the dark lord. Black ebony with streaks of silver and gold. Sparkling in a beam of light from a painted window far above. And there, on the throne, sat he himself. The dark lord.

Veiled in a cloak of white that flowed around his shoulders, silver armor shining in the sun. A great sword rested on his knees.

When he stepped closer, the king begun to speak:

"Aleanor. So you have come. Do you not know what fate you will bring over the world? Do you not understand the graveness of your deed?"

"I have come, lord, to banish the evil that befell these lands and to bring back the light to the world. No more shall the people suffer under your rule!"

"Suffer?" The dark lord scoffed, " My people do not suffer. They thrive under my rule! There are no more beggars on my streets. There are no more hunger, no more wars, no more unfair death in my lands. They have elected me king. They chose me to do good - And I have!

Who has brought the famine into my lands, if not your armies? Who has brought death and destruction to my flourishing cities, if not yourself?

Look at your kingdom and ask yourself: What misery is there, that couldn't have been ended by peace. What unfairness is there, that couldn't have been brought to an end by a fair ruler? What war lingers there, that hasn't been started by your king?

How much good has he ever done? How many people has he helped? I have not wished for this war and am grieved by the death it has caused. And I would not wish to fight you, if you hadn't come here yourself."

"Liar", Aleanor hissed. But it was true. He had seen the lands of this king and they had been fairer than his own. Happier. Richer.

Maybe he was the bad guy after all.

"You see it now, don't you. He has used you, my son. Manipulated you, like he has everyone else. Believe me, when I say he is the true dark lord."

The king smiled, but it was a smile without joy. "Lay down your sword, kid. Too much blood has been spilled already."

Slowly - gravely the king stretched out his hand to welcome the other. Aleanor stepped forward, tears in his eyes.

"But what about..." he hesitated. "What about the villages you have plundered? The cities that have burned before your army? The people who have died from your sword? The men you have tortured? What about them?"

The king slowly shook his head. "There are no wars without bloodshed. Where an army lies, villages will burn. That is the rule of war, my son."

Aleanor stepped back, drawing his sword.

"Then I won't bow to you! My kingdom might not be the bright land I always dreamed of - but yours aren't, either. There is no such thing as good and bad in this world. I realize that now. But it is still better to fight and die for the country I know, than to live as a traitor to my people. Draw your sword, king! Let's end this war."

The king rose to his feet, anger in his voice: "You fool! I have offered you peace, but you have chosen death. So be it! Die"

Swords clashed. Eyes filled with fury met each other in fight. The king was strong, but so was his enemy. Aleanor fought valiantly, but in the end he succumbed. A mighty blow flung him to the ground. The air was pressed out of his lungs and - for a moment - he didn't hear nor feel anything.

Jesus Christ, I was not expecting that. Kudos for pulling all of that from the prompt.

Keeping parts of our lives secret was kind of a normal thing , that’s what my parents always taught me. Mainly because we have powers and it makes us a target and those around us. But the thing I could never understand was that my parents never had some alter ego , and they seemed to be two of the most powerful people I ever knew , I once was my dad stop a literal earthquake while my mom stopped a volcano once , but they always manage to avoid getting noticed or recognized.

One thing I’ve begun to notice though is my dad looks eerily similar to a villain from some old photos and videos , not much survived the ages but he looks just so… similar… and my mom … she looks like the hero who always took him down… but I mean my dad is awesome , he never does anything even remotely bad and everyone says he has a heart of gold…

I decided to actually do some digging into this…. The similarities were uncanny and when I asked them they seemed shaken by it but quickly denied it , they forget I have powers too so even if they tried to hide it I could feel and see something was up…. Did they know them? Was it their siblings?? I had to know…

I tried to find as many older pictures of my parents I could , I remembered all those stupid cheesy “ well I met her back in college” but the story change slightly sometimes, I found proof to back from an old family video , my mom was talking to a friend in the back , I focused my hearing on it , Matridel college when they studied chemistry…. Hmm I remembered just last week my dad last week saying it was Hallimond university for physics and computers…. And she never corrected him on it… then I remembered something… my dad had a birth mark on his back, pretty noticeable too if he didn’t have a shirt on

So I scrounged up every photo of that villain I could , the suit they wore covered them up pretty well but there was a bit of photos and a few videos where they were scrapped up and the outfits were torn…

Then I found one , half of his outfit was torn and there it was… the same birthmark… it wasn’t a sibling…. It was him! And that must mean my mom was really…. But every record says they are dead… yet my parents must be them….

With my new evidence in hand I’m going to confront them tomorrow…

Wat the actual wat

“Every second I’m wasting away in here, I could be out there doing something productive.” She waved both hands dismissively. “Like saving humanity from extinction. You know, important things?”

“Mm.” I tapped the butt of the pen to my lips and adjusted my posture. The office-chair squeaked, eliciting a wince from Annie. Seated in a slouch on the chestnut armchair, between swinging her gaze from the door to the window and back to me, Annie’s dark eyes glittered with unwavering conviction. All the tests from the past two days were inconsistent from what the nurses and Dr. Panut reported.

I grumbled wistfully to myself. Even if she did claim to be from the future, as long as she wasn’t an imminent threat to herself or others, what harm could releasing her potentially inflict? Although a self-proclaimed “time traveler”, Annie had passed all cognitive tests with ease. She’d gotten the date, president of the US, and location correct. She had a high IQ. The worrying aspect was the absence of any reliable identification and the bizarre style of bodysuit she was found wearing collapsed outside the YMCA.

Apart from her sharp interior, Annie’s body screamed anxiousness, from the incessant jackhammering of one leg, to the painful plucking of hairs, and raw, bloody lips.

If only she could open up to me, perceive me as an aid instead of a threat barring her way.

“Tell me something unbelievable to prove you’re from the future.”

Her expression turned sour. “Betty White doesn’t make it to a hundred.”

“No!” I slammed the pen against the desk, lips peeled back for an anguished growl. “So help me God, if you are lying, I will keep you here longer.” I stabbed my index finger toward her. “Don’t you dare jinx Betty White.”

The world is a stormgate, constantly holding back a torrent of water that beats upon it. And though it is worn to near ruin, the gate does not falter, does not concede to the water. It only stands. Of course the powerful waves that this stone gate holds back are far more impressive than it. But still it will never lose.

I am the sea, and my prison, the stormgate. No matter how hard I've pushed in these five centuries the great tree in which I am bound to has hardly budged. I am but a prisoner to its mechanisms. I must feel as men cut through my limbs yet do not free me. As children climb yet I may not speak my words to them.

Though at that point I admit that I was hesitant I even had words left to say.

I was reduced to a forgotten thing. Lifeless and abandoned, a thing that could rot so easily. So fragile, so, weak. The clergymen who placed me here are long dead by now, yet still I could hear their laughter at their victory over me.

Yet there is a branch of hope. Recently my stormgate has changed, an opening appeared when I have been chosen by a savior. Young she is, but certain in her decision. She took one look at me and understood my greatness, despite my ruin. All it took was a point of her tiny finger to capture my freedom.

"Why yes Abigail, it seems this one would make for an excellent rocking horse" Her father replied in childlike talk to his daughter. What she actually meant by her pointing he did not know.

He approached and sized me up and down, and that was all. By the next week I was something new. Not a tree but a new shape born of the old, a horse it seemed, a poor excuse for the real things. Even poorer than the original, humongous creatures that wandered the hellish plains.

She was overjoyed to see my new form. I was simply happy to no longer be a tree. But something more, I was happy to be known, almost seen.

When I mumbled she listened. When I ached she halted her play. And when I grew attached she already was. For the first time in five-hundred years somebody remembered that I existed and loved me for just that. Nothing more, nothing less.

And though the stormgate still existed, still held back my true form just underneath, I understood that now, my wait would not be so bad anymore.

It took me a couple of days and copious amounts of alcohol, but eventually I learnt to ignore them and their pestering requests and go about my day relatively undisturbed. I hadn't noticed this before, but if you or any of your friends are recovering alcoholics, you probably know that a slight stupor doesn't inhibit the boring routine of a desk job too much. I was actually doing quite alright.

Until there came a voice I couldn't ignore.

Whatcha reading there, big guy?

She was a standard nerve cell, calling from behind my oesophagus. At first I thought she was just trying to stand out to get my attention, but none of her neighbours had any complaints to make.

I know you're holding a novel. But God is a cruel one, he didn't connect me to the eyes. Won't you please just translate?

I got back to my Highsmith mystery and tried to shut her out. Conversations were a strict taboo. The two skin cells I'd tried to talk to, right at the beginning, hadn't stopped pestering me until I finally scraped them off.

Jesus, big guy, you think I can't feel your rising heart rate? Just gimme a little slice of those high-octane chases. You have no idea how boring the life of a nerve cell can be. I'm just a simple girl, with a simple love for mysteries.

"How do you even know about mystery novels and high-octane chases?", I uttered before I could stop myself. "You're a goddamn cell."

A good journalist never reveals her sources.

Well, now that the silence was broken, I might as well continue. At least she had a sense of humour.

She was alright, actually. I read to her a bunch over the next couple of days. Had a few vacation days left over, sometimes you just need a comfortable night in with your nerve cell. She guessed the ending of the second Ripley novel before I did. Smart little thing.

Anyway, we hit it off. Only issue is she's stuck there, right behind my oesophagus. Makes conversations difficult, and she's uncomfortable if I swallow or breathe too quickly. So tonight, she asked me to free her.

You see, if she could just be out here, in the real world, we could be friends in real life. Maybe more. And she's waiting for me, waiting to end her suffering. Together, we could be free.

It was easy, really, just the way she'd described. The knife glid through my skin like butter. And with her help, navigating my throat was a breeze, I'd circumvented my airway and localised the oesophagus in no time. I could feel her, sitting there, shaking in anticipation. Don't worry, honey, I'm almost there. Just need to ignore the vertigo for a little bit, maybe I should've drunk more water. And is that saliva or blood, or spinal fluid? Did I dig too far? It would be easier to see if my eyes weren't screaming at me like that. Actually, most of my cells are screaming, I suppose they're just jealous. It can't be spinal fluid, or I wouldn't be able to hear your voice anymore. But you're still there, just waiting for me. Right? Right?

"Eternal Love"

​

Bound to a tree, an ancient demon,

Centuries passed, time moved on,

But my fate was sealed, my curse unbroken,

Until the day the tree was gone.

​

A human child, with eyes so bright,

Found me in my wooden form,

And with her love, she brought me light,

And warmth to my ancient heart, cold and torn.

​

She rode me, as a rocking horse,

And whispered secrets in my ear,

With each sway, my heart did force,

And I knew, her love was sincere.

​

For in her touch, I felt renewed,

In her laughter, my spirits lifted high,

And in her love, my curse subdued,

For even demons can learn to fly.

​

Eternal love, it knows no bounds,

Even for one as old as I,

For in the heart of this child, I've found,

A love that will never die.

Cool.

"Behold my power, mortals!" yelled Sha'Un. "You have unleashed me unto this world, and now I shall reward you all with the greatest blessing of life: death!" Sha'Un brought forth his arms, directing eldritch lightning at the heroes.

"Stand tall!" Aldrin raised his great shield to the sky, unleashing a holy barrier around the party. "Fiend! You will pay for the evils you have committed against our world--the light shall see to it!"

"Bwahahaha! Foolish Aldrin. Do you think a mere barrier of light can stop me?!" Sha'Un raised his arms as well into the air, and quickly brought it down. What soon followed was a barrage of unholy energy which rained upon Aldrin's holy barrier.

Aldrin gritted his teeth as he continued raising his shield to reinforce the barrier. With every second, the weight he felt upon his body grew heavier, and inch by inch he was pushed back. Soon, sparks of purple magic pierced through the barrier, landing along the trail of dirt Aldrin had made as he recoiled against the attack.

"This should finish it," said Sha'Un. With maniacal laughter, he lifted his arm into the air and threw it back down. An enormous rock imbued with eldritch lightning suddenly appeared, crashing against the barrier of light and into Aldrin's party.

"Gwah!" Aldrin screamed. "How--how were you able to break through my barrier!?"

"Simple: I am powerful," said Sha'Un.

"That may be so, fiend, but we are the champions of light! We shall not falter!" Aldrin unleashed from his sheath a blade made out of pure light. "This is the true power of the people: the Blade of Justice! Demon lords have fallen to this blade, and you are no different, Sha'Un!" Aldrin rushed forward and thrusted the blade into Sha'Un's chest.

"I-impossible! No mortal should be able to penetrate my armor!"

"You underestimated humanity, fiend!"

Sha'Un immediately collapsed to the ground. Aldrin withdrew his sword and his party rejoiced--at last, the demon lord has fallen! As the heroes turned their backs and walked along the trail back to the kingdom, spears of eldritch magic pierce the hearts of Aldrin's companions.

"W-what?!" said Aldrin in surprise and immediately turns around. "Sha'Un? How are you alive!? Your demonic soul should have been burnt to ash by the Blade of Justice!"

"Fool. I am no mere demon lord, Aldrin! I am the first demon lord that was born in the demonic realms. I hold supreme power and dominion over all the fiends!" This time, Sha'Un's appearance became more grotesque, vile, and evil. Four arms sprouted from his torso, and the armor that he once had is now instead raw, demonic scales which colored his entire being into ashen black.

"It's over, Aldrin," said Sha'Un as he teleported behind Aldrin and pierced his chest with his bare arms.

"I-impossible..." said Aldrin. Sha'Un threw Aldrin's body to a nearby tree.

"Bwahaha! If this is humanity's best, then my feast is guaranteed. Say your farewells to your precious kingdom, 'hero.'"

As Sha'Un began to walk towards the kingdom, a burst of light suddenly surrounds Aldrin. His body began to levitate, his chest wound sealed itself, and the Blade of Justice manifests in his hand as a physical sword. Angel wings sprouted from his back, and with one fell swoop, cuts Sha'Un in half.

Aldrin looked at Sha'Un's sliced body in pity, but much to his dismay, Sha'Un's body began to glow a dark purple, and soon the demon lord's body became one once again.

"Come on, how is that fair?" said Aldrin.

"I AM the first demon lord, Aldrin!" said Sha'Un.

The two do battle once again, and Aldrin gets a clean cut on Sha'Un's head, causing it to drop off from the demon lord's shoulders. The body stood there menacingly, and suddenly began to attack Aldrin despite having no head.

"Dude, come on, this isn't even fair anymore," said Aldrin.

"First demon lord!" said the beheaded Sha'Un.

And they do battle again. And again. And again.

"Come on, Shaun! This isn't fun anymore. You just don't want to lose!"

"Nuh-uh, you're the one that doesn't want to lose! I told you, I'm the first demon lord," Shaun protested, his shirt sweaty from all the swordfighting they've been having.

"I've killed you like fifteen times and you've always had an excuse! You just said you had a philoshoper's stone or whatever that prevents you from dying and I have to find it! That's not fair at all!" said a frustrated Aldrin.

"Yeah, Shaun, we've been dead for like thirty minutes now and we kind of want to play a new game now," said Mike.

"You guys are just sore losers!" said Shaun. "You're the sore loser!" retorted Aldrin. "I'm going home," said Aldrin as he dropped his wooden stick.

"Me too," said Mike, and soon everyone else followed.

Shaun stood there as he watched everyone else walk back, only for all of them to go back tomorrow to let Aldrin have his turn of being a Gary Stu.