[deleted]

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life, or so the humans say. When Byra first heard this, she'd discarded the notion. She'd travelled through the triple rings of Peticect-9 and glimpsed the diamond storms along their edges. She'd cast her ship into the rainbow clouds of the Neetan, sampled the star song of Agria-B, stood upon the tallest of the ever-precipice in Keri-Kan-Kena!

Yet all of it paled under a handful of sand.

Earthlings had tried many times to impress her. Yet it was this, this 'beach' that had gilded her soul. She'd been here for hours, digging her soft, scaled claws into the salt-washed soil and lifting up immeasurable beauty. Her escorts, handlers, translators, and whatever else the crowd of humans around her were for, had all grown bored and drifted away. Byra stayed. She stayed because her eyes, keener than a human's, could see the true nature of each handful.

The galaxy is a billion stars, all boiling pots of atomic fire, all swirling with their own patterns, their own songs sung with energy. Before today she thought they were the most beautiful array in all the world. Yet now, here, on this foreign world with foreign people... she found something to eclipse it all.

She dipped her claws in once more and pulled forth another galaxy, marveling at the spectacle of light and color as each grain, each miniscule piece showed a pattern, a swirl, an iridescent gleam of life, death, science, and art. Each handful was new, each grain different, each one a new piece of a greater pattern. It was like holding the perfection of imperfection a thousand times over, every grain astounding in its own right.

Humans, earth, this world... awash with wonder, wonders they ignore with every step. They held astounding beauty at their feet and still they grow bored. She tore her attention away and looked at the crowd around her. humans checking devices, making noises to each other, rubbing their soft, small claws against red, peeling skin. Yet not a single one could see.

How cruel their evolution that they are denied these treasures; how harsh their ignorance, how ravenous their inattention. Byra would shed such sorrow for them when she left.

If she left.

If such incredible things lay so simply in the dirt under their feet, what other treasures could this earth planet hold? Byra had walked this ground for the merest sliver of time, stood in the tiniest dot upon their continents. What could she find in their vast oceans? What could she wonder at in their forests and lakes? If a million jewels can sparkle in her hands, what can shine across the mountains, or the skies?

She stood up, letting the sand trickle and stream from her claws, lifting her head to stare at the earth-bound sky, wondering what wonder might break way her when next the sun rises.

My hand trembled as I stared into the large, intelligent eyes that knew that they were about to die. I was never a killer, I never had courage, and I had loved dragons ever since I was a little kid.

And so, I dropped my blade, and hugged the majestic beast. I could feel its surprise at my action, but I don't care. I've studied this one. Its been misunderstood. It hasn't burnt down a single village, taken a single animal, or have even a singular copper coin. It just wanted to fly, and be free. So I refused to kill it.

My party tried to get me aside so they could do the deed themselves, when suddenly everything around me, except for the dragon, was all grey. Everything was frozen. Time stop. The dragon must've recovered just enough to use its magic.

I heard a booming voice in my head, and I looked at the dragon. It was touched by me, and was willing for me to become his heir by me inheriting its magic. I accepted, and the flow of time resumed.

I fought my once companions, running on pure instinct. I didn't really know how to fight in practical situations, I was just taught martial arts. But the magic that I somehow knew to use helped a lot.

They accused me of being the dragon, that the dragon had really went into my body. I don't blame them, but I keep them from the corpse all the same. With that final use of his magic, the mighty dragon had died.

Once I was finally done protecting the dragon, I looked towards him. I could use his parts to make armor and weapons. But that would mean taking apart his body... and then once again I could hear his voice in my head. It boomed about how he didn't mind me using his physical format to better myself. I then, with his guidance, made tools and armor for myself.

I then lived my now extended life, in his place. I lived in his home, became friends with his friends, protected as much as I could from humans, and fly around. Soon I didn't need armor or weapons, as my scales and claws were all that I needed. I soon intimidated everyone with my roar, and obtained great wings, perfect to fly around in. Apparently I had to become a dragon to safely wield the magic and not feel the strain. Oh well, its a dream come true. Goodnight, humans.

> I paused to contemplate that, before looking at you/me, "I wonder if anyone's thought of God in that way before. In real life, I mean."

......yes, in a kinda speculative way.

Incidentally, and the fact that I am asking it here is spoiling the main twist of the narrative, but have you ever come across a visual novel by the name of >!Doki Doki Literature Club!<?

That's not necessarily correct. Ninjas were also known for their skills in espionage, information gathering, and acting as messengers. So much so that they were considered over a century ahead of their time for the level of skill they had in it. Things like assassination and combat were not of primary concern for a ninja, rather about stealth and acquiring knowledge.

I mean, it sure doesn't look like a mark of intelligence if one's response to such an insult is to bash themselves over the head.

So if I were to make a direct modern day comparison, a ninja would be the equivalent of a construction worker in a hoodie and a mask beating someone to death with a hammer

[removed]

Simply amazing! I was hooked the moment I read the first few paragraphs!

The slight trails of steam rose from both the coffee-soaked man and laptop, coffee cup left rolling along the ground and bumping against the high-heels of a woman who stared at a wall, looking as if she'd been lobotomized.

"T-That-" The leader took a breath- "wasn't supposed to happen."

The robed group held their breath as they watched the coffee soaked man pack away the laptop and stand from his seat.

"This is my stop." He simply said as the train began slowing down. Again, he repeated the words and the group nodded along.

"Yes, we quite understan-"

"This is my stop!!" Damian yelled as he got in the face of the leader. He grabbed the rope tied around the waist of the man, wrenching him along as he wrestled the rest of the cult outside of the train cart. "I'm so great, huh?! I'm so great! And you took my coffee, you took my coffee away!! I'll make you know pain like never before!"

"Please, forgive us! Forgive us!" The cult member chanted on their knees. What a scene; a small group of red robes pleading to a business man in the middle of a train station. You don't see that everyday.

Damian let out a hysterical laugh, cackling and throwing his head back as he ran a head through his hair. Just as quickly as he began, he stopped, dragging his hand down his face and pulling down on his gray eye bags. "Forgiveness? You dare ask for forgiveness?"

"Our lord, spare us your mercy! We'll give you anything- anything! Will a blood sacrifice work?" The leader pleaded as the group took out their wrists and razors.

"I don't need your pathetic blood, what drivel!" Damian seethed in their faces. He snuck a glance to his watch, and an unholy screech ripped through his throat. "I'm late!!"

"What a mess we've made, what a mess... From the bottom of my dark, pa-"

"I don't care! I don't want to hear your whining! You want my mercy, huh? Huh!?"

The group nodded frantically, and Damian pointed to the leader.

"You!! Goldie!!"

Yes Lord!!"

"You're getting me new coffee! And not the cheap shit- the good kind, the luxurious kind that costs half my rent! With double cream too! The rest of you-" Damian waved his finger to the group- "One, two, three, four, five - all of your are getting me a new laptop! I don't care where any of you get the cash from, just get me that laptop pronto! No cheap one either, it better have a terabyte of storage on it. Do you all understand me?"

The group bowed their heads, chanting yes to the raving man.

"Then go, now, now!"

He watched as, just like a pack of mice, the cult split off and ran in different directions to achieve their goals. He's sure they'll manage to find him again, they managed to find him on a train after all. If Damian knew pretending to be some cult's god would be this good, he would've taken it up sooner!

"Can I help you?"

Damian's baritone voice was a mere whisper in contrast to the grinding train wheels and the obnoxious honking car horns. Your standard nine-to-five day, on a regular ol' wednesday, stuck in the sardine-packed train carriage where you were invaded by the smell of pharmacy perfume and cheap cologne.

He was lucky that he managed to snag a seat this time, squashed between the corner and another passenger. Not only was he close to the carriage doors, but he managed to grab the train station coffee - he thought for sure it'd make him wait for the next round. What's better? The person sitting next to him was another regular white-collar like him! No drunk hobos who happened to fall asleep on the morning train, his wallet would be safe.

Well, what goes up must come down. Damian was barely paying attention to his surroundings, focused on finishing and editing the program his superiors wanted done by today. Everything was routine; he'd finish the last few lines in fifteen minutes, passing by two stations by that time. By the thirty minute mark, he'd have to get up and run to the bus station, where he can spend another ten minutes refining the program before getting to his work station.

That's when they got on.

Some time during the ride, a small group of red-robed figures squeezed their way through the tightly packed crowd, mumbling 'excuse us,' and 'pardon me' all the way until they cornered Damian in his little corner. One member pushed the worker sitting next to him away, placing themselves on the seat. Damian was utterly alone, fenced away from the tiny world made in the carriage walls. He might've been slightly worried if he had even noticed, it took one of the figure's, distinguished by the golden embroidery woven into their hood, coughing several times and another pinching his black blazer to actually catch Damian's attention.

And that brings us to the present.

"Yes, you can help us." The golden one spoke in a strident voice, insanity and megalomania woven through his tone as he waved his hands. Well, it was obvious to see who the leader was. "Oh, great lord! Savior of our sins, the martyr who was cast out of holy light! Thou whose name can not pass through our moooorr... My lord, are you listening?"

"Hm? Yeah, definitely. Keep going."

Damian was in fact, not listening. His attention was instead kept between the lines of code that zoomed across his screen.

"He's writing the ancient language!" The robed member squatting beside him poked over his shoulder, pointing their skeletal finger at his laptop screen. "Simply amazing, I cannot even comprehend these words!"

"Let us see, move over!" Another craned their neck over and Damian could barely balance his laptop, backpack and coffee all in one place.

Just leave my coffee alone. If it is safe, then I am happy.

"Fools! We're not worthy! Haven't you listened to my teachings? Your heads will implode from the knowledge, and your sanity will leak from your eyes and be consumed by the great one!" The golden-robed figure pulled the two back, forcing them on their knees.

"I am just coding in python, it's not rocket science!" Damian barely bit back a yell - there he goes again, his emotions are getting out of whack. Just take a sip of your coffee Damian, just get that drug in you.

"O' great one, we, the enlightened ones, have found your texts on our darkest days, and have worked through the trials and tribulations the universe has put us through, to find you... here, on a musty-smelling train." The leader announced, and Damian barely spared his a modicum of attention. He was a minute and a half behind on his schedule! His five second coffee break was delayed by these buffoons!

"Yes, well, reality is often disappointing isn't it?"

"But you can change that! You have powers unrivaled! It was only those-" The man took a breath, as if moment's away from a violent rage- "those pathetic conquistadors who sealed you away, cursed you with mortal body and folly! That is why we're here; to help you regain your former glory."

"That sounds great and all but I'm running behind schedule so I'm.. I'm going to need to stop bothering me so I can get this verrry important work done. Go back to whatever crack den you came from, I'll be right behind you."

The group of robed people seemed to deflate, their hoods turning back and forth as if in conversation with each other - which would be hard since their hoods covered their entire face.

"I feared this was the case. Our lord, mortality has poisoned your mind! Burdened with amnesia with each incarnation! Crushed under the unbearable pressure of... eurgh- complacency! It pains us to see you this way!" The leader placed his hands on his hips, looking down at Damian who continued to type away at a breakneck pace. He deftly nicked the to-go cup of coffee that was precariously placed on the corner of the laptop. "And it starts with this! Drugs to keep us as hardwo-"

"You're going to put my coffee back. You're going to place back exactly where it was, down to the millimeter, in the next ten seconds, understand?" There was a look to Damian's eyes, of truths unseen, of devilish delights that were heinous even to the most hardened criminals. They were eyes that watched giant stars collapse in on themselves, and cheered in delight as gaping black holes stole the warmth and light of suns.

"O-of course, lord! Those eyes, they were exact-"

As the leader had been bending to place the coffee cup down, the train bumped and shifted. What could've caused that? Oh, who knows. Probably a rat.

Culturally yes. In use and typical American understanding? Nope.

‘The Importance of Being Sally’

—-

"The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life. You know who said that, kid?” Asked Edwin Carothers. With slicked-back silver-rippled hair and a thin Clarke Gable mustache, he leered at the young dame.

Sally, the cornfed, blonde-haired, blue-eyed starlet-to-be, shook her head.

“Why William Morris himself, the head of this here fine talent agency. What do you think he meant by that?”

“That you hafta notice stuff ta be happy?”

“More or less. It means for a man to be successful, he needs to take notice of all relevant commercial details, not just a couple of his choosing.” A smug grin accompanied his raised cigar and sip of neat bourbon.

Twirling a curl pensively as if the thought alone was too much effort, Sally inquired. “That’s all well and good fer a man, but what about fer a woman like?”

“First, we must work on that dreadful diction of yours. It’s an embarrassment, I tell you. Sounds like a ravenous guttersnipe. But in answer to your question, you’ve made the right decision coming here to William Morris. Men like me take care of all your casting needs,” Edwin winked.

“I assure you, Sir, I’m not that kinda gal.” Puffing out her chest with her hands on her hips, Sally glared at Edwin. “Why, with hard work and gumption, my mama says I’ll go far.”

“If I had a nickel for every dang fool broad who said something like that, I’d own this here agency.”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Sir.” Tears prickled Sally’s eyes. A soft, perfect sniffle accompanied her doe-eyed look. “It’s just I want this so much.”

His ample belly extending over his trousers, Edwin pulled on his suspenders with both hands and let out a low whistle as he gave Sally the once-over. “You are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Why, thank ya. Do ya think I have what it takes?”

“In spades,” he whistled again, patting his lap. “If only you knew how to work the industry.”

“Could ya say that a little louder? I couldn’t quite hear ya.”

“Let me put it simple-like for a woman’s tiny brain. If you do me certain favors, I’ll help advance your career—“

Sally turned to face the deep burgundy velvet curtains. “Will that do, Mrs. Carothers?”

“Nicely, Sally. Thanks ever so much. I’ll wire your payment.” She pivoted to stare a crimson-countenanced Edwin in his twitching eyes, handing him a stack of legal papers. “As for you, I believe you know why I’m serving you these?”

At the door, Sally paused, speaking in an English accent so crisp, it cleaved the very air. “You know it was William Morris, the noted British polymath that you quoted when we commenced speaking.”

“Yo-your accent? What happened?”

Closing the door, she enunciated, “I attended Oxford, you pathetic, chauvinistic buffoon.”

—-

WC: 484

—-

Thanks for reading! Feedback is always very much appreciated

I was literally listening to Call of Ktulu so imagine my surprise 💀

Weren't ninjas literally just rebel peasants? I swear i remember readung that somewhere

Holy shit! I didn't expect a meta narrative!

Ah yes, just a normal day in Brooklyn

Beautiful!

[removed]

[removed]

I blinked slowly, trying to mentally parse the sudden interruption to whatever I was doing, "Uh...what?" I asked.
The man in red robes bowed, "You are a self-insert, my lord. The incarnation of the author of this, um, post."
I blinked slowly, again. "Um, yeah? I mean, that's true, but why are you breaking the fourth wall?"
The red-cloaked man turned to look at you, the reader. And me, I suppose, since I'm still writing this. Me as in the one writing this, not the me as in first-person perspective-
"The prompt, please?" I interrupted myself, "What's this got to do with being the incarnation of an eldritch god?"
"Well, you already know since you're the one writing my dialogue." the red-cloaked man Mr. Reddy pre-faced his explanation, looking at you/me again, "The prompt is for an incarnation of an eldritch god, what could possibly be more eldritch than the existence of the author in relation to the fictional world they write? A being utterly beyond our ability to truly observe, yet can look upon our world and make whatever changes they desire, to whomever they desire, unbound by time or by space."
I paused to contemplate that, before looking at you/me, "I wonder if anyone's thought of God in that way before. In real life, I mean."
&nbsp;
After a few seconds of contemplating that accidental bout of theology, I (the one in the prompt) started to fidget.
"So what now?" I asked, "Did you just approach me to tell me that I'm a self-insert and to make fun of the prompt?"
"Well...actually, I don't know." Mr. Reddy answered, "The author didn't really think past this point. I mean..." he trailed off, then trailed off to let me say what I (the author) was thinking. That is, to put it in the mouth of my SI rather than Mr. Reddy.
My eyes flicked up at the above sentence, before he cleared his throat, "So, I could ask if this is a scenario like that Rosencrantz And Guildernstern Are Dead book, or that Redshirts one, questioning if we as fictional characters exist before and after the written narrative..."
"Buuut...?" Mr. Reddy asked leadingly.
"But I'd rather be dragons. Do you want to be dragons?"
"I'm being written by the author, of course I want to be dragon!"
And then Mr. Reddy and I were both dragons. Medium-sized domesticated variety, not huge hoarding city-destroying variety. Much nuzzling and cuddling was had.
And that is the end of this piece of writing. If this world continues to exist beyond what is written, it's a world much like our Earth, but with plentiful dragons roaming around who just want love and attention. A positive note to leave things on, for sure.

“Just another morning in Brooklyn,” I muttered while weaving through the foot traffic. My favorite Bagel shop was halfway between my subway stop and my day gig.

While never the same twice, it was always an experience at "Arkham Coffee and Lox."

As I opened the door, the familiar chime rang out. Call of Cthulhu by Metallica blared over the speakers.

“It is he, the eternal one,” the college aged student sitting behind the counter cried out excitedly, jumping to his feet. His pupils dilated and he hurried to the counter.

“I… One Lox everything bagel. I’ve got a meeting in 10 minutes. Can we just get to it?” I muttered “I don’t have time for dramatics today.”

“It is he, the man with the elder sigil.” The young man continued, without taking down my order or answering the question. “Our great master.”

I looked down at my shirt, a holdover from my punk and ska days. It had been inspired by a friend of mine who was a big Lovecraft fan. Our band name had been "Escape from Innsmouth," a post-punk goth outfit that I used to be the frontman for, a secret long since purged from my social media history. It was indeed a cool shirt though.

“It's just a band shirt man, come on we do this every time-” I tried to argue

“We have a reward for our lord and savior,” the young man said, drawing an ornate knife from a holster on his back. “My flesh as a blessing!”

“Hey man, I just wanted a lox bagel.” I muttered, taking a step back. I was a New Yorker, so this was far from the wildest thing I’d seen between the walk from my house to the subway, but I knew “crazy” when I saw it. “Oh COME ON!”

I was shocked as the man drew the ritualistic dagger across his tongue and disemboweled himself in front of my very eyes while cackling.

“COULD YOU NOT?!?” I cried out in a panic “IT’S 7:15 in the morning IN BROOKLYN! Man, who is going to clean this up?!?!”

“MY FLESH FOR MY MASTER, BATHE IN MY BLOOD” The bagel shop employee squealed in glee as he pulled his long intestine around his neck like a feather boa. He seemed unfazed by the damage to his abdomen.

“HEY! CUT THAT OUT!” I screamed at him, disgusted by the macabre sight.

“... Is my blood rite not enough? I can get others to join in.” He said, seemingly dejected.

Before I could respond, three more men appeared from the back of the shop, each in the same uniform, but with scarlet robes. They each knelt before me, dagger in hand and chanting in deep speech.

“I… NO. NO. Just put your guts back in and clean yourself up man!” I snarled. “I just wanted a bagel, what the hell are you doing? This is terrible customer service. I want to speak to your manager!”

One of the hooded men pulled the hood down. “Oh hey, what’s up?”

“I- I just want you guys to start my order BEFORE you start getting blood all over the place.”

I lamented

“Oh.” The manager said, tilting his head “We thought that doing this before your meal would sanctify it under your grace.”

“I mean... I appreciate the effort. But nah, that's NOT necessary today... But can you throw a coffee in with my order? Americano, Medium size, Dark Roast, Black.” I relented.

“Yes your excellency,” The man said with a bow, making for the espresso machine.

The disemboweled bagel shop employee stared at me and blinked twice. He shrugged, and unwrapped his guts from his shoulder, and shoved them back inside of himself. He stapled the wounds with the cash wrap stapler, and taped his waste back together with clear packing tape.

I just shook my head. “Wash your damn hands first, and put on new gloves. What is this, amateur hour?” I barked at him. “Have some pride in your work, stand up straight!”

"Kids these days," I muttered out loud, shaking my head. "Always getting ahead of themselves."

I glanced at my watch. This had eaten up 5 minutes of my pre-work downtime. I sighed out in frustration. “Third time this goddamn week. Kids these days” I muttered, taking the coffee and bagel. “And you call yourselves acolytes?”

“Next time take my order and fulfill it, THEN disembowel. How am I supposed to bring a new era of civilization if this is how my downtime is going?” I spat, leaving the shop.

“SIR WAIT!” The manager called out.

“You forgot to get your card stamped. You’re only one away from getting a free bagel.”

he said politly.

I sighed and pulled out my wallet again and handed him my frequent customer card. He handed it back full, and gave me an extra stamp on my new card for good measure.

“I mean, you know how to keep me coming back.” I chuckled.

"See you tomorrow!" He said cheerily, still clutching the dagger in his off-hand.

"Just another day in Brooklyn."

Calling someone Azathoth must be the most grand way to call them an idiot.

Just another regular day - running around nearly empty streets as a morning routine.

I wonder what I should have for breakfast today…

Bump!

As my mind trails get filled with random thoughts I accidentally brush by a stranger. And what a weirdo - wearing some red hooded cloak that fully hides his face.

“I'm sorry” - I shout as my jog continues, that weirdo did not respond, but I just slightly touched him.

Feeling some concern I turned around to see him lying on the ground. Panicking I turn around and backtrack my way to a lying figure.

On closer look he seems to be praying… and there’s some weird red glow coming out of him?

“Umm. Excuse me, do you need any help ? Should I call 112 ?”

He looks at me and starts praying even harder, his voice seemingly scared. Thinking he's telling me what to do I lean in closer to listen in.

“Brothers and sisters I repeat His incarnation appeared on London street avenue, requesting backup… Oh Lord protect me”

What a weirdo, I really should call 112. Though why is my head in pain so suddenly?

*Pop!**Pop!**Pop!*Pop!

Suddenly I hear weird noises nearby - looking around I see more red hoods appearing - some of them holding bows, others with swords on their waist, some have floating books following them.

As I stay still, not realising what’s going on there I hear a shout behind me.

“Oh Lord, grant me the strength to bind this vile eldritch spawn. Red Chain of Light”

Somehow my body gets really tense and my vision blurs and I see red chains appearing and moving towards me. I glimpse other red hoods shouting and aiming at me too.

Panic kicks in as I start running and my headache worsens - it’s like there’s something growing on top of my head - feeling around. I hurt my hand and started bleeding as somehow I have 2 horns growing now… .

It's not only horns, I'm somehow super fast right now and my speed is rising - I see buildings quickly flash by me as if I`m in a car.

“Oh Lord, help us trap this vile creature, Red Domain”

I thought I outrun them, but I somehow still hear them - or are my senses getting better too? I`m somehow becoming relaxed as well as I feel my strength still growing.

*DUNK!”

Suddenly a red wall of light blocks my path as I crash into it. Trying out my newfound strength I punch as hard as I can.

Crack!

The wall cracks - but starts healing - behind it I see another identical wall.

Having a bad premonition I turn around seeing even more red hoods closing in on me - there’s already a thousand in sight and more keep popping in.

I see lots of them chanting the same barrier spell I heard before and others chanting some sort of group attack spell, while far in distance I see legions of archers and warriors running closer.

Zap!

Somehow instinctively I raise my hand and a similar barrier forms around me, blocking whatever appeared to threaten me though this one is not red, but pure black.

Suddenly memories come flooding in - I suddenly know what I am, who those people are and why they want me dead. Though I do not worry in the slightest as my strength is nearly recovered and those red clowns do not seem to be strong.

I see a complex magical array in the sky - it looks like they’re trying to summon their so-called “Red Lord” to aid them.

Deciding to let them do so I feel nostalgia from the symbols. It looks like my old friend is coming and we might finally resolve our conflict from aeons ago.

I smile as my power flares up.