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Part II: Dressed in black jeans and hoodies, Jack and Jimmy, with their ghost crew watched as the red demon Cernat materialized within a glowing salt pentagram. Jimmy held the only yew they could find, a decrepit old Christmas wreath. It still had tinsel and green ribbons wrapped around it.

          Mrs. Carstairs directed them. "Boys, Jack will have to place the yew bough in the salt barrier. And when it starts growing, the yew will dispel the binding force, the demon will dissipate and we will be free."

          Approaching the chanting mages Jack could feel waves of energy pass thru him like a heavy bass beat.

          Suddenly Cernat screamed, "Interlopers! They are here to destroy us. Stop them!"

          Under three dark hoods, three pairs of glowing yellow eyes looked toward the group. In a barely human voice the lead mage growled, "I can hold the the spell. Stop Jack!"

          The apprentices flew at them like two huge bats. Jimmy ducked and tripped one. It careened into a stone wall not to rise. The second one caught Jack in a bear hug. Jimmy slid the wreath up his arm and threw himself on top of the mage holding Jack.

          The trio stumbled toward the glowing pentagram falling only a few feet away from it.

          The ghosts wailed.

          Jack yelled to Jimmy. "Hold the wreath in the salt then take my hand."

          Then as Jimmy grasped Jacks hand, he became as stiff as a board, his eyes rolling back into his head. Yet, he held firm onto Jack and kept the wreath in the salt.

          The ghosts all gasped and pointed.

          The wreath was slowly growing. It was pushing the salt apart.

          Cernat opened its mouth in a soundless shout. But the remaining mage threw its head back and let out a soul rending scream.

          As the yew twigs grew and strengthened, the salt fully parted. The demon exploded into darkness. The mages collapsed. Their robes deflating into dark piles.

          Jack sat up to see his ghosts floating around him. They were clapping and cheering.

          "Jack you did it. You saved us. "Mrs. Carstairs gleefully told him.

          "Thank you. Thank you. Mr. Jack."

          "Power to you brother, power to you."

          Jack smiled. "You are welcome. But a deal is a deal."

          "Yes of course. Close your eyes." They all said in unison.

          Jack felt a shock wave pass thru his body. When he opened his eyes. He was alone. Jimmy was still holding his hand and the wreath.

          He stood and pulled Jimmy to standing.

          Puzzled Jimmy looked at the fresh green wreath in his hand and asked him. "Dude, what are we doing in this creepy place?"

          Jack laughed. "You really don't want to know."

Part I: Working in the courtyard of his father and step-mothers apartment, Jimmy felt a tickle on the back of his neck. Looking up at the balcony to his step-brothers apartment he saw a strange elderly woman looking out. "God-dang it. Not another one. I told him he couldn't sublet any of his rooms. He's getting the family rate what more does he want?"

          By the time Jimmy had stomped up the stairs, the balcony was empty once again. He banged on the door. "Jack? For f's sake open this door! I am only going to give you one more chance." When there was no answer he left in a huff.

          Jack heard Jimmy yelling and peeped around the corner. He saw Jimmy leave. He knew he was late with the rent. But he was a little afraid to get near anyone living.

          Again Jack looked around the corner and mentally scoped out the path to his front door. He didn't want accidently touch anything that might get called back from the dead. And he made doubly sure the crazies from the cemetery weren't lurking around. His trip home took over an hour because of those idiots. Once more Jack checked out his route to his apartment and looked down at his hands. He rubbed them together anxiously. Yesterday after having worked all day with metal-handled tools he'd forgotten his condition and put on his leather gloves. After carrying several trash bags out to the dumpster ,he noticed a trail of blood drips leading from the shed to the refuse bins. Looking down in horror he saw his gloves were oozing blood. In a panic he threw them off. The gloves tore themselves apart at the seams. The pieces spurted blood and writhed on the ground. Running to the shed he started a fire in the burn barrel, got a metal shovel and tossed the gory leather chunks in the fire. He wondered how in the hell he was going to explain all this to Jimmy.

After a mad dash he gratefully closed his door. By putting plastic bags on his hands he fixed himself a meal. He wasn't sure what fresh fruit and vegetables would do, but after the gloves he wasn't taking any chances. For dessert he got himself a beer and sat down on the plastic covered couch. He used to hate the plastic but for last week he loved it. Jack took a long deep drink. Why did this happen? Why does it feel like I am being punished? Finishing the beer in a swallow he turned on the TV. It was a show about fantasy mages and wizards. Right. If they only knew. It was not two minutes before he fell asleep. As he slept a figure formed from a gray fog into a discrete character. It was an old lady in 1950's dress. She floated about the apartment before stopping next to Jack. She smiled lovingly down at him. It was at that moment there was a furious banging the door. "Jack, this is Jimmy. I know you are in there. Buster we have to talk. NOW! Jack groaned and started to snore. The ghost lady stood calmly and watched him sleep. "Alright." Jimmy said, "Enough is enough." Using his pass-key Jimmy burst into Jacks' living room. "Hey stupid wake up! Who the hell is the old broad?" While Jimmy was yelling at Jack another older person, a man, materialized next to the lady. He too was dressed in 50's attire. The two ghosts smiled at one another. At last Jack woke up. "What? Huh? Jimmy what do you want? Jimmy pulled his half-brother up by his collar and pointed to the two old people standing in the living room clear as day. "I told you, that you cannot sublet any of your rooms. How do you not understand that?" Jack looked at the quaint old pair, one of them looked familiar. "Mrs. Carstairs? Is that you?" She twinkled at him. "Yes Jack it is." Then she gestured to the ge1ntleman next to her, "Jack I want you to meet my husband Peter." Peter nodded at him. "Glad to meet you young man. Thank you so much for taking such good care of our resting places..." Jimmy interrupted him. "Jack. I don't care what you did for them. They cannot live here." Jack shook his head and looked at Jimmy like he was seeing him for the first time. "You can see them too?" Jimmy groaned. "Yes fuck nuts I can see them. And I will tell you something else, smart guy. I have seen at least five other people looking off your balcony." Jack stood up. "Five!? Five more? What?" At this moment five more ghosts floated into the living room from the balcony. They glided up next to Mr. and Mrs. Carstairs. One was in colonial garb and a another man had an enormous afro and was wearing psychedelic bell bottoms, Mrs. Carstairs squinted at Jimmy. "Peter I think that is Edna's boy, Jimmy-Joe. Don't you?" Jimmy's eyes bugged open wide and in a complete panic was soundlessly opening and closing his mouth while he jabbed his finger at their ghostly guests. Jack let out an frustrated sigh, sat down and buried his head in his hands. Mrs. Carstairs looked at the other ghosts and they nodded, so she floated forward a few paces nearer to Jack and Jimmy."Boys, I, we, understand that this must seem odd to y'all. But Jack took such beautiful care of our sacred resting places that we wanted to reward him." "So you made me a necromancer?" Jack asked in exasperation through his hands. Jimmy piped up. "Why couldn't you have let him win the lotto or something?" Mrs. Carstairs looked kindly at the pair ,"I am sorry, but we can't do anything about things like that." Jack stood up and faced the group. "Ok. So why me? And why now?" he pleaded. Mrs. Carstairs and the rest of the ghosts became agitated. "Jack do you remember those awful mages who chased you?" "Yes. Why?" "Well," she paused ,"We are all bound to them through the demon Cernat. They use our energy to do evil." A young girl ghost pushed thru the others."Mr. Jack. Those men do bad, terrible things. They hurt us. Please help us." The big black man with the afro chimed in. " Dudes are not righteous man." Mrs. Carstairs grasped her hands in front of her chest and pleaded- ,"Jack, if you help free us, we will remove the gift of necromancy." Without hesitation Jack responded ,"YES!" Jimmy looked at him ."You are nuts man.

Yeah okay I’m going to have to request more. For… reasons. Yes.

It’s not confusing to the kinds of readers your writing likely gels with. Just saw this comment, and something isn’t right. When a good writer feels the need to explain themselves, they probably don’t need to. If some miss the point, which invariably happens, it means that you respect the intelligence of your audience enough to make them think.

Also bare in mind proper feedback on here is rare, and comments tend to come only when the prompt itself takes off.

Thanks a ton <3

I reckon this nails the perfect WP story.

1. ⁠takes the prompt in a creative direction all of its own.

2. ⁠is exceptionally economical and well-written.

3. ⁠resonates for its realness, which realness is so tragic and unexpected that it functions as a kind of inverted twist.

4. ⁠damn.

[removed]

Sounds intriguing!

The rules have not been written yet, but still do apply for all time, so the future-temporal police is on the case!

Tysm! I’m glad you liked it.

Maaaaaan, you aint gotta apologize, this was great!

Please ping me when you do, I'm interested. Thank you.

I think Dolly Parton “Jolene” reference?

Very real tho. Good piece of writing bring out emotion like thjis

Lola, a beautiful woman in a black satin dress sitting on the curb under a street lamp.

I can just imagine time cops bullying a kid for stealing a candy bar that set in motion a series of events that led to the USSR taking over

This is excellent news and I might find me alt AO3 password. I don't want y'all to see the copious amounts of smut I've written through lockdown.

... just ignore the yugioh Harry potter cross over I wrote 100 years ago.

Beginning of the Fall: The Kingdom's Hero

This is just something I kept thinking about so this may seem random. I'll probably end this with another post about the Queen.

There was little to no resistance as he strolled his way in. The guard captain did his best. He had his men go around the residential district. They assured the citizens that no harm will come to them.

Not that any of them would even want to do anything. Those that had come up felt the healing pulse of magic wash over them. They no longer felt sickly. A lot of them had injuries from being overworked. They were healed within moments.

An elderly shopkeeper came out. He had been having trouble with his back for a while. He felt spry. He still felt his age but he was sure he could go on for a few more years.

This old man saw Grimzon and respectfully bowed his head. Seeing that, the other citizens started to do the same.

“Good,” he muttered to himself as he neared the nobles’ district. It was here that there was some form of resistance. Some of the guards were hesitant. They didn’t want to go against the sorcerer. But the noble behind them was barking out orders.

‘If I kill him,’ he thought. ‘It will be an achievement.’

“Oh? There are fools who still don’t know their place?” Grimzon stopped in front of the guards.

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” The noble barked.

“No.”

“I’m—”

“Dead,” he cut him off. Along with his head. The wind blade was fast and precise. It was also chantless, a feat most court mages desire.

As the noble’s head rolled, the guards started to part. They threw down their weapons and lowered their heads.

Little to no resistance. Barely an inconvenience.

A couple more foolish nobles later, and he was near the royal residence. Why did he walk, you ask? To show that he can simply stroll into the kingdom. That those who would dare go against him would be put down without mercy. Plus, he wanted to show the people who exactly it was they were dealing with.

“Halt!” There was one brave enough to ignore their foolishness.

“Ah, the ‘hero’, was it?” Grimzon sneered. “More like a lapdog, honestly.”

He flicked his wrist and sent an earthen spike towards the hero. They blocked it easily with their shield.

“I’ve heard about your ability,” he said. “I think you’re wasting your potential.”

This hero had the ability to enchant items with ‘words’. From what he heard, they were famous for their combat ability. They were known for countering their opponents. They had shields that ‘block everything’ and weapons that ‘can’t be blocked’.

They were also notorious for shaming all the warriors of the kingdom. They kept proving themselves to be the strongest. They even had a contest with some of the smiths. They enchanted a weapon as ‘stronger than any sword’ and that was it.

The king made use of them to cut the budget of the equipment. Who knows where that extra funds went. But once that enchantment runs out, it’s just useless scrap. That was how he dealt with those knights. Just... enchantment removal.

“You have no idea what I can do,” the hero said smugly.

“Well, neither could you,” Grimzon chuckled.

At that moment, the earth spike hit the hero’s side.

“You can block but only when and where you know it’s coming from.”

Agitated, the hero summoned more shields that spun all around them. Grimzon crashed down a lightning bolt on the hero. After that, he kept sending jabs at where there were openings.

Eventually, the hero holed up in a ball made out of shields. There were spears protruding from them. It was supposed to be the combination. Unbreakable shield. Unstoppable spear.

Feeling victory in their enclosed space, they started rolling towards the sorcerer.

Grimzon stopped it with but a hand. (Well, physical enhancement spells helped.) Wind blades snapped off the spears.

“Yeah. The shields are not unstoppable and the spears are not unbreakable,” he laughed and shook his head.

“[Agneyastra.]”

Scorching hot flames surrounded the lump of shields. The spears started to melt and seal off the ball of metal.

Grimzon could sense that the hero was still alive. They probably enchanted themselves with the ability to ‘survive anything’. He had his suspicions that the skill was not limited to items. He wondered if the disappearances of maidens had something to do with this. Every time the hero visited a village, one or two young girls would end up missing.

“Well, enjoy your trip.” A bit of anti-gravity magic made it easy to send the lump of metal flying. It should reach one of the suns in time.

Even if they survived, the hero would stop thinking eventually.

Well, that was more depressingly realistic than I'd expected...

In case mine is confusing: I ignored the time travel conundrum and just did a spin on the moral quandary of if you should wait for a crime or bad thing to happen before taking action.

“Yeah so I would like to confess to all of these” he placed the box on the desk in front of the duty Sargent who seemed visibly confused.

“You want to confess to all of these…” he said pointing to the box. The man nodded and the Sargent moved the box towards him. He gingerly opened the lid peering inside.

“Fake IDs?” The Sargent ventured.

“Oh no. Each one is a missing person I think you will find. Well… a person I murdered that you won’t find is probably more to the point” the man couldn’t help but smile. He had always prided himself on being several steps ahead of the authorities.

“Johnson, Malloy, Williams front desk now!” The Sargent barked into his call button.

The three officers piled out of the station doors weapons at the ready. The man slowly raised his hands, a wry smile on his face. Swiftly the officers secured him barking orders and patting him down. They tugged at the ceremonial dagger in his waist belt until it came loose screaming “knife!” As they pushed his face into the hard floor. Still he smiled.

It was about half an hour before they brought him into an interrogation room. They came with water and food. It was a portly detective who came in first followed by an attractive young woman.

“Well hey there friend sorry you got a rough welcome…” he started trying to sound friendly.

“Please read me my rights. I waive my right to a lawyer and wish to make a full confession” the man said evenly just as he had practiced.

The man sat bolt upright. The woman lent in. “Ok I’ll do that.” She said rattling his rights off in a well practiced manner. “Do you understand your rights as I have explained them to you?” She said finally.

“Yes thank you” he purred “I wish the confess to the murders of all of the people whose IDs could be found in the box I gave the Sargent earlier. With each of the IDs is a note that contains the details of the murder and the location of what remains of the victim. I am of sane mind and contained in the box are the psychiatric records from my last 10 years of visits to three different and simultaneous psychiatric doctors that I have been seeing who will verify that fact. I have also take the liberty of including as much evidence as practicality possible for you to convict me of this crime. I expect and want no mercy.”

The woman now sat back as well. Both the detectives got up and walked out of the room without speaking.

Later in his cell the man could hear the clamour of the media and the arrival of the other agencies outside. This was the biggest case that had broken in their history and they had literary done nothing other than read him his rights and put him in jail. The addict in the cell next to him was beginning to go through withdrawals. “Yo man, you holding?” The desperation in his voice was obvious “like anything man? They shoulda given me something by now…”

The man just closed his eyes and smiled.

“junkie”

“What?!? I can’t I’m locked up!?! They took my dagger!” He pleaded

“junkie” they whispered again more forcefully

“They caught me! I’m in solitary I can’t DO anything!” He begged

“junkie” less of a whisper this time

His hand spasmed and began to elongate causing him extreme pain. He cried out as his hand morphed into a sharp point of flesh and bone.

Suddenly his body felt as if being pressed between two stone columns. Flattened. He cried out again. “What are you doing to me?!?”

“blessings” the whispers came back

“Yo are you ok there man?” The junkie called out.

“junkie” insisted the voice.

There was no doubt what he had to do. Less he be further blessed. He slipped between the bars of the cell easily in his new form. His spike like hand at the ready as he moved into the cell next door.

"...sadly, miss, in these situations, there is little we can do." The officer said to Angela. "Has he hurt you? Your children? Anything violent? Anything illegal? You said to the dispatcher that he was screaming. You sounded scared, the dispatch said. Are you scared?"

A million thoughts flew through Angela, one of which not wanting to accuse her love, the man with whom she'd been for years.

"No. Like I said," Angela said. "he has not hurt me yet. He promised he would. He swore it. Then," She lowered her voice. "When you showed up, a flip switched, like a lever. One hundred to zero. He's pretending."

Officer Royce believed her. All the worse for his conscience.

"Ma'am, do you have any family you could stay with, just for a few days until this calms down?"

She, of course, did not, having moved across the country for her man.

"No."

"Well, ma'am. Again, the dispatcher sounded concerned. Is there anything else you'd like to add? Anything that he has already done, not just thought about or talked about?"

Angela's gaze found the floor.

"No." She croaked.

Her body was found decaying several weeks later, following a wellness check from her father.

[removed]

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

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses &#129302; >* 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

&#127381; New Here? &#9999; Writing Help? &#128226; News &#128172; 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.