It all began when the worlds colided.

How it happened or why, noone understood. But now new foes were marching through the land, alien kingdoms were demmanding new lands to expand. When king Andrew "the Conqueror" learned that a band of around 250 men had trespassed his frontiers, he expected the his army to easily fend off the offenders. After all, they were just 250 men armed with pole arms... and there were some children among their ranks!

And now he was sitting on the throne, listening to a messenger's report. "My lord, your army was dispersed" he said, terror in his voice. "They fought valiantly, but those strangers were able to fight off all our forces".

"How is that possible!", yelled king Andrew. "What about our griffoon raiders? Their charge is unstoppable to any known foe!"

"They were killed by lines after lines of pikes. They first killed the majestic beasts and then ended the life of their riders!"

"What about the Valkiry Warriors? They wear great swords, certainly they were able to cut the enemy polearms!"

"Just... a few, my lord. the Valkiry warrior wore no armour at all".

"Outrageous! And what about our infantry? We had over 1500 pikemen! What happened?"

"The children happened, sir". There was an incredulous silence after those words, so the messenger explained himself. "Our pikes collided with the enemy's polearms, it was an stalemate... but then our first line fell, man by man. The children that marched with the enemy warriers ran under the pikes and stabbed our warriors in the knees. That's how they were defeated".

The king sat on his throne.

"My lord, they are marching this way".

"How do they call themselves? What lord or tyrant do they serve? Maybe we can still negotiate a truce..."

"They call themselves... Tercios Españoles, from a foreign land called "España" or "Espania", I'm not certain how to pronounced it. They gave me this message for your eyes only".

The messenger gave an scroll to the king. There was a message written in ink with a polished hand writting.

"To the king called Andrew who helds the title 'the Conqueror':

We, the Spanish Tercios, have been tasked by king Felipe the Second to conquer this land for the greatest interest of the Spanish Empire. We stand no quarrel against you, your family or citizens. Your warriors, while foolish, fought with honor, so I know you will do the same, for only a great king can inspire such a thing in their soldiers.

This is the only time I will make this offer. Surrender now, king Andrew, and you shall be treated respect. If you refuse, know that it will be my honor to fight you until death embraces any of us.

May God bless you,
General Ambrosio Spínola."

I sink my teeth into the bar. The texture is strange, coarse, and the chocolate doesn't last long against the warmth of my mouth, quickly slipping away to a puddle of warm, flavored liquid within my mouth.

"Ugh, Carol, these things are disgusting." I jeer at her.

"..." No response.

I kneel before her, smiling lightly at the idea that she may finally celebrate her birthday with her parents. She hasn't been able to for so long, after all, and I'm sure they've bought her a simply ridiculous cake, with the most overly colorful, eyeball-assaulting colors they could find, though always containing the exact same message.
"Happy birthday! We love you!"

I wince further, as my body compels itself to take another bite of the unfortunate-tasting treat. It isn't long before the wafer and puddled chocolate once again assault my tongue, creasing my face in the progress. I straighten out the wrapper, reading the ingredients and smiling faintly at the bright red logo.

"I used to like these things, you know.." I look at her longingly, awaiting her response.

"..." No response.

"You loved them though. I always made an effort to save you one, each Friday as I passed that vending machine outside work. You know the one?"

My speech slows, and tears begin their advance on the defenses of my eyes.

"I... guess, over 13 years.. you forget the taste.. " I whimper, unable to fully contain the sheer volume of liquid attempting to leave my eyeballs.

"..Here. s-so you d-don't forget... the t-taste. S-so you don't forget... me.."

Relieved to be free of the revolting concoction, I place the half I'd initially snapped away down atop the Earth before me, placing a shivering hand atop her.

"I love you... C-Carol... Happy birthday.."

I fold the wrapper in my hands, and leave her to enjoy her treat. It was always her favorite.

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Who hurt you?

That would’ve been good, well, hindsight is 20/20.

You're welcome, they're well deserved. :)

[removed]

I love this

It helps to get creative too. For example rubber chickens' heads can be removed and attached to an air filled balloon. I call them scream grenades and depending on the brand it can make a very scream like sound or sometimes closer to an air raid siren. Then twist the baloon and kink it into a door frame. Repeat as desired. As soon as the door opens the tortured screams of the souls burning in hell are released all at once. XD

Good work.

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"Consequences..." The word rolling off my tongue like a flame that's burned over thousands of years. Far from death, the truth of the matter is that there truly were far greater consequences than death.
What if you never died... Your life is the same constant thing,though you made a few different choices, it still ended the same. As if time did not matter in the end, it's as if just a tree getting its next layer in life. Just for someone to cut it down and count the years of life, the tree lived. Doesn't mean it's dead, but no further growth comes.

Losing meant two options. Looking right where nothing is left but the cold, empty feeling that sits at the bottom of your gut. Or perhaps looking left where nothing is right, and you feel the blood coarsing through your veins and tighting beginning in your chest as you read yourself down a dark hole.

Maybe it is the job of an overthinker that comes to the decision that maybe death is safer; shame of defeat hiding in the corner of your mind. Gambling with one's soul. Defeat is unchanging. It is so permanent, and the thought of it seems endless as if reaching into one's mind and finding that same unending dark hole. Something you will not be able to change or turn away from. Your own shame.

So you battle to the death.

Quite poetic!

Sounds like fun. If I ever get a partner I'll suggest that

...oh damnit, I forgot about that. Frick.

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Good work.

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"They're all moving in unison! They must be faceless mooks that our well-developed characters will mow down en route to the bad guy!"

the Hollywood army gets slaughtered

"Oh, I get it. This movie must be Communist propaganda, where we're the decadent Westerners and they're the righteous communists!"

Me too! Reminds me of when I used to ambush my roommate with nerf guns. Even worked out a few booby traps. I could definitely see myself doing something like the story above. XD

Rows and rows of croppers yanked fresh, ruby fruit from the wet soil. Others, with baskets, walked alongside the croppers, placing the fruit into a neat pile. Once a basket was full, it was rushed to the processing tent at the edge of the field. Ruby fruit had been an expensive delicacy at Federation gatherings for centuries, but there was no desire in the croppers' hearts to steal. No basket-wielding servant ever pocketed a single fruit. They starved and often died in those fields, never wishing to flee despite the endless and bountiful forest just on the other side of the road from the field they worked. Their rotting flesh fertilized the fruits that their children would pick.

No one wept for the fallen. They continued the cycle of birth, growth, and death alongside the crops they tended to. The Federation was content to enjoy their delicacies and the rest of the galaxies continued in much the same way. Order, progress, and reason were the only pillars that guided the Federation.

A challenge to this status quo had not been conceived since the former revolt was banished. There were no more uprisings. The tumor had been cut off and left to die, alone, in a place that no one would stumble upon. Progress continued. Cures to diseases and normalized luxuries and endless peacetime were known throughout all the cooperating galaxies. What was there to challenge?

A female cropper fell as she carried a basket filled with ruby fruit. Overloaded and underfed, her unconscious body sunk half an inch into the soil, pushed further by the trampling footsteps of her friends and family. A male cropper stopped and was run into by a cropper behind him and another behind them, but the male refused to move. He shoved backwards with an elbow, not strong enough to create space, but enough to halt any further momentum. He knelt down beside the fallen cropper, testing her abdomen for a pulse. Her shoulders rose slowly with each breath, barely visible under the glaring suns.

It spread like a contagion. The rows of croppers, frozen as they waited, suddenly snapped into action, as though woken from a dreamless sleep. They began to fan her and push others away to create space. In time, an entire section of the field had given up their duties to help carry a single woman to the roadside. Some were crying, but others grew angry. How long had they - and the rest of the galaxies - gone on this way without realizing that they had lost something very important.

Federation Enforcement arrived too late to stop the spread of the contagion. The field was in near silence, waiting to see if their friend could be revived by two of the only other croppers who knew basic aid. Ruby fruits were drying out in baskets, left out in the sun on a whim. There was no way to tell who may have seen what happened. No way to know who had succumbed to the illness. Federation Enforcement left, dropping bombs across the field that would leave it barren and lifeless for the rest of time. The ruby fruit would be extinct and a Federation tradition was ended, but Humanity would not spread across the Federation again. Order, progress, and reason would prevail.

Man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much—the wheel, New York, wars and so on—whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man—for precisely the same reasons.

“God don’t grip me so tight when you’re fighting an old bearded guy.”

“Bro your swings are so terrible I want to cut myself”

“Pbbt. Lame.”

“Bro. I’m hungry.”

“Put me back in [the sheathe] it’s cold out here!”

“I’d like a slice of that cake”

“Let’s gooooooo”

(To the enemy) “Damn bro, you swing like a girl”

(To the female enemy) “Damn bro, you swing like — oh wait…You swing like a hairy dude!”

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake. Hahaha oh man I always wanted to do that… Ha… It’s a gaming joke. You don’t get it? Never mind… ^Lame.”

“Wait I thought that’s how I was supposed to do it? Oops”

“Like cuttin butter”

“Raw doggin this hobgoblin”

“Hey look mom! No hands!

“Don’t touch me. I’m harder than Damascus steel right now. It’ll be weird.”

“Bro. I’m hungry again...”

“Can you clean me, dude? I haven’t showered in days”

“Puts a whole new meaning to waxing the sword”

“Zzzzzzzz”

“That’s the most perfect cut in the history of perfect cuts”

“Aw yeah I’m the best. Who da best? I am!”

“No, it’s not my first time slicing someone! I’m not lying! I swear!”

(To you) “You’re not cut out for this but I am”

“$!@& ?%#$”

“Swoosh! Swish! Shhhhng! You like my added sound effects?”

“……”

“…It’s too early in the morning to be doing this…”

“360 no-scope! Omg you just failed that. Dude”

“Can he clutch the win with the last swing… And Ye—never mind… That was embarrassing”

“Can’t… breathe… monster grip…”

“For the gazillionth time you can’t cut a ghost!”

“I’m not meant to be used as a hammer ya know”

“Can we not do this today? I’m tired.”

“Ew ew ew ew! This is so grossss. This is so grossss.”

“Aaaand the dynamic duo gets the dub!”

“I’m trying my best okay?!” fake sobs

“I’m trying my best okay?!” real silent sobs

“Random boner! Just gotta let you know.”

(You to enemy) “I have a better sword than you!” (Sword) blushes

(You to enemy) “I have a bigger sword than you!” (Sword) “GAAAAAAY!”

(To enemy) “Mom, dad, I have something to tell you” sssshng!

“Look at all these nicks bro. Makes me look tough!”

“I wish I was bigger….”

“What? Did I say something wrong”

“What? Did you say something? I was thinking about food. A slice of ham or cheese or bread perhaps”

“Hot chick alert! Hot chick alert!”

(To killed enemy) “Eat it bitch”

“It’s big brain time! But I don’t have a brain! Yohohoho!”

(To enemy) “Cringe”

(To enemy) “You were as easy to hit as yo mama”

(To you) “You suck bro lol”

(To you and enemy) “Watch this…” fails “That’s not supposed to happen. No YOU suck!”

(To you) “Are you in love with me or something stop gripping me so hard”

(When you two first meet) “It always feels like I’m getting the short end of the stick… up my ass… If I had one…”

Thanks! I try to add a twist to most of my short stories (even better when it's dark!)