Gjod moved their Head from left to right, until their neck strained to rotate any further. When they were sure that there was no more give in their muscles, the direction was reversed to the other side. Their gaze falling on fields of brown and grayish green soil, rubble, and a few sooty daffodils barely noticeable at the far end of Gjods vision. They repeated this, in a deliberate rhythm, for a while, before someone hit them in the side.

“Cut it out” barked Ofnet, the tone wasn't mean but still warning. “Ok” replied Gjod, looking directly forward as they had done for a long while. Both sat, back to back, on the ground, each having their legs dangling over a parapet. The rain had stopped an hour ago and the sun had come out in a very ironic display of a deep blue sky with just enough clouds to have a nice and even warm day a bit later.

“It smells of nothing” stated Gjod, desperate to fill the silence, dragging their hands along their side, trying to pick up some stones to throw. Gjod felt Ofnets Chest rise with a deep sigh, but there was no answer following. “It ought to smell of something. Most of the people in my company smelled, even when they were alive. But now, I smell nothing.” Gjod continued, finding a spent shell-casing, bringing it towards their face for inspection. “Looks like one of yours” Gjod said and presented it with an overhead reach to Ofnet.

Ofnet wasn't really in the mood, Gjod felt, and retrieved their arm after flicking the casing away. There was a plink sound and Gjod chuckled: “Six Sovereign Half-Pence say that was one of your side. Sounded empty enough.” There was no reaction from Ofnet, which made Gjod sad.

Around them wasn't much else than endless wrecks of vehicles, miles over miles of tangled wire fence and trenches as far as the eye saw. Blue and Green Uniforms marking where one or the other sides had lost a soldier, and in the middle, the two only survivors.

Gjod felt it had been lucky timing that they realized, guns trained at each other, with fingers on the trigger, that it had suddenly become quiet, just an hour or two ago. They had looked each other in the eye and lowered their weapons.

Two persons coming to a nonverbal understanding and agreement, they turned their backs, and leaning on each other, had sunk to sit on the trench wall under them.

The long years on the front had made Gjod quite sensitive to touch, and they liked the warm feeling of another human on their back. The boredom, or perhaps the countless dead bodies around them, overpowered any further positive emotion in that direction. “What do you want to do? Do you want to throw a coin, which side to go towards” asked Gjod, desperately wanting any reaction from Ofnet: “We can't sit in the warm sun all day and mope.“

There was another deep sigh, but also a thin voice: “It doesn't really matter. I forgot to press the dead-man switch on our doomsday weapon five minutes ago”.

There was silence for a while, then a loud belly laugh erupted from Gjod. This made Ofnet furious, and they shouted: “What the hell? We have perhaps a minute before there's nothing left of us.”

Gjod, suddenly standing up and facing Ofnet, explained over the last remains of their laughs: “What's the chance. I also forgot to press mine.”

I like how smiling was seen as "baring" teeth

Haha glad you enjoyed

Moar

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"Well Night-Wind, pleased to meet you. I admit I didn't do much research upfront on you or your species, I thought I'd experience it first-hand myself. Maybe I should have been a little more cautious. I want to make sure we get off on the right foot. I am here to learn and make friends so I hope you will help me understand how to interact with you according to your preferences."

"It is fine. This is my first separation, and I admit I am a bit nervous." I decided I should guard my feelings and try to project more boldness. "That is my purpose here too. Please do not worry. I certainly am not!" I laughed, proud of my ability to sound authentically bold.

The human seemed unsure. "Okay, if you say so. Well, anyway, how was your trip? Have you come far?"

As we traded notes, Cal began talking over his shoulder, rapidly searching through the entire living quarters.

"What are you looking for?" Surely this human couldn't have misplaced something so quickly.

"Oh, I'm just exploring. I've been to a lot of space stations but never really stayed in one. This is pretty nice!" He darted over to the window, a large oval in the outer bulkhead and gazed out at Longva-III, the planet we were orbiting. "I can't wait to explore the planet and this station. I'm so curious as to what I might find. I hear the flora is fascinating and some of it is extremely dangerous!" "Hmm, I wonder if anyone Well Dives here. I'd love to jump from here down to planetside."

I was slightly horrified. Was this human deranged? Did he perhaps have a recent head injury? I cleared my throat. "Well, I'm sure the Institute has a plan in place for structured, sensible, safe field trips so that we can learn about our surroundings."

"Hah, sounds boring! But I'm sure we'll find some time to have fun." Cal returned to the sleeping area and looked over at my belongings. "Wow, what is that? That's amazing!"

I swiveled an eye to see what Cal was referring to. "Oh, that is a memory stone, one of my parting gifts."

"It's so shiny! The way it scatters the light -- so many colors!"

"Well, I suppose it does catch the light in a pleasant way." He seemed fixated on the mundane object. "Do you not have any possessions?"

"Oh, yeah. I got here ahead of my luggage, but I was told it should arrive by the station-evening. Listen, I'm not sure what your feeding cycle is like but I'm kind of hungry."

My fear spiked for a moment.

"I mean, I was thinking about going to the he nutrition center and getting some food. Are you hungry? I thought maybe we could go together."

"Oh. Yes Cal, that sounds good. Lead the way." He flashed his teeth again as I followed him out of the room. It was remarkable to watch him stride boldly down the corridor, practically acting as if it was his station. But as I brought up the rear, I realized something had shifted with him. He kept glancing back to make sure I was still near. In his eyes, he and I were already part of a group. The "roomie" collective. I relaxed further and felt better. What a strange creature; occasionally terrifying but somehow, his presence was reassuring.

I based my story on that. I never read the book though.

Yes

Oh no. I didn’t know what I was doing. When I ordered the attack on a small, backwater planet called Earth. I thought it would be a simple invasion. A planet of simple lifeforms that used bows and arrows and clubs.
After all, they hadn’t mastered space travel. Such a species is a simple one. What I failed to see, was a group of aliens that have spent so much time killing each other, that their use of weapons and strategy, was so far advanced, compared to our own.
The majority of our landing craft never made it to the surface, blasted into oblivion by streaks of smoke and fire. The ones that did land were overwhelmed by musket fire. Except, their muskets fired many rounds in a row, and only took a few seconds to reload!
The survivors were found by primitive flying machines that used not-so-primitive seekers, and more of those fire trailers. Each one explodes on the ground, wiping out our troops. Slowly, with many losses, we captured a town. Then a roar reached our ears. It grew louder and louder, eventually crescendoing in an almighty bang. A small silvery shape had gone above our heads. High up, yet making an ungodly noise.
We were terrified. It was not like our silent, gravity-driven spacecraft. The soldiers were terrified.
I ran. I weaved through the alleyways, then BOOM! An explosion rang. The shockwave hit and knocked me into a building. I was hurt. Buildings collapsed, and I ran.
More explosions. This time, I was far enough away that I wasn't knocked around.
Everyone inside the town would have died.
I looked back, and all I saw was a firestorm, a raging inferno.
I passed out. I awoke in an outdoor cell. The inhabitants, who call themselves “humans” are walking around a crashed landing dropship. One of the ones that carry the pods. I did not know how they had knocked it out of the heavens, but they had. And they were taking out its main drive. Our invasion has failed.
And they can fly to space now.
They will rule the Galaxy
And I started the invasion
What have I done?

The Road Not Taken

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My separation/mourning ceremony was beautiful and helped give me closure. The elders told me I would eventually find a new community among the aliens and rebuild my identity with them, and my parent group reminded me that I would always have a place in the Universal Community. I felt lucky I was so independent minded and able to tolerate the break better than many would have, and I was excited to continue my education in interspecies relationships and galactic politics. But it was still difficult to be alone, and it didn't help when I was told my assigned roommate was from a predator species. At least their species was social and omnivorous, so it could have been worse.

After a long journey I arrived at Station Alpha-1, located in a system held and operated by the Galactic Species Alliance for the purposes of furthering interspecies cooperation and cultural exchange. First year scholars were housed in the station itself, and after processing I found I had arrived first to my shared quarters. I nervously reviewed information about my roommate's species. They were known as Solarians in the standard GSA nomenclature, and the species self-designation was Human. All of their habits, traits and customs were alarming but nothing adequately prepared me for meeting one in the flesh.

The door abruptly slammed open as the creature stalked into the common room, scaring me out of my skin and making drop my dataslate. It was almost my height, also bipedal, though with a much smaller build. I froze but it must have heard the clatter as its head whipped around, instantly zeroing in on me. It had front facing binocular vision, sharp and focused, and it locked both its glittering eyes on my facing eye. It advanced toward me aggressively, baring its teeth as it came. With my nonfacing eye I could see my resting platform extending behind me and I realized I was pressed up against it with nowhere to go. I took a breath to calm myself as it approached to within one meter, before it extended a limb towards me.

"Hi! I'm Cal! Nice to meet you roomie." After a moment it tilted its head and said "Hey, are you okay?"

I calmed myself, and gathered my courage. Everything was fine. This institution is dedicated to interspecies cooperation. This human is not here to be violent. "Why are you extending your limb toward me?" The human's limb dropped to its side.

"Oh, sorry -- human greeting custom. I'm not used to interacting with aliens. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable!"

"This was a normal human greeting custom?"

"Uh ... yes?"

I forced my muscles back into life. This was fine, just a misunderstanding. I huffed softly. "Its designation was Cal?"

"Well, I am a 'he,' not an 'it,' but yes."

I ducked my head in apology, while keeping him in view the whole time. "I had not yet refreshed myself on human sex/gender expression. Our definitions of analogous things differ somewhat but 'he' the acceptably closest analog for me as well. I am called Night-Wind."

Thanks!

The thing is that the eyes turn red for "evil" things, yellow for "good" things. But... there's very little that's objectively good or bad. The same fire that can warm your heart can burn your body. Even fighting can be for good or bad reasons, as I said. I just figured that the eye color thing ignores context and just has an effective list of "good things vs. bad things."

That is the fun part about writing prompts. You can take them in any direction you wish.

This is so sweet. I wonder if her eyes turned yellow again after that revelation.

I'd had a suspicion ever since she got home. She was skittish and didn't want to look me in the eyes, meaning something must have gone bad at school. I wasn't exactly sure what, but it wasn't something good. Fortunately, like most kids her age, she had one big weakness.

Sweets.

I mean, to be fair, I had the same weakness. I had a massive sweet tooth. But still, it's very hard to resist the allure of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I could hear her pacing in the other room, clearly smelling the cookies as I left them to cool.

"Amanda, are you there?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I am!"

"Do you want a cookie?"

"Yes please!" I put two cookies on a plate, thought for a second, then put two more on. What can I say, I like cookies too. I walked out to the living room, sitting on the couch. Amanda came in after a second, averting her gaze. Well... that spoke volumes.

"Hey, you need a hug?"

"Mmm.... I think I'm good." I set the cookies down next to me.

"Then what about a bunch of tickling!?!" I grabbed her, pulling her on top of me as I fell backwards onto the couch. She laughed, unable to help herself.

"Ha ha! No, no, stop it! Ha ha!" I did, after a few seconds, giving her a big squeeze.

"You know you can tell me anything, right? I'm here for you." Amanda was silent for a bit.

"I'm worried you'll be mad."

"Just tell me what happened, okay?"

"Okay..." Amanda looked me in the eyes. Yep, red. I had a feeling. "...Something bad happened at school."

"What?"

"...I hit someone."

"Oh?"

"Michael was being mean to Abby. So I hit him."

"You know we try and use our words before our actions."

"I did try and talk to him! But he just laughed and pushed me."

"I see. So he was being a bully?"

"Yeah."

"I see." I stroked Amanda's hair gently. "...Here. I'm going to tell you something important, okay? I'd have told you earlier, but I think it would have confused you."

"Hmm?"

"There's... a lot of messed up stuff in this world. And yeah, the whole eye color thing is useful, in general. The problem is that we don't control how the eye color manifests."

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." I sat up, sitting Amanda next to me. "Here, let me put it this way. Think of an adventurer in one of those fantasy stories you love to read. They fight orcs, goblins, undead, all that other stuff to protect other people. Right?"

"Yeah."

"Now, think of this. Are their eyes yellow, or red?"

"Yellow," Amanda immediately responded.

"But why?"

"Because he's protecting people."

"But in the process of protecting people, he's hurting the orcs, goblins, and everything else." Amanda tilted her head, thinking. "There's lots of other cases like that too. When we do "evil" actions, but they're for a good reason."

"...So red eyes aren't necessarily bad people?" I chuckled.

"No."

"...That is confusing."

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'm still confused by it, and I've been around for much longer than you have." Amanda giggled.

"So... am I in trouble?"

"No." I ruffled her hair. "It sounds to me like you were trying to protect Abby, and you tried other stuff before you started hitting Michael. Next time, though, try and let your teacher know first, okay? I don't want you getting in trouble for defending your friends, and they should be able to get Michael away."

"Okay. Thanks." Amanda leaned into me, and I gave her a big hug.

"You're welcome. Now... how about those cookies?"

Cozypasta

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Thank you! I want to write a full length story about the battle one day so it was fresh in my mind from research. More died in the cornfield than on the beach at Normandy or on 9/11. It's hard to imagine.

[removed]

Im suprised no one turned this into a creepy pasta but have no fear, I shall try my hand on it.

Be warned however, it may be too wholesome for your tastes

I appreciate the accurate history behind this story. Well done!!

<Realistic Fiction / Historical Fiction>

What a shit day to die.

Raindrops fell lightly on Luca’s face as he stared up at a dense gray sky. The lingering smell of black powder burned his nostrils. Water filled half his boot, though the chill had long since stolen most of the feeling from his foot. He could feel the wetness, though. It was bothersome.

He tried once more to move, pressing his right palm into the mud. It sank to his wrist before the ground was solid enough to make a difference. But when he pushed, the pain in his abdomen forced a shriek. As his painful cry faded across the field, he heard the flapping of wings as birds realized they were more afraid than hungry.

Nothing but death for you anyway, he thought. Then he wondered how long they’d wait before turning their beaks on him. The thought stirred a fear in his chest he hadn’t felt in hours.

Turning his head to the left as far as he could manage, he eyed the body of the man that pinned his left arm to the ground. If he could just pull away, he might yet live. The hole in his stomach was bad, yes, but nothing a medic couldn’t stitch up in a jiffy.

After a shallow breath, he pulled, twisting his body and straightening his elbow. Something popped in his shoulder—not in a painful way, but remarkably unpleasant. He remained as stuck as he’d started.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “Told ya to lay off the damned biscuits, Harry.”

You’ll thank me later, he heard the man say in the back of his mind, when all them bastards are aimin’ at me instead o’ you.

“Lucky you’re dead, Harry, or I’d kill you for this shit.”

Something moved nearby, prompting Luca to stiffen. He heard the wet, squishing sound of a boot sinking into mud, followed by the distinct sucking noise of the earth trying desperately to make a captive of whoever stepped on the field.

For a moment, Luca was unsure what to do. Everyone he knew was dead—which left only possibilities for whoever approached. The strongest possibility was an enemy. But what would be their reason for walking the battlefield? To kill survivors?

Luca blinked, staring up at the lifeless gray sky. Calling out could mean rescue—or death. He wasn’t entirely sure which one he wanted.

But he did know he couldn’t fathom rotting in this field, pinned beneath Harry’s engorged gut.

“Who’s there?” Luca called out, finding the words more difficult to speak than he’d expected. His lungs lacked the ability to put enough air behind his speech.

But it did the trick. The steps quickened. Finally, a shape obscured Luca’s perfectly dull view, looking down at him with shock in his eyes.

“My lord, you’re alive?” the man said. His accent was familiar—but for all the wrong reasons. Not a friend, then.

“That I am,” Luca said. “Bit stuck, though. This fellow here had the indecency to die on top of me.”

The man’s eyes drifted for a moment before snapping back to Luca. “How very rude of him.”

Luca eyed the man, noticing the lack of a weapon slung over his shoulder. No pistol on his belt, either. If he was here to kill the few survivors, he was doing a shit job of it. Or worse.

“Well, let’s see what we can do, then,” the man said, stepping around Luca. He positioned himself on the other side of Harry, leaning forward to grab his arm. After a moment of pulling and grunting, Luca managed to pull his arm free.

Luca sat upright, the world spinning from the sudden change in position. He felt like he might throw up, but managed to steady himself. Then he noticed the large wooden beam just below his waist.

“Guess that’s one benefit to the mud,” he said. In his mind, he could only wonder where the beam had come from. There were only so many structures on the battlefield; he wasn’t particularly close to any of them, as far as he could recall. But then, he didn’t recall much before waking up here.

“Not sure I see you’re meaning,” the man said. “What’s the mud got to do with it?”

Luca lowered his brow. Perhaps it was a language barrier. The man knew his language well enough to communicate, but the finer points likely weren’t needed for prisoners of war. So, Luca gestured toward the wooden beam.

“The ground was soft enough to push my legs into the mud,” he said. “Want to help me move this thing, too?”

The man stared at him. “I don’t think you should, no.”

Luca blinked. “So what, you’re just going to free half of me and leave me stuck here? Or were you just having a bit of fun before putting a bullet in my head?”

The man shook his head and sighed. “I didn’t free half of you, friend. There’s only half of you left.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

The man stepped closer to the beam, peering over to the other side. “The rest of you isn’t in the mud. Your legs are crushed beneath this thing. To be honest, I’m not sure how you aren’t in extraordinary pain.”

Luca stared down at the beam, eyeing the mud and grime surrounding his lower half. He tried to focus on his legs, tried to feel them. In his mind, he was wiggling his toes. But in reality, he felt nothing.

“Well, fuck,” he muttered. It was a strange feeling, losing his final shred of hope. Some part of him knew, he realized. That’s why the finality of the matter didn’t hit him so hard. From the moment he woke up on that smoky battlefield, he knew he was already dead.

He glanced up at the man. “Got a smoke?”

The man pulled a tin from his jacket pocket and popped it open. His hand was covered in blood and dirt, so thick you couldn’t see where his nails turned to skin.

“Appreciate it,” Luca said, taking the cigarette. “What’s your name?”

“Antoni,” the man said, lighting a cigarette of his own. He took a long drag, staring off at something in the distance. “Antoni Barczkowki, but my friends call me Kow.”

Smoke scratched at the back of Luca’s throat as he inhaled, but he managed to keep himself from coughing. “Well, Antoni, you and I sure as hell aren’t friends.”

Antoni shrugged. “I suppose not.”

“So what are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Not sure, to be honest.”

Luca chuckled. “Just taking in the scenery, then?”

A heaviness grew in Antoni’s eyes. “Something like that, I suppose.”

Luca tried to crane his neck around to get a better view of the destruction around him. Bodies were scattered about, surrounded by smoldering equipment and craters where shells had landed. It wasn’t worth the effort to look at.

“You come out here to kill me?” Luca asked before taking one last drag on the cigarette.

Antoni shook his head. “Someone beat me to it, it would seem.”

“So it would seem,” Luca agreed. He smashed the cigarette into the ground and looked up at the sky. A single ray of yellow light split through the gray, threatening to bring light to this dark place.

Antoni took a few steps to the right, then leaned down and reached toward one of the fallen soldiers. When he arose, he was holding the man’s pistol in his hand.

Luca stared at it, saying nothing.

Antoni stepped forward and tossed it on the ground at Luca’s side. Then he pulled his tin of cigarettes from his jacket and extended his arm.

Luca took the tin and nodded. “Cheer up, Antoni. Your team won.”

Antoni shook his head. “There were no winners today, friend.”

Read more stuff by me at r/Ford9863.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I thought. "My David? What does that even mean!"

The therapist repositioned herself in her chair and took a deep breath. "So, a lot of my clients have had this same issue. It's so common that I coined a term, 'David'. " she explained. "In Hebrew, it means 'Beloved'. Usually, this figure represents someone you have lost, who was near and dear to your heart. Does that sound like someone who was in your life?"

Bewilderment sprouted from me. "I haven't lost anyone yet, the biggest loss I've experienced was a 3 game losing streak in Fortnite." I thought.

&#x200B;

"Yeah sure, grandma is starting to lose it. Always talking about grandpa like he's in the same room, even though they got divorced 20 years ago. But she also keeps bringing up something about a swing or maybe swinger but I don't know what she's talking about. I guess I'm close to losing her, does that count? I really can't recall losing anyone, I'm only 10."

The therapist shrugged "Oh, well in that case, it's probably a demon then! I'll just prescribe you some oxy and get you on your way!"

This reminds me of Evil, the demon George - I think his name was George

The ground bled crimson and from it, the bones of slowly decaying bodies grew through.

But it was above, through the broken field of once green grass, that two men sat beside each other, dirtied and coated with thick soot. Their shoulders were broad but somehow still small — still so young — and when they slumped over, their backs rested against the trunk behind them like it was their only hold to reality.

Though, even without the tree, reality was never realer.

These men, unlike the men lying before them, had been lucky. They had seen the very worst of it, up until the last body was laid and finally burned, like ash in the wind, or tags without names, or faces without graves.

And perhaps that’s to say the war was their grave. Perhaps that’s to say they had always been walking to their death from the moment their mothers brushed the hair away from their faces and kissed their foreheads goodbye.

It was a sobering thought, to know that for all you’ve loved, it was death that loved the most.

The older soldier — taller, broader, and with a hint of a beard growing along his chin — turned to the younger one — shorter, thinner, no hint of a beard in sight — and tried to convey his thoughts without speaking. For no matter how much they spoke, they would never understand. After all, they spoke two different languages, and none knew the language of war better than them.

The younger soldier pursed his lips as if he’d just been sobered by something terrible; something foul and sour and awfully similar to growing old within seconds. But then he nodded to the man beside him, like he knew exactly what he meant. As if they were similar enough to understand each other.

But they weren’t similar. Nothing about them was similar. Their uniforms. The curve of their faces. The gapped teeth within the younger soldier’s mouth. Hell, even their fingers were different. But their eyes, one green and the other light brown, those were bred from the same mother — tasted the same bloodshed, held the same grief, made the same mistakes.

Yesterday they’d been enemies, but today they were only kin. Only two soldiers who survived the same war, walked the same battle, and buried the same corpses.

It was only in the dawn after that they’d been able to finally rest, but even then rest hadn’t come easy.

With a weary sigh, the older soldier closed his eyes, and it was only then that he could imagine the men beside him alive — his company alive — laying atop the field of barley where beneath, seeds sowed youth once more, for mere moments, just once more.

It made him wonder if barley was the same no matter where it came from. Though, when he looked at the younger man sitting next to him, eyes closed in restless sleep, he knew it was.

For it was here, across the battlefield and beside the smell of rotting flesh and bones that rattled even in sleep, that it felt as if they were the only two people in the world.

—

/r/itrytowrite