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OHOHOHOH, you bet your ASS i wanna read the rest of this masterpiece! i am but a humble lump of broccoli on your stovetop, steam me!

God i love it

I wrote more!

Obligatory I wrote more as a reply. Feel free to read it.

I lie on my bed watching Wishmaster when I hear my dog barking.

Mail's here... I sigh to myself.

The postman hands me a small package as I rush out. "But I didn't..." Too late. He's gone to the next house.

"Uncle Abraham? What's this? What'd that old codger send me now?" I read the letter: it's almost in an illegible script.

"Dearest William, how are you? Enclosed, I send this key. I picked it from a market stall in Tehran. The seller has informed me to please be careful and not to make wishes out loud as it will come true in the worst possible way... it's said a jinn possesses it. Please do not make the same mistakes I did: I lost my fortune, Aunt Anya died suddenly, of a stroke, and bad luck now follows me. Warmest wishes, Uncle Abraham.

P.S.: Please do not try and get rid of it."

"Yeah, right, I---"

The dog continues to bark incessantly. "WILL YOU SHUT UP?! HE'S GONE!" I yell at the dog to be quiet.

"I wish that I couldn't hear that stupid dog anymore..." I say to myself and the key glows red in my hand, then fades.

Nothing. "I knew it. Piece of junk. Feeble old man---"

My hearing has vanished mysteriously and I can't hear the dog anymore.

I look wide-eyed at the key in my hand. The number 1 has vanished.

I run outside and throw the key in a nearby river.

As I walk back to the house and unlock the kitchen door, there it sits, dry as a bone and unharmed.

"Stupid piece of... I could've sworn I... meet garbage disposal!" I pick the key up and throw it in.

And that's the end of---

The blades whir, then stop and smoke. The key is unharmed, but the blades are bent. The key gets spit back out.

Something taps me on the shoulder.

"Having trouble, are we?"

A grotesque, humanoid form covered in blue marks stands behind me, grinning toothily.

"Go on. Make another wish and this'll all be over. Do you wish that?" This must be the jinn.

"Yeah, I wish---" I catch myself before saying it. Wait! NO! Don't do it! This sounds like...

"Oh no, you don't, you little tattooed putz!"

His face falls, like he'd just been foiled for the first time in 800 years.

"Bravo. You've got 2 wishes left, you know. Why don't you wish for a place better than this dump? Or perhaps you'd like SOMEONE gone."

"You must think I just fell off the first turnip truck that rolled into town. Didn't you hear me the first time, you tattooed freak? I ain't buying, so shove it"

I added a little more story as a reply. Feel free to read that.

I did a little bit more. I couldn’t put the whole thing in there. It’s a bit too much for WP I think.

There is always more.

—

We had spoken so deeply about the project that neither of us noticed the bell had rung.

He looked around and chuckled. “It seems that for the first time this class is actually engaging. Usually I am the first to leave.”

I put a hand to my cheek. Was it hot? Or was it that he was speaking in my direction and making it hot? He kept chuckling at me.

Pam walked quickly over to our table. She smiled cheerfully at Sasha.

“Hi. I’m Pam,” she chirped. Her hand shot out. Sasha gently shook her delicate hands in his large ones. Pam gave me a knowing glance or drama. “Shall we depart this place?”

“Yeah let’s get out of here,” I said, hurriedly gathering my items.

Sasha gathered his as well. He looked warily at his jacket, then opted to put it on.

—

Classes with Sasha were much more interesting for the rest of the day. We didn’t have every one together, but the ones we did were fun.

He was more talkative to me and Pam but no one else. Especially in Dragontongue. He spoke so quietly, as much as he could, that I had to lean all the way in to hear his voice.

“If you were to say that word in the southern regions it would mean to place bricks or stones atop each other as if building something. If you said that in the northeastern region, it means to fu— I’m sorry. To have relations with someone.”

Pam squealed and covered her mouth. I covered mine too. “Are you serious?!”

“Yes. And if you were to say this one in the Northernmost tip of the country, it is basically calling someone a piece of filth, while just a few regions down it simply means to clean something. You could get into a fight if you just go around saying some of these things just anywhere.”

He pointed out even more egregious language errors. And I leaned closer to see each word he pointed out. At one point, I had become so close that the heat radiating from his mouth warmed my face. I felt myself tremble. It was like some deep memory of my ancestors was awakening in me. Gods, all I could thing of was what kissing him would be like. That breath of flame like fire. I wanted to look into his throat where I knew a flickering flame lie in wait.—

“Class is over,” he rumbled into my ear, the hotness washing over my neck and head. He knew. He knew what I was thinking. His hand brushed against my arm as he got up to gather his things. I thought it was an accident until he glanced at me and smiled faintly. I composed myself the best I could. But Pam was at the edge of cackling.

—

Dragontongue had been our last class of the day—“you want that Dragontongue real bad huh?” Pam had teased—and Sasha was still wary of speaking aloud to others, and would not remove his jacket again. I was weak in the knees to be honest. I had no idea what to do with myself. I knew I was being so obvious. I am not good at hiding that sort of thing.

“It has been a fun time today. I hope we continue to be friends this semester. You two have been the most welcoming.” He said graciously. Pam smiled and waved. He made to leave.

I must have looked so disappointed because he stopped and turned his head around.

“Unless you had no plans?”

My whole brain broke. Plans? Uh…

“Huh?” I asked.

Pam perked up. “Nah she doesn’t have any plans.”

Sasha raised his chin and looked out the window. “We can go for a walk and speak of our project.”

“Okay see you later Leila. Call meee!” Pam said, and she hightailed it out of there. She left me!

I put my hands in my hips watching her speed away. Then I sighed, looking back at Sasha. Now that we were just standing there, I realized just how large he was. He was literally the only person in school taller than me. He gestured for me to walk beside him. I did. We didn’t say much until we left the school building. We walked along the quad together. Some students were staring at us. I suppose we made quite the pair walking together.

Truthfully, I had been staring at him in classes since he arrived that first day. I had noticed how smart he was in everything, and had been silently competing with him…

—

We ended up in a secluded spot near the lake, shaded by trees. Why did I lead him here. I know why I led him here. Or did he lead me…

Needless to say, we did not talk about the project. I plopped down on the grass. He did as well. I could hear that deep guttural noise in the back of his throat. My gods, if this was going to mess me up every time he made a sound I was a goner.

He seemed to be mulling over something.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I apologize if I was forward in Dragontongue class today,” he said. His baritone shook me to the core, the perfect frequency to rattle my bones. Was that it?

“Wait. Sorry? What?” I replied, confounded.

He chuckled to himself. “I don’t know what came over me,” he said, looking puzzled. As if this did not happen to him often.

Now I could play this one of two ways. I could play coy and flirtatious and mysterious. Or I could do the opposite of that and make a fool of myself.

“I… liked it?”

Fuuu— why did it come out as a question?

He looked surprised. And relieved. He brought himself closer, accepting my invitation. He removed his jacket, his muscles arms flexing.

“Really? I thought I messed up,” he mused. Laying the jacket behind him.

“Did you not see my goddamn legs shaking,” I muttered quietly under my breath. Not quietly enough.

He turned toward me. “Yes, I did” he replied, a wash of heat over me. I rubbed my face. What was he doing to me?

“I wish you would do it again,” I heard my mouth say. I was screaming inside.

—

I think the rest might be a tiny too steamy for WP. I had to Edit this one. I’m not sure. If you want to hear the conclusion of this particular part just let me know.

Stacy’s _____ has got it going on

That would have been my first guess. I guess your post was a bit out there. I'm not interested in rereading it, but did you save a copy at all? I always think it is a shame when we lose the only copy of what we worked on, even something as... unique... as your post :P

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Yes

I think I need to find this key.

I have a at least one wish that I want to unlock.

Aboard the ship now, ‘Samuel’ removed his disguise and dusted off any remnants of the sweat which had plagued him yesterday night.

“So, how’d it go?” the commanding alien turned to meet his subordinate.

“Most peculiar. She would not stop looking at me… looking in my eyes. I had not the faintest clue what she was trying to convey.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking we shift our gears more toward that in the human language department. Humans are peculiar creatures, after all. But even then there are stunning parallels between them and the creatures they think they are above.”

“Like what, sir?”

“The lady you bedded earlier had literally told you verbally she wanted to have intercourse, no?”

“She did… so what?”

“So what? She literally voiced to you, a potential mate, that she wanted to.”

“I still don’t see the significance. At least not in the ‘parallels’ between humans and other Terran creatures you claim exist.”

“Don’t you get it?”

“No…”

“Well, let me help you here… ah, what do you think birds are yelling to each other when they sing? Or, what do you think insects are doing when they release attractive pheromones? What do you think dolphins are doing when they chirp to each other, whales when they bellow? What exactly is it that they’re saying?”

“I- oh…”

“Got it?”

“Yes, yes…” ‘Samuel’ turned around, beginning to walk away from his superior. “Mating calls. You find them everywhere, don’t you.”

“Indeed. No matter how advanced these humans think they are, they still have to yell to each other for it to make it happen, it seems.”

————

Cindy was back in the same coffee shop she had been in, the one where she’d met the piece of ass she’d end up sleeping with. This time, she was accompanied by her friend, who insisted she tell her all about it.

“It’s just… he was so oblivious. I kept throwing signs at him, but it wasn’t until I straight-up said I wanted to fuck that he did anything about it.”

“Tell me about it. Always so clueless,” her friend responded in agreement. “I mean, the way they act sometimes, you’d think they were some sort of, I don’t know, alien species- not someone who was part of the same species as us.”

“I know, right?” Cindy replied. She continued, “Men: The Aliens of the Human Race!”

Her friend erupted in laughter, wittily replying “Don’t tell me that wouldn’t make millions in the box office!”

And as the quips continued, and laughs were shared, it appeared that Cindy was just as oblivious as she thought Samuel had been the first time. She knew not how close she came to the truth.

The ship returned to the atmosphere, invisible and see-through as always. This time, a new alien, ‘Danny’, was sent out. “Initiate Plan B,” the commanding alien said overhead, peering into the store at Cindy with her friend, “let’s try two at once.”

“You sure this is it?”

“Yes, yes, now go!”

‘Samuel’, as he would come to be known, hesitantly strode over to the entry door of the coffee shop, one foot in front of the other.

Come on, he thought to himself, you spent weeks practicing the human method of walking in basic training- so get it over with!

But just before he could slide stealthily into the coffee shop, his fingers trembling on the entrance doorknob, a surge of nervousness swarmed his body and made its way to his mind’s gates, overwhelming him.

He snuck away from the area and immediately turned toward the invisible ship to voice his concerns. “You’re… you’re absolutely, 100% certain, 100% sure, that this costume is working?”

“…Samuel.”

“What? It’s a genuine concern-“

“Samuel. Don’t you think, if the disguise were to be broken, that everyone in the area outside the shop, as well as literally all of the people in this general area, would notice and point it out?”

Samuel exhaled a sigh of contempt and responded haphazardly. “If… if you say so.”

Approaching the coffee shop for a second time, Samuel willed himself to the task and forced his way in. He swore he could feel the burning gazes of every onlooker being branded into the back of his head- but a quick survey around himself disproved his anxiety. He turned back to the front of the shop, his eyes now lazed in relief.

“Oh… for God’s sakes, what are you doing? Just standing there? Get to the task at hand or I’ll just come in myself and do it!”

Samuel instantly shot up straight- an action that drew some attention toward him. But the curious looks and prying stares soon faded into the air as the customers realized nothing of importance was transpiring.

Now newly motivated, Samuel made an order for a cup of coffee and sat at an empty table. It wasn’t long before his name was called to go up and retrieve his beverage.

But, according to plan, Samuel did not return to his original table upon paying for his drink. Instead, he located the table over, where, sat in one of two chairs, was a mostly absorbed woman with glossy red hair and glasses obscuring some of the dimples spread out on her cheeks.

Samuel approached and pulled out the chair in front of her. “May I?” he asked.

The lady pulled off her headphones and stared at him, her attention fully absorbed in his stunning looks. For, to make this conducted case study much easier and more efficient, the alien’s disguise was made much more generally attractive in a way that the aliens hypothesized would stimulate human love and attachment. And it was clear that it was working.

“S-sure, go ahead…” she stammered.

Samuel sat down with a surprising confidence that rivaled his anxiety that had flooded him only moments prior to entering the coffee shop. Though, at least here, he had no reason to be scared. Not only was she a human, and not of his species, but the concept of love as humanity came to understand it didn’t really exist back where Samuel was truly from. So he sat, silently, waiting for something to be said, his eyes locked in hers.

But nothing came to be said. She just stared at him. The table remained in silence as the atmosphere in the coffee shop grew to be more deafeningly quiet. And then, all of a sudden, she began to move her eyes. Not in a darting way, as if she was desperately trying to find something else to look at- no, more like in an almost gesturing way. Samuel was confused by this- disoriented, even. What was she trying to convey by doing this? Was she even conveying something? Was this just some sort of human reflex or behavior that his class had glossed over?

It was all too much for him. So he excused himself to the bathroom and locked the door.

“Samuel, what are you doing?” The commanding alien asked.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what she’s doing. I mean, did you see what was going on? She never said anything. She just keeps moving her eyes around. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Calm down, Samuel,” the higher ranking alien replied, “now, we understand that this is largely uncharted territory. There is much more to be understood in the way of human communications and conversing, and our research teams, unfortunately, have snagged a roadblock here when it comes to eye contact. You’re just going to have to bear it out. Here, why not try initiating the conversation yourself?”

Motivated once more, Samuel stepped out to be met with her waiting gaze- though, of course, he did not know that, He just thought she was staring at him.

He sat back down and thought of things to say. Instantly he thought back to Unit 7, “Human Small Talk”.

“How’s the, err, weather?” he stammered out, “is it treating you nicely?”

“Eh,” she responded, “same as always. Never rains down here in Los Angeles. Are you from here?” she inquired after.

Yes, he thought to himself, I did it! I started the conversation!

“No, no, I’m from,”, a quick pause to think about his brief stint in Terran geography, “Florida. Down there, weather-wise, you never know what’s gonna hit you next.”

She laughed, hard- so hard that it wasn’t really appropriate for how funny his remark really was- and nudged his shoulder, peering at his arm, before looking back up to him, in silence.

Crap, he thought, she’s doing the thing again!

Quickly, he started another conversation. This time, though, it was more bound toward executing the experiment. “Say, wanna get out of here?”

“I’d love to,” she said.

Samuel set down his drink and walked her out of the store. Having now initiated Phase B, he was delighted to see a vehicle already parked out front of the store.

He led her to it, taking out the keys that had been planted in his pocket beforehand. She giddily claimed shotgun as he hopped into the driver’s seat, key in the ignition, ready to take her to the set location around ten minutes away. That should give him plenty of time to talk to her and get some vital information that may benefit his team’s research efforts as a whole!

And, as he recalled his driving lessons in the first part of Unit 3, he waited patiently for something to be said. Anything.

But no. Silence. Even as the car rushed down the road and into the suburbs, it was nothing but her perpetual staring.

Every time he’d try to get something, anything out of her, she’d quickly end the conversation and continue with her meddling gaze. He didn’t understand, nor could he comprehend her and her actions.

Finally, she and him arrived at the location of Phase C. He breezed out of the car, herself latched onto his arm, her eyes cleaved onto his stunning jawline. At this point, he just wanted to get the experiment over with.

“Alright, this is the most important part,” the commanding alien came over his earpiece, “the human mating ritual- or, more specifically, the lead-up to the human mating ritual; how it is started, how it is initiated. This, right here, is what this entire study is about, Samuel. So do not mess this up!”

Samuel silently nodded. At this point, both him and her were sat comfortably on the sofa- her leaning on his arm, him sitting upright. On the television in front of them played The Matrix; and while Samuel was fixated on this, it seemed she didn’t mind just looking at him the entire time.

Finally, Samuel looked down to meet her gaze. It was a heavy stare- eyebrows relaxed, pupils dilated, and her eyes static. Five minutes passed as she kept staring- and, in this lengthy, awkward duration, she had even begun to bite her lip in anticipation. To her, it seemed almost too clear what she wanted for Samuel not to get it. But, meanwhile, he was scrambling around in his mind for any scrap of comprehension at all.

Finally, she gave up, throwing her tank top to the ground, with nothing but a top on. She said impatiently, “are we fucking, or no?”

Finally, Samuel thought to himself, some clarity!

And with that came the final step in the study.

The commanding alien came over the earpiece. “Initiate phase D.”

————

This makes for a great way for the key to grant its wishes: providing you a key to a place you'd have to be and guaranteeing you'll appear at the right time. But to make it fair, you'd have to put in the effort to find the right lock that the key opens.

Excellent! Intriguing world building in such a short story. I'd read more!

The sounds of miserable retching echoed off the basement walls just as they had been for the past week.

I wet a cloth and wrung it so it wouldn't drip on the way in, and handed it to her. She took a break from vomiting and trembling just long enough to wipe her skin and swallow the knot in her throat.

This is the longest she has gone without blood so far, and for all my reassuring and encouragement to stop; that she needs to take baby steps, and that breaking her record by 1 day was good enough, she insisted on pushing on. I knew better than to harm her resolve by pushing the issue any further. This was her choice to make.

11 months ago, Emia became a different person.

Emia had been cornered and grabbed by a woman in her 40's, bitten with venomous fangs, and lost almost a liter of blood. That should have been the end of it. But Emia's body did not wipe out the invading disease when it could welcome it as symbiotic. She found herself clumsy and impaired by the rough, jerky movements of her blisteringly fast muscles; pound for pound as strong as a tiger or bear. Her mouth was full of bleeding cuts as she "bit the fuck out of it" on a daily basis. She saw her last sunrise before she woke up with eyes mottled with large, ugly red and brown scalera and pupils meant for seeing in the dark. Sleep would not come at night.

For all the woman's profuse apologizing, she couldn't take back what she had done to Emia's physiology. She had colored every social interaction Emia would have from then onward. That was the second Emia I knew. The sad and desperate one. The third arrived to swipe my friend away with a flurry of intense stress and and aggression. She hadn't become shunned overnight. Not for reasons outside her control. You can deal with people looking at you like you're a charity case that might snap any minute. You can't deal with feeling that something is fundamentally, conceptually wrong with you. When you wake up every day of your life, feeling like a passenger to a hellish cycle of failing even the most basic of tasks, you don't take the rudeness and verbal onslaughts of random strangers on the chin.

And take it she did not.

That was the birth of the third Emia. The single inch she stood above my height would feel like a mile. Her muscles were steel wire under tension. Her eyes could be accusatory and guilty at the same time, and to pass her in the street felt like a cannonball had just barely missed your chest. We knew what she did. She knew what she did.

And like that, she was gone.

Three months ago, someone came back to the village claiming to be Emia, but none of us recognized her. Though overbearing and neurotically cautious, this Emia didn't want to hurt people. She simply believed she was. You could hardly speak to her without saying something that would send her backpedaling and profusely scrounging for something to apologize for. One by one, people fell off. The mannerisms and the drama left them uncomfortable enough to try and return to the days when she was out of sight and out of mind. But I grew up across from the first Emia. We drew an entire kingdom in the sand together. I felt I knew her better and I could see where the actual her began and ended.

The fourth Emia needed only a drop of blood from people to hold her off for a few days. A drop that any sane person was unwilling to give. But I had bled and bled for plenty of my life, and I knew no difference. Which brings us to where we are now.

"It's morning now. You've officially made it two weeks." I told her. Head slumped between her knees, she nodded slightly. I offered her a hand but she rose on her own on impulse. I was silent as she ascended the stairs and squinted out the window at that bright, blurry ball on the horizon. "We both know how this has to end." I told her. No response but the gentle thump of her head leaning on the glass. I placed a bottle of strong spirits in her hand, and you could see her stoicism turn to silent disgust for the object. Wrapping the strip of cloth around my arm, I kept breaking the silence. "Don't make me wait."

Good enough for her. Begrudgingly she swished the alcohol in her mouth and around those daggers of hers. The soft skin under the bicep makes the perfect target. I tense up, but I'm always tense. I'm paralyzed and lowered limply into a chair, but I have time to sit. She won't take too much. I know it.

Between the occasional misery of blood fastings, there's a person there. Someone who can be witty and fun and selfless. Someone who could have gone missing. Someone else chose to make Emia a monster, and Emia tried it, spat it out, and said "no".

When she came back to us, she came back dragging a friend behind her. Her own Emia. The disease comes in countless varieties. Some produce beard-like fur from the backs of their wrists, and conical claws that can cut glass. Some have brains which ceaselessly think, and torture them with endless counting and categorization. This one would flinch away if you made eye contact with him, and would suffer sunburns in a matter of minutes. The vrykolakas are burdened with the knowledge that they can become the abuser if they are not diligent, but they need patience as much as they need blood. The world is a complex mess of give and take to them. For those who for whatever reason cannot bring themselves to take, we'll be waiting.

I zone back in as she bandages my arm. These blood-takings are often her excuse to cook, and I smell some form of bread cooking in my house. She thinks I don't pay attention to her when I'm slowly regaining my composure, but I see it all. I see the effort that goes into her attitude, her appearance of normalcy. She must be a good example for the others. That's what brought her back home, I think. She hasn't felt hope in herself for almost a year, but I don't think she minds. She can place her hope in others instead. She can do it right this time. As our little group stretches out, and others trickle in, I can't help but notice and accept...

I will be leader in name only.

>!Written about my experience with PTSD!<

Quick question; did you think of the name “Albendalf” by combining the names Albus and Gandalf?

This is amazing. I hope you add more to this because that could be amazing. Dragon Fantasy Lovestory is amazing

saving this for later

Something crawled under my skin like wool against an open wound when I touched him. The only way to help it is to engulf him. I must make him love me

Catherine also has between 2 and 7 cats and has cat ear headphones for when she streams on Twitch on the weekends.

Either that or the beanie she always wears to work is hiding the fact she actually has cat ears.

An ancient hero is brought back to life by a dark god to serve their army. As a precaution against their goodness, the memories were erased. The love interest of his previous life leads the forces of good.