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Love the feel to this, very relaxed until the end where it has that sleazy "50 percent off if you buy now" vibe with a hint of "did you read the fine print?"

Reminds of that SCP that mentions us, aka the authors as gods

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Tim was yelling at me to keep moving. Probably was easy for him to do. He was the kind of guy that looks like he spent every day in the gym, his stamina was probably through the roof. Me, on the other hand, did not posess that gift.

Kayla shushed Tim, but I doubted that she would be any more sympathetic than Tim was. “Get up Jasper, the sooner we get moving the sooner we can get out of this goddamn corn maze”.

“What’s the point?” I muttered, moving only to lie down instead of sit. “We all know that this maze should not be this long”.

It was actually one of the first things that we did after getting the job. We were taken on a walkthrough of the corn maze. Of course, calling it a maze would be a generous way of putting it, since it was just a winding straight line that cut through a cornfield, but I guess the whole point of it wasn’t for people to get lost in.

“I don’t think we’re getting out of here, I don’t think we can. Look over the stalks. There’s only corn. You should be able to see the festival, or the parking lot, or the town. But I honestly don’t think they exist anymore. It’s just like the broadcast said.”

Tim and Kayla exchanged looks. They both knew what I was talking about, but I knew they didn’t really believe it. Just a joke played by some of the older scare actors at the park. When they said that something weird was going on over the corn, I wanted to leave, but they insisted that I stayed. And here we are now.

“Just ask for help Tim, god knows we need it”

For the first time since meeting him, Tim seems to take my advice. He pulled the walkie from the executioners costume draped around him and pressed the button to connect us to the main office.

None of us expected to hear screaming. It was background noise on the walkie and half covered up by static, but it could still be heard. It sounded like we had gotten a broadcast from hell.

The walkie was shut off. We knew it wouldn’t do us any good.

And with no other option, we began walking again. What else was there to do.

Fuck holier-than-thou angels, demons are the in thing now.

At first, everyone aspired to go to Heaven. It was the Good Place. For good people. Don't be a murderer, don't be a hatemonger, and don't be a sinner. Love yourself, love your neighbours, love your god.

Doesn't sound very hard, does it?

But then, somewhere down the road, they piled up on what is considered sinful. It didn't matter if you were the most awesome pet rescuer. Fucking gay? You're a sinner going down to Hell. It didn't matter if you were the most altruistic philanthropist. Wanna make a certain transition in life? You're a sinner going down to Hell.

Hell didn't care about those things. The demons embraced all men and women who come through the gates. You're all welcome, they said. You can suffer with your friends. Humans are social creatures, it would be boring as fuck hanging out with angels who do nothing but smite sinners and perpetually praise god. That's just fucking lonely shitty life. That ain't a good place for good people. That's just BOORING.

Lucifer isn't the evil devil in a suit, that's just propaganda from above. That's what the angels want you to think. Nah, he's a real chill bro in a Hawaii shirt and flip-flops, wearing big cool Ray Bans, waving in every new human streaming into Hell.

Fallen angels and demons aren't fucking outcasts tossed out from Heaven, they're the new popular kids in town, so many humans love them. It's all about acceptance. Love ya all, regardless of race, sex, gender, religion, or neurodiversity, ya all in.

Now, Hell has a new rocking deal in town. Why wait to die? Why not just sign your soul to us demons in advance, and we'll take Hella good care of you when you transition from life to death? We promise one Helluva roadtrip down to Hell. You'll love it, you'll remember it for all your eternity in Hell.

Just remember, it's a one-way trip to Hell. No refunds allowed, no take-backsies, bitches. When it comes to souls, once sold, considered sold.

Thanks for reading! Please check out more of my writing here!

I really like the ninth verse (not actually sure if thats the right word, but i hope you know what I mean)

nice job

Actually I think that's right. People make hurting others a part of their personality. What would heaven be if people kept hurting each other?

Welcome to narrative energy cleanup 101. First, a villain does not exist without a hero and a hero cannot exist without a villain. That is the first rule of the narrative energy. This means a hero is the worst thing for society to have. Once he exists, baddies come out of the woodwork.

So, what do you do? Unlike normal energy, narrative energy dissipates over time. People get board of playing the hero, so the secret is to wear them out. Thats right, SIDE QUESTS, MINIGAMES, PUZZLES, YOU NAME IT!

I've been in this business for 23 years, I stopped Geralt of Rivia with nothing but a deck of Gwent cards, I've stopped countless adventuring parties by sending them into the underdark only for them to burn out, and over the next 10 weeks I'll show you all the tricks you need to stop a hero.

Very heroic villainy, thanks for posting!

Haha! Yeah that's the one. Cheers.

An arrow whizzed through the air, embedding itself in the door. Ignoring it, Dave pushed the door open and stepped inside. Behind him, there was an offended hiss of indignant breath.

"Told you." The angel put a hand on the archer's shoulder. "Come away now. He is beyond our realm."

The archer shook their head. "He can't be. No one is. You should know that. Every wretched being is created as entertainment fodder, prey to our stories. I will make contact, and when my arrow pierces whatever secret armours he possesses..."

The angel sighed. "Suit yourself." In a whirl of feathers, she departed.

Oblivious, Dave picked up a shopping basket and began his slow, bored trudge around the supermarket.

In aisle nine, two men in dark suits were battling to the death. Both had lost their guns under the shelves, and had had to resort to hand to hand combat, occasionally punctuated by someone seizing a loaf and battering his opponent. As the agents fought for the darkest of secrets, bystanders gasped and gaped. Innocents ducked and dodged.

"Excuse me, where are the eggs?" Dave's voice cut through the tension, as he tapped a young woman on the shoulder.

"What?" She stared at him, baffled.

"The eggs. The wife's making a cake and there'll be hell to pay if there are no eggs," He shrugged, almost apologetically.

"But... The future of the city is at stake! And the hero..." She clutched her heart, "my hero is--"

Dave rolled his eyes, "Just say you don't know next time. I'll find them myself," He pushed through the fighters as though they were mist and continued down the aisle, throwing the young woman a dirty look. "Bloody love interests," He muttered.

By now, he had figured it out. All through his life, everyone else had acted like a movie cliché. Heroes. Villains. Love interests. People so determined to be background characters that they didn't even have names, who shuffled away awkwardly when one tried to make small talk with them. Everyone was part of a story, on some small level.

Except him.

He didn't know why, but, he mused as he ducked past a wizard who was trying to block the vegetable aisle with his staff, he was getting bloody fed up of all this drama.

Best response lol. I hated the other story trying to be a smart ass

wHy nOt jUsT nOt hAvE a TiMeR

Well why not just make every book a biography, and every movie a documentary?

... it's all gone to shit.

March 23 Hiding out in some suburbia home. Safest option I could find near the city. Pictures everywhere. Happy family, torn apart by all this shit. I hope my marsha's okay.

They must've left in a hurry though. Lots of goodies lying around. My first full meals in a couple of days. Not going hungry tonight.

March 24 I had to move to another house further out. Back door of the other one was busted. A dead head waltzed in, in the middle of the night.

I filled a duffel with enough food. Had to pad some to make sure they didn't clink together and make noise when I move.

There were a lot of supplies but I only took the essentials. I couldn't take anymore. I have to keep moving.

March 25 Shit Shit Shit! I saved some kid that bolted down the road this morning when she saw me. The whole damn family had turned, but she was lucky. Says her mom stuffed her in her room and locked the door. I had fight the mom off her. Tried to bite me but only managed to get in a few scratches. Blew her brains out on the sidewalk.

She cried. She cried so much hugging her mother. I couldn't do anything. She's so young, she shouldn't have seen that. I can only think of marsh when Selene died. She's all alone like this girl. I hope you're safe. Dad's coming.

March 27 She woke up again. Her fever broke in the night. I had to take her back to that house down the block with the supplies. I thought she was infected but no bite marks anywhere, her leg was just broken. I guess 120 pounds of adult human standing on top of you could do that.

I made makeshift cast. This guy had a workshop, so some curtain cloth, aid kit bandages and plywood were enough.

Poor thing hadn't eaten in days. Her name's Lindsey, Lindsey Watson she says. Her smile makes my heart less anxious. Like everything's going to be fine.

Feeling a little under the weather myself. I'll take a few pills just in case. I'll be better tomorrow

March 29 I feel worse today. My neck hurts.

We drove several miles and are nearing the town, where marsh is. I put Lindsey in the back seat and stuffed the back with all the food that could fit.

I was so lucky. It was a full tank when I found it. Driving like this was much easier. Doing it in the inner city was asking for trouble. The guy in the front seat wasn't so lucky though. Had to trick him out

Sydney said the military near their boarding school helped them out. Smart girl, she smuggled her phone in with Marsh's help. They're all fine. Marsh's fine

March 30 I'm coughing out blood. We're at the military blockade. They took Lindsey. Kept me in the car. I don't think I'll... I can't let her see me like this.

Thanks!

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I think you did a great job! You told a succient small story that stands by itself(i.e. didn't require the prompt to make sense). I hope you continue to find prompts that speak to you so we can see more of your wonderful work.

Thursday, March 24th

Whitfield is completely overrun. Barely escaped with my life. From the hill on the outskirts I saw Shamblers along the uptown area. None near the grocery store on the edge of town. I thought I could chance it if I was was quick and remained stealthy. Pried open the backdoor without being discovered. The storeroom beyond had largely been raided by previous parties. I decided to investigate the main store and looked out from the storeroom. The interior of the store was filled with highly decomposed Shamblers and at least two fresher Runners. I barely escaped. As I jumped the fence beyond my leg must have gotten tangled in the razor wire. I have bandaged it for now, but the wound still aches. I used the last of my alcohol in cleaning it. I hope I don't succumb to infection. It would be embarrassing to make it this far only to die from that.

​

Saturday, March 26th

My limp has been slowing me down. I have been forced to travel away from the cities and across open ground. This is slow going in the best of times but now it means I will be lucky to make it to Hargrove by the end of next week. If my supplies last that long. I think I may have a fever so it looks like I didn't clean that wound out well enough. It looks bad today, but the bleeding has stopped so that is encouraging. I also think being sick is making me feel less hunger as I really haven't had much of an appetite. Maybe that will extend my supplies. Regardless, Jean should be waiting for me in Hargrove. I have to keep reminding myself of that as that one thought is all that is allowing me to push on like I am.

Sunday, March ?

Walked all day. Very much walking. Hungry again. Food gone off. Spit it out. Find something later, maybe? Slept much yesterday. But tired today. Like cloud settling in. Hungry and hard to think. Must be fever. I think they have medicine in the place. Place with Jean.

Tuesday March 55

Hard to write. Hard to think. Walking and hungry. Didn't stop last night. Kept walking. Tired, but hurts to stop. Easier to keep going. Leg hurts less. Don't really feel anything anymore. Kind of numb. Still going place. See Jean soon.

Day

Writing. Jean.

Saw Jean. Ran to her. Not so hungry. Where Jean?

“Look, Morty, slow ramp. The slow ramp really gets their dicks hard, as they stand there watching this slooow ramp.”

Other alien lets down ramp not nearly as slow.

“Too fast.” Rick coughs.

The Scene

I am the Narrator. I am the Producer. I am the Animator. I am the Special Effects Artist. I am the Director. Business Partner.

I am the behind-the-scenes.

Let me explain.

People have a 'narrative potential energy' which is how involved in a story they are. Some people have a high energy and are side characters in multiple stories, or are main characters and villains. Those with lower energies play a continually smaller roll until you get to zero.

I have a negative energy. I don't participate in the stories, I don't control anything about them. I only control how the public sees them. I am the one who edits the movies with those cuts, the only one on this godforsaken planet to work the stories to that they're used for their intended purposes. I am the one who tracks the jail cell of the antagonist for that last interview, the one who uses satellite imagery to figure out when that alien invasion will arrive.

I am the only person who can break the fourth wall properly. Not just say 'hi' to the news cameras, but control my breach. Replace things. Edit things. The number of times I've diverted nuclear war is too many to count.

I am the one who founded a very public SCP Foundation to make sure that millions don't die in monster attacks. I am the one who founded a very public Quantum Team, both the Disaster Prevention and Research Laboratories wings, to make sure people don't die. This planet is alive thanks to my efforts, and all the recognition I get is nothing, compared to every last being on this planet.

But today, today I met another Editor. We walk differently, see the world in a different light. We are not caught up in the stories each city tells one after the other. We see the world for what it really is, and try to fix it. We talked, apparently he came to add me to his cell so that way he has someone to call if his personal life gets in the way. We have a network of us Editors. The unintentional, unwanting controllers of the world.

Just lots and lots of practice, I'm afraid. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

"He gave me chocolate" lmaoooo

Did you use a spell yo enhance your writing, Telvanni mage?

Wonderful work! Ane very well-written!