This prompt alone had me cracking up.

I'd be interested. But I'm also ok if you want to do something else. Your story, your time. It's up to you, not redditers.

Thank you! I grappled a bit with the shape of this story, but I really loved the prompt and wanted to make this sort of tragic tale of life in a dog-eat-dog society. One of the most compelling tales is that of the heart in conflict with itself, after all.

Thank you. I might expand on it later, if people are interested.

I like that one a lot. Thanks for writing it and sharing it.

This is a fantastic short. I loved every second of it, and it was the sort of idea that had popped into my head when I made this prompt. Very well done!

“Come on, Cerbe!”

A sharp trio of loud barks answered the woman’s call, along with the pounding of heavy paws and rapid panting.

The speaker, a beautiful young woman with flowers woven into her dark hair and summery dress, turned back as a massive brown thing leaped over her head, tripped over its gigantic paws, and skidded into the ground.

She laughed as the. . . dog? What kind of dog had three heads? bounced back up and licked her face with its massive tongues. She reached up and scratched the middle head behind the ears. The left head growled at the middle, and the dog’s (dogs’?) owner gave it the same treatment. Then she pushed the other heads aside to pet the smallest, white where the others were brown with white spots. “Don’t be mean to your little brother,” she scolded the other heads, who lowered in shame, “He deserves love just as much as you do.

“Now!” She stepped back, smiling, and took off at a jog, the beast lumbering on behind her. “We have to be back home by six, all right? There’s plenty of time to go to the dog park, isn’t there?”

A trio of happy barks answered her question.

No

This is amazing! "'turns out that was the normal punishment for sneaking out at night' ron laughs giddily" got me.

This is great!

Man tripa his way into being deified, completely on accident.

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

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* 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

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 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.

This one might take me a bit, because I don’t know a whole lot about Anoriginal or Egyptian, but I will do it.

(Sorry for formatting, I’m on mobile. Also this had to be written twice, because. . . Reddit.)

“You want me to. . . what?”

Therion’s voice cracked, his eyes wide with fear, but the king clicked his tongue.

“Now, now, hero,” he chastised, a smirk crossing his face; it looked more like a benevolent smile to anyone who didn’t know the threat veiled behind it, but Therion’s heart pummelled his ribcage as the king he didn’t even know the name of continued, “Most men your age would kill for this kind of chance! The thrill if adventure, isn’t that what young adventurers like you live for?”

I’m not an adventurer and you know it, Therion thought, but the spear at his side made it clear what would happen if he said that. ‘For your protection,’ the king had declared, ‘so the commonfolk don’t trample you in their excitement. You’re the hero who will save them, after all!’

The nobles present had laughed at his joke, many muttering something like, “Foolish peasants”.

All but the sorrowful, golden-eyed girl, who just looked sadder with each word the king spoke. The princess, he knew, from the elegant dress and veil she wore. Bright gold, probably to complement her beautiful eyes.

Helios’ eyes, the sun’s eyes.

He tried not to think about the last woman he’d seen with such eyes. She was happy now, yes, with a loving -if drunken, but what else did he expect from his uncle?- husband, but before. . .

He did not think of Crete. He especially did not think of a cruel, greedy king named Minos, and a sad, starving beast trapped in a labyrinth.

The king he didn’t even know the name of was speaking again, so he forced himself to listen.

“. . . of course, you’ll need proper weapons. A sword, yes, and a shield-“

“My bow, milord,” he forced himself to say before he could think better of it.

The king-captor raised an eyebrow. “That twig we found you with?”

That twig was a gift from the goddess Artemis, he didn’t say. Instead, “It’s served me well for as long as I can remember.”

The king frowned, but waved a hand. “Yes, bring the young adventurer his bow,” he ordered a page, who bowed and scurried off. “Now, for your tasks!

“You must bring me the Gorgon Medusa, alive,” he began, a gleam in his blue eyes.

He’s insane. No one could do that! Therion thought, dismayed. Not even Father! Maybe not even Mother!

“One of my men had an encounter with it,” he continued, nodding towards the guard at Therion’s left, the man with the sword. “He’ll lead you to its last known location. After that, they will wait for your return.”

And make sure you don’t try to run, he didn’t have to say out loud.

“Next, you will fetch me a leprechaun’s gold,” the king declared. “From the end of Iris’ rainbow. And the leprechaun, while you’re at it.

“And finally,” he added, smiling slightly, “you’re a hunter, correct? Surely you can bring down the Golden Stag, then. Bring me these three things, and I will give you the hand of my most beautiful daughter, and half my current riches.”

Therion had to give the king a bit of credit. He was smarter than he looked. No one could bring down the Golden Stag, save Artemis herself.

Therion had to fight back a smirk of his own. Clever. But not clever enough.

“I accept your task, O Great King,” Therion declared. He accepted his bow and quiver from the page.

He looked back to the sad princess.

She looked back, sorrow filling her soulful golden eyes with tears. She didn’t want another “suitor”, another boy -because Therion was just a boy himself, he knew that, and the other “suitors” couldn’t’ve been much older than he was.

I will return, he promised her silently. I will return, and we will both be free.

For no one but the only son of Artemis and Orion truly stood a chance against these trials.

Therion forced himself not to smile.

Tricking the trickster.

Persephone takes Cerberus for a walk

Lol, I love the “Ancient Codices” series, all the way from Coliseum and Bladedescent to Underworld and Heavenedge. Still waiting for The Ancient Codices 6 though.

Gonna replay Dawnstorm until it comes out I guess.

Okay, just one more thing I was thinking of. I might be wrong, but didn't Frodo have some kind of vision of the tower of something after putting on the ring?

If so, for Dumbledore there's a decently easy way to see others memories. If not, ignore what I just said lmao

Yesss :)

Oh, a fellow perl programmer

Darkness magic is a valuable tool. It can be used to conceal things without irritating the lungs like smoke does. While it could certainly be used in military applications as a replacement for a smoke screen, I mostly use it to hide before surprise parties. It can also keep things cool on a sunny day. I would be lying if I said I did not occasionally cloak a tub of ice cream in darkness to keep it nice and cold on a hot summer day. Since darkness is a subset of the "Destroy Energy" discipline of magic, it pairs easily with magic that outright negates thermal energy, allowing a spellcaster to keep machines running cool and chill drinks to near freezing temperatures in a snap.

So, why were the Inquisitors hoisting me by my collar and barking accusations at me? Well...

"You are in big trouble now, heretic!" a slender woman in a black robe hissed. She pulled me close and I could smell the garlic on her breath. "The Grand Inquisitor will hang you dead!"

"For what?"

"Dark magic... Summoning demons and the lot, I guess," said the other Inquisitor, a broad-shouldered man with slick black hair. He had a nonchalant demeanor, betraying either a lack of enthusiasm or a lack of understanding of his work. "Easy on the accused, Mally. He might slip out of our grasp if you keep tugging him like that."

"Oh, and you'd like that, you big loaf! If only your faith was as strong as your body!" Mally's claws dug into my collar tighter than before.

"I think I understand what's going on here..." I said.

Mally gripped harder and said, "You aren't going to find a way out of this."

They dragged me down the hall to a red door. When we reached it, Mally pushed me into her colleague's arms and produced a key from her robes. After fidgeting with the aged lock, she swung the door open and I felt her colleague's large hands give me a push into the dark room. Falling on my hands and knees, my eyes struggled to make out what this room was supposed to be.

Ker-chunk!

With a flip of a switch, my eyes were flooded with light. The electric lights hummed revealing an octagonal room with loaded bookshelves against seven walls and one wall vacant to allow for an entrance. A table and four chairs sat in the middle of the room.

"The College allowed us to use this room for your questioning." Mally sounded disappointed, as if she asked for a more dramatic venue. She walked around the table with slow and methodical steps. "Here, we shall be your judge and jury. If you try to escape, we will also be your executioners."

I got up off my knees and brushed the dust off. "I've been with Kursott's College for eight years and I've never seen this room before... What is this place?"

"Fittingly enough, it is where they keep their questionable texts. After we are done with you, I will decide what in this library must be burned. Kill two birds with one stone while I'm here, you see..." She looked over my shoulder and barked angrily, "Hyle! Put down that book! Your heathen mind is too easily tempted!" I turned to face the other inquisitor who gave a frustrated look at Mally. He held the aged crimson book gently in his large hands, like he was holding a puppy.

"Why do you get to read all the wicked books? Sometimes I think you just burn books because you don't understand them..."

Mally slammed her fist against the table, "If the Grand Inquisitor heard that, you'd lose your tongue! Must I try two heretics tonight?"

Hyle gave a deep, defeated sigh, put the book back on the shelf, and slowly walked around the table. Hyle and Mally sat down in the chairs on their side of the table.

"Sit!" Mally barked. I obeyed, pulling a chair opposite of the two inquisitors.

Mally reached under the table and produced a thick folder that slapped hard against the table. She flicked it open and read the first page. "Therus, Alton, accused of practicing the dark arts. Instructor at Kursott of eight years. No wife, no children, two living parents, one sister. No criminal record, no known aliases." She looked up at me. "Does this sound correct?"

"Yes."

"Alright, how do you plead?"

"What?"

"Guilty or not guilty?" If looks could kill, her face would be anthrax.

"Well, what am I being accused of exactly? I work with darkness but I do not practice 'dark' magic."

In a flash, she threw her body over the table grabbed me by the hair and whacked my head against the table. She let go and sat back down with a look of intense and frenzied anger. A drop of blood ran down my lips. Her lips peeled back to show her clenched teeth.

"No semantics! Guilty or not guilty!"

"Not guilty!"

"Hyle! Mr. Therus wants to do this the hard way!" She looked at him with an excited look, which Hyle did not return back to her. Hyle instead stared blankly at me with a look of what could either be a look of pity or a look of confusion.

Hyle put a single finger on the folder and slid it across the table to be right in front of him. The excitement on Mally's face twisted back into anger. Hyle quickly flicked through the folder, gently humming and occasionally raising an eyebrow.

"Let's talk about your courses, Mr. Therus," said Hyle, eyes fixed on the files within the folder. "Course titles include, Intro to Darkness, Advanced Darkness, and Art of Obfuscation. Tell us about those."

Mally's face was twisted into a look of pure frustration. Her eyes slowly panned from Hyle to me and they rested upon me heavily. Two burning stars of hatred and sadism disguised as piety.

"I teach courses about darkness. Darkness, as in the absence of light, not the dark arts."

Hyle nodded, not looking up from the files or saying anything.

"So, no summoning demons," I clarified.

"Right, right," Hyle nodded. He still didn't look up.

"Hyle! What. Are. You. Doing?"

"Look, if you want to nearly strangle someone to death and pass it off as service to the holy Primary, you can do it on your own time." Hyle lifted his head and looked at her. "We've been graciously allowed by the College to sort this out, so therefore we are here as guests. You strangling Mr. Therus here would be ill-advised."

Mally groaned. "They only allowed us to investigate him because they expected us to be satisfied with the results and not come back for more. This whole college is lousy with heretics, isn't it, Mr. Therus?"

"Uh, no?"

"Give me the names of four heretics and you will prove your innocence," Mally said as her scowl turned into a broad sadistic grin.

"I think we are done here," Hyle said. He shut the folder and stood up from his chair. Mally's claws dug into his black robe.

"We aren't done here, Hyle!" Her face was desperate.

"I say we are done. One Inquisitor's hunch does not make a case and I find this evidence inconclusive."

Mally screamed, threw her hands up into the air and stormed out of the room. The screams echoed though the hallways, but slowly faded to a distant, enraged whimper. Hyle gave a sigh of relief and leaned forward. "Always good to provide a service for a brother," he whispered.

"What?"

"C'mon, brother. Hail the Great Abyssal King," Hyle said with a grin.

"I'm sorry, I think you must be confused."

Hyle's smile disappeared. His eyes widened with realization. "Oh, uh. Well, uh, have a good day and may the Primary's blessings be upon you."

He stood up and walked out swiftly. Leaving me alone to wonder what the hell just happened. I turned to look at the aged crimson book that Hyle put back on the shelf and began to wonder...

Sophia's eyes pierced my very soul. Her grin had long since faded; it must have sunk in that the chains holding her were not part of some devious game I was playing, nor was it any kind of pretense from anyone who might catch a glimpse of us.

"What is this?" she asked. "Why am I here?"

I stiffened my face, keeping my expression flat. "You are here because you are a prisoner of Infernia. You have threatened the safety of my people--"

The chains clinked as she threw herself at me. "I never once so much as put a hand on my blade, and you know it!" Sophia's voice lowered into an accusing hiss. I turned away so she didn't see me wince, but her voice suggested she knew. "If I wanted that, I had you to myself so many times."

Of course I remembered that. Even now, I could feel her soft lips pressed to mine, her firm embrace as she held me, the weight of her sleeping head on my chest... As I stepped toward the window, the cold metal of the key shifted in my pocket and pressed against my thigh, as if to tempt me with how easy it would be to free her.

But being a queen is never easy. That was the first thing my mother taught me, years ago as an impling. It was also the last thing, when she locked us in this very chamber.

"You want this crown? Then you're going to have to take it from my cold, dead hands!"

"No, Mother!" I cried. The sword felt as heavy as the first time I wielded it, when Mother started training me. We had sparred, my flaws and weaknesses being first pointed out, then exploited, then corrected, all to prepare me to take the crown.

I didn't even want it. But when she charged me, instinct kicked in, and when I awakened from my rage, my sword was in her chest. "That's... my girl," she choked out. Her head fell limp.

She loved me, and she died for it. The rules of demonkind are brutal and cruel. Survival at the top, even more so.

I looked down at the commoners below me, and I gathered my resolve. I knew what I must do.

As soon as I unlocked her chains, she sprang upon me, not in vengeance, but wrapping me up in a tight embrace, burying her head in my chest. I closed my eyes, retreating my mind to somewhere distant, a misty, foggy isle of naught but me and the ferocious, uncaring sea.

Peeling us apart, I made my way over to the secret compartment in the wall, pressing the stone that would peel the wall back to reveal two swords. I took the one still with blood on it, uncleaned from my last use of it, tossing the other to her.

"In these lands, there is only one way to resolve a matter like this."

"No..." she whimpered. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

"Draw!" I hissed, taking a wide swing at her. She lifted the sword, blocking my strike.

"Please..."

"Sophia Everguard, you have been charged with the crime of theft against the Queen of Infernia." I pointed my sword at her chest.

"What? I have never wronged you, my--"

"Enough!" The corners of my vision went red, and I closed my eyes again. No, I could not let the rage win. For this to mean something, I had to be clear of mind. Once again, I pictured that island and stood on the rocky shores beneath the lighthouse. Just the waves and me.

I charged her, striking fiercely. She blocked each one, though her breathing grew ragged. "Please, Mara... I have done nothing to you!"

"You have done everything to me!" I shrieked. My claws dug into the palms of my hands from how tightly I gripped the hilt. I slashed at her, once again being blocked as our swords dragged.

"What have I done but love you?" she sobbed.

I stabbed, sliding my sword past her defense. It found its purchase in her chest, drawing the air from her lungs.

I lowered my voice, leaning in until our faces were close, like they often had been before. "Don't you see? That's precisely it. I must do this because I love you, because love only gets you killed out here." I pressed my hands against the crossguard, burying the blade deeper into her chest. "I find you... guilty... of stealing the Queen's heart." When the blade could go no deeper, striking the stone wall, I drew it back, letting her fall forward onto me. I knelt and held her as she died, resting her head in my lap.

"Sleep now..." I whispered. "Somewhere far from here."

When it was done, I let her slide off my lap and to the floor. Looking down at my bloodied hands, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and dragged them across my face, streaking my purple cheeks with red. I then cut off her head, carrying it with me up the stairs and to the streets.

I found the archdemons huddled outside the tower, clearly startling them. Swinging it by the hair, I tossed the head, rolling it to their feet. They stared at me, agape and wide-eyed.

"I am not afraid to strike down anyone. Challenge me again, and it will be your head next."

With that, I retreated to my chamber, feeling drained. I locked the door, collapsing onto the bed, and I wept, just like the scared teen standing over her mother.

“Good morning” said the elderly woman.

“Uh..good morning.” Said the angst teen.

The teen, Ross, looked over at her between the black hair obscuring his eyes. The lady was smiling at him. Her eyes literally sparkling.

Ross looks away and eyes his formerly white PF flyers, now scribbled with upside down crosses, (admittedly in poor taste) a nazi symbol and various other insignia. He thumbs the bottle of aspirin in his coat pocket.

“What’s your name?” The lady says.

“Hey lady. I don’t want to talk I just want to sit here and THINK.” He snaps. This must surely make the lady leave him alone. But no, she speaks again “My names Evelyn. You look just like my grandson.”

Ross remains quiet. Evelyn still staring at him he presumes. Ross thinks ‘I’m gonna punch this lady if she doesn’t stop fucking talking to me.’

“Is your name Justin?”

He looks at her at this, snapping his glare in her direction. “No my names not JUSTIN.”

“You look like my grandson Justin.” She says again. This time she sits back and kind of scoots into the bench seemingly getting comfortable for a long wait. She now looks straight ahead and is watching two squirrels chase and twist their way up a tree.

Ross, not Justin, is looking at her with a disgusted and confused look on his face. He looks at what she is looking at and himself settles back into the bench. Now sitting up straight instead watching the squirrels dance instead of hunching over staring at his offensive shoes.

A few minutes go by. Ross thumbing the bottle of aspirin, the pills every so often making a rattling noise a full bottle of pills make. Evelyn seems to not hear what he has hidden in his pocket. What he has hidden in his mind.

“Nature is something.” She says.

Ross takes a sigh. “Yeah. I guess it is.” His mind clearing up from the red haze that filled it’s every chasm minutes earlier.

“My grandson Justin would’ve loved watching these squirrels go nuts.” She smiles (not noticing the pun she just made which her grandson also would’ve gotten a good laugh from) her scaly, wrinkled hands lying crossed on her lap. Ross takes notice that she is wearing all black, like him. Except she doesn’t look like a punk like me, he thinks.

“What happened to him?” Ross asks, his curiosity taking over. He forgets the bottle of pills in his pocket.

A tear rolls down her eye.

“The world just isn’t as beautiful without the people that make it beautiful. What’s a world without the ones you love?” She speaks, her voice quivering.

This hits Ross. He actually came to this bench to clear his mind before swallowing over 10,000 milligrams of aspirin.

“If Justin knew how much his grandmother loved him, maybe he wouldn’t ‘ve…” her voice trails off.

Ross thinks about his grandmother who looks very much like Evelyn. His “guardian” is what the school system calls her. How she would feel if he killed himself. Would she be sitting on this same bench crying to some stranger?

Ross stands up. He gives Evelyn a big hug (not even caring if any of his “punk” buddies see him). “I’m sorry” Ross says.

He feels her shaking. She’s taking Deep breaths and crying into the shoulder of his black hoodie with a Rams skull patch on the chest.

“Justin” she mutters between breaths.

Ross releases her and stands looking at her, he doesn’t bother brushing the hair out of his eyes because he now has tears to hide. He says to her “I have to go now.”

Evelyn looks up at him through teary eyes and says “Thank you young man. It’s people like you who make this world beautiful.”

Ross’s brain, heart and lungs choke up at this. He thinks about his grandmother. He turns and begins to jog toward his house. He stops suddenly when he notices the loud rattling of pills in his pocket. He turns on a dime and jogs back, reaches into his jeans pocket and tosses the bottle of pills and tosses them into the trash can seated beside Evelyn.

He looks at her and smiles. She smiles back. A remnant of a tear she forgot to wipe hanging just below her cheek.

Ross turns once again and jogs home.

Human... Let's go drive cars again. Bitchin'.

Very well done. I can picture Ron saying every word of this. And using the voiceover was an excellent idea.

[removed]