Recent comments in /f/WritingPrompts
designbat t1_jdqtjs9 wrote
Reply to comment by NextEstablishment856 in [WP]As the overnight caretaker at the cemetery, you'd befriended the ghost of a young girl staying there. Tonight she seems distraught. Her killer visited her grave today. by sticky-pete
Great story. I appreciate your characterization of the ghost with not one unneeded detail. Your writing is both suspenseful and succinct.
Smewroo t1_jdqt7ua wrote
Ataraxidermist t1_jdqt547 wrote
Reply to [WP] For 2 years now you've woken up every day with a different face. Every night your body changes: age, sex, ethnicity, height... Your memories, brain, clothes, house stay the same. Only your appearance changes. Living like this is hell. by OmegaT6
Amalgam - Part 1 of 3
Brenda's nipples were so hard they could cut through paper. On bad days, they could cut through tree bark. She wore only the most expansive sport shirts, lesser fabric did not survive a day. This was made more complicated by her being homeless and penniless, making buying clothes a problematic prospect. As luck would have it, she had no moral qualms about petty thievery and spent her idle days breaking and entering into various homes and shops for her daily needs.
Pick this shop, for instance. It is night, it is protected by an alarm, it is located in a calm city in the Sicilian countryside. The window breaks, the alarm goes off. Lights in the distance, curious faces gazing through the windows. When the police comes, Brenda is long gone, dozens of kilograms heavier, shock-waves going up and down her fat belly with every step of her absurd escape.
Officers shook their heads, as did the few witnesses who had taken videos. It was the first time they experienced a chocolate shop being broken into for the sole purpose of drinking the chocolate fountain empty. The thief would die from a bursting stomach, that's for sure.
Brenda lost herself in a meadow under the moonlight. Damn videos, they made the world go hasty. She lay down, plucked some grass to chew onto. She closed her eyes.
The veins traced a map, ribs, armpits and breasts a geography to rise and lower with the tide of age. With wisdom came understanding of one's bodily picture. With experience came the patience to let the flesh's earth heal. And beyond, far beyond the limits of an everyday human life, came the key to unlock the flesh. Brenda felt no veins to speak of. Neurons, blood and gray matter were a constellation of stars, a graph to pick a shining point and displace. One by one, she moved the stars of her world.
The mask that was Brenda died that night.
In the meadow stood Brad. A blond, blue-eyed, and utterly gorgeous athlete who could effortlessly win regional bodybuilding competitions and make a career as a model. And his nipples weren't so destructive anymore.
Brad traveled, and the people who spoke to him, drawn by his almost supernatural good looks, were quickly repulsed by his sheer stupidity. Brad was Australian by heart, loved surfing and tanning under the sun. It's at this point that people pointed out there was no sun this late in Autumn, that this was Italia and that Brad didn't seem to know English, that he would catch a cold, and could he please stop sunbathing naked on the concrete road? There are children about.
Men and women left Brad disappointed at how life could mix such gorgeous looks with an abyssal black hole of a brain.
Brad didn't care, he was too stupid for that. His travels took him to Gallipoli, A city bordering the sea. There was lovely promenade there, on an old high wall that once protected the Italian coastline from invaders. Today, Brad gazed over the lazy sea as he sat on a bench. The sun was hidden behind clouds, a cold breeze washed over the old stones.
When Brad tired of the sea, he observed the passerby. An old couple enjoying retirement. A hurried woman going to work. A teary young man with painted fingernails. A tide erupted from deep inside Brad, forcing him to look closer. Indeed. Painted nails, tears on his face, a t-shirt that would never keep out the cold.
Brad, not entirely looking like the homeless person that he was due to his great looks (he must have been a hippie or something), felt the need to approach the young man.
RedSkyss t1_jdqt0mm wrote
vpyr t1_jdqrymi wrote
Reply to [WP] A 13-year-old ordinary boy with a rough life must take the place of a dying superhero. by Magnum_Pig_2004
Fighting against all odd for the greater good, to improve the world and to make those who cry smile again, that is what a hero strives to be – The Green Saint
The raindrops hammered down upon the bus Justin Bell drove home from school. It had been raining for the last few days and there was no sign of it stopping as the weather turned more and more harsh as winter approached. It has been this way since the awakening a few years before.Villains and Heros emerged overnight.
Noone knew why and in the end, it did not matter.
Even with politicians trying to contain it, trying to garner favors from everybody with a calling.Humanity as it was known, ceased simply ceased to exist.
The Superheros and Megavillians out of the cinema became real.
People who could control lightning or bend water.
People who could heal wounds and turn invinsible.
Everything a human desires is a physical possibility. There is nothing thats just fantasy. It is just fantasy, for now! - The Masked Man
The young boy that sat on the bus home looked outside of the window, looking at the raindrops racing downwards. Or rather he looked through them, his gaze was blanked out and his mind somewhere else.
He did not want to go home, but he must.He did not want to go to school anymore, but he must.He did not want anymore at all.
Too deep had been the scars he collected over the years and hope for a better life had vanished long ago, when his parents died in the awakening. And it is there where his mind goes whenever he was alone. To that faithful evening.
Our duty and pleasure is to serve the people, to make their lifes better, to make earth a better place. - Krazy Kyle
Justin remembered it as if it was yesterday. Clear sky, bright moon. The cars running behind them on the street, honking and speeding around. The city buzzing. Nothing was wrong in this world.
The Bells were out to enjoy the long promised trip to the cinema. A late birthday present to Justin as the movie was not released when he turned ten. He was dressed up in his favorite superhero costume to watch the adventures of him. The white Duckling. Looking back at his former self he could only scuff.
Heros and Villains, for Justin they all had become garbage. They took his parents away.
On this day, this seemingly normal day, the three of them stood in line outside of the cinema as it happened.
And it happened so fast.
The strong are there for the weak, and the weak are there to remind us of our shortcomings. - Dreamgirl
An explosion erupted on the street the bus was driving on and shook through the windows shattering them in the process. As the driver slammed the breaks the young brownhaired boy jumped out of his seat.
This explosion, this sound. He would have recognized it no matter where he was. He hear it in his dreams. It haunted him, day and night.
He rushed to the front of the bus and saw him.
The one person responsible for everything.
Explosion
He did not need another name. Even the press staid with just a simple explanation of what he did as his name.
There he stood in a crater just a few meters away.
Laughing at the carnage he caused. His wild mane of bright red hair waveing in the hot cinderes caused by his power.
And anger began to flare up in his mind turning his vision into a jumbled mess of past and present.
His parents laying in front of him, bleeding out.The smoke coming off the cars surrounding him.
Sounds of sirens everywhere.
Justin climbed out of the front of the bus. Not feeling how the sharp glass cut deep into his flesh. Walking, ever so slowly, forward burning with hatred. Hearing his parents scream resonating in his head. Hearing his own voice in his head, begging him to kill this Human.
This Guy.
This BEING.
The Laughing of Explosion began to stop and he kneeled down. Justin could not see what or who it was, but he could hear Explosion, loud and clear.
“I finally got you. This game of hide and seek is over. I WILL RULE THIS TIME!”
“You will never rule, not as long as we-”
But the laying there would not be able to continue, as explosion rammed his foot into him and loud, agonizing screams began to resonate in the streets.
“I do not care what you think, you will die here. And I will live. Have a good end to your life. Monkey King!”, the Villain exclaimed as he slowly strode away.
As the all consuming anger of Justin drove him towards the crater he saw the Hero known as Monkey King. His legs torn off by the explosion and bleeding beyond help.
What Justin saw as well was that Monkey King saved a young child by shielding it with his own body.
Seeing Justin arrive at the crater the Heros face lit up.
“Young boy! Please, take this child. It needs medical attention!”
“How? Why?”, was all that Justin managed to say
“Because I am a Hero.” the hero who used to be known as Monkey King said.
His eyes clued to the child, crying , hurt and bloodied, but alive, as he slowly took his last breaths.
Monkey King, formerly Viktor Clark, did not anymore see how Justin Bells body began to glow. How Justin Bell turned into the next Monkey King.
--- A year later---
“Being asked the question why risk their lives to save people the Hero Monkey King replied
“Because I am a Hero”
And the Young Boy with brown hair known as Monkey King rode his magic cloud into the sky, to safe yet other people in need, Oliva McCansy for HeroNewsOne!”
gaborrero t1_jdqr3lh wrote
Reply to [WP] Your wife of 20 years sits you down for a serious talk. "Where's my husband Tyler?" she asks. You realize that your full-body disguise has started to fail. by suburbanchiwriter
Twenty years of love.
Twenty years of lies.
Till death do us part was a bold statement that assumed death was the natural end to all things. But that was a phrase that came about long after my kind had been forgotten.
My unwilling wife was a beautiful woman full of grace and poise, but the last year of our relationship had been bumpy at best. She was always headstrong and independent, challenging my thoughts and perceptions, but now, she challenged me as an individual, as a person.
When she said, "We need to talk," I felt my heart drop. I had treated her well, better than I had treated any other in any other form. But something was wrong. With her? With us? With me?
She was wearing high-waisted pale blue jeans with a light, airy plaid shirt over a white tanktop. She sat across from me at the table in our kitchen. It was a bright day outside, despite the mounting dread I felt.
As soon as I took my seat across from her, she placed her folded hands on the table. She looked me in the eyes, and the room fell quiet. Everything faded away. The alarm of the car outside going off didn't matter, nor did the cawing of the crows in the distance. I could hear her heart racing, but it wasn't like I had heard before. It was anxious, it was angry. She asked me but four words: "Where's my husband Tyler?"
I sat there, stunned. Tyler. I knew who Tyler was. I had consumed Tyler long ago, to be precise, twenty years ago. He entered my domain looking for his wedding band, and I rewarded him with infinite life through me. I took his shape, I took his ring, and emerged to find his wife before me. This man had loved his wife like no other, and over the twenty years we were together, I came to incorporate that love into myself. "Jessica..."
She repeated, getting increasingly upset, "Where's my husband Tyler?" My hand reflexively reached out for hers, but she recoiled. "Don't touch me."
The pain I hurt was magnified; it was his, and it was mine. To see her, feel her, reject me so obviously when I had given her everything, given my everything for her. "He's here. He's right here."
"For how long have you been pretending to be Tyler?" Her hands shook and she unlaced her fingers, balling her hands into fists.
"Listen to me, Jessica..."
She stood up and reached across the table, grabbing me by my shirt and scrunched her nose in utter disgust. "WHERE IS MY HUSBAND TYLER YOU FAKE?!"
"... do you want to be with him?" I asked calmly. This was the only way to save her, to save our love.
"Is he dead?"
"Not exactly."
"... yes. I want to be with Tyler. I married him and love him and want to be with him forever."
I loved her so much. I felt myself salivating. It had been such a long time...
Feather_of_a_Jay t1_jdqqv5g wrote
Reply to comment by RoyalGarbage in [WP] Due to a miskey, HR accidentally hired an orc for their newest IT replacement. However, no one has complained about Goog's work yet. by mattswritingaccount
How do they do it in Warhammer? They just believe it works, and therefore it does. Seems like a similar scenario here.
LillianIsaDo t1_jdqqrde wrote
Reply to comment by Tomato_potato_ in [WP] An agoraphobic princess is a extremely sick and tired of all knights who are breaking into her castle and trying to slay her emotional support dragon. by Prompt_Dude
Thank God Myran came back. I'm really unhappy she had to listen to that Farquaadesque knight for so long. Any chance she could learn magic to repell the knights from her door?
MikeColorado t1_jdqqmc7 wrote
Reply to comment by Tomato_potato_ in [WP] An agoraphobic princess is a extremely sick and tired of all knights who are breaking into her castle and trying to slay her emotional support dragon. by Prompt_Dude
Wow good writing, I actually felt anxious reading it, your description of the princess' feelings was excellent.
AutoModerator t1_jdqpnqk wrote
Reply to [WP] “Look, I’m only paid to patrol this mall at night, not to settle turf wars going on between the damn mannequins!” by W1ngedSentinel
Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
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stealthcake20 t1_jdqpg4p wrote
Reply to comment by Tomato_potato_ in [WP] An agoraphobic princess is a extremely sick and tired of all knights who are breaking into her castle and trying to slay her emotional support dragon. by Prompt_Dude
This is fantastic! I love it. Hopefully Myran is slowly improving the gene pool of the nobility.
ZachTheLitchKing t1_jdqoz5l wrote
Reply to [WP] “Fuck it”, said the President, as humanity stood on its last legs: “Summon Cthulhu” by Remarkable-Youth-504
<Sci-Fi>
[Established Universe: Inside Job]
"Wait, that was an option the entire time?" the President asked, looking out the White House window at the alien mothership that was trying to land on the Washington Monument. It continued to lower itself halfway down the monument and then lift back up. The President had no idea how the statue was somehow delaying the invasion but was grateful for the first time since his inauguration photo op that the massive brick waste of space existed.
"Yeah, totally," Rand said, leaning back in the chair with his feet up on the President's desk. Respect was not a language the CEO of Cognito Inc. spoke, "I mean, I'd give that thing a fifty megaton enema right now if I could find the remote. Nuke that bastard back into the Kuyper Belt. Damn waste of a nuke, locked up in that big stone penis," he grumbled.
The President pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Fuck it, summon Cthulhu."
"Way ahead of ya," Rand said, finishing sending a text message to his daughter.
On the other side of the city, way below ground at level negative-seventy-seven. Reagan Ridley's phone buzzed on the table. Yet another text from her asshole father. She wanted to ignore it, but the buzzing persisted, so she swore and checked the messages. The message spam that her dad flooded her phone with had buried the initial message so she had to scroll past a bunch of Pick up and Buzz buzz! messages.
"Whaddup Space-Jamma Mamma?" Brett, the too-handsome blank slate of a human asked, wheeling up on an office chair next to Reagan.
"My dad needs us to summon Cthulu," Reagan said, tossing her phone over her shoulder to the floor while going back to pouring her eighth cup of coffee, "Something about an alien invasion or some shit, I don't know."
"OH!" Brett said, "So that's why Independence Day is trending on Twitter," he pulled out his phone and pulled up a gif of the mothership on the monument, "I thought they were filming another sequel." His excited expression melted into a frown, "Awww, does this mean we're not getting an I.D. 3?"
"Only if God exists and is merciful," Reagan muttered, "Just go to conference room 666 and tell them Project Green...light? Green smoke? Just tell those creepy fish fucks they can do the ritual."
"Can-do boss!" Brett said, standing up with a salute.
"And wear a poncho!" Reagan called after him, not wanting Brett to follow her around smelling like fish eggs all day.
-------------------------------
r/TomesOfTheLitchKing
NextEstablishment856 t1_jdqn5uy wrote
Reply to comment by opqt in [WP] Samus Aran and Boba Fett get into a friendly competition to see who can catch the two most difficult targets in the multiverse: Carmen Sandiego and Waldo. by Rattrap2474
No idea what I just read. No idea why I read it all twice. I just... Well, there it is. I think it's set in the 40k universe. I think there is some semblance of a story in there. Yeah, yeah, a third read through shows an actual narrative. Dang, I am starting to think it's kinda brilliant. A stream of conscious train wreck. And a fitting end.
But who the heck does mac with extra mayo! There's something wrong with that.
hilfigertout t1_jdqms54 wrote
Reply to comment by AutoModerator in [WP] Samus Aran and Boba Fett get into a friendly competition to see who can catch the two most difficult targets in the multiverse: Carmen Sandiego and Waldo. by Rattrap2474
The new Smash Bros game looks wild.
opqt t1_jdqm3ed wrote
Reply to [WP] Samus Aran and Boba Fett get into a friendly competition to see who can catch the two most difficult targets in the multiverse: Carmen Sandiego and Waldo. by Rattrap2474
HELLLO MISS PIGGY OOOOOOOOOOH WHAT ANBIG STRONG MAN YOU ARE said the defunct servo critter and two military imperium officer run in "you working man get to the FRONTLINE!" it was 0900hrs and the men were getting restless GET TO THE ********* FTONTLINE YOU ANIMALS! sergeant hell over the gunfire and bomb going off but then the bad guys approach... oh wow shit said the general BOOM ITS A AIRSTRIKE TACTICAL shining and out of the tactical a nerdy guy but pretty strong from washing dishes and he has to mop the floor at the restaurant he works at and help mom take in the groceries well... he start taking the enemy 1 at a time boom kills one then the next. It's a mass of slaughter riots break out in the streets and slaughter continues. Every enemy is defeated and then a red head imperial guardess come out and say you're my hero and want to be my boyfriend? yes but i have trauma from 1,000,000 my comrade die in battle and i'm the last of my squad so she say everything will be ok you're so brave you're so strong you're just going to be my boyfriend and she cleans his room and cooked up a macaroni with extra mayo just how it's good. Goodnight idiot.
JohanPertama t1_jdqlxzt wrote
Reply to [WP] Your wife of 20 years sits you down for a serious talk. "Where's my husband Tyler?" she asks. You realize that your full-body disguise has started to fail. by suburbanchiwriter
"Where's my husband Tyler?" She accused menacingly with her eyes.
"He's gone. "
"What do you mean gone?" Her face was stone, but a creeping fear was manifest in her eyes.
"It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything."
"What have YOU DONE TO HIM?! "
The mask had been set aside.
I let go. Lost in oblivion. Dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.
"Stop trying to control everything and just let it go. He's gone. "
" Please... I can't.. not without him..."
" Hitting bottom isn’t a weekend retreat. It’s not a goddamn seminar. Stop trying to control everything and just let go! LET GO!"
She was an irreconcilable mess on the floor. Sobbing like a dirty wretch. There's no time to waste here.
I had to go.
Project MAYHEM is waiting.
AutoModerator t1_jdqlhon wrote
Reply to [WP] Samus Aran and Boba Fett get into a friendly competition to see who can catch the two most difficult targets in the multiverse: Carmen Sandiego and Waldo. by Rattrap2474
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
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faedogmotha t1_jdqhd2e wrote
Reply to comment by thoughtsthoughtof in [PM] Give me the most ridiculous sounding pair of characters you can think of, and I'll write a dramatic fight scene between them by T_Lawliet
Of course, he has a butler
NextEstablishment856 t1_jdqhb78 wrote
Reply to [WP]As the overnight caretaker at the cemetery, you'd befriended the ghost of a young girl staying there. Tonight she seems distraught. Her killer visited her grave today. by sticky-pete
"I wasn't always the caretaker here." I say it quiet, hoping she miss it, already pulling up the security footage on my phone. Not the cheap camera the city put on the gate, but the good ones I installed.
"Where were you the caretaker before?" God, I love the way kids think. I debated how to correct her, but decided not to. She wasn't entirely wrong.
"I took care of the living before. I learned how to deal with... Bad people. You don't want him coming back, right?"
"Her. No, she's scary."
Her. Now I have to ask. Women killers are a lot more like to be related to the victim. I know it's not her mother, because Mommy is buried next to her. No ghost there, sadly. "Is she someone you knew? An aunt or family friend?"
"No. Just some lady. She killed Mommy, too." Now that worries me. Her mom didn't die with little Sophie here. She went a week earlier in a house fire. No one knew it was murder.
I get the shot up. Sure enough, it's a woman in her mid-forties, wearing a simple black dress. Smiling that shark smile I know too well.
"The Pike," I whisper under my breath. Thankfully, she misses that. Also, thankfully, my old friend didn't see me. I worked hard to get out, cover my tracks, but if anyone could find me, it was her. I ask, "Did she see you?"
"No, I stayed up in the tree. I was playing hide'n'seek with Tommy and Jedediah."
I watched the clip of her leaving in a rental car. I hadn't hacked this cities traffic cams yet, hadn't needed to before, but this called for it.
"Soph," I put away my phone and kneel to match her height. "You don't need to worry. I'm going to go talk to her and make sure she knows she isn't allowed here." She still looks scared. "And I'll tell Joani and Earl about her, too. She broke the rules, so she can't come here anymore."
Sophie relaxed at that. Thankfully, she passed young enough to think that adults have some sort of magical aurhority. And she doesn't need to know about the extra work I'm going to do.
AutoModerator t1_jdqgnjt wrote
Reply to [WP] A 13-year-old ordinary boy with a rough life must take the place of a dying superhero. by Magnum_Pig_2004
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
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TheBlackestofKnights t1_jdqfkev wrote
Reply to comment by TheBlackestofKnights in [WP] You are an immortal, and a family has tried and failed to kill you for generations. In fact, it's been going on so long that you've forgotten why they initially began looking for you. by CutieBecka
She shot up and scanned the motel room. There, in the corner, sitting down and smoking a cigarette, was a man in black.
The man quietly reached for the ashtray and put out his cigarette, and then put it back in its place.
"Hello, Nadya. It's been a while."
Nadya backed into the wall, and tried to search her options for escape. The man cleared his throat.
"It's no use. You won't be going anywhere tonight."
"Who the fuck are you?!" She yelled.
The man in black cleared his throat once again, and reached for something beside him. A file, Nadya realized. He opened it and began to read.
"Nadya Sobol, born February 14th, 1930, in the Kharviv province of Ukraine, to Jakob and Anya Sobol. Happy birthday, by the way."
Nadya glanced at the bedside clock. 23:47.
"You still didn't answer my question..."
The man in black sighed, and closed the file. "To put it simply, I'm part of an organization — a family, if you will— that has been monitoring you since your arrival in the United States in 1963."
"You mean trying to kill me?" Nadya said incredulously. She was aware she was being watched, but she had not thought much of it.
I told you of the dangers of hitchhiking.
"I admit, our previous members were... Hostile, and succeeded in neutralizing you several times."
"One of them gunned me down! In broad daylight! In a public park!"
"And my superiors apologize for that. In fact, my superiors are are sorry enough to invite you a place in our organization."
Nadya glared at the man. She couldn't tell if he was joking or serious. He seemed to pick up on her uneasiness.
"I know, I know. We've given you no reason to trust us. But what I say is true. You're not the only one like yourself, you know."
"What?"
Don't listen to him.
"There are others like you. People with... Beings like whatever is inside you inside them. In fact, we have one working for us. Recently, as well. Been around since 1578. I feel you'll like him.
Nadya, he is lying.
"You're lying."
The man in black chuckled. "They're telling you that, right? What makes you think they're not lying themselves, eh?
"They wou—"
"Let me lay it to you straight. If you don't accept the offer, I'll have no choice but to attempt to terminate you. That's my orders. Now, we both know that won't keep you down for long. Even so, we already have agents tracking your every move, and I assure you, they will not be as cordial as I've been.
Please know that we're trying to give you a chance with this offer. We both know you don't have anything keeping you out here, other than prostituting yourself for a damn ride and a shitty motel room."
Nadya perked up at that. "How do you know that?"
"Like I said, we've been monitoring you. The guy who picked you up yesterday night? Well, he turned himself in earlier this afternoon. We managed to get him to tell us where he left you. And the motel clerk? Shit, I killed him for the key."
The man in black leaned back, reached within his coat pocket for a pack of cigarettes, and lit one up. "Think about it."
Nadya thought in silence, considering her options. There was truth to his words. She had been wandering for fifty three years, ever since she first died when she took Them in as Ana's dying wish.
She didn't know what to do with herself anymore. What to decide. They've grown silent too. She glanced at the clock once more. 23:57.
"What do I get out of it?"
The man in black pulled a drag of his cigarette before answering.
"You get to work alongside us, keeping the peace. Under strict observance, of course, but trust can be easily built. We will provide good shelter, food, and freedom. We will explain more."
Nadya asked Them what they thought.
Do what you think is best for you.
She closed her eyes and took a steady breath. "Fine. I'll work for you."
The man in black put out his cigarette and stood up. "That is great news. You won't regret this, I promise you. By the way, I forgot to introduce myself. Special Agent Monroe."
He held out his hand. As Nadya reached out to shake it, he grasped her hand firmly. Quicker than she could react, the man had pulled out a silver dagger and slit her throat.
She fell back onto the bed, choking and clasping her throat as her black blood gushed through her hands and onto the sheets. She glared at Monroe with betrayal in her icy blue eyes.
"I'm sorry, but this is protocol. Can't have you getting cold feet. Plus, I didn't bring the body bag for nothing..."
Nadya's vision blurred and her limbs weakened as she fought to stay alive this time. As her consciousness faded, she felt Them chastising her.
Foolishness. Your sister would've been wiser...
It was 00:00 CT on February 15th, 1996, in rural Pennsylvania when Nadya Sobol died once again, for the 33rd recorded time since 1943.
TheBlackestofKnights t1_jdqfgeu wrote
Reply to [WP] You are an immortal, and a family has tried and failed to kill you for generations. In fact, it's been going on so long that you've forgotten why they initially began looking for you. by CutieBecka
It was 03:42 CT on February 14th, 1996, in rural Pennsylvania when Nadya Sobol died once again, for the 32rd recorded time since 1943.
Her would-be murderer panicked as he realized what he had done, removing his hands from her neck. The bruises along her already pale skin did not hide what he did.
"N-no no no no." He stuttered as he quickly removed himself from her and buckled his jeans. He stumbled out of his car and paced around, cursing himself as he thought what to do next.
Eventually, he decided. He reached back into his car, attempted to cover back up Nadya's corpse with the clothes he had torn, and carried her out to a nearby ditch along the road. He uttered a quick apology before he unceremoniously heaved her into it. He started back to his car until a sudden thought had him returning back to better hide her from the road.
After he was done, he ran back to his car and hurriedly drove off.
It was later that evening when Nadya finally woke back up, slowly sitting up as she clutched her head in minor pain.
Dusk is almost upon us, young one.
Nadya looked around in a daze, a hand still holding her head. "Yeah, I can see that, Captain Obvious."
Another decade must pass before that becomes relevant.
She lazily got up and stumbled out of the ditch onto the empty road, her shirt in tatters. She didn't even have her jeans anymore. "Do you know what happened? Last night, I mean."
He ended your life, briefly.
"That cyka! I should've known he would've pulled something like that."
I did warn you of the dangers of hitchhiking, and of offering your flesh for favors.
"Shut it. What did you do? I don't see his body anywhere." Nadya raised her arms and motioned around the road.
He did no more harm than necessary.
Nadya sighed and muttered. "He was supposed to be driving me to the next town..."
She clutched her head again, the pain dimming. It was normal for her, however, after each death. The strain of regeneration took it's toll.
If it may offer you solace, there should be a motel 2 miles east.
"How do you even know that?"
There—
"Nevermind, I don't want to know. Let's get going."
Don't forget your trousers.
"What?" Nadya looked back at the ditch and saw them, bundled up with some of her other belongings. She huffed. "Finally, some decency."
Luckily, her jeans were untouched, unlike her shirt. Even more fortunately, her wad of cash was still in it, along with her jacket. She threw them on and started towards the motel, with only the voice in her head for company, and a set of eyes watching her go from afar.
Nadya slumped onto the motel bed, probably disturbing a nest of bedbugs when she did.
You've done it again.
"You've no right to judge." She said softly.
Yet I do. Have you forgotten what I am?
"That clerk was this close to calling 911. What was I supposed to do?"
Run away. You don't have to do this every time...
"Leave me alone, please. I want to be alone with my own thoughts for one second. Please."
...Very well.
Nadya laid on the bed, alone once again, for what seemed to be an hour before she stripped off her clothes and headed into the shower.
The hot water streamed down her back as she crouched in a fetal position, as black tears rolled down her face. She sobbed quietly until her tears had run dry and her sorrow bottled away.
She turned the shower off and stepped out, and faced herself in the mirror. It was her birthday today, she realized. She'd be sixty-six now.
Yet... Here she was, stuck at the age she first died at, thirteen. Her body had barely begun the awkward process of puberty, then.
Immortality... What a joke, she thought. She had thought it would have given her power, given her purpose. It was not to be. Men still preyed upon her, and she was still so utterly alone.
Nadya glared at her face with hatred. She hated her pale skin, her blonde hair, and her eyes. The same icy blue eyes as her sister. As her father...
She punched the mirror, shattering it and cutting herself in the process. Black blood seeped into the sink and onto the floor as she quickly dressed herself.
She went back to the bed, and curled in on herself under the covers, silently praying until she fell asleep.
Nadya dreamt. She dreamt of the day she had found her sister standing over their father's body.
"Ana..." She stared at her father, eyes wide with shock and fear. Anastasiya quickly grabbed her hand.
"Nadya, look at me, please look at me. We have to go. We have to go, now!"
She finally turned her gaze at her sister, and saw something within her eyes. She swallowed hesitantly.
"W-where's Vasily? Why isn't he here? Why isn't he here!?" Nadya screamed, prompting Ana to tear up. And that's when she knew. Vasily was dead, and that thing that was within him was now in Ana.
"He... Gave up his life for you, didn't he?" Ana let go of her hand and doubled over, heaving until she threw up a black substance.
"Nadya... Nadya... Please, I don't have much time. I'm not a worthy vessel." Ana stared at her sister with urgency, and then it dawned on Nadya.
"No... No..." She stared in horror as her sister sliced her own forearm open with a talon, black blood spilling out. Ana raised her arm to her.
"No, I won't do it. Please, Ana! Don't make me do it..." She cried, as her sister was becoming visibly weaker.
"You have to. There's no other way."
"Please..."
"Nadya, wake up."
Nadya's eyes abruptly opened. She groaned as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
Nadya, wake up.
"Can't you leave me alone for one fucking sec—"
We have an intruder.
UltimateKane99 t1_jdquxu7 wrote
Reply to comment by RoyalGarbage in [WP] Due to a miskey, HR accidentally hired an orc for their newest IT replacement. However, no one has complained about Goog's work yet. by mattswritingaccount
And if you try to do the same thing, it will throw every error the compiler has a hundred times over, and some that you'd swear are simply made up.