This is very clever. I really like how it seems the text is able to recognize thoughts rather than actual speech. That's something I had never thought of.

I also imagined this person retaining their physical body in this place, but I think their consciousness existing here instead is a very cool idea!

Purchase a subscription? What is this nonsense? How great can the afterlife be that I have to pay for it? Moreover, what is the price?

All these questions and more flooded my head as I stared perplexed at the white text floated dauntingly above my head. I figured I would give this afterlife a try, and finally asked one of those questions out loud after a long while just staring.

"But.. what do I have to pay?"

As if to answer my question, the text began to glitch, forming static boxes, letters being momentarily cut in half before being replaced by new ones.

"A monthly subscription is required. You will have the means to pay when you accept the purchase," I read aloud. That was too much gray area involved in this deal, but what else could I have done? Stand in the abyss for all eternity? Below the text was a lightbulb, turned off, a string dangling below it. Though the void was black, it wasn't necessarily dark.

I slowly approached the bulb and pulled the string towards me. In an instant, the bulb lit up much brighter than I had expected. It was blinding and I felt the aching behind my eyes as I attempted to shield them with my arms.

I stood there a few minutes, pinching my eyes shut before I realized the light had ceased. I opened my eyes to find myself standing before my own grave. How long had it been? I could've sworn I was just in my hospital bed taking my final breath, and when I opened my eyes, I was already buried.

Confused, I stood standing in front of my grave for another several minutes. It was surreal, knowing my now lifeless body was buried six feet beneath where I stood.

A mist had slowly started to fill the graveyard. The graveyard was built on a short hill next to a pond. From where I stood, when the fog got thick, I could no longer see the pier, which wasn't too far from my grave. In fact, the only thing I could see was my grave and the tall cloaked figure standing on top of my headstone.

I tilted my head, confused. "Who are you?" I would be lying if I said there wasn't a faint hint of attitude or sass in my tone. The figure lowered its hood to reveal a face, much like mine in my youth. I stared back at those brown eyes and short, unruly waves sculpted in my hair. The face was quite handsome, reminding me of a time when I was much more desirable and depended less upon my younger family members.

The figure sat down on my headstone shaped like a crucifix, crossing his legs and smirking. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Naming your price," he said simply. Before I could ask him what the price was, he handed me a sword. "This is your scythe. You will travel to the afterlife with me, assuming my form as you see me now and proceed to live your life among the dead as you would if you were still alive."

I nodded, eager to retain a younger appearance again. Yet I was still bursting with questions. "Will I age anymore?" The figure simply shook his head.

"What does the afterlife look like?"

"It's a nearly perfect replica of the living world," he replied. "With one small catch." He proceeded to smirk at me before continuing. "Time works differently. We have no time. The world darkens at what you'd call 'night' and the sun rises during the 'day,' but time is irrelevant to us. It's a concept that we don't pay any attention to. It's simply the motion of the world that we follow."

"Isn't that what we consider time in the living world? The progression of night and day?"

"Truly," he said. "Time is much more complicated. At any point in time, different people are experiencing different events, recognizing different indications of 'time'."

"I see," I replied, looking down at the sword in my hand. The blade was thin and long, with a black handle I could grip at the end. "What do I do with this?"

"I'm sure you're wondering what the price is," he said, his smile widening. "Using this scythe, you will collect human souls. Each month you have a check-in during which you submit your harvested souls to the higher-ups. If you meet your goal, your subscription is fulfilled and you may continue to live among the dead."

I just stared at him, again, perplexed. "So, you want me to harvest the souls of dying humans?"

"They don't have to be dying," the figure said ominously. "Any other questions?"

"Just one," I began, nervously. "What happens if I don't fulfill my subscription?"

The answer was something I was dreading, though he never gave me a straight answer. All he did was laugh and say "you don't want to know what happened to the last guy who didn't meet his requirements..."

I saw the sailor swimming to me. I expected it to be another meal. They crawled onto the rocky shore with scrapes and bruises. I smirked preparing for my meal. Expect the mortal said something that shocked me.

"Hey. Can you stop singing? You're making my crew go mad with your high pitched wail." The pirate said. I was confused. How was this human not under my spell? I knew I wasn't the best singer. I was pitchy, but I could at least carry a tune well enough to attract male sailors. Even the worst sirens could do this.

"That's odd. You should be under my spell no matter how bad my song is. A siren's song is guaranteed to attract all males." I replied. Then I noticed something odd. Under the shredded top that the human wore were breasts, which were similar to mine. They also had a high pitched voice, gentle features, and long locks of hair spilling from their disheveled cap. "You're not a male sailors are you? You're a tom. A lady disguised as a man"

"That obvious? But yes. You're correct. That's why I'm not affected by your siren song. Because I'm a girl." She explained. I was curious about why she was here.

"Why are you here if you're not affected. What purpose do you have for coming here? And what is your name?" I questioned. This human reminded me of someone I had met years ago.

"My name is Mary Bonny-Rackham. I came here looking for freedom and safety. I've been sailing for years trying to follow the path my mother, aunt, and father set for me. My mother was Anne Bonny, my father Calico Jack Rackham, and my aunt was Mary Read. My father and aunt died and my mom escaped and had me. She took us to safety in a foreign country. But now I am grown and wanted to sail and learn who I am. However, my ship wrecked and I landed here. I was looking for help." She explained. I smiled.

"I knew your mum. She came to my island on her voyage. She's infamous in the oceans. What help do you require and what is my payment?" I asked. She smiled.

"I require passage and your power. My goal is freedom. I seek to go to the new colonies or the Isle of Sirens. I hear it's a place of dreams and freedom. Your pay is my companionship. I may be immune to your song, but I am like my mother and not immune to a woman's beauty. So is it a deal?" She questioned. I smiled. I had wanted love for as long as I could remember and I wanted to go home to the Isle that my people came from.

"Deal. But we must seal it with the Siren's Kiss. You will give me your heart." I countered. She nodded.

"I am willing to give my heart to a creature as lovely as you. Seal it. You own my heart." She agreed. With a wicked grin we shared a kiss with a deal on our minds. The sailor grew a tail and became like me. I smiled and felt adrenaline at having a mate.

“…what?” was all I could muster. How could this man, middle aged, and as weak minded as the rest of them, have resisted the effects of my song? In all the years I had spent here none of the ships that were unfortunate enough to pass by my favoured spot had survived, except those who were just far enough away that my voice couldn’t reach them. But this lone, old man somehow stood out from the rest. As his crew were meeting their watery graves, he climbed onto shore. “I’m begging you, please no more. Drown me if you must, tear my heart from my chest, but please stop the Damn singing!” Again, all I could muster was “…what?” This was, to my memory, the first time a human had actually spoken to me, and it was a little jarring to say the least. “My wife back home could do a better job, and her tongue was taken by the gov’ner for speaking Ill of his father, lord bless him.” This man was somehow…being casual with me? Well, as casual as you could be when you insult someone’s who livelihood. “How are you not entranced?” Was it a spell? Was it a hallucination? Were other sirens playing some elaborate practical joke on me? Was it-“I mean, you are beautiful, don’t get me wrong. I can see how most men would lose themselves to you.” He pulled me from my thoughts, but didn’t answer my question. “But that SINGING, I mean seriously, did they only make you a siren out of pity?” “pity?!” I hissed, this has not only survived, but had the gall to disrespect me to my face? Did he not see the razor sharp talons at the ends of my fingers? “I’ve been a siren for longer than you’ve been alive, mortal. And I’ve killed more men than you’ve ever seen! How could you-“ with that, I felt a odd sensation I had never felt before, in my abdomen. Was it admiration, I thought?No, I had admired the songs and beauty of other sirens before. Was it some type of respect for the man who was brave enough to stand before me? No, my eyes were still locked on his, and I could feel the burning hatred for him in my heart. This was… different. This was… bad. I looked down, breaking eye contact for the first time since he climbed onto my rock, to see a piece of metal, broad at the base but growing narrower towards the tip, sticking about 7 inches out of my abdomen, right below my exposed breasts. Then it was suddenly gone, and red liquid replaced it, quickly followed by that same feeling, I recognized as pain, intensifying. I looked back up at the man, he was smirking, and all I could muster was “…what?” Before I collapsed. I could no longer move my lower body, but I knew I could still sing, still had some semblance of a chance at survival if I could only compel this man into the deep seas. So I sang, harder and louder than I ever had, only to feel something quickly grasp my briefly exposed tongue, then sever it. I could no longer sing. “My talons!” I thought, but I lacked the strength to move them, somehow my body was losing energy, and I was getting…cold? “This can’t be happening, I live in the sea, I don’t get cold.” I thought, eyes still trained on the man. Suddenly, a group of 3 other men appeared into my vision, from behind me. The first one nodded at the others. “Well,” he said, removing something from his ears “that was easier than I anticipated, I figured at least one of us wouldn’t return home…and I was sort of hoping it would be me, that part about my wife was true, you know.” They all shared a small laugh, before turning their attention to me. “How is this possible, what sorcery is this!?” I asked with my eyes, and they got the message. “When we heard the stories of a lone siren, who has been luring men to their deaths for centuries, we were all terrified. Hell, you would be too, given the accounts of you. Those faaaar of ships? They were close enough to see you, to see what happen to those who ventured to close. Dead men tell no tales, but live one certainly do. That ship I was on? Full of prisoners, given the death sentence. The gov’ner figured ‘if they’re gonna die, let them die with purpose’ and distracting you was purpose enough. Shame, if only we’d thought of this sooner. cork from the ale bottles, it completely deafens us, see?” He showed me what he removed from his ears, a tiny thing, the size of a pebble. “We weren’t sure, was it the song? Was it the beauty? Or was it some joke of the gods, would we be effected simply by being close enough to you? Turns out, it’s just the song. And with that ability gone, you’re hardly a danger.” I was scared, I knew what this was. Some base instinct, telling me I was in horrid danger. Is this what all those men felt, as they sunk deeper and my song lost its effects? “Alright lads, let’s take the head and make our way home, it’s gonna be a long trip in that small dingy.”

I think replace heaven with hell and you'd be spot on, considering the average reddit user

:) nice

[removed]

It was a prompt about two princesses and two knights, half of which were dragons. It was destined to turn into a polycule

Was not expecting a polycule. And am not disappointed.

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

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts 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.

The sirens are badass, I support them 100%. They're very metal indeed.

I had a really stupid idea. Over 600 people tried before me many of them had armies. They’re all dead am now and I was just gonna be another casualty. But I did my due diligence, swords, magic, bows, poison they all failed and ended up dead. So I decided to try something really dumb. I worked my way in to becoming a chief in the dark lords kitchens. And I waited and took notes, I figured out what the dark lord didn’t eat and finally I had an option, lemons! Maybe he had a citrus allergy? When I was supposed to cook for him I put lemon in his meal and waited. Didn’t take long for a guard to come for me and I was escorted to the dark lord still alive. “Are you the one who made my chicken?” I nodded fully expecting to be killed. ”That was one of the best chickens I ever had. You used lemons in it right? You had some guts to try lemon when no one else had. Continue to be bold I look forward to your next meal.” And with that I left. Yeah it was a stupid idea guess I’ll have to keep trying. The chief assassin never gives up!

"I'd like to say I've been in weirder situations, but I really haven't."

I sheathed my sword as the silver dragon retracted her claws. I looked over the entrance to the tower and said, "Alright, clearly there's something else going on here, so I vote we cooperate long enough to figure things out and get our respective princesses back. So, truce?"

The dragon grunted. "Fine, truce. My name's Kala, by the way."

I bowed and responded back, "Captain Catherine of the royal guard. Now come on. If your princess was taken too, the guilty party likely expects you to fly up to the top. We'll take the stairs. Hopefully, they're only prepared for one of us to be coming up that way."

Kala nodded and crouched down as a cloud of smoke with a metallic scent surrounded her. Once it dissipated, Kala was now bearing the form of a woman with golden hair and piercing green eyes. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Oh crap, you're hot."

I clamped a hand over my mouth as Kala blushed bright red and awkwardly said, "We, uh...we should get going." I nodded and opened up the door for the both of us. Thankfully, the awkwardness faded quickly as Kala and I fell into a conversation that lasted us the entire trek to the top. Once it dawned on us that we hadn't encountered a single trap since we got here, we readied up for a fight.

Kala broke down the door and I presented my sword, only for the both of us to stop and stare in confusion at the sight before us. Spread out across the ground was a picnic blanket weighed down with sandwiches, fruit, a charcuterie board, a bottle of wine, and macarons. Pouring the wine into glasses was Princess Lucille and a woman who I assume was the dragon princess Morrigan. Morrigan beamed and cried out, "Kala, you made it!" As Kala went in to hug Morrigan, I sheathed my sword again and asked, "Uh, what's going on?"

Lucille giggled and handed me a glass. "It's a date, silly!"

Kala abruptly pulled away from Morrigan and replied, "What?"

Morrigan kissed Kala on the cheek. "Backstory time! So, me and Lucille have been friends since that inter-kingdom meeting, and when I told her you and I were thinking about adding other people to our relationship, she had the idea of putting together all this for a nice little date!"

I tilted my head in confusion. "Okay, but, why did you drag me into this if you just wanted you just wanted some time with your dragon girlfriend and potential human girlfriend?"

Lucille cracked up but stopped when she saw my expression. "My God, you're serious. Cathy, I've been in love with you for nine years."

"No seriously, what's the--mmmmmph!"

Lucille cut me off by yanking me into a passionate kiss. Once I was allowed to come up for air, I ended up spilling my wine as I said, "Okay, I think I believe you now."

Lucille dragged me down onto the blanket and pushed me up against Morrigan. "Now you two get to know each other while me and Kala get acquainted."

And so, we talked, flirted, and ate the rest of the day away, thoroughly enjoying each other's company.

It amused me as the sailor struggled against the waves. Oh, how many had tried before. They were all ground up by the breakers. He, too, would be reduced to a bloody pulp of flesh and bones soon.

Or... not? He kept on swimming! He had reached the rocks... and found his footing!

Could it be? Could I finally have found someone worthy? A true master of the elements? Indeed, his strength seemed still to be intact as he started climbing the rock me and my sisters were perched on. "Please" he begged. "Please" he pleaded, as he reached our summit. Impossible! No one had reached the top before! Could he be the one?

"Please. Please stop! You're so bad at singing!" he sad. As one, my sisters and I gasped.

"Impostor!" I cried. "You dare defy the Gods?" "Death to the false ones!" a sister cried, slinging herself against him, toppling him over the edge. "The Gods?" he incredulously yelped as he fell over the edge.

"Aye, the Gods" I confirmed before we resumed our song, not even waiting for his body to come to a rest at the bottom.

"The Gods Made Heavy Metal And They Saw That It Was Good
They Said To Play It Louder Than Hell
And We Promised That We Would
When Losers Say It's Over With You Know That It's A Lie
The Gods Made Heavy Metal And It's Never Gonna Die!"

I doubt it, seems werid for the league to do that, of anything MM can just erase their memory from knowing league members name or Zatana can cast a spell on them to make them forget.

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

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts 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 is just What We Do in the Shadows

This is actually an scp. Idk what the number is but there is a girl that can go into photos, with pretty much the exact same premise as this.

I faintly nod. He places my blade before me, and I can feel my wounds close. I can feel every hurt and ache cease. I no longer feel the tiredness of having fought with no breaks for a day and a half. Oddly, his eyes upon me are sad, where before they were full of pride and regal power. Death against him would be a worthy way to end my existence. Death, upon his blade, would be something that could rally whatever was left of the forces of light, to hold on for a little while longer. I make the choice to be a martyr. For I have no other choice. Not if I want to be true to myself. No matter how much that little voice inside pleads with me, begs me to lay down my blade and bend the knee. I do not listen, I merely watch as the Dark Lord draws his own dark blade, and stands before me.

A duel. I throw everything I have into it. My every thrust faster than the human eye can see. My every swing deadly and simultaneously a method of repositioning my body to another angle of attacking. And yet it doesn't matter. My blessed sword is met with his void-blade at every attempt. His eyes follow me, sad and deep as they are. He only defends against my strikes, does not attempt to hit me, only shows me an unbreakable defence. I understand what he wants. He knows that I want to put down my blade. That I want to cast away my free will and let him be the architect of the future. But my will keeps me in the fight. It takes a long time for me to find an angle where I might get in a strike. It is an attack of opportunity, and it will be risky to attempt it, but I have no choice, his defence is otherwise unbreakable. I feint to the side, and go low, only to use the momentum of his blade's movement to propel me upwards.

For a brief second, I can see a chance to strike him down. But it is for naught. I feel his cold void-blade enter through my chest. Not enough to kill me immediately, but a fatal strike nonetheless. I fall to the ground, wheezing, as his blade leaves my body. I feel weak. Strong arms, the Dark Lord's arms, pick me up. He looks down upon me, his face marred with corruption from dark magics, yet still undeniably handsome. He looks inconsolable. More like a man who had to kill his own son, than a tyrant killing an enemy.

''It did not have to come to this. Even now, I can save you. I grant you the choice of life, again and again, and you pick death. Strange and beautiful hero, that you are, you stubborn fool. You, who could have been a great boon for the world and its many people, you who could have done many great things, if you'd only joined my side. There is still time.''

I shake my head. He truly believes he is making the world a better place. Maybe he is. But I do think that his future is the right one. And I'd rather die with my integrity, my will, and my honour intact, than to surrender as many heroes who've tried what I've done have chosen to do before me. His hand gently caresses my face. Odd, that a man I've never known personally should do that, but he sees in me something that he thought wonderful. Someone who could help him, who could understand him maybe. Someone with a will nearly as strong as his own. I feel so cold. And it is hard to breathe. It is like being a child again, being held by this Dark Lord, his enormous form creating a certain size difference. And it is like being held once more by my father, who'd gently rock me to sleep in his arms when I was a child.

I close my eyes. And I breathe out for the last time.

/r/ApocalypseOwl

There never was any chance of victory. Not really. No fortress can hold the line against the Dark Lord. No siege can last forever. No army, no matter who backs them, their righteousness, and their strength, can do anything more than provide a temporary setback for the forces of the World Empire, under the rule of the Dark Lord. His mages are more numerous, more disciplined and well-trained. His gryphon-riders outmatches every aerial force that the dwindling forces of the light can muster. His agents turn the population against us with ease. In every conquered kingdom, resistance is futile. In every city, the Dark Lord wins the loyalty of the conquered by being, on a purely socio-economic level, a better ruler than the old order. He knows the value of merit, over the mere accident of birth, he knows the strength in letting people rise to the occasion, rather than keeping them in their place. Perhaps, if we had not been blinded by our arrogance, by our ancient bloodlines and our stratified feudal lives, we would have had the loyalty, resources, and people, that is now held firmly in the iron grip of the Dark Lord.

So as kingdom after kingdom falls, one can say that the Dark Lord is undefeatable, and we might as well give up. Surrender now while we can. But that is not right. Sure, life is better for the people under the rule of the Dark Lord, but they have no notion of his final goals. Of unseating the gods themselves, of taking the mantle of power from the devils and demons. Of assuming a position atop a golden throne that will allow him to win forever. There will be no freedom, except what he gives. There will be no chance at a life without his enduring rule. If he wins, then the future of the universe itself is his iron will dominating everything forever. A safe future, but one without freedom. Without hope. We are not perfect. Our side is not without its flaws, but there were a chance of a better future, when the forces of light held dominion over the universe. That one day, the races of the world would unite and free themselves from the old order, and establish a world free from tyrants.

It is similar to what he is doing, but he is simply exchanging tyrants that are, with less horrible tyrants to come. True freedom, where all mortal races are equal, and free to make choices on their own, is not what he wants. Is he the Dark Lord, who crushes empires, butchers nobles like cattle, breaks the walls of the elven cities with his own hand, burns ancient palaces to the ground to make room for his own projects, crushes his enemies, see them driven before him, and hears the lamentation of their spouses? Yes. Is he the same Dark Lord who builds hospitals, schools, orphanages, and social housing, feeds the hungry, clothes the naked, and cares for his subordinates? Yes. After all, a benevolent tyrant is still a tyrant. His good deeds do not wash out the evil he does. In fact, it makes them worse. How can someone care for the orphans, provide homes for the homeless, encourage schooling, and at the same time lead Dark Legions that topples the gilded thrones of the world, killing thousands, maybe millions?

That is why I have no choice. That is why my blade even now carves through his infernal armies. Why my sword glows with a light that cannot be extinguished, that the darkness cannot destroy. That is why despite the unending legions that he has at his commands, I will keep fighting. I will not stop even as dark spells try to crush me, only for my own unending will to turn them aside; I have no choice but to try anyway, no matter how bleak the battle, no matter how futile the fight. Is there any other choice as I ram my blade into the skull of one of his demonic generals. As I hold aloft my blessed banner inspiring my fellows around me. Is there any other choice than to keep fighting? To stand against this unimaginable force, who may have had good intentions, and may do good deeds, but will in the name of progress and a better future, create a world where good is mired in bad deeds and evil wills, until all that is good will be done in his name, and will be done upon a foundation of bones and blood. As my holy shield breaks in my hand, against a cavalcade of orcish knights charging at me, I keep fighting. Because I have no other choice. As my dead comrades rise around me, raised by the necromancers under the Dark Lord's command, I keep fighting. Because I have no other choice.

Even as the Dark Lord's personal guards go against me, these captains of battle, who have proved themselves on a thousand battlefields, I don't stop. I cannot. These, who have slain worthy knights of great renown, elven warrior-kings of endless prowess, and powerful archmages beyond count; together they could tear down the armies of many kingdoms on their own. I cannot slay them, but I can hold my own. I swing my blade with precision and accuracy that is almost inhuman. Perhaps even now the gods of war are riding my body like a man rides a horse, making me into an instrument of carnage. I parry with effortless movements, just the same as my opponents. They must be opposed. If they, and their master wins, they will make a world of order and progress that will never be free. Because it will be so good, like a gilded cage, where the people shall want for nothing, and never rise up against their masters. Under the old lords, things were bad, but the anger was building. We were on the cusp of revolution. Of change. And instead he came, as he does now to the circle in the middle of the battlefield, where I am surrounded by his elites. He took charge, aroused the people to anger and rage, and made himself an emperor, where we needed none.

Even now as I stand before him, I feel his charisma. I feel his will, greater than my own. It is almost enough to make me bow before him. To pledge my sword and life to him, as many champions have done before. But I manage to steel myself. To gather unseen strength, allowing me to instead strike at him. Instead of dodging he simply catches my blessed blade in his hand. And with a single movement he disarms me, and looks curiously at the blade, as if he is admiring the craft. I have nothing left. My spells are used. My bow was broken early in the fight, and I seem to have misplaced my dagger in the eye of a cyclops that was under his sway. He turns to look me in the eyes. I see how easily he took charge, in those eyes. His will itself is radiating out of them, like a spell that makes you understand him as an authority. I want to look down, to apologise for staring into those beautiful orbs of his. And yet I am defiant. He must be opposed. The Dark Lord must under all circumstances be opposed. And I will not break. Not here. Not now. Not ever.

''Your will is strong.''

His voice is full of pure power. Of raw dominance. Of fatherly love even. Less the voice one would use to speak to an enemy, more the voice of an impressed teacher, if anything. I can only nod. If I were to speak, I do not know if I could resist bowing, but I must keep resisting. No matter what, I have only one option, only one choice, resistance.

''Were you to bow down before me now, and swear me your loyalty, I would grant you the rulership and position in my empire that a person of such indomitable will deserves. Few have come this far, and remained loyal to themselves. I can respect that you do not bend the knee with ease.''

I say nothing, nor do I move an inch. His every word drips with power. His every movement was that of a true leader. Even now, staring into those deep dark eyes, I could feel a part of me desiring to bow, to obey, to join him and perhaps act as a force in his regime that would lessen the severity of the dark acts he will do. And yet, I remain loyal to myself. I have no other choice. Not if I want to remain myself. Remain free.

''On the other hand, I can grant you a worthy death. A battle against me. One-on-one. Your many wounds healed by my flesh-menders. Your strength restored completely by spell and potion. Your blade against mine. You will not win. My victory is inevitable. But your death can be a glorious one. Your body will be buried with honour, as if you had been one of my own closest and most capable officers. I would grant you that, should you prefer it to bowing before me.''

I can tell! Keep writing <3

Theme Thursday Discussion:

>All top-level comments must be a story or poem.

> * Reply here to discuss the theme, suggest future themes, and share your theme-related inspirations!

• Please remember to follow the subreddit rules in any feedback.

&#127381; New Here? &#9999; Writing Help? &#128226; News &#128172; Discord

Violent, mountainous waves churn overhead. The full moon dances and bends in the refraction from below. Ever moving hues of starry purples, steel blues, and mossy dark greens swarm and undulate, lifelike in its oceanic rhythm. Amidst this darkness, this veil of shadows, I reign. Amphibious mortals, sentient or simple-minded, all know to fear us. We, the few. We, the sirens. Luring the scaleless ones above to be ours till the end. A meal. Such sweet ecstacy that only the fear and the blood of the scaleless ones can give. Hundreds have fallen prey. Tonight will bring no change. No alternative. Only death awaits. And I relish in the bloodlust. It is time to strike again. Time to set the bait. Swiftly, eager for blood, I swim up through the murk, ascending through the threshold onto the rocky coast of the expansive island the scaleless so often sail by.

Lightning flashes. In the light the outline of the small ship becomes visible. Weather is no obstacle, nor night, nor distance. Far off through the cresting waves my prey is seen clear. Two men, as they call themselves. So clever with their ships, they think. They should've stayed on dry land. But who am I to complain? I won't say no to such an easy meal.

Atop the craggy, jagged rock face, I get to work. Shifting my face and torso to a less aquatic form, folding in gills and shifting the hue of my scales to match the mens tan complexion. I close my eyes and release my sirens call.

Like the glow of an Anglerfish, of which I admire in our similar approach to hunting, the prey can't resist the bait. Almost in an instant, a boat is lowered from the ships side with one man rowing quickly to his death grip. The other jumps over the back, surely to drown in these unforgiving torrents.

He and I lock eyes. Predator and prey. Taker and the taken. Queen of dark waters and the scaleless who bleed beneath me.

Eagerly he rows forth. So blind to the wind that shall extinguish his flame.

"Please", he begs.

Ohh the begging. My bloodlust intensifies, almost an ecstacy in these final moments. Beg for me scaleless one. Beg before I rip you asunder.

"Please. Please stop singing. You're so bad at singing."

The sound of rain fades from my ears as if the storm had just cleared. What? He's not affected? And insults his death call? Interesting. I force my face into the lovely smile I know these scaleless ones like. I reach out my hand and try something new.

"If you're not here for my singing, is it my beauty that lured you in?"

A hearty laugh, so in contrast with the situation he's in. "No, no. Wow, you are beautiful though."

Fool. I fake a blush.

"I'm a renowned vocalist", he explains grabbing my hand and climbing up to the rock face with me. I'd kill him now, but let's play for a bit. I've never spent so much time with a scaleless who's still alive.

"You think I'm bad at singing?" I feign hurt.

He stops to catch his breath, wiping his soaked hair out of his face. "Well, not horrible. I was stressed from the storm, and have been known to be... arrogant about singing. I came here with the intention of hearing a siren sing, and give my critique, and tell the others back home that even a siren can take a lesson from me"

Arrogant indeed. But I'll bite. "Then teach me. It would be an honor to learn from you."

The rain let up. Dark drops drip silently from his hair. The look in his eye is like he never expected me to say anything else but "Yes".

Three hours pass by where he teaches me how to control my vocal chords, manipulate my head and chest voice, adjust my tongue to regulate sound and air flow, and tips to practice in the future. I will be honest, I forgot he was my meal. The time passed easily.

"You have skill, and you're not tone-deaf. Keep practicing and you should see steady improvement." He looks back to his ship, squinting to see the captain he's unaware is no longer there. Ah, right. I forgot myself. Meddling with scaleless. If the others knew, I'll be outcast. Time to bring this to an end.

"Thank you for everything. You really are amazing!" I coo, touching his shoulder in evanescent friendship.

"It's been a joy, my dear. This is a new one for me. Thank you for letting me be your vocal coach." He pauses, an idea striking him. "I know, I'll return this time next year and we can make a little music together. Maybe it'll bring us closer, Men and sirens."

Our gazes linger. "Oh you scaleless. Sing with you? You are my prey, and this..." His eyes go wide in disbelief. "This was just a way to pass the time." I slowly shift back into my aquatic form, unfolding gills, fins, and scales, letting my fangs lengthen. "The only music I want from you is your swansong when I extinguish you from this hell."

He backsteps, slipping and falling backwards off the rocks sharp edge. A bloodcurdling scream escapes as I widen my fangs and jump over after him, solely focused on the kill as I drag him down into the inky treacherous abyss.

[removed]

[removed]