Part Four.

Part Four.

The dating scene of the modern era can be an eldritch being on its own, and yet one finds themselves in a mediocre coffee shop far overpriced for tobacco stained water. The meeting was due at six, and the rotation of the planet only crept further into the chill darkness before calling a day, packing an item or two of food and leaving the rest with a wad of the implied valued paper.

The breeze was firm as the water fell politely upon the clothes and mask, a thin mist that was almost as enjoyable as watching people cower under cover to hide from it. The park deemed a wonderous place to breathe after being surrounded for too long, silently nodding to oneself at the idea. One hand would extend to take a abandoned, incomplete cigarette from a tray when a voice would call out "Hello, abomination"

The seemingly ordinary woman would hault, looking around to find a pidgeon, wet and cozy enough in the shelter of a barber shop window sill, a soft gold highlighting it from signs left on inside. The individual gave a wave back, a smile tugging at the corners of a false mouth. "Hello, self righteous vermin. What "rule" have you come to enforce?"

The bird would blink, clouded eyes weaping into the wet feathers. Angels had such slow replies, pre-approving every word. "Humans are under the care of us." it would coo, fluffing and shaking off to dry. The humanoid would scoff and laugh. "Tell J-ovva they can tell me themselves. The cosmos is not to claim by a singular."

A moment of silence as the message was passed on, shoes beginning to clack away on pavement, expecting nothing but another rejection. The phase would only repeat with emphasis. "Humans are under our care." it would repeat, plopping down onto the pavement and speeding behind as another person left the bread store across the street, cussing a storm at the weather.

"Why are you here?"

The two would silently walk down the street. An answer would imply there was a reason to begin. People would pass them. A family rushing into a car, a couple would giggle past in a rush. A mother keeping the child dry while talking on the phone. They paid little to no mind to the duo, living their lives. Unknowing.

"I enjoy watching them." The horror would reply. The angel would pidgeon coo in approval. Out would extend the human arm as a gesture of a carry, the true form moving beneath. "Come watch them with me for an hour."

"No." Was the reply, rejecting the offer of the carry, pointing the slightly too large head upwards in a snobbish fashion. "Not with you. I can watch you for their safety."

A disgusted, unintelligible sound escaped the throat as the offer withdrew. "Self righteous, as always. I'm going to find bread and throw it at you." Joked the eldridge

"Kindly do not." Requested the angel, hearing food crunch in the jacket pockets, finding the company of each other not all that unpleasant.

Reinita awoke with a start and flung the pillow off her face, looking to the window. It was already night, and her stomach reminded her of the fact she needed to eat.

She pushed herself out of bed and headed into the kitchen. There, she found some quickly-going-stale bread left out, sliced. "Mom," she said quietly to nobody, as the kitchen was devoid of presence save herself. "Thank you."

When she finished eating, Reinita went and sought out the family bible, which contained in it her mother's genealogy and the stories of their faith. One day, she knew, this would be her book. She never had an urge to read it before, but the figure in her dream was familiar to her. She sat on the couch and read from the beginning.

>It is said nobody truly knows Who came first. In the beginning, there was darkness; in time came the stars. It is said that, seeing the void of space and the great lengths between the stars that land of iron was created.
>
>This first land that was created was wide and the playground of creation, in which Caprea formed the first life. Its shape was as wild as its spirit, and in truth, Caprea's spirit as well. There was little more she enjoyed than creating being after being, but soon, their number grew too vast.
>
>She took her most perfect creations and had them placed in another land above the Realm of Iron, the Realm of Gold. This land was far smaller and populated by the Gods. It was there that the Gods took inspiration from Caprea and began to create Their own life forms, amongst them humankind, which they sent down to the Realm of Silver. Caprea, satisfied with the fractal infinity of creation She had seen brought about, took to resting and was never heard from again. Those who leave Her offerings find themselves with neither help nor response.
>
>The Gods, as They are named, were... And many names were listed. But among them, the one who caught her attention was, ... Madofue, Lord of the Stellar Forge...

Reinita flipped through the book until she found the relevant chapter.

>MADOFUE, LORD OF THE STELLAR FORGE
>
>A titan among men, Madofue is most noted for His single arm. He is the ugliest of the Gods, and for this, one of his titles is "The Ugly." Even the kindest and most compassionate of Gods laugh at His countenance, offering Him little more than pity at best. He was the one who forged the weapons the Gods used to fight back the Army of Iron. Not much is needed to be said about this God, whose existence - while honorable - is unfortunate and unhappy.

Just before sunrise, her mother came into the living room wearing a flaxen nightgown. "... going to shave your head and become a priestess?" she joked.

"Ugh," Reinita said in response, rolling her eyes.

"What got you reading the bible all of the sudden?"

"I had a dream about a man at an anvil. It sounds a little like Madofue, doesn't it?"

Her mother's silence made Reinita choke the words out once more, though she failed to spare her mother so much as a glance. "It... sounds a little... like Madofue, right? Doesn't it?"

"... I suppose so," she sighed and walked around the couch to take a seat next to her daughter. "Reinita... there's something I ought to talk to you about."

"Not interested, reading the bible."

"Reading can wait," said her mother.

"No, whatever it is you have to say can wait." Reinita turned the page. "The guy in my dream wasn't exactly hot, but if it was supposed to be Madofue, why was He called the ugliest of all the Gods?"

"Well, if I had to guess, it had to be in comparison, as decided by those doing the judging," said her mother with a shrug. "The followers of Madofue are often lacking in looks and are deformed in some way."

"You say that like you know any," said Reinita as she turned the page, reading. "I mean, you are a gossip, so it shouldn't surprise me that you would know at least one."

"Ugh! Rei! Where are your manners? I'm your mother, not your friend, be respectful!"

"Stop hounding me to get married, first. YOU never got married."

"That's what I want to talk to you about."

Reinita's nose curled in disgust. "Ew, no."

"Not... not how you were made. Well. A little." Before her daughter could counter her or make any sound of distress, "I mean who made you."

Reinita looked at her mother now, giving her proper attention. "Does it matter? He was a deadbeat, he never stuck around to find out what would happen."

"It does matter. It matters a lot. Let me tell you about him, and his connection to Madofue."

Slowly, the young woman closed the bible on her lap. "Alright, mom. I'm listening, but you better tell me what he's got to do with Madofue first!"

[removed]

Hephaistos?

This was good! Also answers how people actually manage it irl: climb, hold on and pray!

I would very much like it

That was pretty good.

You should post this by itself, it seems like it would have some good storys

The blacksmith made me think of Vulcan from Warhammer 40k.

Right, like I said, if that was the goal it succeeded, but there's people that unironically say this kind of stuff and I kind of got the feeling that the post was guided by that.

You know why they call them Heaven Spots? Because if you fall from that place up there, there's only a couple places you're gonna' go.

Kuma always found those jokes a bit morbid. But considering how Skullz died, he wasn't wrong. Died painting a watertower. That factory's been on the city's demo list for 30 years. Skullz is still up there. He became a regional legend, and he wasn't a bad cousin either.

Kuma glanced at the sides of the rail he found himself on. And while people always tell you 'don't look down', he marveled at the cars as they rushed by three stories below. It was a local rite of passage. This bridge was meant for freight trains to cross the river. That didn't stop the state from building a freeway underneath it.

The way to get in was simple. Deadly if you do it wrong. But simple. Make sure the tracks are clear. Walk to the main span. Scale the retaining wall. Climb down to the bottom of the beams, and shimmy to the pilings. That's a place to rest your extra cans. Then find a spot on the ledge, and start painting. To leave, simply repeat the previous steps. Make sure not to climb into the path of a train.

He began filling in the outline carefully. This was meant to be a big one. First layer red. Second layer Tangerine. The outline would be black over white. Second color goes down first.

The person standing on the ledge with him almost made him slip off. Kuma grabbed the overhang and pulled himself closer to the metal. It didn't make sense. People didn't sneak up on him like that. This guy hadn't made a single noise, but he couldn't have been ten feet away.

He was young. Probably younger than him. College, maybe high school aged? He wore an orange puffer jacket. The color making him stand out against the hazy tan of the night sky. Almost a similar hue to the paint on the wall.

"You're hitting my spot?" He yelled to Kuma.

"Your spot?" Kuma replied over the wind. There wasn't any other tag here on this end of the bridge.

"Yeah, my spot." The man yelled back.

"...Well, we'll just have to share then." Kuma remarked. He made sure to watch his footing. Looking up, the man had gotten closer. How he had no clue.

"Got anything this color?" He said, pointing at his jacket.

Kuma handed him the can he just finished using. The other man grabbed the can and went to work. Fast. Too fast. He barely held the overhang as he went down the rail doing letter after letter. Before long, he switched to a light yellow. The orange can had ran out and he tossed the empty to Kuma. It was too far out however, and the can shrank into a flying dot somewhere below.

"You better hurry up." The other writer mentioned. "You can't stay here forever. You'll fall off."

Kuma agreed silently. And the pair worked together in tandem. Every once in a while, closing into trade a can. For some reason, the other writer kept producing cans from his jacket. Up to at least 10. There was no way.

It wasn't until he'd put the finishing signature on his work that Kuma leaned to read both names. Kuma. And Avon.

That couldn't be right. From what he remembered about the guy that wrote that handle. He'd been dead maybe 20 years.

"Avon?" Kuma asked over the traffic.

"Yeah?"

"Are you related to Avon?" He asked further.

"Have we met?" Avon asked him, leaning way too far towards the edge.

"Did you paint Melba Square? For Y2K?"

The reply came after a moment of silence. "I haven't been over there in a long time."

"Been a long time." Kuma agreed.

Avon dropped his hand and held it flat like he was measuring something. "You were real little. I didn't know if you remembered me."

"How could I forget?" Kuma answered. His grip shifted. "Hey...." He paused. "Where's Skullz? Did you know him?"

"Know him?! We were best friends!" Avon admitted. "Last I remember... He wanted to paint the old foundry uptown."

Kuma wanted to ask more. But rumbling overcame him, and he held on tight as possible as the structure shuddered. A train was passing overhead. A long one. A cold breeze reminded him to look over. Avon had somehow closed the gap. He could see the features of someone who hadn't been alive for some time.

"Why are you still here?" Kuma tried to ask over the noise.

"I've always been here. We always will be." Avon explained.

"Why?"

"This doesn't stop." Avon answered. "None of this will ever stop."

He studied Kuma's concerned look. He was getting tired. It wasn't time yet.

"Go home, Kuma. You did good."

"How?"

"You're still alive." Avon answered.

The roar of the train carried on. Shadows cutting off the little glimpses of overhead light one could get.

"It's been fun." Avon waved. "But this is my stop."

And with one of the reverberations of the train, Avon's right foot missed the railing. He didn't make a sound as he fell and rolled through the air into the dark. Kuma reached for him, but stopped himself and grabbed the overhang again.

His body wasn't there. It wasn't anywhere.

After the train passed, it took some careful climbing to get back onto the tracks and walk to the end. Crawl through weeds and over rocks, through fences to the tracks and to the ground below.

Avon would have landed right here. Kuma checked the traffic nearby as it flew by at highway speeds. No way to survive a fall like that. Nothing but dirt, concrete and gravel to hit. Above, he saw his name. Avon's name was also there. How, he had zero clue. However, on the next piling, there was another tag. One he never noticed on his way up on his way down.

It was a skull.

I figured this character deserved a second shot. So here's some worldbuilding. r/Jamaican_Dynamite

Totally what would have happened in Mass Effect if Shepherd didn't become a household name...

Nice.

... wait, the point was to parody a DARE ad, right?

[deleted]

The manifesto above is entirely about how inferior smokers are as people and you seem to be pretty on board with it, so that's how i got that impression.

What gave you the idea I hate smokers?

Damn, that was amazing!

I'm a doctor and I don't even hate smoking as much as you people hate smokers.

For mortals, it's been 5,000 years. For you, it's been two hours. It's the eldritch version of 3am and a cult is trying to summon you; all you want is a good night's sleep but it's the fifth time tonight.

[removed]

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.

If your manifesto happens to perfectly fit the writing prompt whether intentionally or not, it's probably fine lol.