Samantha, Sam for short, was drawing on her iPad and listening to random songs when an interesting sound caught her attention. She stopped what she was doing to quietly sing the song as best she could. The beat got her bobbing her head and tapping her fingers along. She was having a blast listening to this unknown song.

Flames burst behind her. Sam, not knowing what to do, stood up knocking down her chair. She was about to run from the flames, thinking up her next move. She has never been in a fire before. Never even imagined it.

Out of the fire came a demon of sorts. "Who dare summon me in the tongue of the old!?" He demanded.

Shocked Sam knew not what to do. She had never summoned a demon before. She has heard of such things but this seemed different. How was she supposed to know the song would summon the beast?

"Speak now child or else!" He sneered her way. He was impatient that's for sure.

"What's your name?" She mumbled without thinking. Sam knew what a demon was as her mother always forbid her from learning such things. Saying things like "it will steal your soul" and "you will never see the light of day" like Sam was naive. Albeit she was, as she was an ordinary child like everyone else.

"My name? you ask? How dare you!" The demon almost looked offended by what she asked. The poor child knew no better. "I'll ask again! Who dares summon me?"

"Sam... M-my name is Sam." She says stumbling over her words. The demon scared her, but she was too curious about him. Why was he here? Did the song really summon him? She would wonder.

"Sam... Is it short for something? I've never heard such a name." He says curiously.

"Yes... Uh, Samantha... It's short for Samantha." She says looking the demon up and down. Sam liked the red-skinned demon. She thought it suit him as red was her favorite color. "What should I call you?"

"Call me? I, the great demon, shall not be anything! No human shall know my name!" He boasted.

"How can I understand you?" Sam curiously asked as her fear slipped away.

The demon said nothing as he was stuck thinking. He was stunned he didn't know the answer. He, the great demon, did not know.

"How dare a human ask such a question! Don't you know manners?" The demon shouted at the little lady in front of him. Her eyes shimmered with curiosity. He could tell she was pure as snow. Those hopeful eyes, the curiosity, the fire in her soul. He wanted it all. "What do you wish for, human?"

"Wish? Me?" Sam asked confused. What kind of wish was the demon talking about? Was he going to steal her soul like her mother always told her?

"Yes, you who else would I be talking to?" The demon asked annoyed. "I will grant you any wish you want, but only one. No more." The demon continued softly.

"A wish. Any? I've never thought of one," She said innocently. "Will you take my soul?"

The demon now shocked didn't know what to say. How did a human know such things? There was no way for them to know. It's part of the contract. "Yes, for your soul. A wish will be granted as long as I get your soul once you die." He says calmly.

His calmness scared Sam. "Will you kill me?" She asked wide-eyed.

"If you wish it." He says simply.

"I do." She says not even thinking. It was true. Sam always wanted her life to end. She wanted a peaceful death, not one that would hurt. If this demon would kill her swiftly and stay by her side, then she was willing to die. She always wanted a companion by her side, especially in death. She learned that no matter who you met, you could never be too sure they would stay by your side as death takes you.

"Is that what you wish?" The demon asked getting closer to her.

"Yes," she whispers, looking the demon in the eyes. He was all so calm, it kept her calm. How could a demon be so sweet, if they were such horrible beings?

"Then I shall grant it." He says swiftly taking Sam's soul out of her body, in one move of his hand. She didn't feel a thing.

The demon held Sam's hand as he took her down the hole in the floor. He was going to take her soul back to his place, with all the others. Sam's soul would make a nice collection. The start of the best collection. The demon was excited about the new adventures.

"Will you stay by my side?" Sam asks floating with the demon.

"For now and forever." The demon says.

This deserves a continuation. 👌

Exactly, even if it kills everyone at the impact zone as well as a few miles out destroy all life on the planet like the meteor would.

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constructive criticism

A dense silence fell upon the reunion. The intruder was a child to my eyes, a courageous child, but a child nonetheless. My colleagues moved on their sits, a few seemed bored, most felt insulted and at least one was eager to drink the boy’s blood. But I was in charge that day, I call them and I was the one being shouted. This was my job and it will be done correctly by demolishing that little puny human. Am I being hard? If you take down the Union of Justice, you’ll develop some self-love too.

“Hmmm… Isn’t there an ultra-strong, fast and kind alien defending the city as always? I don’t remember anyone of us killing her in the last couple months. Did you kill her without calling me? How rude.” All the table roared with laughs. One jumped on the table and threw a plate to the boy. My telekinesis caught the plate, more roasts were coming.

“Her family is in charge of the attack” The child said, all laughs ended, the plate fell.

“Boy, explain” The laconic (and brute) Tulka spoke before anyone could even react.

“She said it herself. Our city is condemned due to something we did centuries ago and caused all the heroes appear. An experiment which affected this world and the others” The kid was scared, he did not know the full answer. I have changed my mind, not brave but suicidal. But he did come.

“Soooo... your ideal hero become delusional and genocide and you come here? There are plenty of other heroes and people that could help. Do not bother us with unexpected rivals.” More laughs

Tulka stood, his two and a half meter of pure, indestructible muscle was threating, but he spoke, not threated. His voice was deep, almost not recognizable from a roar and it was clear how difficult it was to him. He spoke more than he did in the last hundred reunions:

“Boy is right. No one defies She-allmighty except us. I like not her nor her ideas. City is only place I am good. I fight.”

And he left directly to the city. Through the roof. I was shocked, not for the roof: I would feel ashamed if the room survived the meeting, but for the meaning of those words. The remaining villians were uneasy. As he said, this city was the place were all of us gained our powers (or special abilities or whatever). The next speaker may move us to the city or far from it. And the boy was not prepared for that burden. But he did come.

“If our city is guilty, I do want to save it. Not for the people nor the money, I just want to make a hell for the heroes that hate me” Kald, the most brilliant and paranoid woman in this world, reached the same conclusion that Tulka. She had made great speeches before, but today she only said that. Then she went to the boy and exited the room while interrogated about the ‘enemy forces’.

More villains stood and went to war. Many did speeches too. Most of them were mad, they were going to destroy more than save and the child must have known that. But he did come.

At the end, there were only three of us in the room. Three of the twenty-one. The room was huge now filled with dust from the roof, broken glass on the floor, chairs thrown and broken… and three silent silhouettes. The demon took their original form when we were alone, when the weak minds left.

“Will you save your beloved city then?” said the demon, looking both at the same time. “The moment you save a single person, your souls will be mine, that was the deal.”

“We have powers beside from yours…” answered Jonah, the ancient man who found the way to make the contract. He was unsure and demoralized.

“Oh, yes, powers that did not help you to win against the Union. And even with those powers you are unable to beat her” the demon laughed at us. Or coughed. I cannot differentiate those “You, Herdra, when did you fight her for the last time? Tell us how you lose.”

“I could not damage her.”

“See? He is an experimental superhuman apart from the power I granted him and she is beyond your reach combined. An army of those beings? Not only you are doomed if you exit, but your souls will be doomed too.”

“Then I will sacrifice my body and my soul. I never was evil, curse you.” answered Jonah. He rose to face the demon, but he looked like a senile man. Even with devilish powers, he was too old to do anything but die out there.

“HAHAHAHA” the most evil laugh ever heard in this dimension crossed the room “You Jonah? The scholar? The one who is afraid of darkness and thunders? You will perish. Your centuries of unnatural studies will be lost.”

“Herdra…”

“He is more cunning, and crueler, he will save himself and gain your powers the moment you die. A soul and a more powerful ally, I only win as always” the demon aura filled my vision “How will you feel with your powers doubled? Not only the supernatural, I offer you to enhance your innate powers too. He is going to die and you will need time to prepare another ritual, and time to obtain the sacrifice. Not anymore, your soul IF you ever die and everything I give him will be yours. Knowledge, money, intelligence, power…”

“Deal.”

“wome… Wait what? Is that easy?“ the demon looked shocked for the first time since we summoned them. Maybe they was not that bad, or maybe I wanted to believe that.

“Yes, and if he dies I will get tripled everything as our previous contract said.”

“Eeh, not sure if it is possible for me or anyone to control that much pow…”

“I said DEAL. Are you a demon that does not want a soul-contract?” the temptation was huge, I did not get another shot like this ever.

“FINE. YOUR SOUL IS DOOMED IN EXCHANGE FOR UNFATHOMABLE HUMAN, SUPER-HUMAN AND MAGICAL POWER. I grant you that.”

For once, Jonah understood my intention. He knew me, he almost nurtured me, he had shown me many things and yet he did not understand my final move until now. He had been hearing the offering in silence, expecting my counter-offer. The only rule in this kind of negotiation was to not sell your soul at your death, everyone dies so another condition must be met. I was ignoring that rule for something and at the end he knew.

“So, is this the moment our paths diverge?” asked Jonah, almost tearing his voice and full of tears his eyes.

“Yes, I am truly sorry.” I said as the new powers flowed though me. Now only my innate enhanced powers could be enough to beat the Union, I cannot imagine what my magic is capable. The demon seems now weakened, but joyful, he will get soon really powerful soul to fest upon. Or that is what he is thinking.

Jonah closed his eyes and muttered “Good bye” just before I end him.

"WHAT? HE HASN’T SAVE ANYONE YET. YOU ARE RUINING THIS."

“Yes, I am denying you his soul” I truly smile for the first time in the whole meeting “Now I am leaving, these powers might need a test.”

“Nononono, you aren’t going there to save them… You can’t, you will not risk your soul…”

“Of course I am, my soul is doomed whatever I do. Am I right?”

And the most joyful laugh ever heard in this world could be heard in that room.

>!After, in Hell.

“WHY?” Asked the demon. “The boy did come”!<

I only do prompts that sound interesting to me, I don't care if it's popular or not.

"How much are you taking out?"

The portly man smiled, as he looked at the list of time he had spent.

"A mere two years today."

Opposite him sat the Dealer. Its skin was stretched taught against bone, fingers turning to claws at their tips. It had eyes of white, and a distinct lack of hair on its head. Any who saw it would know it was an undead. It nodded, pulling the scroll back towards its side of the desk.

From a drawer it withdrew a large black quill, it's tip shining a spectral blue. In a practiced motion it added on his withdrawal, leaving a space next to the life. It offered up its quill, and the man happily seized it, signing against the withdrawal. There was a faint rattle as it was completed, before the Dealer looked up at him.

"The transaction is approved. Go the the Hole, and you will receive your money."

The man smiled, pulling himself up. Already he pictured the fine foods he could now buy, his particular indulgence. As he left, the Dealer rolled up his Credit Scroll. With a puff of dust it vanished, returning to the vaults below. It's job done, it sat up straight, waiting for the next visitor. It stayed still, having no concept of fatigue. It merely waited to do its job.

With a crash its door burst open. A pair stood in its entrance, wreathed in magic. The one who stood in the door was a looming figure. She held a pair of almost comically small shields in her grasp, shaped with a sharp point. Her body was clad in plae armour, green lines pulsing along it. Behind her was a diminutive figure, in golden robes. Most of their form was hidden, as gloved hands held a staff taller than their person. The Dealer looked at them, before gesturing to the seats before it.

"Welcome to the Exchange. How might I be of service?"

The looming woman lunged in first, aiming to grasp the Dealer. But as she did black chains burst from the ground. They grasped her charging form, before pulling her down onto a chair. The golden robed person had moved to follow, before more chains rose to give her the same treatment.

"Unhand us monster! We know you are the key!"

It knit its fingers together, looking steadily at them.

"My name is the Dealer. Explain what you mean that I am the key."

The robed figure spoke quietly, a far away accent coming though their tone.

"You bind souls and manipulate minds to be beneath you. These people are slaves to you and your master's will."

The Dealer watched them, unmoving.

"I'm afraid you are mistaken. We do not enslave their minds. And it is very rare we extend a line of soul credit. It is true there are occasions, but it is all explained to those who wish to do so."

The woman strained against her bindings, hateful glares looking at it.

"Lies. You lie. Undead are evil, and you would not have such care for the living. We have had to put so many to rest."

The Dealer unlaced its fingers, taking a new scroll from thin air. It looked it over, before glancing at the heros.

"So you are the cause of our loss of staff. I shall make sure that is passed on, so reparations can be made. You say we have no care for the living. Technically that is true. But we care about what the living produce. More bodies. More to join the working class. It is simple. An investment of money in now, decades of free work coming later."

"Lies."

She spoke again, echoed by the robed figure. The Dealer snapped the scroll away, before tapping a button. There was a pause, before a hoarse whisper came out.

"What is it?"

"I require some educational materials be sent to holding cell six in the Skull sector. Two copies of each."

"Very well."

The line fell dead, and the Dealer returned its attention to the heros, who still fought a futile battle against their restraints.

"I understand you will not listen to me. Please do not resist your transfer to a holding cell. There you can speak with someone more qualified than I on this subject. I am a Dealer, not a Teacher. But rest assured only Dealers can offer lines of credit on your body and soul. You will come out with all faculties intact."

A pair of lumbering corpses squeezed through the cracked doorway, having been summoned by his call out. With vast expressions they picked up the now swearing heros, carrying them from the office. The Dealer resumed its earlier position, waiting for the next customer. It would make its report at the end of the day, for the Necromancer's office. He always liked to know when heros bothered his little arrangement.

What?

Today Henry died.

He fell from the acolyte tower. The one over by the gardens. It’s a good 150 ft from where he slipped on the ice and went over the rail. The healers just shook their heads when they got there. Nothing to be done they said. Beyond our care.

—

I tried to wake Henry up in his room today before I remembered he was gone. His body is down in the morgue, being prepared takes 7 days before they can bury him. I can’t think straight, he was never gone before. Why is he gone now?

—

Henry has been gone for a month. I was removed from the enchanting circle today. I couldn’t say the chat right. I kept having intrusive thoughts on how stupid it was that he died. Stupid ice. Stupid tower. They shouldn’t let the rails be so low. The ice should have been melted. I’m going to go talk to the arch-mage right now. Make sure that the right enchantments are placed and maintained. Forever.

—

I have become consumed with Henry. Thoughts of him plague my sleep. I have to talk to him. He could always understand me. We were to grow old side by side. Our families were to intertwine. His daughter was to marry my son. My name was better he said.

I’m not supposed to study the dark works. They said you never got back what you put in. I don’t care. Henry will help me. Henry will come back. Henry…

—

I completed the ritual today. Henry lies next to me as I put a ward here, a token there. At midnight he will arise.

—

The stroke of midnight has just sounded. I watched Henry go from slack and unresponsive to alert and attentive. I rejoiced and said his name. Henry’s head snapped to my voice, but it wasn’t Henry that answered. What answered screamed and leapt from the table. It raked my face tearing an eye out. I…I ran from the room. I slammed the door behind me and now I strain to keep the door closed while Henry attempts to be with me once more.

That's my first try writing something, also not being a native English speaker, so sorry if I messed something up (:

One gulp of water. One another.

&mdash; Well, what a situation that has turned up to be, huh.

Snakeskin threw empty bottle away. It bounced from one of the many corpses. Going through his usual armonry, he prepared himself to face the enemy. Being the only bad guy in the Riverside to overlive two consequentional generations of heroes, now he has to see the third one going against the Horde, trying to stop it from devastating the city.

For thirty years these weaklings foolishly tried to enforce a "full and proper order" in the city, causing all sorts of nuisances for those who were using unconventional means to build a somewhat better life in there. Many others were caught, some fleed to one of a less "heroic" cities or even submitted themselves to heroes. Not Snakeskin.

At first it was sort of difficult &mdash; being just another one of homeless boys in a large trading city, getting yourself something to eat and wear for a price one can handle &mdash; free, namely &mdash; without disturbing any hero was a challenge not everyone could handle. Not so much of a choice, though, since all those smug cretins having any business here were not interested in any worker other than from their families or friends. Getting into legal life after being born outside of it was a truly impossible goal here.

Now, after all those years, having a full-fledged organization of spies and thiefs with a vast connections to legal and illegal companies in other cities, with the capital itself included, life seemed to be settled down. Until the Horde has come. And all the heroes &mdash; these good-for-nothing jerks, born in a veil of wellbeing, who never had to fight for their life &mdash; only for their messed up principles of "lawfullness" and "proper way to live one's life" &mdash; are now being completely useless.

&mdash; I think I've seen enough.

So Snakeskin goes to his favourite place &mdash empty so-called "park" between slums and somewhat richer houses, where he always has better thinking. A plan should be come up with, the organization should be provided with water-clear orders, and all possible outside connections should be brought up as to get as much help as possible, with death being result of any failure. Nothing actually unusual, frankly.

Hey, Ryter99. Thanks for the opportunity to read and comment. A whimsical story of flight to freedom and togetherness. From the moment Ollie left the room I was pulling for them.

Critiquewise, this piece is peperred with expression that I found distracting. Some examples:

>... resided a residence ... versus stood a residence
>
>... sat at the edge ... could be on the edge
>
>... on his uncle's lap before his passing ... not possible after passing so redundant
>
>... no pursuers on their tail ... pursuers can only be on their tail

The plot lacks tension and the escape seems too easy. Perhaps Mrs. Kensington could be momentarily disturbed. Cliche, I know. There needs to be an obstacle of some sort and the gate is too late in the story.

Ollie apprears to be the MC. You can constrast his trepidation against his sister's by closing the psychic distance and speaking his mind at each move.

A plot turn might explain why the gate was not in their plans. Perhaps they intended anothe route but are discovered and must take the car as a last ditch option.

I still liked the story a lot and found it easy to put these issues aside and ride with the characters. Cheers.

"So, what was your sister like?"

Priscilla continued to wash dishes, and began to hum.

"I saw you crying, you know?" Zack searched for the words. "You seemed to care about her more than you let on. You never really talked about her."

A condescending laugh erupted from Priscilla's mouth, the first true-to-character moment since the funeral. Zack was tempted to search for the scar again. Maybe he'd just missed it.

She spoke in a low tone, eyes trained on the dishes. "My sister. She was a bit of a loser, I guess. That's probably why I never spoke of her. She was an anxious girl who didn't know how to interact with people, so maybe she just pushed them all away. Convinced no one truly cared about her."

Zack remained silent.

So she filled in the air. "She went crazy, and no one could tell her a thing, especially me. She probably hated me. She always felt I was so headstrong and competent; maybe she felt I looked down on her all these years." Her scrubbing began to slow. "Really, I probably loved my sister more than she loved herself. She was just too broken a woman to see it, before it was too late.

Zack noticed tears welling up in her eyes and rushed to comfort her. "I'm sure your sister knew how special your bond was when she passed." He hated seeing people in pain, so it was instinctual. He was still cautious of this Priscilla, though.

It was her turn to remain silent, so he continued. "Love is complicated." He recalled what Priscilla told him about Love on their honeymoon night. She'd jabbed a nagging finger at him and exclaimed, "Love is a pragmatic decision. No one is entitled to it, as it doesn't exist. It's a decision forged in fire each day. You can love anyone.

He'd cried when she told him, his illusion of being viewed as Prince Charming crushed. He asked this Priscilla, "What do you think about love?"

She hesitated, biting her thumb before answering. "I think Love is like a flower, guaranteed to bloom if nourished and protected. I don't think you ever truly love anyone, just their avatar, their place in your life. My sister would probably agree."

An interesting take but different from what he'd expected from Priscilla. Before he pounced further, Clarice danced into the room, tortured goldfish in hand. The fish was belly up in his little beg. PETA would have our heads for this, Zack thought.

"Daddy, Mr. Bubbles is taking another nap and won't wake up," Clarice said.

Priscilla pounced on the interruption. "Well, I'm sure he'll be bright and awake tomorrow morning! Daddy will read you and Mr. Bubbles a nice bedtime story for sweet dreams." The smile on her face was so sweet any child would eat it up, but an adult would feel sick.

Clarice left the room, and Zack began a slow, defeated stroll after her until Priscilla spoke again.

"She's had quite a few of those, hasn't she?"

"Yeah," Zack said.

"That's the beautiful thing about being treated as a child; the mature try to save you from the reality of life." She scrubbed harder on the dishes as she spoke.

Zack pondered the phrasing before turning towards her. "Do you think some vicious nemesis killed your sister? Someone she pissed off?"

Priscilla hesitated. "Probably not. We come from a family of weakened constitutions. Disease and illness plague us. She probably knew she was dying and chose to go out on her terms." She shrugged. "A bastard of a fighter to the end, I guess."

"Oh." Zack moved toward the door. Before he left, he stopped and said, "you were never this polite before the funeral. Lots of attitude and snide remarks. I wouldn't mind a bit more of it."

"That so?" Priscilla tossed the dirty dish in her hand into the sink. "Then how about you clean these fucking dishes, and I read her a bedtime story."

"Daddy, daddy, look!"

His youngest child, Clarice, dashed through the hallway. One hand held a soggy, half-eaten chocolate chip cookie, the other a plastic bag filled with water; an orange goldfish shook in it, eyes wide in terror. Or maybe that's just how they naturally looked.

Regardless, Zack pitied the poor animal.

"Mr. Bubbles woke back up just like you said." Clarice shook the bag with reckless abandon as she spoke. It'd be a miracle for any fish to survive more than a week with her, and miracles didn't happen in this world.

Zack and his wife - Priscilla - replaced 'Mr. Bubbles' for the fifth or sixth time that year. It felt almost cruel to keep this secret from Clarice, but children were better left shielded from the world's cruelty.

He smiled at his daughter and whispered, "we told you the Bubblenator would be fine, didn't we?" His throat felt sticky from the fake-sweet voice adults spoke to children in, but he continued. "But please, keep it down for mommy's sake. She's a bit sad right now. Ok?"

Wide, searching eyes met him, but a verbal response attacked him from behind.

"Mom's doing fine." His teenage son - Trevor - said. He stuffed three whole cookies in his mouth and choked out, "She's cooking up a storm and humming in the kitchen. You ask me, never been happier."

That's precisely what I'm worried about, Zack thought. His son didn't understand women. If they went more than two days without complaining, it was suspicious. His wife had gone seven, a code red. He imagined biting into a soft cookie she made especially for him, only to find divorce papers hidden in it like a fortune cookie.

His blood froze over at the thought. His greatest fear was his wife coming to her senses and leaving him - maybe she'd leave the kids with him, to add insult to injury.

He orders his son to pretend to be a good brother and watch Clarice, and he prepared to face the monster in the kitchen. She was ready for him, draped in a pink frilly apron. Her skin looked moist and soft; lush lashes accentuated her narrow eyes. She held a black spatula, perfectly balancing two warm cookies. She crooned -"Hi Honey,"- in a voice the sirens would envy. The perfect wife.

But not his wife. The Priscilla he knew only eyed him like a worm, berated him for his unhealthy eating habits, and disciplined him like he was the third child. She'd badger him about the clothes in the hamper, the smell of beer on his breath, and any other shortcoming. Secretly he welcomed it; it was a sign she hadn't given up on him and the marriage yet.

He was still trying to figure out what to make of this new pattern of behavior. He grabbed the cookies, smiled, and asked her, "anything you need me to do?"

"Hmmmm. No. You can relax and watch sports." Priscilla said.

"What about the trash?"

"I took it out already."

"I could wash the dishes."

"Cleaned those while I cooked. It's always easier that way."

"The gutters?"

"I hired someone to do it while you were at work."

Zack's frozen blood began to crack. His wife may have already realized that she didn't need him. He'd hoped he could keep the wool over her eyes until he was on his deathbed, only croaking the truth to her at the last moment. You've been bamboozled. Major life events had a way of making anyone reevaluate their lives, and she had a doozy of one last week.

Eight days ago, she attended the funeral of her estranged sister. The details burned vividly in his mind. It wasn't hard; there was little to remember. A minuscule crowd consisting of him, Priscilla, and their two children were the only ones to attend.

Before the funeral, his wife hardly spoke of this sister, so he assumed she was showing face. But at the event, her head hung like a dog caught stealing Thanksgiving ham, and he swore she used the cover of the rain to mask her tears. Since then, her bold and slightly - probably more than slightly - condescending demeanor had been replaced by this new bubbly avatar. She was a peace sign and dance away from being a damn anime character.

"Look, Priscilla, if you want to talk about the funer-"

"Oh dear, I forgot the ingredients for dinner. I'll have to go to the store." She vanished before he could stop her.

Pre-funeral Priscilla would have made him get the ingredients.

It was always like that when he mentioned the funeral. She'd do anything in her power to avoid talking about it. In one of his less exemplary moments, he'd asked while they lay in bed and gleefully watched her tie her hair back and straddle him. Replaying the manipulative moment in his head made him feel sick. Divorce was coming, for sure.

The following day, Zack began a last-ditch effort to save his marriage. He scavenged the attic, searching for mementos from the past, anything that could pull the old Priscilla out of the animated clutches of this new persona. Through the dim light, his eyes located a dust-covered album book. He scoured the book looking for ammunition and only found questions.

Each picture in that book contained two avatars of his wife. He assumed camera malfunction at first, before the dim light bulb in his mind sparked. Twins. Her sister is a twin. Cool, he thought. He placed the album book down and descended from the attic before the lighting of epiphany struck twice.

Twins. Twin sister dead. Wife is acting different. Almost like a new person.

It was impossible, that type of thing only happened in movies. If he had talent, he'd make a kine Hollywood scriptwriter with his impressive imagination. Childish imagination, Priscilla would say, unless she was dead.

No. Get that out of your stupid head, Zack thought. Someone would notice, this isn't a movie. Life isn't filled with mindless side characters, utterly unaware of their surroundings. He pushed the thought to the side of his head. He was at peace until he remembered it was a closed-casket funeral.

It was all too suspicious. But, try as he might, he couldn't let it go. It made sense in a moronic way. His wife, perfectly domesticated? Priscilla? She'd rather be stoned by molten rock. He had to do something to quell his stupidity.

At dinner, he asked Priscilla to pass him the mashed potatoes. When Trevor reached, Zack launched into a speech about following direction and obedience. Trevor left the table, storming up a storm of attitude. A small price to pay.

When Priscilla reached to give him the mash, he clutched her wrist and pulled her shirt sleeve back. He searched. Zack had picked Priscilla up mid-tantrum in his foolish younger days and spun her around, hoping to defuse her with humor. He wasn't aware of his surroundings and spun her into a pole. His diffusion attempt backfired. The mark from that day was not on this Priscilla's arm.

Her eyes narrowed at his touch, but she flashed a smile.

After dinner, he insisted on helping Priscilla clean the dishes. She resisted but allowed him to hover around.

A stale silence sat in the kitchen with them. She did the scrubbing; he passed her dishes. Conspiracy theories swam in his mind the whole time until he finally unleashed them.

Haha that's dope. Thanks for reading, the next part will be out soon. :)

Is the Dead King spreading propaganda?

Keter isn't a wonderful place

Sckkkkkk… There is was again, that damn scratching coming from somewhere within my old Victorian home. This one was soft that time. The noise long, winded. Almost as if it was tired, as tired and as old as the wood flooring. I don’t blame it frankly, it’s been nonstop these last few months; even with myself and my wife in and out of the house, with dozens of people coming and going. The noises never stopped. Dusk til dawn, this house was screaming, but never singing. The noises were always bitter, never sweet or gentle - and I couldn’t help but shake the feeling it was speaking to me, telling me something.

Warning me.

I left my office, it was nearly midnight; I’d been hiding out long enough. It was time to get back to reality. Back to my wife, who was somewhere in this home; this too large home. I wasn’t but a few steps into the hallways when I heard a creak, and once again, the door to the spare room where our stuff was stored was cracked. I went to close it, but noticed a frame; cracked and broken laying in the gap preventing the door from closing.

I picked it up, and in that moment; my breath caught. I could feel my palms get clammy, the photo beginning to slip…the photo that contained two teenagers - both of whom looked like Jenny. Looked like my wife. Is my wife.

But it wasn’t my wife. She was pretty. Blonde hair, curled to the ends. Grey eyes that sparkled like the moon. A smirk, with the right side curled slightly higher than the left.

The girl on the right, however, was almost unidentifiable. Her face was scratched out, the eyes scratched out; the nose was replaced with a hole. And the mouth, the tiniest and whitest smile the woman could muster; was covered but a giant black”X”, that was thick and scribbled all over. I knew those features, I knew that face…

That’s the woman I fell in love with.

“Leif?” I heard her voice ask, it was sharp, stinging. I turned around, and saw that crooked smirk first. Uneven. Unsettling.

This wasn’t my wife.

Gorgeous writing, good start to a very interesting story!

"Man, you are ugly. You're definitely staying single for life with that face." My sword pretended to gag as I wiped blood off my brow. My short black hair drenched ruby red in the sunlight. I whipped my blade covered in blood as it scattered onto the grass.

"You missed a spot. Also, you handle a sword like a toddler." I've had this sword for a couple years now. I bought it for only a few copper. I thought it was an amazing deal seeing that it looked like an amazing weapon. The sword edge shined deep red in a way that made it look unique. I could sense its power within.

"I'm honestly surprised you made it this far."

I was curious why it was cheap. The guy looked really desperate to get rid of it. When I took the sword home. It was silent like any other blade. That lasted about two days. I still remember the first words it spoke to me. I was going to cut a roast from a boar I just recently hunted. I cooked it under a fire while camping out. "You. You better not be thinking about what I think your thinking. I am not a cooking knife. Put me down right now." I stopped reminiscing, returning to the present.

"If it wasn't for me, these orcs would have slaughtered you and ate you for breakfast the next day." I ignored him as I walked over the mangled dead bodies of orcs scattered around me like fresh leaves shaken from a tree.

"You smell like orc shit." That time I laughed.

"Why you laughing?!" The sword asked offended.

"Because I'm wondering how a sword can even smell."

The sword went silent a moment.

"I don't need to smell to know you smell of orc shit."

"Touche." I said calmly while trying to withhold a giggle. The sword sighed.

"You are no fun. Out of all the owners I had, you are the only one that can take my insults calmly without any reactions."

"I want a new owner." The sword said begrudgingly.

I smiled condescendedly.

"Unfortunately for you, you're stuck with me since no one can handle your snide remarks...except me."

"Grr." The sword grunted in reply while I laughed harder.

"You got another 3 orcs on your six. You better not embarrass me again." I turned around and glanced at the orcs that slowly approached me. They looked at their dead brethren before glaring at me.

Roar! They charged at me seeking blood and vengeance as well as honor and glory.

"Your posture is wrong! Spread your legs and bend your knees. How many times do I have to say this?!" I did as I was told.

"To your left you buffoon." I swung at an angle as an orc brought an axe down to my left. I redirected the axe so that it fell beside me. The sword glowed green as a wind gust increased the momentum of the axe. It got stuck into the ground. I aimed for his neck as he tried to pull it out. A clean slice. A head flew.

"Hey, watch it! I might be the most powerful sword in existence but glancing an axe still makes me uncomfortable. It's like getting felt up by a stranger." The sword vibrated from the powerful contact.

I span 360 degrees and used my momentum to kick the falling head at the next orc to my right. The orc who was in mid swing with a wild hail maker punch growled as it eyes widened as the head flew true and hit him right in the face. The orc stumbled backwards as it became blind from the blood of his people.

"Hahahaha now that was brilliant!" The sword shined in a blue glow as an ice blade shot out of it and cut the orc in half.

"Oh I think that's the first compliment you have ever given me."

"Shut up! Behind you!"

I flipped the sword in a backwards grip and stabbed behind me. I tilted my body as a sword flew and cut off a strand of my hair on the way down. I felt flesh as my talking sword sunk into the orcs gut. I turned swiftly and pulled—the orcs head flying a moment later. I took a breath to recollect myself.

"Never. I mean never. Stab me in an orcs gut again. It was bloody disgusting. You better give me a good wipe down later."

"Sure thing buddy."

"Hmph!"

I glanced at the dead bodies one last time before gathering all their teeth before making my way back to the adventurers guild. My task accomplished...

Giant cheeseburger flying over spain

I only know because of Naruto. 🤣 The characters Neji and Hinata refer to each other as brother and sister because despite being cousins, their fathers are identical twins, so they’re genetically half-siblings (due to their different mothers).

But twins have different fingerprints and I think different dental records. So I can’t wait to see where this story goes!

"If you don't like this, just stop me. Oh wait, you can't. Your star isn't even visible in the night sky."

Catherine taunted as she held Josh upside down in a magic force field. Josh just waited for her to finish, trying to ignore all the blood rushing to his head. Eventually she would get bored, she always did. It didn't stop her from using him to scare anyone new who came to the school. A thin silver haired woman ran up to her and pushed her, and Josh dropped to the ground. Josh looked up at his savior, who was yelling at Catherine about her cold heart. Big mistake. Catherine spun her hand in a circle, and the woman froze in place. Catherine waved her hand, and the woman yelled as she slammed against a nearby statue. A horrifying crunch rang out as the woman went limp and fell to the ground.

"Anyone else want to try? Who wants to fight against the power of Sirius?"

All the other people looked at their feet and stayed quiet. Catherine's star was one of the closest stars to Earth, and her power was unmatched by any known wizard on this continent. The one saving grace for the school was that her skills was unrefined, though she could still brute force anything she put her mind to. She gave out a smug smile and started to walk away. The crowd dissipated after she left.

Josh walked up to the Silver haired woman laying on the ground, staring at her mangled limbs. She was still breathing, which was a good sign. Josh put a hand on her, and felt a tiny sliver of his magic flowing from him to her. Her limbs snapped into place, and the scrapes on her skin cleared up. The black circles under her eyes disappeared, and her body grew a bit as she became a healthy weight. Josh quickly withdrew his hand, he had gone too far with his healing. Her eyes snapped open.

"What just happened?" She exclaimed, as she shot up to a sitting position. "I feel better than I ever have."

"I healed you." Josh stared into her gorgeous eyes, so dark they appeared black like the night sky. "My name is Josh."

"Thank you. My name's Elizabeth." She looked at her arms and legs, then at Josh. "I thought your magic was weak."

"That is what people say. To be fair, you can't see my star in the night sky." Josh got up and started to walk towards his room. He stopped and turned back to Elizabeth. "It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you too." She said, as she stared at him. She watched him walk away, then glanced up at the hot sun beating down on the courtyard.

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Josh stared at the unlit candle in front of him, focusing with all his might. He focused on simply lighting the candle, then shot out his magic at it.

The candle lit up in a fireball, blinding him. When his vision returned, he looked at the tiny stub remaining. He sighed, and blew out the candle before tossed it to the side. He set up another candle, and started to focus when he heard a knock at the door. He opened it, and Elizabeth walked through before he could even process who it was. She looked around at the burned walls and the pile of spent candles in the corner. Josh stuttered trying to say something, but she spoke first.

"Nice place. Is it okay if I ask you a question?" He nodded. "Why do you let Catherine treat you like that?"

"She has the power of Sirius. No one is able to stand up to her."

Elizabeth looked into Josh's eyes. "No one?"

Josh shifted uncomfortably on his feet, then sat down on the bed. It felt like she was staring into his soul. "Yes, she has the closest star in the night sky."

"What about the day sky?"

Josh's eyes opened wide, before he faked a chuckle. "You can't see stars during the day."

"You can see one." Elizabeth sat down beside him. "And I think there is someone more powerful than her. So let me ask again. Why do you let her treat you like that?"

Josh stared at her, examining her chiseled features. It took a moment for him speak.

"Because I can't control it. I once used it to push away a bully in elementary school. They found his body 15 km away. I only meant to push him a foot. I never meant to- to do that to him." Josh's eyes started to water as he remembered the poor boys mangled body.

Elizabeth looked at him, then put a hand on Josh's shoulder. "That was a long time ago. You must have better control now."

"No. You see that chess board with a missing piece?" Elizabeth looked at the shelf he pointed at and nodded. "Last week I tried to fix the piece with magic, and it became a fully grown tree."

Her jaw dropped, and she stared at him.

"What about all the people she hurts? Surely it must be worth standing up to her for them?"

"Never. I promised myself I would never hurt another human being, no matter what." Josh got off the bed and looked out the window.

"But you have so much power. You could help so many people!"

"You don't get it. I don't have a power, I have a curse. I'm so sorry, but I can't help you." Josh turned and gestured towards the door. "Thank you for visiting, but please leave me alone."

She got up off the bed. "Fine. But if you change your mind and decide to be a good person, let me know."

Josh watched as she walked out the door. He sighed, then started to focus on the candle again.

Edit: part two is out. https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/z8wsyf/comment/iyf9hdm/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3

Muy bueno

I appreciate the support and words, if I think of something solid I’ll write it down, add it as a reply to my post and let you know!

in a world where Germany gets the nuke first, they theorize about what would have happened if america had gotten the nuke earlier. in that world, they theorize what would have happened if germany got it earlier still. what would the world so many layers deep that the nuke was created before ww2 look like?