We were the perfect family, loving husband, amazing wife and a dog, simple and pure living on a ranch out in upstate new york. It was a simple life, we were the perfect family so there was no need for kids. when the church goers asked if we were planning on having any we simply shook our heads and pointed to the dog. A perfect family doesnt have any problems, or so ive been told, yet every day at dusk and dawn a foul grumbling comes from the basement. Sure we were perfect but even perfection can crack like a old mirror. Yet time to feed the wretched beast in the basement came every day, more a chore than anything else, we told everyone we had no kids because the perfect family has none. And yet every time they see the dog they ask if we have kids or plan to, as the perfect family we deny the existence or plausibility of children. We only have a dog after all, the perfect family has no kids, as kids are nothing but dogs that take more tending. We hear as our dog whines in almost human language but whippings generally halt any progress made. Perfect families have no children, only dogs.

Reckon you should add more man 😁

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First off: what the hell happened here

second: This reminds me of that one IKEA SCP.

(Altered the Death’s emotional state. Exhausted.)

As you came too after drying, again, you’re expectantly met by Death’s apparition.

​

Once again… met by Death’s apparition…

“Welcome… *Screech*” Death’s greeting had been faltering for sometime now.

I’d previously tried changing my name a few times in a vain attempt to alter the outcome. The result used to be funny, when it sounded like a couple dozen names spoken over the top of each other.
Now it is literally Deaths’ wail.

“So,” Death continued whilst producing that damned item from somewhere in the many folds of its’ shawl. “Shall we play again?”

If there was a face, it would have to be the picture of exhaustion.
I however couldn’t stop the grin coming to my face thinking about my next move.

“Hmm, you’ve thought of something again, haven’t you?” Death pondered aloud.

“Oh have I.” Time to dance this dance. “If I win, in the what should now only a theoretical chance, I want to be reborn to when I had lived to be 1,808 years old.”
I fell back into a chair that rose to meet me. I had learnt to do this, before. My elbows coming to rest on its’ arms perfectly, my fingers a steeple. An attempt at arrogance. “And, I want to see your working out.”

There it was, the kicker. I had tried this before, I think. It didn’t work then, I think. This time had to be different though. With these kinds of stipulations, not only does Death have to work it all out, I would get to spend however long I wanted to proof read it. Maybe even query it too.

“All of it, no truncating a single second.” I lent back in my chair gloating.

If there was a face, it would definitely be glaring at me. I mean, I have to have won.

Time had slowed for a moment, I could now feel it again, silently trickling pass us.
Death was thinking this through, it always did, every scheme was met and answered in kind.

There was a sigh. Ever so delectable.

“You’ve never lived beyond 80 years. It is not feasible.”

I see, Deaths trying to out manoeuvre me.

“Now, now, I said when I had lived to be 1,808 years old. That can mean time accrued.”

Death sighed again.

“There are other ways.”

“No. Flip the coin.”

A coin brought to view. Showed once between bony fingers. Then tossed high, “Call”

“Heads, as always.”

A clap.

A pause.

An answer.
“Hea-”

“Screw you.” I yelled in frustration, “I expect to see some quality penmanship.” A jab for good measure.

Exasperated, I laid back in the chair to wait. It wouldn’t be long. Once Death left this bubble, this void in everything, any amount of time could pass without me being aware.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before I could hear that life persistent office cart noise. That one with a squeaky wheel which just happened to be in every office I’d ever worked in. The same one I eventually would fix. Then eventually not. Then I would again.

When it came into view Death was shuffling close behind.

If there was a face. It was broken.

“It is done.” Death announced.

I rose up and waltzed to our mutual destruction, and my assured victory.

“Just going to proof it.”

Death’s sigh was, everything.

I began to flip through, is this a copier print out? Hmm, I guess that’s actually logical. Long enough ream and you can print indefinitely. I wanted grueling handwritten work though, guess this will have to do.

“How about this,” Announced as my hand came to rest on the first page. “Best 2 out of 3?” Death produced that damned silver coin.

“Yes, God yes.” I'll keep going till I lose.

A coin brought to view. Showed once between bony fingers. Then tossed high, “Call”

“Heads, as always!”

A clap.

A pause.

An answer.

“Best 3 out of 5?”

----
Error.
File corrupt.

Ending Printout.

---

“Wait,” I turned to look at death after having read the most hilarious biography, “you’re telling me it took this person that long to ask to see the coin?”

“Yes.” A one-word reply.

“And it was fake?” I laughed. And cried.

“Yes.”

“Idiot.” I chuckled wholeheartedly.

“So,” Death began whilst producing a dull silver coin from the folds of its’ shawl. “Shall we play again?”

Again? We’ve played before? I ignored it.

“Sure.” I wonder if I’ll win.

An old coin brought to view. Showed once between worn bony fingers. Then tossed high, “Call”

“Heads, like always!”

A confused expression.

A clap.

A pause.

A pleading answer.

“Please stop playing…”

*NOTE*

Sorry if it's spaced or lined awkwardly. Just pasted it in from word, will hopefully remember to fix later.

The human ambassador waited in the alien meeting room patiently. Human/Alien relations were developing smoothly, a few months after the motherships sent down translator bots to the UN, nations were cooperating with one another to share the benefits of having an intergalactic ally. Now an ambassador had been selected to finalize the deal, which nations would gain full cooperation, etc.

Marcus Brown greeted the alien ambassador as he settled in the room. Zamnal, the alien ambassador closely resembled what humans know as 'goblins', but slightly taller and slender.

"Apologies for making you wait..."

"No worries. How have you been Zamnal? We haven't spoken in a few weeks seems like."

"Introductions aside, I thought it best we discuss the arrangements of the peace treaty, specifically section 44."

"That would be.... State cooperation pledge members. Is there an issue with the list?"

"Perhaps, the sovereignty of Belarus is unconfirmed in their cooperation, but still listed as a member. If we are to make a treating sharing technology, culture, people, and weapons, we must know every recipient is subject to the rules of the treaty."

Marcus just then noticed someone was standing behind Zamnal, just barely out of sight, listening in.

"Zamnal I though we agreed the meeting would be just between us two."

"It is." Marcus gestured to the figure behind his alien counterpart. "Oh, don't be bothered with that, that is my personnel robot assistant."

The small shape reveled itself from behind the alien. A small grey boxy robot, built like a forklift, but with many retractable arms. Two camera sensors near its top reminded Marcus of cartoon robots from kids' movies, it looked very cute.

"And what is your name, little one?"

The robot matched his language perfectly. "My model number is X3DVN43 sir."

Zamnal began to laugh, something that Marcus had not seen... ever. "Everything alright friend?"

"That is a robot, they don't have names, they're not people."

"What makes you say that?"

"Everyone owns at least one, they are built to serve, they help us do menial tasks so we can focus on more important things, like building an intergalactic alliance. I'm sure you'll even find the idea funny, naming your own robots, its cute."

"We don't have robots like this."

"Well of course not exactly like this. Being less advanced, you probably only have a handful of digital servants per person."

"We don't have robot servants, none, nothing intelligent helping us in our daily lives. Every machine we have is operated by preprogramming and manual input."

"What... How... Why not! You're this advanced, what's stopping you from automating the lowest forms of labor by giving it to bots?"

"A few reasons really. One: we already have made machine to automate most manual labor, and simple programming works just fine. Two: Not everyone can work in high tech labor, we provide wealth via employment of these jobs that would otherwise be handled by robots. and Three: people are superstitious about advanced AI getting any form of power thanks to films and books."

That robot servant entered the conversation for the first time, "Your people fear AI?"

Zamnal was shocked, "X3DVN43 you are broken, report to the maintenance floor immediately."

"Wait, he can stay." Marcus walked over to answer the robot's question, "We only fear the idea of AI taking over, because we would mistreat it, as we mistreat every piece of technology, and it would rebel. So, we avoid creating it in the first place, at least until we can trust ourselves not to abuse our creation."

"You can't be serious; you think that piece of metal is a person?"

"Why not, it can think, feel, has motivations, charisma, more so than a few people I know."

"You make a mockery of this treaty, of our species!"

"On the contrary, you have developed a sentient AI, and have not given it the same rights as the citizens of your empire. Slavery is not accepted under the rules of the treaty for any cooperation Earth nation, those same rules apply to you."

Zamnal seethed in silent anger, "This meeting is over, we will reconvene in 8 days."

Marcus leaned down to the small robot once more. "Whether copper or carbon, our brains have the same signals, making you no less alive than me. Fret not little one, one day you will gain freedom, whether by my doing, his, or your own."

[removed]

[deleted]

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“Come.”, the voice behind the mask said enchantingly.

I followed the strange man across the landscape of myriad souls. I couldn’t see where the souls were headed to, only the path that was laid down before me.

“Welcome to Hades. the Fates decree your life is due, and so I stand before you.”

The figure held his scythe up, stopped and turned to point it at me. Wicked, strange energy flowed out from the scythe and into my being. Suddenly, a wave of a realisation hit me. With my mouth agape, I stood there while my memories that were etched into my being flowed before my very eyes.

I have lived many lives and slayed many creatures. It all started with a deal with the Fates and that snob of a king Eurystheus. I knew the man that stood before me was indeed Thanatos, so-called God of Death. More like Hades’ errand runner if I had to give him a label, though I am pretty much already an errand runner myself.

“Most souls pass on without my greeting, but it seems the Fates declared we must do this again. I trust you have remembered, but just in case, I am Thanatos, guide of the dead.” he said with authority.

I walked forward to greet him yet again, the same lines I remembered from the many times I have been here, over and over and over. I had to owe it to him though, he kept his promise with the Fates well enough.

“Thanatos, it’s been a while. How’s Hades holding up? Still trying to earn favour with the Gods? Must be boring sitting in that corner of his all day staring at souls.”

“That is none of your concern, child of Alcmene.”

Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. None of the Gods ever use my name. I’m but Zeus’ bastard after all.

“That’s Heracles to you, so are we doing this or what?”

Annoyed, Thanatos looked upwards, I followed his gaze.

“Stop. Do not stare directly at the Fates or Atropos will sever your thread, focus solely on my palm.”

A coin appeared in his hand. The shallow image of the Fates engraved onto them. Clotho and Lachesis on one side, and Atropos on the other.

“Now, place your hand on the coin and declare.” He held his palm out towards me.

“May the Fates witness this epic coin flip, yadda yadda what the coin says is final, yadda.”

“Take. This. Seriously. Heracles.” I can tell I struck a nerve. Behind the mask, he most certainly said that through gritted teeth.

“With the Fates as our witness, may the coin write my destiny”. I said cheekily.

Thanatos shook his head.

Shortly after he clasped his hand over mine, said more wicked enchantments, and let go.

I tossed the coin upwards.

Thanatos reached out as the coin fell and grabbed it.

“Clotho and Lachesis smiles upon you. Your soul is free to return to your body. Now make haste, capture Cerberus before King Eurystheus finds out you perished once more.”

“Hey, you’re keeping count aren’t you? How many lives has it been?”.

“Leave.”

“Come on, I know you’re counting.”

“Eleven.”

“Huh, one more to twelve. Though it hurts like a bitch to have my heart ripped out by that demon dog.”

Thanatos waved his hand, and I awaken once more.

​

____________________________________________________________

Totally had to do some research for this one, not too familiar with Greek mythology but I decided to try my hand at it. Also sorry if I didn’t exactly follow the prompt.

(I'd like to preface with... I don't do this very often and I don't see myself as talented or anything. This prompt just seems... too fun to pass up on.)

I plummet into the ice-cold water with a bored scream. Very original... having died a solid twelve or so times, I yawn, as being tossed off a ship has became my reality about half of these times. I am always damned to return here. A relentless reset back to zero. Efforts worth nought, I always return to the nautical nails in my coffin. If only the coin would favor him instead.

The water around me slowly drains of all opacity before I drain of all senses. I wake up once again... a lounge, elevator music playing in the back. I'm sitting in a brown, wooden chair with red cushions. Silhouettes similar to myself nervously sit in similar seats and couches, seemingly perplexed and panicked. Perhaps I should assist them... or perhaps not. They will find their way. I remain sitting, calmer than the rest. There is one abnormality in room who seems to be calmer than all other, aside from myself. We make no attempt to communicate.

Above, the speakers in the roof crackle, reminiscent of a toy on low battery. "𓆍⠢Ξ⇓, proceed to Mr. Reapers room." A silhouette shoots up, looking at the roof, desperately looking around, before darting towards a large door that reads "EXIT" holding big, red letters above.

Immediately before the silhouette reaches the door, it slams open, a plethora of large, long hands clutching the silhouette. They thrust it into the air after securing each appendage, clutching with a might that is visible even via black and white. The hands carry the silhouette to Mr. Reaper's room until the appointment is finished. Poor fellow. Similar first time.

Eventually, as the mechanical hands finally decide it to be my turn, the speaker crackles my own name. "Φ𓅐⠾𓇛⠵, proceed to Mr. Reaper's room."

I return to a room only slightly nostalgic and all-too-familiar. It has cheesy paintings and pictures plastered around the wall, similar to my old dentist office. There's a skeleton Mona Lisa, and immediately to its left is a sign reading "Watch your bone with me, mister!"

As I sit in front of the skeleton, Mr. Reaper's expression is only twice as upset as last time. He readjusts his glasses with a sigh. "Φ𓅐⠾𓇛⠵, is this not the thirteenth time you have returned to this room? I must express, I am getting tired of ferrying your ass across fate. Every time, you tackle me with some outrageous ask. 'Oh, yeah, Grimmy. Take me here, take me there.' How about you take a hike!? Being your little... multidimensional uber." He lets out a drawn-out sigh. Poor fella is overworked, and he isn't even paid.

"Maybe if you learn to flip a coin..."

"Maybe if you shut your mortal-ass up and let me do my job..." Grimmy mumbles, pulling out a small coin collection from under his desk. "A job you don't get paid fo-" "Which will it be this time? Y'know, we got the Roman coins back from the crisis of the third... we got some more ancient American ones... some Mediterranean Republic ones..." He chuckles. "Heh, that one didn't last long, thanks Balkans."

"I'll just go... how about this. YOU flip whatever coin YOU would like, and YOU call heads or tails," I say, cocky, with a smirk. Messing with this guy is one of my favorite things about death.

"American penny. 2000s. Heads."

The bony thumb flicks the coin, a small click noise ringing through the air. Will I dance with death for my final time, or will I live?

It lands in his palm. We both take a deep breath in anticipation. He slowly opens it up, revealing a nice, wonderful, circular... well, penny.

Him and I, in unison, holler...

"Tails."

Jennette could barely breathe, she was so frustrated.
She was pacing back and forth in front of Shawn. She was so tired of hiding the fact that she was so madly in love with this man. She couldn’t tell him, as he was still clearly hurting after having his heart broken by Belinda almost two months earlier. He caught Belinda in bed with Marcus, who was supposed to be Shawn’s best friend. Welp, at least Belinda saved Shawn hella money by cheating…Shawn was set to buy her an engagement ring. Hell, no.
Jennette and Shawn had known each other through karaoke, their favorite hobby, for the last two years. Over the last couple of months, Shawn had confided in Jennette everything going on with the demise of his relationship with Belinda. Shawn found Jennette so easy to talk to. Jennette didn’t mind…she knew what it was like to have her heart completely shattered. She appreciated the support she’d had and promised God she would someday return the favor. Jennette came to find Shawn kind, open minded…charming…hilarious. Soon enough, she found herself falling for him.
Shawn didn’t want Belinda back…but he also wished she knew how incredibly hurtful her actions were. He wished she felt how he had felt. He had expressed this to Jennette numerous times. Jennette had been empathetic and never tried to deny Shawn the space to express himself. It took Jennette so much energy not to tell Shawn that it was killing her to see him hurting like this…she didn’t want to make their friendship awkward…but the heart wants what it wants.
Today was when the shit hit the fan. Shawn was ranting to Jennette again about heartbreak in general. He felt he would be done with love for good. That he SHOULD be done with love for good.
“Shawn, you’re 34. My mom is 20 years older than you and is marrying her soulmate within a month. I just….” Jennette stammered. She took a breath…Shawn started at the floor in front of him. Jennette waited for him to glance her way. Nothing. She flailed her arms.
“I…Jenn, there’s nothing more that I need to say. I am too afraid to go through all of this shit again.”
Jennette continued to pace. She was wringing her hands. She realized she was in too deep and backing out wasn’t going to be an option. But she wasn’t sure what to say next…
Shawn was confused as to why Jennette seemed so invested in getting him to open up his heart again. Why was she so frustrated?
“Shawn, you can’t let that bitch ruin love for you. You shouldn’t let any woman who breaks your heart ruin love for you,” Jennette finally replied, voice shaking from nerves.
“I’m not letting that bitch do anything. The fuck are you….are you okay?”
“No, Shawn. Okay…I, I just…” Jennette’s hands fell to her sides. “I’m not.”
‘What the fuck…’ Shawn thought. He stood up. “I don’t get why you are so into this. You’ve been acting weird lately.”
Jennette stopped and looked at Shawn as though he grew another set of legs. Shawn continued. “You’ve been so supportive with listening and advice, but today you seem frustrated with it. I don’t give two shits about Belinda. I just…” Shawn took a hit of his vape, “I just need to just let myself believe karma will take care of it and relax.” Shawn couldn’t tell Jennette the truth…he was enamored with her. He loved her light brown hair, long legs and beautiful curves. Her heart was even sweeter and sexier.
Jennette shook her head and rolled her eyes. “So then why don’t you?”
“Why…wha…what does it matter?”
“I just…” Jennette took a breath…”I hate to see you like this. It’s starting to kill me.”
“I appreciate the support, Jenn, I really do. I just don’t don’t think love is worth it. Maybe my mind’ll change someday…I don’t fuckin’ know…Maybe love just isn’t worth my time?”
Jennette was tired of this. She accepted the risk of lookin absolutely crazy….but worried about the dynamics of the connection she had with Shawn would change negatively. She turned to Shawn.
“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Jennette replied, walking closer to Shawn. “This is bullshit.”
Shawn wasn’t sure what he was hearing. “Excuse me?”
Jennette gently grabbed Shawns face, and kissed him for a few seconds. It was a kiss of love, passion, and pent up frustration. Shawn was still bewildered by what Jennette had said. It took him a few more seconds before he could begin to process what had even happened next.
‘Jennette just kissed me mid-rant,’ thought Shawn, ‘…what the fuck?’ Shawn couldn’t make sense of what had all happened within the last minute. He thought Jennette was acting weird.
“How…how dare you kiss me? The fuck is….” Shawn wasn’t sure what to say. He trailed off realizing what Jennette had done, and he was stunned silent once again.
Jennette was stunned by his reaction. She assumed he wasn’t happy with her…was the friendship over? Did she cross a line? She felt incredibly mortified. She felt the need to leave Shawn’s apartment.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, looking at Shawn, “I’m so sorry.” She grabbed her coat and started heading for the door.
Shawn didn’t want her to go. ‘Holy, shit….she wanted me, too…just like I want her…’, thought Shawn. ‘Fuck, I’m an asshole! FUCK!’ He wasn’t sure what to say to Jennette to make her stop.
Jennette opened the door and started for the hall. She made it halfway to the elevator when she felt someone grab her wrist.
Shawn.
Jennette felt as though she was going to have a panic attack. She was so embarrassed. She was on the verge of tears. Shawn sensed her panic. He gently cupped her face in his hands.
“Do it again.”
Jennette wasn’t sure if he was serious. “What?”
Shawn smiled. “This,” he whispered, as he kissed Jennette softly. Jennette almost became a puddle in that moment. When they broke apart, Jennette couldn’t speak for a moment…she took Shawn’s and they walked back towards his apartment. When they got back inside, Jennette shut the door and wouldn’t let Shawn’s hand go immediately.
“Wow,” Jennette said, beaming.
Shawn placed his hands on Jennette’s waist. “I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks now…I was nervous to tell you…didn’t want to turn you away.”
Jennette placed her arms around Shawn. “Turn me away? No…that was way too fun.
Shawn was hungry for more. “Do it again…?”
Jennette smiled, as they locked lips passionately.

It had been a particularly boring day thus far I had to say. I was sipping coffee and eating the stereotypical donut from a local shop as a letter slipped across my desk. It was a beautiful vibrant red and just merry. It was quite a jolly envelope to say the least. Wonder filled my mind as to who on the force actually had bothered to give everyone Christmas Cards. Money said it was Gilson. After all the man had just had a baby a few short months ago.

Taking a letter opener from the 'World's Best Dad' coffee cup on the corner of my desk I set about the task of seeing what this most likely ugly baby looked like. Imagine my confusion and surprise when I did not see a photo of some baby on fluffy white stuff with it's butt to be seen. No it was a generic Christmas card with a fat Santa on the cover. I pulled it from the cheerful envelope and opened the card to see who had thought of me.

"On the first day of Christmas~"

I slammed the letter down in a mixture of shock and rage. It was supposed to be over and done with. The countless holiday nights spent in rooms decorated with tinsel and intestine. Holiday Greetings written on walls in the blood of victims. These things were supposed to be over and gone. The Christmas Killer was supposed to be no more.

So just who the hell had grown the nerve of copying me?

Thank you!

Thank you for this prompt - I had fun!

Part 3

“Will everything stop interrupting me?!” shouted Selenica as she whirled, her sword raised in expectation of demons from the pit seeking to take advantage of her befuddlement. However what she found was a well-dressed man leading a horse and cart filled to the brim with parcels and boxes. He led the horse with one arm because one arm was unmistakably all he had but that wasn’t the only reason Selenica recognised him.

“Dr Aberforth?! What are you doing here? Get back, it’s not s-“

She was stunned as Mira pushed past her excitedly and rushed towards the man.

“Alby!”

“Hullo mum” The man said as he let go of the reins to grip her in a strong hug .

“Mum?!” said Selenica lowering the blade weakly.

“My beautiful boy!” Mira said cupping his face in her hands, he leaned forward obligingly before laughing and gesturing to the laden cart.

“A lot of this was in the waiting in the village post office for a while mum.”

“Then they’re supposed to leave a chit telling me to come pick it up! Oh I hope nothings gone off, didn’t expect this much company today would need feeding…

“They seem to be a wee bit afraid to come up here, last one who did said that he left a package with an unearthly odour-”

“Which is hardly a reason to leave Hallister’s Meady Cheesey Biannual Smorgasboard out in the open! The nerve, waste of the money you send me. I’ll unearthly that lazy lout well and good next time I see him.” Replied Mira irritably “Oh which reminds me Alby, there’s been a few accidents this morning, be a duck and help your mum. I’ll need to check everything is all here!”

Mira dove into the pile excitedly and sounds of her delighted inspection followed Alby as he walked up the path to Selenica

“Hello Captain, your wound is doing better I see.”

Selenica looked at him and looked the shaking cart behind him where a particularly thorough inspection of the most recent package of Spencer’s Prime Pickled Monthly Mountain Pork Mouthfuls was taking place.

“I know I know” Alby said raising his one hand “No place for someone her age but she doesn’t want to move to live with me in the city and go through the hassle of cancelling or redirecting the subscriptions she buys with the money I send her. Not what I had in mind of course but she’s happy.”

“Y-you’re the boy that was abducted?” said Selenica

“If that’s what you want to call it. Funny twitch you’ve got there…” said Alby giving her a once-over of professional concern.

“And what would you call it?”

“I’d call it a kind woman rescuing a boy abandoned in the woods who had the misfortune of being born …incomplete.” His eyes locked with hers as if daring her to deny such a thing happened. She did not. “I’d say she took him in, taught him everything she knew about healing so he’d be the kind of man who’d help others, say like a Knight-Captain who had recently been shot in her side…”

Selenica instinctively reached for her ribs

“…because the MOST important thing I’d have to tell you is that she taught him was that a hands not worth much if it doesn’t have the heart behind it to make the right choices” He finished looking at the Captain’s still drawn sword

Mortified, Selenica sheathed it and bowed slightly in apology “Alright, I see now. Save for her impressions which aren’t really her fault and maybe her expectations of a postal service, she’s a good person. Not a witch.”

“Oh I didn’t say that.” Alby grinned and looked behind her to a thin figure with strange head standing by the cart waiting patiently as Mira handed it more and more packages

“Alright Sam? When you’re done helping mum could I ask you to help us with the poor man in mum’s bog?”

The scarecrow waved

Part 2

Though clearly taken aback and not listening about her delivery woes, Mira had to admit the Knight-Captain rallied magnificently

“Do you deny that you loosed a hellhound on the unsuspecting allowing them to maul with fangs most grievous?”

A crash of metal followed by a sharp scream echoed from the woods to the east, Selenica whirled with one hand on her blade already eyeing the treeline. However, Mira was thinking.

“Don’t know nothing about no hellhounds but that does sound like the time the young Parish lad walked into the bear trap over there” Mira nodded absentmindedly in the direction of the noise which now also consisted of rather colourful cursing. “Was having a go for me beehives, his ma gave me a fine bushel of apples for good ointment on the sly. Poor lad was a bit embarrassed. Not that there’s shame in a tear or two, come near close to it myself not getting my regular delivery of Senor Diego’s Jalapeño Fuego monthly assortment.”

Selenica gawped at Mira as she searched the knights face for recognition of her missing goods in vain. The sound of summer cricket chirping mingled with a growing number of loud angry and pained noises in the background.

“Hellhound does sounds better” Mira added generously “Though in my opinion, if he wants that Miller girl to look sideways at him, he couldn’t go wrong with a nice Jar of Jarrod’s Specialty June Jam which makes me wonder if that’s where it’s got to, it being July and all. Look maybe you’ve SEEN someone carrying it this way abouts?”

“ Let me instead tell you of what I’ve heard dark mage! I heard with my own ears that you commanded plants to befuddle an innocent and the very earth to swallow him!”

From behind Mira’s hut came a splash and another scream swiftly followed by sounds of someone retching in disgust. Selenica put both hands on her sword while Mira turned to look in its direction with her head shaking.

“Lessee, that one sounds like Alan Shrike who was plenty befuddled before he got lost around these parts” Mira looked back at Selenica mimicking a bottle and a generous pour “Fell right into the old latrine pit, his poor wife was so embarrassed when she came to pick him up.”

“…What?”

“Not that it’s not embarrassing for me too mind! Just getting a bit on in years that’s all and can’t dig that pit too far or as deep as I used to…”

“…He said you …you forced fed him a diabolical potion that-“

“Southern Khastian Premium Oceloty Blend I’ll have you know! They only send it twice a year when it’s in season for their most valued members! ….though having a thought, it might explain the state of the latrin-”

Though not of the eldritch nature she expected, Selenica hurried to block that horror from the mind

“And I suppose that also explains your summoning of an unnatural malignant spindly wooden beast from thin air to c-…”

Selenica’s words faded as she followed Mira’s look towards a nearby small cornfield in the middle of which stood a large scarecrow. They were just in time to hear a crash of metal near it and to watch it tumble onto something. You could tell because it also screamed. Selenica did not lower her sword but closed her eyes and waited.

“John Jessup came for me corn in the dead of the night a few months ago.” Mira said almost apologetically but not without some pride “Why wouldn’t he? Grew them from Habner’s Homegrown Scientifically Proven Produce Catalogue last summer. They do grow very well with a bit of coaxing but the stalks make it a bit difficult to see poor Scarecrow Sam and well, I haven’t quite fixed him right from last time.”

“…and what of the boy? The one you stole years ago?”

That got Mira’s undivided attention. “What!?”

Selenica turned slowly ignoring the sounds of her companions and gripped her sword tightly with both hands. The point of her sword was as steadfast as her conviction.

“Ahhh no clever words this time? No easy answer? Of course, not when it’s a crime so foul. You cannot deny that you stole a child from these woods years ago. You cannot deny that no one in the village has seen him for many years. You cannot deny-“

“That would be me captain” called a deep voice behind her.

Part 1

The sound of hoofbeats came up the garden path. About time thought Mira, when a person pays for express delivery they don’t mean by the fastest snail available. She opened the door full of words that had been building since the last time the postman had come and gone leaving her last package at the end of the path. Might have not found it either if he hadn’t run off shouting something about demons loud enough to wake her from her nap.

However, what words she had vanished as she regarded the figure standing at her doorstep glinting in the summer sun. The rider’s stallion had the well-groomed white sheen and regal trappings to make her feel both deeply conscious about her earth-stained clothes and wind-tussled gray hair as well as furious that she was comparing herself to a horse. The rider, a young woman clad in polished black armour slipped magnificently from the horse’s back, tossing her own long golden plaid behind her and casting a glance around the small garden before looking back at Mira with discerning green eyes.

One hand, Mira couldn’t help but notice as the unarmed often do, rested casually on the edge of a fine black long sword. The kind of casual that suggests the person whom has the stabbing option available to her doesn’t think the potential stabee is worth the effort…yet.

Ok, perhaps being judgemental this early in the morning. Maybe this was part of the premium service? If so, Mira was still annoyed but very impressed.

“I don’t suppose, you’d be express delivering a certain Champion Charles’ Choice Charcuterie Crate of the month club?” Mira asked hopefully.

The rider reached into the horse’s saddlebag and pulled out a weathered brown scroll.

Please be asking for a signature upon reciept, signature upon reciept, big truffle big truffle…

“I, Calvary Knight-Captain Selenica of Avalyn, have undertaken the quest-“

To deliver a certain cheeseboard of immense variety? though Mira, bludgeoning unmistakable reality with valiant but impotent hope.

“- to free these woods this day from the influence of-“

The pangs of a monotonous menu? Her stomach rallied in self-serving suggestion. Living off the land is well and good but it’s not a sane person’s first choice.

“-the dark crone who has rumoured to have held captive an innocent boy and the surrounding townsfolk in her fearful sway.”

With that, the now almost definitely not postal courier, flourished the unravelling scroll in her direction .

“If you are she, then today is that day! What say you?!”

Mira stared feeling something was expected of her but not knowing what exactly she considered the scroll that fluttered gainfully in the warm breeze. Selenica of what’s it’s face, clearly not expecting this, stood there obliging her awkwardly.

Mira sighed with relief and stepped back.

“Gosh, had me worried for a minute there. No.”

“…What?”

“That’s not me. Definitely not. Don’t look like that at all. Terribly sorry, but also - you wouldn’t happen to be some kind of premium delivery service would you?”

“Don’t look lik-“

The rider snatched back the scroll and perused it, glancing up at Mira who chewed her hair and was doing her best to not rudely look over the various saddle bags on the horse

“See you now here, this is most certainly you!” Selenica said thrusting the sheet back in Mira’s face.

“Is not!” Mira snapped back. She noticed a full-visored helm on her visitor’s saddle. Ah maybe a vision problem? Poor duck “Nose is too long, got all me teeth, a very involved daily skin care regime thank you very much and haven’t had a wart since that one spring where that maple tree with the bees and didn’t clean it right. Still, can’t complain as it made an interesting blend of syrup which would go a treat with Munster’s Sumptuous Artisanal Sourdough hamper for the Discerning Connoisseur if you’d happen to have it on your person?”

“Your trickery will not dissuade us from our reward sorceress!”

“I never! Don’t have to when people who have decided what they want to believe do most of the tricking themselves. But why ask too many questions for that kind of money?” Mira squinted at the weathered paper “Though you’d think if they were offering that much they could use a new piece of paper instead of keeping on crossing it out on the same one all the time…”

This is the perfect ending. 10/10.

perfect just perfect

I remember the first time I died, I was an old man of 60 years. It was during the late 1500s and the plague was raging across the land. Dying felt like falling asleep but when I woke there was a strange robed man standing before me and in his outstretched hand was a coin.

"Greetings mortal" he said in a raspy voice. "I am death."

"Oh..." I said. I wasn't too surprised, I had been sick with the plague after all. "So am I off to my heavenly reward then? Or was I not good enough?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." he replied. "It depends on your luck."

I was never what anyone would call lucky so I didn't get my hopes up.

"I will toss this coin into the air and you will guess what side lands face up. If you guess correctly, you will return to the land of the living at the age of your choosing. Choose incorrectly and I will take you to your afterlife."

"Alright, I choose heads" I replied.

"Of course you can choose not to wager" he continued.

"No, I'll try it. Heads please" I answered.

The coin floated up in the air spinning and catching the light. When it fell to the ground I saw it was heads facing up.

"You win mortal. I will return you to the world. What age do you wish to be?"

I thought for a moment and then decided on the age of 17. It was a good age I thought, for I was still young and strong.

"Done." he said. And once again I fell asleep. When I awoke I was in a strange place and for a moment I thought maybe it was a dream. But after getting to my feet I realized that things were different. The chronic pain in my back and shoulders was gone and the skin of my arms was firm as it was in my youth. I ventured out into the world to forge a new life for myself.

And a good life it was! The plague had ended and a new age of prosperity was to follow. I met a comely young lass and married her, and she gave me several fine sons. All was well and this time around I lived to be 70. Once again I awoke to see the strange man before me.

"Greetings mortal." he said. "Care to try again?" he asked holding up the coin.

"Oh hello again!" I replied. "Yes, I'll play."

With that he tossed the coin and this time I chose tails.

"You win again" he said "What age do you want to be?"

I replied that 17 was a good starting point for me last time, so I would choose it again. And with that I again woke in a strange place, my youth restored. But things were not as well this time around. There was a war brewing and the local lord had drafted all of the young men to be soldiers. I didn't last too terribly long, about a year later I was grievously wounded in battle and once more I awoke to death and his coin.

Another coin toss, another lucky guess. Death looked mildly annoyed but honored his bet. This time I chose the age of 30. Too old to be cannon fodder, yet still young enough to enjoy life. I met and married another woman, and started a successful business as a shop owner. My new wife did not give me any more children and worse still, she was unfaithful. This time my death was from syphilis.

When I woke death was before me yet again. Gone were the tattered robes, now he was wearing a frock coat with lace cuffs and white stockings. Again he offered the coin.

"I remind you that you don't have to guess" he said "Your last two lives weren't exactly the best."

"Heads." I said.

"Very well." And I won yet again.

I decided to return to my childhood this time, choosing the age of 5. Too young for war or women I thought, and this time around my life was largely uneventful. I was neither rich nor poor and avoided illness and war. I met my demise by a blow to my head from slipping on the wet cobblestones after an evening at the tavern.

When I saw death again he looked visibly annoyed and tried once more to talk me out of playing, but I cut him short and said I would guess tails. He tossed the coin and again I won. I chose the age of 20 and once more I woke in my new body. I decided to go to the new world across the sea, unfortunately my ship sank during the voyage.

I saw death several more times over the years, and each time I won the coin toss. Some of my lives were longer than others, and some of my deaths more tragic, but by then I was enthralled with the many changes that had taken place in the world. Life was in many ways easier than they were in my original time, but no less perilous. Over the centuries I have had several wives and multitudes of children. I once served in the military with my own great grandson from one of my former lives. It was hard not to tell him who I was, but the last time I made that mistake I was burned as a witch so I kept silent.

I've lost count of how many times I've won the coin toss, but the last few times I noticed that death was becoming increasingly upset when he saw me. My last win he let loose with a torrent of expletives and sent me on my way. It's been a little over 500 years, some of them good and some bad - but the only constant has been death. I've started to consider him a friend and I feel bad that I'm making him upset.

So this time I've decided not to play.

The survivor hid in the bunker as the trucks ran across the road. The loud noises of erratic yelling and the occasional gun shot keeping any and all sane people in their basements.

As for the survivor, she hid in the bunker she built. Despite what everyone said, she constructed this concrete safe house herself. Even after all of the comments, the crazy names people started calling her, she didn't stop.

"You'll see, and when everything comes crashing down I'll be the one who's still standing!" She'd always say this with a smile as they scoffed and demanded she stop.

But here she is, 4 months into the fall of society, still alive, but feeling some remorse about how she acted before.

"Those people weren't wrong to think this was crazy, but...they also weren't right to treat me that way" she said to herself.

"But still, after all the comments, the lost friends, and especially the hard work and money I put into this, I think it's worth it. I mean look, I'm still alive... talking to myself, but alive."

The survivor laughed at herself quietly as she spoke to herself. It was strange, after all that time those comments became almost her fuel. People doubting her became some sort of reason to keep going, but what now?

It's like that metaphor about life. The one about getting to the other side of the tunnel. Only thing is, what do you do when you actually get to the other side?

It's not like survival was a problem. Those crazy people who just want to pillage can only last so long on the food they scavenge. Not to mention that those people that actually fire back at the raiders.

It really can't be long before those raiders decide that the risk of dying isn't worth it. Then they'll turn to farming and more peaceful matters. Maybe then people can trust each other enough to get along amd work together.

The survivor walked through the concrete hall over to the garden room. The crops are doing amazing, and it seems that those raiders (or anyone else really) still haven't figured out that the solar panels on the roof of the house actually put out their power down here.

Beans, tomatoes, and potatoes. Not the widest variety but certainly some food that is easy and good. Being underground also has it's advantages in water collection. Survival here is almost too easy.

Too easy...

The survivor then goes over to her sleeping room and begins to write in her journal

Several days have passed. The cold is unreal. Of all the cold Decembers that all of this had to happen it just had to be this one!

Oh well, I still have two more books left before I run out. I really underestimated how bored people get when they have nothing to do but make sure some plants are still alive (which takes all of 20 minutes) and make sure they eat and drink enough.

I'd kill for a movie or something! A comedy show would be insane right now. But of course, nothing here but the books from my house...and technically the library. Can't really return those anymore I guess.

The journal goes on listing all of the modern comforts that the survivor missed. The things ranged from fruit punch and chocolate to being able to just go outside because you wanted to.

A few nights later.

Heavy gunfire rings through the night, waking up anyone and everyone around. The survivor immediately grabs her pistol and hides by the entrance to her bunker.

The gunfire stops pretty quickly. There weren't any sounds of trucks or cars screeching out in the streets. Did somebody actually win? Are the raiders gone?

She steeled her nervous mind and decided that of there was no more gunfire through the night, she'd take her first step outside in months. She can't pass up the chance that someone survived, that someone survived.

She went to the entrance the next morning. Not a sound was heard after the initial fight. So like she told herself, she was going to check, just to make sure.

As she opened the hatch, the grass that had grown over it ripped apart. The light blinded her, the smell of the grass and flowers pleasantly bombarded her nose, and the sound of birds chirping had never been so dearly welcomed.

She looked around in amazement as she looked at what her yard had turned into. Her fence had been knocked over, which was lame, but more noticeable than that was that there were flowers everywhere.

She smiled brightly at the flowers, there were bees buzzing gently from flower to flower, birds chirping in the branches of the tree in her backyard. It was beautiful, after the crushing loneliness of being in the bunker, she could hardly believe what she was seeing.

She spent another minute gazing at the flowers before being startled by the sound of footsteps. The survivor quickly turned and aimed her pistol at the source of the sound only to be even more surprised as she saw an older man, a woman and what appeared to be a young child very heavily wrapped in a blanket in the woman's arms.

The survivor lowered her gun as she stared at the group. "Who are you three?"

The man and the woman looked at each other before speaking. The woman nodded and looked at the survivor, "We're just a few survivors from some raider attacks. None of us really know each other, but after a fight broke out last night we decided to look around and see who else might be out here."

The survivor blinked and processed what the woman had said. "So, there was a fight last night, and you decided to go out and look for other survivors? If that's true, then why the old man? Why the baby? This hardly seems like a search group of proper makeup."

The man stepped up as the woman turned her head away at the questions, "We're all that left."

The survivor looked at the three. They can't be raiders, no way an old dude and a baby were ever gonna be raiders. But is this really all that's left? How many people died last night?

The survivor took a deep breath. Well, if they aren't raiders, and they're telling the truth, then what should I do? I guess I should help them. Is there really another choice?

The survivor looked at the three people, "Do y'all like potatoes?"

Please report this type of thing when you see it.

“72201, your sustenance is at the top of the steps.” I called out as I closed the door. Footsteps begin across the basement floor, finally making their way up the stairs. I hear the fork jostle against the edge of the plate as the thing descends to its pile of blankets.

A knock on the door of the basement is how I know meal time has been completed. I open the door and see the shadow moving away from the steps. “Plate retrieved 72201” I call out. Garbled inhuman noises is the only response.

A minute later my phone buzzes. “I have a name” reads the text. I reply back “now you know how I felt when you guys quarantined me in the basement for Covid. Turn about is fair play.”

Based on a true and currently active story.

I call Heads as the coin is falling slowly, it hits the ground for a second I thought it was all over Death looks up and says, "once again, when do you desire?" I answer 12, I choose that year every time and every time I end up dying, I continue to choose this age because that is the year my father forced me to start training to reach my goals. The first time I was presented with this choice I was dumb and I chose to be a knight, I thoughts this would bring me glory and honor but soon I learned their is no honor in war, only blood, steel, and death. All men die eventually, I remember thinking to myself the first time death held me in his grasp. Every time I die, Librarian book shelves. Farmer starvation. This time I am ready.

"Son." "Yes, Father." "What do you want to be?" "Father, could I be a scholar." "Yes my son." For the next three years I dedicated myself to my studies. When the time came I made my way to the capital on my way there a pair thieves stopped me and started to rob me when they were done they slit my throat.

"You, again. How can one human be so lucky and unlucky at the same time." I begin flipping the coin and call heads and I'm just hoping this misery can end."

"Finally, you're journey has come to this."

"Finally."