r/shortstories • u/FyeNite • 6d ago
[Serial Sunday] Show me Your Zeal!
Welcome to Serial Sunday!
To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I post a theme to inspire you, along with a related image and song. You have 500 - 1000 words to write your installment. You can jump in at any time; writing for previous weeks’ is not necessary in order to join. After you’ve posted, come back and provide feedback for at least 1 other writer on the thread. Please be sure to read the entire post for a full list of rules.
This Week’s Theme is Zeal! This is a REQUIREMENT for participation. See rules about missing this requirement.**
[Image]()
Bonus Word List (each included word is worth 5 pts) - You must list which words you included at the end of your story (or write ‘none’).
- Xenial
- Yarrow
- Zone
- Somebody sleeps through a loud event. - (Worth 10 points)
This week we’ll be focusing on enthusiasm, interest and confidence. Do you have a character that believes wholeheartedly in a particular aim? How far have they gone to manifest their goal, and what are they willing to do to make it happen?
How do other characters react to them, do they rally behind the cause and work towards it, or disagree and seek to sabotage? One thing to note about this theme is that it doesn’t specify morality. Your focus of Zeal doesn’t have to be good, and the quest not necessarily just. Who knows, this week may be the debut of your big bad litch that wants to end the world!
Tell me about i!
Good luck and Good Words!
These are just a few things to get you started. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. For the bonus words (not required), you may change the tense, but the base word should remain the same. Please remember that STORIES MUST FOLLOW ALL SUBREDDIT CONTENT RULES. Interested in writing the theme blurb for the coming week? DM me on Reddit or Discord!
Don’t forget to sign up for Saturday Campfire here! We start at 5pm BSTand provide live feedback!
Theme Schedule:
This is the theme schedule for the next month! These are provided so that you can plan ahead, but you may not begin writing for a given theme until that week’s post goes live.
October 11 - Zeal
October 18 - Angst
October 25 - Burn
November 1 - Cacophany
November 8 - Diabolical
Check out previous themes here.
Rankings
Last Week: Waver
First - by u/Morose_Prose
Second - by u/KatPoker666
Third - by u/Divayth--Fyr
Fourth - u/AGuyLikeThat
Fifth - by u/JKHmattox
Rules & How to Participate
Please read and follow all the rules listed below. This feature has requirements for amparticipation!
Submit a story inspired by the weekly theme, written by you and set in your self-established universe that is 500 - 1000 words. No fanfics and no content created or altered by AI. (Use wordcounter.net to check your wordcount.) Stories should be posted as a top-level comment below. Please include a link to your chapter index or your last chapter at the end.
Your chapter must be submitted by Saturday at 2:00pm BST. Late entries will be disqualified. All submissions should be given (at least) a basic editing pass before being posted!
Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). When our bot is back up and running, this will allow it to recognize your pmserial and add each chapter to the SerSun catalog. Do not include anything in the brackets you don’t want in your title. (Please note: You must use this same title every week.)
Do not pre-write your serial. You’re welcome to do outlining and planning for your serial, but chapters should not be pre-written. All submissions should be written for this post, specifically.
Only one active serial per author at a time. This does not apply to serials written outside of Serial Sunday.
All Serial Sunday authors must leave feedback on at least one story on the thread each week. The feedback should be actionable and also include something the author has done well. When you include something the author should improve on, provide an example! You have until Saturday at 04:59am BST to post your feedback. (Submitting late is not an exception to this rule.)
Missing your feedback requirement two or more consecutive weeks will disqualify you from rankings and Campfire readings the following week. If it becomes a habit, you may be asked to move your serial to the sub instead.
Serials must abide by subreddit content rules. You can view a full list of rules here. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, please modmail and ask!
Weekly Campfires & Voting:
On Saturdays at 5pm BST, I host a Serial Sunday Campfire in our Discord’s Voice Lounge (every other week is now hosted by u/FyeNite). Join us to read your story aloud, hear others, and exchange feedback. We have a great time! You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Grab the “Serial Sunday” role on the Discord to get notified before it starts. After you’ve submitted your chapter, you can sign up here - this guarantees your reading slot! You can still join if you haven’t signed up, but your reading slot isn’t guaranteed.
Nominations for your favorite stories can be submitted with this form. The form is open on Saturdays from 5:30pm to 04:59am BST. You do not have to participate to make nominations!
Authors who complete their Serial Sunday serials with at least 12 installments, can host a SerialWorm in our Discord’s Voice Lounge, where you read aloud your finished and edited serials. Celebrate your accomplishment! Authors are eligible for this only if they have followed the weekly feedback requirement (and all other post rules). Visit us on the Discord for more information.
Ranking System
Rankings are determined by the following point structure.
| TASK | POINTS | ADDITIONAL NOTES |
|---|---|---|
| Use of weekly theme | 75 pts | Theme should be present, but the interpretation is up to you! |
| Including the bonus words | 5 pts each (15 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and estnot required! |
| Including the bonus constraint | 15 (15 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and not required! |
| Actionable Feedback | 5 - 15 pts each (60 pt. max)* | This includes thread and campfire critiques. (15 pt crits are those that go above & beyond.) |
| Nominations your story receives | 10 - 60 pts | 1st place - 60, 2nd place - 50, 3rd place - 40, 4th place - 30, 5th place - 20 / Regular Nominations - 10 |
| Voting for others | 15 pts | You can now vote for up to 10 stories each week! |
You are still required to leave at least 1 actionable feedback comment on the thread every week that you submit. This should include at least one specific thing the author has done well and one that could be improved. *Please remember that interacting with a story is not the same as providing feedback.** Low-effort crits will not receive credit.
Subreddit News
- Join our Discord to chat with other authors and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly World-Building interviews and several other fun events!
- Try your hand at micro-fic on Micro Monday!
- Did you know you can post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday? Check out this post to learn more!
- Interested in being a part of our team? Apply to be a mod!
8
u/Divayth--Fyr 6d ago edited 14h ago
<The Broken God>
Chapter 84: Needs Must
.
Cresting a round, green hill under a round, green sun, Mrs. Gimple stopped to kick a tree, wondering if every last glob of mud in the world was stuck to her boots. I may be nigh-invisible, but tracking me would be easy as soup. Starting out just after the storms ended had made the long journey longer, but finally she could see Obbleton.
The village, sprawled over the next hill, didn’t look quite right. She couldn’t say just why, but it didn’t.
She bore a fat, gold ring and a thin, silver one. She’d asked for one, but that cantankerous old revenant had offered two, and an amulet besides. They provided a solid stream of magic, and a bit of healing and energy, and that was nice to have of a chilly morning.
The amulet made her movements all but silent, and her voice as well. A ways back, she’d sneezed not four paces from a sleeping squirrel and it hadn't even budged.
Wizard foolishness, trapping god-gifted magic in rings and such—and not even her gods. Menkle-something, and what was it? Alabastard? Foreign nonsense. Why not sensible god-names, like Fiergon, or Varsh Vorin?
Down the hill she trudged, listening to the birds of home. There was a nice snap in the air, and a light sprinkle of color amongst the green leaves. Winter would come creeping along soon enough, but for now it was just good walking weather—apart from the mud.
It’d been a hard business, leaving. Leaving Gorthag, in particular, but she knew she’d also miss Durash. And Sancaurion, too, maybe a little. Tears had been shed, but needs must. That was the life of a witch, in short. Needs must. You did what you had to do, and hoped for the best.
Picking her way from grass to stone, she navigated the dip between hills, but still got into some muck. The next rise wasn't too far, now.
Folks thought witching was all glamorous mystery and spells, or ominous chanting, turning people into frogs and whatnot. Mrs. Gimple snorted silently. There wasn’t much glamour in lancing boils, nor in concocting and applying medicaments for the belsy, the maidenhoots, or arsegripe. Being out at midnight, cold, tired, and elbow-deep in a birthing ox, was not conducive to chanting, ominous nor otherwise.
There stood Old Burgle House, at long last. Mrs. Gimple stopped short and stared.
A fresh grave, and a new stone.
She nodded. Old Mother Dimley was gone. One hundred and fifteen years, and it still seemed too soon. Surely she was favored of Fiergon, Blessed now at the Center of the Wheel, all suffering finished.
I won't get to talk with her now.
Mrs. Gimple couldn’t go on. Couldn’t see where to go, anyhow. She pulled a kerchief from her sleeve and mopped at her face.
It was only a few days ago, wasn’t it? Maybe a year or two since young Avi Malumsecuro had stood in that parlor, scared half to pieces while Mother Dimley peppered her with sharp questions. She could still smell the sharp liniments and boiling cabbage.
I’m sorry I missed your funeral, Mother Dimley. You know how it is. Needs must.
Mrs. Aviarina Gimple was a woman of faith, and made no apologies for it, though others might scoff. The gods got up to some absurd nonsense, it was true, but her devotion was not dependent on their wisdom or grace. She’d lost husbands, children, and friends. Her faith had brung her through it all, and she would hold to it now.
She dried her face, muttered a prayer, and walked on.
Entering Burgle House, she sat down on a bench to take off her boots.
“Mrs. Gimple! Good to see you. Or see your muddy bootmarks, anyhow,” came the voice of Sister Imprudence Bugley. A good witch, if a mite strange, and just a few years younger than she.
“Ah, of course.” Mrs. Gimple dispersed the spell of hiding. “Good to be seen, I suppose.”
Sister Bugley just stared quizzically.
Cursed thing. Mrs. Gimple removed the silencing amulet, stowing it in a pocket.
“I say, good to be seen.”
“Well, what is that? An amulet? And rings? Where’s your staff and sparkly hat?”
“Don’t you start in. I needed help, is all.”
“From your elven… friend?”
Mrs. Gimple looked askance at her sister witch.
“Yes, from my elven friend, and his orc friends, and a bright blue four-armed wizard who lives on Kolobor and eats rocks. Can you help me with this boot? It’s stuck.”
Imprudence prudently hushed up and knelt down to help just as Daft Ellie Wizzle came up, banging her cane on the walls and floor. She could see just fine, but sometimes forgot to open her eyes. Tall and thin as a whiplarch, she sort of staggered about but never quite fell over.
Living with Sister Bugley and still being known as the daft one was quite an accomplishment.
“Hello, Avi. I’m sorry,” Daft Ellie said quietly. “I guess you know, Mother Dimley died. Just last Vorinsday. So she isn’t alive any more. I like biscuits, don't I?”
“Yes. I wish I’d come sooner.”
“I got wet tears in my breakfast. There’s strange things going on. Gracious pickles, yes,” Ellie continued. “A lot of dark tall fat priests, and one calling himself Seeker Krove came along, and he has a large nose and kills people.”
“My word.”
“We’ve been trying to figure out what to do,” said Imprudence. “Catillary, too. She’s in the valley. Should be back today.
“They’re preaching day and night about heresy, abomination, confess, confess. Folks here are scared. Well, mostly. That nasty old Elda Hoop is positively thrilled, and some folks are tattling on their neighbors. Settling old scores, you know.”
Mrs. Gimple went and slumped into a parlor chair. “Give me a moment, would you, sisters? And might I trouble you for some bog-yarrow tea? This is turning into a very long day.”
I wish I’d come sooner. But, needs must.
1000 words. Yarrow used. Sneezed loudly near a squirrel.
Feedback welcome.
3
u/Brookzerker 2d ago
I love the focus on Mrs Gimple, and based on what we hear I'm hoping for a solo adventure.
Something that dropped me out of the story was how she was greeted entering the house before de-activating her hiding spell. Either it wasn't working as well as it should have, or she could have turned it off before entering. Or we could have fun like with the silence artifact, where she's wondering why nobody can see her easily.
Either way, good words, and can't wait for the next chapter!
3
u/Divayth--Fyr 1d ago
Hey Brook!
Yeah, in my mind they could see her muddy bootprints but, as usual, I forgot to mention that to the reader lol.
I think I sort of fixed it. Thanks for reading and helping!
3
u/JKHmattox 1d ago edited 9h ago
Hey Div,
So the crowd favorite gets her chapter, dare I say whole arc if we're negotiating ;-)
You write Mrs. Simple so well. She is such a counterbalance to the rest of the cast of characters and this difference I think makes her all the more memorable. That notwithstanding, we see she has her own internal view of the world and thinks not much differently than anybody would irl.
I must say the ending is ominous as hell, and bone chilling. This is such a paradox. What do genuinely good people do in the face of such evil. The pitting of neighbor against neighbor is absolutely timeless. So human indeed. No society is immune to such tyranny. None.
Prophetic words as always Div. Please dont harm Mrs. Simple. Good words!!!!
3
u/Divayth--Fyr 9h ago
Well I appreciate the compliment but I am Div actually lolz
Yeah she is a counterbalance, a voice of reason at least in most things. I partly started her own POV because she is popular, but mainly because there are some things only she can show, and they are important things, ideas and attitudes the others lack.
Thanks for reading!
3
u/JKHmattox 9h ago
Omg what the heck is with my phone. Sorry about that Div. How the hell did ai call you Wiz. Maybe because you are also a word wizard, just like Wiz. Idk.
3
u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1 23h ago
Hey Div! This is a lovely and sad chapter. Mrs. Gimple is so resilient, her and her witch sisters. I love seeing them show up for each other, and each of their distinct personalities. I& have immediately taken a shine to Ellie. And they'll certainly need each other with all they're dealing with. Seems like Mother Dimley's absence has taken away a real protection from this town :(
- "and a bright blue four-armed wizard who lives on Kolobor and eats rocks" lolll
Love the "needs must" refrain. We love a refrain, and I think this one's effective here, something Mrs. Gimple repeats to herself. Like this consistent mantra of hers. And then ending the chapter on it right next to "I wish I'd come sooner", ow lol
It's hard to find any crit tbh. We found this tiny bit: "that was nice to have of a chilly morning" feels like it should be "on" instead of "of"
Good words!
3
u/Divayth--Fyr 9h ago
Hey Tom's!
That refrain just sort of happened, and made so much sense for her. Easiest time I've ever had with a chapter title.
'of a chilly morning' is legit regional dialect. I thought it was more Kentucky, but google tells me it's old English and Irish too. (I didn't know it was proper dialect till I just now looked it up, it just sounds right to my ear for some reason)
Anyhow, thanks for reading, and I am glad you liked it. (JK particularly liked the four-armed blue wizard too lol)
4
u/ZLErikson 6d ago
<Casting Shadows>
Chapter 148
CW: Violence, blood
Kebb stared at the charging horsemen. They emerged from the setting sun, making a mockery of the High Priestess’s holy light.
How could so many come together out here in the middle of nowhere? Halfway between two settlements… there was nothing to sustain them. Yet they approached with such wrath and vitality.
Clutching his torch, Kebb looked into its flame and prayed for Helen to intervene. To rain fire down upon their aggressors. They were here on a holy mission; to deliver the head of Helen’s fallen foe as a message.
Glaukos lacked his normal xenial attitude and fired an arrow, and Kebb did not blame him.
He would not be stopped by mere bandits. Helen had delivered him from bondage before, she would not allow the shackles of mortal men to harness him again.
She acted through Glaukos’s arrow; it arced through the air, killing one and scattering the rest.
A shout of pain drew Kebb’s attention. Kher was upending his stew into the fire. Smoke erupted, choking out the light and the air. Kebb coughed at the part-alluring, part-acrid stench. He wheeled and ran to escape it.
He reached for his belt, looking for a knife, feeling blindly as his eyes struggled in the smoke. The empty loop for his torch, already in hand. The pouch with his incense: yarrow, myrrh, and other such ingredients. The leather-bound handle he sought.
Kebb drew the knife. He looked back by the fire and saw Nuu on the ground. Unconscious? He was probably safer to sleep through this.
Someone bumped against his shoulder.
“Let’s go!” Glaukos yelled over the thunderous sounds of hooves and confused shouting. He fired an arrow past Kebb. It struck a Vulture between the eyes, making him fall over.
Anatu emerged from the smoke, coughing roughly. Glaukos grabbed them by the arm. The safe-zone Kher’s sacrifice made would not last long.
He followed Glaukos’s lead, staying close behind Anatu. The three of them stopped at a collapsed tent; one not yet rolled up for transport.
“Down!” Glaukos yelled, aiming an arrow.
Kebb dropped as it was loosed.
A horse whinnied behind him.
A man fell to the ground with a Shennese curse.
Kebb turned, ready to use his knife to finish the bandit off, but Mica was already atop him with a short sword pieced through his chest.
Pushing himself up from the sand, Kebb looked for Glaukos and Anatu. They were gone. So was Mica.
Kebb was not alone; an unhorsed bandit approached him with a sword drawn.
“On your knees!” he yelled in Sammosan. “You’re worth more with all your limbs!”
Kebb backed away, looking for someone - anyone - for help.
All he saw was Kher on the ground, riddled with arrows. His stomach flipped. Kher was one of the few who actually joined him in prayer. How could Helen have allowed such a fate to befall him?
“Fine then,” the Vulture said, rushing Kebb. “You’ll be worth enough without your arm.”
“Ahh!” Kebb panicked. He stabbed out with his knife but the bandit smacked it away with his longsword. The man swung his free hand and caught Kebb in the jaw, sending him spinning.
Kebb fell to his knees.
The bandit kicked him in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him.
“And stay down.”
Kebb tried to get back up but the Vulture flourished his sword and left a long cut down Kebb’s left arm.
He struggled to breathe as the man reached for him. He swung his torch, and almost missed, but the other man’s attempt to deflect it with his weapon brought it directly into the bandit’s face.
The Vulture howled with pain, dropping his sword and clutching at his face. He fell backward.
The torch guttered and threatened to go out, but remained lit. Helen was with him.
Another braying horse. Kebb looked up and saw several Vultures rallying together, spears and swords drawn and pointed.
But not at him.
A roar that shook Kebb to his bones erupted from a nearby dune top. He saw a black smear of stars against the orange-and-purple sunset.
Cassandra, Helen’s shadow, had returned.
----------
WC: 689/1000
All crit/feedback welcome!
r/ZLErikson
[Chapter Index]
Notes:
- Theme: Kebb’s zealous belief in Helen persists
- Bonus words: Yarrow, zone, xenial
- Bonus constraint: Kebb thinks Nuu is asleep
- Recommend any new readers use the linked chapter index above; those chapters receive more edits than the ones in past sersun posts
- It has been 14 in-universe days since Chapter 1
2
u/AGuyLikeThat 22h ago
Hiya Zach!
Ngl, I was kinda hoping Kebb was gonna buy the farm. In my defense, the guy is a bit of a jerk. Which also makes him good to have around from a narrative standpoint, I suppose. ;)
You definitely kept me guessing though, and the scene was very tense, with a great ending. Good stuff!
Crit time.
The sentence structure and punctuation are at odds here;
Halfway between two settlements… there was nothing to sustain them.
You can probably see that clearly now that its out of context here. I'd remove the elipsis, or maybe replace it with either a comma or a semicolon, and then a conjuction like 'but'.
This sentence stands out as quite flat and 'telling'.
It struck a Vulture between the eyes, making him fall over.
How does Kebb know they are 'Vultures'? If there is some way he could recognise or identify them, I'd suggest mentioning it earlier - in the initial charge. You've got plenty of words - so I'll also suggest a bit more of a descriptive phrase for the takedown.
The shaft sprouted from between the eyes of the closest bandit, showering his face with tears of blood as he crumpled forward.
Typo here;
Kebb turned, ready to use his knife to finish the bandit off, but Mica was already atop him with a short sword pieced through his chest.
I'd suggest making the tableau a bit clearer by saying "...with her sword thrust through...
Three is the charm today.
Looking forward to seeing Cass unleashing some Angst next week...
Good words!
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u/JKHmattox 5d ago edited 12h ago
No Man's Land> Redemption
A gurgled squelch reverberated inside me. The muddled reverberations from my guts echoed against swollen eardrums reeling from the gunfire. My breath hitched. Something shifted internally when I forced air into my lungs.
Despite my guttural tribulations, I kept the rifle tight against my shoulder, while advancing awkwardly down the alleyway. Less agile and slower, a newfound vulnerability gnawed at my consciousness. The agent trailed behind, Keran slung over his shoulder as he half-carried Lexi with his opposite arms. The hybrid man groaned with effort, yet pushed forward without words.
Reaching the speak-easy entrance, Colin swiped his wrist across the door controls. The display flashed red, an artificial female voice denying us entry. He cursed, adjusting his grip on Lexi.
I scanned the concrete canyon as he tried again. After a third attempt, he kicked at the door. It didn't budge.
“You got a plan B?” I shouted, my ears overwhelmed by a dull whooshing in sync with my tandem heartbeats.
“Yeah,” he replied, grimacing. “Just pray somebody answers the door at this hour.”
Colin motioned towards the end of the alleyway shuttered by a black metal fence. He carried the two women as I followed him towards what appeared to be a dead end. When we reached the metal-slatted barrier, more gunfire crackled behind us.
“Bullocks!” he exclaimed, shaking the locked gate.
I patted his shoulder, moving him to the side. Raising my weapon, I blasted the lock apart. Hinges groaned as the door swung outwards. Relieved, we spilled onto the sidewalk beyond the alleyway.
Colin pointed to a stone building across the street. Dim streetlights illuminated a dozen steps leading to massive, wooden doors. A steeple disappeared upward into the murky darkness devoid of stars.
“There!” he growled.
An energy bolt whizzed past my ear.
It struck a vehicle across the road, lighting its cabin upholstery on fire. I wheeled around, fighting for balance. Three gunmen had pursued us into the alley, opening fire twenty meters away from the forced-open gate.
Leveling the rifle, I shouted at Colin, while pulling the weapon tight against my shoulder.
“GO!”
I squeezed the trigger and the night erupted in a blaze of twelve-point-seven-millimeter slugs.
Muzzle flashes cast long shadows down the cavern of concrete. I leaned into the recoil, my feet wider than normal to maintain the awkward balance. Screaming profanities, the men dove for cover. Sparks and debris showered them as they took refuge behind waste units on either side of the urban canyon.
“Come get some, motherfuckers!” I roared, pumping suppressive fire into the confined space.
Spent shells clattered against the pavement at my feet. A man howled. I broke contact, scrambling across the avenue.
My lungs burned from their limited capacity. Stumbling, I nearly dropped my weapon as the weight of my stomach pulled me forward. I gasped as a popping scrunch churned my insides upward against my diaphragm.
My body seemed completely against me.
Everything moved differently. Everything. My legs were unstable, like the ligaments and tendons lacing my muscles to my frame were blown out. The increased weight of my middle slammed against my pelvis with every stride. A knee twisted and I yelped. My leg buckled. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to hobble forward, despite my tandem hearts beating against my ribcage.
Reaching the steps of the stone building, I gasped, holding myself up by a railing. The gunfire had died. Aside from my ragged breaths, the night grew eerily quiet.
Too quiet.
My eyes darted from building to building, checking every window, door, or rooftop for threats. None emerged. For a moment, I was a statue perched atop the stone steps. Desperate breathing and a rushing pulse filled my eardrums with physical tension.
Movement caught my eye.
A fluttering news drone appeared just above the roofline across the avenue. It hovered for a second, its camera gimbal pointed in our direction. I raised my weapon, dispatching the drone with a single shot.
“Da fuck!” Colin shouted in Gemini. “Check your fires!”
“Just denying information to the enemy,” I responded.
“Bloody hell—this isn't a fucking war zone!”
“It is now…”
“Jesus Christ, woman—you sound like my mum!”
Shaking his head, Colin turned to try the massive wooden doors. They were locked. He pounded against them as I remained vigilant at the base of the steps.
“C'mon Padre!” He muttered in Gemini. “I need a fucking miracle—where the hell are you!”
Two gunmen emerged from the unlocked gate at the end of the alleyway. They honed in on the cathedral, firing several bolts from their energy weapons. I returned fire, the low ammo indicator flashing atop my weapon. Plasmid rounds smacked against stone laid in place before the interstellar age. Their impacts left glowing craters which faded in the wake of every shot.
A lucid calm settled over me, feet planted solid on the ground. My breathing slowed. Seven rounds remained in the hundred-round magazine. The men advanced across the street as I waited.
My heartbeats grew still as time elongated. The sight reticle settled on the chest of the leading man, his energy rifle raising to fire. Exhaling, I squeezed the trigger and he tumbled, his weapon clattering beneath him.
Six rounds.
“Dispatch, this is Blackthorn!” Colin spoke urgently into his communication device. “Shots fired, multiple agents down!—We're holed up at the Gemini Cathedral at Amsterdam and one-thirteenth, over!”
The remaining gunman's body flickered. Vanishing suddenly, he reappeared seconds later, meters away on my left. Stunned, I blinked, his weapon whining and crackling as I lurched to face him. He aimed his Kirkin-array at my head, the depths of its snout-like barrel glowing as it charged.
“JACKIE!” Lexi shouted.
Three shots barked from over my shoulder, the man crumpling at my feet.
My head snapped towards Colin pounding against the doors at the top of the steps. On his shoulder, Karen grasped her pistol with shaking hands. Smoke rose from its muzzle, illuminated by the faint light of the cathedral entrance.
3
u/Divayth--Fyr 4d ago
Hey hey JK
Some high-tension action going on in this one. Lots of details and blocking to attend to, and you made all that flow well. I knew who was who and where they were and why the whole time, which is not easy to get across without a map, so that was well done.
I wheel around, fighting for balance.
a tense-shift there
opening fire twenty meters from the forced-open gate.
I wasn't sure if they were behind or past the gate from this
while pulling the weapon tight against shoulder.
missing 'her'
firing several bolts from their enemy weapons.
not sure why I need to know what side the weapons are on, there
the low ammo indicator flashing on the top of my weapon.
this could end at 'flashing' and the reader can assume the rest
in the hundred rounds magazine.
probably hundred-round (singular, and hyphenated)
multiple agents down!—We're holed-up
I don't think 'holed up' gets a hyphen. Also, you don't really need the emdash, as you can just make it two sentences.
Anyhow, the ending was cool as heck. Sort of subtle there, showing the door was open. It really pulled me into wanting to know what and who is in there and what is going to happen next. Good words!
3
u/JKHmattox 4d ago
Hey Div,
Thanks for the excellent crit, looks like I got some editing to do.
A bit of research went into this chapter if you can imagine. Hopefully the internal challenges faced by Jackie come across well clashed with the chaos swirling around her. My goal was to show Jackie shifting from an experienced combat soldier, to an uncertain new mom who must consider more than just herself in an extraordinary situation.
This was one of the biggest reasons she is willing to retreat from the gunfire, instead of her normal mode of aggression tought to her by Diane Campbell. Colin too prioritizes getting Jackie out of harms way over rejoining the gunfire between the Marshald and the bad guys. We'll see what happens once Colin has extracted them from immediate danger. I have a few idea how Jackie might react to being told to stand down and stay outta the fight.
As always, thanks for reading Div. I appreciate you.
3
u/AmeliaLP 10h ago
Hi Jk, I enjoyed the chapter. There was some really fun dialogue this week. Good words.
1
u/JKHmattox 4h ago
Hey Amelia, Glad you enjoyed the chapter this week. Thank you so much for reading and commenting, I appreciate it! 😀
5
u/MaxStickies 5d ago
<Thosius>
Chapter 148: Gathering Herbs
A cloud passes over a heat hazed patchwork of fields and villages, just north of the waterfall and its temple. Zoned out and back bent, Thosius grabs a handful of weeds by the roadside, examining the flowers with tired eyes. He licks his lips, thinking.
Three petals, purple, long anthers. Nope, not yarrow.
He lobs the plants over his shoulders, stepping further into the overgrown bank. A thick yew hedge blocks the sun, hampering his work, yet each step out of the shadows leaves him glad for the shade.
His hand brushes some nettles, the stinging hairs causing him no pain. He frowns.
Hmm… didn’t break the skin? Or the venom didn’t work? Interesting.
“Work any slower and you may well be sleeping, old man.”
Thosius grunts, smirks, and looks behind him to find Ithanos. The young man stands in the middle of the cobbled road, one hand full of red-flowered plants and a few spiky bulbs in the other.
“Is that yarrow?” the soldier asks, clambering down the bank.
“It is. Know you were meant to find it, but I got the burdock quick and thought, eh, why not? Means we can head back sooner.”
“Good man. But how’d you find it? I’ve been searching for hours.”
Ithanos arches a brow. “Under the yew bush, or elsewhere?”
“Mostly here, yeah.”
“In the shade?”
“Yeah… ah. I see.”
“Right. I found these in the middle of a field. Thought the farmer’d give me trouble but saw he was fast asleep by his house. Slipped, fell and swore one point, not far from his porch, and he kept on snoring.”
Chuckling, Thosius grabs the yarrow, and gazes across the landscape. Farmland extends for as far as the eye can see, except for towards the east; there, a forest climbs up a low hill.
“Alright, well, thank you for getting these. Let’s head that way for the last thing.”
“But the falls are back that way,” Ithanos points back down the road.
“Yes, but we need dragon’s head mushrooms.”
“We do?”
“Yeah… were you not listening?”
The young man works his jaw. “Rhothanas said for you to get yarrow, and me to get burdock. And then I left.”
“After which, he said for whoever is quickest to get the mushrooms.”
“Well, I didn’t know!”
“You do now. So how about I be more observant, and you listen properly, from now on?”
“Fine. I promise I will.”
“Then as will I. And stop calling me “old man”. I’m not that much older.”
“So what is your age?”
“I… look, I can’t remember, just drop it.”
“Well, then, you could be—”
“The less we argue, the quicker we get back.”
“Argh, fine!”
The heady scent of decay hangs over the forest, as they step between the trees. Rotten logs rest against their living brethren, pools of days-old rain in their collapsed pulp. A centipede drops from above, crawling along Thosius’s arm; levelling his hand, he watches it find its way between his hairs.
Lost little thing, aren’t you?
“Ew,” Ithanos says.
“What? Not like it can harm me.”
“I guess. What these mushrooms look like, anyway?”
“L—like a dragon’s head.”
“Yeah, but what colour? Do they grow in groups, or separate?”
“He didn’t say. Red, maybe?”
“Oh, that fucking monk! Alright, I’ll look for red then!”
“You go do that.”
Stomping through the leaf litter, Ithanos grabs a log with both hands and groans, tearing it in two with a loud crack. A grub flies through the air towards Thosius, and he bats it away.
“Carefully,” he says.
“No, you be careful, old man!”
Sighing, the soldier glances up to the canopy. The rays of the setting sun pass through the leaves, cut into thin strands that dapple the ground. Birds and squirrels leap between the branches, casting shadows greater than themselves, making the forest dance.
He breathes in the loam-scented air, and smiles.
“I’ll need to go back to the city, some point soon,” he says, receiving a grunt in reply. “But once everything’s dealt with, I reckon I’d like to live out here. In the countryside.”
“Uh huh?”
“Spent some time in places like this, while in the army. Well, not as long as my mind made it seem—they weren’t my real memories, the older ones—but still, nothing quite like running through the forests, alongside fields. You still smell shit, like in Thanet, but somehow it feels… cleaner.”
“And you’re telling me because…?”
“Have you thought about where you want to go? What you wish to do?”
“Not living with you.”
Thosius throws a glare Ithanos’s way. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Alright, calm down.” the young man says, striking a log against a tree trunk. “No, I haven’t thought. I guess I’ll just stay with you, Rhothanas and Hemalus until I figure something out. Sound good?”
“Of course, if that’s what you want.”
“Yeah. Can I get back to it?”
“Sure.”
Shaking his head, Thosius turns, and spots a blob on a high bough. He squints, spotting what appear to be teeth.
He bends his legs and leaps, catching himself before he falls, the tree swaying. By digging his fingers into the bark, he clambers on, soon within reach of the strange mushroom. He plucks it free of the wood, grinning to himself.
“How in the gods did you get up there?!” Ithanos calls, eyes wide.
“I’ve done my fair share of climbing.”
“What, in Thanet?”
“Amongst other places.” He jumps, landing with an immense thump, with no pain. “It is easier these days, I’ll admit.”
“Can you teach me?”
“What, like an apprentice?”
The young man grimaces. “Like a friend, maybe?”
“If you accept that you’re my apprentice, I’ll gladly tutor you.”
“No.”
Laughing, Thosius pats him on the back, stashing the mushroom in his Ithanos’s bag. “As a friend, then. But perhaps when Hemalus is awake, and things have calmed down. Deal?”
“Deal.”
They shake hands, heading deeper into the forest, hunting fungi.
Context:
Thosius mentions climbing in Thanet, which he did when climbing across rooftops with Falthus in Chapters 53 and 54.
WC: 1000
Bonus words: yarrow, zone(d). Bonus constraint: Ithanos mentions tripping and swearing near a sleeping farmer, who does not wake.
Crit and feedback are welcome.
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u/ZLErikson 5d ago
Howdy Max!
Wooo! Chapter 148! We're same-chapter-number-buddies :D
And this week we're back to the titular Thosius himself, out here picking flowers and having a lovely time of it. Just vibing. Lush, moisturized, focus, in his lane. Love to see it for the lad.
I just know you're gonna ruin the moment.
I had to google "anthers" cuz I had no idea what this was. I love learning new things!
Three petals, purple, long anthers. Nope, not yarrow.
With everything Thosius has been through - including literal biological transformations - I think nettles not hurting him is one of the less interesting things to notice :P
I think there needs to be a comma after "plants" here because "a few spiky bulbs in the other" counts as a full sentence, which makes this "and" a conjunction:
one hand full of red-flowered plants and a few spiky bulbs in the other.
I like the indirect way Ithanos answers Thosius's question, and how that made me, the reader, realize the answer in time with the character. Well done directing my mindset there.
This got a good chuckle out of me:
“Then as will I. And stop calling me “old man”. I’m not that much older.”
“So what is your age?”
“I… look, I can’t remember, just drop it.”
The shift from the pleasant meadowy area to the rotten logs was a bit of a shocker. It's a good shock though; a strong juxtaposition.
His lack of fear of the centipede seems slightly at-odds with how "interesting" he found the lack of effect from the nettle. Either he's super confident that his imperviousness to venom extends to both plants and insects or he's already tested a centipede bite before and the nettle test was a mere accident.
Ithanos's good humor from before seems to be gone by now as he's clearly very irritable. Though I don't blame him; looking for "a red mushroom" in a forest is gonna be an ordeal. Probably the second most common color for them!
I like Ithanos's polite-yet-curt replies to Thosius as the latter waxes poetic about the future and retirement. Ithanos doesn't care one bit, and that feels so realistic to me. If I were out in the forest looking for mushrooms when I didn't want to be, the last thing I'd want is to have a chit-chat with the other guy who doesn't seem nearly as aggitated with the situation.
These two are a fun dynamic:
“Can you teach me?”
“What, like an apprentice?”
The young man grimaces. “Like a friend, maybe?”
“If you accept that you’re my apprentice, I’ll gladly tutor you.”
“No.”
Love the way they get under each other's skin in a good-mannered way.
Good words!
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u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1 3d ago
<Drifting>
Chapter 112
Charlotte.
It isn’t just Charlotte he remembers. It’s everything. Not everything—not really—but a million things. Enough.
Abigail’s still standing there so he mutters out a noncommittal reply and lowers his head. He can’t focus on her right now. He can’t bear what is real, what he’s realized.
He’s crazy, of course. He must be. And the thought doesn’t make it any less real, the selves less separate, the conflict less persistent, the care less felt. Care. What a strange thing, to have care pointed inward while still pointing out, pointed inside towards another.
“Are you sure you don’t need acetaminophen?” Daze’s voice cuts in and his face drains. He can be seen. They can be seen. Have been. Will be. And with this barrier to memory, he can’t even know it all, can’t prevent it, can’t protect from the knowing. From being known. Being known as crazy. Not as caring, that’s a feeling, that’s inside. Outside is different. Outside is Daze. Abigail. Mom and dad and Caleb’s parents, and—Caleb.
Charles pulls out his phone and calls Caleb. And then he looks at it. And he can’t breathe. He hangs up. Caleb calls back. He can’t breathe. He denies the call. And he can’t breathe, and the shakiness worms its way up into his head until he’s squinting behind his eyes and nothing feels quite right and Abigail is saying “Char” again but he’s not Char, he’s Charles, and oh god they’re different people. Different something, anyway, and he can’t breathe, and she can’t see him like this so he runs. Runs away. Out through the lobby and out the front doors and out through the parking lot and out onto the sidewalk and stop. Stop here. No going further. He won’t go into the street. He won’t let him.
Gasping breaths, frantic tears, clutching a dress he shouldn’t be wearing. The feeling won’t cease. It’s somewhere in the squint of his brow, somewhere drowning his mind, somewhere in the pressure over his skull. His face and hands get pins and needles.
It’s all over.
Another shuddering sob. What’s over, he can’t tell. Nothing’s okay anymore. Maybe it will be. His chest hurts. This can’t be happening. Frozen by the knowing. He can’t breathe. It hurts.
He never should have left home. He’s losing control. And they wouldn’t help him now. No, he can never show his face around his parents again. Was he doomed from the start? Could he never have been the son he was supposed to be? They wouldn’t ever accept Charlotte as their daughter. He should be happy she has the chance to be here.
Charles lifts his phone. A text from Caleb: are you okay?. No. But he can’t know. Nobody can know. Even Charles couldn’t know.
You know now. Maybe we all will. Then we can work together.
He can’t stop shaking.
Breathe.
He breathes.
Good. Keep breathing.
He keeps breathing.
You got this. You’re okay.
He’s breathing. He’s okay.
Charles wipes his face with the back of his hand. “Thank you,” he whispers. He places his phone back in his pocket. The air is cold upon his tear-streaked skin and he closes his eyes, feels the hair blow against his forehead, the dress around his legs. If he still lived with his parents, he’d have to hide this. He’d have real reason to panic.
But they’re not home anymore.
He turns around and walks back inside, where Abigail is waiting for him in the lobby. “You okay? What’s going on?”
The lump in his throat will swallow words into sobs. He shrugs.
“Did something happen with Lia and Tessa May?”
He shakes his head, blinks away the storm. “No. They’re fine.” This isn’t their fault.
“Okay. Why don’t we go get you something to drink?” She gestures for him to follow. For a moment, he half-believes she’ll take his hand like a child, but she just walks off toward the food table, trusting him to walk behind. He follows.
As they approach, Charles sees Daze standing at the end, picking out pieces of fruit to place in a paper bowl. Fae turns. “Hey, it’s you again. You’re back. I never got your name.”
“Charles. And uh, she’s Abigail.”
“Oh, I got hers.” Fae grins. “I take it you’re doing better?”
“Mm.” He pours himself a lemonade. Up on the stage is a doctor with a horse head, costume covered in cutouts and crimson splatters. He tilts his head to see better. “She being chased?”
“By zebras.” Daze doesn’t look up. Fae is inspecting a strawberry.
“A zeal of zebras!” Abigail exclaims. “That’s their group noun.”
“Not a herd?”
“Not if you wanna be fun.”
Now that he knows what he’s looking for, he sees them: people painted in zebra stripes, crawling over each other around the stage. They contort their bodies, bending joints backward—he winces—and reaching for the horse-doctor’s legs. “I definitely missed something. Why zebras?”
“They were her patients.” Daze reaches for a grape, then pulls faer hand away. Not that one, apparently. “Doctors have this saying, ‘when you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.’ Those of us with rare diseases,” fae lifts a crutch, “we’re the zebras.”
Like Caleb.
They’ll have to talk to Caleb eventually. Charles doesn’t even know where to begin. He can’t worry about it right now. But the worry has already wormed its way into his chest again, staked a place between his brows. Ugh. He’s not even supposed to be standing here. He’s supposed to be sitting with Terry May and Cecelia, watching the show together. The show he’s so far been missing.
“How bad’s the makeup?” Charles asks Abigail. “Do I need to wash my face?”
“I’ll go get your makeup bag from the car, it’s got cleanser in it.”
They wave goodbye to Daze and he waits for Abigail in the lobby. While there, he glances back at the table of pronoun pins. Charles grabs one of each. Just in case.
For the others.
WC: 999 words
Bonus: none
8
u/Brookzerker 2d ago
<The Veiled Eye>
Chapter 9
The darkness of the forest gave way, as the SUV entered a suburban neighborhood.
Logan started looking for an open store. In his mind, a supermarket would be perfect, they tended to have large parking lots with plenty of dark spots he could use.
The few stores he passed weren't large though, more importantly, they were brightly lit and clean.
Finally, he found a store, and while it wasn't large enough to warrant a huge parking lot, there was one area shrouded in darkness from a broken light. He pulled in to the darkest section, then stared into nothingness as he turned off the car.
"Logan, you okay?" The voice was significantly stronger than it had been before.
He flinched, looking left, then right, expecting to see Darryl, or Connor approaching.
Several cars drove past, headlights briefly illuminating the area.
Nobody was there. Logan released his breath, which he hadn't noticed he was holding. His hands shook.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Just a bit spooked." He looked around again. "You feeling better?"
"Yeah, cold though."
He turned around and looked at Lilly properly. She was still lying face down across the backseats. Her jeans were the only real clothing that she had anymore, her shirt had been shredded, baring most of her back to the cool air.
"Oh, fuck, I forgot you didn't have — hold on." He stepped out of the car, taking off his jacket, along with his long sleeve shirt under, leaving himself wearing a t-shirt. Opening the back doors, he placed the clothing over her. They helped cover the chains and cuffs as well. "Sorry, I forgot you were uncovered. Is that better?"
"Yeah, much." Her head stayed face down. "The iron's the only thing still burning."
Leaning down, Logan touched the metal against one of her wrists, it was cold to the touch.
"It's cold." He touched her wrist. "Oh, you're burning hot." Some of the night returned to him. "The poison!"
"Logan."
He stepped back, looking left and right down the road. "I don't think we passed a hospital, maybe one is close by?"
"Logan."
"Oh, I could go in and ask them to tell me where one is, though what if they don't speak English? I don't have my phone to translate."
"LOGAN."
He turned to stare at Lilly.
"I'm fine, the poison was short acting. I don't need to go to the hospital."
"But…"
"No — hospital."
"But…"
"Logan, shut up and listen to me. You are going to get me captured, and yourself killed."
He stared at her.
"Better, I have many questions, but first things first. Do we have any money, cash? Credit Cards? Gold?"
The engineer checked his pockets, he didn't have anything. "No?"
She sighed again. "Check the car, the glove box, any pockets, maybe Erik and Grandpa left something for us."
He nodded, before remembering she couldn't see him properly. "Yes, I'll check."
The car had a lot of stuff in it, the kind that showed someone spent a lot of time in the car. He found Eric's wallet, with a few credit cards, school id, and some money.
"Found some, not sure how much this is all together. Cash is a mix of US, and other currencies. No gold though. There is a credit card, but wouldn't that be fraud?"
"That might be enough, at least for one night."
Logan frowned. "Wait, shouldn't we be going to the police? If we tell them what happened they could go get our stuff and we could get a place to stay."
"No." She took a deep breath, then continued with a softer voice. "No, we can't go to the police or anyone associated with any government. Not while I'm — like this."
He looked at her again. "Wait, weren't you covered in blood before? Where did it go?" He lifted the jacket over her back. Her skin was blood-free.
"Logan, listen to me. You're a smart guy, but still human. You assumed there would be blood, and therefore saw blood. You forgot about the blood, and now you don't see it."
"No, I didn't think I saw blood. You were covered in it. It was soaking the seats!"
"Connor cut some things off me, but the wounds are cauterized. I'm healthier than you, at least I should be."
Logan stared at her. "Uh."
"How did you fight off the poison? I'm immune to most toxins, and resistant to spiritual venom, and this still paralyzed me. But you carried me out. A human shouldn't have been able to handle that."
"Darryl said I got a lighter dose? Or something like that."
"A lighter anvil on the head would still crush you. That doesn't explain anything. How did you shake off the poison?"
Logan paused, how did he? He vaguely remembered a dream, he had seen his wife. Did she reach out from heaven to help him? She said something about willpower being all he needed.
"I focused really hard? I guess I used willpower to overcome it?"
"That's not how poisons work, you can't just use will…" She trailed off for a moment. "Unless — damn, I can swear I remember reading something about willpower, or something like that. But those were before my time. How old are you? Be honest, I can smell when you lie."
"forty four?"
"What color is my skin?"
"I don't know, a bit more tanned than me? What kind of questions…"
"Someone's coming." Lilly hissed.
Logan turned, he hadn't heard any footsteps yet, but true to her warning, a young man, wearing a uniform matching the colors of the store banner, was moving towards them.
Notes:
Theme: despite being chained and unable to move, Lilly speaks with confidence and authority.
Word count: 941
Words: No words
I tried to focus on slowing things down greatly since the last few chapters have been way too fast. Question: Is this still too fast of a chapter?
7
u/AmeliaLP 1d ago edited 10h ago
<My feathery friend>
Chapter 40: The big man in charge
As she entered the house Jade tried to close the door gently but her grasp slacked and her grip loosened, causing the door to swing away.
WHAM! It slammed shut.
“Who the ruddy hell is making so much noise at this hour?!”
“Harold calm down, you’re giving me a headache.”
“I’m giving you a headache? What about the stupid banging sound just now?”
“If it’s that annoying, then go check it out...”
“I will!”
Jade heard her dad’s heavy footsteps slamming down on the stairs.
“Right who the heck is do- Jade...”
“Hi Dad.”
“Don’t. You. Hi dad. Me!”
“Uh.”
“You’ve been gone for days! No phone calls! Not even a bloody text! You’re mothers been worried sick!”
Jade stared at her dad.
Oh, so mum’s been worried sick huh? Of course that’s the only reason he cares.
“Jade, stop ignoring me! What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m going to my room.”
“I- fine yes! Go to your room and don’t come out again till I say!”
“I am going. But it’s because I WANT TO.”
She stormed off upstairs.
Harold stomped his foot. “Urgh!”
That ungrateful little shit! All these years we’ve raised her, fed her, taken care of her and THIS is how she acts? Wandering off like that and not even apologising. I’ve been too lenient with her! She needs reminding of how things are meant to be!
Harold violently pounded his fist into the wall.
She needs to know I’m in charge here!
He cracked his knuckles before starting the assent back upstairs. Retching the door open he saw his wife sleeping peacefully again.
Huh. All that yelling yet she’s still able to rest, it’s kinda impressive. I wish I knew how to be as chill as her.
He gently stroked her hair.
God she looks so cute when she sleeps.
Harold sighed.
Fuck! I just know we’re going to argue tomorrow. Jade will whine about how I was acting and Maria will take her side. As if I’m the bad guy just for being a parent. I don’t wanna argue with them but sometimes things need to be said. Why does Jade never listen? She must know I only want what’s best for us right?
He scratched his cheek.
The little brat. I do love her though, in spite it all. She’s just, so much some times. All I’m asking is for her to follow orders, what’s so bad about that?
Maria reached her arms out, grasping at the empty bed space beside her. “H-harold?” Her eyes slowly opened. “Who was at the door honey?”
“Huh?” Harold grunted. “Oh, uh it was nobody.”
“Nobody? Then why was there a loud bang?
“It was just the wind dear.”
“Oh.” She replied sadly. “I guess I just hoped it might of been J-“ She started weeping softly.
Harold put an arm around her. “Maria, it’s okay. I’m here.”
She grasped his torso tightly. “T-thank you Harold.”
“We’ll find her eventually.”
“Hmm.”
“We will! Don’t lose faith okay?”
“Sure, whatever you say honey...”
“For now.” He took a deep breath in. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”
“Ya. Good idea.”
Kissing her forehead, he pulled the warm, soft blanket over Maria. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Harold causally flicked the bedside light off, engulfing them in darkness.
Down the hall, Jade lay awake in her room.
I half expected this from dad, but where is mum? I assumed she’d be bombarding me with affection by now.
She rolled over.
Do either of them actually care? Dad just got mad and mum isn’t even here. And where’s Joe? I don’t see or hear him anywhere.
Something small and round caught Jade’s attention.
Huh, what’s this?
She moved closer to inspect it. Jade picked up the orb, chucking it against a wall. Thick smoke filled the air, catching in her lungs, making her cough.
What the hell! Who put a smoke bomb in my room?
Holding her hand to her face, Jade left her room, shutting the clouds of smoke within.
Who do I know that would even use these? Too chaotic to be dad. I don’t think Will is smart enough to make them, neither could he afford to buy any. Hmm. Oh. Olfara! Okay, I think I’ve figured out the who, but what about the why?
Beep! Beep! Beep! BEEEEEEP!
Ah shit. I’ve set off the smoke detector!
“More bloody noise!” Harold roared.
“Honey! I think it’s the smoke detector!”
“My gawd, you’re right!”
Jade heard her dad running towards Will’s room.
“Boy, get up now!”
“Wha?”
“The house is on fire!”
“Oh shit!”
Jade saw her dad and brother sprinting past. As her mum ran through she locked eyes with Jade.
“Jade?”
“Oh, hi mum.”
“But when- ah, never mind! Just run!”
Jade started walking slowly.
“Faster!” Her mum shrieked, while grabbing Jade’s arm.
She was yanked quickly along the corridor and dragged down the stairs.
“Right!” Bellowed Harold. “One! Two Three!”
“Four.” Maria pointed at Jade.
“Huh? Ohhh, look who’s finally shown up!”
“Harold. She was in the house.”
“Errr.”
“You lied to me!”
“Well ya see- the thing is- Uh.”
“Yes?”
“Boy! Help me out here!”
“You’re on your own with this one dad.”
“Hah! I, love you.”
“Not the time for it Harold. I was beside myself with worry and you let me believe Jade was still missing.”
“Yes but-“
“How long has this charade been going for?”
“Only tonight, I swear!”
She looked deep into his eyes. “Hmm. I believe you.”
“Then, we’re good right?”
“No.” She laughed coldly. “We certainly are not.” Maria turned her back on him.
Harold glared at Jade.
She did this. She’s ruined everything!
WC: 945
Bonus constraint: Maria sleeps through Harolds tantrum.
5
u/mysteryrouge 12h ago
I see a fight brewing between mom and dad...
Nice to see Jade return home, though with a fire alarm going off, fighting parents, and no Joe, is this even a good thing?
I like the perspective from the dad, though I do think the thoughts should have stuck to either Jade or dad. I noticed some Jade thoughts at the beginning and some in the middle.
Jade saw her Dad and Brother
Dad and brother don't need to be capitalized since the a) have names and b) you don't use that styling for Jade's mum in the next sentence.
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5
u/Carrieka23 1d ago
<The Beginning of The Demon Life>
Chapter 193
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Max requested one rule for Alex throughout this wedding ritual, never get involved. Don’t touch them, don’t say anything, try not to react too much when the ritual begins. He didn’t particularly tell the soldier what to expect, but he made it very clear to not do anything.
Alex stands at the doorway, watching the two people in front of him getting ready for their ceremony.
“Ready?” Max asks.
Haru nods, taking off his shirt before sitting down.
The dragon closes his eyes and begins mumbling. Slowly, the symbol below them begins glowing. First blue, then red, then black. So far, the two demons have been fine.
Haru lets out a groan, sweat slowly forming on his forehead as he grits his teeth slightly.
Max continues, coughing up some blood.
What is happening?! I don’t see anything. How are they both feeling pain?
The symbol glows brighter, slowly revealing the truth. The two souls are slowly linking together. It started off small, but the energy slowly increased over time. Then it begins.
Haru lets out a scream, gritting his teeth before completely falling over, blood dripping from eyes. Max kneels down, breathing heavily and coughing up more blood, but still continues the spell.
Alex's feet twitch, he tries to stay where he is.
“N-Now…we both…shall become…one!” Max shouts, slamming his fist to the middle of the circle. In an instant, the bright light surrounds the two demons, the force of the power knocks Alex out.
The soldier groans, squinting his eyes. He couldn’t see the two couples well, but he knows both of them are now knocked out.
S-Shit, are they alive?!
—
“Very bold of you to do this, Dilong.” A voice echos.
Max slowly opened his eyes. The area in front of him is full of flowing buildings, trees wrapping around to make it stable. The breeze is gentle yet eerie. Some animals walk around the dragon before stopping.
“Mark, or should I say, Horatius. Been a while.”
Horatius walks to him, THEIR long white hair and golden ticking eyes stare at him. THEY sigh before giving him a grin.
“You know, only half of us keep this a secret. Especially for weddings. So, who’s the lucky person?”
“Haru. I want us to be linked as one.”
The God nods. “As expected. You both are close after all, I just knew you’d do this at some point. However, soul-linking? Not the normal traditional marriage?”
“You and I both know that he is just a normal demon. I’m an immoral dragon.”
“That’s what we thought also…then us Gods and your brother died during the war. You can even die at some point, Dilong. Making Haru immoral will only kill him in the future.”
“So you are doubting my survival skills.”
Horatius sighs, shaking THEIR head. “No. I am only saying, if I let you complete this ritual, and you die in the future, he’ll be all alone. Y’all souls are connected, but you know how Kronadus is.”
“All life’s have a meaning. Even if Death takes away, someone will carry on that legacy.”
Dilong closes his eyes. “Aren’t you and Evan the same? You still love him, even though he’s a demon.”
Horatius opens THEIR mouth but stops.
“You know at some point he’ll die, and you’ll be by yourself again. But you still decided to run with it.”
“I know, but—”
“I’m not here to critize you.” Dilong says, walking towards the God. “But what I am saying is, me and Hary want to be together forever, even with the risks. So, let us get this chance.”
Horatius closes THEIR eyes, turning away from the dragon. “You better hope nothing happens to both you and him.” THEY lift THEIR arms, the ground begins glowing. “You have my blessing.”
—
The symbol changes to blue again. Alex slowly stands up, feeling the wind slowing down. After a while, the color slowly vanishes, and begins viewing the two demons. Both of them are knocked out, dried blood surronding the two.
Oh no! There’s no way they’re…
He wants to take a step forward, but he knows the ritual ain’t done yet. Not until Max tells him that it is. So, he waited…waited…
A twitch on Haru’s finger. Then, a little groan. Max slowly began breathing, opening his eyes.
“M-Max…? Haru?” Alex whispers.
Slowly, the two demons stand up. The soldier notices that Haru now has both a horn and tail, and his eyes are glowing.
“The ritual is complete.” Max says, smiling.
------
WPC: 750
2
u/MaxStickies 19h ago
Hey Haru, really like the chapter! My god, the ritual was harrowing, was honestly concerned they'd not survive; I'm very glad they did, I'm quite invested in them, as you can imagine. There's some very good blocking and dramatic moments in the ritual too, each paragraph bringing in something new and shocking, building up the tension until they all pass out.
The switch in POV works really well, as it gives us a more interesting and revealing angle than Alex could provide. Great to see Mark/Horatius again after so long, and it makes sense it'd be THEM, both due in terms of THEIR power and the fact THEIR relationship mirrors Haru and Max's in a lot of ways. I thought the conversation between them was very good too, and taps into what we've learned of the world, and the gods and dragons. Really liked that!
As I say, so glad they survived, and Haru's got new horns and a tail to play with. I imagine some new, custom clothes may be in order.
Far as crit, I have some line edit suggestions:
watching the two people in front of him getting ready for their ceremony.
Since you use "ready" right after this, I'd replace "getting ready" with "preparing".
Haru lets out a scream, gritting his teeth before completely falling over
As you already have Haru gritting his teeth earlier, you could simplify this to "Haru lets out a scream, and falls,".
The soldier groans, squinting his eyes. He couldn’t see the two couples well, but he knows both of them are now knocked out.
"squinting" without "his eyes" here, since squinting always involves the eyes. Also, for present tense, "couldn't" should be "can't".
Max slowly opened his eyes.
"opens".
I’m an immoral dragon.
Making Haru immoral will only kill him in the future
"immortal" instead of "immoral" for both of these.
All life’s have a meaning.
"lives" instead of "life's" here.
me and Hary want to be together forever
"Haru" instead of "Hary", unless that's intentional? Maybe a nickname?
Alex slowly stands up, feeling the wind slowing down. After a while, the color slowly vanishes
There's a bit of repetition with "slow" words here. You could instead have "the wind dying down/calming." and "the color gradually disappears."
So, he waited…waited…
"he waits... waits...".
Max slowly began breathing, opening his eyes.
"Max begins to breathe" for present tense.
And that's all the crit I can find, great chapter Haru!
8
u/Morose_Prose 1d ago edited 11h ago
<The Family Business>
Chapter Twenty-Four: Off The Menu
Shelves packed with VHS tapes lined the walls of the back room of the wuguan, their yellowed labels struggled to stay adhered to the well-worn plastic of the alphabetically arranged assortment. A small bedroll was tucked into the corner next to a table cluttered with unopened takeout boxes that surrounded a small yarrow plant. The center of the room was dominated by a large CRT television, its screen frozen on a singular frame of a film Madelaine instantly recognized.
"How many times have you seen 'The Orphan'?" she asked while pulling the table in front of the TV, the aroma of a succulent Chinese meal filling her nostrils.
Cushions crashed onto the floor. Bo plopped down, sitting crossed-legged, still as a statue. "More times than you. Sit." Plucking two pairs of chopsticks from a brown paper bag, he popped open each of the boxes before handing over a set of sticks to Madelaine.
Taking a seat next to her teacher, Madelaine surveyed the smorgasbord in front of them. With the speed of a viper, she snatched a twine-wrapped leaf from a box in front of Bo. Bringing it to eye level, she examined the delectable delight. "Been a while since I had these." She glanced sideways, catching a small smile curling from Bo's lips.
"You still remember the first time you had them?"
Steam emanated from the zongzi between the sticks, filling Madelaine's mind with memories of the past and whisking her back to that fateful day.
Servers hustled to and fro across the busy restaurant floor, stacks of steamers piled high on trays and arms as food was delivered to locals and tourists alike. Madelaine watched with rapt attention as her father, Maximo, hungrily eyed each of the dishes passing by their table; his wide neck and broad shoulders twisting and turning to track where each of the servers ended up.
"What the hell are these people ordering? I didn't see none of that on the menu," he grumbled.
Peering over the rim of her porcelain teacup, Madelaine's mother, Marquesa, slowly shook her head. "Probably a hidden menu for those that speak the language, Maxxy. I have tried to teach you."
"I already speak three languages: English, Italian, and the language of the streets. Got no more room up here for anotha." Maximo's eyes tracked another target passing by the table. "That's just fucking leaves, what could that even be?"
Madelaine rose from her chair, tapping her father on the shoulder and pointing to the table where the mystery dish was deposited. "We could go ask the man about to eat it."
Clinking porcelain stopped the conversation before it could continue further. Marquesa nervously tapped her finger on the edge of her cup. Her deep blue eyes glared across the table. "We should not bother people while they are trying to enjoy a meal."
A hearty laugh rumbled from Maximo as he stood up and removed the napkin from the collar of his olive-green tracksuit. "Not to sound stereotypically Italian, but, food brings us all together. Makes humanity more xenial to each other, provides a comfort zone so to speak. Come on, Maddy. Let's go make a friend."
Her father's massive hand engulfed Madelaine's diminutive one as the two strode across the restaurant. At the table sat a bald man dressed in a high collared black suit, the tips of his Fu Manchu scraping the small sliver of white peeking out above the black. Across from him sat a woman in a tight purple dress, her raven hair pulled into a tight bun. They glared at the intruders.
Maximo cleared his throat loudly and smiled. "Pardon the interruption. My name is Maximo and this is my little girl, Madelaine. She's six. We come here all the time, great fucking dumplings, but you two probably know that, um, I have to ask—what is that you are about to enjoy? Ain't ever seen nothin' like it. Do you eat the leaves?"
Confused gazes darted between the diners. Silence fell.
Tugging on her father's sleeve, Madelaine rose on her tiptoes to get closer to the mountain of a man's ear. "They might not know what you are saying, Pa."
The slap of Maximo's meaty hand against his forehead echoed throughout the restaurant, drawing irritated looks from nearby patrons. "Shit! Didn't account for that. Um, parli italiano?" he asked to no response. "Hey! Marqy! Get ova' here please! We need your linguistic expertise!" he bellowed.
Marquesa joined the family unit begrudgingly. She bowed to the still seated diners at the table and spoke in perfect Cantonese. Turning to her husband, she spoke in Italian. "They are enjoying Zongzi. It is not on the menu. Has to be specially ordered."
"Sounds delicious," Maximo licked his lips. He pulled out his wallet and peered inside. "Say that I'm willing to pay for their meal if they can teach me the secret menu here. I'll even leave the tip too."
Negotiations were short. "They said no," Marquesa reported.
"Maybe I should rephrase that. Say that I'm not here to cause trouble with the Triad. I just want some good food." Maximo's eyes drifted to the silver cufflinks on the man's suit adorned with the Triad's mark, Madelaine's eyes followed his.
Another round of discussion took place. "If they tell you, will you leave them alone?" Marquesa asked.
"We're in! No. Where's the fun in that? I'm going to grab our things and bring them over. I bet this secret menu is more extensive than they're letting on. Come on, sweetie, help Daddy for a minute." Maximo scooped Madelaine up with ease and returned to their original table. Placing one hand under it, he effortlessly brought it over, maneuvering it around the dining room floor without spilling or shifting any of the plates and cups on it.
Maximo plopped down next to the man. He winked at his wife. "Told ya, darling, food is a great road to friendship."
- - -
Thanks for reading! Feedback and crit is welcomed, and encouraged! No crit is too big nor too small, tear it apart, I can take it. Stay awesome and have a good one!
Theme: Maximo is zealous about good food.
Bonus Words Used: Xenial, yarrow, zone
Word Count: 996
5
u/AGuyLikeThat 23h ago edited 22h ago
<The Tower in the Tangle>
[Previous Chapter] [Chapter Index]
Chapter One-hundred & Sixty-seven: A Distant Sky.
~ Petal ~
CW: Gore and butchery.
It is well known that we Selvik disdain even short bouts of travel, and yet I do not regret my choice to transplant myself to the colonies in the slightest. In Levane, I was the third son of a lesser family, with neither land nor station to inherit, and my Talent was so negligible that I was of no use to my elder brothers.
Nevertheless, when I arrived in the Dusklands, the Governor’s office assigned me a small parcel of land near Port Darling, however I decided to use the small loan my family had extended me in order to settle further inland, purchasing a claim on acreage recently abandoned by the retreating Numani tribes.
That decision was fortuitous, for this zone of the frontier is either blessed by local spirits, or is a convergence of leylines. The native flora is unfamiliar and strange, but it bursts with wonderful vitality, and the very wind sings to me as it whistles through the tall trees. The skies are clean, and far brighter than those I knew on the other side of the Great Bridge.
And so, I sit upon my verandah, drinking gold-yarrow tea, and enjoying the heady perfume of the xenial blooms twined in the roof of my tree-thatched house, while the changing seasons bring warmer weather, and my Grove thrives. And I know that I shall never leave it.
- Journal of Evand ar’Selvik
Petal squeezes the precious pendant until her muscled forearm burns. The jewel’s reassuring warmth and steady pull have gone, replaced by cold, static indifference. No longer can she feel the subtle sense of direction dragging her hand.
What does it mean, that the necklace has become lifeless once more?
“Gilander.” she whispers.
The pressure holding her down is gone. Gritting her teeth against a rising tide of anxiety, the Akari opens her eyes.
Muddy water trickles between her knees, draining from the cold stone landing as Petal lifts her head to surveys the battlefield. Beside her, Moskoto drags himself painfully forward while tendrils of red-shot smoke constrict his movement. Doggedly, he persists, inching towards the gemlock rifle near the steps.
The distant, mournful cry of Currawong echoes for a moment longer, before it is swallowed by the thronging clouds, and Moskoto sags limp against the stone, his scarred fingers inches away from the gemlock rifle.
Twice, the song has broken through this unnatural storm.
Currawong is Moskoto’s totem. Samal’s too... Was the Old Man sending assistance from One-tree-hill? Perhaps the canny trickster simply sought to use them against a common enemy? But it seems even the great spirit is no match for the Mistress.
“Hah!” A grotesque creature seated in a many-legged machine leans over Thirno’s steaming body. “Such treasures they bring, my Queen!” the Overseer simpers, wiping acid from his purple lips as his long metal pincers reach down, cutting warped flesh. He lifts a severed arm—still twitching—into the air. “Look! Rife with persistent vitality!”
But the Mistress pays him no mind.
She hangs above them all, a raging sun of crimson void, burning the threads of the World as she draws on the infernal power of the Haiphagus. Wreathed in the coiling destruction of the abyss, with her radiant armour burning like the heart of a mountain, her golden eyes blazing with power to remake all She beholds.
The Warden is entombed, a dark star with the weight of a mountain, bound by the chains of his own magic, while She burns above them in a halo of inky flames. His obsidian spear has fallen. His arms are stretched wide and his back is arched, as a boiling tide of chaos envelops the man. Tendrils of etheric darkness radiate from him; a web of corruption, with its thickest strands binding his servants in turn.
“I see the cavity within you, Warden. And the walls you have forged to bind it.” Her interest has a piercing density that exposes the bones with his flesh. “So easy to complete the process. To bind you with a Wyldlord.” Her wild laughter sets the clouds alight, as fresh torrents of crimson lightning dance between the four horns of the Tower.
The storm howls, rattling the skeletal trees that screen the Tower. Bolts of electric violence illuminate the twisting maelstrom. The blasted courtyard beneath them is awash with blood and rainwater, and the minions of the Mistress rise from death, shambling to their feet once more, and the rushing ribbons of foul magic thicken, obscuring the storm-laden skies above, and swirling like mist beneath the landing, as a rising vortex lifts the Warden into the air and rushes over Petal, pushing her back.
“Resist!” The witch’s voice is close. A strained whisper, fading as the Warden’s darkness spreads in billowing clouds. “Find him with your heart…”
Gilander. His absence is a wound in her heart, the like of which she has never known. To protect is her purpose an Akari, but this is sharp, intimate need. Men have never been special. Foolish and weak, they were a pleasant distraction; easily ignored if favour of her other interests. But her feelings for Gilander are tender. Precious.
Her left hand drifts, as it often does, to the small of her back, where a package is bound beneath her war-harness. Wrapped thick leather; her sketchbook.
Portraits of Ar’etasin and Se’eselan that she made before she left the Broken Hills. And another, half-completed, of her Wayfinder. The image unfurls in her mind, the long lines that describe the curve of his cheek, and the subtle wave of hair between his ear and neck…
“Giland er’Selvik.” His name is sweet on her lips, as the anchorstone necklace beats in time with her heart.
“Petal…” His gentle face fills her vision; soft, green eyes wet with tears. “You’re alive?”
“How?” The clean air of spring opens her chest, and the oppressive weight of the storm is gone. “What is this?”
Gilander smiles. “This is the Glade.”
WC-992
Author's Notes:
For newer readers who might wonder about the meaning of some of the strange terms like 'ontologia', I have compiled a small Glossary.
This week's theme is Zeal! - Petal searches her heart for the zeal required to oppose the power of the Mistress.
Bonus words used; - Xenial, Yarrow, Zone.
Additional bonus constraint: 'Somebody sleeps through a loud event.' Moskoto passes out and sleeps through the increasing noise as the Mistress harnesses the power of the storm.
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. All criticism and feedback is welcome.
[Next Chapter] [Chapter Index]
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u/mysteryrouge 16h ago edited 11h ago
<The Stranger Nomads>\ Chapter 52
Kane thumbed the modified communication disk, mindlessly carving a new message to Juris as he walked. I'm no longer trapped in M's house! he announced, to which Juris congratulated him.
Through the portals and paths of the wider multiverse, the apprentice made his way to the Propaganda Archive. The Museum of the Gods, where it was located, was one of the easiest universes to find for literally anyone with any multiversal travel skills. Even Voidworlders could find it (not that many went there.)
Like last time, the halls were decked out in smooth woods and stone columns. The entire place was brightly lit by magic, allowing some of the large posters to give off a reflective sheen, and the scrolls, books, and videos were organized as efficiently as ever.
Going to the shelf of stuff that hadn't been sorted yet, he noticed the Sorites content was gone.
Now I really have to hunt.
He supposed he could always ask someone for help, or just look it up, but he didn't want to reveal his hand any more than needed.
I wonder if Ergodonia told anyone I was here.
Perusing the shelves of Multiversity student-made propaganda gave him time to consider.
Is she here now?
Sorting propaganda and hunting around the multiverse for it were two distinct tasks.
No longer feeling tied to M's side, Kane took in the breadtu of the archive and its endless shelves. Even this small section on propaganda produced by and for the students stretched on.
Sorites stuff is definitely not here.
Nor was there any Sorites propaganda within the many halls worth of pro-possession content.
That's against the Warcrimes Conventions, he remembered.
One particular poster caught his attention.
JOIN THE WENTHY CULTURAL AUTHORITY!
Underneath were three people in grey, armed with what looked like ray guns. Thick tendrils emerged from their backs, creating the poster's border. Their spikey helmets only showed eyes, dark as coal.
A tiny plaque underneath the poster told more. The Culture Authority mentioned in the poster was just like Pax Orizuru had been, if Pax Orizuru wasn't so busy enforcing random international treaties.
The original creator made five more of these posters (all displayed next to the first), showing similar images.
The plaques beneath, with a tap, could be expanded to be much larger inforrmation panels describing Wenthy's government before it got conquered by the Union Order.
Wenthy was run by several "Elder Gods" who could not exist without at least one human vessel. The people knew this, and the most extreme would even sacrifice others to said Elder Gods.
"Propaganda relating to the Wenthy sacrifice process is in Section 3847: Pro-Sacrifice Content" another nearby sign had been labeled.
Kane would visit there after he relocated the propaganda he was more used to seeing.
The man tore his eyes away from the posters, realizing he needed to move on, else he'd never make it to the sections of the archive most likely to contain Sorites stuff.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes briefly before going back to studying the posters and titles.
Padding footsteps interrupted Kane's careful studying.
"You're back."
Kane nearly blasted his surroundings with flame.
"Holy Hells, Ergodonia. Don't surprise me like that."
WC: 534\ No bonuses this week
Short chapter. Written an hour before the deadline (at 5 am for me lol). Hey, I've been writing this serial for a year!
2
u/Morose_Prose 9h ago
Hey Scythe!
Congrats on a full year of 'The Stranger Nomads'! It's been quite the journey across the multiverse to get to this point! Nice character building chapter with Kane here as they wander the Propaganda Archives after their duel with M, and helps do more world building through the excellent propaganda poster Kane examines.
There are just a few small things to touch on here:
The entire place was brightly lit by magic, allowing some of the large posters to give off a reflective sheen, and the scrolls, books, and videos were organized as efficiently as ever.
Run-on sentence here. Could chop this into two sentences: "The entire place was brightly lit by magic, allowing some of the large posters to give off a reflective sheen. All the scrolls, books, and videos..."
One particular poster caught his attention.
JOIN THE WENTHY CULTURAL AUTHORITY!
Would possible consider making this an acronym, propaganda loves acronyms. "Join the W.C.A. today!" and then possibly put a smaller line on the poster at the bottom with 'Paid for by The Wenthy Cultural Authority committee for Culture" or something like that.
That's all I got. Good words! Stay awesome and have a good one.
•
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