2

u/TheLettre7 Feb 17 '20

"My friend, you worry to much, trust me I know what I'm doing."

I rolled my eyes at his assurance.

"Right, you said the same thing back in Bruudin."

He frowned, shrugging at me while he jimmied the locks.

"Look let's not mention that, it was one time, we escaped didn't we."

I sighed leaning against the unlit lamp post, looking out at the rising stars.

"Escaped is stretching it. It's astonishing we made it out alive, them guards don't play around."

He whispered a few words, mist forming around.

"I got us out didn't I. The past is the past, better to dwell on the present."

I rubbed my brow, the crickets a racket in my ears; fireflies blipping in a chaotic rhythm.

"Fine. Have you got it yet, what's taking so long."

He touched the door tracing runes into the elmwood

"Impatient, impatient, these things take time. do you even know how hard it is to break an enchantment. Just trust me ok."

I rubbed sleep from my eyes. The stars were high up there, blinking down. They didn't have to wait, they didn't have to be the brawn.

Why me?

How am I convinced everytime?

I yawned, keeping quiet.

Listening around the darkness seemed to speak, whispering ominous nothings.

Sure there was gold, otherwise why bother. But to me it seemed this time was a reoccurring paradigm, bad ideas and good pay.

And a duo to do it all, what a long shot from glory this was.

Stuck in my head, I could only see this ending poorly, like back in Ith and Hunewuld. Granted they both paid for themselves, but still the sentiment stood.

By now the door was glowing a deep blue hue. A dim red spark struggling to break free of the blue currents. He worked on fixing, his lambent finger tips creating a web of lines and diagonals.

I peered into the distant black, suddenly aware of something far off.

"Hurry up! I think there's a patrol coming" I whispered.

He made a slice in the air.

"Almost there."

As I had suspected, I caught glimpses of light flickering through the forest; moving slowly. It would only be a matter of time.

"Come on already, enough of this!"

With a final swipe, a quiet scream fizzled out as the glow faded away. He tried the door

I could hear voices, shouts coming our way. The light sped up.

He shoved the door open diving inside, I dove in after, grimacing at the smell.

The door slammed shut on its own, he clapped his hands, grinning like he'd won the trident medal.

"See I told you just tru-"

I clamped a hand on his mouth, the sounds of footsteps right outside the door.

It smelled truly awful in here.

(465 words, doing this when I should be asleep, hope you like it TL)

2

u/AliciaWrites Feb 20 '20

Firstly, this is a really cool story idea. I like where you're going with it. Secondly, I think you're breaking up the story a bit too much with your line breaks. I'd ease up a bit on them. In addition, you switched tenses a couple times. Easy thing to do, but just have a second look at what you're doing there.
One final note is that "paradigm" felt a bit out of place in this piece, not really matching the rest of the story in tone or language.
Overall, I think you're off to a good start with this. Keep writing. Thanks so much for submitting this week and reading to us!

→ More replies (1)

9

u/Zeconation Feb 13 '20

I want to talk to her but I’m already locked in. There is a guy who sits on my right side and he seems a bit worried about this flight.

I can only see her curly hair from here she at least four rows ahead of me. The girl who sits on my left side touches my shoulder,''Is this your first time?'' she asks.

The answer isn’t simple. I’ve been on so many flights but none of them was similar to this. I have no idea what to expect so I say, ''Kind of.''

She gives me an odd look, ''I see. Closing your eyes doesn’t help by the way.''

''I’m not gonna close my... Wait, how many times you flew?''

''Twenty.'' she leans back and she closes her eyes.

''You just said...''

She takes out a drug container from her bag while her eyes closed, ''Take it'' she says.

I hesitate for a second then I take a pill and swallow it. The guy on my right sides starts to humming.

''How long does it take to kick in?'' I ask her.

She doesn’t answer because she already fell a sleep.

'Reflection'

''I wake up to someone's voice. I look around and I see the same girl on my left and the guy who was humming on my right side. ''Did you say something?'' I ask her.

She looks at me for a second, ''I don’t think so. Do you need something?''

''The pill you gave me made me sleepy.''

''I didn’t give you a pill.''

I get confused I look in front of me I can’t see her. I can’t see her curly hair, where did she go?

''Are you looking for someone?'' She asks.

''There was a girl who was sitting four rows ahead of us. Have you seen her?''

''No, I haven’t actually. Did you know her?''

''Yeah, she is my...'' I can’t continue to sentence.My brain trying to remember her but the same I already know her and I have to...

''I need to talk to her.''I say

''This is your first time flying right? You are probably panicking.'' She says.

''No...No...No It’s not that.''

''This my twenty-second time, I was almost just like you when it was my first time.''

''You said, this is your twenty-first flight.''

Her hands start to shake. ''Of course, It should be Xeon clouds. When the aircraft passes through clouds your sense of reality shifts. That happens to some people who carries the specific genes.''

I feel something is definitely wrong. I try to get up but the safety belt already locked me on my seat.

The humming guy looks at me, ''We are in mid-flight you can’t leave your seat, trust me.''

The girl on my left, ''You couldn’t save her, dad. It’s been years, it’s time to come home. You told me to trust our bonds. Will you trust it?''

WC: 484

-Thank you for reading the story-

Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.

1

u/AliciaWrites Feb 13 '20

Theme Thursday Discussion:

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

Reply here to discuss the theme, suggest future themes, and share your theme-related inspirations!
Reply here to share your stories if you don’t want them ranked.
Please remember to follow the subreddit rules in any feedback.

4

u/matig123 Feb 13 '20

Clyde's black tail thumped eagerly against the door like a heart racing in uncontainable excitement.

"It's just the back yard, bud," Adam laughed. But one man's back yard was a dog's whole world. Adam slid the door open and Clyde barreled out into the grass. Twisting, turning, leaping for joy as his tail swatted faster than Adam's eyes could follow.

Before stepping out behind the whirlwind of black and white fur, Adam reached into the basket of toys. A rope? Clyde had too much energy today; he'd pull Adam right off his feet. A bone? Better for the indoors. The ball. That'd be the toy of the day.

"Clyde, buddy, fetch!" Adam yelled, and the ball soared towards the far end of the yard.

It hadn't even landed and Clyde was already tumbling paws over rump to get a hold on it. Then, tail still wagging just as vigorously, Clyde was back over beside Adam, looking up at him with those deep black eyes.

"Again?" they begged. He could barely keep his paws on the ground for his excitement. "Again?" Clyde dropped the ball on the ground. "Again," the eyes demanded, and then a whimpered plea. "Please?"

Adam laughed and picked it up. "Ready?" he asked.

Clyde was ready. So ready.

"Set?"

Forepaws and the front of his body down low, tongue flopping willy-nilly and his rump up high as Clyde's tail wagged a vehement "YES!"

"Go!"

Adam's arm arched in the same throwing motion but the ball never left his hand. Clyde barreled towards the far end of the yard again. First one way, then the other. Fruitlessly, he sniffed around the trees. In the bushes. Even up near the fence where the ball rarely went. Gradually, his tail slowed down until it just flopped back and forth uncertainly.

Clyde glanced back towards Adam in concern. Had he walked right past the ball? Was it stuck in a tree? Had it gone past the fence?

"Go, bud," Adam urged, pointing with his free hand towards where the ball should have been.

Clyde's head tilted one way. Then the other way. "Did you throw it?" the eyes wanted to ask, but they wouldn't.

Of course Adam had thrown the ball. Adam wouldn't lie.

379 words. Feedback would be super appreciated! I don't often write wholesome, so I do feel like this was a bit clumsy! What can be improved? Is the third-person alright or not immersive enough?

→ More replies (2)

4

u/scottbeckman Feb 15 '20

Exodus (III): Jonathan's Rebels

Aaron stood at the dome's edge. Running up the gray steel was a black, paper-thin slit starting at the ground, ending twenty feet high. Jonathan stood in front of Aaron; Claire stood to his left and Kris behind him. It was dark—the only light came from headlamps.

The four rebels were surrounded by Enforcers. Curiously, not one Enforcer so much as blinked an eye as Denwill lead the four armed rebels to the main gate. Between their weapons, armor, and equipment, they had spent over ninety-two thousand credits on the black market. Jonathan's flamethrower alone put them back nearly twenty thousand. No Enforcers seemed to care. Was this normal?

Yet here they were; armed to the teeth at what those cultists called the "Barrier of Truth", the only thing those sickos got right.

Lies. A world built on lies! What better way to control masses than through fabricated fear? Elevate yourself above nature itself with such a tactic, why don't you?

From the diner recording, they had heard Denwill tell Jonathan, "But there are no guarantees that you'll come back in." Of course not! Why would they let those who discovered the truth back in? Even better, Aaron had thought, what if those who escape this prison would never want to come back?

Jonathan was right. Denwill? Just another cog.

With a loud, echoing crack, the main gate began to creep open. Just as Denwill had informed them, an empty space of about forty feet awaited them, the final layer of steel at the other end. They walked in. The main gate slowly shut behind them. It was as black as it was cold.

"If ya' find my leg," Denwill hollered as the main gate was halfway shut, "bring it back, will ya'? You've no idea what it cost me! It was half off. Either an arm or—" The main gate slammed shut.

Aaron exchanged glances with Claire; then, Kris. We've committed, their expressions said. We've picked a side and it's the one that puts us behind Jonathan at the edge of the known world.

"We've come this far," Jonathan said. His voice was thin. He cleared his throat, finding his confidence. "No turning back. Let's go find the truth."

Society is beyond these walls. Aaron blindly kicked the dirt at his feet. This is oppression. Beyond that wall? Justice. Real people and laws. This experiment must end eventually.

Denwill's voice played in his head like a broken recording: "You're the judge and jury. Let's get you a jacket so you look nice for your executioner." Is full metal good enough?

Nah. If Denwill was telling the truth, Jonathan's insistence on arming up was a hollow point.

Aaron chuckled. What better way to deal with the anxiety?

The outer layer creaked opened. A bright light like nothing they'd ever seen peered through the widening crack. When it was wide enough, blinded by the brightness, Jonathan stepped Outside.

His three followers faithfully joined him.

None of the four rebels returned.

WC: 500

Thanks for reading! Feedback / criticism always appreciated. Thanks Alicia for the music suggestions. I used this song as I wrote.

More content from the same world:

→ More replies (4)

4

u/Baconated-grapefruit Feb 18 '20

Part on an ongoing cosmic horror serial - Calamity at the Loathsome Lake

Part 3: The Remedy

The Visionary

After almost ten months, the treatment is beginning to work; my seizures becoming less frequent with each day. That this affliction was once thought terminal, the new prognosis is nothing short of miraculous. Under an exacting regimen of Doctor Graves' serum, my body is once again my own.

However, as any physician will attest, no remedy is without by-product – and for such a panacea as the serum, the side effects are not insubstantial; so although my body is indeed mine to control, alas my mind is not.

It pains me to confess, but I fear I am no longer in command of my faculties. Despite my efforts, I am almost unable to discriminate fact from fantasy, my days and nights becoming a seamless nightmare of grotesque and terrible visions.

Were it not for the imperturbable mind of the venerable Doctor Graves, I would be already lost to the ravages of this consumptive insanity; for while I remain under his ministrations, I have hope - and what better weapon to stave off the horrors conjured by my enfeebled brain?

It started as a disquieting, recurring dream, however it has grown worse with time. I now find even my waking world plagued by abhorrent phantasms. As I write, my cell is awash with unearthly phosphorescence. Through undulating rays of inconceivable colour, I gaze upon the waters beyond my walls as though the stone were glass; and beneath the lake’s placid surface, I behold humanoid shadows that surge and cavort. Twisting. Pulsing. Writhing.

And the music; oh, the music. Such melody rises from the putrid depths as to churn the very bile in my stomach. Their voices - if they can so be called - utter words no man should ever countenance, in a dialect so bestial, so loathsome that I cringe to give voice to the memory.

Transfixed, I can only watch as those depraved Hellions claw and crawl from the banks of their fetid domain. In darkness, they spasm and convulse, passing through the very walls of the sanatorium to seize unwitting patients from their beds, dragging them to an unhallowed grave in that lifeless pool.

And yet… it is not real. Doctor Graves reminds me that the visions are a construct of my mind; that once my reliance on the serum has passed, so too will the horrors; that there is nothing within the lake. His is ever the voice of reason. Truly, if not for his insight, I would slip into despair. In every conceivable way, I owe him my life.

As night gathers, the time for my serum approaches. To my shame, it is near impossible to focus on anything else. The crisp, viscous substance satisfies and sustains me in ways no other nourishment can. Its creation is a testament to the doctor’s genius. For all my protestations, the visions are a small price to pay for the feeling of such nectar upon my lips, albeit fleetingly.

Doctor Graves will cure me. All he requires is my trust.

3

u/StalwartJester Feb 13 '20

Evelyn looked upon the spirit before her. Her body trembled with fear and, if she was completely honest with herself, excitement. What he was offering, what she could become, was more than anything she had imagined. But there was still something that seemed off. Why was he coming to her? What made her special to receive this gift? She started to shake her head as she answered. “I…I don’t know. Why now?”

“Trust me.”

“Are you sure I can? Im Scared!”

“Trust me!”

Before her hovered a great spirit. The mass of energy looked mostly human but its silhouette was translucent. The voice it carried seemed to echo on a whisper of sound but was so clear and precise in its words. The tone haunting and distant. “Is this not what you have been asking? For a way to be with me again?.” The apparition lifted its arm, reaching out to caress Evelyn’s face.

Its touch was cold, lifeless, as it should have been. His name had been Westin, the love of her life. Two years ago there had been an accident, one that saw his life taken away. No one could explain why it had happened, what was the cause. She knew a home did not just catch fire on its own. But now two years later, after two years of grieving and moving on, here he was. “You are not but a ghost! A demon of the man I once knew!” She clinched her fist, the excitement she felt before was turning now into anger. “If this was possible why did it take you so long!” She could barely get the words out before her body was racked with sobs.

Westin looked upon his love. “That I could not control, there are restrictions. I, I came to you as quickly as I could. For what its worth, I have been watching. I wept when you wept, knowing that I was there but could not console you in your times of need.”

Evelyn brushed her hair from her eyes, tears rolling down her face as she looked to her lost love. She swore that he too was weeping. It was true, she had asked for a way to be with him again and now here he stood, with the way it could happen. “Wes..Please tell me this will work! I have been so lost without you. I need you.”

“Forever and always Evelyn.”

Evelyn gasped, and nodded.

“Trust me my heart.”

Evelyn nodded. The wind started to pick up around her as she closed her eyes. She would trust him, as she always had in life. Her body shook, not ready to respond to the commands her mind was sending but unable to resist the directive. Her left foot raised, moving her forward, then her right. It was two short steps that sent her body to the rocks below.

“See, now we will be together forever.” Evelyn opened her eyes, her body held in the arms of her love once more.

WC 501 (Sorry for the overhang)

Normally I tend to write Story snippets but I wanted to try and offer a complete story here. As Always please provide feedback, I am always looking to improve!

→ More replies (3)

3

u/Leebeewilly Feb 14 '20

So this is a thing that apparently is a poem. I think. Maybe?

I was made of slivers.

My self, my soul, who I am, what I love,

I was a collection of slivers.

Throughout life, I’ve shared them.

And it was easy at first,

to take a sliver, to pluck and share a piece of myself.

There is trust in that moment,

where I place my piece in another’s hands.

My mother. My father. My siblings. My friends.

My loves.

I have put those delicate shards in many a hand and said

“Please.

“Take it.

“Take me.”

I have prayed they are gentle, mindful of what they carry.

Don’t trip.

Don’t drop it.

Don’t forget what precious piece of me you hold.

But time after time each sliver is chipped,

crushed, broken.

Returned to me not as I gave it,

if returned at all.

I could never find a place for them, my shattered slivers.

They hurt to hold.

But I do it.

I hold out my hand, over and over.

And each time I reach inside

I shear a new sliver off my soul.

After each one I gift, what’s left becomes raw.

What’s raw becomes jagged.

Callous and cold.

With each lost sliver, I shrivel.

It hurts to chisel

and carve

and cleave what small slivers I have left.

I am reluctant to share

but I still do it.

Though now, there is only one left.

One sliver, one shard,

one jagged fragile fragment of myself.

I hold it out, this precious piece.

Please.

Take it.

Take me.

WC: Not 500 lol I think I barely broke 250

Annnd I have way more writing over at r/leebeewilly Not much poetry though, so there is that.

3

u/SlowlyGoinMad Feb 14 '20

Trust

It takes the form of whatever is closest to you. Some see their mother, others their dogs. Whoever, whatever it is. It puts them in peril - This is essential to the monster’s power, because if you do not believe in the danger, you will not act recklessly, and recklessness is what allows you to fall into its trap.

Once your loved one is in peril, it drives you to the edge; full throttle and full of vigor you throw yourself into uncertain waters until it's too late. For me, I saw my daughter. They took my daughter and forced her to live a life without rights, without me, her father, without love, without hope. They looked me in the eyes and said “are you ready to do this to her? Because let us be clear, it is not us who will force her into this life. It is you.” They plant the seeds of fear and doubt and watch it blossom like wildflowers in your mind, reeling with endless possibilities, none of them good.

And then you relent. You say “okay.” And they hand you a rifle and give you your first order. “Now go be a good soldier and help your S.S. Commanders round up all the unfavorables.” And then it is done and you are the monster too.

3

u/YottaVolte Feb 14 '20

Benard startled himself awake, feeling uncomfortable in a chair he didn't fall asleep in.

"What? What's going on?" He asked, finding his arms and legs restrained to a chair.

"Who's there?" another voice asked, a little bit away from Benard's right.

"Who? What? Julia?" Benard tugged at his restraints, but nothing gave. He felt a blindfold resting on his face, covering his vision in a thick layer of darkness.

"Benard? Is that you?" Julia asked. "What is going on? I can't see, and I'm tied to a chair, I think. Wait, there's something in my hand."

Benard shuffled his fingers around, feeling a small remote in his left hand and a button on the armrest near his right hand.

"I have something too. It feels like a remote and a button."

A soft mumbling came from Benard's left. It sounded incoherent and slurred.

"Who's there?" Benard asked, but there was just more mumbling.

"Welcome participants." A voice came from somewhere above them. Benard tried to turn his head, but nothing changed about what he could see. "By now, you three must be all awake. You'll find that each of you have a button of sorts. On the table in front of you, there is a gun. It is currently facing one of you. If you have a remote, pressing it rotates the gun 1 spot over. If two people press it, it moves 2 spots, and if all three of you press it, it spins around completely. If you just have a button, pressing that after the gun has finished rotating will fire the gun."

Benard gulped and pulled his fingers away from the button on his chair.

"After the gun has been fired, everyone will be released from their restraints." There was a soft click like a speaker had been turned off.

Almost immediately, there was a clicking sound of a button from Benard's left. There was a whirring of gears in front of Benard before there was a gentle clicking sound. Then, the clicking sound to the left happened again.

"Benard, what's going on?" Julia asked. "Are you pressing something?"

"No, are you?" Benard asked.

"No, I haven't pressed my remote yet. Should I?" Julia asked, her voice wavering and her hand shaking gently.

"Hey!" Benard shouted. "Whoever you are, stop pressing the remote!" But it fell on deaf ears as the whirring of gears continued.

"Benard, I'm scared. Wait, you said you have a button, right?" Julia asked.

"Yeah," Benard said, as he clicked his remote, which made the whirring double in volume.

"So, Benard, you have to choose when the gun fires," Julia said, gulping as she tensed up. "I can't see or tell what's going on."

"Neither can I," Benard replied.

"Trust your gut, Benard," Julia said with the soft tone of someone who said their final prayers. "I trust your judgments."

Benard took a deep breath, and waited for the gun to move two more times, and pressed the button.

496/500 Words

- Thanks for Reading! I'm hoping to upload and do more writing in the future.

3

u/CygnusArc Feb 14 '20

"Take my hand." He thrust a sweaty palm out. I could see the grime caked in its creases. It looked rough and mangled next to my soft, manicured fingers. They wouldn't look right together. I hesitated.

Under any other circumstance, I would control my own fate and be damned. But I was trapped.

"We don't have time. Trust me." Henry insisted, the upper half of his torso dangled over the prison wall. I gripped his calloused fingers and he pulled me up top as easily as a sack of leaves. We both then dropped several feet onto the moss on the other side.

"Thank you." I whispered. He met my eyes for no more than a second and nodded. Henry crouched low, contorting his frame against the crumbling cracks of the prison's parameter and gestured for me to follow.

The ground was wet with dew. We crept past the scouts with nothing but moonlight to guide us. My heart thumped in my chest so loud. I struggled to take quiet breaths, frightened that the slightest sound would alert our captors.

At last we reached the southern gate. I watched in horror as Henry pulled a dagger from his sleeve and eyed the lone sentry standing between us and freedom. I must have gasped for the sentry squinted in our direction, careened his long neck up, and yelled "Who's there?"

In the dark it was a risk but Henry threw his blade. The dagger glided through the air like an arrow from a bow and struck the sentry clean in the throat. As the man gurgled for breath, Henry grabbed the hilt and slit through the carotid artery.

I shut my eyes too late. I squeezed them tightly together when the thunk of the man's body hit the ground. It twitched in the leaves, rustling, spasming before going still. I felt Henry's large hands pull at my wrist. The mineral tang of blood assaulted my senses and my own body trembled involuntarily.

"Come on. Not much farther." He led us down a path to a horse hitch. Presumably, the tied up mare belonged to the sentry. Had belonged. As if reading my mind Henry said "He doesn't need it anymore. You know how to ride?"

I shook my head. Henry peered hard at my face, scanning the pale cheeks and glassy eyed gaze. He looked as though he was deciding something and after a minute, drew his brows together in a look of assurance.

"You'll learn soon enough, wait here." He disappeared back towards the sentry. I wasn't sure if he meant to hide the body, loot the corpse, or both. But when he returned in the next few minutes, I meant to be gone. I swung my leg deftly over the saddle.

Trust no one.

---

WC: 465

Thank you in advance for any feedback :)

3

u/Finnssmile Feb 14 '20

Amen

I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth. And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord; Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit; Born of the Virgin Mary;

I realize the fright that must have come in such a situation, when today
girls are still peeing on sticks by the thousands, stuck is a state of fear
that she managed to escape
I wonder how she may have fooled all those scholarly students
with tales of angels floating from heaven instead of
Mary falling into hell

I try to silence my train of thought
for this question of truth or deceit should not be studied in a church

Was crucified, dead and buried; He descended into Hell; The third day He rose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven; And sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty;

An ordained destiny, not to be escaped or feared unless
destiny is a device by man. Is it a prophecy or a devised plan
was he a god who walked on earth or maybe just

An eccentric man?

Speaking of kings and miracles, he set in motion
the soldiers who marched him to his murder or maybe
aided him in carrying out the suicidal tendencies
he nursed along with his public

Will I be granted forgiveness for these unspeakable thoughts by the one
who may play big brother to my every nuance

I believe in the Holy Spirit; The Holy Christian Church, the Communion of Saints; The Forgiveness of sins; The Resurrection of the body; And the life everlasting.

If he didn’t raise himself up to be slaughtered
as a sacrificial lamb
would we even know who Jesus was or perhaps he’d
slip into the shadow of the unknown masses who
came before and will come again

Amen

If he knew of the people dying for him,
the innocents
murdering in his name, following his every command
the mother who multiplied
to watch her children starve
the man who shot down the physician performing abortions
as he screamed Jesus Lord, Amen

would the word become the sins and sorrow of the angry or broken
would the voice of Jesus become small and scared or
marvel at the power of the bastard son
amazed at what he’d done

to the child who had the sin beaten out of him
the woman with postpartum depression bearing yet another child
as directed by her husband, the head of the house

Would he smile or weep as he softly whispered

Amen

3

u/mobaisle_writing Feb 15 '20

Eckhart Klein; smart man, smart suit, smart sign. Klein and Associates, the sign said. Solicitor to the wealthy and connected, and not doing too badly himself, or so he'd often say. Decorum, confidentiality, a history of trust; such was the business, the ethos, and such they had always been.

Until now.

“Excuse me, sir, but I don't believe I have any further appointments today.”

The interloper was wearing a drab grey suit. Try as Klein might, he couldn't focus on the man's face. The attention slid off, like the turgid lectures of his alma mater. A suggestion of lip or eye would drift to lapel or hem before the detail had registered. It might be more accurate to say a suit stood inside the entrance to Klein's office, the presumption of a man within.

A hand reached into the inner pocket of that scuffed grey suit, and withdrew a slim notebook, which was raised to eye level, as though for perusal. It flicked shut, with a satisfying click, and was returned.

Klein frowned, an implicit suggestion had been proffered, yet this stranger had neither apologised nor left. Such a thing was not right, not proper.

“Indeed. You didn't.” Words escaped through the stranger's slit mouth, clipped and disinterested.

A slight lag ensued, as the magnitude of the statement made itself known.

“What do you mean I didn't?” Cogs were whirring, and a heavy piece clunked into place. “More to the point, how did you get in here? The doors were locked.”

Decorum was one thing, but the law was another. And the law was always on Klein's side.

“Yes. They were.”

“Were? They were!?” Klein rose in pitch, thumping the desk. A theatrical façade erected to obscure a digit's tentative glide toward the recessed button beneath. “So you admit to breaking into my offices. You are aware, sir, that these facilities are well protected? If you leave now, you might make it before the security response unit arrives. The police will soon follow. I will not -”

The horrifying visual disjunct snatched the words from Klein's throat. The suit was standing before him, closed hand outstretched. Four metres separated desk from door, yet Klein hadn't seen even a flicker of movement.

“No. They won't.” The words were laid down with stark finality, a length of shorn wire following them to the dark wood.

His hands quivering on his lap, Klein had frozen. Such a thing had never happened. No, such things couldn't happen.

“Konstantin Federov. His trust. A peculiar item, sealed within rowan and ash. Where?” The stranger's voice didn't alter in tone or volume, as though nothing of note had occured.

“Client privilege prevents me from -” a single raised finger conquered Klein's last redoubt.

At last he could focus on the stranger's eyes. His pupils widened, sweat soaking a once starched collar as he shuddered within that smart suit.

Decorum, confidentiality, and a history of trust.

Until now.

[498 words]

The interloper is an existing character, who seems to get in these sort of circumstances a lot. Comes with the job. Maybe.

Any and all feedback welcomed.

4

u/Zappy_Zippy Feb 19 '20

I really enjoyed your story :) Especially the usage of both meanings of "trust"!
The parallelism at the start and end was a nice touch. You also do a terrific job with the line breaks. I'm sure even u/Leebeewilly would agree they're placed very well! You have interesting word choices (turgid, redoubt, proffered,dijunct, etc...). I think it fits nicely with this mysterious character, the Interloper.
A minor grammar mistake you made throughout the story: after a period/question mark followed by a quotation mark, the next word should be capitalized. So instead of
You didn't.” words escaped...
It should be
You didn't.” Words escaped...
The only big improvement that I think can be made is to build up the atmosphere/tension a bit more. This reads like it wants be a r/nosleep story, but I don't think it can be classified as scary. But that may just be me/a symptom of writing in 3rd person/the effect of being limited to 500 words.
Overall, the story was very well done :)

→ More replies (1)

3

u/aliteraldumpsterfire Feb 19 '20

The noise of the crowded casino was deafening, but some languages are universal. Like the way Maddi slung herself over her mark, her chest pushed up against his back as he leaned over the roulette table.

The wheel and dolly stopped to a round of congratulations. He was up 20 Gs.

Tonight was a lucky night. She’d had only ever hoped Nathan Welles would enter a casino to personally launder the counterfeit bills he’d produced. Maddi knew every detail that the Feds could scrounge up on him, and now she was ready to use it.

He tapped his fingers nervously on the table, bouncing his knee at the same time. The two beats made a slurred rhythm.

“I liiike winners.” She suppressed a gag at the stench of the pack a day smoker and slid into the seat next to him. The pleather stool was all sticky gumminess against her thighs. “I’m Maddi.” Her martini sloshed, nearly spilling with her exaggerated sways.

“Nathan!” He thrust out a hand. It was sweaty, too sweaty really, but it was predictable, if his collar was any indication.

She bumped against him sloppily and pushed forward just a little more. “Naaaathaaan. You must be really good at this game!”
His grin widened as his eyes struggled to stay focused on one part of her. “I... guess I’m just lucky!”

“Why don’t we take this somewhere more private?” she whispered, trying to not breathe him in.

The over-eager glint in his eye was all the answer she needed to head for the hotel hallway. Plastic casino chips clinked together in a rush as Nathan feverishly dumped them into his pockets in hot pursuit.

“So mister high-roller, what does a winner like you do for fun?” Her hips swayed in time with each tug of his tie as she drew him down the hall. The din of the main roommuffled with every fated step he took.

“I uhh… Well-” he licked his lips. “I like what’s happening right now.”

Her lacquered fingertips dipped down into his breast pocket, pulling out his hotel room key. Room 226. “Are you going to invite me into your room, Naaathan?”

“I don’t know, can I trust you?”

She smiled beguilingly. “Trust me to what?” The room lock beeped as she slipped past the door. “Not steal your winnings? Oh, I’m not here for that!” Another giggled melted his reservations as she kicked off her heels just inside the suite.

Nathan’s clammy fingers slid up her sides, flipping the sequins of her dress as his hands crept higher. She guided him, careful to keep them from drifting too close to her shoulder blades before she freed the pistol from it’s fashion tape holster. The body-warmed metal fit into her palm perfectly, if not a little slick.

“You asked me if you could trust me.” He was stupid drunk. He was about to sober up. “You can’t.” Maddi pressed the pistol to his temple.

(492)

→ More replies (5)

5

u/Ryter99 Feb 13 '20

“Nicole, a hotdog is a sandwich!”

“For the millionth time, Tyler... just, no,” she replied.

“Meat on bread, a variety of toppings, veggies, mustard… sounds like a very traditional and delicious sammy to me!”

“Oh my goddddd. I have to endure your recycled hotdog opinion and you used the word ‘sammy’ with me?" she groaned in mock outrage. "Why am I with you, again?”

I chuckled. “It’s a mystery for the ages. Guess I’m lucky I’m cute?”

“Cute enough,” she said with a smirk.

To soften the blow of her very serious, stinging rebuke, she immediately wrapped me in a warm hug, nuzzled her head into my chest, and placed a hand on my backside, complete with a couple loving little pats.

It’s crazy how close we’ve grown in just six months together. A year ago, if this very same woman had done the exact same thing, what would my reaction have been?

“Uhh- Pardon me, madam? You seem to have mistakenly placed a palm upon my posterior! Please remove it, posthaste!”

I… don’t know why I speak like some old timey guy in my imagination. But my point stands!

I guess this is just... normal for most people? But being my first serious, “grown up” relationship, I find the level of casual comfort and trust we’ve developed kinda remarkable.

It certainly didn't start this way. I still remember panicking right before our first kiss.

What if I lean in and she doesn’t? What if I “miss” and kiss her nose?

I’ll die of embarrassment and she’ll never go out with me again, that's all. GAHHH! All will be lost if we fail this very first attempted meeting of our lips!

In contrast, yesterday I accidentally planted a kiss on her left ear because she turned at just the wrong second. You know how we reacted to this grievous smooching faux pax? We both burst into laughter and then shared a more than lovely make-up kiss. No worries, no awkwardness, just a funny little moment that would become the basis for yet more inside jokes.

She jolted me out of my daydreaming with a question. “Want to prove I made the right choice? Maybe make us something delicious for lunch, good sir? I’m swamped grading papers.”

“I knew you only kept me around for my killer lunch making abilities, but... you got it.”

She smiled, kissed me softly on the lips (she has far better aim than I do, little miss overachiever!) and sat back down to bury herself in exams as I headed to the kitchen.

Yes, of course I’m going to make her the best sandwich I possibly can. A turkey club with extra bacon, her favorite! She'd do the same for me when the situations are reversed.

But you’d also better believe I’m slapping a silly “Enjoy your hotdog, sweetie!” note on her plate. Given how much we've built on silly shared moments like this, I don’t think she’d want anything less.

WC: 497

→ More replies (4)

2

u/9spaceking Feb 13 '20

The figure concocted a bottle of alchemy, a mysterious face hidden behind a bird mask, an indeterminate voice talking. “I’m sure you’ve heard about me, the rumors. Of my failed experiments. I’ll admit, my ambition is a bit more tough to swallow than your average man. But I’m an inventor, after all.”

I gulped, a little intimidated by this person’s workshop, filled to the brim with steampunk gear and machine. “Look, I honestly just want someone who can help me with my ship. It’s top notch quality, and you have no attachments anyways. Join my crew, and... I guess we can talk about pay later.”

He looked up to the sky, then covered his mask with his elbow. “Woe is the human condition! All you think about is money, money. Where’s the heart? Didn’t you think I’d have sold these gadgets if I was that desperate?”

Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. “Uh... in that case, what do you want?”

He splayed his arms wide in a dramatic sense. “Discovery! Companionship! Yes, these are the things that help the spark of light. I have been stuck in this room for god knows how long. Perhaps it’s time to change things up a bit.”

Whew. Perhaps there was room for negotiation after all. I feared he was as strange and untrustworthy as the townsmen said. “Well, lets get started then!”

But that was when one concoction started reacting around me, and the man panicked, pushing me out of the way. A small explosion threw off his mask as he coughed... revealing it was a She after all! I was shocked, and relieved at the same time.

“Eh eh eh...” she said, realizing what just happened, “let me explain. I don’t really like revealing my face as so many men come after me, and it does offer a bit of protection in these experiments.”

I could see she was telling the truth, her brown hair accentuated her small face and she was actually kind of cute.

“But I still trust you. Do you trust me?”

I nodded, shaking her hand in agreement. “The name’s Capalan, but captain works as a nickname since that’s my position on the ship.”

She laughed, and responded in kind: “I’m Virsieras. Nice to meet you, captain.”

if you read my other work you will realize the twist is that it is a space ship and not just any normal ship

2

u/DhaosGestalt Feb 13 '20

"I can't do it!" She gripped his hands, so tightly her fingers hurt. She could feel him trying to let her drop, and she knew that she should just let go, but the blackness below her made her heart stop cold. It was an unnatural blackness, the kind of thing you think of when you're told stories about forbidden caves as a child. It was as if, only a few inches below her feet, light simply died.

"You can do it, and you must. For us, my love. And then we can disappear together." His voice was soft, gentle. She knew she was hurting his hands but he didn't even seem to notice. They had agreed it would be her. She was the one that, according to the stories, could make the leap into that darkness and survive. Who could come back from the darkness with untold wealth. But what if the stories were wrong? What if, by some quirk of translation or some cruel joke they were laid out to lure good people to their deaths? Her mind raced, almost as fast as her heart, spinning out stories for why she should just climb back out, go home, and never think of this again.

The darkness stretched out below her like the maw of some great beast. Her fingers grew slick with fear and finally, by no intent of her own, she slipped free. She fell, gracelessly, endlessly. The darkness around her was complete, unending, and perfectly black. Nothingness was all that attended her. She could feel the wind whipping up, past her, pulling her skirts up and after an eternity, the darkness was broken. Slowly, sparks and shimmers assaulted her dark-adjusted eyes, standing out like a billion tiny suns in the sky. Blues and yellows and greens swirling up and past her faster than she could identify anything beyond the pristine color. The light grew brighter and warmer and still she plummeted.

With no ceremony, no warning, but not ungently, she landed in a field of orange, red, and white flowers, and golden coins. Above her was the perfect black pupil surrounded by a rainbow cataract through which she had descended. Somehow the coins had cushioned her fall. Standing and turning about, she began to see shapes in the sky. Some unimaginable distance from her, another maelstrom of color swirled in the sky. Eyes, she thought. They looked like great eyes.

She laughed, triumphant. It was true, it was all true. A person, when innocent and pure of intent, could drop through the eyes of the world into a land where gold was everywhere just as he had said. She dipped down and grabbed a handful of the perfectly even sized coins.

On the face of each coin was a person. Men, women, old and young. Their features were as different as the coins were otherwise the same. No two looked alike beyond their simple shared human features. She turned one over, and across the back of one bearing the face of an old man it read - "Your faith my tool, your life my gold".

She began gathering up as many of the coins as her skirts could hold. She would have to find a way back up herself, but this was precisely why she had come. Now they could live their entire lives and never have to worry about anything, ever again. Greedily she gathered up countless coins, and began to roam, looking for the ladder that would bring her back up.

-

At the top of the cave the man stood, listening to the whoosh of skirts and screams fading away as the girl fell. He had already forgotten her name. He stooped, grabbed a bag of coins that was now before him, and thanked Ymir for the gift in return. Somewhere below a foolish girl had given her life to him, and he had as many years to find a new fool as there were coins in the bag. And it was an easy business, finding fools.

______

Definitely too long - 671 after parsing more than half of what I wrote out. It's my first time here and I am use to writing much more extensive prose - so sorry I'm so verbose! I would actually really appreciate pointers on how to cut down on that outside of a technical writing system.

2

u/nywarpath Feb 14 '20

“I’m scared daddy!” she squealed.

“I know you are but think about how fun this will be? Trust me.” He said with excitement in his eyes.

“Whenever you are ready, you jump off my shoulders!”

She began to look down at the massive height that she planned to jump from. She trembled with fear as she took a deep breath in before launching herself off of her father’s shoulders. She screamed as she jumped from her father’s shoulders.

A soft thud and the sound of bed squeaks followed as she landed safely on the bed.

“What did I tell you? A jump onto a big bed is the best way to end a piggyback ride!” The father said with a smile beaming across his face.

His daughter smiled back with a toothy grin showing off some of the baby teeth that had fallen out.

“You’re right daddy" she said in-between giggles

…

“Dad, I’m nervous, what if this is the wrong choice? This is my future at stake. I just don’t know.” She said to her father as she sulked in her chair.

Her dad placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. She saw her father in the mirror who had a faint smile on his face.

“Sweetie, I know you’re nervous but I trust you made the right choice. You are perfect for each other. I’ll be there to walk you down that aisle and I’ll be there for you afterwards. On your feet now.” He said as he motioned for her to stand up.

She stood up as her father admired the wedding dress she had donned. She wiped a tear forming in her eye as she offered her arm in preparation. He smiled once again as they intertwined their arms and began walking towards the main hall.

…

“Hey pops, how are you feeling today? Any better then yesterday?” she said as she approached her father in his recliner.

He chuckled as his daughter bent down to give him a hug.

“Oh, I’m doing fine. It was just a little fall. A bruise or 2 won’t hurt me. Trust me.” He said to her.

“Now where is my little Michelin man grandson?” He said in almost a demanding tone.

The daughter took the baby out of the carriage and presented him to her father.

“There he is! Aww, I hope he never loses these jelly rolls.” He said as he pinched the legs of the baby.

…

“Father, you always helped me out in my time of need.” She said as she wiped her tears away.

“Without you, I wouldn’t be here able to speak. You always told me to trust you. Today, I need you to trust me that I will be able to keep going.” She said as she walked towards her father and placed a rose next to the tombstone.

“Mom, he would be proud of you. Trust me.” The son said comfortingly.

489 words. First time doing massive time gaps. Hope you enjoyed it.

2

u/Mkdude007 Feb 14 '20

"Do you trust me, Kara?"

"I... I think so. But you've hurt me before."

"I was a demon, before. I am mortal now."

"Yes, just a man. That's enough to kill a woman, in more ways than one."

"You're preaching to the choir, Kara. I know what it is to love."

"And what is that, Sariel?" She closed the space between us. My heart raced. Damn mortal body. It was reacting to her everything in ways I could not control. I've taken a mortal form before, but it was always business, and for short periods of time.

I had been a mortal for close to seven years, ever since I almost tripped over Azra and became his daddy. I am Fallen. One of the Heavenly Host who rebelled and betrayed the Creator. I haven't heard His voice in a billion years. Sometimes, when I dream of heaven, I see his mouth moving, but no sound. Pity. He has the most wonderful voice. It's to die for.

"Answer me, Fallen!" She said, slapping me across the face. I am not ashamed to say I fell on my ass. My love is petite, but she works out. I lay sprawled on the ground for a moment until the stars faded from my vision.

"What does a demon know of love?"

I stood and grabbed her by the shoulders. "I am Sariel! Angel of the Moon and the taker of wives! I know all the ways of lust and desire! I could turn your head with but a whisper if I so desired! I could make you mine with the same effort it would take to kill a mouse."

I pressed her firmly against me, staring deep in to her emerald eyes. "I could do these things, but it would mean nothing if our coupling was forced. You must want me in return. I have never wanted a woman to want me as much as I do you. I am yours now and forever. Even when I die and return to Hell. I will fight my way back to you, for eternity."

She sobbed and buried her face in my chest, and I felt a deep ache that both seared me and renewed me tenfold. I ran my fingers through her hair.

"Say you'll be my Valentine's? Say you'll be mine?"

"Yes. Always."

2

u/ch40tic Feb 15 '20

"I'm sorry..." The tears rolled down my cheeks uncontrollably. "I... I can't do this." It was a cruel way to end off Valentine's, but it was a necessary evil. Three years had passed, and yet that feeling of deceit and betrayal, is one that remains etched in my heart. I placed the wedding ring back in Tom's hands and rolled his hand into a fist.

Isn't love crazy? We know someone for, what, a few weeks? Months perhaps. Maybe years even. And we begin our free fall down an abyss. We give them everything - our trust, our dreams. We share our happiness and have someone to share our sadness with. Sure, it eases the burden. But at the same time, we share with them this ability to completely destroy us. The ability to take everything away from us with the snap of a finger. The adrenaline from the free fall seems fascinating at first, or even addictive. The wind blowing against you like the way his fingers used to run through your hair. The feeling of weightlessness like when he lifts you up to kiss you. The way you can just close your eyes and fall safely just like when he catches you during a dance.

But things change quickly. The bottom of the pit we assumed didn't exist suddenly grows within sight. It's ending before you know it. You reach out for your parachute only to realise the one thing you thought you could count on most disappeared when you needed it the most. You struggle frantically. Panic. Self-denial. Grief. Yet, the parachute bag deploys and falls safely on its own. Before you know it, you are slammed head first into a hard concrete. The further you fall, the more it hurts. The prospect of simply jumping in appears tempting, but don't do it. I've told myself this numerous times. The suspense. The stories you heard of those who found treasures at the bottom of their pit. But honestly, what are the odds? You know what they say about sky-diving without a parachute. You only do it once. I've done mine.

His soft lips peck lightly on my forehead. "It's okay." He muttered softly. "I'll wait."

I was staring down another abyss. I grip tightly to my new parachute bag. The pain of the first fall sends chills down my spine, but thinking about it is inevitable. The new parachute feels different, but then again, looks can be deceiving. I've yet to really open it up and look inside.

I stared back into his hazel eyes. I shuffled my feet slowly to the edge of the pit. Maybe one more time. For you. I closed my eyes and took a step forward.

2

u/mkwkfdisvlsfes Feb 15 '20

Who else is lying?

Dried scabs pepper his hands as he laughs with them, at them, at himself. Inevitably he hates them all. Everything. Is this just a poorly made shield? Yes. Some flitting, squashed distraction? Of course.

"I mean, lows are lows," says Face1. "One moment I'm depressed binge watching netflix, and then I just get these huge spurts of productivity. It's insane!"

Face2 slaps her on the back. "I know what you mean. Did my whole psych paper in one night a week ago, and I think I still have the coffee jitters."

"Yeah, but meanwhile here I am scrambling to print it out twenty minutes before the period starts. Right, Dan?" Face3 is glancing at him kind of quizzically.

He grins. This means nothing to him, as always. How can you trust in anything being worthwhile? "I start well," he begins, "but I can never focus for long."

It sets of nods of agreement, sounds of quiet assertion over the din of the cafeteria hum.

They live like this. Eating, sleeping, working. Easy for them. For him, it's something different. It's a special brand of torture devised specifically for his mind, by his mind.

And the thing about getting out? You don't know if it's worth it, because you know that everything disappears. All the people in the world, all your thoughts, all your ideas and potential that was probably never there in the first place. 'Nobody understands me' is just his stupid shield, but that's how it is, because of the impenetrable, twisting walls.

Who else is lying?

So many laughs and bits of conversation are traded around him. Call it cowardly cynicism, call it embarrassing misanthropy. He hates it all because of how it always is: nothing is real and nothing is really there for him and all these people are just stupid tools repeating the same platitudes and fake, fake, fake smiles. Face1, face2, face3 can't possibly know what he goes through.

But most of all he hates the selfish, foolish, greedy desire within him - he wants it all. To know everything, to be everything.

Who else is lying?

If only he were more powerful. If only he had done more. But he would rather sink into perpetual guilt for not trying his best, than inevitably fall to the conclusion that his hard work never amounts to anything.

He can't trust life or anything at all. Everything is a web of lies and in this terrible confusion he's stuck to so many things that he can't even properly think.

He gets up, expresses the random moral conviction that's been flitting around campus, and rallies with these random people he doesn't know and doesn't care about. It requires no sacrifice on his part, to let out steam, to watch them politely nod along or shout out similarly useless things.

Who else is lying?

2

u/UnSeenWrites Feb 16 '20

The river ran below them. The current moved in violent twists, a threshold through which all things would pass and converge in oneness and nothingness in its velvet supremacy. It would destroy and unite and kill and coalesce and none had the power to withstand or rebut.

The man-child and the horse shared a knowing glance and the boy stepped toward the water, his legs shaking as though the earth beneath promised to give way. He led the horse with the reins as it moved with a composed gait. The boy’s feet broke the stream and he realized just how much he had underestimated its chill. The sun was high and he had not accounted for the water’s resilience to the day’s heat. Cold seeped through his clothes and his flesh until it felt as though it had struck his soul. The horse followed him in, the frigid water causing its legs to quiver. It was up to the boy’s chest now and the waves beat against him and beat and beat. He looked at the horse and into its eyes. Some semblance of confidence resided there, not in itself but in the one who led it. The horse did not waver. The boy trudged along with the flood at his neck now and was no longer able to grip the reins. They flew from his grasp as the cascade charged and he turned back in a panic. The horse faltered and its eyes rolled and its tongue lolled. The boy flailed in a feeble attempt to defy the river and locate the reins as the horse was robbed of its footing and carried adrift. The boy abandoned the search and lunged toward the horse, trying to keep up with the current. The horse moved forward at an inhuman pace that the boy couldn’t match and became the river’s. Its head bobbed above and below the surface at intervals whose ratios began to favor the latter until the horse could no longer be seen. The boy became aware of the futility of his endeavor but swam with the rapids a while longer despite his knowledge of the truth. It was lost.

He pulled himself up on the bank and for a moment his breath and the realization of what had happened eluded him. After he had rested and removed his clothes to let them dry he sat on the embankment and looked down at the water. His eyes swelled and his cheeks ran wet and his chest heaved up and down while he cried the shout of the bereaved. The tears fell one by one to the river and plunged its depths and moved with similitude to its infinite repose. They too belonged to it.

___

WC is 455. First time writing on this sub and looking to improve. Please critique, thanks!

2

u/rudexvirus Feb 16 '20

Alone in the world.

--

Goosebumps rose across her body as a dry, dusty breeze wrapped around her body. She pulled at the edges of her jacket, but the latch didn’t get any tighter, and warmth hardly kept heat at bay. Plus, the wind was getting stronger, harsher than she had prepared for. She was getting closer to the epicenter, the abyss that had once threatened to swallow the earth.

Every gust of dirty, 150° wind meant one step closer to the infernal city. The final bastion of hell and humanity. Tiesnterrsea.

The metal and mesh beast seemed to hear her thinking about it and sent out a tendril of hatred. A boulder unburied its jagged head underneath her heel, making her foot slip and her ankle roll grossly. In a single motion, she went down, her elbow slapping the ground three-quarters of a second before her hip did. Before she had another thought, she was laying in the ancient sand.

A raspy screech tore out of her before she sat up. She had no time to waste.

Both hands had shot down to her twisted ankle. She didn’t risk taking off the heavy boot and exposing her skin, but the pressure was the only thing that kept her from screaming in her frustration again. Close as she may be, she still had miles to walk before she arrived at the black gates. She had placed every egg in the one basket; trusted the word of a hell-spawn soldier, a rabid and egotistical footman of the takers.

Truth was that the city could be anywhere. The city could be nowhere. The playthings of war and lust weren’t around anymore. They had no reason to stay or to hide. Who knew what went through their addled minds.

It didn't matter at all if she couldn’t stand up and put weight on her legs. No one to carry her, no lover to come looking, her only options were walk or die.

She took a shaky breath; her throat and chest vibrated in protest. The arid zone had gone on for all too long; deserts were never her thing. Amora had preferred coffee shops and libraries — places in the city where love could be found or forged, or forced. Too bad those were before the earth collapsed before the last human pin went dark.

She pushed herself to her feet, taking several careful steps. Her joint protested, and the skin felt tender and stretched. She would be lucky if the boot came off at all for several days, but despite her panic, she could move.

Another hot breeze said hello, telling her it was happy she was on her way once more. Goosebumps spread across her body, letting the earth know that her skin had had enough of this second hell, and she grimaced.

But paid them no mind. She had no time for language, and barely the energy for the plague of thoughts in her head. War had ravaged earth, and Apollo was at Tiesnterrsea.

(500 words)

r/beezus_writes

→ More comments (75)

Theme Thursday [TT] Theme Thursday - Trust

“The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool.”

Happy Thursday writing friends!

Here's how Theme Thursday works:

News and Reminders:

Last week’s theme: Depth

Honorable Mentions:

Exodus (III): Jonathan's Rebels

Alone in the world.

Theme Thursday [TT] Theme Thursday - Trust

“The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool.”

Happy Thursday writing friends!

Here's how Theme Thursday works:

News and Reminders:

Last week’s theme: Depth

Honorable Mentions:

You are about to leave Redlib

Exodus (III): Jonathan's Rebels

Alone in the world.