Eddie’s Words

[Edema Rue she/her]

Hey guys, so it’s been more than a year since I made this, and wow my writing has improved…I’m not going to take anything down or change anything, but here’s some of my writing that is more…up to date, I guess

Hi! Um. Um. Um. 

I've been thinking about making one of these for a while. I don't know where it'll go, but...well, we'll see what happens. 

So, uh...here are a few little scenes I've written. These were kind of a fun little thing I did where I was trying to describe a scene or a feeling without creating any specific characters. So...here you go!

1.

Spoiler

It starts with auditions.

The tense anticipation in the room is strong, but the excitement is stronger. Both feelings carry on through callbacks. Then, for a few days, the excitement leaves. What remains is absolute terror. It grows, it grows, and they start to wonder why they even tried. And then they see the list. Tears that have been held in for too long explode out. Tears of joy, of disappointment, and of more fear. And then the work begins. Day after day after day. Choreography. Blocking. Singing. Stage combat. Stage intimacy. The days begin to blur, then the weeks, then the months. And then it’s tech week. There are no words for tech week. But it’s only a week, and then come dress rehearsals, and then…then comes the moment that reminds them why they started. The curtains are closed. The cast is backstage, laughing quietly and helping each other ignore their nerves. Techs move silently among them, carefully sliding set pieces onto the faintly glowing tape. The props are set. The performers are prepared. It’s a perfect scene; the audience murmurs, the actors whisper, and the techs make no sound at all. Those in later scenes wait in the changing rooms, laughing and chatting loudly.

And then the black light turns off. The curtains slide slowly open. The lights brighten, nearly blinding the actors, almost completely hiding the audience from view. The first line is spoken, the first song is sung. The audience is entranced, the actors exactly where they belong. Magic happens in the theatre. An actor stumbles, forgetting a line. There’s a flash of cold sweat, a moment of panic, but the others onstage, their cast, their team, their family, recover for them. It’s smooth. It’s beautiful. And after…well. The audience leaves. But the ones who made it all happen…they’re doing what they do, showing why they love it. Oh,  performing is magical. But it’s what happens after. It’s the jokes, it’s the laughter. It’s the knowledge that they are part of something more. That they did that. They made that. When they were onstage, when there was no one but themselves, they came through. And they come through, again and again and again. And then it’s closing night. The cast strikes set. And then they cry, all of them together. It’s an ending. They’ve spent so many hours with these people. They’ve grown, they’ve cried, they’ve loved. They are, in the truest sense of the word, a family. Will they see them again? Even if they do, it won’t be the same. But all things come to an end, and eventually, the cast goes home. And it’s over. A period of their lives, gone. A piece of them, missing. Is it worth the emotions? The terror, the misery, the hurt, the utter exhaustion? And through the centuries, the answer has always remained the same. 

Of course.

2.

Spoiler

The weights snap together on the bar, the thump sounding like a large book closing. Or perhaps like a cell door slamming; the painful finality is certainly the same. Straining, straining, and then the bar lifts. Sweat drips, drips, drips. It can’t be brushed away, so it rolls into the eyelashes, then falls, making it impossible to see.  Up, then back down. Then again, again, again. A shaky breath, a moment of rest.  And then it begins again. The pain never seems to end. Burning muscles, then sore muscles, day after day after day. Donuts were offered in class. But they said no. Their friends walked to a soda shop; they claimed to be busy. Candy, junk food, desserts…they forsake it all. They work harder than others can imagine. They miss parties, fail classes, and spend hours becoming stronger. They are not immune to the voices all humans hear, however. Your work does nothing. No matter how hard you try, you won’t win. These people you see, these people who don’t work for anything, they are stronger than you. They always will be. You can’t even beat yourself. You are worse than you were. You never change, no matter how hard you try, no matter how you work. Your pain changes nothing. These warriors, these heroes, these people who give their everything to change…they hide so much inside. They hurt. They hurt so much. There are days when they dream of the things they’ve left behind. They sit and wonder. What if I didn’t go to the gym today? What if I ate that candy, that cookie, that donut? What if I drank that soda, ate those pretzels? It’s been so long. Is there any worse torture than the pain they put themselves through? Things bring them less and less joy; no snacking on road-trips. No eating competitions. Eventually, there may be a time that makes it worth it. A finish line to cross. A day when they realize how far they’ve come. When the bar lifts more easily, when they’re less sore. When they see the people who did what they wanted for years, and they realize how much stronger they are than them. And even if they aren’t stronger physically, their self control is finely tempered steel. It has taken the hottest fires, the heaviest hammers, the largest forges. But the finished product is a work of art; they can resist any craving, ignore any temptation, become anything. Because they know that they will always work hard. Even if they are always slower, always weaker, always dumber, always uglier, they will never stop. No matter their weight or their looks, they are the heroes. But those moments take years. Years of work and pain for one moment. One day of slipping and they’re sent back months. Sometimes it seems as if those moments will never come, as if the pain will never end, as if their work is always redundant and useless. It hurts, but there is no other way.  And if they are asked the same question: is it worth it? Is it worth the blood and the sweat and the tears? The time and the failures, the knowledge that some people will always be better than you?

Well. Their answer is less definite. Those questions will take root, and they will think about them daily. And many of them will never be able to say more than “I don’t know.”

3.

Spoiler

They have taken our power. They have robbed us of our identities. A thousand voices shout these words, knowing they will do nothing. Shakespeare shouts it: “My wisdom. ‘To be or not to be, that is the question.’ I wrote those words,” he says. “I gave the world my wisdom, and they gave it to children like a toy. They took my words, my spells, my power, and they stretched and abused them until they couldn’t do a thing.” Do people understand what they do? Do they know that by spreading our words to the unworthy, they have taken away the one power that we have? No matter how we say them, the words can’t be what they once were. ‘Traitor’, ‘coward’, ‘monster’. ‘Hero’, ‘warrior’, ‘strong’. Words that could change a heart, words that could change the world, once. Now, they are but letters strung together. They are tools for all to use. Instead of being too sharp to be used commonly, they are now too dull to cut in even the most extreme situations. We can beg. We can cry. We can shout or scream or whisper. The presentation doesn’t matter. The power is gone. Our hate, our love, our desires and our needs cannot be described. They can, but it isn’t understood. We use some words so often that suddenly, when we desperately need them, they don’t come through. A friend isn’t in class? “He died,” we’ll joke. Someone insulted us, even slightly? “I hate you,” we’ll mutter ruefully. A sibling is too scared to go off the high dive? “Coward,” we’ll taunt. Where are these words when we need them? They’re wasting away. Losing their shine, their luster, the things they might have been, the things they once were. How much more will we lose in this modern world? How long until we forget the purpose of these words? The pain they were once capable of causing? 

There are words that we need to speak. There are people who need to understand. But there’s nothing we can say. Crying is so commonplace, it’s hardly notable. If we shout, we’re dismissed as childish. If we speak rationally, we’re accused of not caring. How can they understand what happens in our heads? How can they understand the things we feel, the places where we hurt, the lives we lead? They beg us to tell them, occasionally. They promise to listen. And listen they will, but understand? They are utterly incapable of it. So we keep writing words that no one will ever see, keep telling stories that no one will ever understand. 

It wasn’t always this way.

Maybe one day things will be different.

Well...there you go! These are just something random I did while I was bored. I'll put more stuff here as it comes into existence. If you give me a prompt, I will gladly use it as soon as I get a chance! (Though I will warn you, my brain tends to connect odd things and go in bizarre directions). Constructive criticism and any feedback you have is always welcome!

Thanks! Bye!

*runs*

Edited April 11 by Edema Rue

[That1Cellist he/him]

I love the third one. Thank you a lot. They're all really good!

How are you feeling?

[Edema Rue she/her]

Thanks!

Y'know, I'm pretty good. Better than I was last week, when I wrote that .

[Telrao she/her]

Woah! Aes, these are fantastic! I can feel the words, and they reach the heart. Words are powerful, if you know how to wield them. And you swing those words pretty hard  These are so awesome!!!

[Edema Rue she/her]

Here, have a fun bit of futuristic thievery! This was mostly me trying to figure out the relationship between those characters, it ended up being a bit longer than I expected, but here you go, enjoy!

Spoiler

“You seeing this, D?”

“Always,” a voice said in Wyn’s ear. “Actually, I’m seeing it much better than you are. Did you know that there are four cameras outside the bathroom, of all places?”

Wyn grinned, even though she couldn’t see him. “D. Please. The bathroom is one of the most obvious places to hide stolen goods, or to use as an escape route, or…anything, really.”

“Huh,” she said, and he could almost hear her shrug. “Good thing that’s not what you’re doing, then.”

“Very good thing,” Wyn muttered, scanning the strange residence in front of him. In a world so crowded that even houses were becoming a rarity, this castle, completely surrounded by forests, was unheard of. “You’re sure they’re cameras, though? I thought they abhorred modern–” he cut off as a high pitched whine sounded in his ear, flinching and yanking out the tiny earpiece. After giving his ear a chance to recover, he stuck it back in. “Jerk.”

“Who, me?” Darae said sweetly. “Technical difficulties. They happen to everyone.”

“Not you,” he retorted.

“They better not,” she said. “Now, say that again, this time without implying that I can’t recognize a camera from 8,000 miles away.”

Wyn groaned. “C’mon, D…”

“C’mon, Wy…” she said, mimicking his tone.

“Fine! Thanks to you so wisely noting their cameras, can we be sure that they’re using modern technology underneath this facade?”

“Wyn. Please. They’d have to be fools as well as insane to avoid technology completely. Besides,” Darae added slyly, “I might have sent them a letter–yes, an actual, paper letter–from a close friend suggesting that they do it.” As always, she said his name more like ‘wine’ than ‘win’.

“When? You said these are older models!”

“Oh, a year or two ago. Right about the time we…y’know. Started working together.”

“That far back? And here I thought you relied on me for strategy.”

“Ah, you never know when you’ll need to fly across the globe to steal from the most exotic people on the planet. It can’t hurt to have a nice set of cameras to hack as needed.”

“Uh huh. Could happen any day. So, we’re doing this?” Wyn asked, straightening his cape and ducking around a tree to the small road that led to the castle.

“You know it,” Darae said. “I don’t know why you’re so jumpy. It’ll be easy; at least you don’t have to fight any robots this time!”

Wyn groaned. “I don’t know where everyone got the idea that guarding their valuables with sentient robots is a good idea. Do you know how hard it is to fight those?” He nodded to a group walking near him. As per  the medieval costume party theme, they were dressed as various things, from colorful birds to superheroes. “Nope,” Darae said, crunching loudly on something. “But I had to hack into their ‘brains’, which is much worse. Careful now, they don’t want any tech inside. Our communication is completely masked, but if you have anything else that you’re somehow hiding from me, now’s the time to say.”

“I’m clean,” Wyn confirmed quietly.

“Good!” Darae said cheerily. “Now, slouch a little. If any of these people have seen the man you’re claiming to be, they’ll remember his posture.”

“Wait, what? You mean this ‘Mr. Lorypeddle’ actually exists?”

“No, he doesn’t actually exist, Wy. But I often used him as an alias before I knew you, and it’s safer than creating a new persona.” Once again, Wyn was reminded of how little he knew of Darae. In the two years since they’d broken out of Schuel together, they’d performed countless heists. He’d become a legend, and, just like she wanted, she’d been forgotten. During that time, they’d almost constantly been apart, but they’d never been more than a second away. Yes, Wyn was usually thousands of miles away in any given direction, but Darae was always there, in his ear, watching his back. And yet…neither of them spoke about before. Before they met, how they became who they were. Wyn had gathered bits and pieces of her story, and she his, but times like this reminded him of how little he really knew this girl on whom his life depended. 

From there, Wyn’s thoughts started to spiral out of control, and panic began to take over. How much did he know anyone? Would Darae betray him? She hadn’t yet, but perhaps she was waiting for him to trust her more? No. No! He gritted his teeth, breathing through the terror. All this time, and he was still so vulnerable…but she wouldn’t betray him. She had proved trustworthy again and again. And he was stronger now, stronger than he’d ever been before. It would be all right. He blinked, realizing Darae was talking.

“Wy? Wy! I swear, if this thing breaks on us now…” There was a sound of rapid typing in the background.

“I’m here.” 

“Stars, man! Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry, D. I just…got stuck in my head. Again.”

“Wy…”

“I know!” Wyn snapped, drawing a few stares. Luckily, this party was specifically for those who were known to be less than sane, and their attention soon turned to a man who was sitting in the road, sucking on his own toe. “I know,” Wyn said, more quietly. 

“This has been happening more often, hasn’t it.” 

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway. “Yeah. It always gets bad this time of year.” 

“Like…mental allergies.”

Wyn chuckled. He knew that she understood; Darae had her own demons. She also knew that talking about them wouldn’t change anything, at least not right now. He silently thanked her for just…being. “Yup. Mental seasonal allergies.”

“Well, try not to let your brain sneeze in the middle of something important. Now, once you get in, your main objective is the necklace. Their whole mansion is open for guests, but most people won’t even leave the ballroom. To stay inconspicuous, you’ll want to…” Wyn smiled, enjoying her explanation. Darae’s calm logic was a constant, a dependable source of…

“After you attack the flying pineapples, you’ll need to—”

“Flying pineapples.”

“Oh, so you are listening to me?”

“Um…”

“Too bad it took you so long,” Darae said. “You missed a really cool description of why knowing how to multiply kittens is going to be important tonight.”

“Do you want to repeat it?”

“Nah, you ruined the moment.” She went on, repeating what she’d said before as Wyn grew closer to the front of the line. Like she’d told him, he was slouching slightly and muttering to himself. It would cover it when he had to talk to Darae, and besides, it was fun.

“Flying pineapples,” he whispered excitedly.

“You’re overdoing it, Wy,” he could almost hear her eye roll, almost see her blue hair and headphones. Headphones were old fashioned, but they made her ‘feel like a hacker’, which was, apparently, very important for her to work.

“You’re the one who told me to do it,” Wyliin said, looking intently at the sky as if talking to a spirit. The people around him chuckled, excited for a night surrounded by freaks.

“If you seem too entertaining, it’ll be harder for you to slip away.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that. “Fine,” he whispered, showing his invitation and letting them prick his thumb. In an age where people changed their appearances so drastically and so often, the only real way to tell identity was through DNA. For most people, this made hiding or faking identities nearly impossible. But he had Darae. They waved him through the door, and he grinned at them, then froze as he stepped inside.

A moment later, laughter echoed through the earpiece. “You should see your face,” Darae gasped. “Just for that, this whole thing is worth it.”

Wyn just shook his head, too awed to respond. The room was…majestic. It was like something out of a dream, something that shouldn’t exist. There were huge chandeliers over the ceiling, a tiled dance floor, and oh, the music. Wyn hadn’t heard a real orchestra in years. He wished he could see the musicians, but they appeared to be in a separate room, under the floor. It made for a better sound, and left more room for dancing. And there was dancing! Perhaps due to the ban on unnatural skin and hair colors, everyone was trying their best to outshine each other with their costumes. Looking at that room, he could see why the Eoilaans wanted such a world so strongly.

A sharp gasp surprised him. “Wy, we have to go.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Look to your right. On the stage. You see Lady Eoliaan?” 

“The one dressed as a cyborg? Yeah.”

“That’s not a costume, Wy.”

Wyn frowned. “You mean…she’s actually a cyborg?”

“Yeah. Wy, you have to get out of there.”

Darae wouldn’t lie about something like this, and she was never mistaken when there was technology involved. If she was against it, he wasn’t going to argue. “What’s my fastest way out? I can’t go back through the front, not with everyone coming in that way.”

“There’s a garden out back. Meander slowly to the opposite side of the room you’re in. You’ll see a doorway. Go through it.”

Wyn started walking, keeping his eyes on the floor and mumbling. “Why are cyborgs so bad, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I mind,” Darae muttered. Then she sighed. “It’s…she might be able to find our communicator, especially since she’s so much closer than I am. And…I have history with cyborgs. There are sides of me you don’t know, Wy. I can’t let that demon out again.”

Wyn could tell there was more, but he didn’t press it. “If she can tell, why hasn’t she already thrown me out?”

Darae groaned. “You really are clueless, aren’t you. It doesn’t work like that, especially when you have me masking it. She’ll be able to tell something’s there, but not who has it. And…” she cursed. “Too late.” Wyn looked up to see the lady of the house right in front of him. 

“Are you well?” The cyborg asked, looking concerned. At least, as concerned as a cyborg can.

Wyn grinned. “There are people here!” He confided. “People!”

“Clever,” Darae murmured. “Her tech is remarkably advanced, but she’s covered it with chunky plastic and dramatic makeup so that it looks fake. Her leg is actually missing, but the hand is just covered by a special glove; she’s actually only missing a couple fingers. It’s daring, though, for her to add a real screen instead of an eye…if you need to fight her, just try to pull off her leg, or maybe the control panel on the back of her neck.”

“Mmm…yes. You’ll get used to them,” Lady Eoliaan said distastefully. She stepped around him, muttering something about opportunists. 

“Told you you were overdoing it,” Darae said. 

“Whatever. It worked.” He continued his slow gait around the ballroom, eventually coming across the door Darae has mentioned. He stepped through and found himself in a beautiful garden, dark after the bright ballroom. There were a few guests milling about, but he soon found an empty clearing. “What now?”

“Now,” a voice said on his left, “you come with us and explain exactly what you were intending to do tonight.” Wyn turned to find several guards behind him. They were dressed in exaggerated, fanciful armor. He made a show of looking around before looking back to them, surprised.

“Me? I’m just enjoying–”

“Cut the drama,” Lady Eoliaan ordered, stepping out from behind the guards. 

“This is bad,” Darae murmured. “This is very, very bad. Wyn, you have to get out of there as fast as you can. I’ll try to help…don’t…stars, this is bad…I can’t…any longer.” her voice cut into static, and then was gone. Wyn eyed the guards, ready to fight, when he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his back. He cursed as the world faded around him.

The next thing Wyn knew, he was blinking groggily at a stone ceiling. If that wasn’t weird enough, the walls were stone too, and when he turned his head, there were metal bars. He groaned, closing his eyes as he tried to remember the night before. Clearly things hadn’t gone as planned, but he and Darae had survived much, much worse…Darae!

“D!” Wyn whispered frantically. “D! D? C’mon, are you there? D-Darae?”

No response.

“Stars…D.” A thought occurred to him, and he reached up to his ear. The earpiece, so small he could normally barely feel it, was gone. Darae would kill him for that. He sat up straight as he heard footsteps approaching his…cell? This really was a medieval prison cell, wasn’t it. Ridiculous high society. They had too much time and money for their own good. Lady Eoliaan walked into his sight, and he sighed. After a moment, he realized he was waiting for Darae to make a snide comment. 

‘How much do you want to bet you’re about to end up back in Schuel?’ She’d say. Or she’d find a solution. She’d do a lot of things that he couldn’t. Wyn was so used to her always being there that now…he was relying on her too much. Why had he trusted her so much? She’d betrayed him. She’d left him. She’d claimed to be his friend, his partner. How foolish he’d been to believe her. How foolish he’d been to expect things to be different. There are sides of me you don’t know, Wy. She’d said. What was he missing? Who was this girl he’d pinned his hopes on? Wyn blinked,  realizing the cyborg had spoken.

“Uh, what was that?”

She cocked her head at him. Her costume was gone; now she wore a long dress that covered her feet and gloves that came to her elbows, though the metal around her eye was still visible. “You are Wyn. You’ve become a bit of a legend, in the right circles.”

“Thanks?” He said, rubbing his head tiredly. 

“That said, I did not expect you to be so…inadequate.”

Wyn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to think, to get past this. He didn’t have time to get lost in his thoughts now, didn’t have time to waste. If she sent him back to Schuel…and there. A weakness he could exploit. “Why am I still here?”

“What?”

“There are large rewards for me all over the world, and we both know how you value your money. So I repeat, why am I still here?”

She smiled. “Clever. That’s more of what I expected.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Wyn said, frustrated. He wouldn’t survive having too much time to think, not now. And he had a pounding headache, courtesy of whatever star-cursed sedative they’d used.

“No,” Lady Eoliaan said. “I didn’t. But I will.” She slipped a thin tablet through the bars. “My husband sees a criminal. But I…I see a tool that can be used. One that will help the world, rather than hurt it. There’s a list on there of the houses I want you to hit. Steal from them for us, and you’ll be freed. You and your tech friend are exactly what we need.”

Wyn didn’t trust her with a single bone in his body. But…he trusted her insanity. And he was in her power here. If she let him out, he’d be free. There was no way he’d let her get her claws on him again. He’d have a chance to figure out his mind, to get back to Darae…

“I’m in.”

If you actually read that, good job! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Edited April 1, 2023 by Aes Sedai

[Edema Rue she/her]

Sorry for double posting. I don’t know if anyone even reads this  but, uh, I’m writing a thing and want to put it somewhere  because I think it’s going to be kinda fun 

So here, have a very depressing prologue:

Spoiler

“I’ve thought about this letter for years. If I’d write it. When. What I’d say,” the note read. “If you look through my things, which I’m sure you will, you’ll find hundreds of pages of writing. They are the foundation of this creation. This letter is the last thing I’ll leave on this earth. It should be so many things. It should be a work of art. Something beautiful and heart-wrenching and true. Above all, it should be true. 

“But that’s where this gets tricky. Because no matter how often I write, no matter how many words I put on paper in rage, I always come back to the same solution; it’s my fault. Arbil, when you read this, know that we could have been friends. We could have been the kind of siblings you see in a storybook. But we aren’t. Weren’t.” 

Arbil turned his head, careful not to let his tears fall on the page If only he had known. If only he had cared enough to find out. “It isn’t your fault. I’ve spent countless hours trying to blame you for everything. But I can’t do that and still be honest with myself. It’s my fault. It always has been. It always will be. Don’t mourn me. I’m not worth the trouble.”

Not worth the—Arbil found himself chuckling bitterly. This was either the most selfless thing he’d ever seen, or the most stubborn. They would mourn her…he pressed on, seeing the power that words held for what was perhaps the first time. 

“You’ll mourn me anyway, I expect. Fine. Just do it quickly. I only cause hurt, only bring pain. No…only caused hurt. Only brought pain. Because I’m free now. Can’t you see? Mother. Arbil. Father. I’ve brought you all so much hurt. I’ve brought you all so much pain. Don’t let me hurt you more with the one sensible choice I’ve ever made. Please. My death is near, now, but I’ve never felt so alive, never seen so clearly. 

“Love is key. There is nothing more powerful, nothing more wonderful, nothing that will bring you more joy. I’ve torn our family apart. If you’re going to mourn me, at least let it bring you together. Let me bring you together, just once. I don’t know how to love. Trying to love me has brought you all so much pain, and I’m sorry. You don’t have to try anymore. I feel freer than I ever have. Unlike everything else, this is my decision. Not yours. Not theirs. It doesn’t belong to the demons in my head. 

“I could write more, but anything I say here you’ll find a thousand times over in my other papers. This has been happening for years now, these demons. Remember: fueled by emotion, you can do anything. Use that wisely. Live your lives better than I ever could have. Thank you for caring all these years. Thank you for being stronger than I was. When we meet again, I hope that I am worthy to be with you.”

Arbil shook his head, furious. What right did she have to put them through this pain? If she really wanted to stop hurting them, she shouldn’t have killed herself. Ryn always had been stubborn. Thinking of her in past tense was like sticking a thousand needles in his heart, and he let out a sob. The first sound he’d made since entering her room. He let the letter fall to the floor. It landed, soft as a feather, near her cheek. Arbil stared at the corpse that had been his sister for another long moment.

Then he fell to his knees, resting a hand on her cheek. She was still warm. A howl of fury and pain twisted inside him, begging to be released, and he gave in, the sound of it ripping at his heart, his throat, his soul. Drawn by the noise, an unnatural sound this late in the night, his parents rushed in. Arbil wordlessly handed them the letter and strode out. His tears had stopped, and now he was angry. Furious. 

Because while he had mourned, his mind hadn’t stopped working. If Ryn was dead, he was the house heir. So many disasters in such a short time. He’d been the 6th in line. Now he was first. He was going to…what, avenge his siblings? They’d all died by their own hands. How many more people would leave him? Would he go too? Was it worth trying to keep living?

Yes. The force behind the word struck him to his bones. That wasn’t his own thought. You are stronger than all of us, the voices whispered. Live. Protect our house. Stay out of your head before it kills you like it did us. This was ridiculous. The dead were gone. They didn’t speak to their families. But the twisting, curling whispers…

“Ryn?” Arbil asked quietly.

I’m here, a solitary whisper said. I’m sorry.

“You should be, you jerk. You left me! All of you! You keep leaving me.” 

We know. But we’re here, more than we could be otherwise. We planned this, ever since we realized you were untouched.

“You planned this?! Y-you…what do you mean, untouched?” 

You don’t have the demons in your mind, one of the voices said. This is the only way we can protect you. 

“Caleb?” Arbil breathed. It had been years since he’d heard his oldest brother’s voice. “I don’t need protecting. Not from you.”

You’re right, Ryn confirmed, but we’re here anyway, because someday you will. 

And then the voices were gone. Arbil shook his head, muttering several words his mother would not have liked to hear. He started jogging, then sprinting down to the training grounds. He found a sword, and fell into forms that he’d spent years practicing. 5 years. 5 deaths. 5 times he had fallen into his training. 5 times it hadn’t been enough to save them. 5 times he had failed. He would never fail again.

If you do read it, thanks! Please give me feedback, and I’m always looking for prompts.  

[Telrao she/her]

Woahhhh Aes that is so gooood

That sets an awesome scene for a story! Now I am extremely intrigued - this is great!

[Veledsier]

I would love to do this too! anyone have a prompt for me? Although it won't be as good as the ones on here already! Good job!

 

[Telrao she/her]

23 minutes ago, Veledsier said:

I would love to do this too! anyone have a prompt for me? Although it won't be as good as the ones on here already! Good job!

You can make a topic for your writing, if you like

We're always happy to give you prompts! Just make sure you make a topic for it, first  

[Edema Rue she/her]

17 hours ago, Veledsier said:

I would love to do this too! anyone have a prompt for me? Although it won't be as good as the ones on here already! Good job!

Yeah, so the way this works is that you create your own thread and then put your own creativity there, whether that’s writing, drawing, music, etc. 

On 4/1/2023 at 10:41 PM, Telrao said:

Woahhhh Aes that is so gooood

That sets an awesome scene for a story! Now I am extremely intrigued - this is great!

Thank you so much Telrao!! Here, have chapter 1:

Spoiler

The few who knew we existed called us the Changers. It wasn’t a very creative name, but it was fitting; we changed things. The same way a clever assassination tipped politics just the right way. In fact, we often worked closely with assassins. Our work was a beautiful art, full of dangerous subtleties. Kill just the right person, in just the right way, then send one of us in to make sure the grief changed a leader the way we wanted. 

That was a simple example, of course. Our goal was peace. We were allied with no kingdom, but if a leader or prominent Lord or Lady was acting erratically, in a way that could cause problems, one of us was sent in. We worked in a thousand different ways, and often had but a single job; one of the best ways to change someone was seduction, and if a lover suddenly left, it could undo all that we had worked for. Our work was important. Nothing mattered more than our success. 

I repeated this to myself hundreds of times during the carriage ride. I wasn’t ready for this. I’d only had a couple jobs before this, and while I had done well, I certainly wasn’t ready for a king, let along King Arbil Otrune. The King of Sodum was, simply put, a monster. But Sodum was one of the most prominent kingdoms in the world, and so something had to be done. 

“You look nervous, Crestta,” Kandl said, looking me in the eye. 

“I am nervous.” I’d learned long ago to always be blunt with my teacher. It was refreshing to both of us.

“You should be. Tell me what you know.”

I took a deep breath. “Probably due to the childhood trauma of losing all his older siblings at such a young age, he’s grown into a ruthless king. He controls everything, even things that shouldn’t be controlled. Recently, he’s been building his army and collecting taxes from small villages just outside of Sodum’s borders. It’s safe to assume that he’s preparing to conquer surrounding countries.”

“Good. Your mission?” These questions were routine, just a way to calm my nerves. We both knew the answers already, but they helped.

“My job is to calm him down; I am to keep him from starting a war, and make him focus on the issues he’s overlooking in his own kingdom.”

Kandl nodded, smiling faintly. “And the method?”

I grinned. This would be a fun part to play. “I, as the petulant daughter of a country noblewoman, and his 3rd cousin, will be consistently competing with him, playing on his sense of pride in order to improve his kingdom. As I go, I will be showing him the little joys of life, and showing him how he’s broken the backs of his own people.”

“And you chose this method because?” 

“The king is young, barely 18. He’s exhibited childish behavior often since his rise to power, and his pride is one of the few consistencies we can depend on.”

Kandl nodded, his smile fading and his old eyes growing serious. “What will happen if you fail?”

“If I fail,” I said steadily, “the assassins will take care of him.”

“And if they fail?”

I shook my head. “Stars help us.”

The carriage stopped, and Kandl nodded briskly. “Good. You are ready for this, my dear. Remember the stakes. Don’t let your emotions control you. You know how to send your reports. Good luck.” 

“Thank you, Master,” I said formally, but Kandl shook his head.

“I all but raised you, Cres. Come here.” I did, and he wrapped his arms around me in a hug. “We trust you.”

I nodded, not letting the emotions control me. Then I climbed out of the carriage, ruefully thinking of my comfortable breeches as my dress caught on the seat. As I accepted the coachman’s hand down, I arranged my face properly; annoyance, boredom, haughtiness. I glided into the palace, leaving the servants to bring my bags. 

It was time to get to work. 

 

Edited April 4, 2023 by Aes Sedai

[Edema Rue she/her]

Oki I’m double posting (whoops) but my friends were giving me prompts at a very unhealthy hour of the night, actually technically of the morning, so behold the glorious results. 

The bold part is the prompt, don’t ask what they’re about because I have no idea 

Spoiler

“I get it,” Kyran said, feeling tears in his eyes. “I do. You can’t go on with me here, and someone has to be sacrificed.” No one met his gaze. 

“It’s not…it isn’t like that…” Elsery trailed off weakly. 

He chuckled bitterly. “Don’t lie to yourselves. Now leave. You’re running out of time, and you don’t want to see what I can do with these.” He glanced down at the guns in his hands. It had been years since he’d used one, but even now they seemed to thrum eagerly, excited for the fight. He took a breath as the others hurried into the tunnel together, pointedly ignoring him. It was a clever trap. Exactly 5 people had to enter together. No more, no less. 

And with his curse…Kyran never would’ve been able to enter the sanctuary anyway. Complete immortality, unless killed in a fight. He hadn’t fought anyone in decades, but the centuries of expirience were there. At least this way, the ones he loved would be safe. Once they made it to the sanctuary, through the portal, they would be safe. They would have the happy ending they’d always deserved, safe, and peaceful. And this way, he wouldn’t have to watch them die, just like he had everyone else. Kyran started at a noise, looking up to see an old…acquaintance. 

“Old friend,” Dieln said coldly. “They left you.”

“It was the right choice,” Kyran said, trying to believe it. It had been the right choice, at least, for them it had. 

“And yet you’re left alone. Again. Just me and you. It always ends with us.” There was movement in the trees behind him, and Dieln grinned joylessly. “And them.”

Kyran laughed too. “At least you finally recognize that you need an army to even threaten me.”

Dieln scowled. “I could kill you here and now without any help. I brought them to destroy the portal.”

“I’d like to remind you that you’ve never seen me fight,” Kyran said, “and that I have nothing left to lose.”

“I’ve never had anything to lose.”

“And that is half the reason I’ve let you live all these years. You’ve killed so many people, but you’ve never lived like they have. Until you’ve found something to fight for and lost it, you haven’t had a chance to live, and everyone deserves a life.” His eyes darkened. “You are an unworthy opponent, but the longing for blood has built up these last few decades. Your army should suffice.”

Dieln’s eyes filled with rage, and he stepped forward, furious. “You have no idea—” Kyran’s bullet took him in the forehead. 

“Whoops,” Kyran said nonchalantly. “Guess I’ll never know.” Now, he thought darkly, the real work begins. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and suddenly the surrounding forest was gone. He was careful to leave the cavern Elsery and the others had entered untouched; it had taken too much delicate work to create it, and he didn’t have time for delicacy now. It had been years since he’d last killed someone, and the longing was growing unbearable with such easy prey so close. 

He raised tall rock spires around the army, sealing them in. With the trees gone, there was no cover. Just him and a few thousand soldiers, and Dieln’s corpse. No…Dieln wasn’t dead. Interesting. The boy had actually learned to Heal himself from head wounds already? Kyran walked forward as the much younger man sat up. 

“What are you?” Dieln asked, looking shakily around. It was quite a dramatic change, from thick forest to barren stone arena. 

“I am anything I want to be,” Kyran said, looking him in the eye. “I created the world as you know it. I am what you could someday become.” He considered for a moment, then shrugged. “I’ll tell you a secret, boy. You’re young, only a couple centuries old, right?” Dieln nodded. “It only gets worse. You think the longing is bad for you now? You’ll build up an immunity. It’ll take more and more to satisfy you, and more often as well. There were others with me once, but their minds couldn’t take the pain of it. Mine won’t last much longer. Take your death for the gift that it is.” Kyran shot him in the head before he could answer, then twice more to make sure he didn’t come back. 

Then Kyran looked at the soldiers and grinned, magically reloading his guns. 

***

Just under an hour later, Kyran let his guns disappear and sighed in satisfaction. The longing was gone, for now. He stepped around a pool of blood, though he was already covered in the stuff. The whole expanse was a mess of blood, splintered bone, and organs. Not one of them had put up a good fight. He closed his eyes, and a moment later the land was restored to how it originally was: a thick forest, a small pile of rocks marking the enterance to a cavern. The cavern. His greatest creation. A way to save the people he’d chosen to care about…he spun, hearing a clatter. Elsery stepped out of the cave, followed by Darina, Milera, Wert, and Crom. They all looked horrified.

“You…you killed them.” Darina finally said. “All of them. Just like that.”

“I…” Kyran found himself speechless. It had been a long time since anyone had stayed. “Yes.”

“Why?” Elsery begged. “They were people, just people. Just like y…like us.”

Kyran closed his eyes, sighing. “It’s complicated. Please, just go.”

“Why should we?” Wert demanded. “How do we know we won’t end up dead too?”

Kyran pursed his lips, angry. “I would never stoop to killing people with such petty tricks. Besides,” he added, “if I wanted you dead, you would be. It’s that simple.”

Milera just stared sadly. “All those people…dead. Gone. You kill so easily.”

Kyran flinched like a knife has been rammed into his heart. He hadn’t always been this way, but he could hardly remember the time when he hadn’t. It hurt. It always hurt, when people saw him for what he was. “I…I’m sorry. This is who I am. I didn’t want you to see, because it isn’t good. But I promise you, you will be safe if you make it through that tunnel. Please. Just go.”

“How do you know?” Wert asked angrily. “This thing is a legend. We’ve been going entirely off myth this whole time.”

Crom shook his head, speaking for the first time. “No,” he said slowly. “He knew.”

“What? How could anyone…”

“You heard him. He…he created it. Didn’t you, Ky?”

Kyran nodded, smiling faintly. “Yes. You don’t have to believe me; if you stay, it won’t hurt me at all. This is only for your own benefit.”

“Why do you care about us? If you can kill so many of them, so quickly, why do you care…” Milera started crying, and Elsery put an arm around her, glaring at Kyran.

He sighed, his heart stinging. This would hurt for a long time. “Go, or don’t. I need to go. If I see you again…” he closed his eyes, letting the pain wash over him. “I’m sorry.”

This one is super short but kinda freaky:

Spoiler

There’s this girl in the mirror. I wonder who she is. I almost think I know her. I almost wish I did. There is a story in her eyes, a story of lullabies and sleepless nights and goodbyes. When I look at her, I can tell she’s tired. When I look at her, I see a light she herself cannot begin to imagine.

When I look at her, I see a monster. 

I am not a monster. I am not this girl. I am not the person I see in the mirror. No, I am something far worse. The mirrors don’t show the truth. The mirrors show possibilities. That girl and I were the same, once. Where did I go wrong? At what point did my fate become inevitable?

Nothing is inevitable, the girl in the mirror whispers. All things can be changed, undone, remade. 

She’s wrong. Once a volcano explodes, it can’t take back the flames and smoke. Once a tsunami rushes through a city, the buildings can never be perfectly restored. Once a person dies, they can’t be brought back.

Trust me, I tell the girl in the mirror, I’ve tried. The girl doesn’t respond. She never has. She never will. She doesn’t exist. She is a memory, a reminder of a different time. A time before I  forgot how to love. A time before my world fell apart. 

Could I be that girl again? No. The ruts I drive in are too deep; I can never change. Not anymore. Once cement hardens, the only way to change it is to destroy it and start again. Is it time to destroy it, time to start all over again? I silently ask the girl in the mirror. She is silent, her blank smile and cheerful eyes proof that she is only a fiction. 

The mirror shatters, and it takes me a moment to realize I did it. I’m losing control. No, I lost control long ago. I’ve just been hiding it. That girl in the mirror may have been a monster, but I am a demon. Turning from the broken glass, I see a deep spring surrounded by trees. I look into the still water, and my reflection greets me. 

The water doesn’t lie.

The water shows the truth. 

I grin. This is who I am. The water beckons me, cool and clean and pure. It is home to a thousand demons just like me. It is a place of dark, vile creatures. It is home. 

A long claw breaks the surface, blacker than the water below, blacker than the moonless sky above. The sky is not pure. The sky is tainted by a thousand little pinpricks of light. The water is better, darker, safer, but it too falls short. It reflects the sky, after all. It reflects the impurities and the darkness. 

But the claw…the claw has no imperfections. It is as deep as the hand and arm that follow it out of the water. It reaches up, and the arm grows, never revealing a body, only stretching, stretching, until it reaches my face. It caresses my cheek. 

Come home, daughter, it calls mournfully. Come home.

I blink, trying to remember where I am. “Home? What a peculiar notion.”

I am home, it says, pleading. Come to me.

Then, suddenly, the claw recoils, and I blink, memories fading. Where am I? What am I? The sky is dark above me. The water is darker below. The ground beneath me is hard, but bright, brighter than the stars above. 

I turn away from the water, trying to understand the stranger reality surrounding me. 

I see a mirror.

There’s this girl in the mirror. I wonder who she is. I almost think I know her. I almost wish I did. There is a story in her eyes…

Oki there you have the weird ramblings of a very tired brain, please give me feedback or anything because I think triple posting is frowned on more than double posting 

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

I like the Kyran one a lot!

[Edema Rue she/her]

Thank you 

Here are a couple little poems I wrote just for fun:

Spoiler

There are 60 seconds in a minute,

60 minutes in an hour,

24 hours in a day,

7 days in a week,

4 weeks in a month,

12 months in a year;

10 years in a decade.

It takes moments to lose a friend, but it takes a lifetime to rebuild.

It takes months to prepare for a performance that takes hours.

It takes years to build the strength for the split second it takes to cross the finish line.

It takes decades to write a book that someone will read in a week.

10 minutes to run a mile; 10 minutes to drive to work.

30 minutes to create art; 30 minutes to walk to school.

Countless hours daily to develop a friendship; countless hours daily to scroll through a phone.

Time moves so quickly.

What a waste our lives have been.

Spoiler

A thousand tears. 

A thousand tears fall from the sky,

A thousand tears it seems to cry.

Whether in mourning or regret,

Or perhaps from loss and time ill-spent. 

A thousand tears jump down from the sky

A thousand tears that fail to die. 

Do they wonder, do they doubt? 

Do they long to ‘sleep it out’?

A thousand tears and nothing changes; they fall and they hurt, they fail and they cry, and nothing changes.

A thousand tears won’t make you care.

A thousand tears don’t change a heart. 

A thousand tears to help a soul.

A thousand tears I cry at night, a thousand tears that burn and ache.

I’d yell a hundred words to you, a thousand words I keep locked inside. 

I’d say them all, I truly would.

I want to hit someone, to make them hurt and feel and think. I want to hurt a thousand people. 

If I were braver, if I were better. 

The same is true for both me and you:

Old dogs don’t learn new tricks.

 

[SymphonianBookworm she/her]

3 hours ago, Edema Ruh said:

Thank you 

Here are a couple little poems I wrote just for fun:

  Hide contents

There are 60 seconds in a minute,

60 minutes in an hour,

24 hours in a day,

7 days in a week,

4 weeks in a month,

12 months in a year;

10 years in a decade.

It takes moments to lose a friend, but it takes a lifetime to rebuild.

It takes months to prepare for a performance that takes hours.

It takes years to build the strength for the split second it takes to cross the finish line.

It takes decades to write a book that someone will read in a week.

10 minutes to run a mile; 10 minutes to drive to work.

30 minutes to create art; 30 minutes to walk to school.

Countless hours daily to develop a friendship; countless hours daily to scroll through a phone.

Time moves so quickly.

What a waste our lives have been.

  Hide contents

A thousand tears. 

A thousand tears fall from the sky,

A thousand tears it seems to cry.

Whether in mourning or regret,

Or perhaps from loss and time ill-spent. 

A thousand tears jump down from the sky

A thousand tears that fail to die. 

Do they wonder, do they doubt? 

Do they long to ‘sleep it out’?

A thousand tears and nothing changes; they fall and they hurt, they fail and they cry, and nothing changes.

A thousand tears won’t make you care.

A thousand tears don’t change a heart. 

A thousand tears to help a soul.

A thousand tears I cry at night, a thousand tears that burn and ache.

I’d yell a hundred words to you, a thousand words I keep locked inside. 

I’d say them all, I truly would.

I want to hit someone, to make them hurt and feel and think. I want to hurt a thousand people. 

If I were braver, if I were better. 

The same is true for both me and you:

Old dogs don’t learn new tricks.

 

Take my rep. These are beautiful.

[Edema Rue she/her]

On 4/11/2023 at 11:27 AM, SymphonianBookworm said:

Take my rep. These are beautiful.

Thank you so much!! They were fun to write.

Here are a couple more things I did, this first one is a slam poem I wrote for school,

Spoiler

I could have been an actor.

I could have been a singer.

I could have been an author, 

Or a dancer, 

Or a dreamer.

I could have been a queen,

Or a warrior,

Or a hero.

 

If I had been born in a different time, 

 

If I had tried in earlier years.

If I could look at the sky and see different stars,

If the stars looked back,

If they called me one of their own.

 

A thousand ‘if’s’ that define my life,

 

With every ‘if’ we keep inside,

With every star that laughs from the sky,

We know that we lie.

Behind every fiction is an author.

Behind every wish is a truth.

 

I wasn’t born in a story.

 

I wasn’t born to win my race.

No matter how enticing the fiction seems,

We live in this world,

And our choices don’t change reality.

 

Perhaps in another time, I’d shine like a star.

 

Perhaps in another time, I’d live a dream.

In another world, I would go far.

In another world, I wouldn’t see my seams.

 

But this is the world I have;

 

This is the life I live.

Like a lone tree on a plain,

I am out of place.

A tree belongs in a forest, not a field.

 

In another world, I wouldn’t be stuck.

 

In another world, I would learn to fly.

In another world, you would watch me soar.

 

What a good liar am I.

 

And this one is a response to a prompt one of my friends gave me!

Spoiler

“Surprise! I’m back from the dead. Excited?” I lifted my head slightly at the sound of Talin’s voice. It had worked. Our plan had worked…so far. It could still go wrong. If Talin realized I was here, saw my condition, he’d get emotional. He’d lose control. So I slid back beneath the rubble as much as I could, though it was nearly impossible to move with so many stones on top of me. I should have known better than to try to fight a wizard on my own.

 No matter. It was too late now. As far as Talin knew, I was safe. When he went below after the fight to find me…I held in a cough as I felt something dripping into my eye. How strange. I wasn’t that sweaty, was I? Red blocked my vision for a moment as blood dripped onto the ground below. Oh yes. I was wounded. 

“How?” Eirne’s raspy voice finally responded. I couldn’t see either of them, but I could picture how Eirne’s face must look easily, and I chuckled at the thought. The chuckle turned into a cough. Oops. I probably had several broken ribs. For some reason, this struck me as funny. Had I hit my head? That wasn’t good. I blinked rapidly, trying to think. Eirne was talking…what was he saying? Straining my focus, I could barely understand him. 

“It doesn’t matter how you’re alive.” Eirne finally said. “You’re going to fail.”

“Am I?” Talin taunted. “You didn’t think I’d be back. You have no idea what we’re doing, no idea how doomed you are.”

“We?” Eirne asked, so innocently that I knew everything was about to go wrong. 

Talin chuckled, incredulous. Inwardly, I cursed his foolishness. He’d always been so dense. But there was nothing I could do, trapped as I was. “You mean you really haven’t figured it out? Ace is destroying your army as we speak.” I groaned softly. No! Don’t mention me…but the damage had been done.

“Your lover?” Einre roared with laughter, a sound that had once been familiar. “She’s over there. If she’s still alive, that is.” I imagined him gesturing at the wreckage, pictured Talin running, and a moment later, footsteps pounded the dust next to my head. 

“Ace…” Talin whispered, his voice as gentle as I’d ever heard it. His hand started to glow, and I knew what he was going to do.

“No,” I snapped. “You will not save me with the power you should be using to kill him.” Maybe I would have been more convincing if I hadn’t started coughing up blood at the end. I ignored the pain, looking into Talin’s eyes pleadingly.

“Please,” he whispered. “I can’t…I can’t do this without you, Ace. Let me heal you. It’s my fault you can’t heal yourself. It’s my fault.” He was crying. I freed one of my arms and lifted it to his face, wiping away the tears.

“Don’t cry, love. You know as well as I do why I sacrificed my power,” I choked, then caught my breath desperately. “I’m not afraid of death. I never have been. This is the only way for you—for us—to win.”

“I don’t care,” Talin said, fresh tears flowing. “Don’t you understand? If you’re gone, none of it matters. I don’t care about beating him. I don’t care if he destroys the world, in the end. As long as I have you, we win. Please, Ace. Don’t leave me.

I felt my own tears start then, but they didn’t change the truth. “Oh, Tal. I love you more than life itself. But if he destroys the world, how many more will suffer?” My eyes hardened. “If you throw away this shot, how many more hearts will you be knowingly tearing apart?”

He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly angry. “Can’t you stop being so selfless, just once? You always care so much about the rest of the world. The world has never helped us, Ace, not once. And yet you’re so determined to save them. We can find another way. Just let me save you, and I will do anything you ask. Anything.” One of his tears fell, splatting on my forehead. I barely felt it. I was running out of time.

“No.”

He sat back, trembling. “What makes you think I can do this?” He finally asked. “How do you know I won’t just fall apart the second you’re gone?”

I smiled faintly. “I know you, Tal. You are a hero, down to your core. I have seen your highs and lows, but through it all, you never stop fighting.” I coughed weakly. “It will hurt, Tal. It won’t ever stop hurting. But if you remember anything of me, remember this: I have loved you through it all. I loved you when you were a monster. I love you as a hero. Nothing you can do will touch my love for you. And whether it is in moments or decades, when we meet again…” I was gasping for breath now, but I had to finish. “When we meet again, we will be the champions. No matter what.”

There were so many words I still needed to say, but I was out of time. I felt my arm go limp, and it dropped from Talin’s face. He leaned over me, holding me close, crying. But only for a moment. Then he let out a roar, a horrid sound of rage and pain and raw emotion. That sound promised death. He whirled towards Einre. Inside my broken body, I smiled. He’d come through. Just like he always did.

And then the world faded into blackness, and I knew no more.

That second one got a lot sadder than I originally intended, but I'm happy with how it turned out. Enjoy!!

[Telrao she/her]

1 hour ago, Edema Ruh said:

Thank you so much!! They were fun to write.

Here are a couple more things I did, this first one is a slam poem I wrote for school,

  Reveal hidden contents

I could have been an actor.

I could have been a singer.

I could have been an author, 

Or a dancer, 

Or a dreamer.

I could have been a queen,

Or a warrior,

Or a hero.

 

If I had been born in a different time, 

 

If I had tried in earlier years.

If I could look at the sky and see different stars,

If the stars looked back,

If they called me one of their own.

 

A thousand ‘if’s’ that define my life,

 

With every ‘if’ we keep inside,

With every star that laughs from the sky,

We know that we lie.

Behind every fiction is an author.

Behind every wish is a truth.

 

I wasn’t born in a story.

 

I wasn’t born to win my race.

No matter how enticing the fiction seems,

We live in this world,

And our choices don’t change reality.

 

Perhaps in another time, I’d shine like a star.

 

Perhaps in another time, I’d live a dream.

In another world, I would go far.

In another world, I wouldn’t see my seams.

 

But this is the world I have;

 

This is the life I live.

Like a lone tree on a plain,

I am out of place.

A tree belongs in a forest, not a field.

 

In another world, I wouldn’t be stuck.

 

In another world, I would learn to fly.

In another world, you would watch me soar.

 

What a good liar am I.

 

And this one is a response to a prompt one of my friends gave me!

  Reveal hidden contents

“Surprise! I’m back from the dead. Excited?” I lifted my head slightly at the sound of Talin’s voice. It had worked. Our plan had worked…so far. It could still go wrong. If Talin realized I was here, saw my condition, he’d get emotional. He’d lose control. So I slid back beneath the rubble as much as I could, though it was nearly impossible to move with so many stones on top of me. I should have known better than to try to fight a wizard on my own.

 No matter. It was too late now. As far as Talin knew, I was safe. When he went below after the fight to find me…I held in a cough as I felt something dripping into my eye. How strange. I wasn’t that sweaty, was I? Red blocked my vision for a moment as blood dripped onto the ground below. Oh yes. I was wounded. 

“How?” Eirne’s raspy voice finally responded. I couldn’t see either of them, but I could picture how Eirne’s face must look easily, and I chuckled at the thought. The chuckle turned into a cough. Oops. I probably had several broken ribs. For some reason, this struck me as funny. Had I hit my head? That wasn’t good. I blinked rapidly, trying to think. Eirne was talking…what was he saying? Straining my focus, I could barely understand him. 

“It doesn’t matter how you’re alive.” Eirne finally said. “You’re going to fail.”

“Am I?” Talin taunted. “You didn’t think I’d be back. You have no idea what we’re doing, no idea how doomed you are.”

“We?” Eirne asked, so innocently that I knew everything was about to go wrong. 

Talin chuckled, incredulous. Inwardly, I cursed his foolishness. He’d always been so dense. But there was nothing I could do, trapped as I was. “You mean you really haven’t figured it out? Ace is destroying your army as we speak.” I groaned softly. No! Don’t mention me…but the damage had been done.

“Your lover?” Einre roared with laughter, a sound that had once been familiar. “She’s over there. If she’s still alive, that is.” I imagined him gesturing at the wreckage, pictured Talin running, and a moment later, footsteps pounded the dust next to my head. 

“Ace…” Talin whispered, his voice as gentle as I’d ever heard it. His hand started to glow, and I knew what he was going to do.

“No,” I snapped. “You will not save me with the power you should be using to kill him.” Maybe I would have been more convincing if I hadn’t started coughing up blood at the end. I ignored the pain, looking into Talin’s eyes pleadingly.

“Please,” he whispered. “I can’t…I can’t do this without you, Ace. Let me heal you. It’s my fault you can’t heal yourself. It’s my fault.” He was crying. I freed one of my arms and lifted it to his face, wiping away the tears.

“Don’t cry, love. You know as well as I do why I sacrificed my power,” I choked, then caught my breath desperately. “I’m not afraid of death. I never have been. This is the only way for you—for us—to win.”

“I don’t care,” Talin said, fresh tears flowing. “Don’t you understand? If you’re gone, none of it matters. I don’t care about beating him. I don’t care if he destroys the world, in the end. As long as I have you, we win. Please, Ace. Don’t leave me.

I felt my own tears start then, but they didn’t change the truth. “Oh, Tal. I love you more than life itself. But if he destroys the world, how many more will suffer?” My eyes hardened. “If you throw away this shot, how many more hearts will you be knowingly tearing apart?”

He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly angry. “Can’t you stop being so selfless, just once? You always care so much about the rest of the world. The world has never helped us, Ace, not once. And yet you’re so determined to save them. We can find another way. Just let me save you, and I will do anything you ask. Anything.” One of his tears fell, splatting on my forehead. I barely felt it. I was running out of time.

“No.”

He sat back, trembling. “What makes you think I can do this?” He finally asked. “How do you know I won’t just fall apart the second you’re gone?”

I smiled faintly. “I know you, Tal. You are a hero, down to your core. I have seen your highs and lows, but through it all, you never stop fighting.” I coughed weakly. “It will hurt, Tal. It won’t ever stop hurting. But if you remember anything of me, remember this: I have loved you through it all. I loved you when you were a monster. I love you as a hero. Nothing you can do will touch my love for you. And whether it is in moments or decades, when we meet again…” I was gasping for breath now, but I had to finish. “When we meet again, we will be the champions. No matter what.”

There were so many words I still needed to say, but I was out of time. I felt my arm go limp, and it dropped from Talin’s face. He leaned over me, holding me close, crying. But only for a moment. Then he let out a roar, a horrid sound of rage and pain and raw emotion. That sound promised death. He whirled towards Einre. Inside my broken body, I smiled. He’d come through. Just like he always did.

And then the world faded into blackness, and I knew no more.

That second one got a lot sadder than I originally intended, but I'm happy with how it turned out. Enjoy!!

DUUUUUUUDEEEE THESE ARE SOO GOOD

The slam poem hit me right in the heart, and the prompt response... AHHHHH SOO GOOOD!

*SLAMS REP ONTO THE TABLE* TAKE IT ALL!!

[Edema Rue she/her]

8 hours ago, Telrao said:

DUUUUUUUDEEEE THESE ARE SOO GOOD

The slam poem hit me right in the heart, and the prompt response... AHHHHH SOO GOOOD!

*SLAMS REP ONTO THE TABLE* TAKE IT ALL!!

Thank you so much Telrao!!

[Edema Rue she/her]

Oki I have a random little thing I wrote that’s all dialogue, it’s kinda weird but here ya go!

Spoiler

“What are you reading?”

“Myths.”

“Like…Greek myths?”

“Yes, and some others. It’s funny how naive they were.”

“That’s ridiculous. The greatest warriors, the most powerful nations in their day…and you call them naive?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Just look at what they believed. They were all so determined to find a way that they could be saved without trying.”

“Without…without trying?! You must think I’m a fool.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

“Why not, you little…why not?”

“I’m trying to read.”

“Will you elaborate anyway? Please, enlighten me with your endless wisdom.”

“Fine. Look at the vikings, for example. They believed you only had to die a hero, and then you would be rescued and sent to paradise; Valhalla, where you could feast and be rewarded until one final fight.”

“Dying a hero isn’t exactly an easy task, you know.”

“It’s not. But living like one is harder.”

“I…what?”

“Living like a hero is harder than dying like one.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Nevermind, then. Let’s look at something a little simpler. Their beliefs are full of logical fallacies.”

“Such as?”

“Well, how do they define a hero? If you were to die in a duel to defend your family, are you a hero?”

“Of course.”

“And the person you were dueling. If they were trying to protect their family, or their country, or their anything…say that you lived and they died. Are they a hero?”

“I…I don’t know. Yes?”

“Say that you were fighting a war, and killed a man to save your friend. Say that man had a son. Say that he grows up and kills you to avenge his father. Who’s the hero?”

“Both of us? Neither? I don’t know! Why does it matter?”

“Because this is the base of why their beliefs are so wrong. If you’re a hero in your moment of death, but a traitorous coward your whole life, do you still go to Valhalla? If you’re a hero your whole life, if you always do what is right, if you vanquish a thousand foes, but then die of a disease, you wouldn’t go to Valhalla. Is that really the most efficient way for a supposedly all powerful god to choose his soldiers? And if this god is so powerful, why does he need mortals anyway?”

“I don’t know why I bother to talk to you. You’re speaking in circles.”

“Spheres, actually, and they only seem that way to you because you don’t understand half of what I’m trying to say.”

“You speak words, and yet you say nothing at all.”

“You’re learning.”

“Am I?”

“No.”

“You make me tired, Master.”

“Good. Go rest, and I will finish my book.”

“All right. But…Master?”

“Yes?”

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

 

[Edema Rue she/her]

Welp I’m double posting but I worked out today after like 3 weeks not and this poem originated as a result of me almost dying 

Lies:

Spoiler

21 days.

It takes 21 days.

21 days,

and any strength you had is gone.

21 days,

and that trap bar may as well be a mountain

21 days, 

and it’s like the last 6 months never happened.

21 days, 

and suddenly all your work is for naught. 

21 days, 

and what little ground you’ve gained is gone.

21 days,

And the calluses agave disappeared;

21 days,

and you can’t say no any longer.

 

You can’t 

rest for even a second.

You can’t

stop or it’s like you never started.

You can’t 

imagine a life where you don’t hurt.

You can’t.

You can’t.

You can’t.

Can’t.

Can’t.

Can’t.

 

Won’t.

 

If you try,

You will fail.

If you try,

You are naive.

If you try,

You’re only wasting time.

If you try,

Make sure I don’t see.

If you try, 

You’ll only embarrass yourself.

 

Shut up,

World.

Shut up,

Demons.

Shut up,

Brain.

Shut up,

Heart.

Shut up.

Shut up.

Shut up!

 

Ache,

No longer.

Scream,

No more.

Stay

Out of my head.

Out of my heart.

Out of my life.

 

Your lies

Cannot hurt me

Your knives

Cannot cut me

Your words

Will not stop me

Your truths

Won’t always be true.

 

These lies

Won’t always be lies.

 

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

On 4/21/2023 at 8:48 PM, Edema Ruh said:

Welp I’m double posting but I worked out today after like 3 weeks not and this poem originated as a result of me almost dying 

Lies:

  Reveal hidden contents

21 days.

It takes 21 days.

21 days,

and any strength you had is gone.

21 days,

and that trap bar may as well be a mountain

21 days, 

and it’s like the last 6 months never happened.

21 days, 

and suddenly all your work is for naught. 

21 days, 

and what little ground you’ve gained is gone.

21 days,

And the calluses agave disappeared;

21 days,

and you can’t say no any longer.

 

You can’t 

rest for even a second.

You can’t

stop or it’s like you never started.

You can’t 

imagine a life where you don’t hurt.

You can’t.

You can’t.

You can’t.

Can’t.

Can’t.

Can’t.

 

Won’t.

 

If you try,

You will fail.

If you try,

You are naive.

If you try,

You’re only wasting time.

If you try,

Make sure I don’t see.

If you try, 

You’ll only embarrass yourself.

 

Shut up,

World.

Shut up,

Demons.

Shut up,

Brain.

Shut up,

Heart.

Shut up.

Shut up.

Shut up!

 

Ache,

No longer.

Scream,

No more.

Stay

Out of my head.

Out of my heart.

Out of my life.

 

Your lies

Cannot hurt me

Your knives

Cannot cut me

Your words

Will not stop me

Your truths

Won’t always be true.

 

These lies

Won’t always be lies.

 

DON'T DIE! IT'S BAD FOR YOUR HEALTH!

I really like the poem. Seems a lot of people are writing poems about the lies they try to sell themselves.

[Edema Rue she/her]

25 minutes ago, The Wandering Wizard said:

DON'T DIE! IT'S BAD FOR YOUR HEALTH!

I really like the poem. Seems a lot of people are writing poems about the lies they try to sell themselves.

Whoops, I didn't notice. I'll try to avoid dying in the future 

Yeah. Honestly, the way I write like...I had no idea what this poem was going to be when I started. I didn't know how long it would be, I didn't know if it would be hopeful or hopeless...that's just how I write, I guess? I never plan anything  I just write and then I can feel when I'm done. 

Thank you

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

2 minutes ago, Edema Ruh said:

Whoops, I didn't notice. I'll try to avoid dying in the future 

Yeah. Honestly, the way I write like...I had no idea what this poem was going to be when I started. I didn't know how long it would be, I didn't know if it would be hopeful or hopeless...that's just how I write, I guess? I never plan anything  I just write and then I can feel when I'm done. 

Thank you

That's how I write my poems too

[Edema Rue she/her]

Oh good that means I'm doing it right 

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

The ways to write are as varied as the sands in the sea.

[Edema Rue she/her]

Spoiler

He stood atop a cliff. It wasn’t a frightening cliff; it couldn’t have hurt him if it wanted to, though of course it didn’t. He looked over the edge. He wasn’t considering the bottom. He wasn’t thinking of how far the fall was. In part, he was imagining what it would be like to fly, to soar like the mythological beasts that had given him his name. In part, he was thinking of how much power it had taken to create such an incredible place. Mostly, though, Griffin was simply admiring the view. 

And what a view! It was more than worthy of his admiration. Below the cliff was a city, one of the largest in the world. Down below, the sounds of carriages, street vendors, musicians, and a number of other things were nearly deafening. But from so far above the city, there was only silence. From this far up, in fact, Griffin couldn’t even see the individual buildings or people; to him, the city was more like a child’s carefully arranged pile of blocks than something one could truly walk around in. Beyond the city was ocean as far as the eye could see.

Griffin let out a long breath, feeling a breeze tug his hair, feeling the setting sun on his face, feeling the dirt below his feet, feeling…everything. A strong gust of wind came suddenly, and with it the scent of salt, and tall grass, and flowers, and…something else. Griffin turned, seeing a twisted tree covered with thousands of pale pink blossoms. He smiled, catching a petal that was floating lazily towards the ground. He looked at it for a moment, then let it fall.

Turning back to the city, he said, “I know it’s you, Krys.” There was quiet for a moment, and then the tree morphed into a young woman. Despite her ability to change form, his sister had remained much the same over the centuries. Her long silver hair was twisted into an elegant braid, yet somehow still flowed free. Her eyelids glimmered faintly purple, the same color as her lips. She wore a close-fitting sleeveless black top, easy to fight in and clearly displaying her thickly muscled arms. But Krys had always loved looking beautiful, loved the way mortals looked at her, and so below that she wore a long skirt, layered with a thousand shades of purple. Tall black boots and a thin cloak completed the outfit.

And then, of course, there were the little things she did, the ones you’d never notice without observing her for centuries; the way her ears were slightly pointed, the way her hair and cloak always billowed behind her, whether it was windy or not; the way her canines glistened sharply, the way her jewelry shifted and changed, so that you could never quite describe it.

Simply put, she was his sister.

“Hey, Grif,” Krystal said. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“I know.” Griffin said quietly.

“You could’ve made it easier to find you. I was the only one who thought to look here.” 

Griffin chuckled softly. “I’m not sure why. This is home, Krys.”

“Always has been.”

“Always will be.”

They smiled, sharing a moment of peace that only family can understand. “I’ve missed you, brother,” Krystal said finally. Her lower lip trembled, barely noticeable to anyone else. But to Griffin, she may as well have screamed. 

“Hey,” he said gently, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m here now.” They stayed like that for a long time, until finally something in Griffin’s mind snapped. He gasped. “None of this is real, is it?” He whispered. “You’re dead.”

“Yes.” Krystal said quietly.

“I don’t understand. Am I…what’s going on?”

“You aren’t dead. But you are…stuck.”

Griffin nodded. That sounded right. “One second. Let’s…let’s not have this conversation here.” He closed his eyes, and a moment later they were in a small room. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“You’ve gotten better,” Krystal noted. 

“I’ve had a while to practice.”

“We need to talk about this, brother. You can’t hide in this dream forever.”

“I…” Griffin dipped his head. “How long has it been?”

“Years.”

“What?!”

“The others are getting worried, Grif. And…outside of your mind, the world is ending.”

“How is this possible? Krys, no one can talk to the dead.”

Krystal smiled smugly. “We do a lot of things that no one else can do. I found a way through, found a way back to the mindscape, even if I can’t get back to the real world. But that doesn’t matter. What’s important is that you need to get out of here.”

“And what if I can’t?” Griffin snapped. “What if I’m not ready to go back?”

“You’ll never be ready, Grif.”

He knew it was true. He knew it. And yet…it didn’t change how he felt. “I don’t want to save the world. Let it burn.”

“Grif…”

“No. I’m sorry, Krys, but I’ve never been like the rest of you. I love you, but without you, with the others looking at me the way they do…there’s no more reason to keep fighting. The world’s been trying to destroy itself for as long as we’ve been alive.

“I’m done trying to save it.”