Latest Posts by mark-of-chrysus - Page 4
#2
"Hey, stop. I'm not proud of it." Zack was definitely proud of it.
He glanced back at the new transfer hoping to see him cowering and had he been drinking anything he would have done a spit-take right then and there.
Oblivious to the looks he was getting, Daniel, continued flirting with the increasingly reddening blonde. His pickup lines were downright atrocious, but Jay didn't seem to mind it at all.
"Are you French? Because Eiffel for you."
Zack began wondering if this was a fever dream but a quick look at his gobsmacked goon confirmed they were seeing this too.
"Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got FINE written all over you."
Zoe quietly despaired in a corner with large crocodile tears running down her face.
"I must be in a museum, because you truly are a work of art."
Zack sneakily pulled out a notebook and began furiously scribbling down notes.
"Are you a time traveler? Cause I see you in my future!"
Daniel was not smirking mischievously at that one, thank you very much.
"Can I follow you where you’re going right now? Because my parents always told me to follow my dreams."
"Does he even have a dad?" someone whispered in the background, genuinely curious.
As expected, there was no reply.
"Do you like Star Wars? Because Yoda only one for me!"
Mira could no longer keep a straight face and face-planted into her desk letting out something that sounded like a mix between a moan of despair and a muffled snort. It came out like the sound of a wounded pterodactyl.
The teacher walked in unnoticed.
"My love for you is like diarrhea, I just can't hold it in."
The teacher promptly walked out and never returned.
#1
Danny didn't expect a lot of weirdness when he started this loop. He was sorely mistaken.
The realization came to him when he realized he had retained the previous loop's features and still looked like a 25-year-old gangster, tattoos and all. Not to mention he was staring down at the tiny version of one Johan Seong.
Taking a deep breath of his cigarette he allowed himself another glance downwards, which he immediately regretted.
"Could you give me your shoes?' Johan looked up at him with his big brown eyes shining with a sort of innocence Daniel had never seen on the boy before.
He exhaled the smoke upwards, as far away from the little one's face as possible, then crouched down and extinguished his cigarette on the pavement while his free hand reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a wad of cash that had seemingly traversed back with him and handed it to the wide-eyed boy with the gentlest smile he could manage.
"Take care of yourself" He ruffled little Johan's hair before getting back up and continuing down the sidewalk.
Without hurrying he made his way to a hotpot restaurant, keenly aware of his little shadow. He stopped right in front of it and turned around startling the boy so badly that he instinctively cowered.
"Have you had anything to eat yet?" The man asked, softening his expression so as not to frighten the boy more than he already had.
Johan shook his head and Daniel gestured for him to go in. He marveled at the boy's innocence as his eyes grew larger and he sprinted into the hotpot shop with an expression of childish glee that tugged at the older's heartstrings. This boy had not yet lost the spark in his eyes, though judging by his appearance he had already suffered through the whole cult ordeal.
Daniel chuckled at his enthusiasm and allowed Johan to choose what to order while they sat down next to each other.
"Hey mister, you're really nice!" The boy exclaimed, biting into a piece of meat. "You didn't even kick me when I asked for your shoes and gave me money and everything!"
Danny hummed back while swallowing his own food before wiping a trail of broth off the boy's chin. Johan watched him with keen eyes but didn't lean back or in. It was like the boy was trying to decide whether to be suspicious or revel in this tiny moment of affection that made him feel all fuzzy and warm inside. His mommy used to make him feel like that a long time ago when he was really little but hadn't done so since. Adults only play nice when they want something from you, he reminded himself when the tall dark-haired man retracted his hand and placed the crumbled napkin back on the table before returning to his meal. Something about him made Johan feel safe, something he hadn't felt since they had taken his mommy away, and made him want to cling to him. That's why he had followed him in the first place.
Seeing the boy lost in thought Daniel suppressed a tiny smirk and gently flickered his forehead, only hard enough to wake him from his reverie. He was rewarded with a pout that almost made him coo, but the boy's attention quickly went back to his remaining meal which he once more began to swallow feverishly.
"Slow down." The man chided while handing him a glass of water when Johan accidentally choked.
His actions seemed to have taken a more paternal turn ever since his eyes had landed on the tiny boy, but he didn't really care at the moment. Every bone in his imposing body screamed to take the boy home, wrap him in a blanket and protect him from this cruel world but he suppressed such thoughts. Although his morals had long since been distorted he had yet to completely lose his sense of boundaries. Kidnapping a child wouldn't do, not when he himself seemed to always get into trouble somehow. He didn't even have a place to stay at the moment, so that plan went out the window before it even began.
"Hey, mister", a tiny, high-pitched voice put a stop to his spiraling thought and his tired black eyes clashed with bright brown innocent ones, "what's your name?"
Daniel almost got whiplash with how suddenly his other thoughts paused but didn't show any outward signs of his newfound weakness. The child was making him soft.
"Daniel", he wiped his mouth with a napkin, "and you?"
"I'm Johan!"
His enthusiasm seemed to be infectious because he soon found himself smiling and humming while following along with the small brunette as he chatted about anything and everything. Yep, the child was definitely making him soft. And wasn't that a weirdly welcome surprise?
----------------
In the following days, the two of them kept bumping into each other, and each time they did they ended up back at the same hotpot restaurant.
Daniel had gotten a job at a nearby supermarket that reminded him of his old convenience store, with the added bonus that it paid better and no one dared to look down on him (not that most even could anyway). That way he had the funds to keep taking little Johan to eat at least once a week, although he had yet to find a place for himself. That particular thing wasn't really a problem, since he had long since learned the best sleeping spots in the city during some of his past loops and no one dared to attack him while he slept, out of fear.
In the last loop, Daniel had gotten really jacked up and covered most of his upper body in tattoos symbolizing various things, from his friends to events from other loops and so forth. Unless you really paid attention you probably couldn't tell what they meant, since the man had paid special attention to hiding such details in the very images representing them.
That evening, as he was making his way back from his job Daniel stumbled over a sight that made his blood boil. On the ground was a brunette little lump, covered in blood and bruises, with shards of broken glass and pieces of broken bottles surrounding it. Burying his anger deep in his chest the man stumbled to the child's side, crouching down to take a better look at the damage. No one other than him was around, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.
With his foot, he nudged away most of the glass before kneeling over the unmoving Johan. He breathed a sigh of relief after finding a pulse, took off his ratty black trench coat, and scooped the bundle up into it. Careful not to hold him too tight and risk making his injuries worse Daniel made his way quickly to one of his nearby hideouts in an old abandoned building. Johan stirred and let out a weak whimper when he bangs climbing the crumbling stairs.
"It's okay, just hang on for a little longer. You'll be okay." He hushed the child suppressing the urge to cuddle him until he felt better no matter how much his chest ached at the notion of having to prolong his pain.
"Just a little longer" He promised the half-conscious boy, finally reaching the floor he had claimed as his own.
Without letting go of Johan he reached underneath an old, rotten dresser and pulled out a backpack that was obviously newer than anything else in this room, though, upon a closer inspection, one could see that it was missing a strap and looked torn in places. Daniel didn't once stop whispering reassurances and praise for how well he was doing as he removed the shard from his skin and bandaged the cuts. While relieved that the boy didn't seem to have any broken bones, he still gritted his teeth while applying cream to the patches of sickening blue and yellow covering his skin and wrapping his wounds.
Once he was finished dressing his wounds he wrapped the boy in one of his jackets and placed him on a relatively clean mattress he had managed to procure from a lovely lady at a yard sale, allowing himself a moment to marvel at how much younger and smaller he looked while sleeping. That night he didn't sleep, instead guarding Johan and making plans on returning the favor tenfold to those who had dared to lay their filthy hands on his kid.
When the first rays of sunlight slipped through the cracked window Johan began to stir. His whole body hurt, but not as much as it had when those guys beat him up. He was on something soft and he cuddled into the warmth before his mind caught up with his awake body. Warmth? He lurched forward in a panic before a pair of big warm hands gently pushed his back.
"Hey, hey, it's okay, you're safe."
He didn't recognize the voice at first but his brain automatically associated it with safety so he relaxed and allowed himself to be pushed back into what he now realized was a jacket almost three times his size in which he had been wrapped in. The pain in his back flared, but he pushed it away in favor of analyzing the room.
It didn't look like anything special. The walls were cracked and the paint had fallen off in some places. He was laying on a mattress that looked like a dog had bitten off one of its corners. Opposite him was an old wooden table with two plastic chairs that didn't belong to the same set on either side of it and next to it was a dresser that looked like it had come straight out of a haunted victorian mansion.
Finally, Johan's eyes landed on the figure at the foot of his bed and a shy smile bloomed on his battered face. Daniel returned it even wider while leaning towards him and placing a calloused palm on his forehead. The action made him fidget, but he soon calmed down when the man took his hand back, seemingly satisfied.
"Where does it hurt?"
The boy's first reaction was to deny that there was anything wrong with him but the look in Danny's eyes made him think otherwise. Timidly he pointed at the parts where he could still feel the pain, watching with bated breath as the man's expression seemed to grow darker and darker.
Finally, he hummed in the way Johan had learned to distinguish as him having gotten what he wanted and let out a deep breath. Although his hand itched for a cigarette, he remained steadfast in his refusal to smoke anywhere near the boy these days. Instead, he forced on a blank expression and began rummaging through the backpack. He pulled out a bottle of water and a store-bought sandwich and handed them to the child after checking the expiration date.
He made sure that the copycat didn't choke while wolfing down the slightly stale sandwich and reflexively wiped the crumbs off his cheeks after he had finished, lamenting at how sunken they were. He resolved to hound the boy to go with him to the hotpot store more often, if only to make sure he ate enough.
"Why?"
"Mhm?"
"Why-Why did you take me to your place? Why did you take care of me and feed me? You haven't asked for anything back? I-I don't have anything to give you! I can't-"
The boy's broken tirade was cut off by a pair of scarred but warm hands circling around his trembling frame and bringing him into someone's chest. The dam broke, and tears began flowing down his pale cheeks like waterfalls. He didn't even know why he was crying, but the building ache in his chest seemed to have finally bubbled to the surface and overwhelmed him. It wasn't fair! Why did this stranger he had met not even a month ago care for him more than his mommy did? Why? Why couldn't he be a normal kid? Why couldn't he go to school, and make friends, and play with toys?
Daniel listened to the little one wrapped in his arms choke on his own sobs and hiccups while mumbling unintelligibly and his heart shattered. The unfairness of it all hit him straight on and at that moment he found that he didn't care if his shirt was wet with tears and snot and bits of saliva, nor did he care that his work would start in half an hour. He could afford to lose his job (even if it would be a rather nasty blow to his income) if it meant that the little boy who was drifting off to sleep on his chest, having already tired himself out crying, wouldn't be alone when he woke up.
No, he thought clutching Johan closer to himself, he wouldn't let him be alone again. He wouldn't abandon him and he would do his darned best so that he would get a normal childhood.
Part 2
When a man's pride is wounded the outcome is usually unfortunate for the other party.
Perhaps he had been too brazen that morning, or his nonchalance had affected Zack more than he realized because the boy came into the convenience store seething. When his eyes landed on the small figure behind the counter his face twisted into a smirk that would have sent past Daniel probably running for the hills.
Currently, however, Danny had grown to have more faith in his smaller body, even if all the work he had put into losing weight had been reversed, his mind still had all the moves he had learned over the years and under Gun's mentorship deeply ingrained. It was only a matter of his body getting used to the motions all over again, a task which he would have found quite daunting if not for both of his bodies' inhumane ability to perform moves by copying them down to their finest details and unleashing them at his behest.
All that said, it didn't change the flaring temper of the boxer currently leaning over the counter and staring down at him. The cashier looked up at him unimpressed and once again requested identification. This seemed to spark something because the next thing he knew Zack's face turned stormy and a fist came heading for his bulging belly. Daniel managed to keep his expression flat as he caught the incoming blow, though deep inside he snorted at Zack's gobsmacked expression.
"What the heck!"
"That pig actually caught his punch!"
"Zack must be getting sloppy!"
The last comment seemed to irk him indescribably and he turned his ire on his goons, dragging the mercilessly out of the store. Daniel waited until the banging and strangled yelps quieted down until he allowed himself a muffled giggle. In a good mood, he called his mom.
"Oh, who is this? My son~"
His smile grew larger and more genuine at the sound of his mother's voice, though he cringed when he recalled that around this time she would probably be busy picking boxes to make money for him.
"Hey mom, how are you?" His voice came out warmly, and one could easily guess that he was smiling.
"I'm well, how about you? Are you eating enough? How's your new place? Did you make any new friends?"
The boy resolved to try and repair all those years he had been unfilial to his mother and, in a light tone, began chatting with her about his new school and friends, concealing the truth about his other body. His mother was happy and her worries were put at ease so for now, they wished each other good night and hung up.
After the conversation, the pudgy boy returned to the store. As he was making his way behind the counter he caught sight of the lottery tickets near checkout and a thought struck him. Gaining money would be so much easier now that he knew the future (at least, to some extent).
If being around figures like Gun and Goo for so long had thought him anything outside of combat was that money made the world spin. With enough cash, you could get out of some really tough situations and cover up almost anything. Money could also be sent to his mother to ease her burdens, and it could become a factor that would greatly influence his actions in the future.
With his mind made up, Daniel pulled out his phone and went on numerous sites holding lotteries and such other games. He was only familiar with those whose prizes would appear on television during his night shift, but the amount was not negligible. Soon, he told himself, sneaking another glance at the lottery tickets and stifling an uncharacteristically sharp smirk. Soon, this would all be worth it.
He didn't get any more customers that night, so he used most of it to exercise, sorely missing the inches he had gained after losing weight and under the black-eyed maniac's tutelage. While this body worked well for him last time the boy refused to leave it all up to the - frankly ridiculous - luck that had saved him all those times in his past life. He would need agility to fight the stalker and the psycho obsessed with Zoe and other such unsavory characters he had had the misfortune of being met with last time. And that agility, and not to mention speed, would only come with a lighter body that could move properly without all the fat in the way.
The idea was practical, though he still wondered, even when he woke up the next morning in his tall slender body, how this decision would affect his interactions in the future. He looked forward to meeting Vasco, though it would probably be a shock to see his back to his naive self and so quick to judge someone based on appearance. It was already proving to be difficult not to equate these versions of his friend to those he knew they would become and sometimes he despaired at their current attitudes.
This huge relapse sometimes left him dazed. More so than his pride, it wounded his soft, bleeding heart to see all of their progress lost to the wind with them none the wiser.
Fanfiction Authors: HEADS UP
(Non-authors, please RB to signal boost to your author friends!)
An astute reader informed me this morning that one of my fics (Children of the Future Age) had been pirated and was being sold as a novel on Amazon:
(And they weren't even creative with their cover design. If you're going to pirate something that I spent a full year of my life writing, at least give me a pretty screenshot to brag about later. Seriously.)
I promptly filed a DMCA complaint to have it removed, but I checked out the company that put it up -- Plush Books -- and it looks like A LOT of their books are pirated fic. They are by no means the only ones doing this, either -- the fact that """publishers""" can download stories from AO3 in ebook format and then reupload them to Amazon in just a few clicks makes fic piracy a common problem. There are a whole host of reasons why letting this continue is bad -- including actual legal risk to fanfiction archives -- but basically:
IF YOU ARE A FANFIC AUTHOR WITH LONG AND/OR POPULAR WORKS, PLEASE CHECK AMAZON TO SEE IF YOUR STORIES HAVE BEEN PIRATED.
You can search for your fics by title, or by text from the description (which is often just copied wholesale from AO3 as well). If you find that someone has stolen your work and is selling it as their own, you can lodge a DMCA complaint (Amazon.com/USA site; other countries have different systems). If you haven't done this before, it's easy! Here's a tutorial:
HOW TO FILE A COPYRIGHT COMPLAINT FOR STOLEN WORK ON AMAZON.COM:
First, go to this form. You'll need to be signed into your Amazon account.
Select the radio buttons/dropdown options (shown below) to indicate that you are the legal Rights Owner, you have a copyright concern, and it is about a pirated product.
Enter the name of your story in the Name of Brand field.
In the Link to the Copyrighted Work box, enter a link to the story on AO3 or whatever site your work is posted on.
In the Additional Information box, explain that you are the author of the work and it is being sold without your permission. That's all you really need. If you want, you can include additional information that might be helpful in establishing the validity of your claim, but you don't have to go into great detail. You can simply write something like this:
I am the author of this work, which is being sold by [publisher] without my permission. I originally published this story in [date/year] on [name of site], and have provided a link to the original above. On request, I can provide documentation proving that I am the owner of the account that originally posted this story.
In the ASIN/ISBN-10 field, copy and paste the ID number from the pirated copy's URL. You'll find this ten-digit number in the Amazon URL after the word "product," as in the screenshot below. (If the URL extends beyond this number, you can ignore everything from the question mark on.) Once this number has been added, Amazon will pull the product information automatically and add it to the complaint form, so you can check the listing title and make sure it's correct.
Finally, add your contact information to the relevant fields, check the "I have read and accept the statements" box, and then click Submit. You should receive an email confirmation that Amazon has received the form.
Please share this information with your writer friends, keep an eye out for/report pirated works, and help us keep fanfiction free and legally protected!
NOTE: All of the above also applies to Amazon products featuring stolen artwork, etc., so fan artists should check too!
My cousin asked me what people without a limb were called because she was having a lapsus and instead of amputee I told her prostitutes. We both haven't stopped laughing and I'm stating to think she's suffocating cause she has been making kettle sounds for the past two or so minutes.
"Home..." the word itself left a bitter taste on the back of his tongue, though perhaps that should be attributed to the amount of dirt and soot that had slipped past his cracked lips in those moments of weakness when he had relapsed to his primal instinct and wept akin to a child who had just killed his first hunt.
Polite but feral was the best way to characterize Daniel Park on most days. Today, however, he was just plain flabbergasted. I mean, It's not every day that you wake up back on the day it all started and get to look at yourself in the mirror without being able to recognize your own body. Either of them, actually.
His original body lay on the floor, a soft lump of fat and regrets, while the one he was currently using bore none of the marks that had come from all the fights he had survived. As if the memories written in thin silvery lines across his skin had been washed away by an unforgiving cold wave.
The sink shattered under his tense fingertips but he did not let go of it. Instead, his burning gaze remained fixed onto the mirror as if willing it to admit it was wrong and revert to the reality it had seemingly abandoned in favor of this bitter-sweet illusion. To his dismay, it refused to relinquish the fake image no matter how much he waited. Instead, it was he who first lowered his head onto the cracked remains of his marble sink, stifling a sob as the reality of the matter came crashing down on him like an avalanche.
Denial was over, it came time for anger. But even then, he was much too tired to do anything, nor did he have anything to destroy in sight. At least, nothing he would not regret destroying later. Thus, he settled on clawing at the skin on his back until blood trickled from his nails and down to his elbows. As the blood dripped onto the cold floor below he moved his hands, dragging strips of skin along the entirety of his exposed back. When the pain no longer satisfied him he let his arms fall limply and sunk to his knees, banging his head onto the floor with a muffled thud that left him wondering if anyone was wondering about the noise. His neighbors had been awfully eager to stay out of his way, while expressing their displeasure by loudly banging on the walls in his past- life?
"Take me back."He pleaded into the darkness of his room. "I shouldn't be here."
The moon only stared down at him, cold and unresponsive.
"Please, please"He tried again, though it came out more as a gasp, his chest heavy with sobs he tried to keep at bay.
Failure had never tasted so bitter as when Daniel felt the tin strims of water going down his cheeks. Like a mockery, no matter how much he rubbed at his eyes, the tears never stopped, filling his mouth with the tiny drops of salty water that threatened to drown him. He gasped, clutching his chest as he cried like he hadn't since he was a babe, with tears and hiccups and snot that left him feeling like even more of a pathetic mess than before.
He couldn't tell you how long he laid on the floor, curled with his hands clutching his wildly beating heart and weeping for what was but what could never be again. Sure, he could try to repeat his past experience, sticking as close to the original actions as possible, but it wouldn't be the same. He wasn't the same. Something was fundamentally different about him. Something was broken that last time had been whole. His faith.
Finally, he rose his body and stumbled through washing his face, not quite there. For a second time that night, he rose his face and looked, really looked, at himself in the mirror. He traced unseen scars across his face, trying to commit to memory where each silvery mark and red splotch had been. His body felt so, so awfully wrong. So horribly alien yet familiar to him. Not how it had felt the first time, but similar in a way he couldn't express.
The boy displaced in time could not help but feel as if he had stolen something. Maybe a chance, or a life? It didn't matter.
Acceptance.
He would find his way again, he wasn't lost, merely trying to find his footing again on a path he had taken once already. He could do this.
But not today.
He flopped onto his ratty mattress and cried his heart out until his breathing turned to wheezing and his body felt like turning to mush. Then, he closed his eyes and opened them again, seeing the world from a different angle.
----------
In his last life (it still felt wrong to use the word, but he couldn't find a better way to put it) he had abused his ability to use another body. A body that was attractive and brought his positive attention wherever he went was addictive to him, who had only been even viewed with disgust and contempt by others. He would still use it, of course, but this time he would focus more on the body he had been gifted from mother nature and all of its qualities. Beginning with sewing a few new clothes for his bigger body.
Daniel made quick work of a couple outfits that he felt would suit his bigger body better than his smaller one. His chubby fingers moved swiftly with the needle, although his only source of light was the full moon that was slowly descending out of view and thus, making him have to change his angle several times so as to still keep it in view.
When the sun finally rose off the jagged line of Seoul's horizon he had adopted a calm and collected attitude that he hoped could fool his classmates (no longer his friends) for the day and changed his body. The clothes fit him nicely and although it was still mostly his uniform, with a few pieces changed here and there, like the blue pants that he had swapped out for a pair of black jeans. Adjusting his hair one last time in the mirror he departed, taking the familiar route to school.
He ignored the stares, the whispers, and the ridiculous, over-the-top reactions of the people he passed by, already used to it from the last time. However, he did not miss the hidden eyes of a certain blonde once he entered the class and presented himself (much more casually and without stuttering this time). Nor did he miss the daggers Zack was shooting him for Mira's reaction to his introduction.
When Zoe came and flirted with him he just gave her a small smile while internally cringing. How had he not noticed how bad that line was the first time?
The day passed by in a blur, a few familiar faces here and there, but Daniel was much more focused on that evening and the events to follow. He didn't fall asleep though and thus saved Zoe the embarrassment of being yelled at, not that it changed much of how the girl saw him.
Jesus, my brain hurts!🤣 https://www.instagram.com/p/CcDrToyDZ31WMvFohClkAMHo5FvglDG_PvS6eQ0/?utm_medium=tumblr
After a terrible natural disaster most of the pyramids of the world have been destroyed. Scientists are shocked by this, but even more shocking is that, after archeologists investigate the sites they discover beneath the rubble multipe chambers. They are sealed with what appers to be molted iron, each adorned with a different symbol. One has a dragon, another a thunderbird, and a hydra, and so on. They decided to enter one of the chambers they deem the most safe from any type of natural factors that may damage it. The chamber that is chosen to be opened and investigated by a small group of archeologists bears the symbol of a single man with wings.
You are sitting at your desk one quiet evening finishing up some assignments when you hear a crack behind you, like someone just stepped on one of the creaky floorboards of your cozy little home. Only problem is, you live in an apartment with cement floors covered in fluffy carpets.
Wordlessly, you pull out an ancient blade with shining symbols all over it that seems to buzz happily as it is once again in your grasp.
The fate of Ashur, he who dared to slay his flesh
Somewhere in the world a goddess wept the loss of her son and cursed the world for taking him from her. The cold broken body of the boy, barely a teen was clutched to her chest, only an empty husk left.
"I always have to get my hand dirty because of you. This is your fault, and no one else's." the cold voice of Ashur sounded from behind. She heard the sound of metal touching leather, but didn't move, no longer caring that she was wide open to a man that had just unsheathed his blade, ready to cut her down as if she was merely a wilted flower. Boiling rage coursed through her veins tears forever flowing down her cheeks and onto the dirt below. And where they hit the ground small blue flowers would appear in the shape of tears. The people called them Grape Hyacinth, in honor of the goddess who's tears had been turned into flowers. She may have perished that day, but before her divine soul had been turned into ashes she placed one last curse on the god who had killed her son. Hyacinth cursed him to never be able to lay rest and to forever be hounded by those he called his own, so that he may never be capable of love for another ,the way she had loved him and their son.
No, I did not just spend over ten hours worldbuilding today! I have no idea what you mean and Campfire certainly does not have a feature that tells me so!
I need therapy and a cat...
Quotes from my WIP
“I am, despite popular belief, not in any way shape or form cute and fluffy. I pay taxes, I should be feared! “- Mort
Small Prompt
He spoke in a quiet breathy tone ,his words almost inaudible over the low buzzing of the crowds below: ”I’m going to come back and kill you ,even if I have to crawl back up from the pits of Hell!”
Two shots rang out into the night and a body plummeted onto the concrete streets below landing with a thud. A chorus of hysteric screams ensued.
small snippet from my WIP
Shards and Splinters | Weeping Embers
Dried leaves fluttered in the breeze, crunching amongst each other as if whispering secrets into the wind to be carried away. The streets lay abandoned, everyone still asleep tightly in their warm beds awaiting the dawn of yet another day like any other before. But today wasn’t going to be a usual day.
From the moment his eyelids opened, and he jolted out of bed breathing as if he had been chased around the whole world by an army of demons Archer Uberto could tell there was something different about today. The sun rose to the skies just like every other morning, drowning the world in light and warmth as it had done perhaps trillions of times before, yet still, the boy could not shake the feeling something was out of place. It wasn’t anything obvious, else he would have noticed by now, like how you’d know if someone had moved your socks from their rightful place, but not if a splinter was missing from your desk. The feeling, although persistent did nothing to deter him from entering back into his routine almost robotically, forgetting about the dream that had startled him awake, or of the pungent smell of creos in his home...
Archer paused repeating the thought that had just passed through his mind. Creos? What even were creos and why did he think of that? A puzzled expression flashed on his face before the shrill ringing of his phone broke his line of thought, pulling him back into reality harshly. His body moved on its own, traversing the neat and clean room all the way to the small bookshelf adorning the whole left wall of his room before turning off that blasted noise, so he could once more rejoice in the softer morning sounds.
A crow stood atop one of the branches that neared his window, silently observing the teen as he exited the building dressed in an old baseball shirt and dark green jeans. It cawed out twice before taking off into the mushy clouds in search of its morning meal.
The sudden flapping of feathers alerted a nearby mouse and sent it scurrying back beneath the dumpster it had crawled from, the dark feathered bird now taking its place, atop the lid that rested on the wall behind it. From there it had a clear view of the lanky teen as he scurried into the backroom, before coming out with a green apron and getting behind the counter, just as the doors of the cafe opened to let in a stream of groggy and grumpy customers who couldn’t be bothered with pleasantries at such an early hour.
Archer sighed in relief upon hearing the bell hung above the door ring one final time that day, the last customer exiting the small Starbucks, coffee in hand. With a sudden sense of accomplishment, the boy grinned to himself, returning to the backroom. He greeted the rest of his colleagues politely and made a bit of small chat before changing from his uniform back into his soft dark jacket and exiting the building while humming a soft tune and swinging his arms in
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the air as if he were conducting a band of invisible musicians. There were barely any people on the streets at the time to judge him, and even those who saw him as mad he could not be bothered to pay attention to.
Upon crossing the street, he stopped in the middle, waiting for someone to come out of nowhere and run him over, but after a few minutes and not even the sight of a bike, he let out an exasperated sigh and continued on his journey back to his warm bed and fluffy pillow. Perhaps next time he would have more luck, Archer pouted jokingly while swatting a few stray strands of mahogany hair out of his eyes, only for the evening breeze to blow them right back into his face, blinding him momentarily. And it was all it took, just that one moment, he smelled that same scent his room had that morning, and that feeling came back over a thousand times stronger.
He whirled around clutching his sides, as a stinging pain bloomed right where his ribs caged his lungs and the wind picked up, raising clouds of fallen and dried leaves into the air and surrounding him. Archer clenched his eyes tightly, burying his head into his chest, now fully aware that that feeling of something being awfully wrong had not been only in his tired mind.
“There’s no way I’m going to die to a cloud of leaves today” he screeched, before choking on something and falling into a coughing fit, his eyes watering and his ears ringing.
Everybody knows me differently. Some know me as a monster, while others hail me as a saint. To many I am a saviour of sorts... others tell their children scary stories of me, as a cruel villain, at night.
Many know of me, yet few know me. They call out to me, although I have no name, and sing me praises, despite their voices never reaching my ears.
Beneath rays of moonlight they pray to me and bring me offerings of flesh and metal, but I am unable to aswer their pleas and soothe their pain. Upon finding out this truth they curse me out, only to later return to me either out of fear, regret or even more greed. They lay down their short mortal lives for me, out of desire for things I cannot gift them.
For I am their god, and I am powerless.