Reddit Writings: Old Gods and Dying Stars

Have a bunch of writings I'll be throwing on here soon! Also, the game I've been working on for 2 1/2 years is out! Check out Octodad here!

The old gods have abandoned us but demand worship. A new pantheon ascends, representing present day mortals. [prompt submitted by InvokingTheAncients]

Ashley lit a small candle before she rolled her makeup kit out. With each application of a powder, cream or glitter she thanked the Beautiful One. When she was done she blew the candle out and kissed the statue of the androgynous idol.

In a corporate meeting room a CEO places one thousand dollars in a dish. The CFO lights the stack on fire. Members of the board take out their cellphones and scream "BUY!" and "SELL!" at the top of their lungs while the green paper burns. With any help, The Powerbroker will bless their 3rd Quarter earnings. 

Inside a small barn in Kansas a mother shows her son how to slit the throat of a calf so it feels no pain. The two drag it through the fields, blessing the seedlings in the ground and invoking The Harvester.

Carlo places the gun against his heart. Outside, in the blasted ruins of a city with a name he couldn't pronounce, a battle rages. The sound of an Abrams treads encourages him to pull the trigger. The gun doesn't fire and he knows he is blessed by the Warrior, and will not die today.

*** The stars begin to fade after the jump ***

Reddit Writings: Established Universe Editon

Some reddit writing prompts  occasionally start with letters EU. This means that the question will be based in an already created world and the answer should take place in that world as well. I am hesitant when it comes to things that sound too much like fan-fiction on any level, but sometimes it's hard not to pass up an interesting idea with already established characters. So here are two EU questions and my answers.

The Predator arrives on Earth to find a hunt, and gets more than he bargained for... [prompt submitted by ForeverAloneExplorer]

Batista stood up from his crouch, whistled and placed his hat back on. The drop, drop, drop of blood was constant, eventually it would run out, but the pattern...

"Christ, is this city ever going to catch a break?" Batista, grabbed and sipped his coffee. 

"Well, we've ID'd the corpses." Deb made a motion to the three skinless bodies hanging upside down, tied to the basketball hoop with missing laces. The red, glistening corpses swayed almost imperceptibly. Miami heat was cooking the exposed muscles and nerves and the amount of bugs was staggering. They'd have to be cut down soon. 

"Geoffrey Ortega, Paul Raddisson and Nicki "The Shark" Alvarez." Deb continued, holding a hand to her mouth and nose. Small time hoods. I'd heard of Nicki before. Two suspected murder cases that he managed to get off of. He had done them, killed that old man and the woman. He was next on my list, but someone...something, beat me to him.

"Christ, Dexter, close your mouth before the flies get in there." Masuka nudged me and broke me from my thought. 

"Right. It looks like the victims were skinned with some sort of hunting knife. Done expertly. They were probably still screaming when the knife slid-" I began, but Deb choked, stopping me. 

"I'll wait for the report, Dex, but I need to get some air." Deb left and after a shrug Masuka followed. Batista sidled up close to me.

"What kind of monster would do this, Dex? Sure these punks may have had it coming but..." He wiped sweat away from his brow.

I know exactly what kind of monster would do this. My new friend. I tried not to smile, but the edges of my lips turned up anyway. A whole new game had begun and it was going to be out of this world.


*** Travel to a strange, new Gotham after the jump! ***

Reddit Writings 4

It has often been said that we are all one sentence away from insanity...

"What are you, but skin, blood and bones? Thoughts, feelings and emotions all tied up in a gooey, nature freindly disposable package. What makes you better than me? Different? You defend this city. They worship you. I prune this city and THEY HATE ME!"

"Why do I kill? Why do I maim, torture and use my cell phone in theaters?! That's an easy answer."

"We are alone."

"Utterly and terribly and wonderfully alone. Sure we say we have family, have friends and lovers, but what use are they when your drowning in an ocean? Maybe as rafts, until the sharks start circling. Then that's it! Bye bye. You're kaput and everyone forgets about you after a year. YOU DIE AND THERE IS NOTHING LEFT!"

"I kill them to put them out of their misery. Sure they may beg for mercy, but I grant them the kindest mercy. The utter release from the fact that we are alone. "

"But people like you and me, we put a mark on this world. No one will forget us."

"And I know you'll always be there for me, two peas in a pod you and me! Two bats in the belfry!"

"As long as one of us is alive, we'll never be alone. HAHAHAHAHA"

(More after the jump!)

Reddit Writings 3

Flash Fiction: You come to realize you exist within a computer simulation. Things were not always this way. (250 words)

        "Did you know octopi have their intelligence distributed through their arms?" Murph asks as he taps away at his keyboard.

         "Yeah, I saw a video of that once. They put an octopus in a new tank and half it's arms reached out to explore while the other half moved towards a little hidey hole." Martha yells over the sound of machinery. The grinding of the gears and the cooing slide of the pistons were a racket, but they had a sort of music behind them.

        "Do you think any of those arms ever wonder about being attached to the octopus? Ever just want to pop-off and explore the little tank on it's own? Maybe slither up and out and realize that universe is bigger than just four glass walls and some colored stones." Murph leans back and squints really hard at his screen.

        It flickers and for a moment he can see Earth hanging in dark surrounded by stars. His home, where his body still is, moving, laughing, living.

       His job now, Martha's, everyone within, was to make sure the MACHINE ran smoothly. Like a farmer, it cherry picked minds from Earth. Scanned them and replicated them within itself. Thousands, maybe millions of minds given form to take care of and treat the MACHINE.

       "No." Carol shook her head as she tightened a bolt. "The tentacle will die without the rest of the body and the octopus will just grow a new arm."

      Murph returned to work.


(More after the jump)

Reddit Writings 2

Flash Fiction:"I have fallen but the Sun has not."
     Do you remember the Winter nights? The tales of Autumn and Spring? The lusts of Summer?

     Aye boy, you don't. You've only lived in the sands and the wastes. You've only felt the coarse kiss of the wind as she picks herself up and whips through the valley.

     Do you know of darkness? No. The last time you felt darkness you were in your mother's belly, but even then Light came through. Burning you. Readying you.

    This is where the chariot fell. There was a time he ran through the sky and true, real darkness came, and then the the sun would reappear, gentle and soft. Not now. Now the sun leers at us, turns us dark and sick. Drinks water from our bones.

    It is here the mighty hunter Orios came and claimed he could bring down any game here or in heaven. Hearing his hubris, the sun rider himself shouted challenge from the sky above.

    Orios took aim, and proved himself that day the world's greatest hunter. The chariot that pulled the sun came crashing down. The the great steeds dead and the god himself choking on his own divine blood.

    'I have fallen, but the Sun has not'

    A curse. For the sun has not set, and darkness has not come for one hundred years. The sun will not move, for the rider is dead.

(More after the jump)

Reddit Writings

Due to my crazy hectic schedule writing can be get hard. Just writing small things can be hard. Then I discovered Reddit's writing prompt subreddit! There users put up a short prompt or ask for flash fiction and the other users respond. Real simple. I've been writing some responses and I thought I'd throw them up here.

Check out two more after the jump!

An incredibly intelligent person is trying to tell someone something important, but is losing their extensive vocabulary. Fast.

     The letter sat on the table. A glass paperweight held it down against a breeze from the open window next to the desk. Andrew picked it up.

      We were doing great things, Andrew. Through our extensive research we'd found a remedy to not only Alzheimer's but a variety of other memory degenerative diseases that came with age. We would've been heroes, Andrew, but we fucked up.

      I don't kno how the it escaped the lab. The cure was less of a pill more of a virus. The literl fountain of young youth. The problem was that it regrass it made you younger too fast. The body stays normal, but the brain begins to dwindle

     I am sory Andy. we just wanted to be nice. we just want to fix the wurld.

     im so scared i

     Andrew put down the note and sat in the chair. He knew there was writing on the paper, but he'd forgotten how to read. Mom read to him, but that was usually at night, right before bed. It was still day.

     Andy began to cry.

Check out two more after the jump!

Finding It's Way Back

Like, the unfinished, Ash Addicts, this was the start of a series of shorts in its own universe. It's more likely that I'll finish AA before adding anymore Lockeheart Stories.

I don't know what to do. I've removed it. It was messy. A left molar is sitting on blue plate, with happy little flowers painted on it. Spit and blood really seem to ruin the effect.

I can hear the lights again. I know that sounds ridiculous, but you have to believe me. They buzz. Like florescent lights, but, softer? Deeper? Like, you can feel it in your bones, hum.

When it starts I screw my eyes shut and get under the table with the dish. I can hear the small metallic worm thing attached to the tooth whipping around, scraping the clay of the plate. The house is shaking. The windows are rattling. Something like a high pitched pig's squeal begins to fill the cabin. It reaches a frequency and I'm terrified that when it finally stops, I'll be deaf.

Can't open my eyes.

The sound stops.

"Stover! Come in! Terry! He's all fucked up! Chief, pick up. Chris-" My radio blinks. Deputy Markus' voice crackles to a stop. I don't know why I haven't turned it off yet. What's left of the hum finally dies and I count to one-hundred before I slowly open my eyes. The cabin is dark again. THEY didn't find the body, slouched on the opposite wall from me. His head is back, mouth open, red saliva running down his chin.

Moving out from under the desk I notice the metal worm has stopped twitching. That's good. Always good when THEIR objects stop moving. It means that THEY are gone for now.

I open the door to the small cabin and warm late Summer wind blows in, but it doesn't console me. Gooseflesh runs down my arms as I see Lockeheart below me, at the base of the small mountain the cabin is on. The town is on fire. Smoke hangs over it. I want to scream out to the people, but I know better then that.

The smoke and fire aren't right. It begins to reverse. The smoke is pulled back down into the buildings and cars and shapes I can only assume are people. The fires begin to die and fade as the family homes begin to rebuild themselves. St. Micheal's, the only hospital in fifty miles, begins to grow out of the rubble, back to its normal shape. The charred bodies stand. Skin and clothes melt in reverse back onto their charred shapes. They begin to walk around. The cars start up and drive.

It's like Lockeheart wasn't a blasted crater just a moment ago.

I want to go down there. I want to go to Sal's and get a big greasy burger. I want to see my husband and kids.

Sounds of life from the town drift up to me. Stepping in, I close the door and try not to cry.

"Hey, chief, we're getting lots of reports of strange stuff this evening. Danny Whitehead said someone tried to break into his house tonight. Martha Bell said she's been hearing someone screaming out in the fields by her and Terry called back again. He found his dog, but the poor thing has been torn to shreds. Probably coyotes. Just going to be one of those nights." I listen to Markus' voice on the radio while I stare at his body, head back, mouth open, molar missing.

The dead man on the radio laughs. "Yeah, one of those nights."

It has been April 27th, for three days. The sun hasn't risen.

Every four hours THEY return and kill everyone.

Then Lockeheart finds its way back.