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Post by Deleted on Sept 6, 2016 9:42:06 GMT -5
Welcome ☆ Hidden in the woods, the cabin sits. Seemingly empty of life, the only thing ringing in the forest is the scolding song of many different birds. No breeze stirs the forest, and the trees stand still. They seem almost as if they are trying to hide from whatever resides in the dead house. However, you are not like the trees, standing cowardly. You are looking for her; the Storyteller. She has the accounts of the wonders of the world, of love, hate, and revenge, hidden with her. She keeps them away from the prying eyes of those who cannot handle the truth. They are happy with life, and looking at the scrolls will only put them in danger. Indeed, she is the last of the Dreamers. Imagination was banned so long ago, and yet she still held on. Now she is the remaining one, her fellow Dreamers all six feet under.
And you are going to get those scrolls of Imagination... no matter the cost.
Upon entering the cabin, you are greeted with the sound of a pencil scratching against paper. She is here. You listen as she huffs every few moments, then mumbles softly as she continues to scratch the tool; creating strange lines and shapes, she sits for a moment, glancing over her work, before continuing. You step further into the cabin, looking around at the dull wood walls. She seems unaware of your presence. And yet, as soon as you turn to look her way, she mutters, "You could've knocked." She turns around to look at you, her youth somewhat startling. Many of the people told of her people quite old, and yet she looked like nothing more than an adolescent. No signs of age were worn on her body.
As if reading your thoughts, she chuckles. "Yeah, I'm not as old as they say," she murmurs. Her voice is somewhat quiet, and she seems shy. However, as she continues to speak, her voice becomes a bit louder, revealing its slightly raspiness. "Like I said, knocking would be fine," she announced from her wooden desk. Giving you a slight glare, she turned back around and began to scribble again. Stepping forward to look at the drawing, you tried to decipher the strange things she had drawn onto the sheet of paper. She glanced at you a moment before muttering, "They're called words. Back when I was young, we still used them to tell others stories."
As she said the last word, you snapped to attention. "I'm here for the stories," you say to her, speaking over the writer's shoulder. Her pencil stops scratching, and she sits for a moment, as if she had died suddenly. Then she slowly turned around and glanced at you. Her dark brown eyes swept over you, darting behind her thick black glasses as she watched. Then she let out a steady sigh, and shook her head.
"You were always different from the rest," she said softly. Standing up from her simple wood chair, she nods. "Very well, then. You want to see the stories, and you shall." She then creeps up to you and says, "You must not tell these to the others. You will be shunned, and chaos will erupt because of the knowledge from the tales. You must promise me never to share them to anyone else."
She watches you carefully as you nod your head, aware of the grim warning. "Good," she murmurs. Waving her hand for you to follow, she walks slowly down a hallway, to a door with a large gold handle. Taking a key out of the pocket of her worn-out hoodie, she sticks it into the lock and twists. A small click resonates; and she pushes the door open. Inside, countless scrolls and books lay about - on shelves, the floor, and a nearby, dusty chair. She picks up a few of them, touching them gently, as if they were children. She continues to trace her hand along the scroll for another moment before she clears her throat, and picks up a few more.
"Here," she whispers. "Take these and leave. Bury them when you're done." She hands them t you, then begins to push you towards the exiting door. When you reach the outside, she quickly gazes around the woods, then makes a shooing motion with her hands. "Go now," she murmurs. "Beware of the heavy burden you must now carry. Read those, savor them, and then bury them. Those scrolls must never get into the wrong hands. Beware the one called Muse; he will give you the urge to tell and write stories of your own." With her final words, she shuts the door behind you, leaving you alone in the trees. Her words echo in your mind as you head off to a deeper part of the woods. A stump soon finds itself being sat upon as you decide to rest. It is time to begin reading these tales. As you open the scrolls, you are delighted to find it in a language you can understand. The Dreamer was wise to do this for you. Carefully opening the folded scroll, your eyes are drawn across the page as you take in the words... Author's Notes ☆ Heya! Welcome to Wonders. This is a thread where I post my short stories that I've written, but never shared. Some of these are from several years ago, while some are much newer. In each post, you'll find a new story to read over. I'll also include an author's note at the bottom of each, to say some things. These might include when I wrote the story, inspiration, trivia, and more! They are completely optional, though, and reading them is definitely not required. Well, if you're enjoying a certain story, don't be afraid to give a quick post! I'm always open for constructive criticism on my writing.
There will be multiple posts for stories, but near the bottom will be info on collabs, offering prompts, etc. Feel free to give it a read if you're interested! That's all I have to say now. Have fun reading, and don't be afraid to post if you have any questions. Adios, reader! (: |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 6, 2016 10:12:21 GMT -5
The Beast ☆ "Stupid book," John mumbled. He glanced at the paper cut on his paw before wiping it on his hoodie, leaving a red splotch from the blood. That’s never going to come out, he thought bitterly. He turned back to his book about mythical creatures, staring in awe at the beautiful drawings of minotaurs, pegasi, unicorns, and more. He had already read this book many times through, but he always enjoyed seeing the fantastic sketches. They definitely helped with his reports on different creatures. He was a researcher in his Village (known as Destario), but was known by the title "Crazy Dog". Sure, he was a researcher, but he didn't look up normal things like animals or plants. Instead, he searched for legends: things like the "Loch Ness Monster”, "Bigfoot", and even the characters of the ghost stories that were famous in his Village, such as "No Head Ned". Other animals in the town had different reactions to him when he walked through the streets: some pointed and laughed, some cowered away, and some even whispered to each other terrible rumors. This did not affect him. He heard their laughs and whispers, but he didn't care.
Right now, the only thing he cared about was finding one of the most well-known legendary creatures: the dragon. He sat in the library for hours, reading as many books as he could about the great beast; from fictional stories with dragons to studies of the legend of the beast and its origins, he studied all of them. He even read several accounts of creatures saying that they had seen dragons. John knew that they were all fake, because the "dragon" in their stories never had the reaction. Some people said that the dragon cowered away; others said that it attacked them. Some even said that they themselves attacked it, and that the dragon simply flew away. Lies, John thought to himself. He was going to find a real dragon, film it, and show the world that the legendary beast was real!
He was soon interrupted in his mental rant when he heard a raspy voice say, "Library is closing, John Curbine." The dog didn't even have to glance up to know that it was Miss Cutt, the librarian for 40 years talking to him.
He sighed and said, "’K, ma'am. I'm leaving now. May I please check out these books?" He glanced up to see the old, grey-and-brown wolf glaring at him.
"No, you may not," she growled, showing yellowing teeth, "because your others books are over-due."
He sighed, then mumbled a down-hearted "Yes, ma'am" before taking his papers and favorite pen and leaving. He felt the cool night air hit his face, and suddenly realized how stuffy it was in the library. He headed out to a slightly over-grown path in the woods: the way home. He lived by himself in a 3 room, one story house. People often called him a “hermit" because of that. Walking down the path, he felt the soft dirt beneath his paws, and took in the familiar scents before slightly flinching. There was a new scent in the air, and it smelled like smoke.
His tail began wagging back and forth. Forest fires always excited him, because they were so beautiful and they made way for new life. His house was in a clearing with no trees or plants in it, surrounded by a shallow but wide moat of water, so he knew it would be safe. He ran, following the scent, but stopped when another foreign scent came to him. It was a weird scent; it smelled strange, yet familiar… it was like the musty smell of dying fire and smoke, but had a familiar waft mixed in. Lizard? he t This confused him greatly, but he pressed on. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his camera to film the fire, so that he could capture its memory forever.
He finally saw flames after about 10 minutes of walking, but when he got closer to them, he realized that they were dying, and the fact that there was something throwing water from a nearby pond on them. Next to a long line of skinny pine trees that lined the pond stood a scaly, purple creature. It was an intimidating beast, with razor sharp claws and teeth and a long, spiked tail. John stared, his mouth wide open, his camera still recording. It was a dragon. The creature finally doused the flames after several attempts at scooping water from the pond. When the creature looked to the side, it saw John and the camera he was holding. The dog still stood there as the dragon watched him with large, yellow eyes. John could've sworn he heard a whispery voice in his head say, "Don't tell them about me" before the creature lifted its giant wings and silently took off. He still stared after it until it disappeared in the distance, then looked down at the camera. He had recorded the entire encounter. He suddenly wanted to run around the Village, and show everyone the picture of the Dragon to show that he wasn't crazy. But he had common-sense; he knew that the Villagers would probably hunt the dragon down and try to kill it. So, with one last look, John dropped the camera, and using a nearby rock, smashed it into a million pieces. Author's Notes ☆ I guess you could say that this was my very first short story ever. It was written around 2013, and was inspired by a dressup of a pet that I made on Chicken Smoothie. I originally posted the story (along with the dressup) in the Fun Ways to Use Items! thread. I recently went over it again and edited it slightly to fix grammar mistakes and hings I thought didn't fit very well. I was planning on making this a whole book and calling it The Knowledge of the Dragon, but that is still up in the air. For now, I have a little bit that I wrote for a "Chapter 2", though I'm not satisfied with it. Battling Fear ☆ "It is time to be brave. Draw your swords, my knights. We must be ready." The call went through the forest, coming from Tobias as he rode forward; despite his words, a sense of dismay began filling his chest. His black stallion snorted beneath him as if it could feel the dread radiating through the group. Behind him, two more armored people riding on horses followed, swords in hand. One was a young woman with long, blonde hair atop a chestnut-and-white stallion. Gwyneth... one of his most trusted companions.
To her right was Sir Zarius, a gruff-looking man with a face full of stubble and thick black hair. His dark eyes always seemed unhappy, but today, there was a touch of something else. His horse was a grey mare with a white cross on her head. In his hand, Zarius held his favorite sword, with the handle being carved into the head of a dragon. Gwyneth held a similar sword, though hers was carved into a wolf instead.
Tobias glanced down at his own sword. How he had come to lead these two brave people, he would never know. All that came to him was that it was time for the brawl that would decide their fates. They reached the mouth of a cave resting in a looming, snow-topped mountain. Glancing upwards, another twinge of anxiety filled the man's dark blue eyes as he stared at the seemingly endless rocky hills. But, today was a day that he would remember for years to come, if not forever. Better not to make the memory one of cowardice.
Letting out a huff of air, he waved his hand to beckon the others to follow, then let out a quiet "H'yah". Dameron, his horse, followed order quickly and quietly, beginning to trot forward. As they entered the cave, the sounds of the trio's breathing and the clip-clop of hooves echoed all around. Even as they traveled in farther, the light still held steady, giving the group a dim sighting of the walls around them. A hidden bat squeaked above, its beady eyes glaring at them, before it dropped in a seemingly suicidal way and flapped its wings, taking off to an unknown place.
The caves had a way of bringing feelings of misery about. Tobias could her Zarius whispering to himself, while Gwyneth was breathing heavily. Up ahead, a loud wheezing sound was whooshing through the tunnels, much like winds blowing heavily. Finally, the light brightened, and they came into a larger expanse where the ceiling was partially cut out. In front of them was their mission: Fear.
The large creature was dozing, its eyes closed in a peaceful manner. However, that did nothing to make it any less terrifying. What it was supposed to be was unknown. It was an almost-black creature... much like coal. Its head was that of a large lizard, and large nostrils spewed smoke as it breathed. Curled, dull grey horns rested on top of its head, much like that of a ram's horns. Sharp fangs stuck out over its bottom jaw, giving it a much more terrifying appearance. Massive claws jutted out from its feet, with what appeared to be dried blood caked on them. One long, lashing tail rested behind it, accompanied by multiple, deep purple spikes running down it. More spikes rested on its back, and on either side of the spine were two large, folded wings.
As the trio entered the large cave, Fear opened her eyes, revealing large, blood-red pupils outlined with lighter pink. Almost immediately, a growl came from the creature, and she rose, her once-folded wings spreading out now. Her snarl became more audible, her once wide pupils now thin slits. Below her, the humans and horses waited bravely, all of them standing their ground. The creature opened its jaws, revealing yellowing teeth. At once, Tobias unsheathed his sword, and his companions raised theirs in defense.
"Friends," Tobias called. "Today will be one we remember for the rest of our lives… if we escape with them. Do not dwell upon your feelings of fright. Instead, fight them, and drive them back to the dark abyss where they came from."
Indeed, they were battling Fear.
This is probably my most faorite story I've ever written. It is an explanation of my original (and sometimes used) screenname: Battling Fear. This story didn't actually take that long, but I enjoyed every minute of it. Well, here's a little trivia tidbit for you: Sir Zarius is actually an alternate version of one of my characters in a different short story. In this tale, he's described as being gruff, but in the other story, he's actually quite friendly. He also has a sister named Maria. The story with Zarius is till being written, but I hope to post it soon! (: |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 6, 2016 10:27:53 GMT -5
Unstoppable ☆ “In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.” –Leonardo da Vinci
Sometimes, we try to rush things in life. We want to go our own path, but that isn’t an option. Life is like a river; it takes us where we are lead. My life has been an example of that.
The sun was setting as I trekked along, following the winding, dusty path that led to my temporary home. It danced on my silvery-grey pelt, causing illusions and patterns. Shadows were cast all along the ground, as if they were just waking up to celebrate the night. My pawsteps were heavy, and I was tired. It had been a long day, and I was ready to rest. As I passed by scattered trees on the moorland, my blue gaze flickered to the forest, where I once roamed. Now, it seems, that time is gone. As I continue along my solitary journey, I prick my ears for the familiar sound of running water. The Life River… always continuing its course. Despite the recent events that had happened near there, it still went on, as if nothing had happened.
“I’m still haunted by those memories,” I meow out loud, glaring in the direction of the forest. The River did not respond. Flicking my tail in annoyance, I was relieved when I came upon the abandoned Tallbeast barn that I called home. Not bothering to enter my home, I decided to settle near the door and rest. Indeed, the river kept on running, its course not interrupted. Even if it was blocked, it would find a way to navigate and keep on going.
Indeed, the river did not care of Shellblade’s death by the paws of a JumpingClan warrior, nor did it care that I was accused. It kept on running. “You’re like life,” I said out loud, knowing that the river would listen. “You don’t care what happens. You just keep on going and find a way.” The Life River trickled its agreement. Indeed, I needed to follow its path. Forget Shellblade, Rootstar, and RunningClan. Forget Shellblade’s unborn kits that rested inside of me. Even forget Dullfur and my plot for revenge. I was going to run like the river. I would navigate life without being stopped. I would stumble, I would cry, I would feel anger. I would eventually die, and my course of life be put on hold. But I would not stop. I am Riverheart, and I am unstoppable.
Author's Notes ☆ There;s really not that much to say about this one. Simply, I wrote this originally for a Tuesday Challenge on the original forums, in which I placed 3rd. I Saw Her Standing There ☆ Coming soon!
Author's Notes ☆ Rambles go here. |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 6, 2016 10:30:26 GMT -5
It's Me ☆ How can you not remember me?
You are, after all, the one that left me to this cruel life... no, cruel death. Torture. Seeing horrors I wish had never been. You're the one that stripped me of my life, my dignity... my feelings. I am but an empty corpse, unfeeling. At least, I was. Not anymore.
That creature... he was one of those that you hurt. He is lost, like us. He is broken... and yet he put me - and my friends - back together again. We are alive again, though in strange ways. He gave us the Gift of Life. And he gave me my feelings again. Before, I felt a mix of emotions... I was an innocent child, happy and carefree but aware of the troubles of the world. I was rebellious, but repentant. I was curious, but cautious.
Now I'm just angry.
When he gave me a strange new life yet again, I felt it... the burning fire within my new body; a strange emotion that was nearly unbeatable. He gave me comfort, though. Told me that everything would come in its own time for me and my friends. And, wow... was he ever right. I guess he really is smart.
For a Marionette, that is.
"Control yourself," he would tell me. "Take only what you need from it." And I listened. I took my time in this utterly horrible life... being forced to sing once-familiar songs that now haunted me, bringing memories of that strange Man. The one who is behind it all... it was all Him. And he will pay.
Wendy - excuse me, Freddy - had told me that He was coming back. According to our Life-Giver, at least. It had been a long day when he told me, and I felt little happiness about the chance to take revenge. My life was broken enough already... how could we possibly make Him miserable?
The restaurant had closed down for the night. The same routine that now was as familiar as the children that came in, day after day. An announcement goes over the loud speakers from the janitor. People begin finishing their food and using their tickets and tokens as quickly as possible. Then they all file out in one large crowd. Sometimes, a child gets stranded, even left behind... then we wait another hour for the parents to be found.
That night, it had happened more quickly than usual. People seemed eager to leave. Why are they leaving so early? I think to myself, hoping that our friend will know. He hasn't been the same, though, since we left, and he was put away. I hear the familiar, crackling static before the soft voice replies, It is a holiday. Halloween, to be specific. People want to leave so they can go trick-or-treating. Then the white noise ends... and he is asleep yet again.
That was rather satisfying of an answer, I will admit. Even with his lack of life, he had somehow given us answers. I had felt some guilt for waking him... but now, I don't know why. He didn't even need to sleep.
That night, there had been no familiar click of the door as the security guard for that night stepped in. Instead, it was silent. I remember the quiet being almost overpowering, and I felt the urge to get up and move. However, I caught Freddy's eye, and thought better.
It was then that we saw it.
Whatever it was, it looked like Freddy. But... it was different. This one had the same shape as the bear, but it was a deep violet. Its eyes were simple black sockets; and yet, it seemed to be staring at us.
"Follow me." Its voice was rough and quiet, as if it hadn't spoken for a long time. Then it disappeared.
None of us moved as we stared at where the Fazbear look-alike had vanished. We stayed put as we always did, waiting patiently for the clock to strike 12. And it did. The chiming tone rang through the pizzeria, signaling our time to move... But no one did.
Finally, after what seemed forever, Freddy moved. He stepped to the side suddenly, startling me slightly. Heading down the stairs, he moved quietly, the stage creaking as he stepped off onto the stained carpet. He stared at that hall where the entity had disappeared. Glancing behind him, he stared at Chica and me for a moment before moving towards the hall. And then he was gone.
He didn't come back, in case you were wondering.
As we stood there, the awkward silence filled simply with the ticking of the wall-clock, we patiently stood. But, our friend was nowhere to be seen. A sense of loyalty had filled me as we waited; I wanted to step off the stage and follow our friend. However, that wasn't what caused me to move. It was the thing, rather.
I could see its shadowy form in the hallway as it stood there, staring. Follow me. The voice rang through my head as I stood there. I didn't trust that creature at all. It was creepy as heck, and anyway, the still-missing Freddy had never come back from it. Would I risk myself to save my friend? Well...
I stepped down the stairs and followed the entity.
As I walked after him, I could hear the sound of rattling up ahead. A security guard? Someone was here? The creepy thing took a left as I followed him, heading for a wall. And suddenly, he walked through it. Completely gone. I'm not exaggerating when I say that my mind was blown. How that thing managed to get through the wall, I'll never know. And yet, when I tried, I couldn't, no matter what I did. However, I did find the wall to be somewhat loose...
I stepped backward as I heard the scuffling noise yet again; this time it was much louder. Then, the wall slid open... and He stood there. The Purple Man. Ax in hand, he stared right back at me. The weapon glinted in the flickering lights that came from the room. We both were unmoving, as if daring the other to come a little closer.
He ran at me, the ax raised.
I didn't have time to react... even if I did, what could I do? I was slow, much slower than a regular being. He would easily hunt me down. So, I stood there, letting him cover the distance between us. And suddenly, that sharp tool was cutting into me. No, killing me. It slammed into me over and over, ripping apart the soft material that had covered me, revealing my endoskeleton. It was then that I noticed the remains of Freddy in the corner... he was in pieces, ripped apart, dead. Horror flashed through me as I realized that this was going to be my own ending.
Why was he killing me? I hadn't done anything to him. He was the one that hurt me, shoved me into this wretched suit where I was jailed for what seemed to be years... and suddenly, I was free. I could move much more smoothly. I could stretch, and feel my aching muscles relax. I was fine.
He stood there, leaning on the handle of the tool, panting. Perspiration ran down his forehead as he took a moment to breath. My former body was laying there, mangled and torn. But I didn't care. I was finally free.
"Our time is now." The voice whispers in my ear, and a small hand is laid on my shoulder. It's my friend. He seems happy himself... no longer is he trapped in the Marionette's body. His freckled face seems sad, but satisfied at the same time.
It was then that we knew it was time.
Chica eventually met the same painful death as us... then Fredbear. Foxy soon followed. We were all together again, and the time was right. We followed our killer into the hidden room... and he panicked when he saw us. Riley - who was originally Fredbear - had felt too scared to join us, so she had hidden herself away. However, the rest of us were there. The Marionette, returning to Anthony. Freddy, returning to Wendy. Chica, returning to Thomas. Foxy, returning to Sari. And finally, me...
Bonnie, returning to Austin.
There was so much happiness with us all as Anthony followed the Purple Man around, his panic obvious. He jumped into the old Bonnie suit... the one that had been with Fredbear way back when. And he laughed, his harsh cackling ringing around the room. The suit collapsed in on him, and his scream was evident as it closed around him, breaking bones, tearing into his body. He fell onto his knees, blood pouring onto the floor; then he collapsed onto his back.
He died, just so you know.
The Marionette told us that we could finally be free. He found Riley, then lead us through a hallway... children sat happily, masks on their face, in front of large cakes. We arrived at a large room that was hidden... a large, color-deprived cake sat on the table. He gathered us around, smiling, telling us that we could be free again. He gave us each a balloon... and told us that it was our time to leave. We each released our balloons together, and finally, I felt peace. I was free yet again. I was happy. I could rest. I still remember his smile as he watched us each fade away. He didn't join us for our party. We had cake... it was his favorite flavor: vanilla with chocolate icing.
He still was able to watch us. I could feel his presence as we rested and lived a life we never were able to have... a happy one. I still did not understand why he wouldn't join us in this place of happiness. But, he told me that the torture of our killer was not done yet. He would suffer in that suit; awakened every night, he would be forced to live in that pain. Much like our pain was, he too would suffer. He would learn of our pain.
And, a long time later, found ourselves able to see the place where he was. He was stuck in that place, having to live in that horrible suit. "It's me," we could hear him whisper sometimes as he wandered the halls, going after the laughter of children if he heard it. "Save me... please. I'm sorry."
You can't.
Author's Notes ☆ Literally, something I slapped together in about 30 minutes while listening to a loops of "K I D S". I thought it would be interesting to tell the story of what happened to the children after Purple Man jumped into the Springtrap suit. Story Title ☆ Coming soon!
Author's Notes ☆ Rambles go here. |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 6, 2016 10:31:02 GMT -5
Story Title ☆ Coming soon!
Author's Notes ☆ Rambles go here. Story Title ☆ Coming soon!
Author's Notes ☆ Rambles go here. |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 6, 2016 10:31:22 GMT -5
Story Title ☆ Coming soon!
Author's Notes ☆ Rambles go here. Story Title ☆ Coming soon!
Author's Notes ☆ Rambles go here. |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 6, 2016 10:32:26 GMT -5
Fans ☆ None. Join my army. We have cookies.
Reviews ☆ None. Write one today!
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Post by Deleted on Sept 6, 2016 10:33:22 GMT -5
Prompts to Write ☆ None. Give me a prompt, and I'll write a short story for it!
Collab Projects ☆ Closed for now.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 23, 2016 10:29:47 GMT -5
Bump.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2016 16:22:35 GMT -5
Bump.
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