Your sword consumes the souls of its victims and passes some of their strength on to you. The problem is that it started as a dagger and is now a claymore. How will you tell your evil blade that it needs to go on a diet?
Black steel thorns began to wrap around the pale skin of a woman's wrist. A little prick and blood of crimson began trail and drop down upon the hilt of a massive ebony hued blade--the vines growing further and further along the woman's arm.
The full moon's light cast down below and upon a sprawling city of dull gas-light, rain slick stones, and the woman standing atop the rooftops holding her massive chunk of metal.
Her red eyes like rubies illuminated with the shared bloodlust of her blade. A crimson gem with a demon-like eye was encrusted upon the crossgaurd. Fresh blood stained the long blade's edge.
She took two steps and looked down upon an alleyway.
Two men walked with their heads and voices low near to one another, speaking hushedly. They wore the shaped metal of the city guard, the image of a dragon's head wearing a crown bent into their breastplate and pauldrons.
"Another murder." Said one. "One of our own."
The other grumbled. "I say we leave well enough alone of these murders. I don't want to end up dead like half the investigators. My coins are betting it is some high and noble lord with more power and gold than sense or morals. It is beyond us common folk--duty be damned. I got a wife and child on the way. I would sooner quit than be assigned to the task force."
"Same here--I want no business of this..." The man's voice began to trail and he looked up.
"What is the matter?" The other looked to see what his companion's eyes had wandered too.
The man shook his head. "Nothing. Thought I saw someone."
"On the roof? Hah. You are paranoid my dear friend..." The man looked down and put an arm on his companion. "I understand. This murders are getting more and more brutal. Lets just stay clear of it the best we can and live another day."
Voices laughed, and cheers were raised in the dancing hall of the manor. Many long nosed and regal looking portraits looked down at the patrons as they idly chatted and danced with one another to the tune of groaning timbers and strings.
"It is almost laughable really." Belted a woman clad in red and her chubby face caked with the powder of sweets. She mumbled another comment but her mouth became full of sweets and pastries. She swallowed and spewed enough crumbs to speak, "They haven't implicated a single person in all these murders or find any witnesses--really what good is the town gaurd at all if they can't catch common criminal. They ought to be locked up themselves if they think our generous taxes will pay for them to sit around the city with their swords up their asses."
Others had gathered around the woman, and shared in her mirth as she continued...
"I hear a rumor that they are too afraid to even go after this so called Butcher of Bellar. Honestly--those duty-less cowards--hardly worth the armor we put on them."
The laughter began to dissapear around the woman, and their gazes shifted akwardly behind her...
She turned around and look to see another woman clad in a dress of black and red looking out a window with a cold and vacant expression, silently looking out to the moonlit city below.
"Oh. I am sorry dear." Said the woman, and approached. The group following behind her. "I didn't really mean it, Lady Blackthorne. I am sure they will catch your husband's killer soon and you may have some peace when they string the bastard up by his tendons."
Lady Blackthorne had always been described as a sullen girl, with her hair and sharp eyebrows dark as night. As of late though--they described her as more and more sullen and isolated after her husband's untimely and violent passing.
"It is alright, Lady Cheffield." She said, her eyes not breaking away from her reflection in the glass.
The lady Cheffield searched for words and akwardly looked to her retinue. "Well." She said. "It is good of you to host this party. It is good for the other people of importance to see you."
The woman begna to search for more words to say and start a conversation--or atleast an excuse to escape somber air of Lady Blackthorne. "Well. What are you looking at, milady?"
The Lady Blackthorne clasped her hands together and raised her gaze to the horizon. "Meticulously thinking of my plans later tonight." She turned herself around and began to look over the many people that filled the hall. Her eyes sharp and lowered in contempt.
An eerie breath began to make the hairs on Lady Cheffield's neck stand on end--something about the other woman's silence unnerved her. Then their eyes met. A cold feeling began to roll down Lady Cheffield's throat.
"Is there something I can help you with, Milady?" Said Blackthorne.
Her words froze in her throat for a moment. "Oh. No. I am. Fine. Thank you."
Lady Blackthorne gave a curt nod and began to move about the room.
For the remainder of he evening Lady Cheffield tried to forget about the encounter--but her eyes kept being drawn the Lady Blackthorne skulking around the room carefully watching her guests.
Lord Ramwell groaned and shifted in the bed. In his stupor, his hands could feel something wet and warm by his head. "Ugh. You stupid hussies--what have I told you about wine in my bed." The lord cracked his eyes and strained to look for the two women in his bed chamber so he could give them a proper scolding.
He blinked a few times and he could see the sweet innocent and youthful Krisilda staring with her eyes and mouth open, frozen in a look of horror, and blood trailing down her throat all clearly visible from the moonlight gleaming through his window.
The lord shuddered and bumbled a noise as the sense fear began to give him a kick in the gut. He scrambled away and to the other side of the bed--only to bump into Myrna and feel the warm wetness again.
His head snapped and he could see the ebony skinned woman lying face down a thick gash through the middle of her spine.
His eyes shifted to a silhouette of a woman wielding a giant blade. He almost wailed a scream--but his hands came to his mouth--his wits telling him not to do anything that would get him killed.
He tried to breath, but he could now smell the blood. He forced himself to stomach a few huffs trying to collect himself, and tried to keep his stomach from forcing up his wine and cake. "Wh-what do you want?" He said. His eyes squinted and he tried to make out the expression and demeanor of the woman. The blade shifted, and he could see a blood-red ruby eye staring at him from the gaurd...
THe figure came closer and began to move to the foot of his bed. Her boots stepping in the pools of blood on the fabric as she rose atop and looked down. Her eyes were just as the blade's, and the man could feel the cold breath of fear covering him.
His eyes widened as he realized who the woman was... "Lady Blackthorne." He said in total shock. Her arm had been covered in thorns that crept along her arm, writhing and coming forther from the blade. Her hands gripped the hilt and she raised the weapon above her head.
"Tell me." She said. "Tell me who murdered my husband."
The man searched for words, "I don't know." He said, and the sword began to swing down. "Wait!" he said shielding his face and closing his eyes tightly. A second passed... Two, and he still atleast thought he was alive. He peaked his eye open to see the blade near to his throat.
"Go on." She said.
(max words reached, part 2)
"I... I..." Words feeling like bloated junks of meat trying to find their way up with his wine and cake.
The man turned on his side and cast out his sickness upon Myrna.
"My husband's murder, you paid the investigators a handsome some after his death. Tell me why." She said, and began to press the heavy blade down against his skin.
His eyes shot open and he began to wipe his lips of the mess. "I was distraught over his death--he and I were best friends--you remember--we were always playing together as children. I loved him! You know I would never hurt him--I had nothing to do with his murder--I swear. I payed the gaurd handsomely to encourage them to try their hardest. I assured them with my solemn oath that they would not be punished even if their methods for finding justice were less than legal. I loved him! I want his murdered found as much as you do, Lys--to have a dagger slashed across their throat like they did to him. I only did it because I want you to have peace--like he would have wanted. You two were my dearest friends."
The man covered his eyes with his hands and he begun spill tears--all his words he meant.
"Oh." Said Lady Blackthorne. "That is so kind of you to say."
The lord peaked up again. The blade still pointed at him.
"Kind, but I am still going to kill you." She said.
Shock stopped the man's heart. "But I told you everything. I am not lying. I want to know who killed him."
"Oh. I know who killed him." She said, and began to press the blade down--piercing his throat and gargling and scream he tried to let loose. "I did. I thought it would just be fun to see what you would say."
The room began to darken as the moon becamed obscured by the dark night's clouds.
"As cruel as ever." Groaned a voice. "Delightful." The blade hissed in enjoyment. Blood spilling from the corpse added weight to the blade as it grew larger and large. The woman beginning to shake with the girth, or perhaps the thrill of the kill... It was not matter to the blade though--as the thorns began to grow further along her arms.
"How ever will I tell you to stop your hunger." She said, lifting the blade out from the man.
"You can not tell me to stop my hunger as much as I can tell you to stop yours. I have grown ravenous over the centuries of being locked within that box. I thought I would wither away one day, until you came to me many many years ago."
"You were so much lighter when I was little. I worry one day I will barely be able to lift you."
"Worry not, my dear Lys." The blade began to give a laugh, and the two moved to the window. "As I grow in power, so do you--and I haven't felt this powerful in many centuries since my original master--and you and I haven't scratched the surface of the power we can wield together... "
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Blood drips. A child calls out in pain, gripping a wound. Running--running fast down corridors slick with blood, Skulls of blood forming along walls that start to soak with crimson colors. Corridors that go on and on, grim fatal masks staring down, laughing, coming nigh--ichor forcing and pouring within--suffocating--call out--call out a dying body calls out a cry for air.
Again--Looking upon blank halls, A child walks again through halls and corridors. Wounds gone for now, but sounds far away and coming nigh sing a song that is all too familiar...
"No. No..." A child says.
Claws grinding and scratching, coming for a child again and again.
You live in a small village where not so much happens, so you often sneak away and travel into the near by towns where there are local brawls that decide any disputes. Brawls can break out for any reason, haggling, law breaking, a disagreement, a payment method, even gambling. Besides the rule of no killing, anything goes. You can hire someone to brawl for you. They can uses weapons, magic, and any that will help them get ahead.
On one of them days you leave you village and go to a nearby town, you meet someone graciously unearthly good-looking and you are immediately attracted to them. They get into a bit of trouble, and you step in to help, only to find out, this person is a royal family member trying to get rid of the brawling system and has been sent into exile.
You are now considered an accomplice. Will you except your exile or help get rid of the brawling system?
"Well. I don't give a shit." The Dwarven man that was called Boz thrust him empty mug up in the air. "More beer!" he shouted at a dwarven lass that carried a full stack of twenty beers as she distributed them around.
"Listen... Please." Sitting across from Boz, a refined and significantly less stout and stocky female dwarf. "It isn't right to be settling all our disputes with conflict all the time. There are many matters that..."
"Hush with your prattle. I maybe have thought you were something special before--but the trouble you have caused me is something I ought to give you a black eye for. Maybe two if this exile business keeps up."
The barmaid put down a tankard and was about to set down another for the Boz companion when...
"No thank you--I don't drink." She said.
Her words caused a rolling silence..
Boz rose istantly and gave a forceful "HAH! Of course she drinks. What an inane joke this woman says."
There was few chuckles, and the barmaid hesitated for a moment before putting down a drink for the woman.
As the cheer and volume began to rise, Boz leaned in. "I can see why you've been exiled. What is the matter with you? Your parents send you to live with tree-suckling elves your entire life?"
"No. Well. Humans."
"Oh," Boz took a swing of his drink and solemly put his tankard down. "You're that princess. The one taken as a political prisoner."
"I wasn't a prisoner... I was on a mission to keep the peace."
"What happened? They get annoyed of you too?"
Her eyes lowered to the mug that she still hadn't touched... "No. I just didn't feel I had a place there anymore. It doesn't appear I have a place here either."
Boz scoffed. "It isn't my problem. The only thing I care about is fighting. Me mam and pap never liked brawling much either, but they were atleast dwarve enough to not believe it a bad thing."
"It is barbar--..."
Boz cut her off with a mean glare. "Listen here. I see you've got yourself in a bit of trouble because of your queer thoughts. So I suggest you dwarve up, and march on back to your castle or keep and punch fight your way till you get yourself unexiled, Princess Larig right?"
"I am not a fighter... I don't want to be a fighter." Said Lorig. "This isn't an issue that I believe should be solved by fighting."
"Well--I can't see any other way of..." Boz began to trail his words away and grimace as he took a long drawn swig of his drink. "What do you bastards want?"
A band of dwarves had began to encricle the table. They were armored. Hammers at their sides. Helmets with the symbol of the town guard.
One among them had a horned helmet. "Sorry Boz, it appears you got yourself into some trouble and I have to ask you and the princ... This woman to leave the town."
"Oh shut your fuckin' face, Tori. I'll kick your ass if you think you can exile me."
"I'm sorry, Boz. You can't brawl your way out of this one. You don't have the legal right to."
Boz put down his drink and rose with his hands on the table. He whipped to face the captain of the gaurd and squared up directly face to face with not even an inch between them. "It isn't about laws or rights. It is about dwarven principle."
The bar began to quiet down and they began to listen to Boz...
"It is about our culture, and the respect of doing things the dwarven way. I have kicked your ass a hundred times, and you have kicked mine at least half a dozen times more. I don't care if I lose. I respect you for fighting and believing in something enough to get your ass kicked--and you always respected it when I won. We never in all our years of being friends held a grudge or had any ill will toward another."
"Boz... Please." Said Tori. "It is dangerous for you to be looking for fights and not be protected by the law, and we have a duty to uphold the ruling of exile to you and to... This woman."
"Alright Tori, I understand." Said the dwarve, turning around and taking the two tankards off the table. He began to walk away into the stone hallways of the mountain. "I understand yours isn't the ass I have to kick. Come along now princess, I see we have a journey to have. Hopefully along the way you learn what it is to be dwarve."
The woman scuttled after the man, and they walked along the engraved stone hallway that stretched on for miles--connecting the thousands of villages and cities hidden beneath the mountain.
"I'll kick your father ass if I have to."
"My father doesn't fight anymore--he has a royal--"
"I'll kick his ass too."
"Please--you don't have to do this for me."
"I'll kick your ass if you think I am doing this for you. I already made the mistake of kicking other peoples ass for you. You can kick your father's ass and his champion's too for yourself."
Boz began to drink from both tankards, one after the other. Grumbling to himself about asses he was going to kick...
A figure began to come closer, fully cloaked and fumbling at his side and withdrawing something from his hip. He began to lunge forward directly at the princess--and before he even finished his step and fully revealed his dagger he was on the ground. A tankard smashed into his skull.
"Bastard. I don't care who this guy is or why he wanted to kill you--but I'll kick anyone's as who tries to fight dirty with a knife against a worthless princess."
Boz grumbled and kept walking, finishing his tankard... Muttering to himself. "I'll kick all their asses."
That unique staff embues its user with the favor of the goddess of wisdom. A shame it has fallen into the hands of an ogre.
Obak, a grey skinned and fearsome sized 20 foot ogre, began to pick his toes with his new "Pickin' stick" relaxing leisurely in his caved littered with the bones of goats, cattle, and the random junk he has collected over his very long and lazy life.
There came a ruffled hooting from atop artistically placed set of animals skulls that piled up to make a sizable mound.
An owl fluttered its wings and spoke. "You make little use of the staff, Ogre. Perhaps you could return to a simple understanding of the world and be able to enjoy your squalor in ignorant bliss."
"Me thinks not," Said the ogre moving the sticks to begin picking at his oversized ears. "Relinquishing the wisdom granted by this here staff would be quiet foolish of me... Plus, I rather enjoy the company of a minor goddess such as yourself."
The owl hooted in displeasure. "That staff was meant for my chosen champion. I had expended a great deal of my influence in this realm for it to find a suitable champion--it fell from the heavens and chose the wisest mortal in the entire realm."
"That scrawny child didn't seem very wise wandering into the forest alone, and dropping his staff when he ran. All I wanted to do was scare him a little. Though I wonder what he was even planning on doing."
"I created the staff to seek out the wise and inspire the wielder upon a journey to amass wisdom and wealth of philosophical treasures." The owl began to slip from the pile as the bones toppled over and she took flight.
"Hrm. I am not so inclined to travel. Perhaps that is because I understand the consequences of leaving my forest."
The two were quiet for a time as the ogre began to pick underneath his fingernails.
The owl sunk low and began to take stray garbage in its beak and talons, scraps of cloth and dried grasses mostly. Solemly building a nest... "My father was right."
"Oh? I am quite interested in hearing what the God of Gods thinks."
"The wisdom of mortals has waned." The owl began to perch circle around the shaudily made nest and look down to the dirt. "I was called foolish for believing there was something value in the wisdom of mortals. I saw something that I believe we could learn from. My brothers and sisters thought I was insulting them by considering mortals even had any other value than to feed their egos and power over the mortal realm. Now... I am am just a foolish barn-owl in an ogre's cave. The staff was my last effort to rekindle a... Hope I had had. I wanted to seek out something new and profound that would make them see that there was still something to learn... But..." The owl sunk low as her thoughts trailed, and her eyes revealed her a sadness.
The ogre stopped his grooming, and let out a though "Hrm." He shifted himself to lay down and face the owl. "That is a wise belief to have. Even though I have relegated to being secluded into this forest, news from foreign lands still comes my way. Mortals are quite fond of growing wiser and wiser."
The owl shook her head. "Not so much anymore. Things have become perilous in many nations. War. Political strife. Libraries burned in sieges... Knowledge and books lost. Teachers, and philosophers turned soldiers never to return to their lecture halls."
"Well. Perhaps it will all blow over and peace can return and wisdom will once again be appreciated."
The owl shook her again. "Fueled by the other gods, the continues strife is assured. They want to presume a certain status of the world they find most entertaining. Pitting their champions and followers against one another... I pleaded with my father, and I suppose my siblings supported the thought of me becoming bound to the mortal world. I wish I hadn't been so critical and... Annoying to them."
"Oh ha!" The ogre pounded the floor with his hand and caused the pile of bones to collapse even further. "I don't find you annoying at all. Perhaps some of the best company I have had in centuries. If you ask me--it is smart that the gods want to keep the things the same. Given time, I am sure the mortals would climb their way to the heavens and return the favor for centuries of war and death."
The owl turned her head to the side, finding something puzzling about his words. "What do you mean?"
"Well. You see. You were right to believe that humans grow and become more and more wise. Sadly the opposite is true and they can become terribly foolish. I remember when humans lived in caves like me, and then they invented fire, walls, stone cities, machines to carry water and shape the land. It is easy to be afraid of how quickly humans can grow. I find them... Like one big person, even though they may live short lives--they have children and they impart them with the some of their knowledge and way of life. They have very little at times, but are still able to want to grow. They aren't like some gods who have all this power and see no consistent challenge or need to overcome. I have yet to gauge really how powerful some gods are--though I believe it is silly to believe they are all powerful. Look at you."
The owl sighed. "It appears the staff has blinded you with my 'wisdom'. I once said something like that. Though I never quite believed they would ascend and overthrow my family."
"Well. We don't know for sure, but it would be interesting to see. And to be honest..." The ogre put down the staff infront of him by the owl. "I don't really feel all that wiser wielding the staff."
"Well... It appears it is just another one of my failed endeavors. Maybe if I beg and plead with my father I can return to the heavens and become a goddess of something else. Maybe the goddess of failures."
"Or whining and feeling sorry for yourself." The ogre groaned as he stood up and began to stretch. "But it appears I have grown attached and partial to you Milady. Seeing you upset rather pains this ogre's heart. Perhaps we SHALL travel and see for ourselves the status of this world. If the world is getting unwiser, than that means more foolish travels coming to my forest with their pointy weapons and bothering me."
"What? You don't mean to actually travel now do you?"
"Why not. I have fallen out of touch with the world as of late. As a mortal myself, I find it particularly offensive that the gods seem keen to controlling our fates. Perhaps together we may find that wisdom your family aught to learn."
The owl scoffed... "I remain unconvinced that is a good idea."
"Well. You are bound to staff." The Ogre picked up the staff and tucked it behind behind his ear. "So you go where I go. I look forward to your protection and guidance in my travels. I have little use for the goddess of failures, so if you could continue to be The Goddess of Wisdom--I would appreciate it."
The owl fluttered about and began to follow the Ogre as he left the cave. Perching herself on his head. "I recognize your words are supposed to make me feel better, and I didn't expect such kindness from an ogre. Though I still doubt my own wisdom."
"That is a very wise thing to do--doubting, evaluating, and changing your own wisdom. If you are capable of growing your fuant of wisdom--then I am sure other gods can too."
The owl felt lossed as she examined his words. Seeing it as something she once held firm in her philosophy... Having another person say the words though gave her a much needed bit of hope and relief. "I doubt this will be an easy journey, Ogre."
"Obak is me name, Milady--and... It appears we have encountered our first bit of trial to overcome."
'THAT IS THE OGRE!" screamed a boy. "He wanted to eat me!" It had been the original wielder of the staff.
A mob of armored guards had gathered around the cave entrance with long lances and swords.
"Well. This will be an interesting encounter." Said the Obak.
Please no silly silly prompts. I very very srs prsn. Nothing super explicit please.
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I seem to always be on the top of the controversial posts.
This was a fun read, though on the last line you had a bit of a typo it seems, "opened to see her a skull"
No dang ol' darnit. She done opened up her eyes and seen her self a skull real spooky like.
The odin circuit began come alive. The drawn runes on the dirty cellar stones began to illuminate in the gentle hues of a soft blue. The little girls fingers continued to trace along, each symbol drawn making the room brighter and brighter.
A young girl with silvery blonde hair and simple dress turned around on her knees, encircling herself in the symbols. Happily humming along.
There was a whirring, and clicking beneath the stones and the girl sat down and watched as the cobbles began to shift and rotate around her and begin to fall away into a blue abyss that was like a ocean of illuminating blue and glowing stars of cyan.
Her deep blue eyes filled with wonder and awe as they widened and she leaned over her little island of stones.
A face, clad in armor and metal bands of ornate design appeared, forming from the light below the girl. "Good tidings to you. It is good to see you again, young warrior. Come with more tales of glorious battle?" He said.
The little girl laughed, something about the way he spoke was funny to her. She shook her head. "No. My older brother hasn't sent me any letters."
"Ah. Well I wish him and his "Division" great fortune in their battles to come. May he return with his shield or upon it."
The girl laughed again. "I told you, he doesn't have a shield. He has a Panzerkampfwagen."
The face smiled back. "Well. What do you wish of me, young maiden?"
The little girl removed an article from around her neck. A piece of ruin engraved metal with runes attached to a necklace. "My papa wants to know more about you, and what all his scrimbles in his book mean."
"Well, you were a clever one to figure out how the activation method. Why don't you explain it to him?"
The girl puzzled and shrugged. "It is hard."
The face nodded. "Perhaps if you continued your research you will have a chance to develop your ideas and how to better explain it to him. There are still many more circuits you have yet to try."
Swirls below the girl began to move, and runes began to be displayed. Her eyes widened and studied the symbols as they emit bright light and imprinted themselves upon her mind.
Her fingers traced through the air above her, and trails of lights followed her finger as she produced the symbols from memory.
"For glory in battle, may you use it to strike down your foes well."
"Heh. I will show Brunhilde to make me eat dirt." The girl reached out and she could feel something in her grip. It felt heavy, and she could feel a charge of power coursing through her arm. Thunder began to crackle as she pulled the grip of the weapon...
The lights flicked on, "Hanna? Are you playing in the cellar again." Said a man. He descended the stairs in his officer's uniform. "What are you doing? You're getting dirt on your dress--come come. Your mother has made dinner."
The man came down to the stairs and picked up the young girl. "What is this?" He said looking at her arm. A red thunderbolt rune marked the skin on he wrist. "Have you cut yourself again playing? Was the Brunehilde girl playing too rough once again?"
"It is okay, I was just talking with Odi." She gripped the male as he carried up her the stairs.
"Tsk. Honestly. Girls your age shouldn't have imaginary friends."
A paradise lost, a deep sadness for what could have been, a magic this world shall never know again.
Arcs of lightning blasted the sanctum. Erupting from the center was laughter of a young girl, and thousands of streaming colors spilling forth from a pedestal that was engulfed in light.
The dull grey of her eyes was becoming luminescent with the colors of arcane whites as she stared down into the power she tried to contain in her hands.
In an instant the girl's laughter and marveling at her own creation stopped.
A dark tear of reality emerged before her and a hammer thundered against the pedestal. The blast threw her against the shelves, shards pelting her skin and she fell.
She struggled to her hands and knees, trying to see what had happened.
The tear remained, and a voice grumbled from within. "No. This power will not be yours. Not a mortals. Not now. Not ever."
She was at a loss. Her mind began to search for words and answers... She clenched her fist and rose to her feat--flingly her arms to her side "No!?" she shouted. "Do you even comprehend the power I have created?"
She stepped forward to the voice, and she could feel the force resisting her--as if it was demanding her to fall once again. Still, she pressed on.
The voice roared again. "You will not have the power beyond what has been given to you. We deny you. Now and forever."
Her hands raised and began to twist, forming hectagrams and sigils of crimson red. "No--I've come to far. I will never have a chance to achieve this again--to make a new realm of magics yet to be conceivable!"
There came a blast in her vision she could see her arms as they became wrapped in pain. The skin of her hands
was turning to dust, her flesh separating from itself and her bones turning to broken shards.
She screamed and fell to one knee, still trying to stand against the force that demanded she fall.
"You have strayed for from what we will permit. None shall know what lies in this realm you seek. Not now, not ever."
Blood began to drip from the ends of limbs, where her arms once where. Through gritted teeth, she cursed the voice.
The room quieted, and she was alone in the dark. Her dull grey eyes began to stare at the stones as she fell forward. She felt numb, after coming so close to achieving her dream and then having it denied. For a moment though--a brief spark of white illuminated in her eyes.
This is incredible! Wasn’t expecting it to be this pleasantly dark.
also HOW DID YOU WRITE THIS WELL THIS FAST
I just tried to write it out as fast as I could. I felt inspired because the trope makes me want do something similar.
People quickly shuffled into their dwellings, and away from the town square.
The shattered remnants of a statue of a young girl lay on the cobbles.
"Believe me," Said an old man to another. "She's alive."
The other shook his head and muttered. "It isn't right."
Their trembling hands clutched the other's shoulder. "If it was my daughter... I would have done the same."
"But the King--he... We best get inside before dark. That poor tender girl..."
The coffin creaked, in The Tomb of Kings. Like a mist, a creature rose as the casket opened. Child-like. Silvery hair, and pale skin--with expose bone and flesh where a right cheek use to be. A sickly green air wafted out from the exposed wound in her chest. Her body was slight, and she moved breathlessly from the coffin and through the tomb.
Books were strewn about, a doll that was dubbed the princesses' favorite sat untouched on the cold stone of the tomb.
She moved like a wraith to the book shelf, and just as she perused the contents--she turned. Through the walls, she could sense something with quality she lacked, life.
Her eyes went back to the shelf, and she drew a book and studied its pages. The arcane symbols, stirring on the page as her eyes traced over the shapes and lines that crossed over and intersected one another in a manner that only meant something to the well initiated.
Now the perception of life was enhanced by the sound of footsteps, two... No--three approached the shut stone door before the chamber.
The grind of stone echoed, and two figures entered. A man and a woman, clad in armor, with weapons that bore holy symbols.
They stood frozen in place as their eyes fell upon the young girl.
The girl made no effort to hide herself. "I mean no quarrel to you, travelers. I only wish--"
"Foul creature of darkness," Said the woman. "Resign yourself to oblivion."
The girl lowered her eyes to the stone floor. Skulls and bones littered the area. "I did not choose this un-life for myself, but neither did I choose my life prior. I do this life as I did before, and make the best of it. Please, let us show each other compassion this day."
The man spat, "Princess Ancevia was treasure in this world, a creature of purity and kindness. A vile being of undead can niether comprehend nor express the compassion which she shared with her subjects." He raised his sword, and readied himself to charge. "Prepare yourself."
The girl raised her finger--a fingertip of bone just lightly shown, "I comprehend. I comprehend more so than I did before."
The man roared, and took one step into his charge when the young girl uttered a single word.
The clangor of armor echoed out as the man slumped forward.
"That will be the limit of my mercy." She said. "His sense of duty and justice was admirable, but let his death be the fist line in my message. Leave. Me. Alone. You and your other companion are free to go. Tell my father, I will accept my solitude in this tomb if that is what is best for our people--but should they need me, I will be here."
The woman's fears sank away, and she took one step forward and readied her weapon and resolve. "Your father has be executed for his part in your ressurection, and now you shall--"
Before the woman could speak another word, the girl rose her finger again--and the blood in her veins went cold. The girls eyes, were dark and unforgiving. "Kill." The girl would say, and the woman could see herself entering a vast nothingness.
But--the girl lowered her finger. "This saddens me. Even though he delved into despicable means... He only did so for the things he loved. I still do not yet know if all the kindness he had brought into this world is so easily washed away by evils deemed necessary--but I loved him none-the-less. "
There was a wet warmth that ran down the woman's legs, and she babbled--not hearing a word of the young girl's since her finger was pointed. All bravery and duties were abandoned, as her weapon clanged against the floor and she ran.
The young girl's gaze trailed to the far shadows, and the third person left in continued silence.
The young girl huffed, and turned back to the book shelf--continuing where she left off... But her eyes didn't trail further. She stared at a single spot between two books.
She turned to the slumped over body of the man, and with a flurry of her fingers she spoke. "Raise Dead."
The man shambled, at the mental call to stand. A pressure was exuded over him, and then released.
"Tell me," Said the girl. "Who is king now that my father has died."
The man searched for words, and his memories just prior his death. When he did not speak immedietly, he felt an invisible hand on his throat that made him speak. "Your Uncle, Anchest."
Her eyelids lowered, "He is a foul and despicable man... In life, what did you think of him?"
"I..." The man wanted to scream as the realization donned on him. Instead, he was forced to speak. "He is the most vile man I have ever served, he has done things that..."
The control waned, and he clutched at his skull--screaming and wishing to awaken from the nightmare of his existence. "What have you done to me!?"
"I am sorry." She said, and raised her finger once again. "I will end it if you wish--but I wish to state my intent. I will take my leave of this tomb, I was mistaken in believing my isolation was for the greater good. Anchest is far unworthy of the crown. I can imagine the horror already that he has brought as ruler..."
The man's heart ached, and thoughts like knives stabbed through him. Kill her. Stop her. Remember your duty. But... There was something inside of him that him that could not unrecognize her words as kind. She was a kind girl once, and he himself had cheered and celebrated her name... But that girl was dead. The creature that was before him was not her... Right?
"I..." he said. He wanted to know, he had to know. Was she the same person? Is he? "Wait... I..."
The girl lowered her finger. "I understand. I am sorry I have done this to you. I had to know." She said. Then her hands balled into fists, and her tone changed suddenly. "Take me to my uncle."
A world where gods are just mages who collected so much magic that it affects the world after they die. The magic can be harnessed and collected in shrines created to honor the gods. As far as you know you are the only one to have discovered this and you have been able to slowly collect and use some of this god magic. You've noticed some activity near some evil shrines (necromancy, raising demons, or something equally sinister.) An unknown group is planning something big and you have to deal with it alone. Or maybe you can get a team together? Something along those lines.
"Akir protect us." Said a woman in drab clothes.
She like many others looked to the sky, and could see violet storm clouds had begun gather around the spire at the peak of a mountain. Few villagers stopped to see, most panicked and quickly went into their hovels to bar the windows and doors and prayed.
People pushed through the streets, carts, and crates were knocked over and the cries of women and children only further painted the image of doom.
"It is the end of days." Said another man that fell to his knees. "Ankev has been angered."
One among the crowd stood calmy though, A slight figure covered with a crimson hooded cloak in which eyes that were like silver coins peered up and studied the air.
Invisible lines of magic swirled through sky--light blue in color, gathered up from the saturated veins of mana across the land below the mountain.
The silver eyed figure pushed onward with impetuous steps, getting pushed around by the masses of frightened villagers.
The violet clouds began to thunder, in simultaneous strikes the the land became battered with lightning that roared unnaturally through the sky and echoed down the mountain.
Escaping the mass of the pushing villagers, the cloaked figure began to run the road to the spire--but the thundering stopped and all was still for a moment.
The magic that flowed through the air into the spire became stagnant. The cloaked figure, removed her hood and a youthful girl looked out with her eyes wide.
There was a flash, the girl shielded her eyes. The light stung, and blinded. There was a boom of that deafened. She could only sense a dull ring in her ears, and blinding white. Then she could feel a gust of wind pushing her back, stones and debris pelting her skin.
Her head struck the stone road, and she could see a dark sky above as the white began to fade. The dull ring stopped, and the sounds of people screaming began again.
Wisps of black begun to fill the air around the girl.
She looked around, and struggled to her feet to see the black permeating the land.
Where the spire on the mountain once was, there was now only a crater that breathed out dark magic.
Like serpents, the wisps gathered around her--but looked her over her and to the village they went.
Adding more, later...?
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Hrm. I think a vague statement like a color can inspire something. It is simple, and yet provocative.
Red lips, red roses, and red--the color coming from her veins. Thorns dug into her hand, wrapping gently around her wrist. Her hand held a blade was as black as her raven hair. She gripped the hilt tighter as the thorns spread out from the pommel and began to dig deeper.
The woman stood in field of roses, her dress tattered.
Something circled her, crushing the roses and brambles. It's skin was grey but blotched with a sickly pale, and its size was ten times of the woman, but with limbs thin and spidery with razor sharp claws for finger.
As the thorns trailed up her arm and began to bind her chest, she centered herself, breathing out. She charged forward--
The blade sung through the hair, and droplets of blood hit a pair of roses.
The blade had been stopped in place by the creatures claw, the thorns of the blade biting deeper into the woman and letting her blood drip.
The creature's mouth spread wide in a grin. "The vampire blade--the vampire blade." Said an excited and grating voice. "The lady wielder, and the vampire blade. It takes a monster such as I to appreciate the beauty of the vampire blade."
The woman said nothing, but pushed harder.
"I shall be taking it." Said the creature. "Its power is wasted on you--woman."
Another claw came--the razor edge spelling death for the careless.
The blade slid from claw to the other--and before the creature could strike again--the spew of blood came from the creature's wrist as the blade swung back.
There was a terrible howl, and the creature leaped back before it could be struck again.
There was a cry as the woman pressed the attack, and the blade swung forward in a flurry. Her own blood showering the field, her breaths becoming labored as the sword's thorns began to wrap around her her neck. Every motion panged with the bite of the thorns.
The creature stepped back, avoiding strike after strike--then the creature stood firmly and swung its arms back simultaneously--poised to bear down upon the woman and cut her in two with no method to guard.
The claws came, whistling through the air. The razor edges cut, and her raven colored hair had an inch taken off as she ducked.
The creature's eyes widened, as she lowered further and spun around in a rising motion--building up speed and thrusting deep into the creature's throat.
Red. The creature saw its own blood begin to splatter and cover the girl.
The thorns that were cutting into her cheek began to receede--climbing down her chest, arm, hand , and up the blade--beggining to enter the open wound in the creature throat--spreading through the creature's insides.
Their was a pain fueled scream as the creature felt the thorns spreading throughout its limbs and tearing its muscles from within.
The woman yanked the blade back--pulling the thorns back into the pommel. There torrent of blood spilled out in the field of roses.
The woman let out a breath, and the satiated thorns receded into the pommel. She stored the blade, looked to her tattered dress and hands that were stained red.
Rain gathered and buildings crashed, dust billowed and a gust of wind carried it through the city--two figures stood apart beneath the cloudy grey city skyline.
The caped man stumbled, and fell back--reaching toward the dull sky.
A young woman--possibly a teen--stepped closer to him, the look of utter satisfaction spread across her perfect perfect lips and glistening marble skin. She smiled, and two long and pointy fangs were bore. "It is
like over," She said. "This is like, totally no longer your city."
The man's eyes lost their spirit, and he could hardly move. Drops of rain hit his forehead. He just stared up at the sky--and he saw hope. "I don't think so." He said, and the drops rain began to lessen.
The teen approached him and leaned over. "You've lost, just like--accept it."
"I can't accept a world where people like you think you can rule." He scoffed, and a little but of blood dribbled out from the side of his mouth. "I can barely life a finger, but for your sake, I think I'll manage this..."
The man began to weakly raise his hand, and pointed his finger to the sky.
The girl looked up, and through the clouds a beam of light peered through and illuminated the young teen's face. She looked down after taking in the ray--"So?" she said.
The man's eyes widened, "But I thought sunlight was you--" His mouth was grabbed and she begun to lift him from the ground with her perfectly manicured hands. Her luscious and utterly voluminous hair glistened perfectly in the light.
In the moment he was being lifted--the man realized something was near--a piece of a wooden chair leg that was broken in a way to give it a point. The man didn't question his luck--and grabbed it. With all his strength he shoved it deep into the girl's heart.
Like wings of blood--spraying out from her back, splattering into the air and ground with a raging force. She smiled, "That won't work on me anymore." She said, tossing the man, his divine luck and efforts aside with a hand wave--he collided into a pile of rubble. "I am like, so much stronger than you think. I am the hero this world needs, just move aside old man."
"No." He said.
"Rude." she said. "Like, whatever. I'll let you be ungrateful. It is a new era."
"No." He said. "You think everyone will fall for you and be alright with you, don't you? Because you think you are perfect all the time."
"I am just your average teen-hero-vampire." She said, and flicked her hair. "And you are so old news. I've beat you, you lost. Give up."
The man couldn't move anymore--he could feel the rebar sticking through his side. "I'll admit I've lost. I'm pretty weak compared to a lot of people, and I know that. But I always try my best and to do what is right. Here is a thing you might have never heard before in your perfect fantasy life--it is okay to lose. It happens."
"You don't need to say anymore, I've heard enough of old people thinking they like know anything." She said, and turned her back on him. "I've kicked your butt, and I've won today."
He closed his eyes. "You think you've won today... Heh. Think like that if you want. I'm not giving up."
"Fight me, go ahead. I'll beat you down every time you come at me."
"Plot twist," He said with a smile realizing something-- he clutched his side and stemming the flow of blood that was beginning to form a thick puddle around him. "I'm not going to fight you like you want. I see now you're just a kid. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will make you see how the adult world really is."
"Shut up." She said.
"You can't hide in your perfect little world forever. You'll grow up one--"
"Shut up!" She was as quick as the fastest superhero out there--maybe faster. "Shut up!" She was right upon the man--raising her hand up and bringing it down upon his chest. Blood splattered, and bones crunched beneath her blow.
Blood soaked her hand, and she breathed out. "I'm the hero. There is no place in the world for you, old--..."
Something moved, and the girl spotted a small crowd of people hiding among the destroyed havoc of the city. They looked on with horror at what she had done.
She looked down at the man, limp and lifeless. "Old man... I'm the hero."
There was a child in the crowd, and tears began to well in their eyes, dropping a doll of caped man.
She stood tall, and she could see the crowd cower and gasp at her movement. Looking at her bloodied hand. "I'm the hero... Right?"
Not enough grim stuff in top posts.
The baby keeps crying. Maybe you should give it back to its parents.
"Sewn together, wrapped and bound tightly with yarn and twine. Hush-hush-hush this little baby of mine."
A woman clutched something bundled tightly up in a blanket, and kept it hidden.
"Hush--hush!" She said, and she peered up and down the street after dark.
She limped across the street, and kept the bundle close to her chest. "The road is clear. The road is clear. Hush little baby, home is near."
Through an alleyway the woman walked to a stack of cardboard boxes stuck together, and covered with a tarp.
She crawled through the litter, and was just about to enter when a bright light shined behind her.
"Ma'am--are you alright." Said a man.
The woman gripped the blanket even tighter. "Hush!" She said to it, and turned her head to look over her should. "Yes--yes--I am fine. Talk softly--or you'll wake the baby."
"Ma'am--Do you need some help?"
The woman squinted, and could see two men in officer blues approaching.
"I am fine. Leave me and my baby alone."
A woman spoke, "Are you sure?" said the female officer, and she approached. "There are places for women with children. We can take you there."
The other officer spoke into his radio... "Possible fifty-one-fifty. Midtown."
"Leave me and my baby alone." Hissed the woman.
The light was pointed downward, and the female officer kept approaching. "Ma'am. Please, come with us. This is no place for a child. Can you tell me if you are on any medication? Could you possibly have forgotten your meds?"
The female officer was within arms reach...
The woman screeched "Don't take my baby away from me--" She clawed away at the female officer. "Not again! I won't let you!"
"M-ma-ma'am--stop--it is okay. We are here to help" The female officer grabbed the woman's arm and stopped her own face from getting mauled.
In that moment--the bundle of blankets the homeless woman was carrying was let loose, and there was a sickening splorch as something hid the pavement.
The three gasped--and the light shined on the spot.
"Oh god." Said the man as he saw the lump of flesh--twine wrapping slabs of meat and bone together. Human teeth and eyes were embedded on a lump of off colored meat and stretched skin.
"Hush-hush-hush." Said the woman, and picked up the motionless and silent meat-baby.
OK that is really fucked up.
It is based on a real story.
Once upon a time, there lived a King and Queen who ruled over their land with fairness. All was not well though--as the Queen would frequently fall ill. After many years, a child had been conceived--and eight months later the Queen fell into a deep sleep that she could not be woken from. Her life, and the life of her unborn child was fading. The King in desperation, sent all his knights in search of a cure. They traveled all the roads of their kingdom and beyond. When finally--a man had come. He was not a knight, but the court huntsman... A vial of dark blood was pressed against the queens lips, and she opened her eyes. The Queen said she felt cold, and that she knew she was soon to leave this world--but their child might still live. She screamed, and the castle was filled with wailing through the night and day. When the wailing finally stopped--the Queen was dead. The handmaid came to the king, and wrapped in a bundle of bloody blankets was a baby as pale as snow. The King had thought she was born still--until the girl's eyes that were rose red... "Snow White." The King named her.
Years passed, and the King doted upon his daughter--but when not doting his time was spent in despair. His health began to fail, and so did the health of his kingdom. For the sake of his kingdom--her remarried. A beautiful woman, but she was as stoic as marble and vain as goddess. She would constantly complain at the dwindling number of servants--and their easily frightened and secretive nature. As the king aged--the kingdom became less and less his. Then one day many years later, the King had disappeared and the Queen didn't question why.
The Queen's eyes then fell to Snow White, who had always been a quiet and dreary girl. The girl's rose red eyes making giving her an eeriness that surpassed what little beauty she had. The Queen never seeing her as a threat--let her live in the castle, to one day be married off for a political gain...
"Mirror, mirror on the wall." Said the Queen. "Who is the fairest within my kingdom?" Her lips curled in a smile, the question was merely a curiosity. She closed her eyes and waited with a feign of politeness and innocence.
The mirror, an artifact given to her by a Djinni from Agrabah, could display see through any other mirror or reflective surface in the kingdom. "Snow White After all, is fairest of them all."
The queen scoffed and thought the Mirror misunderstood. "I meant beautiful, not pale as paste you silly..." The Queen's words trailed as she peaked in on the scene displayed within the mirror.
Snow White's room was dark, but a candle by the bed was lit. A serving girl writhed in the bed--with Snow White nowhere to be seen. "Please, no more." Said the girl. Like she was gripping a phantom, the serving girl resisted.
The Queen watched, and soon the serving girl fell limp. The Queen gripped her own neck, as begun to see the blood that begun staining the serving girl's collar. Though she could not see the phantom--she begun to feel the presence of something watching her. The image of two red eyes peered back at her. The Queen felt frozen, like something gripped her heart. "Mirror mirror, show me no more." She said through a gasp. In her chamber, the Queen called out. "Gaurds--Gaurds! Bring me the court Huntsman!"
Bare foot prints, Through the snow he tracked her, No one knew the forest of gnarled and barren trees as well as The Huntsman. He recalled the many years ago, when the land was rich and the the woods were filled with boar and deer. The King would hunt with him, and the two were inseparable. Now, he hunted a monster of his creation. For too many years he turned a blind eye to the signs...
He trekked through, and the tracks in the snows begun to become fresher and fresher--then he saw her. Lying beneath a tree. He aimed his crossbow, a wooden bolt at the ready. Just as he was ready to shoot her through the heart, her eyes met his. The trigger was as stiff as stone. Tears began to flow down his cheek. He could see his best friend in his daughter.
He let go of the crossbow and came to the girl. "Run," He said. "You will be hunted as long as people witness you. Run deep into the woods, and into the mountains. Never return here."
She stared at him with her rose red eyes.
"Go!" He said, pulling her to her feet. She was off.
His throat felt tight. He couldn't correct his mistake.
In the corner of his eye--a doe appeared. The creatures fur was as white the snow and it's eyes were pink. In the middle of the forest--the huntsman gutted the doe and removed its heart--driving a stake through the heart--he gave it to the Queen.
Greedy cackled. "It is mine. They are all mine." The creature who skins was as dark as coal clutched the diamonds and rubies he had hauled from the mine.
To the abandoned cabin the Goblins, walked through the snow. Cruel led the way in silence--a bloody pickaxe leaving drips in the snow.
Vile scoffed. "They are ours. It was all of us who split the skulls of those miners."
Brainless nodded and kept nodding. "Nothing Gobbies like more than shinies--du-huh."
Wretched spoke up, "If you attempt to keep all the shinies to yourself, I will crack your skull in like a baby's." He said.
Disgusting laughed, and Dirty scratched himself.
The group came to the cabin--Cruel stopped them and raised the pickaxe. "I smell something inside." He said.
Brainless' eyes went wide, and he looked at the others for answers.
Wretched, "If it is a human--let's kill it quickly and eat it. I hope it is a girl--they are the tastiest."
Vile was first to step forward and go to open the door, but Cruel stopped him.
"It doesn't smell right." Said Cruel.
Vile scoffed and pushed by, opening the door. The wind blew and opened the door outward, the group of goblins shuffled in. They peered around the darkness--their eyes adjusting to the dark quickly.
In the corner of the hovel--by the seven tattered pieces of cloth--a young girl peered back at them with her red eyes.
They were all still--the wind blew and slammed shut the door. Vile shrieked and charged forward--but he felt his pulse stop. The girl bared her teeth at him, and he could feel her cold gaze penetrating deep enough within him to freeze him in his place. He begun to shake and step back. "She-She--she's a..."
The goblins trailed through the spring grass, their pace was quick and deliberate--with a sack of gold freshly taken from a merchant on the road. To the cabin in the woods they went. They could a hear a beautiful song filling the air, and see the birds and other forest critters traveling the same way as the did.
As they approached the cabin, the song stopped suddenly--and the creatures begun to scatter and dash out the cottage. In the shadows beneath the doorway, Snow White cradled a deer--blood on her hands and blood on the beast's neck.
The Goblins kept their head lowered as they entered, and placed the sack of gold in the corner of the room with the other riches. They were amassing quite the hoard--but it wasn't theirs. *
Vile was anxious, and but he waited patiently for Snow to finish and relinquish the deer for the goblins to eat...
She sat cradling the deer, looking out into the daylight. "Did you know," she said--turning her head over her shoulder. "I use to be a Princess."
Snow White had rarely spoken to the Goblins, and they were unsure of how to respond.
"One day..." She said, but trailed off. "We will need more money. Go into the village tonight, and find the largest manor. Steal as much as you can."
The goblins, all nodded.
The Queen looked into her mirror. "Mirror, Mirror. On the wall. Show me who plagues my land."
"A goblin troupe they be, but their leader, I can not see..." Images of goblins flashed.
"I shall have the guards double their posting in the town..." The Queen said wearily. She fell upon her bed and tried to sleep--yet her nights had become restless. The memory of Snow White's gaze haunted her, and the many years of being in the castle without knowing such a dark secret--made her feel an uneasiness.
In the morning--The Queen sat upon her throne and listened to the tragedy of last night... A nobleman's youngest daughter had been taken by the goblins. The entire kingdom had begun to fret over the goblin's, and other creatures of the night that had been plaguing their land. Their were even whispers of such a creature residing within the castle--but the Queen hid the truth.
"Bring me the Huntsman," She said. "I shall take my personal guard with me--and we will have these creatures killed at once."
The Queen hid herself beneath a shawl. In the guise of an travelers, the guards and the queen went. The Huntsman not far ahead of them.
"He isn't what he use to be." Said one of the guards to the Queen. "He would've hunted down these goblins weeks ago in his prime."
"Perhaps it is time to seek a new court huntsman then..." Said the Queen. "How much longer?" she called out, "It will be dark soon."
CONTINUED ON IN REPLY http://goedhartvoordieren.nl/?page=r/WritingPrompts/comments/7wl7uk/wp_snow_white_is_actually_a_vampire/du1hs2f/
Beneath a pale moonlight, "The cabin." Said the Huntsman, "We shall split up and we will go quickly, they can smell us coming--and they can see better through this darkness. Their arms and armor will be meager--but still keep close to the guards and stay here, my Queen."
The Huntsman led half of the men forward, and they charged with their weapons drawn into the cabin.
The sound of fighting rang up--and soon the sound of screams.
The Queen and her men outside craned their heads to get a better look.
Bursting through the door, the Huntsman ran into the night.
The Queen, began to quiver. "Lets go." She said quickly, and she begun to flee with her remaining men.
They ran through the forest as fast as they could, looking back through the darkness behind them to see if they were being followed. The paused for a moment, and tried to catch their breath.
Then a voice came through the dark. "Leave the Queen." It said.
They could hear footsteps all around them, and see the goblins peering out from the behind the trees.
A sack of gold, was thrown at their feet.
"Leave her, you can be rich, and your lives will be spared."
The Queen looked around, and she soon witness the sack of gold and men guarding her go missing. In the back of her mind... She begun to realize she recognized the voice. Stepping beneath out of the shadows, and into a beam of moonlight, in tattered clothes was Snow White.
"Hunt them down," She said. "Leave me and the Queen be."
"You are supposed to be dead." Is what the Queen wanted to say, but no words could leave her mouth. She screamed instead, and began to run. She ran through the forest, wanting it all to have been a dream... She stumbled over a tree branch and she could feel the grips of Snow White--a pain in her neck as fangs sunk deep. She clawed away at the girl's face, and screamed louder and louder. "I'm sorry." She said, but the world began to become spin. She looked up, and she could see she was beneath an apple tree... Her arms went limp, and the Queen almost resigned herself to death... But she felt something--a fallen branch.
She gripped onto life as firmly as she gripped onto the branch--driving through the breast of the creature. A horrible howl came from Snow White as the branch broke and splitted into her chest--piercing her heart.
The Queen ran, looking back only once at the creature that was motionless beneath the apple tree.
Dawn was soon to come... The Goblins gathered around the body of Snow White. A solemn look across all their faces.
Brainless spoke first. "She iddn't dead, id she?"
They were silent...
Vile grabbed her, "Quickly, get her to the Cabin before sunrise."
The Prince huffed and trotted along through the forest. "Titus," Said he to his horse. "I hope this old bag of a Queen is at least somewhat beautiful. Soon she will be all wrinkly, and by then I hope I can turn this sorry kingdom around to be at least rich enough to attract prettier and younger woman.
Alone and in disguise, the prince went on. "What is this?" He said, noticing a cottage decorated with roses. He looked to the setting sun. "Might aswell see if any one is home, and rest here. In the morning, I can woo that crone. Perhaps--a bueatiful maiden awaits me." He scoffed.
"Is any one there?" He called out, as he approached the cabin.
There was no response, so the Prince entered. To his surprise, the Cabin was decorated in a not so shabby manner--placed in the center of the room was a finely varnished casket, covered in Roses that were placed there recently.
"Oh. How depressing." The prince thought better of sleeping here, and turned around... But... Curiosity got the better of him. He approached the coffin, and peered inside.
His eyes widened, at the unusual beauty of the girl. Who he thought could have been mistaken for just sleeping...
He looked over she shoulder, and then to the girls lips. He smiled, and leaned in. "Farewell, fair bueaty. Ashame I couldn't have met you while you were still living." He gave the girl a kiss, and stayed pressed against her cold lips... Then his hand trailed and felt something poking out of her chest. He puzzled, and recoiled back. Realizing--it was a piece of a wood that had pierced through her chest. He grimaced, at such a terrible fate--but rather morbidly he pulled the piece of wood from her chest and tossed it aside.
"Well, goodbye fair princess." He said, but one more time his eyes were drawn to her lips, and so was his kiss. He froze--two red eyes staring at him.
The goblins heard screams--and Vile and Cruel charged forward through the forest to the cabin.
"Some one found her!" Said Dirty. "Quickly! We have to..." His words trailed off, as the sun began to set--and from beneath the doorway Snow White stood licking her fingers of blood.
The goblins let out sounds of wonder and amazement.
"My lady--" Said Cruel.
"We has a present!" Said Brainless, and he raised in his arms a severed head--the stupid expression of the Queen presented to Snow White. "We snuck into da castle and killed her!"
"For you," Said Greedy. "For you, we killed her for you."
Snow White trailed through the roses, and put a hand on Dirty, and Vile. She smiled--and withe her immortal life, she lived happily ever after.
Off-Topic Discussion: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.
I like this. I imagine a light story. I'll try to make something from this prompt.
Lieutenant Alin pulled hard, he could hear the rattle and strain of his plane as he begun to break above the clouds. There was the blood rushing from his head, all the muscles in his legs abdomen were clenched--he shouted into his cockpit and continued to climb--blacking out meant death.
A voice over the radio, "Apple Flight is en route to assist, Butter. ETA 15 minutes."
Lieutenant Alin didn't need to hear or be able to see the other pilots to know their dread. He knew fifteen minutes was too much to ask of the others. As he leveled out above the clouds and to the north horizon. "Finger Formation." He spoke into his headset.
He could see the sunrise on his right, and the Atlantic ocean below.
On his wings, Two And Three were assumed their position in formation. Alin looked forward and then back to his right, the sunrise on the east making him need to double check "Where is four? Shepiro, Respond."
Alin looked around, and so did Canterbree and Wells.
The radio crackled. "I don't see him." Said Wells.
"Maybe he pulled up to hard." Said Canterbree. "Shepiro, please respond."
They all held their breath.
"I'm sorry." Said a wavering voice. "Keep going to the rendezvous without me. I'll--I'll-- keep it off of you as long as I can."
Lieutenant Alin felt Shepiro's words like a punch in the gut, and he grit his teeth. "Negative! Shepiro! Negative! I repeat, assume finger formation!" He said. "We are not leaving you!"
There was no response as the rest of Butter Flight continued north.
Alin looked left, and right. Shepiro had not assumed his position.
"I see it. It is on my tail." Said Shepiro. "I'll lead it bearing one-eighty the best I can. Make it home, boys. "
Alin could feel his grip loosening.
"When you return to base--Please send those letter to my mom." Said Shepiro.
Alin could feel the tears begin to roll down his face.
"You can lose it." Said Wells. "If any one can--you can. Send those letters yourself."
Alin looked to his wingmen, and he knew they were feeling the same thing as him.
"It was a pleasure, boys." Said Shepiro.
Alin closed his eyes and tried to keep his mind on flying straight to the rendezvous with Alpha, the thing he knew was the rational tactical decision. He grit his teeth.
"Trail Formation." Said Alin.
"Sir?" Said Canterbree.
"I repeat, trail formation. Follow my tail."
"Understood." Said Wells and Canterbree as they aligned themselves in a line behind their Flight leader who abruptly turned bearing ninety, heading east.
"Shepiro." Said Alin. "Adjust heading to 270. The Destroyer Alamo is moving to assist."
"Understood." Said Shepiro.
Canterbree and Wells were confused, because they knew the Alamo was no where near close enough to assist.
Alin continued heading east above the clouds, the rising sun making it difficult to fly. "Changing heading, 270." He said and veered around, heading west. "Change heading, Four. We are coming to intercept. Perform J-turn now and continue on bearing ninety."
"You-you can't!" Said Shepiro.
"We aren't leaving you. Perform the maneuver." Said Alin, and lead the descent through the clouds. Far ahead they could see it. "Align yourself upon Attitude North-fourty-six point two-three and climb to 30000."
The creature was massive, it chased after Shapiro with ease--following him as the plane tilted up and barrel rolled mid turn further gaining on the small craft.
The entire flight hit 30000 and maintained their altitude.
"Hold fire." Said Alin. "Fly straight, Shepiro." Alin lined up the shot, on the oncoming creature. If his aim erred he would hit Shepiro.
The distance between them all was closing. One mile. Half a mile. Then a quarter of a mile away--"Shepiro, bank away!"
The man did as ordered, and for a brief moment the creature followed--but then it spotted the other planes that were hidden by the glare of the sun.
"Firing!" Said Alin, unloading his guns in the direction of the creature--the trail of bullets flying through the air and hitting the creature--but it wasn't enough. The large caliber bullets were breaking upon impact and shattering in a show of light. "Fire Two!" He shouted, and he rolled and descended.
After their leader broke the trail formation, Canterbree continued the barrage the heavy plating of the creatures scales being chipped away by the hail of bullets, and when his guns were empty--he begun to follow after Alin. "Fire, Three!"
The creature less than 300 yards--its maw opening and a flicker of flames were ready to be fired at Wells.
Wells, as soon as his comrade was out of formation, fired--his bullets hitting the mark where the others had weakened the scales. Spatters of blood burst from the creature as the bullets tore through and the creature craned its head and wavered in its flight path.
"Assume Finger formation." Said Alin, as he level out heading North. He looked to his left. Two had taken position, and to his right where Three had taken his place. Alin looked again to look behind Three, and could see Four taking the correct spot. "Lets finish this. Follow my lead, Butter."
The Flight turned bearing one-twenty, the creature flying lower and eastward.
Alin checked his ammo counter to ensure had reloaded properly. "Fire." He said.
The angel spread her wings, and the corner of the room was filled with the spanning display. She looked down upon her charge, a young girl slumped over in her newly tattered clothes and stained sheets.
The young girl huffed and her hands shook, reaching for the syringe on the stand.
The lights flickered and the Angel's eyes narrowed. She stepped forward and ran her fingers through the girl's hair, sitting beside her while the girl struggled to steady the needle.
"This time." Said the angel, whispering. "It will kill you."
Somewhere the words were recognized in the girl's mind, and she hesitated.
The angel words tinted by ire. "You aren't the only one that has suffered. You only dig the pit of your despair deeper."
The girl shook, and her grip tightened on the needle.
The angel clung to her charge, wrapping her tightly around with a grip that was not comforting. In the girl's ear, she whispered a defiant heresy. "You are not deserving of me."
Tears rolled down the girl's face and she shuddered, then she gasped.
A hand of the angel was tightening around the neck of the girl. "Don't go any further." She said, but it was too late. "Don't go any further." She said again.
The girl fell back, and the empty syringe fell onto the floor.
For a moment, the girl's glassy eyes looked up and they could see the angel's sharp gaze staring with fury. She could feel her hands being clasped and the world fading.
It was dark, and it was cold. She could feel something leaving her body, and pain in her chest was growing. It grew, and she tried to grasp but felt no relief from the pain. She gasped again, and her hands trying to come to throat--but she was restrained by a heavenly grip. She tried to cry out. "Please." to the presence she had felt following her for years.
Lips touched hers, and she could feel the pain vanish. Breath entered her. Still, the world was dark and she couldn't move. Just as the pain came back, another breath of air filled her lungs.
Her eyes opened, and the light of the new day hit her. She clutched herself, and felt cold and alone.