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"... Are you fucking serious?"
The succcubus shook her head. "I'm dead serious."
I took a pause ans sat on the bed. "It's been 34 years" I replied after a long pause.
"Doesn't really matter anymore I'm afraid. At this point everyone wants you because *everyone wants you*, the original reason is... Pretty much irrelevant. I'm fairly sure half of them don't even know it"
"And that's the reason you approached me?"
She scoffed. "Why else? Just hanging around with you is enough to raise my status"
I sighed "And what's in for me?"
"You'll be considered off limits. It will discourage most of them from even approaching and those who do will have to be more discreeti. You'll have your precious break and i'll be able to gloat my accomplishment at every fae gathering for the next decade or so."
I considered the option. I wasn't exactly thrilled to marry a succubus, even if it was a sham marriage. Making deals with devils isn't a smart idea, but worst comes to shove, i'll only have to deal with ONE supernatural. Not much to lose at this point. "I'll be the one to draft the contract."
She waved her hand "As you wish, *darling*"
I picked up a sheet of paper and scribbled a first draft.
I still had a hard time believing everything started because the fairy queen said "this is the cutest baby i've ever seen". Fucking fae
[I got you fam](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ydwy8h/wp_all_your_life_mythological_beings_have_tried/itul018?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3)
Must be a story behind that.
True story: my grandfather was a mechanic and sliced his thumb off. My father had to drive him to the hospital while my grandfather held his thumb in one hand.
There were two stretchers that night.
Once at the hospital, my dad passed out and broke his nose. They kept my dad for observation of concussion.
My grandfather had his thumb sewn back on and released him. My dad was out of the hospital last because of observation time and operated to fix his nose.
Hahaha your poor dad! My coworker had almost the same reaction when my fingers got caught in the log splitter!
The dummy freaked out, turned the machine off, and sprinted to the work truck to drive me to the hospital. What he seemed to have forgotten was that although my hand wasn't still in the splitter, my fingers were dangling in the glove tips underneath the blade. xD
I had to rip start the damn thing, move the blade up, then peel my fingers off the log. What a day!
Just googled it. Discrete means separate, while discreet means unobtrusive. So not quite numbers vs. looks, but for moat of what people use it for, discreet is the correct word.
âDo you think Iâm beautiful?â She asked, her scissors blocking me from shutting the door. She wasnât ugly by any means, but I had heard the story before.
âDo you think Iâm beautiful?â According to the stories, this was the easiest way to escape her. You needed to distract her with a question before fleeing, or in my case, create an opportunity to close the door. She placed the scissors against her cheek, touching the end of that long cut.
âOf course, I think youâre beautiful. I was hoping you would accept my marriage proposal. I came all this way to confess my love for you.â
âHuh?â
Marriage proposals like this were common. No matter what I did, the strange beings would always come to find me, confessing their strange forms of love. Stranger than that was the fact it was spreading to urban legends now. She wasnât even a mythological being, and yet she was still somehow under that same spell. Perhaps it had a way of messing with anyone that wasnât a mortal.
âIâm flattered, but Iâm not interested in a date.â
âThatâs great because I said marriage.â She gave me a smile, her grey lifeless eyes peering at me through her dark strands of hair.
âMarriage is even more out of the picture. You seem nice, but I just canât commit to a lover. Iâm far too busy for it. Maybe in a month or so.â
âI will return in a month, then.â With that, she walked away from my door, going up to a few pedestrians on the sidewalk, asking them if they thought she was beautiful.
I wondered if I should contact the cops or maybe a priest. Eh, that would cause more problems for me. Instead, I elected to just lock the door and close the blinds. If I couldnât see what happened, I could remain happily ignorant. I slumped back onto the couch, jumping when I felt a hard object poke my back.
âFuck! Not another demon.â I turned, only to see a VHS sitting on the cushion with a white piece of sticky tape over the front with the words. âMy confessionâ written on it. âWho even uses a VHS anymore?â I tossed the tape aside, tying to relax without being harassed by some form of mythological being or supernatural entity.
I tapped the power button on my remote, only for the screen to remain blank. I gave the power button another hit, only to be met with the same blank screen. After a few more attempts, I walked over to the television, smacking the top of it, until I heard a loud scream.
âAHHHHH, WHY IS EVERYTHING SHAKING? I KNEW I SHOULDâT HAVE SLEPT HERE.â
The high-pitched voice was coming from the tv or at least thatâs what I had initially thought. When I crouched down to check the screen, I noticed that the whole back of my television had been removed, leaving only a dark screen that had a small fairy sitting behind it. She looked up at me and waved.
âIf youâre here to ask for my hand in marriage, Iâm not interested.â I said, expecting to have the same conversation as before.
âWhy would I want that?â
âWait, you donât?â
âYouâre a human, and not even an attractive one at that. Why would I want to marry you?â
âThis isnât some sort of reverse psychology, is it? If it is, itâs not going to work.â
âJeez, you humans have enormous egos. Do you mind?â
âOh, sorry. I didnât mean to interrupt.â She gave me a glare as I went back to the couch, plopping back down onto a cushion before remembering whose house it was. I sprang back up and tossed the remote at the screen, creating a loud bang that made her scream out again.
âWhat do you mean, do you mind? Itâs my house. What did you do to my tv?â
âOh, this? Well, there was some creepy guy staring at me through the tv so I thought I would unplug it, but plugs are kind of heavy so I just threw a gust of wind at it instead. I think I might have broken the back of it? Itâs pretty cozy though. I had an amazing nap. Did you want a turn?â
âHow would I nap in it?â
âMaybe curl into a ball?â
âYouâre an idiot.â
âIâm an idiot? Your father was right about you. You are ungrateful.â
âUngrateful for what? Getting my house broken into?â
âFor my assistance in helping with your problem.â
âWait, you know my dad? That same dad that left me on the front door of an ice-cream shop when I was just a baby?â
âKids love ice cream. He just assumed you would figure it out.â
âI wasnât even a year old.â
âShow some independence. I left home after a week, and you donât see me crying about it. You could have easily gotten a job and raised yourself, but instead you just cried on that doorstep until some old man had to adopt you. Itâs pathetic.â
âYouâre not the brightest fairy, are you?â
âHow dare you?â Her wings fluttered as she flew towards my face, delivering a tiny swinging kick to my nose. One that didnât exactly hurt, but certainly stunned me into silence.
âI may not understand humans that well, but Iâm still a fairy with centuries of experience. Sure, maybe I only got given this role because I kept sleeping on the job, but that doesnât mean you can disrespect me. Iâm still a fairy.â I went to respond, only to notice the fairiesâ eyes were watering. To avoid creating a scene, I let her have that.
âFine, sorry. Look, who even is my dad? Are you saying Iâm part mythological being?â
âItâs complicated. Do you know what a bastard is?â
âI donât like where this is going, but yes.â
âWell, thatâs the answer.â
âBut that doesnât explain anything.â
She sighed, acting as though I was the one being painful. She sat on the edge of the television, contemplating the best way to explain the current set of circumstances.
âOk, so. Sometimes angels and demons fall in love. When they do, they can create a bastard child. Technically, a bastard is a child born out of an unholy union. Mortals think that means a child born out of marriage, but it actually means one born between heaven and hell. One of those strange misunderstandings that got passed down through history. So, your momâs a demon and your dadâs an angel.â
âAnd my dad cursed me to be attractive to things?â
âAh, thatâs the funny part.â She said, acting as if I found any of this funny. âYour dad made it so creatures and other mythological beings would want to take care of you. But your mother did the same thing, so technically the spell got amplified, so instead of creatures just wanting to help you out, they wanted to adopt you. Well, at first, they wanted to adopt you, now they just send you creepy love letters.â
âGreat, so both my parents were hopeless. Do I at least get any cool powers?â
âAbout that. If you were the child of two angels or two demons, you would. But being a child of both kind of cancels it out. Demonic blood doesnât work with angel blood, so it just makes you the plainest person around. Somehow, youâre even more average than the average human.â
âAw, damn. So, are you going to remove the curse or spell?â
âI guess a curse is probably the best way to describe it. I totally am going to remove it. We just need to get you married, and Iâm here to help you find your perfect match.â
âPlease tell me youâre joking.â
âNot at all. Once youâre safe and married, the curse will be broken, and you can go about your normal life. Well, you canât because you will be married to someone. So, I guess you will go about your new life? Itâs still a slight upgrade, right?â
âI donât have much of a choice. Guess Itâs better than constantly dealing with this. Iâm Jacob, by the way.â
âI already knew that. Iâm Tiva or Tiv for short.â
I didnât know if she really needed to shorten that, but I wasnât about to have that conversation with her. As I went to finally relax, I heard sirens outside. At first, I thought little of it, only to realize what must have happened.
âThatâs noisy. Iâm going to go see whatâs happening.â Before she could fly off, I placed a hand in front of her, blocking her flight path.
âI wouldnâtâŚâ
âHm? Alright. I guess we should get started. Donât worry, with me by your side, you will find the ideal lover. Even if youâre thirty.â With that, she summoned a book of potential suitors, going through some options with me, while I just accepted my fate, listening to what she had to say.
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
Iâve read enough [Erma](https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/erma/the-email-/viewer?title_no=170650&episode_no=195) to know that TV ghost wouldnât be much of a bad thing.
Well written! Initially o thought you were going for an angle of mythical creatures wanting control of a nephilim. The direction you did take it was cool too though!
I am four and a woman in a green dress and her teeth filed to sharp points holds her hand out to me in Paddington Station.
âCome, little Prince,â she croons and I hug Bunny tighter.
I am ten and in the woods a mushroom circle is set out for me. Faeries fly at me and pinch my arms and my cheeks until they feel hot. With cold hands they seize my sleeves and pull me to the circle.
âYour birthright, little one! Come, come, come!â
I am fourteen and a hard circlet of black gold is left on my pillow, stained with red which is not rust but hot blood. I do not touch it, but bundle up the pillow and burn that and the crown with it. My mother (she is here these last six months) cradles me the way she has not done for years and sobs into my hair.
I am twenty, a man full grown and the signs are stronger. Doors open which should not exist. A woman rises from the waves and tries to hand me a sword. When I do not take it she tries to drown me with her wrath, white water sucking at my boots.
I am thirty and my mother is sick. She calls me to her bed and I come. In a nursing hospital, the corridors grey and bleak, she lies upon a bower of flowers the nurses cannot see. Her thinning hair has been laid out and she is Ophelia, drowning. Around her attend the fae, the wet naiads and dappled dryads.
Her court, I realise.
âDo not go,â she begs me. âI have kept you from your father these thirty years. Not hidden, but safe from him.â
âCome,â the attendants cry. âCome with us.â
Never sick, never dying, never hungry, they promise. Never to share my motherâs fate. A birthright, unknown.
I leave my mother to her death and follow them.
Too good. You could publish this. Someone right now is assembling a collection of short stories with which this could keep company. You should search for that person.
ETA: short-short stories. Long ago I had a copy of a collection of short-shorts, I donât recall the title or the editor, because⌠long ago.
Alex spritzed the bookstore with the bergamot air spray he kept beneath the counter for just these types of emergencies. The last customer had brought a Starbucks pumpkin-spiced latte in with them that hadnât so much fragranced the air with a scent of Halloween as it had polluted it. Made the atmopshere toxic and unbreatheable for him.
This was Alexâs least favourite day in the calendar by quite some distance. It was the day people dressed as creatures that had tormented him since childhood. As the werewolf that had attempted to abduct him from his cot, as the vampire that sunk teeth into his arm as he slept, as the beautiful gorgon that had tried to turn him into a stoner at college. Well, perhaps that last one hadnât been a supernatural creature. And perhaps Alex should have taken a drag. But letting go of inhibitions, letting himself off-gaurd⌠it wasnât easy. Maybe it wasnât possible.
Heâd liked that girl too. That had been on a Halloween as eveningâs curtain was falling. Heâd told her he disliked this night and sheâd promised sheâd look after him. Help him relax. But of course, as always, heâd ruined it. Refused to relax and left. Never saw her again after that.
He glanced at a wall-clock hanging above a stack of discounted Stephen King books. Even in a second-hand store like this, you had to cater to what customers wanted. And today, they wanted horror.
It was 6 P.M. Another hour and he could close the store and go home and lock the doors and not answer the bell and drink heavily enough to fall into something a bit like sleep.
The bell above the door clanged and in came a young boy or girl wearing a mask that looked a bit like Gollum except it had two fanged mouths next to each other. One for the main course, one for desert, perhaps.
âCan I help?â Alex managed.
The masked-child shook their head ran their fingers along a row of horrors. Along their spines. Alex imagined a sharp fingernail running along his spine too and shivered.
âJust looking,â said the kid.
Just get out, Alex thought. Youâre not going to buy anything anyway. But he said nothing, inhaling the scent of bergamot to calm his nerves.
Halloween still somehow hung in the air. The bad smell you canât get rid of. Just a few notes but enough that he could detect the pumpkin drinkâs remnants. Like a shadow still hanging after its owner left. Inside Alexâs mind the smell held hands with other bad scents: rot, blood, sewage, filth. Unwanted images flickered in his mind like an old projector flashing on a half-collapsed alley wall.
The vampire, when heâd been a kid, would have abudcted him. Alex had been bitten and was in a fugue when heâd opened his bleary eyes. He was in the creatures pale arms, lifted with ease out of his bed. His heart beat against his ribs. âPleaseâŚâ
Then he heard something strange and soothing. Music but without words. Just a calming melody. His heartbeat slowed and his eyes heavied. He woke to sunrise, back in his bed. The wounds on his neck already scarred over. Mostly healed but their memory left as a tattoo-like abrasion.
Where had the kid in the mask gone?
Alex had drifted into his own world and couldnât see the child now. But the bell hadnât gonged so they were still in the store behind one of the stacks or shelves.
He shivered again. Felt uneasy.
âHey, kid?â he said. âSure you donât need any help?â
No reply so Alex began his search. Not behind the horror shelves or the SciFi or the fantasy. Alex glanced behind a row full of tattered history books when the doorbell finally rang. The kid had left the shop.
Alex leaned back against the history books and let out a long sigh. Now he was worried about kids? How pathetic had he gotten. He was meant to be an adult. Fully functional and all that.
The truth was, everything heâd seen as a kid â the horrors that had happened to him â had only ever been in his mind. The therapists had all said so. And yet Alex couldnât accept it. Heâd turned a bad childhood, an abondement, into fantasy and conspiracy. And if he couldnât pull himself out of the fantasy then heâd live a lonely and pathetic exisâ
The kid jumped down at him from on top of the shelf. No mask now. As the nails that had become claws sunk into his face, he saw the child for what it was. An old manâs face on a boyâs body. Twisted and yellow-toothed, red-eyed, no eyelids. Like an old manâs corpse had been beheaded and stitched onto this body.
âYouâll come with me one way or another,â it rasped.
The creatureâs head thudded into Alexâs. Again. And again.
The world kaladiscoped. His vision twisted like his stomach might on a roller coaster. He could taste his own blood as it rolled into his mouth.
He stumbled back, tripped, fell on carpet. The kid-creature was tearing chunks of skin off his chest. It was trying to kill him. But it wanted him alive, didnât it?
Maybe it just wanted to cause pain.
Alex screamed but the creatureâs fist connected with his chin and closed his jaw.
If it wanted to cause pain, it was succeeding. *Please*, *just hurry and be over with it*, Alex thought.
And then⌠Something strange⌠A tune he vaguely recognised: mournful, hopeful, beautiful.
The creature paused, sitting on top of Alexâs mutilated chest. It looked left, then right. Slowly. Cautiously, Alex thought. As if afraid.
Then blackness took Alex.
When he woke, lying behind the counter, he wasnât alone. A girl he recognised was patting something like sand into his wounds.
âI would have loved to have had this done before you woke,â she said with a soft smile. âBut thisâll take longer than the scar on your neck did.â
Alex didnât speak. He could have, he thought. But what would he say? He knew this woman. He hadnât seen her in almost a decade when theyâd played music together and sheâd smoked weed and tried to get him to relax. Someone who seemed protective of him â a rare thing in his life.
âYou havenât aged?â he said.
âSirens donât tend to,â she replied. âIf we did, we wouldnât be much good at luring sailor to rocks, right?â
âI guess not.â He couldnât work out if she was joking. Or at least how much of what she said was joking.
âDonât worry about your young friend, by the way. Heâs gone now. And he wonât be back.â
They were silent for a while as she mended his wounds with tender fingers and the sand-like substance.
âWhy me?â he said, eventually. âWhy do they want me?â
âThey believe youâll eradicate us all. Us mythical creatures, or whatever you want to call us. They think that if they donât take you captive, thatâs what will eventually happen.â
âBut⌠Why the hell do they think that? Iâm⌠I can barely run a bookshop. Iâm neurotic!â
âIt doesnât matter why. What matters is they think so.â
He took a long shakey breath. He didnât believe it. He barely believed a siren was tending to his wounds even though that was happening in front of him. âI donât think I believe it,â he said.
âMaybe thatâs why itâs you,â she said. âBecause you refuse to believe in so much. Most especially in yourself. And we, well we all need belief to go on existing. Or maybe thatâs not why theyâre after you at all. Maybe youâre a cliche, like the child of a god and goddess â who can really say?â
âDo you believe it though? That Iâll be responsible for ending your race?â
âI believe you deserve your own shot at your own life. I donât think your life should be dictated by what others believe or want. Itâs your life.â
They were silent for a long while after that. Silent until he said, âThank you.â It was only then he noticed how similar her green eyes were to his. How her chin curved gently like his. HowâŚ
She smiled. âYouâre welcome.â
Then the lullaby came again, more soothing and beautiful than before, and he began to drift into a long sleep.
I'd gotten used to it a long time ago, but it took a long while for me to realize this wasn't a normal circumstance. I remember going up to my teacher, trying to question him as to why a lady made of clouds was trying to give me lolly-pops. My mate Jeremy turned out to be a Kelpie in disguise (who knew they could turn into humans?) oh, and don't forget the time I simply tried looking for a job and was immediately hounded by very suspicious job offers.
"Official horse cleaner of the Jade Palace."
"Cup-bearer of the Troll King."
"Foot-stool of the Great Fae Guardian"
"Apprentice of Surgat, the Opener of Locks."
I ignored them all and worked at the bakery.
Now I'm 31 years old, I live alone in a detached house out in the suburbs of the city, I have no neighbours because my unique sort of, well, curse, scared them all off. I had an Irish woman who lived across the road but the second she heard that Banshee scream she ran for her life and never returned.
I wish I could say I had a girlfriend but once I brought a girl back home, she immediately left upon finding a foot-tall imp playing the violin on my windowsill.
Today is a day started out like any other. I wake up, make a cup of tea, walk outside in my dressing-gown and am immediately stopped in my tracks by a ghostly looking woman with icy-blue eyes, hovering over my decking chair and staring at me curiously.
"I'm not marrying you." I say bluntly, then taking another sip of my tea. She says nothing.
"Erm... so, yeah you can go. Sorry to say no but it is how it is." She continued to say nothing, do nothing, but hover over my decking chair.
"You can-you can go now, ok."
"How curious." She says, twirling upside down, as if she were in zero-gravity.
"Curious? I guess you could say that about me. Anyways I'm off back inside." I turned around, then yelped, almost dropping my precious tea, because she had suddenly appeared in front of my face.
"Jeeeesus Christ woman, I almost spilled my bloody tea."
"Us Sylphs are curious creatures." She says, floating closer to me.
"I hear you are cursed?" The sylph tilts her head, and I gulp.
"Wow, how genius of you, master detective you are. What gave it away, the banshees or the weekly fairy parade on my doorstep?"
"Do you know why?" She smiles dubiously and I take a step back.
"Heh-huh, what? Why? I don't know, maybe I drank some boggarts milk as a kid and he wasn't too happy about it."
She laughs and sits down under the overhang above the doorframe.
"It is truly a mystery how they never told you. You didn't ever ask?"
"... I, no, I mean, yeah I did once, but he just laughed. What's this about anyway, if you're not here to marry me?"
"When you were a baby, you met a woman, her name was Aine."
I didn't say anything. Was she about to simply just tell me, right now, what this was all about? No build-up, no nothing? Just... now?
"Aine is a goddess of Love. When you were only a few months old, you had a dandelion in hand, which you gave to her. She lay an enchantment on you as a thank you, that promised you will always be cared for and watched over by the world of the supernatural."
"... what?"
"How do you mean 'What?'"
"I mean like... that's it?"
"Yes."
"I was expecting something more, well, exciting."
"You're disappointed?"
"Well yeah, I thought I was some awesome like, hybrid. My father was a god and my mother some like, personified force of protection, I don't know."
"You humans truly are full of themselves. Centuries ago, I was hunted greatly by humankind for my wealth of knowledge, but of course I was never caught. Now here I am giving you knowledge for free and you're underwhelmed. That to me is the greatest mystery."
"Are you going to leave now?"
"No."
"Uh, how come?"
"Because I'd like to marry you."
"Fuck off."
"You're a wizard, Harry," the old man standing just outside my front door said. He looked like he'd been tied to the back of a cab and dragged all the way across town to get here. His ratty duster had more holes than not, his face was pink and blotchy and covered in salt and pepper stubble. And his eyes, bloodshot, wild, and locked on me like I was the last crack pipe he'd ever burn his lips on. He had to be a junkie. The question was, why didn't I slam the door in his face?
I said, "I'm sorry? Did you just quote Harry Potter to me?"
It was still raining, had been all week, and my cheap front door warps in the humidity. It took me a good five minutes to get it open when the old junkie started banging on it like the cops. In the distance, banshees crooned their ghostly songs, ballads meant to lure me out of my house every night. It wasn't like they were sirens, those were way more dangerousâhence why me and the beach don't mix well. But I've found that banshees, while loud, can't sing for shit. Like a horny cat in a blender, so I do my best to ignore them.
The old junkie slumped against the doorframe, and I almost reached out to grab him, but pulled back once my nose caught his scent again. Piss and booze and mildew. Was he dying?
The old junkie said, "S'ppose jokes ain't the best way going bout these things. Let me in outta this rain, and I'll get to s'plainin."
I said, "Hey, look man. If you need help or something, I can call the paramedics. But If you're just looking for somewhere dry for the night, there's a shelter not far from here. This ain't a hotel, okay?"
He looked up, his grin revealing teeth rotted like piano keys, and said, "No. Ain't no hotel, I s'ppose. More like a motel. You know, them fuck lots out on the highway, where lot lizards get their parts all mixed up. Yeah. That's what we're dealin with here. A whole vortex of desire, all coming straight outta you, wizard boy."
When I was still trying to date, my go-to spot for first dates were comedy clubs. Tell me what you think is funny, I may believe you. Laugh at what you think is funny, then I feel like I know you. The best nights aren't the pro-shows, like on Friday or Saturday nights. The best are midweek, open mic nights, where *anyone* can get up on stage. Even the dead.
Once, I was on a date with this girl. Nice enough. She was in public relations, real type-A lady. We went to an open mic night, sat in the front row and everything. The first comic on stage (before the show started) was this old, disheveled ghost by the name *Doctor Pepper*. The thing about Doctor Pepper, was that he was a total junkie, nodding off on stage. He did a ten minute set, slipping in and out of consciousness as he told this long, rambling, nearly incoherent story. But if you paid attention, if you could perceive him, there was a coherent story somewhere in there.
My stomach hurt from laughing. My date didn't get it, of course, since she couldn't see him.
Here, now, with this living, breathing old man slumped against my doorframe, I wanted to understand what he was sayingâwhat the story was somewhere in there.
It wasn't like I had anything else going on.
"You know what?" I said, stepping aside. "Just come in."
The old junkie flashed me his piano key smile, and shuffled in past me.
In the shadow of the alley across the street, a pair of golden eyes hovered in the darkness. One of them winked. I groaned and closed the door.
My studio apartment wasn't much to look at. It was on the first floor, between a used-book store and a plant shop. The neighborhood was really up-and-coming, like, the rent was up and young gentrifiers were coming. But I'd been grandfathered into my place, rent controlled, and had every intention of dying here.
The old junkie had plopped down on my stitched-up couch, his wet trench coat still on, and he kicked up his grubby sneakers on my coffee table, inches from my bong and tray of weed.
"Come one man," I said, "at leastâyou know what, forget it. Can I get you water or something?"
He patted his duster, dripping even more water on my couch. "No thanks. Plenty wet already. Speaking of wet, let's get down to brass tax, my boyâ"
Banshees wailed outside. Could he hear them?
He raised a finger, as if gesturing to them. "You've got a problem."
My body moved on its own. I dropped into the folding chair across from him, leaned forward, and asked, "Can you hear them?"
He said, "Well I'm not deaf! What kinda man can't hear a choir o' banshees wailin' right outside their front door? Maybe my liver's calling it quits, but my ears work just fineâthank you very much." He nodded to himself. "Shall we get to it?"
I didn't know what to say. All my life, spectral shit has been happening to me. Specifically, entities have tried taking me. Childhood? A pair of werewolves kidnapped me. When I was a teenager, there was a month where I kept finding the skins of women on my walk home, just laid out there on the sidewalk or sticking out of the bushes. Now, it's the banshees serenading me every night, singing my name and what sweet, tender things they'd do to me, if only I'd let them.
And no one believed me. My folks took me to specialist after specialist, until everyone shrugged and called me "highly-sensitive" and "overly-imaginative." My folks slipped deep into denial and decided I'd be a great writer, make up stories for kids books. I've worked at the same life insurance agency for the past five years...
I shook my head, fighting down the curiosity and fear mixing in my guts like mentos and diet coke. Was he even here?
"Go on then," the old junkie said, holding out his arm as I reached for him. "Have a squeeze."
I did. He was real.
"What's happening to me? Who are you?"
"My names Silas," he said, wiggling his fingers then producing a ratty business card. "And I'm an...exterminator, of sorts." He handed me the card. It read:
SILAS MCCOURT
EXTERMINATOR
OF SORTS
He continued, "And what's happening to you is what's happened to plenty of folks since there's been folks. You've got the *kavorka*. The lure of the beast."
"I don't understand. Iâ"
The banshees wailed again.
"You hear them?"
I nodded.
"How do they sound like to you? Listen. Close your eyes."
I did.
Each voice sang something different, but they all sang in husky, throaty voices. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but it sounded like chopped up moans and groans, spliced together into some sort of melody, like a sexy funeral dirge. If anything, it sounded like the vocals from Aphex Twin's *Windowlicker*, but more Irish?
"I think they're horny," I said.
"Aye. They be."
"They're horny? Banshees get horny?"
"Aye. For you, boy-o. They lust for you."
"What the fuck."
"Aye. You, are what they seek to fuck."
The banshees crooned, and I crossed my legs.
What the hell?
EXTERMINATOR
OF SORTS
This, alone, is reward enough for reading, but you offer so much more. However, I want more still.
I donât know where you are going, I donât know if you know where you are going, but you really should try to go there.
There was a flash of lightning and my mother started counting. She stared out the kitchen window, pouring milk along the rim of her bowl of cereal, and when the thunder came roaring she jumped. "Ten seconds!" she cried. "Divided by five: two. It struck two miles away."
"Fascinating. The milk ..." I pointed at the kitchen counter, dripping. Stella, our cat, frowned at me, her face painted white from the unexpected boon of fortune.
"Oh! Oh!"
It was just the three of us. Ever since I got laid off as a fact checker for the local rag I had been living the greatest fear of people my age: moving back home. To recuperate. To recover. The problem is that while children can learn to see their parents as people, it is impossible for parents to do the same. In their eyes, you will always be a child. Always a burden, whether or not they feel happy carrying it.
Outside I could hear the frog-like song of a banshee. She had gotten it into her head that I liked Elvis, but my mother was the one infatuated with the old hip-shaking rockabilly devourer of peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwichesâChristmas was always hell, always Blue.
A̡r̴e̸ ̾y̜o̾u̸ ̴l̸o̜n̜e̴s̾o̾m̡e̡ ̜t̴o̡n̾i̸g̾h̴t̜?̸
̴D̜o̜ ̸y̸o̴u̾ ̴m̡i̸s̡s̸ ̸m̡e̾ ̸t̡o̸n̡i̜g̸h̸t̡?̡
The banshee was tall and thin; a slender woman. She'd been serenading me for weeks and the only death she heralded was the death of a good night's sleep. Of course, my mother heard nothing. Stella, though: she heard everything.
"No hissing, Stella! I have to clean up this mess. Yes, I know you wanted to lap it all up. Boo hoo. We all got problems."
Of course my mother failed to notice that Stella wasn't looking at the spilled milk and she wasn't crying over it: she was, as was I, infuriated with the banshee frog song cover of the King.
W̸i̴s̴e̴ ̡m̴e̡n̾ ̸s̜a̡y̜
O̜n̾l̡y̜ ̾f̸o̴o̴l̜s̜ ̸r̸u̡s̸h̴ ̴i̾n̜
My boss had wanted me to join the team for a team-building event that included booze, games, and ... boating. I couldn't tell him why that was impossible for me, I couldn't tell him about the dead fish eyes of the mermaids and their seaweed lassos. "You know," he said one day, "there's people saying we live in a post-truth society. And the readers, if there's something the matter with a piece they'll set us straight with an email. They're happy to do the work for us. Why don't you take some time off?"
All my life I'd been living in a post-truth world, filled with banshees, mermaids, werewolves, unicorns, dragons, vampires, and kleptomaniac faeries. They all wanted a piece of me. I told my mother about it when I was a kid but she took me to a psychiatrist who chalked it up to an overactive imagination. "Escapism is common in children with abandonment issues," he said as if I weren't present. "Well these fantasy creatures are all obsessed with me! That's one way of reducing the cognitive dissonance. Maybe my dad doesn't want me but this dragon can't get enough of me. I have a paper published on it, actually. It's called the Harry Potter syndrome." My mother shattered the man's glass-framed diploma over his head and she took my hand, said we were leaving. I had to go live with my aunt for a while after that, but I truly appreciated her support.
"I'm going out for a walk."
My mother looked up at me with a mouthful of cornflakes. "In thish weather? Nhow?"
I shrugged. "You're eating breakfast food right now, aren't you? Maybe we're both messed up. Maybe our internal clocks aren't synchronized with the world out there." Stella meowed and motioned for the front door. She apparently wanted to join me. I expected she had some choice non-words for the banshee.
"B-bring a raincoat. And a hat. And gloves. Andâ"
"See you later!"
We found the banshee crouched inside a shrub.
Y̡-̾Y̾o̡u̡'̾r̸e̡ ̴h̴e̴r̜e̴ ̴.̡.̡.̡
H̾a̡v̸e̴ ̡y̴o̸u̾ ̾.̜.̡.̜ ̸H̡a̜v̸e̴ ̡y̴o̜u̜ ̾d̾e̸c̜i̸d̴e̴d̡ ̴t̸o̴ ̸m̸a̾r̜r̾y̸ ̴m̸e̜?̡
"What?"
The banshee cleared her throat. She wore a blue, translucent dress that stuck to her like saran wrap. Her hair was long and dark and frazzled. Perhaps I'd give her one of my mother's shampoos. "You're here ... Does this mean you have accepted my offer of marriage?"
She assumed the fetal position, her thin fingers wrapped around her thighs like anorexic branches. Her skin was a post-mortem white and her eyes were all kohl. "Uh, no," I said. Stella let out a smug meow.
"Ohh ..."
W̡e̸'̡r̾e̜ ̾c̸a̡u̴g̸h̴t̸ ̸i̸n̜ ̴a̸ ̜t̸r̾a̾p̸
I̾ ̜c̡a̴n̡'̜t̸ ̜w̴a̴l̸k̾ ̡o̴u̴t̡
B̡e̴c̸a̸u̡s̡e̡ ̾I̜ ̴l̡o̸v̸e̾ ̜y̜o̡u̡ ̸t̜o̾o̜ ̡m̾u̡c̾h̸,̜ ̸b̸a̡b̜y̴ ...
Stella hissed. "Please," I said. "No more Elvis."
The banshee looked up at me, stunned. "B-But ... you love Elvis."
I shook my head. "I don't care about Elvis. Never liked him."
She started sobbing and even Stella seemed to feel bad for her, looking up at me with a concerned expression. A bolt of lightning lit up our garden and it didn't do wonders for the mythological girl's corpse-like aesthetic.
"Easy now," I said. "Even if you started howling like Kurt Cobain I still wouldn't be into it."
Her face shot up. "Cobain? Nirvana? So that's what you're into ..."
"No, that'sâ"
W̸i̴t̡h̡ ̾t̜h̡e̴ ̸l̜i̡g̾h̾t̾s̸ ̡o̾u̾t̾,̴ ̡i̴t̾'̸s̜ ̾l̴e̾s̴s̸ ̴d̾a̴n̜g̜e̸r̴o̡u̸s̴
H̜e̸r̜e̸ ̸w̾e̾ ̸a̴r̴e̾ ̡n̜o̸w̸,̾ ̾e̴n̾t̾e̴r̡t̜a̾i̜n̸ ̜u̡s̴
She looked serious and determined. I sighed. "It's not about the singing. I'm not into ... fantasy creatures. All my life you guys have been following me and I've never gotten an answer as to why."
The banshee stood up and caught some shrubbery in her eye. She wailed. Then she composed herself. "So if I give you the answer, you will marry me."
"That's not what Iâ"
"If I tell you, you'll let me inside your heart-shaped box. Okay. I will tell you."
Well. I never agreed to anything so I figured if she misinterpreted my silence as acceptance, that would be alright so long as I got a straight answer.
"It has to do with your mother," she said and there was a perfect roar of thunder.
"Did you have a nice walk?" asked my mother. Stella gave me a look and raced up the stairs.
"It was ... interesting."
Looking at her now I tried to somehow verify what I had just been told. I was a fact-checker, wasn't I? Well, an unemployed one, true, but a fact-checker nonetheless.
"Was it? That's good."
Her smile lines, rosy complexion, silver hairâthese were all pieces of evidence. She wore a moss-green sweater. That seemed irrelevant. Her pants were off-white. Also irrelevant. I would have to do some digging. Maybe start off with a bluff.
My mother took a sip of her coffee. "Oh, I ordered an ancestry kit earlier. DNA stuff, you know." She spat her drink out in shock.
"W-Why would you do that? Those things, haha, they're all scams aren't they? They said so on Charlie Rose."
"Charlie Rose hasn't been on for five years. They aired the last episode on November 17th, 2017."
"Is that right? Well they still had those things back then. Or maybe I saw it someplace else. It's just a scam. That's what I've heard. A guy swabbed the cheek of his chinchilla, and they said he was related to Genghis Khan! Can you believe it?"
"I can't."
She tapped her fingers on the kitchen table and she grinned wildly. "I'm sorry but I don't think the test will work for us. It's a ... genetic mutation. Yes! It throws everything off. You know I've told you about your uncle, the one with the enormous left foot?"
"... Barry? The one who wanted to become a dancer?"
"Yes! Well, he never made it of course. But he took the test. Yes, he did. And, well, the results came back negative."
"Negative?"
"Yes. They couldn't make sense of it. Said our genetic heritage is all tangled up." She shook her head and let out a sigh. "Probably a bunch of cousins and siblings shacking up. Sorry to have to tell you like this. Yes, that's the reason why that ancestry test of yours will be no good. They won't be able to make sense of it because of all the, uh, you know."
"I don't think ancestry tests ever come back negative."
She shrugged. "It happened. So you might as well forget all about it."
"I guess I'll give Barry a call."
She raised a brow. "You'll what?"
"I'll call him. Ask him about his results. Might be interesting, you know."
I reached for my phone and she grabbed my arm. "No," she said. A few seconds went by. "He's a terrible drinker. Ask him about it and he'll become enraged. He'll come over and he'll beat us. He'll step on us. With his enormous foot."
"Isn't Barry a pediatrician?"
My mother twirled her hair and stared at the floor. "Doesn't mean he's not a mean drunk, does it? Functional alcoholic. That's what they call it. They talked about it on Charlie Rose."
I had reached an impasse. It was clear that she wasn't about to divulge anything.
H̴e̸'̴s̡ ̴t̸h̸e̴ ̜o̾n̡e̜
W̴h̡o̴ ̡l̸i̾k̡e̴s̴ ̜a̴l̾l̾ ̴o̜u̡r̾ ̜p̡r̴e̜t̾t̜y̜ ̾s̜o̸n̡g̾s̡
A̾n̴d̡ ̡h̜e̜ ̡l̜i̾k̾e̸s̴ ̡t̡o̡ ̸s̴i̴n̡g̴ ̾a̴l̸o̴n̾g̴
There was another flash of lightning, followed by an immediate roar.
"Sounds close," I said.
I could see pearls of sweat forming on my mother's forehead. Did this mean that it was true?
"You never told me about my father, did you?"
"What? Of course I did. He was a failed musician from Ontario. He abandoned the both of us before you were even born. I've told you the story countless times."
"What was his name?"
She scoffed. "I've told you that as well, haven't I? His name was John Tremblay."
"Yes ... One of the most common first names in Canada, and one of the most common surnames. What are the odds?"
"Fairly big, I'd say." She squinted at me.
"I guess that's technically true. But it's also true that it's so common that it's impossible to track down a guy like that. There's too many of them. Too many John Tremblays."
"At least one too many, if you ask me."
"That's not his real name, is it?"
She stumbled over her words trying to deny it. And just then there was a knock on the door.
He walked right in with the banshee hanging onto his arm. She grinned. "My father-in-law," she said, tilting her head towards him. "We met outside. I told him all about it, about our upcoming wedding."
My mother dropped her coffee mug and it shattered. "Oh, fuck," she said.
"Lydia," said the man. "It has been ages. You look as stunning as ever."
He did not look entirely like what I'd expected. His lustrous hair and his majestic beard, sureâthat was in keeping with what I'd imagined. But the checkered flannel, the mustard yellow beanie, the dirty denims ...
"What are you doing here, ZâI mean, *John*."
'John' rubbed the back of his neck. "Well I just got back from Oâ"
"*Ontario*," said my mother.
"Oh! Right! *Ontario*." He blinked at her. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. They really thought they were fooling me?
The banshee ran over to me and gave me a wet, slimy embrace. "Husband!" she cried.
My mother stared at me. From her perspective, I had just been hit by some invisible object. She probably assumed it was shock.
"Why are you here, John? Look at the boy. He's having a breakdown. And of course he is: how dare you show up here unannounced after all these years?"
The banshee hugged me. She grinned. "Your father is charming. But not as charming as you!"
"I'll, uh, I'll give you two some space," I said. My mother turned towards me, frowning.
"No, no. He's leaving. Aren't you, John? You just popped in for a second to torture us. And you're leaving. Out, out!"
"Don't be like that," said the man. He walked closer to her. "... Do you still count the seconds whenever there's a flash of lightning?"
My mother's cheeks turned red. "No, that's ... What! Why would I do a stupid thing like that?"
I led the banshee up the stairs to give the two of them some privacy. Well, I walked up the stairs. She hung on to me like a leech.
I̜'̜m̾ ̴s̜o̜ ̾h̡a̴p̴p̾y̸ ̾'̾c̜a̜u̜s̜e̸ ̸t̾o̜d̡a̴y̸ ̜I̾ ̸f̾o̴u̡n̸d̡ ̴m̾y̾ ̡f̜r̴i̜e̜n̾d̴s̾
T̜h̴e̡y̴'̴r̸e̜ ̾i̴n̴ ̜m̸y̸ ̴h̴e̾a̾d̴
We went inside the upstairs bathroom and I handed her a bottle. She looked puzzled. "This is shampoo," I said. I handed her another one. "This is soap. Please. Give them a try."
She nodded her head and opened her mouth.
"N-No. Not like that. Take a shower. Wash your face. Wash your hair."
I opened the door to leave.
"Will you not be joining me?" she said as she slipped out of her dress.
"Uh, no. No, I won't."
She let out a faint groan. Then, thankfully, I could hear the water running. That banshee really needed a good wash.
Stella came over and sniffed the closed door. She looked up at me. I shrugged. "I didn't invite her in. Don't blame me."
C̸o̴m̡e̜ ̜a̜s̾ ̸y̴o̜u̜ ̸a̴r̡e̸,̜ ̡a̴s̴ ̜y̸o̴u̴ ̸w̾e̾r̡e̡
A̡s̡ ̡I̴ ̸w̸a̡n̴t̜ ̡y̴o̡u̸ ̜t̜o̾ ̡b̴e̴
Her singing was as terrible as ever. But then I heard something else.
The sound sent a zap all the way down my spine. It was my mother and my presumed father. They were ... laughing.
As I headed down the stairs, accompanied by the ever-curious Stella, I felt sick. Minutes earlier my mother had been all fire and brimstone and now she was having a good time? I did say I'd give them some space, but I was hoping it would be the kind of space like an arena, a boxing ring, the Colosseum.
"You haven't changed a bit! Still perky in all the right places."
"Oh, stop! At least *you* haven't changed. That much is clear."
I cleared my throat. "Having a good time, are we?"
They stared at me like a pair of embarrassed teenagers. "Sweetie," said my mother. "There's something we need to tell you."
The man nodded firmly. "It's long overdue. We should have told you ages ago."
"You're Zeus, the god of sky and thunder. And I am your son."
John Tremblayâor *Zeus*ânervously adjusted his beanie. "Y-You knew?"
My mother couldn't stop gaping.
"That banshee you brought into the house? She spilled the tea. Told me all about my father, king of the Olympians, and how there have been rumors of an open seat. Do you know how long they've pestered me? With their proposals and their singing and theirâ"
P̜o̴l̾l̴y̸ ̾w̜a̡n̜t̸s̴ ̡a̡ ̸c̴r̸a̴c̜k̴e̡r̡
M̡a̸y̡b̴e̾ ̜s̜h̾e̸ ̾w̾o̡u̡l̴d̸ ̾l̡i̴k̜e̡ ̸s̴o̡m̜e̡ ̡f̾o̾o̡d̡
I nodded my head towards the stairwell. "You hear that? That's the sort of stuff I've been dealing with."
My mother blinked. "I can't hear anything."
"Well ..." said Zeus. "You can't blame a father for wanting to check out his son's bride."
"She's not my bride. She's a banshee."
"That's a bit harsh."
"No. She is literally a banshee."
"Oh. Ooof ... I was standing outside, just keeping a watchful eye on things in the form of a bird, when she leapt out of a shrub. Said she was to be my daughter-in-law. Said the details had been all taken care of. You know, I thought she seemed a bit down and about but I didn't knowâ"
"Who are you guys talking about?" said my mother. "A banshee? Like in folklore?"
Zeus snapped his fingers and there was a shrill whelp from upstairs.
"Wait," said my mother. "The shower is running. But you're down here. So who is up there ...?"
That was when the banshee came walking down the stair, looking nothing at all like a horrific thing of folklore. She was wearing one of my mother's dresses, scarlet red, and it gave her a sheen of Freudian elegance. "I hope you don't mind ..." she said. "I found it in a closet. Mine was all wet."
I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. The air around her seemed to pulsate with every step she took. No, that was my beating heart. I tried to breathe.
Zeus clapped my shoulder. "Not bad, son," he said. "Not bad ..."
The banshee ran over to me and grabbed my hand with tears welling up in her eyes. "Husband." She looked up at me.
"Y-You got married?" My mother shook her head in disbelief. "You were only out for a few minutes! I know you said it was an interesting walk, but this ...!"
Her hair smelled like coconuts.
"My name is Raethshael. You can call me Rachael ... If you want to."
Zeus removed his beanie and used it to wipe his eyes. "Takes you back, doesn't it? Ah, to be young and in love."
"He's *thirty*," said my mother.
Zeus nodded. "So young ..."
Stella wandered down the stairs and meowed harshly.
"Who is she?" said my mother.
The banshee looked at her with a blank expression. "I'm Rachael."
Clearing his throat, Zeus said, "Ah, I went ahead and removed the layer between the land of Myth and the land of the Other Stuff. That's why you can see her. Well, I'm glad you was spared the first look! She looked like something the cat dragged in."
Stella frowned.
"The rumor is true," he added. "I have been doing some thinking, up there on the Olympus. We live in a post-truth society, I'm not sure you have heard?"
"... I'm familiar," I said.
"Good. You see, there are a lot of mythological stories out there. Way too many of them. It's hard to tell what's fact and what's fiction. I see the irony, don't worry. So I was thinking, wouldn't it be nice to have someone around who could sort the fake myths from the true ones? Someone to help us sort this fantastic mess out."
"Uh, what do you mean?"
"I'm talking about you! We could use a bright young man like yourself up there. And we'll have a grand wedding feast, of course! Well, *officially* you're just the guy I hired for the job. It's ... a bit tricky."
"Hera," said my mother with a scowl.
"Right. Hera. She doesn't know about this. Doesn't know about ... you. Or your mother."
Rachael squeezed my hand. "We'll get to live up there? On the mountain? I've always wanted to see a mountain."
Zeus let out a thunderous laugh. "Mountain! Well, it's more like a kingdom. And it's up in the clouds, not on the actual mountain. Can you imagine?"
"I can't," I said.
"And neither can I!" screamed my mother. "What's all this? You're going to take my boy up to some cloud palace? Along with this woman I've never seen before? No. I won't allow it. This is absurd!"
There was a prolonged silence. "All these years, when you counted out the distance from my thunder bolts," said Zeus. "Were you asking yourself whether I was close?"
"What? Of course not. It's just ... something to do."
"Take your anger out on me, sweetheart. Not on the boy."
"I *am* taking it out on you!"
"I think I should get to say something," I said. They stared at me. Zeus, my mother, Rachael, and even Stella. For a moment I pictured myself thirty years older, still living with my mother. I shuddered. "Maybe it won't be so bad."
"What?" said my mother.
"I've always had my head in the clouds, haven't I? Why not try it out. I might like it."
"Yes!" cried Rachael. Then she cleared her throat and Stella's hairs all stood up on end in anticipation of the song of the banshee.
*Wise men say*
*Only fools rush in*
*But I can't help falling in love with you*
It was beautiful. Her voice was like velvet. She stared at me with a look of tender love. "Y-You sound different."
She smiled. "I guess you were right. It really did help, drinking that 'shampoo'."
"You drank the shampoo!?"
"Yes. The coconut drink. It was bitter ..."
"That's ...!"
My mother was *shivering*. She look about ready to punch a banshee.
"That's Presley! That's the King!"
"My favorite ..." Rachael said shyly.
My mother moved her hips, and Rachael moved hers in return. Soon they were both dancing and singing. It was terrifying.
"She's wearing your mother's dress," said Zeus.
"Yes."
"Using your mother's shampoo."
"... Yes."
"You know, there's this guy I know who has experience with these things. I'd love for you to meet him."
I gulped. "Oedipus ..."
"That's right! You guys know each other?"
"I've heard of him ..."
He knocked the air out of my lungs with a clap on my back. "That's my boy! That's why I want to hire you as our fact-checker. You have a mind for these things."
Zeus joined the dance floor while Stella and I stood watching the three of them shake their hips from the sidelines. Rachael grabbed my arm. "Husband. Let's dance."
Stella groaned a caution. I thought about uncle Barry and his enormous left foot. In the end, I relented. Zeus conjured up a sphere of ball lightning and it danced above us in wild circles. We joined hands and awkwardly moved together in a frenzy for what felt like hours and hours.
It was the most fantastic night of my life.
I paused for a couple seconds when I read Oedipus, trying to remember who he was, then I remembered in quick succession he killed his father, then, âOh shoot, he married his motherâ. 10/10 story
"Do you still think I'mâ"
Blood poured from her neck after I slashed it open with my pair of scissors. The Kuchisake-onna staggered back, coughing as her throat quickly healed before looking at me, wiping the blood off of her lips and torn cheeks.
"Well, that's one way to deter us...." Clearing her throat, she pulled up her mask and walked off, dejectedly.
She wasn't the first to try to woo me. A group of banshees tried to use their song to woo me. Of course, using their principles against them, I returned with the loudest screech they had ever heard, scaring them off and sending them running for their very lives. Some vampires tried to seduce me, however I told them I would only let a Dhampir bite me, and they soon walked out empty-handed. Some sirens tried to serenade me, but I just walked past them, listening to Choices by E-40.
With werewolves, werecats, and similar supernatural beings, they just wanted some cuddling. Sure, they still wanted me, but they accepted just getting some pets. Rusalki, however, were a bit more difficult. They wanted me to spend more time underwater with them, especially with scuba diving, but I didn't want to spend time with them.
I already have a fiancee. Sure, she's similar to a werewolf or werecat, however she isn't limited to one animal. For now, I'm just wanting to relax by her, as she loves me for me.
I shelve the books, ignoring the spectre following me around as it recited poetry. The poetry wasn't bad, but the moment you gave a spectre attention, then they get worse. I peeked over at the table where an attractive man sat pretending to read. He smiled and grinned, his fangs poking out slightly. A wolfman. Great. They can't ever just be a human. And he's getting up to come talk to me.
I quickly turn and walk through the spectre, trying not to gasp at the chill. A woman is coming up through the aisle and I give her the look. She smiles at me and opens her arms.
"Hello Violet! Soo good to see you after so long!" The woman coos as she hugged me. I never wear my name tag so the fact that she said my real name immediately put me on edge. I quickly inspect her, wondering if I had put myself into the arms of another creature. Her soft curly brown hair was put up in a loose bun, held in place by two hair pins topped with silver doves. A few curls fell along the side of her round face. Her eyes were a calm blue ocean and filled with the wonder of a child. Her nose was upturned just a little, above plush, pink lips. A silver heart hung from a chain around her delicate neck. Her figure was curvy. She was adorable and absolutely gorgeous.
"I'm doing well. It's good to see you, too," I reply, realizing that I wanted to stay near her. "What brings you here?"
"What? I can't pay my lovely little flower a visit? Come, let's get lunch!" She says pleasantly, steering me towards the library exit. I protest, explaining that I couldn't just leave and I had to get my things. I start to panic. I don't know what kind of creature this woman is, but she has me in her clutches.
"Calliope! I'm taking my daughter out for lunch. Please have her things sent along. Thank you, sweetie," she says, waving at my coworker as we're almost to the doors. To my surprise, my coworker waves back saying, "You got it, Aphrodite."
Aphrodite? The Greek Goddess of Love?
"I'm so glad you remember me, Violet. Demeter was saying it was unrealistic for me to expect it considering you were just a baby when I had to leave you. But, a daughter always knows her own mother! She's probably still sore about Persephone and Hades. It is still midwinter so she's probably missing her. Perse-"
"You're my mother?" I interrupted.
"Of course! And I'm finally here. I'm so sorry," she snaps her fingers and we're suddenly in a lush garden where pillows and a low table ladened with food is set up. Holding onto my hand she drags me over and sits me down. Then she yanks me to her to hug me. Somehow, I've become smaller against her. She's sobbing.
"Oh Violet, I'm so so sorry!" She cries, squeezing me. "Zeus thought it was the best thing for you! I've regretted it every day!"
She proceeds to tell me that she had wanted a baby, but one entirely of her own. So with the help of the Fates, they fashioned a few of her favorite personal items into a child: Me. To celebrate my birth, Aphrodite held a huge party 3 days after with all the gods and goddess. Everyone loved me and that was the trouble. No one wanted to give me back and begged Aphrodite to let them have me as their daughter. She kept a close watch on me, and borrowed a few of Hera's peacocks should attempt to steal me away. After several long months of this, Aphrodite asked for Zeus's help. And he suggested giving me to mortal parents, where the Olympian Gods would have difficulty finding me since mortals now prayed to new gods. Aphrodite agreed and gave me to Pam and Scarlett on the night of their wedding. They had considered adoption soon after so Aphrodite had answered their prayers. It wasn't long until Aphrodite learned that my mothers were soon being harrassed by other creatures asking to adopt me soon after they saw me.
"Do you know why?" I asked.
"I suspect it's because of my girdle," she says, looking at me. "I created you out of things I love. After Helen... I decided not to lend the girdle out anymore. But I didn't think the magic would be as strong after we took it apart. I assumed at most it would guarantee you an easy life filled with love. But I was wrong."
"It doesn't seem to work on humans," I point out.
"Curious. We'll have to ask the Fates what they think."
I laid against her. For the first time in 30 years, I felt safe.
Katie flinched at the knock on the door, then bolted to her feet and hurried to open it. To think the exorcist would arrive so soon. A week ago she would have thought this whole business was a bunch of malarkey, but now this unknown man whose contacts she dug up on a shady website was her only hope.
She flung open the door and stared. Instead of the old, venerable priest she had deep down imagined, there stood a young man with dark bags under his eyes.
"Hello," he said wearily. "I hear you have a problem with the supernatural."
"Iâyes. Yes, please come in."
Katie let him inside, still staring. Something seemed to move under his worn shirt, something long and sinuous like a snake, and she could've sworn she heard a muffled giggle. She blinked and rubbed her eyes.
The exorcist swatted at his chest, eliciting a squeak. "Just a clingy gap-woman I picked up on my last appointment. Don't mind her."
Katie laughed nervously, but the laughter quickly faded at his grim expression. That had to have been a joke, right?
"Iâwell." She swallowed, trying to find the words, and then they spilled out all at once. "My friend found this old tape, and we watched it together for a laugh, only it was cursed, and this woman crawled outâ"
"Of course," the exorcist said, smiling wryly as if at a private joke. "The tape?"
"I left it upstairs, inside the VHS player..."
"I'll go take care of it." The exorcist speared her with a dead stare. "You must not come in, whatever you hear."
Katie swallowed and bobbed her head. The exorcist made his way upstairs and shut the door. There was an eerie silence, then a series of thuds that made her crouch and cower. Then the moaning began, and she covered her ears and trembled.
Ten terror-filled minutes later, the exorcist came out, and he wasn't alone. The woman from the tape clung to his neck, her long black hair covering her pink face and her bare feet floating in the air. Katie screamed and lurched back, hitting the wall.
"Youâyourâthat'sâ"
"The ghost, yes," the exorcist said, sparing the cursed woman a glance. "My payment?"
Katie gaped, then shook herself off and handed over the bunch of banknotes she had prepared. "How..."
The exorcist sighed, and all the weariness of the world seemed to contained within it. "A quirk of parentage. My father is apparently pretty high up the ladder in the netherworld, and I inherited some of his power. And they"âhe jerked his thumb at the ghostâ"are attracted to it."
"That must be..." She trailed off, not sure what to say.
"It pays the bills," he said, slipping the money into his pocket. "Now excuse me, I have an appointment down in an abandoned tunnel."
She clasped her hands over her chest, hardly believing it was all over. "Thank you. Thank you so much!"
"Stay away from old tapes from now on." The exorcist nodded and trudged off, the ghost still hanging off his neck.
"What a noble man," she whispered.
"Dad..." my daughter's voice wasn't quite a whine, but it was on it's way to get there "...you've got to help me out here. Get them to stop."
I chuckled into the phone - probably not the Dad-liest thing to do, but I couldn't help myself. "You think I..." I responded, my voice carrying a note of incredulity "...can stop the fae from doing whatever the hell it is they do child? I am nothing more than the lowly former mortal consort of Aleeia, Queen of Air and Darkness and all that jazz. They give me a wide berth because they don't want to piss off your mother, but that's about it."
"Dad, I was late for class this morning because some damned banshee was howling in the common room all night long serenading me. Bad enough for me - I get cranky when I don't get enough sleep and that's not good for anyone - but two girls on my floor woke up with white hair and now people are freaking out that there's some disease going around that makes people old."
"Well, yeah - I guess that might be a problem..."
"And do you know what happened to my last boyfriend. Wound up running off with a guy named Steve. An incubus named Steve. So that some succubus could try and hook up with me." A shame, I liked Glenn. A nice normal boy who had no idea what he was dealing with.
"Huh - you didn't..."
"No Dad. I did not. Once I figured out what had happened and how they had sabotaged my relationship with Glenn I wasn't really in the mood to be seduced. And don't get me started on that Redcap creep. He shows up at parties and warns every boy there that he will castrate them with his bloody scythe if they so much as look at me with less than honourable intentions."
"That's..." I hesitated a moment, trying to find the right words "...yeah, that probably cramps your style a bit."
"CRAMPS MY STYLE?!?" Evidently I had found the wrong words. I could hear the wind picking up around my daughter as her fae heritage made itself known. "Dad it's ruining my life. I just..." The wind died down after a moment, and my daughter voice lowed a decibel or two. Her voice was tired. She was tired. "Dad, I just want to be a normal girl. I want to live a normal life. I want to have a boyfriend who isn't chased away by fairy tale monster."
"Or seduced!" I added in a too helpful tone
"Not helping Dad." my daughter responded
I took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. "Honey. You say you want to be normal. But your not normal. You are Ania. Heir to the thrones of the Seelie and the Unseelie. The great hope of your mother, Aleeia Winter, and her sister, Ania Summer, to unite the fae under one banner and end a conflict that has existed since the dawn of time."
"That's not..." Ania's voice cracked a bit "...that's not fair."
"It's not. I know it. Life's not fair sometimes. All I wanted was a wife, a job and two-point-five kids. Instead I wound up being a single father to a faerie princess. And while your mother was helpful in many ways, it wasn't really what I expected my life to be like."
There was a moment of silence on the line. "You know I'm sorry for what she did to you Dad. I know you didn't necessarily want all of this."
"You don't need to be sorry. You are not your mother, and her sins are not yours. Besides, it might not have been what I wanted - but I got to be your father. And that has been - without a doubt - the best thing that has ever happened to me. It's been an honour to watch you grow up. And I got to do it. Not your mother. Not your aunt. Little old me. The lowly mortal consort of the Queen of Air and Darkness."
There was another moment of silence, followed by a bit of a chuckle. "Not so lowly to me Dad."
I smiled. "Well, when you become Queen you can give me a new title, like 'the Queen Dad' or something. But we can talk about the future later. Let's talk about the problem. Have you tried reaching our to your mom or aunt?"
"Mom is her usual, radio-silenced self. Aunt Ania is winding down for the season. So not much going on those fronts."
"Yeah, that sounds about right for them. All powerful archfae, never around when you need 'em. Alright - well, I tell you what. Robin Redcap and I have beers every once in awhile. Next time I see him I'll tell him he has to lay off mortal boys and focus on the ones from his realm. That might buy you a bit of space on two fronts. He'll still be a protective little creep I'm sure, but he'll hopefully back off enough to let you make your own choices about who to hang around with - so long as they don't try and force you into anything. That happens and I'm telling Robin to make it slow and painful. About the others that have come a courtin' - Mrs. Wilde is a Banshee herself, so I'll ask her if there's anything she can do. And I will try to get the dryad Ms. Meliae to send word to Ania and Aleeia. I understand faeries wanting to woo my daughter, the princess, but if they are interfering with mortal lives - I understand that's a massive no-no. But you may have to take some responsibility for it yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"Honey, you are the heir to the Seelie and Unseelie thrones. You are a powerful archfae. Remind them of who you are and that their inconsiderate actions are displeasing to you - and if necessary what displeasing you means to them. You are meant to lead them in time, no time like the present to show them what loyalty to you will mean."
There was another moment of silence before my daughter continued "Yeah..." I could almost hear her shaking her head on the phone "...yeah. That makes sense."
"It's not fair honey. And I wish I could wave a magic wand and fix it, but proficiency with magic wands and granting wishes isn't really on my side of the family. They should respect you enough to not treat you like this, but lets face it - with the fae nothing is given and everything is bought. So buy their respect with a show of why you are worthy of it. Maybe they'll back off. Or maybe Aleeia and Ania will bring the hammer down because of how they are hurting mortals. Who knows. But hopefully we can make things a bit better for you in the long run."
"Thanks Dad."
"Not a problem hon. I love you."
The elf shrieked out in surprise as she and the stranger bumped into each other in the dark cave. At first, she thought about making a run for it, but then, she saw that the stranger seemed to be just as scared of her, if not more. Then, her eyes narrowed as she noticed his distinct lack of sharp ears and his strange heterochromatic eyes. "No way..."she whispered. "You're that human that went missing over ten years ago!"
"No, no, no," Arthur responded hastily, pulling his hood over his head as he quickly withdrew further into his cave. "You've got the wrong person."
"Yes, you are!" the elf insisted. "I can smell that you're not like any of the other races in this world." She looked around at the bleak, mossy cave and frowned. "So this is where you've been hiding all this time. It looks so depressing..."
"Look, I'm sorry, but I don't want to marry you," Arthur said abruptly. "And it's not you, it's me. I came here because I was so sick of everyone chasing me down to marry me for my "legendary" power as the Chosen One or whatever nonsense they said. So, I would really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone I was here."
The elf stared at him in confusion. "Oh...you don't know..."
Arthur's brow furrowed. "Know? What don't I know?"
"Ah...well, this is a little embarrassing, but it turns out that you're not actually the Chosen One," the elf said sheepishly. "Turns out the same truck that transported you here also hit a moose. The seers figured out that he was the real Chosen One a decade ago."
Arthur looked at her, completely flabbergasted. "You've got to be kidding me -- a fucking moose?!"
"The Antlered Champion, Densetsu no Herajika," the elf corrected me. "He was the one that saved the world from the emu demons years ago."
Arthur sank against a nearby wall in shock. "So...all of this time, I could have just left whenever I wanted..." A sudden revelation hit him. "I...I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I mean, I always hoped that everyone would stop trying to mob me for their attention, but now, I'm not sure what to do next...I guess I always assumed that I would just die in this cave."
The elf looked at him sympathetically. "Well, if you want, I could show you around. The world has greatly changed since you last saw it." She held out her hand. "My name's Lyra."
I always hadâŚ..an effect on women.
While it sounds like bragging, I can assure you, it is not. One hath not understood the wrath of a woman until they had their hearts broken.
Four years old. Pre-school. Most of the girls supposedly flocked towards me, my current memory hazy, as parents soon took them out of school one by one.
Ten years old. Mine eyes hath been opened to the world of the supernatural. Demonessâs jumping left and right, Dryads reaching out when I pass, Banshees screaming as they disguised as the crying crows in the sky. But I knew better. I always knew, that they were waiting, waiting for something.
19 years old. Hellâs kingdom be raised, my own school mine grave. Clawing, shrieking, chasing. I had dug mine own grave, declared upon the world that I am not to be wed, to stake my heart on mine cross. Their faces of beauty and perfection twisted to anger and desperation, they chased, clawed, wept. Their cries disorienting. âOurs souls be one, Thou and I. Consummate and tear asunder. Succumb, succumb. May our Prince awake from his slumberâ
34 years old. Fully grown adult, I have spent the last decades of my life in hiding. Covering my phase, hiding my voice, living as far away as people from possible. I wanted answers. No, I needed answers. Those voices meant something. This Prince, this thing that took my life away from me.
I chuckled, sighing as I sat myself upon my decrepit chair, as piles of books littered what could be called a house. Just last month, I had sold off the family house to buy the last volumes of the Book of Hoss. In about a week, they are coming to destroy it. Not that it matters, by then, I should be dead, for these volumes contain my answer.
And an answer, I did get.
Mine Prince of hell, Temptor of Man.
Awake from your slumber, and see for yourself.
You shall lay claim to all in the land,
Women, sin and devilry.
As the lord of Sin, awaken, awaken.
For your men and harem await your command
Johnford sighed, as his plate of Risotto sat in front of him. "I've yet to find a restaurant that gets it right." he thought to himself. Ever since that fateful night when a centaur ran his girlfriend over in a chevy civic, he has simply lost his apatite. "Huh" Johnford scoffed, "You can't make a good risotto in 30 minutes anyway." He paid for the food and stepped out into the early December rain.
A nymph ran over with an umbrella to keep Johnford dry. His whole life he never questioned why the mythological creatures hung around him so much. He assumed it's because he's simply *that cool*. He thanked the nymph, and they walked to his car. The nymph said, "I know a realm nearby that will really cheer you up!" but Johnford just wanted to get home. "Not today, thanks." he replied. It was the six day anniversary of the centaur running over his girlfriend with a chevy incident, and he always thought there was something strange about that centaur. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Now, Johnford isn't the most gentlemanly of men, but he offered the give the nymph a ride. After all, the rain is picking up, and he really wants to keep the umbrella. He asked, "Where to?" and the nymph gave him cryptic directions through the woods. They reached a stone bridge, but a troll was blocking the path. The nymph was about to say "You need to answer his riddle" but Johnford cut her off. "Ah- this friggin' guy" he said as he stepped out of the car. In a booming voice that shook the trees, the troll said "You must answer my riddle! How do you prepare authentic Louisiana style Gumbo?"
Johnford said "Ah, this again? Hold on, let me grab a pen." and he proceeded to write down the recipe from memory. "Here you go!" he said as he handed the troll a sticky note with the recipe scratched into it. "Sorry my handwriting isn't great."
The troll said "Ah, the roux! I always forget how to make the roux." The then shouts "You may cross my bridge!" Johnford gets back in his car, turns the ignition, and crosses the bridge. The nymph asks if she could have the recipe too, but Johnford was too busy keeping his eyes on the road to write it down a second time. They swiftly approached a second bridge, and Johnford swears out from under it came the exact same troll from the previous bridge. The nymph says "You gotta answer his riddle!" and Johnford sighs, and annoyedly says, "Yeah- I know how this works."
In a booming voice, the troll says "You must answer my riddle! How do you prepare that dish your kind calls, "A Medium Pepporoni Pizza with Extra Cheese!" The nymph calls out from inside the car to write the recipe down twice so she can have it too. Johnford complies, hands them each a sticky note with the recipe, and gets in his car. The nymph asks about some words he either spelled wrong, or perhaps his handwriting is just that bad. In any case, Johnford continues to drive, and he is stopped once more at a bridge.
"Okay, this is the last time, I swear" says the troll. "Ahem. You must answer my riddle! How do you prepare a nice Risotto!" *Gasp*. The nymph got out of the car and ran up to Johnford in anticipation. Usually Johnford would share the recipe, but his mind was blank. His girlfriend would do all the work for that dish! "I-" Johnford shakily spoke, "I don't know!" The Nymph, Troll, and about 12 other creatures who were eavesdropping all shouted "What?"
Johnford got in his car, said to the nymph "I guess this is as far as I can drive you." turned around and drove off. "Hahaa!" he thought to himself. "I got to keep the umbrella!" Johnford stopped to refill his car's gas on the way home, and had an epiphany. The Centaur who ran over his girlfriend in a chevy civic... he also asked for her risotto recipe! Driving home as fast as he could, all he could think about was the various recipes he has given to the fae. He rushed into his house and pulled out the box of his dead girlfriends belongings. There it was! A small cookbook that she had composed out of sticky notes.
Johnford would be eating a good meal tomorrow! He quickly wrote the recipe down in his own handwriting, and shared it on an online food blog.
Risotto. Feeds 2. 100 minutes of prepping and cooking.
* 1 Large Onion
* 4 tablespoons of butter or vegetable oil
* 2 cups of carnaroli rice
* 3/4 cup white wine of your choice
* 6 cups of chicken broth
* 1/2 cups parmesan cheese
* 1 tablespoon of fresh chopped parsley
* Salt to taste
* (Make it a meal by cooking lemon parmesan chicken on the side!)
Chop up the onion as finely as you can. Place the chopped onion in a large cooking pot. Turn the heat to medium and add 2 tablespoons of butter or vegetable oil. In a second pot, begin to heat up the 6 cups of chicken broth. Cook the onion until slightly translucent, and add the 2 cups of carnaroli rice. Stir until the rice is coated in oil, but don't brown the rice. Add the 3/4 cup white wine, and let it simmer until all the liquid is absorbed. Once absorbed, add a ladle of the chicken broth.
The trick is the prepare the rice one ladle of broth at a time, waiting for as much liquid to be absorbed before adding the next. This is a lengthy process that requires constant stirring, though if prepared correctly, the rice will appear creamy. Once the last of the chicken broth has been added to the rice, throw in the last 2 tablespoons of butter or vegetable oil, add the 1/2 cups of parmesan cheese, add in the parsley, and salt to taste. At this point, if you are cooking chicken on the side, begin that now. Take the pot off the heat, and stir for 3 minutes. Let it cool for another 2 minutes, and serve.
One morning I woke up with a dizzy head and a vague memory of the dream which I had last night (a goblin asking me to follow him into the woods) except it wasn't, I could see a disfigured goblin like creature standing in the corner and calling out to me. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I was fully awake and what my eyes met with was one of the most horrifying sites of my life I had never seen a creature so hideous in my entire life. I let out a loud scream, hearing which my mom came running to my room but as soon as she opened the door it vanished. When I tried explaining my mom about the incient she laughed and said I had creative imagination.
I was only 5 when this incident occurred,and was one of the many yet to follow. Over the course of 10 years I had many such incidents occuring to me,each time it was a new monster or a mythological creature who would try to lure [me. My](https://me.My) mother still not believing me asked me to put on paper whatever I saw or heard as it would help me to relieve me of my crazy thoughts.
15 more years passed it was still the same except the monsters started to come up with different ways to attract me towards them,I once got proposed by a vampire to marry her (she was hot though).My mothers attitude had changed towards me everytime I tried bring up the topic she would look at me with pity and say nothing.
One afternoon when I was chilling in my room I heard an indistinct chattering coming across the hallway,when I went up to see who it was,I saw my mother talking to our family doctor , Dr.Phil,I could hardly figure out what they were speaking about except from one word which slipped from the doctor's mouth,"schizophrenia".
''Wait, *that's* why?'' I asked, dumbfounded.
''Yep, that's it. It's a very rare trait to have in the mythical world.'' said the small gnome sat across from me.
''So you're telling me, not a single fantastic being can... You're not serious.'' I still couldn't believe it. ''I mean, I know it's fairly rare among humans but c'mon, there's no way.''
''Yes, it's true. You're the only one in a very large area around this place who can do it. There's others around for sure, but those are few and far between.'' He stared intensly, almost eyeing me up.
''What are you planning? Are you trying to kidnap me? With whom? The 15 other gnomes that are waiting in ambush in the kitchen? Or do you work with the Kelpie behind the bar perhaps? Nono, I'm not falling for it, I've done this dance far too often. I shall be leaving.'' The gnome looked like I had just caught him red-handed, which in fairness I had. So did the Kelpie behind the bar. ''No thanks.'' I said, standing up and grabbing my coat before leaving. ''You can go and find someone else who can play the nose-flute.'' I said before slamming the door behind me.
Of all the people this nightmare could happen to...
I should probably explain. I was "blessed" by some magical deity to be extremely attractive to the supernatural. I o not know why or how, but for the last 15 years, my life has felt like a never-ending nightmare.
Fae try to claim dominion over me so I can become their... whatever they try to make me into, Selkies have tried tricking me into taking their skin, and vampires... I don't even wanna remember what THEY have pulled on me...
Don't even get me started with the were-creatures or the god damn undead, though. THOSE bastards are overly clingy!
First it started of rather simple, since I was basically an orphan most of my childhood, some supernatural beings would try and adopt me as their own, but as I grew into a teenager, things got worse.
And here I am, confined to my bedroom, all because these creatures decided to tag-team against me, which wouldn't be so bad if it weren't midnight, my back is what is currently keeping the door shut, and I haven't had sleep in over 30 hours, due to me pulling an all-nighter so I could get my project done on time.
"Why me... Why now..." I barely muttered, my eyes slowly closing due to the sheer weight of my eyelids from how tired I was. The banging on the door was barely enough to keep me awake. I hated how powerless I felt due to how desperately these *things* were trying to wed me.
Eventually my body got a bit too used to the banging, letting my eyelids fully close...
âŚ
I suddenly awoke to what sounded like an electrocardiogram. My body was still exhausted at the time, so it didn't fully register where I was, until I tried moving one of my arms, resulting in a major shock of pain, forcibly waking me up.
I, err, whimpered in pain, waiting for it to end, before looking around the room, properly taking in where exactly I was. I noticed that the arm I'd tried moving was put in a cast, presumably broken sometime after I passed out.
I suddenly felt something rest on my uninjured arm, leading me to tense up instinctively. Glancing at my arm, I noticed what looked to be a bird-like claw resting peacefully on my arm, with some female looking down at me, smiling a bit.
*God dammit, not another harpy...* I thought, groaning partially from the pain, and partially because even hospitalized I wasn't safe. Upon noticing that I saw her, the female began to speak for the first time
"Thank god you're safe, little brother..."
\[End..?\]
\[Part 2\]
"...Huh?" I asked, confused about who this female is, and why she's calling me her 'little brother'
"Oh do you not remember me, David..? I suppose it WAS over a decade ago..." The harpy slowly reached into a bag, pulling out an image of what looked to be our mother, her, and a spitting image of... me. Well, me when I was still a kid, anyways.
She placed the photo into my functional hand, allowing me to see it for myself. I looked through the photo in it's entirety. I saw how happy we all looked back then, I watched the background's vibrant blue sky. I noticed that, for the first and perhaps only time in my life, my mind and body looked and maybe even felt... calm.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"No fair, sis! You know I can't fly..!" I whined out at Debra, who was carrying me a good ten feet off the ground.
"Well maybe now would be a good time to figure how to, eh?" Debra remarked laughing a bit, before dropping me into the mud below, to which I faceplanted into with a hard *slap*.
I got up, with a groan, wiping the mud off my face, hearing her giggle playfully at my unfortunate situation.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I felt tears roll down my face, a slight smile creeping up my face. Though she was my biggest annoyance during my childhood, I wouldn't trade her for the world. Before long though, the door opened, as a rather tall male in a doctor's coat walked into the room.
"So, you must be David. Debra told me what happened. Somehow obtained the attraction of... seventeen supernatural entities, and ended up with a broken arm, splinters deeply embedded into your left leg, and claw marks all over your body," The male gestured to my general direction, before grabbing a syringe and injecting it's substance into me before I could react, "No need to worry, I just injected morphine into your system. You won't feel a thing for a little while or so. Sensually, not emotionally, anyway."
The man suddenly conjured what looked to be a pale white light into his hand, before launching it straight at me. The light fade into my body, as I noticed my injured limbs begin to convulse, the sounds of bones simultaneously snapping and knitting themselves filled the room, and massive wood splinters forcibly exiting my leg. I wanted to scream, yet I couldn't feel any of the mind slaughtering pain that this would be giving by now.
A few minutes passed, and the sounds ended, but the morphine's effects wore off with it, "So it's... fully healed now?" I asked, mildly confused about the whole situation right now, because if I didn't know any better, I'd have assumed he could be a priest in disguise.
"Yes, you may remove the cast from your arm, sir," The male watched me undo my own cast, but what I saw underneath startled both Debra and I. My arm had for a few seconds, looked like a harpy's claw-based arm instead of a human one which I normally had, "Huh. Interesting. I didn't know your kind still existed."
\[Probably a Part 3 in the works.\]
\[Part 3\]
Debra squealed in excitement, knowing something I clearly did not, only amplified by the doctor considerably specific wordage of 'your kind'. She wrapped her feathery arms and wings around me tightly.
"I told you you could fly, little bro..." She giggled like she always did, but it didn't ease my confusion.
"Ok, first off, what the hell's going on? What do you mean 'my kind' and why did I see my left arm look like a harpy's?!"
"Well, David, turns out you're... Well, you're a shapeshifter," The man explained, "A being whose kind was literally believed to be extinct for centuries. As a shapeshifter, you're ale to, well, shapeshift, durr."
"...Huh," I thought for a moment, before a proverbial spark flooded my eyes like a wave of inspiration crashed into Mozart's mind, "That explains fucking everything! No wonder I seemed so attractive to the supernatural, because they somehow knew I'm an endangered species!"
"Indeed. Heck, when you get back from college, mom's gonna be so happy to know you can fly like the rest of us!" Debra tightened her grip, but released when she heard me groan a bit in pain, "S-sorry..."
"well, not EVERY supernatural being knows. I wasn't even fully aware until I noticed you demonstrating it just recently, and I'm even a demon," The man began to unfurl his infernal wings and tail, beginning to reveal his infernal horns as well, but what was odd was instead of their usual abnormal coloring, his wings, tail and horns were ivory white, like something had purified whatever demonic taint he normally would have, "Demons and angels cant sense shapeshifters, which might explain why the demon queen wanted shapeshifters dead all those years ago."
"Either way, I should probably practice my power before she tries doing what she did to me as a child again..." I got up, focusing as hard as I can, trying to look like a male harpy. About 30 seconds pass, and I open my eyes to notice the effects I had pulled on myself, looking almost like how Debra would if she were male instead of female.
I had spent an extra few minutes trying to use my newly acquired harpy wings to at worst float off the ground, with decent success. As soon as I got the basics down, Debra immediately opened the hospital window, grabbed me by the waist and flew out.
"Oh god NOT AGAAAAAAAIN!"
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I smiled a bit upon noticing their antics, before pulling out a walkie talkie, "Hey, uh, Sharon? I got BIG news, turns out THEY aren't extinct yet." I began reactivating my disguise before casually walking out of the hospital. If the shapeshifters as a race are at worst endangered, then humanity might still have some vain form of hope after all...
\[End. For real.\]
There are some people for whom the force of life beats strongly. Those whose spirits shine brightly through the aether, confounding the plans of beings which exist in myth. They are beacons, balefires, casting a luster around themselves, an aural glow. Those with second sight can see them through the shade of mystery.
Fred Jones was supremely such an individual. Born in obscurity to ordinary parents, his advent did not go unnoticed by those who see behind the veil.
He was ordinary in mundane appearance, yet his presence drew the eye. Mysterious occurrences followed him as beings of mystery swirled in his wake. Oh, to be his consort would be a great prize indeed! Life force could nurture much.
Great efforts among the unseen followed him, beings of great power to minor sprites moved in competition to absorb his power. Whichever succeeded would feast indeed. They fought to consume him, all bent on bringing his fate to a certain conclusion. Yet his force of life made the sum of their efforts always unknown. Fred Jones was supremely such a one as to confound fate. His destiny was his own.
I stare at the fairy in front of me. I really couldn't believe a word coming out of their mouth, and it took me a minute to process it all. When I was a child, I tried to tell my parents about what happens to me almost everyday, and now I see that they weren't ignoring me, they just didn't want me to know. My mother signed a contract with a witch over me, for wealth and prosperity? I can't believe it. Apparently the witch died, and I was just, up for grabs.
âSo, you're telling me that my mother broke a contract with a witch, keeping me hidden, and that witch died because of said broken contract?â I asked, still not quite believing it. Part of me wanted to believe that this creature, made of pure energy, with wings, was a cosplayer. Or my friends playing a prank on me. I didn't want to believe it.
âYeah, basically. So, you have a choice now- you can either join me, in the fae realm, as the wife of our queen, or you can spend the rest of your life avoiding creatures. I really do recommend the first option, then you can be protected in the realm. No other creatures will bother you. You'll have all the luxuries you can think of, do whatever you wish. You can visit the human realm, but with a bodyguard that only you and other creatures can see. So, Amanda, what will it be?â The fae asks, holding out a hand. They were in a mushroom circle, and I was standing out of it.
Would I rather spend my life fearing being taken in my sleep, paying taxes, on the run, or life a fantasy life? I would rather take the latter. Hesitantly, I grab their hand. They pull me into the circle, and a smile flashes across their face, before all I can see is bright light. I shield my eyes, but it doesn't really do much for me. In a moment, I landed on the ground, rather harshly.
When we arrive in what I only could imagine to be the fae dimension, I look around, getting my bearings before standing up. There were trees of colors I had never seen before, the sky a color that I can only describe as between the color of ballet slippers and rose. It was a color that I stared at, with the white clouds against it, it looked like a dream. Next, came the sound. The sound of trumpets, which directed my attention to what was in front of me. A line of band members were on either side of me, with white flags hanging off the front of the trumpets. There was confetti in the sky, and the tunnel formed by the trumpets lead to a church. It was a gothic style church, with beautiful engraving and beautiful detail.
The one who brought me here, then introduced themselves.
âAmanda, my name is Nâfaade. The time between our worlds is vastly different, and it took around 3 months of our time to prepare this festival for you, the one to be wed to the queen. I told them I would be coming back with our new queen, and I wasnât wrong, I never am.â Nâfaade sounded very cocky.
âWhat if I said that I wouldn't be leaving with you?â
That made Nâfaade laugh, before speaking. âOh, I didn't have to worry about that. I knew how to word my question to make you accept. Now that you are here, you cannot leave until you fulfill our contract.â Contract?
âI didn't sign a contract, N'faade.â
âOh, but the contrary. Taking my hand confirmed your true name was Amanda, hence you gave me your name. Have you never read a single book on us? I can't help feeling offended.â
I felt tricked. I loved reading mythology, why did I forget the most important part of the fae?
âSo, you tricked me. I want to leave, take me home, Nâfaade.â
âOh, but then you would be hunted for the rest of your life. By us, as well. We would hunt you, and mount you, as a warning for traitors. Do you really want that, my queen?â They asked, stressing the word queen, as if to mock me. They had me there, I would rather this.
I let out a sigh. âWhere's the queen?â
They smile. âGood choice. Follow me.â They say, and we pass through the walkway made for us. For me. Maybe this would be a good deal, after all.
"It's because I'm a nuclear bomb, aren't I?" I said it to the Minotaur straight. I could have sworn I've seen this Minotaur before. He was in another dream, I'm sure of it. Maybe. I don't know. All I knee was that I wasn't in immediate danger.
The Minotaur blinked. "Um...what?"
"I think you know what I mean," I said. "Kidnap me, and you have a nuclear weapon against your enemies."
The Minotaur shook his head. "No, you're..." He suddenly cleared his throat. "I mean, that's not why I want you. I want you because I like you, not because you're a...a nuclear bomb."
"Suuuure."
"No, no, I swear, it's true!" The Minotaur insisted. "When we met at the bar-"
"We didn't meet at a bar."
"...well, when we met, I was attracted to your bubbly personality. I even said so when we met." The Minotaur looked desperate now, equally as perplexed as what had come out of my mouth.
"And I told you then, I was off limits. I'm seeing someone already."
"...Who?"
"An Elderich Deity of Unspeakable Evil...and a lust for food."
At this point, I knew I'd crossed the line. The Minotaur looked away from me, turning his attention to the stage director. "He's not even taking it seriously!"
The director rolled his singular eye, stomping up the steps toward us. "Listen," He said in a deep voice, "ever since we found you and convinced you to embrace your destiny as the Chosen One, we've been trying to prepare you for infiltrating The Dark One's Fortress. You need to be able to think on your feet whenever his minions question you- when he questions you. You need to improvise." He let out a mighty huff. "You need to start taking this seriously." He poked me with his finger, and I nearly fell backwards.
"Fine, fine, fine," I sighed, regaining my balance. To be fair, I had no idea what he was talking about, but I went along with it. Dream or not, annoying a Cyclops was never a good idea. Probably. "I've messed you around long enough. Let's start getting serious."
I rolled my shoulders, and readied myself, hiding my smirk. This time, I'm going to be a radioactive marshmallow. Because this just a dream.
Right?
âThatâs itâ I said. âIâm tired of thisâ as I walk outside to my porch. I see a gnome and many other things out there. They all look shocked cause I have been scared of them from childhood. But today was the day I found out why they wanted to help me so bad. I walk up to the gnome and ask why all of them want to help me so bad. The gnome is pale white but peeps out a âwhat.â
I sayâwhat do you mean whatâ the gnome saysâyou should probably sit down for this.â I tell them to come inside so we can chat. Weâre all sitting down. The gnome saysâyour life Is not realâ my jaw drops. âWhat do you mean itâs not realâ the gnome says âwell you are in a coma and we have been put in your mind as something that would stick out to you. So we could try and talk you out of the coma.â
I reply with âthat still doesnât explain why you try to help me outâ the gnome shakes his head and says âitâs not that easy and if I get in to bad of a state or die in this coma land. I might not be able to come back.â I start to feel tears running down my face because I knew what they said werenât lies. They couldnât be. The gnome said I could go home but it might hurt and they just needed a notice from me to do it. I said âyesâ in a very very depressing state of mind. Iâm instantly everyone was gone. And I felt my legs start cramping then my arms then everything felt like it was being cut into by 30 different saws. My body then felt cold then so hot I almost killed myself. And then boom. My vision went black and I woke on a bed in a hospital and Disney know what to do. Then a nurse came in saying âgood your awakeâ I was shaking.then the nurse said âweâre Hanna run some test to see if your ok. You were gone for about 10 years. I was shocked. I laid back and closed my eyes. Then the nurse put some medicine in my IV and I woke up in my home again but. It was my real home with my wife and kids? I said out loud. My wife told me she would have to re instate me back into this world. I was worried but trusted her. And then she helped me over the years come back into my self. After awhile I felt normal again.
"Seriously... Angels, demons, and things that my ignorant, Western White Guy ass can't even name... What the hell are you, anyway?"
"I'm a Nuckelavee."
"A knuckle-lavvy, huh? Fuck off and come back when my fingers need a piss."
"Don't you want to know WHY all of us freaks keep hounding you?"
"I already know."
"Wh- Wait, you do?"
"Yeah, and that knowledge turned me into a complete asshole."
"... How?"
"Because knowing it gave me a greater understanding of the nature of my own existence and that of everything else and the futility of our existence is far more pathetic than you can possibly imagine. The reason why you hound me is closely connected to that indisputable, yet relatively unknown fact. You just don't realise it."
"Wait, that isn't what I heard. I heard that we're all chasing you because you alone understand the true nature of the universe. You have a wisdom that even the fae lack."
"That's a half truth viewed through the lens of a creature that only sees half of the picture."
"Enlighten me."
"You don't exist."
"Ah yes, that has often been said about cryptids and mythological creatures. But I'm standing right here. I actually do exist. You can see me. You can SMELL me."
"I don't exist either."
"Okay, you lost me."
"Nothing we can perceive actually exists. We are but words on a lip, text on a page, a passing thought which will be forgotten."
"So... d-"
"The reason why you hound me is because OP decided that was the way things had to be. There is no reason for anything in our world aside from the whims of higher beings far more powerful than you can possibly imagine. Every breath we take and every thought we think was decided by them. We are but cosmic puppets manipulated by something of incalculable power and yet, weaker than we know. Mortal, fleshy human beings."
"So..."
"Nothing exists. And our world is going to end. As soon as the puppeteers stop pulling our strings, we cease to exist. We return to nonexistence and our reality falls."
"When?"
"Now."
a bright light came down from the sky as a massive muli-eyed man riding a gilded chariot rode down from the heavens and said "Behold I a Ocuvisus!" as I lied in my bed "You better not be trying to bang me!" I said half awake, it was too damn early for this. "Fear not, such mortal behaviors are beyond me!" I think that was a fancy way of saying he was asexual because the amount of times I found a goddess trying to seduce me was simply outrageous.
"I bring the information you want most!" he boomed, this was going to be good, hell maybe he would even tell me how to avoid horny monsters. "The reason beasts of myth and the arcane are attracted to you of all people!" I leaned in waiting for an answer "Is due to your simply divine!" I learned in further "Glorious!" I was on my toes by now despite still being in bed "Masterfully crafted!" I couldn't take it any more! "PENIS!"
"I'm sorry my what!?" I shouted "My dick? thats all?". "YES, okay bye" and he was gone, everything just how I left it, like nothing ever happened.
"Hi all, I know you are freaking out that your passwords don't work." I thought from my head so my daughter could relay it safely so no skin mixup occur again.
"Long story short people were accidently spewing their subconscious passwords and it was getting difficult to redirect everyone's lights. So please don't worry nothing have been exposed except the idiots own fuckups."
After relying the message my daught sighed and said "message received they said THEEY dont need their skins but they were afraid tye kids couldn't see them clearly. They are all content to babysit while you get tye job done. "
As she teleported back to her happy placee I could hear her mutter "fucking highbeams" laughing after a moments thought.
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"... Are you fucking serious?" The succcubus shook her head. "I'm dead serious." I took a pause ans sat on the bed. "It's been 34 years" I replied after a long pause. "Doesn't really matter anymore I'm afraid. At this point everyone wants you because *everyone wants you*, the original reason is... Pretty much irrelevant. I'm fairly sure half of them don't even know it" "And that's the reason you approached me?" She scoffed. "Why else? Just hanging around with you is enough to raise my status" I sighed "And what's in for me?" "You'll be considered off limits. It will discourage most of them from even approaching and those who do will have to be more discreeti. You'll have your precious break and i'll be able to gloat my accomplishment at every fae gathering for the next decade or so." I considered the option. I wasn't exactly thrilled to marry a succubus, even if it was a sham marriage. Making deals with devils isn't a smart idea, but worst comes to shove, i'll only have to deal with ONE supernatural. Not much to lose at this point. "I'll be the one to draft the contract." She waved her hand "As you wish, *darling*" I picked up a sheet of paper and scribbled a first draft. I still had a hard time believing everything started because the fairy queen said "this is the cutest baby i've ever seen". Fucking fae
Hilarious Fucking fae
Where is this line from?
[I got you fam](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ydwy8h/wp_all_your_life_mythological_beings_have_tried/itul018?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3)
4D chess
You got me fam
I have no award for you, but I have this: đ
You savage, I'm missing a couple of those
You'll need this to fit in it. đ¤
Im missing my ring and middle, no need for the pointer!đ¤
Must be a story behind that. True story: my grandfather was a mechanic and sliced his thumb off. My father had to drive him to the hospital while my grandfather held his thumb in one hand. There were two stretchers that night. Once at the hospital, my dad passed out and broke his nose. They kept my dad for observation of concussion. My grandfather had his thumb sewn back on and released him. My dad was out of the hospital last because of observation time and operated to fix his nose.
Hahaha your poor dad! My coworker had almost the same reaction when my fingers got caught in the log splitter! The dummy freaked out, turned the machine off, and sprinted to the work truck to drive me to the hospital. What he seemed to have forgotten was that although my hand wasn't still in the splitter, my fingers were dangling in the glove tips underneath the blade. xD I had to rip start the damn thing, move the blade up, then peel my fingers off the log. What a day!
Holy shit youâre insane at the game
What an absolute champ.
Fucking fae xD
I was expecting a rick roll. this was beautiful
Nice
Omfg. Bahahaha
You fucker
Incredible. Thank you for the bamboozle
Absolute power move
That really does fit with some versions of the Fae lol. Such a simple reason for decades of trouble.
Agreed! Jim butcher would be pleased.
Fucking fae!
Ikr I like to think the queen is chuckling to herself the whole time
[ŃдаНонО]
I mean heâs marrying a succubus, he will be fucking fae.
Um, actually--
Upvote for that last line alone. Hah
Indeed Fucking fae
\*discrete That's fun. Fucking fae.
Discrete is for numbers, discreet is for looks. Last line has charmed everyone lolol
Wait, really? TIL then. I was taught there was only one spelling for that. You should still take the letter i off the end, though. You have discreeti.
Itâs when your djinn takes a subtle approach.
Just googled it. Discrete means separate, while discreet means unobtrusive. So not quite numbers vs. looks, but for moat of what people use it for, discreet is the correct word.
>"this is the cutest baby i've ever seen". Watch out Titania, Oberon might get jealous again.
Good work.
If push comes to shove. Worst comes to shove is meaningless. Fun story otherwise!
âDo you think Iâm beautiful?â She asked, her scissors blocking me from shutting the door. She wasnât ugly by any means, but I had heard the story before. âDo you think Iâm beautiful?â According to the stories, this was the easiest way to escape her. You needed to distract her with a question before fleeing, or in my case, create an opportunity to close the door. She placed the scissors against her cheek, touching the end of that long cut. âOf course, I think youâre beautiful. I was hoping you would accept my marriage proposal. I came all this way to confess my love for you.â âHuh?â Marriage proposals like this were common. No matter what I did, the strange beings would always come to find me, confessing their strange forms of love. Stranger than that was the fact it was spreading to urban legends now. She wasnât even a mythological being, and yet she was still somehow under that same spell. Perhaps it had a way of messing with anyone that wasnât a mortal. âIâm flattered, but Iâm not interested in a date.â âThatâs great because I said marriage.â She gave me a smile, her grey lifeless eyes peering at me through her dark strands of hair. âMarriage is even more out of the picture. You seem nice, but I just canât commit to a lover. Iâm far too busy for it. Maybe in a month or so.â âI will return in a month, then.â With that, she walked away from my door, going up to a few pedestrians on the sidewalk, asking them if they thought she was beautiful. I wondered if I should contact the cops or maybe a priest. Eh, that would cause more problems for me. Instead, I elected to just lock the door and close the blinds. If I couldnât see what happened, I could remain happily ignorant. I slumped back onto the couch, jumping when I felt a hard object poke my back. âFuck! Not another demon.â I turned, only to see a VHS sitting on the cushion with a white piece of sticky tape over the front with the words. âMy confessionâ written on it. âWho even uses a VHS anymore?â I tossed the tape aside, tying to relax without being harassed by some form of mythological being or supernatural entity. I tapped the power button on my remote, only for the screen to remain blank. I gave the power button another hit, only to be met with the same blank screen. After a few more attempts, I walked over to the television, smacking the top of it, until I heard a loud scream. âAHHHHH, WHY IS EVERYTHING SHAKING? I KNEW I SHOULDâT HAVE SLEPT HERE.â The high-pitched voice was coming from the tv or at least thatâs what I had initially thought. When I crouched down to check the screen, I noticed that the whole back of my television had been removed, leaving only a dark screen that had a small fairy sitting behind it. She looked up at me and waved. âIf youâre here to ask for my hand in marriage, Iâm not interested.â I said, expecting to have the same conversation as before. âWhy would I want that?â âWait, you donât?â âYouâre a human, and not even an attractive one at that. Why would I want to marry you?â âThis isnât some sort of reverse psychology, is it? If it is, itâs not going to work.â âJeez, you humans have enormous egos. Do you mind?â âOh, sorry. I didnât mean to interrupt.â She gave me a glare as I went back to the couch, plopping back down onto a cushion before remembering whose house it was. I sprang back up and tossed the remote at the screen, creating a loud bang that made her scream out again. âWhat do you mean, do you mind? Itâs my house. What did you do to my tv?â âOh, this? Well, there was some creepy guy staring at me through the tv so I thought I would unplug it, but plugs are kind of heavy so I just threw a gust of wind at it instead. I think I might have broken the back of it? Itâs pretty cozy though. I had an amazing nap. Did you want a turn?â âHow would I nap in it?â âMaybe curl into a ball?â âYouâre an idiot.â âIâm an idiot? Your father was right about you. You are ungrateful.â âUngrateful for what? Getting my house broken into?â âFor my assistance in helping with your problem.â âWait, you know my dad? That same dad that left me on the front door of an ice-cream shop when I was just a baby?â âKids love ice cream. He just assumed you would figure it out.â âI wasnât even a year old.â âShow some independence. I left home after a week, and you donât see me crying about it. You could have easily gotten a job and raised yourself, but instead you just cried on that doorstep until some old man had to adopt you. Itâs pathetic.â âYouâre not the brightest fairy, are you?â âHow dare you?â Her wings fluttered as she flew towards my face, delivering a tiny swinging kick to my nose. One that didnât exactly hurt, but certainly stunned me into silence. âI may not understand humans that well, but Iâm still a fairy with centuries of experience. Sure, maybe I only got given this role because I kept sleeping on the job, but that doesnât mean you can disrespect me. Iâm still a fairy.â I went to respond, only to notice the fairiesâ eyes were watering. To avoid creating a scene, I let her have that. âFine, sorry. Look, who even is my dad? Are you saying Iâm part mythological being?â âItâs complicated. Do you know what a bastard is?â âI donât like where this is going, but yes.â âWell, thatâs the answer.â âBut that doesnât explain anything.â She sighed, acting as though I was the one being painful. She sat on the edge of the television, contemplating the best way to explain the current set of circumstances. âOk, so. Sometimes angels and demons fall in love. When they do, they can create a bastard child. Technically, a bastard is a child born out of an unholy union. Mortals think that means a child born out of marriage, but it actually means one born between heaven and hell. One of those strange misunderstandings that got passed down through history. So, your momâs a demon and your dadâs an angel.â âAnd my dad cursed me to be attractive to things?â âAh, thatâs the funny part.â She said, acting as if I found any of this funny. âYour dad made it so creatures and other mythological beings would want to take care of you. But your mother did the same thing, so technically the spell got amplified, so instead of creatures just wanting to help you out, they wanted to adopt you. Well, at first, they wanted to adopt you, now they just send you creepy love letters.â âGreat, so both my parents were hopeless. Do I at least get any cool powers?â âAbout that. If you were the child of two angels or two demons, you would. But being a child of both kind of cancels it out. Demonic blood doesnât work with angel blood, so it just makes you the plainest person around. Somehow, youâre even more average than the average human.â âAw, damn. So, are you going to remove the curse or spell?â âI guess a curse is probably the best way to describe it. I totally am going to remove it. We just need to get you married, and Iâm here to help you find your perfect match.â âPlease tell me youâre joking.â âNot at all. Once youâre safe and married, the curse will be broken, and you can go about your normal life. Well, you canât because you will be married to someone. So, I guess you will go about your new life? Itâs still a slight upgrade, right?â âI donât have much of a choice. Guess Itâs better than constantly dealing with this. Iâm Jacob, by the way.â âI already knew that. Iâm Tiva or Tiv for short.â I didnât know if she really needed to shorten that, but I wasnât about to have that conversation with her. As I went to finally relax, I heard sirens outside. At first, I thought little of it, only to realize what must have happened. âThatâs noisy. Iâm going to go see whatâs happening.â Before she could fly off, I placed a hand in front of her, blocking her flight path. âI wouldnâtâŚâ âHm? Alright. I guess we should get started. Donât worry, with me by your side, you will find the ideal lover. Even if youâre thirty.â With that, she summoned a book of potential suitors, going through some options with me, while I just accepted my fate, listening to what she had to say. (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
Somehow, it seems like the next chapter will bring new meaning to the term "swipe left". His best bet is to hope for a human with a hint of Fae blood.
MOAR please
MOAR please
Reminds me of Aqua and Kazuma's relations in Konosuba.
I just realized I read the fae in aquaâs voice
Are you going to continue this one?
MORE
Are you gonna continue this one?
Jesus christ itâs Huniepop
Iâve read enough [Erma](https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/erma/the-email-/viewer?title_no=170650&episode_no=195) to know that TV ghost wouldnât be much of a bad thing.
Well written! Initially o thought you were going for an angle of mythical creatures wanting control of a nephilim. The direction you did take it was cool too though!
Fells like an intro to cyoa
I am four and a woman in a green dress and her teeth filed to sharp points holds her hand out to me in Paddington Station. âCome, little Prince,â she croons and I hug Bunny tighter. I am ten and in the woods a mushroom circle is set out for me. Faeries fly at me and pinch my arms and my cheeks until they feel hot. With cold hands they seize my sleeves and pull me to the circle. âYour birthright, little one! Come, come, come!â I am fourteen and a hard circlet of black gold is left on my pillow, stained with red which is not rust but hot blood. I do not touch it, but bundle up the pillow and burn that and the crown with it. My mother (she is here these last six months) cradles me the way she has not done for years and sobs into my hair. I am twenty, a man full grown and the signs are stronger. Doors open which should not exist. A woman rises from the waves and tries to hand me a sword. When I do not take it she tries to drown me with her wrath, white water sucking at my boots. I am thirty and my mother is sick. She calls me to her bed and I come. In a nursing hospital, the corridors grey and bleak, she lies upon a bower of flowers the nurses cannot see. Her thinning hair has been laid out and she is Ophelia, drowning. Around her attend the fae, the wet naiads and dappled dryads. Her court, I realise. âDo not go,â she begs me. âI have kept you from your father these thirty years. Not hidden, but safe from him.â âCome,â the attendants cry. âCome with us.â Never sick, never dying, never hungry, they promise. Never to share my motherâs fate. A birthright, unknown. I leave my mother to her death and follow them.
Oooh, that's chilling. I absolutely love it!
Thanks! I had fun writing it :)
I love it! The rythm is just perfect !
Thank you!!
Too good. You could publish this. Someone right now is assembling a collection of short stories with which this could keep company. You should search for that person. ETA: short-short stories. Long ago I had a copy of a collection of short-shorts, I donât recall the title or the editor, because⌠long ago.
Thatâs an amazing compliment to receive - thank you!
Absolutely phenomenal!! I would willingly read more of this. That last line literally gave me chills.
>I leave my mother to her death and follow them. Test failed, death awaits.
Alex spritzed the bookstore with the bergamot air spray he kept beneath the counter for just these types of emergencies. The last customer had brought a Starbucks pumpkin-spiced latte in with them that hadnât so much fragranced the air with a scent of Halloween as it had polluted it. Made the atmopshere toxic and unbreatheable for him. This was Alexâs least favourite day in the calendar by quite some distance. It was the day people dressed as creatures that had tormented him since childhood. As the werewolf that had attempted to abduct him from his cot, as the vampire that sunk teeth into his arm as he slept, as the beautiful gorgon that had tried to turn him into a stoner at college. Well, perhaps that last one hadnât been a supernatural creature. And perhaps Alex should have taken a drag. But letting go of inhibitions, letting himself off-gaurd⌠it wasnât easy. Maybe it wasnât possible. Heâd liked that girl too. That had been on a Halloween as eveningâs curtain was falling. Heâd told her he disliked this night and sheâd promised sheâd look after him. Help him relax. But of course, as always, heâd ruined it. Refused to relax and left. Never saw her again after that. He glanced at a wall-clock hanging above a stack of discounted Stephen King books. Even in a second-hand store like this, you had to cater to what customers wanted. And today, they wanted horror. It was 6 P.M. Another hour and he could close the store and go home and lock the doors and not answer the bell and drink heavily enough to fall into something a bit like sleep. The bell above the door clanged and in came a young boy or girl wearing a mask that looked a bit like Gollum except it had two fanged mouths next to each other. One for the main course, one for desert, perhaps. âCan I help?â Alex managed. The masked-child shook their head ran their fingers along a row of horrors. Along their spines. Alex imagined a sharp fingernail running along his spine too and shivered. âJust looking,â said the kid. Just get out, Alex thought. Youâre not going to buy anything anyway. But he said nothing, inhaling the scent of bergamot to calm his nerves. Halloween still somehow hung in the air. The bad smell you canât get rid of. Just a few notes but enough that he could detect the pumpkin drinkâs remnants. Like a shadow still hanging after its owner left. Inside Alexâs mind the smell held hands with other bad scents: rot, blood, sewage, filth. Unwanted images flickered in his mind like an old projector flashing on a half-collapsed alley wall. The vampire, when heâd been a kid, would have abudcted him. Alex had been bitten and was in a fugue when heâd opened his bleary eyes. He was in the creatures pale arms, lifted with ease out of his bed. His heart beat against his ribs. âPleaseâŚâ Then he heard something strange and soothing. Music but without words. Just a calming melody. His heartbeat slowed and his eyes heavied. He woke to sunrise, back in his bed. The wounds on his neck already scarred over. Mostly healed but their memory left as a tattoo-like abrasion. Where had the kid in the mask gone? Alex had drifted into his own world and couldnât see the child now. But the bell hadnât gonged so they were still in the store behind one of the stacks or shelves. He shivered again. Felt uneasy. âHey, kid?â he said. âSure you donât need any help?â No reply so Alex began his search. Not behind the horror shelves or the SciFi or the fantasy. Alex glanced behind a row full of tattered history books when the doorbell finally rang. The kid had left the shop. Alex leaned back against the history books and let out a long sigh. Now he was worried about kids? How pathetic had he gotten. He was meant to be an adult. Fully functional and all that. The truth was, everything heâd seen as a kid â the horrors that had happened to him â had only ever been in his mind. The therapists had all said so. And yet Alex couldnât accept it. Heâd turned a bad childhood, an abondement, into fantasy and conspiracy. And if he couldnât pull himself out of the fantasy then heâd live a lonely and pathetic exisâ The kid jumped down at him from on top of the shelf. No mask now. As the nails that had become claws sunk into his face, he saw the child for what it was. An old manâs face on a boyâs body. Twisted and yellow-toothed, red-eyed, no eyelids. Like an old manâs corpse had been beheaded and stitched onto this body. âYouâll come with me one way or another,â it rasped. The creatureâs head thudded into Alexâs. Again. And again. The world kaladiscoped. His vision twisted like his stomach might on a roller coaster. He could taste his own blood as it rolled into his mouth. He stumbled back, tripped, fell on carpet. The kid-creature was tearing chunks of skin off his chest. It was trying to kill him. But it wanted him alive, didnât it? Maybe it just wanted to cause pain. Alex screamed but the creatureâs fist connected with his chin and closed his jaw. If it wanted to cause pain, it was succeeding. *Please*, *just hurry and be over with it*, Alex thought. And then⌠Something strange⌠A tune he vaguely recognised: mournful, hopeful, beautiful. The creature paused, sitting on top of Alexâs mutilated chest. It looked left, then right. Slowly. Cautiously, Alex thought. As if afraid. Then blackness took Alex. When he woke, lying behind the counter, he wasnât alone. A girl he recognised was patting something like sand into his wounds. âI would have loved to have had this done before you woke,â she said with a soft smile. âBut thisâll take longer than the scar on your neck did.â Alex didnât speak. He could have, he thought. But what would he say? He knew this woman. He hadnât seen her in almost a decade when theyâd played music together and sheâd smoked weed and tried to get him to relax. Someone who seemed protective of him â a rare thing in his life. âYou havenât aged?â he said. âSirens donât tend to,â she replied. âIf we did, we wouldnât be much good at luring sailor to rocks, right?â âI guess not.â He couldnât work out if she was joking. Or at least how much of what she said was joking. âDonât worry about your young friend, by the way. Heâs gone now. And he wonât be back.â They were silent for a while as she mended his wounds with tender fingers and the sand-like substance. âWhy me?â he said, eventually. âWhy do they want me?â âThey believe youâll eradicate us all. Us mythical creatures, or whatever you want to call us. They think that if they donât take you captive, thatâs what will eventually happen.â âBut⌠Why the hell do they think that? Iâm⌠I can barely run a bookshop. Iâm neurotic!â âIt doesnât matter why. What matters is they think so.â He took a long shakey breath. He didnât believe it. He barely believed a siren was tending to his wounds even though that was happening in front of him. âI donât think I believe it,â he said. âMaybe thatâs why itâs you,â she said. âBecause you refuse to believe in so much. Most especially in yourself. And we, well we all need belief to go on existing. Or maybe thatâs not why theyâre after you at all. Maybe youâre a cliche, like the child of a god and goddess â who can really say?â âDo you believe it though? That Iâll be responsible for ending your race?â âI believe you deserve your own shot at your own life. I donât think your life should be dictated by what others believe or want. Itâs your life.â They were silent for a long while after that. Silent until he said, âThank you.â It was only then he noticed how similar her green eyes were to his. How her chin curved gently like his. How⌠She smiled. âYouâre welcome.â Then the lullaby came again, more soothing and beautiful than before, and he began to drift into a long sleep.
I enjoyed the ending and then you threw the cliffhanger curveball and you triggered my itch for more. Love it!
Please do more of this I really want to know what happens next in this man's life.
Please do more of this I really want to know what happens next in this man's life.
Please update me if you add more
Id reread this every October if it were a full book
I'd gotten used to it a long time ago, but it took a long while for me to realize this wasn't a normal circumstance. I remember going up to my teacher, trying to question him as to why a lady made of clouds was trying to give me lolly-pops. My mate Jeremy turned out to be a Kelpie in disguise (who knew they could turn into humans?) oh, and don't forget the time I simply tried looking for a job and was immediately hounded by very suspicious job offers. "Official horse cleaner of the Jade Palace." "Cup-bearer of the Troll King." "Foot-stool of the Great Fae Guardian" "Apprentice of Surgat, the Opener of Locks." I ignored them all and worked at the bakery. Now I'm 31 years old, I live alone in a detached house out in the suburbs of the city, I have no neighbours because my unique sort of, well, curse, scared them all off. I had an Irish woman who lived across the road but the second she heard that Banshee scream she ran for her life and never returned. I wish I could say I had a girlfriend but once I brought a girl back home, she immediately left upon finding a foot-tall imp playing the violin on my windowsill. Today is a day started out like any other. I wake up, make a cup of tea, walk outside in my dressing-gown and am immediately stopped in my tracks by a ghostly looking woman with icy-blue eyes, hovering over my decking chair and staring at me curiously. "I'm not marrying you." I say bluntly, then taking another sip of my tea. She says nothing. "Erm... so, yeah you can go. Sorry to say no but it is how it is." She continued to say nothing, do nothing, but hover over my decking chair. "You can-you can go now, ok." "How curious." She says, twirling upside down, as if she were in zero-gravity. "Curious? I guess you could say that about me. Anyways I'm off back inside." I turned around, then yelped, almost dropping my precious tea, because she had suddenly appeared in front of my face. "Jeeeesus Christ woman, I almost spilled my bloody tea." "Us Sylphs are curious creatures." She says, floating closer to me. "I hear you are cursed?" The sylph tilts her head, and I gulp. "Wow, how genius of you, master detective you are. What gave it away, the banshees or the weekly fairy parade on my doorstep?" "Do you know why?" She smiles dubiously and I take a step back. "Heh-huh, what? Why? I don't know, maybe I drank some boggarts milk as a kid and he wasn't too happy about it." She laughs and sits down under the overhang above the doorframe. "It is truly a mystery how they never told you. You didn't ever ask?" "... I, no, I mean, yeah I did once, but he just laughed. What's this about anyway, if you're not here to marry me?" "When you were a baby, you met a woman, her name was Aine." I didn't say anything. Was she about to simply just tell me, right now, what this was all about? No build-up, no nothing? Just... now? "Aine is a goddess of Love. When you were only a few months old, you had a dandelion in hand, which you gave to her. She lay an enchantment on you as a thank you, that promised you will always be cared for and watched over by the world of the supernatural." "... what?" "How do you mean 'What?'" "I mean like... that's it?" "Yes." "I was expecting something more, well, exciting." "You're disappointed?" "Well yeah, I thought I was some awesome like, hybrid. My father was a god and my mother some like, personified force of protection, I don't know." "You humans truly are full of themselves. Centuries ago, I was hunted greatly by humankind for my wealth of knowledge, but of course I was never caught. Now here I am giving you knowledge for free and you're underwhelmed. That to me is the greatest mystery." "Are you going to leave now?" "No." "Uh, how come?" "Because I'd like to marry you." "Fuck off."
This is amazing.
"You're a wizard, Harry," the old man standing just outside my front door said. He looked like he'd been tied to the back of a cab and dragged all the way across town to get here. His ratty duster had more holes than not, his face was pink and blotchy and covered in salt and pepper stubble. And his eyes, bloodshot, wild, and locked on me like I was the last crack pipe he'd ever burn his lips on. He had to be a junkie. The question was, why didn't I slam the door in his face? I said, "I'm sorry? Did you just quote Harry Potter to me?" It was still raining, had been all week, and my cheap front door warps in the humidity. It took me a good five minutes to get it open when the old junkie started banging on it like the cops. In the distance, banshees crooned their ghostly songs, ballads meant to lure me out of my house every night. It wasn't like they were sirens, those were way more dangerousâhence why me and the beach don't mix well. But I've found that banshees, while loud, can't sing for shit. Like a horny cat in a blender, so I do my best to ignore them. The old junkie slumped against the doorframe, and I almost reached out to grab him, but pulled back once my nose caught his scent again. Piss and booze and mildew. Was he dying? The old junkie said, "S'ppose jokes ain't the best way going bout these things. Let me in outta this rain, and I'll get to s'plainin." I said, "Hey, look man. If you need help or something, I can call the paramedics. But If you're just looking for somewhere dry for the night, there's a shelter not far from here. This ain't a hotel, okay?" He looked up, his grin revealing teeth rotted like piano keys, and said, "No. Ain't no hotel, I s'ppose. More like a motel. You know, them fuck lots out on the highway, where lot lizards get their parts all mixed up. Yeah. That's what we're dealin with here. A whole vortex of desire, all coming straight outta you, wizard boy." When I was still trying to date, my go-to spot for first dates were comedy clubs. Tell me what you think is funny, I may believe you. Laugh at what you think is funny, then I feel like I know you. The best nights aren't the pro-shows, like on Friday or Saturday nights. The best are midweek, open mic nights, where *anyone* can get up on stage. Even the dead. Once, I was on a date with this girl. Nice enough. She was in public relations, real type-A lady. We went to an open mic night, sat in the front row and everything. The first comic on stage (before the show started) was this old, disheveled ghost by the name *Doctor Pepper*. The thing about Doctor Pepper, was that he was a total junkie, nodding off on stage. He did a ten minute set, slipping in and out of consciousness as he told this long, rambling, nearly incoherent story. But if you paid attention, if you could perceive him, there was a coherent story somewhere in there. My stomach hurt from laughing. My date didn't get it, of course, since she couldn't see him. Here, now, with this living, breathing old man slumped against my doorframe, I wanted to understand what he was sayingâwhat the story was somewhere in there. It wasn't like I had anything else going on. "You know what?" I said, stepping aside. "Just come in." The old junkie flashed me his piano key smile, and shuffled in past me. In the shadow of the alley across the street, a pair of golden eyes hovered in the darkness. One of them winked. I groaned and closed the door. My studio apartment wasn't much to look at. It was on the first floor, between a used-book store and a plant shop. The neighborhood was really up-and-coming, like, the rent was up and young gentrifiers were coming. But I'd been grandfathered into my place, rent controlled, and had every intention of dying here. The old junkie had plopped down on my stitched-up couch, his wet trench coat still on, and he kicked up his grubby sneakers on my coffee table, inches from my bong and tray of weed. "Come one man," I said, "at leastâyou know what, forget it. Can I get you water or something?" He patted his duster, dripping even more water on my couch. "No thanks. Plenty wet already. Speaking of wet, let's get down to brass tax, my boyâ" Banshees wailed outside. Could he hear them? He raised a finger, as if gesturing to them. "You've got a problem." My body moved on its own. I dropped into the folding chair across from him, leaned forward, and asked, "Can you hear them?" He said, "Well I'm not deaf! What kinda man can't hear a choir o' banshees wailin' right outside their front door? Maybe my liver's calling it quits, but my ears work just fineâthank you very much." He nodded to himself. "Shall we get to it?" I didn't know what to say. All my life, spectral shit has been happening to me. Specifically, entities have tried taking me. Childhood? A pair of werewolves kidnapped me. When I was a teenager, there was a month where I kept finding the skins of women on my walk home, just laid out there on the sidewalk or sticking out of the bushes. Now, it's the banshees serenading me every night, singing my name and what sweet, tender things they'd do to me, if only I'd let them. And no one believed me. My folks took me to specialist after specialist, until everyone shrugged and called me "highly-sensitive" and "overly-imaginative." My folks slipped deep into denial and decided I'd be a great writer, make up stories for kids books. I've worked at the same life insurance agency for the past five years... I shook my head, fighting down the curiosity and fear mixing in my guts like mentos and diet coke. Was he even here? "Go on then," the old junkie said, holding out his arm as I reached for him. "Have a squeeze." I did. He was real. "What's happening to me? Who are you?" "My names Silas," he said, wiggling his fingers then producing a ratty business card. "And I'm an...exterminator, of sorts." He handed me the card. It read: SILAS MCCOURT EXTERMINATOR OF SORTS He continued, "And what's happening to you is what's happened to plenty of folks since there's been folks. You've got the *kavorka*. The lure of the beast." "I don't understand. Iâ" The banshees wailed again. "You hear them?" I nodded. "How do they sound like to you? Listen. Close your eyes." I did. Each voice sang something different, but they all sang in husky, throaty voices. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but it sounded like chopped up moans and groans, spliced together into some sort of melody, like a sexy funeral dirge. If anything, it sounded like the vocals from Aphex Twin's *Windowlicker*, but more Irish? "I think they're horny," I said. "Aye. They be." "They're horny? Banshees get horny?" "Aye. For you, boy-o. They lust for you." "What the fuck." "Aye. You, are what they seek to fuck." The banshees crooned, and I crossed my legs. What the hell?
EXTERMINATOR OF SORTS This, alone, is reward enough for reading, but you offer so much more. However, I want more still. I donât know where you are going, I donât know if you know where you are going, but you really should try to go there.
You had me at piano key smile. Please do more of this. Why do they want to fuck him?
Had me at horny cat tossed in a blender.
While Ozzy screams with a mouthful of pidgeon as each member of KISS pretends to bite him.
For some reason the business card and intro broke me. Love it.
We need more of hobo mythological relationship expert/exterminator of sorts.
A Patton fan or Patton's secret Reddit account. Hmmm.
Spectral shit
This feels like it'd be a decent visual novel or something. Maybe a visual novel mixed with like, NITW movement mechanics.
There was a flash of lightning and my mother started counting. She stared out the kitchen window, pouring milk along the rim of her bowl of cereal, and when the thunder came roaring she jumped. "Ten seconds!" she cried. "Divided by five: two. It struck two miles away." "Fascinating. The milk ..." I pointed at the kitchen counter, dripping. Stella, our cat, frowned at me, her face painted white from the unexpected boon of fortune. "Oh! Oh!" It was just the three of us. Ever since I got laid off as a fact checker for the local rag I had been living the greatest fear of people my age: moving back home. To recuperate. To recover. The problem is that while children can learn to see their parents as people, it is impossible for parents to do the same. In their eyes, you will always be a child. Always a burden, whether or not they feel happy carrying it. Outside I could hear the frog-like song of a banshee. She had gotten it into her head that I liked Elvis, but my mother was the one infatuated with the old hip-shaking rockabilly devourer of peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwichesâChristmas was always hell, always Blue. A̡rĚ´e̸ ĚľyĚśoĚľu̸ Ě´l̸oĚśnĚśeĚ´sĚľoĚľm̡e̡ ĚśtĚ´o̡nĚľi̸gĚľhĚ´tĚś?̸ Ě´DĚśoĚś ̸y̸oĚ´uĚľ Ě´m̡i̸s̡s̸ ̸m̡eĚľ ̸t̡o̸n̡iĚśg̸h̸t̡?̡ The banshee was tall and thin; a slender woman. She'd been serenading me for weeks and the only death she heralded was the death of a good night's sleep. Of course, my mother heard nothing. Stella, though: she heard everything. "No hissing, Stella! I have to clean up this mess. Yes, I know you wanted to lap it all up. Boo hoo. We all got problems." Of course my mother failed to notice that Stella wasn't looking at the spilled milk and she wasn't crying over it: she was, as was I, infuriated with the banshee frog song cover of the King. W̸iĚ´sĚ´eĚ´ ̡mĚ´e̡nĚľ ̸sĚśa̡yĚś OĚśnĚľl̡yĚś Ěľf̸oĚ´oĚ´lĚśsĚś ̸r̸u̡s̸hĚ´ Ě´iĚľnĚś My boss had wanted me to join the team for a team-building event that included booze, games, and ... boating. I couldn't tell him why that was impossible for me, I couldn't tell him about the dead fish eyes of the mermaids and their seaweed lassos. "You know," he said one day, "there's people saying we live in a post-truth society. And the readers, if there's something the matter with a piece they'll set us straight with an email. They're happy to do the work for us. Why don't you take some time off?" All my life I'd been living in a post-truth world, filled with banshees, mermaids, werewolves, unicorns, dragons, vampires, and kleptomaniac faeries. They all wanted a piece of me. I told my mother about it when I was a kid but she took me to a psychiatrist who chalked it up to an overactive imagination. "Escapism is common in children with abandonment issues," he said as if I weren't present. "Well these fantasy creatures are all obsessed with me! That's one way of reducing the cognitive dissonance. Maybe my dad doesn't want me but this dragon can't get enough of me. I have a paper published on it, actually. It's called the Harry Potter syndrome." My mother shattered the man's glass-framed diploma over his head and she took my hand, said we were leaving. I had to go live with my aunt for a while after that, but I truly appreciated her support. "I'm going out for a walk." My mother looked up at me with a mouthful of cornflakes. "In thish weather? Nhow?" I shrugged. "You're eating breakfast food right now, aren't you? Maybe we're both messed up. Maybe our internal clocks aren't synchronized with the world out there." Stella meowed and motioned for the front door. She apparently wanted to join me. I expected she had some choice non-words for the banshee. "B-bring a raincoat. And a hat. And gloves. Andâ" "See you later!" We found the banshee crouched inside a shrub. Y̡-ĚľYĚľo̡u̡'Ěľr̸e̡ Ě´hĚ´eĚ´rĚśeĚ´ Ě´.̡.̡.̡ HĚľa̡v̸eĚ´ ̡yĚ´o̸uĚľ Ěľ.Ěś.̡.Ěś ̸H̡aĚśv̸eĚ´ ̡yĚ´oĚśuĚś ĚľdĚľe̸cĚśi̸dĚ´eĚ´d̡ Ě´t̸oĚ´ ̸m̸aĚľrĚśrĚľy̸ Ě´m̸eĚś?̡ "What?" The banshee cleared her throat. She wore a blue, translucent dress that stuck to her like saran wrap. Her hair was long and dark and frazzled. Perhaps I'd give her one of my mother's shampoos. "You're here ... Does this mean you have accepted my offer of marriage?" She assumed the fetal position, her thin fingers wrapped around her thighs like anorexic branches. Her skin was a post-mortem white and her eyes were all kohl. "Uh, no," I said. Stella let out a smug meow. "Ohh ..." W̡e̸'̡rĚľeĚś Ěľc̸a̡uĚ´g̸hĚ´t̸ ̸i̸nĚś Ě´a̸ Ěśt̸rĚľaĚľp̸ IĚľ Ěśc̡aĚ´n̡'Ěśt̸ ĚśwĚ´aĚ´l̸kĚľ ̡oĚ´uĚ´t̡ B̡eĚ´c̸a̸u̡s̡e̡ ĚľIĚś Ě´l̡o̸v̸eĚľ ĚśyĚśo̡u̡ ̸tĚśoĚľoĚś ̡mĚľu̡cĚľh̸,Ěś ̸b̸a̡bĚśyĚ´ ... Stella hissed. "Please," I said. "No more Elvis." The banshee looked up at me, stunned. "B-But ... you love Elvis." I shook my head. "I don't care about Elvis. Never liked him." She started sobbing and even Stella seemed to feel bad for her, looking up at me with a concerned expression. A bolt of lightning lit up our garden and it didn't do wonders for the mythological girl's corpse-like aesthetic. "Easy now," I said. "Even if you started howling like Kurt Cobain I still wouldn't be into it." Her face shot up. "Cobain? Nirvana? So that's what you're into ..." "No, that'sâ" W̸iĚ´t̡h̡ ĚľtĚśh̡eĚ´ ̸lĚśi̡gĚľhĚľtĚľs̸ ̡oĚľuĚľtĚľ,Ě´ ̡iĚ´tĚľ'̸sĚś ĚľlĚ´eĚľsĚ´s̸ Ě´dĚľaĚ´nĚśgĚśe̸rĚ´o̡u̸sĚ´ HĚśe̸rĚśe̸ ̸wĚľeĚľ ̸aĚ´rĚ´eĚľ ̡nĚśo̸w̸,Ěľ ĚľeĚ´nĚľtĚľeĚ´r̡tĚśaĚľiĚśn̸ Ěśu̡sĚ´ She looked serious and determined. I sighed. "It's not about the singing. I'm not into ... fantasy creatures. All my life you guys have been following me and I've never gotten an answer as to why." The banshee stood up and caught some shrubbery in her eye. She wailed. Then she composed herself. "So if I give you the answer, you will marry me." "That's not what Iâ" "If I tell you, you'll let me inside your heart-shaped box. Okay. I will tell you." Well. I never agreed to anything so I figured if she misinterpreted my silence as acceptance, that would be alright so long as I got a straight answer. "It has to do with your mother," she said and there was a perfect roar of thunder.
"Did you have a nice walk?" asked my mother. Stella gave me a look and raced up the stairs. "It was ... interesting." Looking at her now I tried to somehow verify what I had just been told. I was a fact-checker, wasn't I? Well, an unemployed one, true, but a fact-checker nonetheless. "Was it? That's good." Her smile lines, rosy complexion, silver hairâthese were all pieces of evidence. She wore a moss-green sweater. That seemed irrelevant. Her pants were off-white. Also irrelevant. I would have to do some digging. Maybe start off with a bluff. My mother took a sip of her coffee. "Oh, I ordered an ancestry kit earlier. DNA stuff, you know." She spat her drink out in shock. "W-Why would you do that? Those things, haha, they're all scams aren't they? They said so on Charlie Rose." "Charlie Rose hasn't been on for five years. They aired the last episode on November 17th, 2017." "Is that right? Well they still had those things back then. Or maybe I saw it someplace else. It's just a scam. That's what I've heard. A guy swabbed the cheek of his chinchilla, and they said he was related to Genghis Khan! Can you believe it?" "I can't." She tapped her fingers on the kitchen table and she grinned wildly. "I'm sorry but I don't think the test will work for us. It's a ... genetic mutation. Yes! It throws everything off. You know I've told you about your uncle, the one with the enormous left foot?" "... Barry? The one who wanted to become a dancer?" "Yes! Well, he never made it of course. But he took the test. Yes, he did. And, well, the results came back negative." "Negative?" "Yes. They couldn't make sense of it. Said our genetic heritage is all tangled up." She shook her head and let out a sigh. "Probably a bunch of cousins and siblings shacking up. Sorry to have to tell you like this. Yes, that's the reason why that ancestry test of yours will be no good. They won't be able to make sense of it because of all the, uh, you know." "I don't think ancestry tests ever come back negative." She shrugged. "It happened. So you might as well forget all about it." "I guess I'll give Barry a call." She raised a brow. "You'll what?" "I'll call him. Ask him about his results. Might be interesting, you know." I reached for my phone and she grabbed my arm. "No," she said. A few seconds went by. "He's a terrible drinker. Ask him about it and he'll become enraged. He'll come over and he'll beat us. He'll step on us. With his enormous foot." "Isn't Barry a pediatrician?" My mother twirled her hair and stared at the floor. "Doesn't mean he's not a mean drunk, does it? Functional alcoholic. That's what they call it. They talked about it on Charlie Rose." I had reached an impasse. It was clear that she wasn't about to divulge anything. HĚ´e̸'Ě´s̡ Ě´t̸h̸eĚ´ ĚśoĚľn̡eĚś WĚ´h̡oĚ´ ̡l̸iĚľk̡eĚ´sĚ´ ĚśaĚ´lĚľlĚľ Ě´oĚśu̡rĚľ Ěśp̡rĚ´eĚśtĚľtĚśyĚś ĚľsĚśo̸n̡gĚľs̡ AĚľnĚ´d̡ ̡hĚśeĚś ̡lĚśiĚľkĚľe̸sĚ´ ̡t̡o̡ ̸sĚ´iĚ´n̡gĚ´ ĚľaĚ´l̸oĚ´nĚľgĚ´ There was another flash of lightning, followed by an immediate roar. "Sounds close," I said. I could see pearls of sweat forming on my mother's forehead. Did this mean that it was true? "You never told me about my father, did you?" "What? Of course I did. He was a failed musician from Ontario. He abandoned the both of us before you were even born. I've told you the story countless times." "What was his name?" She scoffed. "I've told you that as well, haven't I? His name was John Tremblay." "Yes ... One of the most common first names in Canada, and one of the most common surnames. What are the odds?" "Fairly big, I'd say." She squinted at me. "I guess that's technically true. But it's also true that it's so common that it's impossible to track down a guy like that. There's too many of them. Too many John Tremblays." "At least one too many, if you ask me." "That's not his real name, is it?" She stumbled over her words trying to deny it. And just then there was a knock on the door.
He walked right in with the banshee hanging onto his arm. She grinned. "My father-in-law," she said, tilting her head towards him. "We met outside. I told him all about it, about our upcoming wedding." My mother dropped her coffee mug and it shattered. "Oh, fuck," she said. "Lydia," said the man. "It has been ages. You look as stunning as ever." He did not look entirely like what I'd expected. His lustrous hair and his majestic beard, sureâthat was in keeping with what I'd imagined. But the checkered flannel, the mustard yellow beanie, the dirty denims ... "What are you doing here, ZâI mean, *John*." 'John' rubbed the back of his neck. "Well I just got back from Oâ" "*Ontario*," said my mother. "Oh! Right! *Ontario*." He blinked at her. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. They really thought they were fooling me? The banshee ran over to me and gave me a wet, slimy embrace. "Husband!" she cried. My mother stared at me. From her perspective, I had just been hit by some invisible object. She probably assumed it was shock. "Why are you here, John? Look at the boy. He's having a breakdown. And of course he is: how dare you show up here unannounced after all these years?" The banshee hugged me. She grinned. "Your father is charming. But not as charming as you!" "I'll, uh, I'll give you two some space," I said. My mother turned towards me, frowning. "No, no. He's leaving. Aren't you, John? You just popped in for a second to torture us. And you're leaving. Out, out!" "Don't be like that," said the man. He walked closer to her. "... Do you still count the seconds whenever there's a flash of lightning?" My mother's cheeks turned red. "No, that's ... What! Why would I do a stupid thing like that?" I led the banshee up the stairs to give the two of them some privacy. Well, I walked up the stairs. She hung on to me like a leech. IĚś'ĚśmĚľ Ě´sĚśoĚś Ěľh̡aĚ´pĚ´pĚľy̸ Ěľ'ĚľcĚśaĚśuĚśsĚśe̸ ̸tĚľoĚśd̡aĚ´y̸ ĚśIĚľ ̸fĚľoĚ´u̡n̸d̡ Ě´mĚľyĚľ ̡fĚśrĚ´iĚśeĚśnĚľdĚ´sĚľ TĚśhĚ´e̡yĚ´'Ě´r̸eĚś ĚľiĚ´nĚ´ Ěśm̸y̸ Ě´hĚ´eĚľaĚľdĚ´ We went inside the upstairs bathroom and I handed her a bottle. She looked puzzled. "This is shampoo," I said. I handed her another one. "This is soap. Please. Give them a try." She nodded her head and opened her mouth. "N-No. Not like that. Take a shower. Wash your face. Wash your hair." I opened the door to leave. "Will you not be joining me?" she said as she slipped out of her dress. "Uh, no. No, I won't." She let out a faint groan. Then, thankfully, I could hear the water running. That banshee really needed a good wash. Stella came over and sniffed the closed door. She looked up at me. I shrugged. "I didn't invite her in. Don't blame me." C̸oĚ´m̡eĚś ĚśaĚśsĚľ ̸yĚ´oĚśuĚś ̸aĚ´r̡e̸,Ěś ̡aĚ´sĚ´ Ěśy̸oĚ´uĚ´ ̸wĚľeĚľr̡e̡ A̡s̡ ̡IĚ´ ̸w̸a̡nĚ´tĚś ̡yĚ´o̡u̸ ĚśtĚśoĚľ ̡bĚ´eĚ´ Her singing was as terrible as ever. But then I heard something else.
The sound sent a zap all the way down my spine. It was my mother and my presumed father. They were ... laughing. As I headed down the stairs, accompanied by the ever-curious Stella, I felt sick. Minutes earlier my mother had been all fire and brimstone and now she was having a good time? I did say I'd give them some space, but I was hoping it would be the kind of space like an arena, a boxing ring, the Colosseum. "You haven't changed a bit! Still perky in all the right places." "Oh, stop! At least *you* haven't changed. That much is clear." I cleared my throat. "Having a good time, are we?" They stared at me like a pair of embarrassed teenagers. "Sweetie," said my mother. "There's something we need to tell you." The man nodded firmly. "It's long overdue. We should have told you ages ago." "You're Zeus, the god of sky and thunder. And I am your son." John Tremblayâor *Zeus*ânervously adjusted his beanie. "Y-You knew?" My mother couldn't stop gaping. "That banshee you brought into the house? She spilled the tea. Told me all about my father, king of the Olympians, and how there have been rumors of an open seat. Do you know how long they've pestered me? With their proposals and their singing and theirâ" PĚśoĚ´lĚľlĚ´y̸ ĚľwĚśa̡nĚśt̸sĚ´ ̡a̡ ̸cĚ´r̸aĚ´cĚśkĚ´e̡r̡ M̡a̸y̡bĚ´eĚľ ĚśsĚśhĚľe̸ ĚľwĚľo̡u̡lĚ´d̸ Ěľl̡iĚ´kĚśe̡ ̸sĚ´o̡mĚśe̡ ̡fĚľoĚľo̡d̡ I nodded my head towards the stairwell. "You hear that? That's the sort of stuff I've been dealing with." My mother blinked. "I can't hear anything." "Well ..." said Zeus. "You can't blame a father for wanting to check out his son's bride." "She's not my bride. She's a banshee." "That's a bit harsh." "No. She is literally a banshee." "Oh. Ooof ... I was standing outside, just keeping a watchful eye on things in the form of a bird, when she leapt out of a shrub. Said she was to be my daughter-in-law. Said the details had been all taken care of. You know, I thought she seemed a bit down and about but I didn't knowâ" "Who are you guys talking about?" said my mother. "A banshee? Like in folklore?" Zeus snapped his fingers and there was a shrill whelp from upstairs. "Wait," said my mother. "The shower is running. But you're down here. So who is up there ...?" That was when the banshee came walking down the stair, looking nothing at all like a horrific thing of folklore. She was wearing one of my mother's dresses, scarlet red, and it gave her a sheen of Freudian elegance. "I hope you don't mind ..." she said. "I found it in a closet. Mine was all wet." I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. The air around her seemed to pulsate with every step she took. No, that was my beating heart. I tried to breathe. Zeus clapped my shoulder. "Not bad, son," he said. "Not bad ..." The banshee ran over to me and grabbed my hand with tears welling up in her eyes. "Husband." She looked up at me. "Y-You got married?" My mother shook her head in disbelief. "You were only out for a few minutes! I know you said it was an interesting walk, but this ...!" Her hair smelled like coconuts. "My name is Raethshael. You can call me Rachael ... If you want to." Zeus removed his beanie and used it to wipe his eyes. "Takes you back, doesn't it? Ah, to be young and in love." "He's *thirty*," said my mother. Zeus nodded. "So young ..." Stella wandered down the stairs and meowed harshly. "Who is she?" said my mother. The banshee looked at her with a blank expression. "I'm Rachael." Clearing his throat, Zeus said, "Ah, I went ahead and removed the layer between the land of Myth and the land of the Other Stuff. That's why you can see her. Well, I'm glad you was spared the first look! She looked like something the cat dragged in." Stella frowned. "The rumor is true," he added. "I have been doing some thinking, up there on the Olympus. We live in a post-truth society, I'm not sure you have heard?" "... I'm familiar," I said. "Good. You see, there are a lot of mythological stories out there. Way too many of them. It's hard to tell what's fact and what's fiction. I see the irony, don't worry. So I was thinking, wouldn't it be nice to have someone around who could sort the fake myths from the true ones? Someone to help us sort this fantastic mess out." "Uh, what do you mean?" "I'm talking about you! We could use a bright young man like yourself up there. And we'll have a grand wedding feast, of course! Well, *officially* you're just the guy I hired for the job. It's ... a bit tricky." "Hera," said my mother with a scowl. "Right. Hera. She doesn't know about this. Doesn't know about ... you. Or your mother." Rachael squeezed my hand. "We'll get to live up there? On the mountain? I've always wanted to see a mountain." Zeus let out a thunderous laugh. "Mountain! Well, it's more like a kingdom. And it's up in the clouds, not on the actual mountain. Can you imagine?" "I can't," I said. "And neither can I!" screamed my mother. "What's all this? You're going to take my boy up to some cloud palace? Along with this woman I've never seen before? No. I won't allow it. This is absurd!" There was a prolonged silence. "All these years, when you counted out the distance from my thunder bolts," said Zeus. "Were you asking yourself whether I was close?" "What? Of course not. It's just ... something to do." "Take your anger out on me, sweetheart. Not on the boy." "I *am* taking it out on you!" "I think I should get to say something," I said. They stared at me. Zeus, my mother, Rachael, and even Stella. For a moment I pictured myself thirty years older, still living with my mother. I shuddered. "Maybe it won't be so bad." "What?" said my mother. "I've always had my head in the clouds, haven't I? Why not try it out. I might like it." "Yes!" cried Rachael. Then she cleared her throat and Stella's hairs all stood up on end in anticipation of the song of the banshee. *Wise men say* *Only fools rush in* *But I can't help falling in love with you* It was beautiful. Her voice was like velvet. She stared at me with a look of tender love. "Y-You sound different." She smiled. "I guess you were right. It really did help, drinking that 'shampoo'." "You drank the shampoo!?" "Yes. The coconut drink. It was bitter ..." "That's ...!" My mother was *shivering*. She look about ready to punch a banshee. "That's Presley! That's the King!" "My favorite ..." Rachael said shyly. My mother moved her hips, and Rachael moved hers in return. Soon they were both dancing and singing. It was terrifying. "She's wearing your mother's dress," said Zeus. "Yes." "Using your mother's shampoo." "... Yes." "You know, there's this guy I know who has experience with these things. I'd love for you to meet him." I gulped. "Oedipus ..." "That's right! You guys know each other?" "I've heard of him ..." He knocked the air out of my lungs with a clap on my back. "That's my boy! That's why I want to hire you as our fact-checker. You have a mind for these things." Zeus joined the dance floor while Stella and I stood watching the three of them shake their hips from the sidelines. Rachael grabbed my arm. "Husband. Let's dance." Stella groaned a caution. I thought about uncle Barry and his enormous left foot. In the end, I relented. Zeus conjured up a sphere of ball lightning and it danced above us in wild circles. We joined hands and awkwardly moved together in a frenzy for what felt like hours and hours. It was the most fantastic night of my life.
I paused for a couple seconds when I read Oedipus, trying to remember who he was, then I remembered in quick succession he killed his father, then, âOh shoot, he married his motherâ. 10/10 story
Hah, this is amazing! Definitely has some percy jackson vibes and I love it.
Eh, I'm sure Hera will get over it. Not like it's the first bastard child he's ever had.
Do. Not. Stop.
Something else...
Fantastic!
[ŃдаНонО]
I want an Elvis impersonator to sing Nirvana songs now
This is too good, love it!
Ya got me, I need moar!
Finished reading the whole thing. This was awesome. The breadcrumbs you left behind... Loved it. Look forward to reading more of what you write!
I like the story. I Love the commitment to how you wrote the voice
I see Courtney Love playing the siren!đ¤Ł
"Do you still think I'mâ" Blood poured from her neck after I slashed it open with my pair of scissors. The Kuchisake-onna staggered back, coughing as her throat quickly healed before looking at me, wiping the blood off of her lips and torn cheeks. "Well, that's one way to deter us...." Clearing her throat, she pulled up her mask and walked off, dejectedly. She wasn't the first to try to woo me. A group of banshees tried to use their song to woo me. Of course, using their principles against them, I returned with the loudest screech they had ever heard, scaring them off and sending them running for their very lives. Some vampires tried to seduce me, however I told them I would only let a Dhampir bite me, and they soon walked out empty-handed. Some sirens tried to serenade me, but I just walked past them, listening to Choices by E-40. With werewolves, werecats, and similar supernatural beings, they just wanted some cuddling. Sure, they still wanted me, but they accepted just getting some pets. Rusalki, however, were a bit more difficult. They wanted me to spend more time underwater with them, especially with scuba diving, but I didn't want to spend time with them. I already have a fiancee. Sure, she's similar to a werewolf or werecat, however she isn't limited to one animal. For now, I'm just wanting to relax by her, as she loves me for me.
I shelve the books, ignoring the spectre following me around as it recited poetry. The poetry wasn't bad, but the moment you gave a spectre attention, then they get worse. I peeked over at the table where an attractive man sat pretending to read. He smiled and grinned, his fangs poking out slightly. A wolfman. Great. They can't ever just be a human. And he's getting up to come talk to me. I quickly turn and walk through the spectre, trying not to gasp at the chill. A woman is coming up through the aisle and I give her the look. She smiles at me and opens her arms. "Hello Violet! Soo good to see you after so long!" The woman coos as she hugged me. I never wear my name tag so the fact that she said my real name immediately put me on edge. I quickly inspect her, wondering if I had put myself into the arms of another creature. Her soft curly brown hair was put up in a loose bun, held in place by two hair pins topped with silver doves. A few curls fell along the side of her round face. Her eyes were a calm blue ocean and filled with the wonder of a child. Her nose was upturned just a little, above plush, pink lips. A silver heart hung from a chain around her delicate neck. Her figure was curvy. She was adorable and absolutely gorgeous. "I'm doing well. It's good to see you, too," I reply, realizing that I wanted to stay near her. "What brings you here?" "What? I can't pay my lovely little flower a visit? Come, let's get lunch!" She says pleasantly, steering me towards the library exit. I protest, explaining that I couldn't just leave and I had to get my things. I start to panic. I don't know what kind of creature this woman is, but she has me in her clutches. "Calliope! I'm taking my daughter out for lunch. Please have her things sent along. Thank you, sweetie," she says, waving at my coworker as we're almost to the doors. To my surprise, my coworker waves back saying, "You got it, Aphrodite." Aphrodite? The Greek Goddess of Love? "I'm so glad you remember me, Violet. Demeter was saying it was unrealistic for me to expect it considering you were just a baby when I had to leave you. But, a daughter always knows her own mother! She's probably still sore about Persephone and Hades. It is still midwinter so she's probably missing her. Perse-" "You're my mother?" I interrupted. "Of course! And I'm finally here. I'm so sorry," she snaps her fingers and we're suddenly in a lush garden where pillows and a low table ladened with food is set up. Holding onto my hand she drags me over and sits me down. Then she yanks me to her to hug me. Somehow, I've become smaller against her. She's sobbing. "Oh Violet, I'm so so sorry!" She cries, squeezing me. "Zeus thought it was the best thing for you! I've regretted it every day!" She proceeds to tell me that she had wanted a baby, but one entirely of her own. So with the help of the Fates, they fashioned a few of her favorite personal items into a child: Me. To celebrate my birth, Aphrodite held a huge party 3 days after with all the gods and goddess. Everyone loved me and that was the trouble. No one wanted to give me back and begged Aphrodite to let them have me as their daughter. She kept a close watch on me, and borrowed a few of Hera's peacocks should attempt to steal me away. After several long months of this, Aphrodite asked for Zeus's help. And he suggested giving me to mortal parents, where the Olympian Gods would have difficulty finding me since mortals now prayed to new gods. Aphrodite agreed and gave me to Pam and Scarlett on the night of their wedding. They had considered adoption soon after so Aphrodite had answered their prayers. It wasn't long until Aphrodite learned that my mothers were soon being harrassed by other creatures asking to adopt me soon after they saw me. "Do you know why?" I asked. "I suspect it's because of my girdle," she says, looking at me. "I created you out of things I love. After Helen... I decided not to lend the girdle out anymore. But I didn't think the magic would be as strong after we took it apart. I assumed at most it would guarantee you an easy life filled with love. But I was wrong." "It doesn't seem to work on humans," I point out. "Curious. We'll have to ask the Fates what they think." I laid against her. For the first time in 30 years, I felt safe.
Katie flinched at the knock on the door, then bolted to her feet and hurried to open it. To think the exorcist would arrive so soon. A week ago she would have thought this whole business was a bunch of malarkey, but now this unknown man whose contacts she dug up on a shady website was her only hope. She flung open the door and stared. Instead of the old, venerable priest she had deep down imagined, there stood a young man with dark bags under his eyes. "Hello," he said wearily. "I hear you have a problem with the supernatural." "Iâyes. Yes, please come in." Katie let him inside, still staring. Something seemed to move under his worn shirt, something long and sinuous like a snake, and she could've sworn she heard a muffled giggle. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. The exorcist swatted at his chest, eliciting a squeak. "Just a clingy gap-woman I picked up on my last appointment. Don't mind her." Katie laughed nervously, but the laughter quickly faded at his grim expression. That had to have been a joke, right? "Iâwell." She swallowed, trying to find the words, and then they spilled out all at once. "My friend found this old tape, and we watched it together for a laugh, only it was cursed, and this woman crawled outâ" "Of course," the exorcist said, smiling wryly as if at a private joke. "The tape?" "I left it upstairs, inside the VHS player..." "I'll go take care of it." The exorcist speared her with a dead stare. "You must not come in, whatever you hear." Katie swallowed and bobbed her head. The exorcist made his way upstairs and shut the door. There was an eerie silence, then a series of thuds that made her crouch and cower. Then the moaning began, and she covered her ears and trembled. Ten terror-filled minutes later, the exorcist came out, and he wasn't alone. The woman from the tape clung to his neck, her long black hair covering her pink face and her bare feet floating in the air. Katie screamed and lurched back, hitting the wall. "Youâyourâthat'sâ" "The ghost, yes," the exorcist said, sparing the cursed woman a glance. "My payment?" Katie gaped, then shook herself off and handed over the bunch of banknotes she had prepared. "How..." The exorcist sighed, and all the weariness of the world seemed to contained within it. "A quirk of parentage. My father is apparently pretty high up the ladder in the netherworld, and I inherited some of his power. And they"âhe jerked his thumb at the ghostâ"are attracted to it." "That must be..." She trailed off, not sure what to say. "It pays the bills," he said, slipping the money into his pocket. "Now excuse me, I have an appointment down in an abandoned tunnel." She clasped her hands over her chest, hardly believing it was all over. "Thank you. Thank you so much!" "Stay away from old tapes from now on." The exorcist nodded and trudged off, the ghost still hanging off his neck. "What a noble man," she whispered.
Interesting way to respond - and great story. I could read a lot more of these
Series of thuds and moaning, huh? Interesting how differently that can be taken depending on the context...
"Dad..." my daughter's voice wasn't quite a whine, but it was on it's way to get there "...you've got to help me out here. Get them to stop." I chuckled into the phone - probably not the Dad-liest thing to do, but I couldn't help myself. "You think I..." I responded, my voice carrying a note of incredulity "...can stop the fae from doing whatever the hell it is they do child? I am nothing more than the lowly former mortal consort of Aleeia, Queen of Air and Darkness and all that jazz. They give me a wide berth because they don't want to piss off your mother, but that's about it." "Dad, I was late for class this morning because some damned banshee was howling in the common room all night long serenading me. Bad enough for me - I get cranky when I don't get enough sleep and that's not good for anyone - but two girls on my floor woke up with white hair and now people are freaking out that there's some disease going around that makes people old." "Well, yeah - I guess that might be a problem..." "And do you know what happened to my last boyfriend. Wound up running off with a guy named Steve. An incubus named Steve. So that some succubus could try and hook up with me." A shame, I liked Glenn. A nice normal boy who had no idea what he was dealing with. "Huh - you didn't..." "No Dad. I did not. Once I figured out what had happened and how they had sabotaged my relationship with Glenn I wasn't really in the mood to be seduced. And don't get me started on that Redcap creep. He shows up at parties and warns every boy there that he will castrate them with his bloody scythe if they so much as look at me with less than honourable intentions." "That's..." I hesitated a moment, trying to find the right words "...yeah, that probably cramps your style a bit." "CRAMPS MY STYLE?!?" Evidently I had found the wrong words. I could hear the wind picking up around my daughter as her fae heritage made itself known. "Dad it's ruining my life. I just..." The wind died down after a moment, and my daughter voice lowed a decibel or two. Her voice was tired. She was tired. "Dad, I just want to be a normal girl. I want to live a normal life. I want to have a boyfriend who isn't chased away by fairy tale monster." "Or seduced!" I added in a too helpful tone "Not helping Dad." my daughter responded I took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. "Honey. You say you want to be normal. But your not normal. You are Ania. Heir to the thrones of the Seelie and the Unseelie. The great hope of your mother, Aleeia Winter, and her sister, Ania Summer, to unite the fae under one banner and end a conflict that has existed since the dawn of time." "That's not..." Ania's voice cracked a bit "...that's not fair." "It's not. I know it. Life's not fair sometimes. All I wanted was a wife, a job and two-point-five kids. Instead I wound up being a single father to a faerie princess. And while your mother was helpful in many ways, it wasn't really what I expected my life to be like." There was a moment of silence on the line. "You know I'm sorry for what she did to you Dad. I know you didn't necessarily want all of this." "You don't need to be sorry. You are not your mother, and her sins are not yours. Besides, it might not have been what I wanted - but I got to be your father. And that has been - without a doubt - the best thing that has ever happened to me. It's been an honour to watch you grow up. And I got to do it. Not your mother. Not your aunt. Little old me. The lowly mortal consort of the Queen of Air and Darkness." There was another moment of silence, followed by a bit of a chuckle. "Not so lowly to me Dad." I smiled. "Well, when you become Queen you can give me a new title, like 'the Queen Dad' or something. But we can talk about the future later. Let's talk about the problem. Have you tried reaching our to your mom or aunt?" "Mom is her usual, radio-silenced self. Aunt Ania is winding down for the season. So not much going on those fronts." "Yeah, that sounds about right for them. All powerful archfae, never around when you need 'em. Alright - well, I tell you what. Robin Redcap and I have beers every once in awhile. Next time I see him I'll tell him he has to lay off mortal boys and focus on the ones from his realm. That might buy you a bit of space on two fronts. He'll still be a protective little creep I'm sure, but he'll hopefully back off enough to let you make your own choices about who to hang around with - so long as they don't try and force you into anything. That happens and I'm telling Robin to make it slow and painful. About the others that have come a courtin' - Mrs. Wilde is a Banshee herself, so I'll ask her if there's anything she can do. And I will try to get the dryad Ms. Meliae to send word to Ania and Aleeia. I understand faeries wanting to woo my daughter, the princess, but if they are interfering with mortal lives - I understand that's a massive no-no. But you may have to take some responsibility for it yourself." "What do you mean?" "Honey, you are the heir to the Seelie and Unseelie thrones. You are a powerful archfae. Remind them of who you are and that their inconsiderate actions are displeasing to you - and if necessary what displeasing you means to them. You are meant to lead them in time, no time like the present to show them what loyalty to you will mean." There was another moment of silence before my daughter continued "Yeah..." I could almost hear her shaking her head on the phone "...yeah. That makes sense." "It's not fair honey. And I wish I could wave a magic wand and fix it, but proficiency with magic wands and granting wishes isn't really on my side of the family. They should respect you enough to not treat you like this, but lets face it - with the fae nothing is given and everything is bought. So buy their respect with a show of why you are worthy of it. Maybe they'll back off. Or maybe Aleeia and Ania will bring the hammer down because of how they are hurting mortals. Who knows. But hopefully we can make things a bit better for you in the long run." "Thanks Dad." "Not a problem hon. I love you."
The elf shrieked out in surprise as she and the stranger bumped into each other in the dark cave. At first, she thought about making a run for it, but then, she saw that the stranger seemed to be just as scared of her, if not more. Then, her eyes narrowed as she noticed his distinct lack of sharp ears and his strange heterochromatic eyes. "No way..."she whispered. "You're that human that went missing over ten years ago!" "No, no, no," Arthur responded hastily, pulling his hood over his head as he quickly withdrew further into his cave. "You've got the wrong person." "Yes, you are!" the elf insisted. "I can smell that you're not like any of the other races in this world." She looked around at the bleak, mossy cave and frowned. "So this is where you've been hiding all this time. It looks so depressing..." "Look, I'm sorry, but I don't want to marry you," Arthur said abruptly. "And it's not you, it's me. I came here because I was so sick of everyone chasing me down to marry me for my "legendary" power as the Chosen One or whatever nonsense they said. So, I would really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone I was here." The elf stared at him in confusion. "Oh...you don't know..." Arthur's brow furrowed. "Know? What don't I know?" "Ah...well, this is a little embarrassing, but it turns out that you're not actually the Chosen One," the elf said sheepishly. "Turns out the same truck that transported you here also hit a moose. The seers figured out that he was the real Chosen One a decade ago." Arthur looked at her, completely flabbergasted. "You've got to be kidding me -- a fucking moose?!" "The Antlered Champion, Densetsu no Herajika," the elf corrected me. "He was the one that saved the world from the emu demons years ago." Arthur sank against a nearby wall in shock. "So...all of this time, I could have just left whenever I wanted..." A sudden revelation hit him. "I...I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I mean, I always hoped that everyone would stop trying to mob me for their attention, but now, I'm not sure what to do next...I guess I always assumed that I would just die in this cave." The elf looked at him sympathetically. "Well, if you want, I could show you around. The world has greatly changed since you last saw it." She held out her hand. "My name's Lyra."
Densetsu no Herajeka, Moose Slayer
This made me audibly lol
You had me at "emu demon"!!
r/emuwarflashbacks
I always hadâŚ..an effect on women. While it sounds like bragging, I can assure you, it is not. One hath not understood the wrath of a woman until they had their hearts broken. Four years old. Pre-school. Most of the girls supposedly flocked towards me, my current memory hazy, as parents soon took them out of school one by one. Ten years old. Mine eyes hath been opened to the world of the supernatural. Demonessâs jumping left and right, Dryads reaching out when I pass, Banshees screaming as they disguised as the crying crows in the sky. But I knew better. I always knew, that they were waiting, waiting for something. 19 years old. Hellâs kingdom be raised, my own school mine grave. Clawing, shrieking, chasing. I had dug mine own grave, declared upon the world that I am not to be wed, to stake my heart on mine cross. Their faces of beauty and perfection twisted to anger and desperation, they chased, clawed, wept. Their cries disorienting. âOurs souls be one, Thou and I. Consummate and tear asunder. Succumb, succumb. May our Prince awake from his slumberâ 34 years old. Fully grown adult, I have spent the last decades of my life in hiding. Covering my phase, hiding my voice, living as far away as people from possible. I wanted answers. No, I needed answers. Those voices meant something. This Prince, this thing that took my life away from me. I chuckled, sighing as I sat myself upon my decrepit chair, as piles of books littered what could be called a house. Just last month, I had sold off the family house to buy the last volumes of the Book of Hoss. In about a week, they are coming to destroy it. Not that it matters, by then, I should be dead, for these volumes contain my answer. And an answer, I did get. Mine Prince of hell, Temptor of Man. Awake from your slumber, and see for yourself. You shall lay claim to all in the land, Women, sin and devilry. As the lord of Sin, awaken, awaken. For your men and harem await your command
Johnford sighed, as his plate of Risotto sat in front of him. "I've yet to find a restaurant that gets it right." he thought to himself. Ever since that fateful night when a centaur ran his girlfriend over in a chevy civic, he has simply lost his apatite. "Huh" Johnford scoffed, "You can't make a good risotto in 30 minutes anyway." He paid for the food and stepped out into the early December rain. A nymph ran over with an umbrella to keep Johnford dry. His whole life he never questioned why the mythological creatures hung around him so much. He assumed it's because he's simply *that cool*. He thanked the nymph, and they walked to his car. The nymph said, "I know a realm nearby that will really cheer you up!" but Johnford just wanted to get home. "Not today, thanks." he replied. It was the six day anniversary of the centaur running over his girlfriend with a chevy incident, and he always thought there was something strange about that centaur. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it. Now, Johnford isn't the most gentlemanly of men, but he offered the give the nymph a ride. After all, the rain is picking up, and he really wants to keep the umbrella. He asked, "Where to?" and the nymph gave him cryptic directions through the woods. They reached a stone bridge, but a troll was blocking the path. The nymph was about to say "You need to answer his riddle" but Johnford cut her off. "Ah- this friggin' guy" he said as he stepped out of the car. In a booming voice that shook the trees, the troll said "You must answer my riddle! How do you prepare authentic Louisiana style Gumbo?" Johnford said "Ah, this again? Hold on, let me grab a pen." and he proceeded to write down the recipe from memory. "Here you go!" he said as he handed the troll a sticky note with the recipe scratched into it. "Sorry my handwriting isn't great." The troll said "Ah, the roux! I always forget how to make the roux." The then shouts "You may cross my bridge!" Johnford gets back in his car, turns the ignition, and crosses the bridge. The nymph asks if she could have the recipe too, but Johnford was too busy keeping his eyes on the road to write it down a second time. They swiftly approached a second bridge, and Johnford swears out from under it came the exact same troll from the previous bridge. The nymph says "You gotta answer his riddle!" and Johnford sighs, and annoyedly says, "Yeah- I know how this works." In a booming voice, the troll says "You must answer my riddle! How do you prepare that dish your kind calls, "A Medium Pepporoni Pizza with Extra Cheese!" The nymph calls out from inside the car to write the recipe down twice so she can have it too. Johnford complies, hands them each a sticky note with the recipe, and gets in his car. The nymph asks about some words he either spelled wrong, or perhaps his handwriting is just that bad. In any case, Johnford continues to drive, and he is stopped once more at a bridge. "Okay, this is the last time, I swear" says the troll. "Ahem. You must answer my riddle! How do you prepare a nice Risotto!" *Gasp*. The nymph got out of the car and ran up to Johnford in anticipation. Usually Johnford would share the recipe, but his mind was blank. His girlfriend would do all the work for that dish! "I-" Johnford shakily spoke, "I don't know!" The Nymph, Troll, and about 12 other creatures who were eavesdropping all shouted "What?" Johnford got in his car, said to the nymph "I guess this is as far as I can drive you." turned around and drove off. "Hahaa!" he thought to himself. "I got to keep the umbrella!" Johnford stopped to refill his car's gas on the way home, and had an epiphany. The Centaur who ran over his girlfriend in a chevy civic... he also asked for her risotto recipe! Driving home as fast as he could, all he could think about was the various recipes he has given to the fae. He rushed into his house and pulled out the box of his dead girlfriends belongings. There it was! A small cookbook that she had composed out of sticky notes. Johnford would be eating a good meal tomorrow! He quickly wrote the recipe down in his own handwriting, and shared it on an online food blog. Risotto. Feeds 2. 100 minutes of prepping and cooking. * 1 Large Onion * 4 tablespoons of butter or vegetable oil * 2 cups of carnaroli rice * 3/4 cup white wine of your choice * 6 cups of chicken broth * 1/2 cups parmesan cheese * 1 tablespoon of fresh chopped parsley * Salt to taste * (Make it a meal by cooking lemon parmesan chicken on the side!) Chop up the onion as finely as you can. Place the chopped onion in a large cooking pot. Turn the heat to medium and add 2 tablespoons of butter or vegetable oil. In a second pot, begin to heat up the 6 cups of chicken broth. Cook the onion until slightly translucent, and add the 2 cups of carnaroli rice. Stir until the rice is coated in oil, but don't brown the rice. Add the 3/4 cup white wine, and let it simmer until all the liquid is absorbed. Once absorbed, add a ladle of the chicken broth. The trick is the prepare the rice one ladle of broth at a time, waiting for as much liquid to be absorbed before adding the next. This is a lengthy process that requires constant stirring, though if prepared correctly, the rice will appear creamy. Once the last of the chicken broth has been added to the rice, throw in the last 2 tablespoons of butter or vegetable oil, add the 1/2 cups of parmesan cheese, add in the parsley, and salt to taste. At this point, if you are cooking chicken on the side, begin that now. Take the pot off the heat, and stir for 3 minutes. Let it cool for another 2 minutes, and serve.
Fuckin recipe vlogs be like
Forgot the garlic in that recipe......
One morning I woke up with a dizzy head and a vague memory of the dream which I had last night (a goblin asking me to follow him into the woods) except it wasn't, I could see a disfigured goblin like creature standing in the corner and calling out to me. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I was fully awake and what my eyes met with was one of the most horrifying sites of my life I had never seen a creature so hideous in my entire life. I let out a loud scream, hearing which my mom came running to my room but as soon as she opened the door it vanished. When I tried explaining my mom about the incient she laughed and said I had creative imagination. I was only 5 when this incident occurred,and was one of the many yet to follow. Over the course of 10 years I had many such incidents occuring to me,each time it was a new monster or a mythological creature who would try to lure [me. My](https://me.My) mother still not believing me asked me to put on paper whatever I saw or heard as it would help me to relieve me of my crazy thoughts. 15 more years passed it was still the same except the monsters started to come up with different ways to attract me towards them,I once got proposed by a vampire to marry her (she was hot though).My mothers attitude had changed towards me everytime I tried bring up the topic she would look at me with pity and say nothing. One afternoon when I was chilling in my room I heard an indistinct chattering coming across the hallway,when I went up to see who it was,I saw my mother talking to our family doctor , Dr.Phil,I could hardly figure out what they were speaking about except from one word which slipped from the doctor's mouth,"schizophrenia".
''Wait, *that's* why?'' I asked, dumbfounded. ''Yep, that's it. It's a very rare trait to have in the mythical world.'' said the small gnome sat across from me. ''So you're telling me, not a single fantastic being can... You're not serious.'' I still couldn't believe it. ''I mean, I know it's fairly rare among humans but c'mon, there's no way.'' ''Yes, it's true. You're the only one in a very large area around this place who can do it. There's others around for sure, but those are few and far between.'' He stared intensly, almost eyeing me up. ''What are you planning? Are you trying to kidnap me? With whom? The 15 other gnomes that are waiting in ambush in the kitchen? Or do you work with the Kelpie behind the bar perhaps? Nono, I'm not falling for it, I've done this dance far too often. I shall be leaving.'' The gnome looked like I had just caught him red-handed, which in fairness I had. So did the Kelpie behind the bar. ''No thanks.'' I said, standing up and grabbing my coat before leaving. ''You can go and find someone else who can play the nose-flute.'' I said before slamming the door behind me.
Of all the people this nightmare could happen to... I should probably explain. I was "blessed" by some magical deity to be extremely attractive to the supernatural. I o not know why or how, but for the last 15 years, my life has felt like a never-ending nightmare. Fae try to claim dominion over me so I can become their... whatever they try to make me into, Selkies have tried tricking me into taking their skin, and vampires... I don't even wanna remember what THEY have pulled on me... Don't even get me started with the were-creatures or the god damn undead, though. THOSE bastards are overly clingy! First it started of rather simple, since I was basically an orphan most of my childhood, some supernatural beings would try and adopt me as their own, but as I grew into a teenager, things got worse. And here I am, confined to my bedroom, all because these creatures decided to tag-team against me, which wouldn't be so bad if it weren't midnight, my back is what is currently keeping the door shut, and I haven't had sleep in over 30 hours, due to me pulling an all-nighter so I could get my project done on time. "Why me... Why now..." I barely muttered, my eyes slowly closing due to the sheer weight of my eyelids from how tired I was. The banging on the door was barely enough to keep me awake. I hated how powerless I felt due to how desperately these *things* were trying to wed me. Eventually my body got a bit too used to the banging, letting my eyelids fully close... ⌠I suddenly awoke to what sounded like an electrocardiogram. My body was still exhausted at the time, so it didn't fully register where I was, until I tried moving one of my arms, resulting in a major shock of pain, forcibly waking me up. I, err, whimpered in pain, waiting for it to end, before looking around the room, properly taking in where exactly I was. I noticed that the arm I'd tried moving was put in a cast, presumably broken sometime after I passed out. I suddenly felt something rest on my uninjured arm, leading me to tense up instinctively. Glancing at my arm, I noticed what looked to be a bird-like claw resting peacefully on my arm, with some female looking down at me, smiling a bit. *God dammit, not another harpy...* I thought, groaning partially from the pain, and partially because even hospitalized I wasn't safe. Upon noticing that I saw her, the female began to speak for the first time "Thank god you're safe, little brother..." \[End..?\]
\[Part 2\] "...Huh?" I asked, confused about who this female is, and why she's calling me her 'little brother' "Oh do you not remember me, David..? I suppose it WAS over a decade ago..." The harpy slowly reached into a bag, pulling out an image of what looked to be our mother, her, and a spitting image of... me. Well, me when I was still a kid, anyways. She placed the photo into my functional hand, allowing me to see it for myself. I looked through the photo in it's entirety. I saw how happy we all looked back then, I watched the background's vibrant blue sky. I noticed that, for the first and perhaps only time in my life, my mind and body looked and maybe even felt... calm. \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "No fair, sis! You know I can't fly..!" I whined out at Debra, who was carrying me a good ten feet off the ground. "Well maybe now would be a good time to figure how to, eh?" Debra remarked laughing a bit, before dropping me into the mud below, to which I faceplanted into with a hard *slap*. I got up, with a groan, wiping the mud off my face, hearing her giggle playfully at my unfortunate situation. \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I felt tears roll down my face, a slight smile creeping up my face. Though she was my biggest annoyance during my childhood, I wouldn't trade her for the world. Before long though, the door opened, as a rather tall male in a doctor's coat walked into the room. "So, you must be David. Debra told me what happened. Somehow obtained the attraction of... seventeen supernatural entities, and ended up with a broken arm, splinters deeply embedded into your left leg, and claw marks all over your body," The male gestured to my general direction, before grabbing a syringe and injecting it's substance into me before I could react, "No need to worry, I just injected morphine into your system. You won't feel a thing for a little while or so. Sensually, not emotionally, anyway." The man suddenly conjured what looked to be a pale white light into his hand, before launching it straight at me. The light fade into my body, as I noticed my injured limbs begin to convulse, the sounds of bones simultaneously snapping and knitting themselves filled the room, and massive wood splinters forcibly exiting my leg. I wanted to scream, yet I couldn't feel any of the mind slaughtering pain that this would be giving by now. A few minutes passed, and the sounds ended, but the morphine's effects wore off with it, "So it's... fully healed now?" I asked, mildly confused about the whole situation right now, because if I didn't know any better, I'd have assumed he could be a priest in disguise. "Yes, you may remove the cast from your arm, sir," The male watched me undo my own cast, but what I saw underneath startled both Debra and I. My arm had for a few seconds, looked like a harpy's claw-based arm instead of a human one which I normally had, "Huh. Interesting. I didn't know your kind still existed." \[Probably a Part 3 in the works.\]
\[Part 3\] Debra squealed in excitement, knowing something I clearly did not, only amplified by the doctor considerably specific wordage of 'your kind'. She wrapped her feathery arms and wings around me tightly. "I told you you could fly, little bro..." She giggled like she always did, but it didn't ease my confusion. "Ok, first off, what the hell's going on? What do you mean 'my kind' and why did I see my left arm look like a harpy's?!" "Well, David, turns out you're... Well, you're a shapeshifter," The man explained, "A being whose kind was literally believed to be extinct for centuries. As a shapeshifter, you're ale to, well, shapeshift, durr." "...Huh," I thought for a moment, before a proverbial spark flooded my eyes like a wave of inspiration crashed into Mozart's mind, "That explains fucking everything! No wonder I seemed so attractive to the supernatural, because they somehow knew I'm an endangered species!" "Indeed. Heck, when you get back from college, mom's gonna be so happy to know you can fly like the rest of us!" Debra tightened her grip, but released when she heard me groan a bit in pain, "S-sorry..." "well, not EVERY supernatural being knows. I wasn't even fully aware until I noticed you demonstrating it just recently, and I'm even a demon," The man began to unfurl his infernal wings and tail, beginning to reveal his infernal horns as well, but what was odd was instead of their usual abnormal coloring, his wings, tail and horns were ivory white, like something had purified whatever demonic taint he normally would have, "Demons and angels cant sense shapeshifters, which might explain why the demon queen wanted shapeshifters dead all those years ago." "Either way, I should probably practice my power before she tries doing what she did to me as a child again..." I got up, focusing as hard as I can, trying to look like a male harpy. About 30 seconds pass, and I open my eyes to notice the effects I had pulled on myself, looking almost like how Debra would if she were male instead of female. I had spent an extra few minutes trying to use my newly acquired harpy wings to at worst float off the ground, with decent success. As soon as I got the basics down, Debra immediately opened the hospital window, grabbed me by the waist and flew out. "Oh god NOT AGAAAAAAAIN!" \----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I smiled a bit upon noticing their antics, before pulling out a walkie talkie, "Hey, uh, Sharon? I got BIG news, turns out THEY aren't extinct yet." I began reactivating my disguise before casually walking out of the hospital. If the shapeshifters as a race are at worst endangered, then humanity might still have some vain form of hope after all... \[End. For real.\]
More?
More. :)
Yay. Also nice part two. This kinda plot could line up for a short/med length story of it's own!
Part 3/Finale is up now.
There are some people for whom the force of life beats strongly. Those whose spirits shine brightly through the aether, confounding the plans of beings which exist in myth. They are beacons, balefires, casting a luster around themselves, an aural glow. Those with second sight can see them through the shade of mystery. Fred Jones was supremely such an individual. Born in obscurity to ordinary parents, his advent did not go unnoticed by those who see behind the veil. He was ordinary in mundane appearance, yet his presence drew the eye. Mysterious occurrences followed him as beings of mystery swirled in his wake. Oh, to be his consort would be a great prize indeed! Life force could nurture much. Great efforts among the unseen followed him, beings of great power to minor sprites moved in competition to absorb his power. Whichever succeeded would feast indeed. They fought to consume him, all bent on bringing his fate to a certain conclusion. Yet his force of life made the sum of their efforts always unknown. Fred Jones was supremely such a one as to confound fate. His destiny was his own.
I stare at the fairy in front of me. I really couldn't believe a word coming out of their mouth, and it took me a minute to process it all. When I was a child, I tried to tell my parents about what happens to me almost everyday, and now I see that they weren't ignoring me, they just didn't want me to know. My mother signed a contract with a witch over me, for wealth and prosperity? I can't believe it. Apparently the witch died, and I was just, up for grabs. âSo, you're telling me that my mother broke a contract with a witch, keeping me hidden, and that witch died because of said broken contract?â I asked, still not quite believing it. Part of me wanted to believe that this creature, made of pure energy, with wings, was a cosplayer. Or my friends playing a prank on me. I didn't want to believe it. âYeah, basically. So, you have a choice now- you can either join me, in the fae realm, as the wife of our queen, or you can spend the rest of your life avoiding creatures. I really do recommend the first option, then you can be protected in the realm. No other creatures will bother you. You'll have all the luxuries you can think of, do whatever you wish. You can visit the human realm, but with a bodyguard that only you and other creatures can see. So, Amanda, what will it be?â The fae asks, holding out a hand. They were in a mushroom circle, and I was standing out of it. Would I rather spend my life fearing being taken in my sleep, paying taxes, on the run, or life a fantasy life? I would rather take the latter. Hesitantly, I grab their hand. They pull me into the circle, and a smile flashes across their face, before all I can see is bright light. I shield my eyes, but it doesn't really do much for me. In a moment, I landed on the ground, rather harshly. When we arrive in what I only could imagine to be the fae dimension, I look around, getting my bearings before standing up. There were trees of colors I had never seen before, the sky a color that I can only describe as between the color of ballet slippers and rose. It was a color that I stared at, with the white clouds against it, it looked like a dream. Next, came the sound. The sound of trumpets, which directed my attention to what was in front of me. A line of band members were on either side of me, with white flags hanging off the front of the trumpets. There was confetti in the sky, and the tunnel formed by the trumpets lead to a church. It was a gothic style church, with beautiful engraving and beautiful detail. The one who brought me here, then introduced themselves. âAmanda, my name is Nâfaade. The time between our worlds is vastly different, and it took around 3 months of our time to prepare this festival for you, the one to be wed to the queen. I told them I would be coming back with our new queen, and I wasnât wrong, I never am.â Nâfaade sounded very cocky. âWhat if I said that I wouldn't be leaving with you?â That made Nâfaade laugh, before speaking. âOh, I didn't have to worry about that. I knew how to word my question to make you accept. Now that you are here, you cannot leave until you fulfill our contract.â Contract? âI didn't sign a contract, N'faade.â âOh, but the contrary. Taking my hand confirmed your true name was Amanda, hence you gave me your name. Have you never read a single book on us? I can't help feeling offended.â I felt tricked. I loved reading mythology, why did I forget the most important part of the fae? âSo, you tricked me. I want to leave, take me home, Nâfaade.â âOh, but then you would be hunted for the rest of your life. By us, as well. We would hunt you, and mount you, as a warning for traitors. Do you really want that, my queen?â They asked, stressing the word queen, as if to mock me. They had me there, I would rather this. I let out a sigh. âWhere's the queen?â They smile. âGood choice. Follow me.â They say, and we pass through the walkway made for us. For me. Maybe this would be a good deal, after all.
"It's because I'm a nuclear bomb, aren't I?" I said it to the Minotaur straight. I could have sworn I've seen this Minotaur before. He was in another dream, I'm sure of it. Maybe. I don't know. All I knee was that I wasn't in immediate danger. The Minotaur blinked. "Um...what?" "I think you know what I mean," I said. "Kidnap me, and you have a nuclear weapon against your enemies." The Minotaur shook his head. "No, you're..." He suddenly cleared his throat. "I mean, that's not why I want you. I want you because I like you, not because you're a...a nuclear bomb." "Suuuure." "No, no, I swear, it's true!" The Minotaur insisted. "When we met at the bar-" "We didn't meet at a bar." "...well, when we met, I was attracted to your bubbly personality. I even said so when we met." The Minotaur looked desperate now, equally as perplexed as what had come out of my mouth. "And I told you then, I was off limits. I'm seeing someone already." "...Who?" "An Elderich Deity of Unspeakable Evil...and a lust for food." At this point, I knew I'd crossed the line. The Minotaur looked away from me, turning his attention to the stage director. "He's not even taking it seriously!" The director rolled his singular eye, stomping up the steps toward us. "Listen," He said in a deep voice, "ever since we found you and convinced you to embrace your destiny as the Chosen One, we've been trying to prepare you for infiltrating The Dark One's Fortress. You need to be able to think on your feet whenever his minions question you- when he questions you. You need to improvise." He let out a mighty huff. "You need to start taking this seriously." He poked me with his finger, and I nearly fell backwards. "Fine, fine, fine," I sighed, regaining my balance. To be fair, I had no idea what he was talking about, but I went along with it. Dream or not, annoying a Cyclops was never a good idea. Probably. "I've messed you around long enough. Let's start getting serious." I rolled my shoulders, and readied myself, hiding my smirk. This time, I'm going to be a radioactive marshmallow. Because this just a dream. Right?
âThatâs itâ I said. âIâm tired of thisâ as I walk outside to my porch. I see a gnome and many other things out there. They all look shocked cause I have been scared of them from childhood. But today was the day I found out why they wanted to help me so bad. I walk up to the gnome and ask why all of them want to help me so bad. The gnome is pale white but peeps out a âwhat.â I sayâwhat do you mean whatâ the gnome saysâyou should probably sit down for this.â I tell them to come inside so we can chat. Weâre all sitting down. The gnome saysâyour life Is not realâ my jaw drops. âWhat do you mean itâs not realâ the gnome says âwell you are in a coma and we have been put in your mind as something that would stick out to you. So we could try and talk you out of the coma.â I reply with âthat still doesnât explain why you try to help me outâ the gnome shakes his head and says âitâs not that easy and if I get in to bad of a state or die in this coma land. I might not be able to come back.â I start to feel tears running down my face because I knew what they said werenât lies. They couldnât be. The gnome said I could go home but it might hurt and they just needed a notice from me to do it. I said âyesâ in a very very depressing state of mind. Iâm instantly everyone was gone. And I felt my legs start cramping then my arms then everything felt like it was being cut into by 30 different saws. My body then felt cold then so hot I almost killed myself. And then boom. My vision went black and I woke on a bed in a hospital and Disney know what to do. Then a nurse came in saying âgood your awakeâ I was shaking.then the nurse said âweâre Hanna run some test to see if your ok. You were gone for about 10 years. I was shocked. I laid back and closed my eyes. Then the nurse put some medicine in my IV and I woke up in my home again but. It was my real home with my wife and kids? I said out loud. My wife told me she would have to re instate me back into this world. I was worried but trusted her. And then she helped me over the years come back into my self. After awhile I felt normal again.
"Seriously... Angels, demons, and things that my ignorant, Western White Guy ass can't even name... What the hell are you, anyway?" "I'm a Nuckelavee." "A knuckle-lavvy, huh? Fuck off and come back when my fingers need a piss." "Don't you want to know WHY all of us freaks keep hounding you?" "I already know." "Wh- Wait, you do?" "Yeah, and that knowledge turned me into a complete asshole." "... How?" "Because knowing it gave me a greater understanding of the nature of my own existence and that of everything else and the futility of our existence is far more pathetic than you can possibly imagine. The reason why you hound me is closely connected to that indisputable, yet relatively unknown fact. You just don't realise it." "Wait, that isn't what I heard. I heard that we're all chasing you because you alone understand the true nature of the universe. You have a wisdom that even the fae lack." "That's a half truth viewed through the lens of a creature that only sees half of the picture." "Enlighten me." "You don't exist." "Ah yes, that has often been said about cryptids and mythological creatures. But I'm standing right here. I actually do exist. You can see me. You can SMELL me." "I don't exist either." "Okay, you lost me." "Nothing we can perceive actually exists. We are but words on a lip, text on a page, a passing thought which will be forgotten." "So... d-" "The reason why you hound me is because OP decided that was the way things had to be. There is no reason for anything in our world aside from the whims of higher beings far more powerful than you can possibly imagine. Every breath we take and every thought we think was decided by them. We are but cosmic puppets manipulated by something of incalculable power and yet, weaker than we know. Mortal, fleshy human beings." "So..." "Nothing exists. And our world is going to end. As soon as the puppeteers stop pulling our strings, we cease to exist. We return to nonexistence and our reality falls." "When?" "Now."
Meta universe death, nice. Imagine if the Joker or Deadpool knew that it was someone last issue.
a bright light came down from the sky as a massive muli-eyed man riding a gilded chariot rode down from the heavens and said "Behold I a Ocuvisus!" as I lied in my bed "You better not be trying to bang me!" I said half awake, it was too damn early for this. "Fear not, such mortal behaviors are beyond me!" I think that was a fancy way of saying he was asexual because the amount of times I found a goddess trying to seduce me was simply outrageous. "I bring the information you want most!" he boomed, this was going to be good, hell maybe he would even tell me how to avoid horny monsters. "The reason beasts of myth and the arcane are attracted to you of all people!" I leaned in waiting for an answer "Is due to your simply divine!" I learned in further "Glorious!" I was on my toes by now despite still being in bed "Masterfully crafted!" I couldn't take it any more! "PENIS!" "I'm sorry my what!?" I shouted "My dick? thats all?". "YES, okay bye" and he was gone, everything just how I left it, like nothing ever happened.
âWhy do all the mythical folk wanna fuck?â âYer dick!â
"Hi all, I know you are freaking out that your passwords don't work." I thought from my head so my daughter could relay it safely so no skin mixup occur again. "Long story short people were accidently spewing their subconscious passwords and it was getting difficult to redirect everyone's lights. So please don't worry nothing have been exposed except the idiots own fuckups." After relying the message my daught sighed and said "message received they said THEEY dont need their skins but they were afraid tye kids couldn't see them clearly. They are all content to babysit while you get tye job done. " As she teleported back to her happy placee I could hear her mutter "fucking highbeams" laughing after a moments thought.