Hazel Slashed Her Borrowed Sword Through The Spiny, Overgrown Vines, Creating A Jagged Path To The Crumbling
Hazel slashed her borrowed sword through the spiny, overgrown vines, creating a jagged path to the crumbling castle. She was grateful for her secondhand armor–she could hear the thorns scraping angrily against the metal, longing to tear her flesh but unable to gain purchase. She wondered how many knights had failed simply because they could move no further without a steed (surely, no horse would endure the torture of a thousand tangled scratches) or blinded by forgetting to secure the visor of their helmet. Hazel’s visor may have been twisted in spots and rusting in others, but she had ensured it would hold against the terrors of the vines. She was thankful for the months of studying she’d ensured prior to her quest. She’d snuck into her father’s shop to repair her brother's weathered armor as best she could, and she appreciated her efforts had not been in vain.
Hazel was panting by the time she reached the other side of the vines and beheld the castle. She heard rustling behind her and turned to watch the foliage wrapping unnaturally around itself to fill the hole she’d made.
“Well,” she breathed, “that’s unnerving.”
In spite of her misgivings, she moved toward the castle. The keep was surrounded by a moat, and the only access an aging drawbridge that was shut tight. Hazel peered over the edge of the moat. There were no monsters lurking in the murky waters, but if she fell in with full armor, she would quickly sink to her death. She could see the remnants of metal within the muddy depths and glimpsed what may have been a bony arm. The water wasn’t deep, but it was enough.
Undaunted, Hazel pulled her crossbow from her back and checked the knotwork on the rope she'd tied to the bolt. She put her foot in the stirrup and pulled the string back to the catch, loaded the bolt, aimed, and fired. The bolt shot true and lodged itself firmly between two large stones at the top of the wall. Hazel yanked the rope as hard as she could, and when it held, she leaned back with her full weight. The bolt remained solidly in place. She wrapped the rope around her arm. This was a moment of truth–she could walk away now and avoid the possibility of a watery grave, or she could take a literal leap of faith. She closed her eyes and lept...
https://vocal.media/pride/the-knight-s-error
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What Happened Inside the Room (continuation of "From Across the Room" and "From Inside the Room")
Her face swung to the door as she heard multiple locks click from the outside. The man from the cafe entered the room, smiling his icy smile.
“Well, hello! You’re finally awake.” He said.
“What is this? What’s going on?” She said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.
“I’ve been watching you,” he said, stepping closer to her, “You have no friends, no family, no lovers. No one to miss you if you disappeared.”
“I have friends,” she said, faintly.
“None that I saw. Are all of your friends online?”
She looked away, embarrassed.
“How sad. Don’t worry,” he took one last long step towards her, bridging the short distance between them, “I’ll be your friend. You don’t have to go back to that tiny, lonely apartment of yours. You can live here, with me! You can even have your own room all the way down here in the basement.”
“Why are you doing this?” She said as tears filled her eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, feigned pity in his voice, “Because I can.”
Her heart rate increased as he climbed over her supine body. She waited until his position was just right. She jerked her leg, ripping the ropes from the bed, and slammed her knee directly into his crotch. With a guttural moan, he curled into a ball, helpless. She freed her other leg and both arms with a series of quick, decisive twists, then rolled both herself and the man over and off the bed. She had reversed their positions in a matter of seconds. She smiled as she pinned him to the floor. Her teeth glittered in the dim light.
“Too bad you weren’t paying very good attention while you were stalking me,” she purred. She relished the confusion in his eyes, “You didn’t choose me, sweetheart. I chose you. I know what you’ve been doing down here, and you’re never going to do it to another person.” Her teeth grew long and sharp as he watched in terror, and she plunged them into his neck. She guzzled the hot liquid that gushed from his veins. He thrashed against her inhumanly-strong grip, but his struggles became more and more weak as she drained him. Just before he became unconscious, she lifted her head and looked at him. Her dagger-like teeth dripped crimson.
“You know, I really should keep you alive for a while--torture you the way you tortured them,” she sneared at him, “But I’m not a monster.” Her scarlet lips returned to his throat. His body gave one final twitch, then lay motionless.
Simpatico
Ceramic mug steaming
Warm, cinnamon-spiced.
Percussive pattering
On window-panes.
Wet leaves dancing,
Hyper-green against
Rolling grey.
Book in hand, cat in lap,
Pajama-clad and robe-wrapped;
These are my loves.
#art
Derrick Pthalo, semi-retired henshin hero, has decided to take up magick as a hobby. Along the way he's gathered a diverse group of ladies to help him on his way. Life should be easy, but strange monsters seem to follow Derrick wherever he goes. What is the secret of Neo Teal Crisis?
An idea for a new story brought about by seeing multiple posts encouraging artists to make "really weird niche self-indulgent" stuff. I'm not sure where it would go, but I do have a prologue chapter written in my head.
reminder to worldbuilders: don't get caught up in things that aren't important to the story you're writing, like plot and characters! instead, try to focus on what readers actually care about: detailed plate tectonics
Derrick Pthalo, semi-retired henshin hero, has decided to take up magick as a hobby. Along the way he's gathered a diverse group of ladies to help him on his way. Life should be easy, but strange monsters seem to follow Derrick wherever he goes. What is the secret of Neo Teal Crisis?
An idea for a new story brought about by seeing multiple posts encouraging artists to make "really weird niche self-indulgent" stuff. I'm not sure where it would go, but I do have a prologue chapter written in my head.
Calm
The grey-white clouds caress the sky, casting a diffuse light over the comparatively-violent, bright green foliage. The birds are quiet and the bees seem to scramble over the flowers while they still can. There’s a feeling of preparation, an inhale of breath, a calm. A sharp pain in the side of my head speaks to a low pressure spiral. The leaves shiver and dance. It is almost time.
From Across the Room
She spotted him from across the busy coffee shop. He’d been looking at her moments before but averted his eyes down to his phone when she looked at him. His black hair was strategically messy and his five o’clock shadow seemed intentionally scruffy. As she watched him, he looked at her again and smiled, calculatedly embarrassed. Feeling her heart flutter, she smiled back and waved. Steeling her nerves, she picked up her mocha and maneuvered her way between patrons to his small table.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked, sheepish.
“No, please go ahead,” he responded in a low baritone.
She smiled and sat across from him, sealing her fate. Finally, the plan he’d been putting into place for weeks was set into motion.
Things Hidden
The road
Was all we could see
For a few feet, only
As we passed through Enchantment,
And only our imaginations
Could dream
What was hidden in
That Fog;
Were there eyes
Watching us pass?
Were there secrets
We were never meant to know?
On we traveled
And the haze parted
We made it home...
Though maybe
Just barely?
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