Short Story Balthazzar's definitely not R-18 Collection

FIRST: Mods.... plz dont change the title name
SECOND: Questions, concerns, comments may or may not be heeded but I'd definitely notice them if you TAG ME! Dont just write something and leave it there for me to find 2 weeks later
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So instead of making a new thread for every single short story I write, I decided to just make this cuz it's convenient. If you want to be tagged if I ever post a new one, then go ahead and ask. Each short story is different in quality so if you read one and don't like it, try reading a different one or ask me for what I think is the best or something

P.S- Titles may or may not exist....

Spoiler: taggin some people

@Linbe @Miyuu @Frozen ink @mrawesome69 @The great metalunicorn @anyone else I forgot about

Stories are in order of date released... or made...

also different tones for different stories
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ALSO, it could be worth mentioning that all these are products of complete boredom.....

Spoiler: Story Links

The Jester
The Remnant
Solace
Loss
Apocolypse: Mr. Krabs
A Class Boredom
Axe Murder ( has next to nothing to do with axe murdering )
IDEK
Shit Happens
Birth
Ambition
TI FF 1-1

 

Spoiler: The Jester

Gasping for air, he dashed throughout the halls. His legs felt like they were filled with lead and he desperately wanted to collapse but he knew that if he did, the only thing awaiting him would be the cold, void that is known only as death.


He wasn’t particularly scared of dying. No, he was scared of what lied beyond, he was scared of the unknown which encompassed everything. In time, he may have understood what it meant, but now, he was simply a terrified boy. Hearing a sinister laugh come from behind him, the boy almost screamed, but he knew the outcome of such an action.


The eyes that should be filled with youthful vigor were bloodshot and terrified. This was no dream, it was a nightmare. It had to be, after all, when does something like this happen in reality? As the boy continued stomping down the hall, helplessly fleeing the entity behind him, the house seemed to bear down on him.


Suddenly, the walls seemed to shake with fear and the floorboards creaked in agony as a maniacal laugh was heard. It wasn’t one of a killer, it wasn’t one of hate, nor was it one of malice. It was only filled with amusement and joy. Outside was the boy’s only hope, but he couldn’t find the door. It was a strange thought, he had lived here his whole life but when it came down to it, fear overrode memory.


The boy turned his neck around to see a red glimmer, one he knew all too well. He gasped in fear and bolted into a nearby door. If he had stayed out in the hall, then he would’ve seen the sight of a strange man with red eyes leer around the corner. He was humming blissfully and twirling his finger in the air, as if to weave the invisible strings of fate into a ball of yarn.


His other hand was occupied with a long pole. No, it was a scythe, dripping with red liquid. His face was lit up in a smile as he stared down the hall, his steps getting louder and louder as he sung out a simply abysmal poem in a sing-song voice. But strangely, the tune was an enchanting one, ensnaring the boy’s mind within it.


“There once was a jester before me,
one as funny and devious as possible to be.
He came and went,
stopped and spent,
then went home and yes he bent.
But one day things changed,
he started to feel a little strange,
and before he knew it,
he had gone and blew it,
leaving his post in utter shame.


Two days later,
He was found in a crater,
but the jester he was not,
twas the king in all his rot.
yet the king was still on the throne,
so who was this old crone?
No one ever found or knew,
that the king was now someone new.


yes the jester came and killed,
but only god’s will did he want fulfilled.
soon, just like the king,
god turned on him too,
but just like last time ,
the jester committed the same crime,
and now god is in a pot of stew.
here and there he came and went,
laughing and cackling as he sent,
but letters were not his style,
souls were much more worthwhile.”


The final line sent an icy chill creeping down the boy’s spine as he shivered in fear in a closet, in the far corner of the room. Silently whimpering as tears came to his eyes, the boy cowered in fear, hoping that the killer wouldn’t find him. His eyes turned as wide as snowglobes as he momentarily stopped breathing. He could see a hand grabbing onto the wall, just outside the room.


The fingers on the hand were abnormally long as they reached around the wall. Darkness seemed to reach off of them, covering and tainting the part of the wall that was touched in a raven black. A face peered inside the room and the boy felt as though he had lost control of his lungs in that moment.


In came the killer, dragging a corpse behind him. It was a young girl, the boy’s sister to be exact. He started to turn angry, but fear overtook the child. The clank of metal resounded through the room as the jester brought his scythe to the girl's head. At that moment, the boy’s heart turned cold, but he was rooted to his place.


The killer suddenly turned towards the closet, while his hand shaking. And off came the girl’s head, quietly, quickly. A whimper escaped the boy’s lips as he took in the scene and he quickly covered his own mouth.


but all the killer did was look away and stand, turning towards the door. Looking towards the outside, the killer left the room. Each step weighing upon the boy’s heart like a bag of iron. Inwardly terrified, relieved, and crazed all at the same time, the boy stiffened his body.


After a while, the sound of footsteps got further and further away. Hours later, the boy collapsed in the closet, crying over the loss of his family, crying over the close brush with death. A massive weight was lifted off his shoulders as he screamed and cried about the cruelty of the world, and soon, he fell into a deep sleep.


Minutes passed in complete silence before something happened. Behind the sleeping boy who was still in the closet, a widening arc of white was shown. But unlike the hope that white usually represented, the white this time were teeth, shown in the mouth of a maniac. The clank of metal was heard once more as the jester stared at the boy.


“And here is one more,
added to the jester’s score.”


And the slumber that kept the boy was replaced…. by the cold, void of death.

 

*Personal 2nd Place* (Subject to Change)

Spoiler: The Remnant

The Remnant


With eyes that held emptiness similar to space, he had stared at the scenery. It all seemed so superficial now. It didn’t make any sense at all. He had everything he wanted so why? Why did he feel as though a hole had been thoroughly carved in his soul? Why did he not feel….. gratified? He sat on the throne, conquered his enemies, and solidified his place in history.


So why did he wish that he could take it all back? Why did he want to change what he did? Closing his eyes, he pondered for a short while. Never once did he feel that…. anything was as important as power. Why would he take a wife when all the women in the kingdom were at his beck and call? What was left to do now that everything had been taken? Who could stand by his side when all held fear towards him?


It wasn’t like this in the past, it shouldn’t have been like this now. He thought that just maybe, he would have enjoyed life more if he had taken the job given to him by his father. By now, he should have had a wife, kids, and a stable income. He should have had happiness. So why was he led astray by his greed? Why did he perceive that his family held him back? Why did he take them for granted and discard them?


As usual though, no answers presented themselves. he had gone through this many times but he couldn’t understand his younger self. He was now sifting through the memories he had stored. The feelings he had drawn and actions he had taken. It was sad really, an old man on his deathbed regretted most every choice he made. If only he could go back in time and redo everything.


He couldn’t obviously. This wasn’t some fantasy novel. This was real life and when you acted, you must deal with the consequences. As a young man, he was filled with vigor, passion even. A promising young lad that wanted to forge his way into the history books. With a sword in one hand, a shield in the other, and an army at his beck and call. It was nigh-impossible to foresee this ending.


An ending filled with the smoke of war and the blood of the innocent. An ending where happiness was not the common thing it once was. An ending where the normal thing to do was struggle. He hadn’t made anything better. He had only destroyed everything he strived to perfect. His reign was near it’s end and he could only hope that the next ruler would fix his mistakes.


Breathing deeply, his eyes bulged momentarily as he broke into a coughing fit. His condition was rapidly deteriorating, he didn’t have much time left. Even considering that though, he felt the same as always. No one was around to care for him as usual. The quiet was his only company. He laid not as a king, but as an old man, decrepit and calm.


Too many, he could be considered ancient. He had been lucky to survive so long. With that lifespan however, came endless remorse. Once, he was a young man that felt unkillable. No one could suppress him, he was undefeated. Now though, he was only an old man with enough regrets to fill a sea. No children to take over, no wife to stand by his side.


Nothing but a remnant of what he used to be. With one last breath, he closed his eyes for the last time and thus, the reign under the Tragic King had ended.

 

Spoiler: Solace

Solace


Cold and dark. Many words could be used to describe the night but those were among the simplest. However, that did not mean it was quiet. The city was bustling with noise. Cars, music, and shouts. Though, some shouts could be heard from quite a distance.


One such shout could be heard from an average house on the corner. The voice was male, aged. It’s recipient was a young girl, only of 15 years of age. They were father and daughter but their relationship was not familial. It hadn’t been for a while.


As the man yelled, the girl cried. She did nothing wrong, she was innocent. Her mother on the other hand was not. She cheated on her husband and then eloped, leaving behind her daughter in a now broken household. The husband steadily drank more and more alcohol, getting angrier with each dose.


It had escalated to the point where some light abuse would be common. Rarely would it escalate beyond that but the signs were becoming more apparent. A loud smack was heard, followed by a slight whimper. The shouting got louder, more enlivened with rage.


Soon enough, it died down. He went to the garage, no doubt to get another shitty beer to drink. In spite of all this, she didn’t hate him. If anything, she understood him. Of course, that didn’t stop the fact that she hated the actions he took. Seconds later, some light steps were heard as she walked thru the house.


Arriving at the door to her room, she held it in. The pain, hate, remorse, disgust. It was a different story when she closed the door behind her though. She broke down in a mess of tears and snot. Silently, she cried until she could cry no more. Huddled up and holding her knees, she mustered the courage to look around the room.


When her eyes finally gazed over a lone sketchbook, she stalled. Using her sleeve to wipe her face, she stood. The walk to the insignificant pad of paper was a long one, no matter the distance. Reaching one hand towards the sketchbook and the other to her box of pencils, she calmed down.


When they were held in her hands, she sat. As she opened the sketchbook, bursts of color seemed to leap off the page. Great depictions of scenes, people, creatures of all shapes and sizes, and even obscure shapes were so lifelike. They looked as though they could jump off the page.


With steady hands, she opened up to an empty page and started giving her imagination life. What was being made could not be deciphered by anyone but her. While drawing, she was happy. She gave the characters form, and they took care of the rest. This was her safe place, this was what she could do to get past the day. This is what kept her going.


In another room in the house, a similar process was taking place. It was the garage to be exact. A lone man slumped over in grief, crying his heart out. Why did she have to be so similar to her? Why did he have to act this way? He didn’t understand what was wrong with him. They were two separate people, one was a woman that had betrayed him and the other was his pride and joy.


He just treated her horribly. Taking another swig from his beer, he took out a pen. It was an ordinary pen, it didn’t hold any great functions but as he stared at it, he thought back to the past. Back to when times were good, she looked to him as a hero. As her father. Now though, he thought that she hated him.


Grabbing a notepad that was in the corner of the garage, he simply stared at it. He hadn’t used this in a while, he was no doubt rusty. Flipping open the booklet, page after page flew by until he stopped mid-way through the papers. It held a scene of a young girl and her father. Both in mutual joy. In the background, there was a woman, presumably her mother, simply watching with a smile on her face.


If no one knew better, they would say that it was taken with a camera. However, he knew that this is the final drawing that he had created before storing it away. With a shaky hand and varying amounts of hesitation, he flipped to the next page.


He pressed the pen tip to the paper and stalled for a few seconds before a calm light washed over his eyes. Just like his daughter, he had started to draw. It started out with small distortions of a line, but as it went on, his previous skill was shown. Each line was perfect, even without any bold or highlighting.


In this notepad, he could act how he wanted. In this notepad, he could be who he wanted to be. In this notepad, he could try his best. Father and daughter, in the same house, separated by both physical and mental walls, had found the same way to feel at peace. They had both used art as a way to find solace.

 

What a weird title.

EDIT:
I will stay here for a while.....

 

Spoiler: Loss

It was a normal night. The air was calm, the night was dark. A house laid amidst the quiet. There wasn’t a single thing off about it. It was a simple quiet home. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing was prominent. Inside the home were two adults and two kids. The mother of the children was present with her boyfriend. While the kids were in their room, one on a computer and the other on his game.


It was peaceful, but of course that would all change. The two boys shot up as their mother shouted in worry. “He what?! Mom! Calm down, what happened?!” The two boys walked to the door of their room to listen in on the conversation. The mother was on her phone with her mother, and although they couldn’t hear what their grandmother was saying, they could tell it was a dire situation from their voices.


After listening in for about 10 seconds or so, the mother shouted and started hyperventilating. The boyfriend sat down his beer and quickly tried to appease the mother but it was to no avail. “What happened?” The man’s voice resounded through the house and the mother seemed shaken from her thoughts.


Trying to say everything a little too quickly, the mother began to rush towards her keys. “Jake was shot in the head and Gale is in the hospital!” The panic in her voice was evident and there was a reason for her to be. Jake was a family friend and Gale was her younger brother.


“What!? Let’s go!” The two add out of the house without a single thought for the two boys in the house. After around five minutes or so, the eldest boy locked the house’s doors and windows and sat down in silence. He understood exactly what was going on but strangely the information didn’t make a huge impact on him. Maybe he was numb to deaths within the family but that wasn’t likely. Not many people in his family actually died that he cared about.


If his uncle succumbed to death, then he would be the first. Maybe he was apathetic. That seemed to be the more likely case as emotions didn’t come to him easily. It might have been the way he was raised or it might not have. In all honesty, it didn’t matter. He sat there for minutes, maybe even hours and not even a word from his mother. No calls or texts, but he knew that the situation was bad so he paid no heed to it.


The older boy looked at his brother who was occupied with the game. The younger brother was not apathetic, he simply played to not think of the event. A default ringtone banished the silence and a sense of dread slipped into the older boy’s eyes. He didn’t quite know why, but something simply didn’t feel right. Looking at the phone, he saw that his grandmother was calling so he immediately answered.


The sounds of crying permeated the phone call as the grandmother could barely spit out a few words. “Gale died just now.” It didn’t impact him as much as he thought it would but he continued listening. “Your mother’s boyfriend was driving the car while drunk, and coupled with the haste they crashed.” At this point, the grandmother stopped talking to get her emotions under some kind of control. “They died on impact.”


In the meantime, the boy simply stared off into space. Tears filled his eyes but there was no despair on his face. Not because it hadn’t registered or because of the shock, the boy wasn’t crying because his mother got into a wreck. He was crying because he was scared. Not of any external factor though. He cried because the news had no impact on him in any way and that terrified him. He didn’t know why he was emotionless, he wasn’t always like this.


There was a time when emotions were his primary drive, as most young men do. However, at some point during his middle school years, he stopped caring. Joy wasn’t joy and anger wasn’t anger. He was just a blank slate. Of course, he tried to hide it all, cover it with fake emotions. It worked to those he interacted with and gradually he became a good actor. He felt that he should feel…. something. Anger, sadness, something. Even joy would be better than nothing at this point.


Alas, his wish was not granted. Even the terror he felt was superficial. He ignored his brother questions and left the room. There were many things he had to do. He first told all his sibling the news, telling it to his younger brother last. Just like he suspected, they all reacted by bursting into tears. A reaction unlike his own. A week later, he was in a therapy session to ‘cope’ with his mother’s loss. All his siblings had done it and he was the last one.


The session went pretty well but somewhere, the boy’s facade cracked. His true emotions slipping through. “So, how do the recent deaths in your family make you feel?” The boy was about to lie and say some half-baked lie but he decided to be true to himself for once. He decided to stop acting.


“Honestly doc, I am perfectly fine.” The therapist gave a wry laugh and was about to chastise the boy but as he saw his eyes, he stopped. They were devoid of any feeling. Completely unlike before. Suddenly, the therapist knew that the boy was telling the truth. He truly didn’t care. It didn’t affect him in any way, and now that he knew this, the therapist put on a serious face.


“Boy, are you okay?” With a questioning glance, the boy smiled a true smile and replied.


“Better than ever doc.”

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AN: SOOOO, the ending is open to interpretation yanno? It’s left empty on purpose so the reader (you) get to imagine your own ending. Personally, I like to think the boy was admitted into an institution for crazies.

 

Spoiler: Apocolypse: Crustacean

It was a warzone. Blood, smoke, and bodies. The rubble of buildings permeated the ground. Amidst it all was a single 5 man squad. They tightly clenched their weapons but fear was visible in their eyes. The fear only became more prominent when a shake of the ground appeared. The leader clenched his teeth and looked towards his fellow comrades.


They all had families. He himself was a husband and had children of his own. How had things gone so wrong? The plan should have proceeded smoothly. Another rumble resounded and he looked towards his weapon. He supposed it was time for him to meet his maker.


“Men, we came here as the final defense against them. We have failed, and humanity is coming to an end. Our families will die, but right now, none of that matters. We have nothing left to lose,, so let’s give them sonsabitches a fight!”


He raised his hands up in the air and the other soldiers followed his actions. It was a horrible speech and they all knew that, but it was filled with truth and they followed. Their fear was replaced with passion and fighting spirit. It was as if the group underwent some kind of qualitative change at that moment.


With a warcry, the leader stood and started charging the enemies. Sounds of gunfire and explosions filled the area with dread as the entire squad worked to take out the entity. But alas, nothing they did worked. There was no damage. There was no hope. After another minute or so, the sounds of fighting had long since ceased.


The only remaining squad member was paralysed with fear as a claw wrapped around his form. He shivered and tears threatened to spill out of his eyes. He reached up to his chest and grasped the pin of his grenade. Just before the claw crushed him, he pulled the pin off his grenade and the final explosion calmed the field.


Unfortunately, the claw took no damage. In fact, it was as if it hasn’t even noticed it. It chucked the piece of mangled flesh into it’s mouth and continued clattering along. There truly was very limited ways to kill them. Thankfully, the war this time had garnered enough time for the rest of the populace to escape from their stronghold. Leaving behind giant, indestructible crabs with a penchant for flesh.


How could they have known though, that there weren’t any strongholds left. All that was left were hordes of humanity’s bane. They were attacked, and they were killed. The extinction of the human race had happened. There were no survivors.

___________________

Somewhere


“That was interesting.” He spoke the words of an outsider. An observer, one that saw the conflict but did nothing to stop it.


“You shouldn’t do that Helst, you know it’s inhumane.” A tinge of laughter was incorporated within the voice as it spoke out. Yes, they had created this world. They had nurtured it from it’s birth until now. They were gods. Once humanity had gotten past a point, they stopped their assistance. Once they got bored, they incited a calamity.


Humanity was their favorite plaything. Humanity was nothing more than a form of entertainment in their eyes. They were sated this time, but in the future they may be bored once more. They will create a world from imagination and do horrible things to it. In one, they personified death as a jester.


In another, they had created an incredible genius who went to unite an entire continent, but died full of regrets. That particular one was extremely interesting. The subject had surprised them in many ways. In a different one, they had created a world where a father was abusive and the daughter was loyal. They found solace in art, and eventually repaired their relationship through it. It was quite a sad story that the god didn’t finish. In this one, they had conjured indestructible man eating crabs that destroyed humanity.


Yes, you have guessed it. There weren’t any actual gods here. Only writers seeking an outlet for their imaginations. However, when they put word to paper, they create worlds. They create people. Then they dictate what happens to everyone in the story. They were the gods and maybe, the world we live in just servers the purpose as an outlet for some writers imagination.

 

Spoiler: “A-Class boredom right here”

He began humming a small tune as he unlocked his door. Despite being a mere college student, he had a house of his own to stay in. When the familiar click of the lock osunded out, he pushed open the door and was startled. It was cold as all hell in here. Actually, that wouldn’t make any sense so scratch that. It was as cold as a freezer in here. Less impactful but it made more sense.


He moved upstairs and found the heater on the wall. Damn thing must be broken again. He remembered that he clearly set it to 60 degrees. At least he thought he did, he couldn’t be so sure anymore. Lo and behold when he reached the thermostat and it was set to 30 degrees. He realised that he must’ve not changed it at all. Yesterday was quite hot so he simply set the AC on and let it do it’s own thing.


He must’ve forgotten about it before he left the house. Thinking about a quick way to warm up, he pulled out his phone. Navigating through the small device was hardwired into his brain, and he swiftly went over to his contacts. When he got to where he wanted, his thumb hovered over a single name, Jessica. No nickname or anything. Jessica was his officially unofficial girlfriend.She was more of a sex friend than anything. Though they weren’t friends or lovers, their relationship was purely physical.


However, he started to get a bit disappointed when she didn’t answer. He figured then and there that something must’ve come up. Dialing a few more numbers, not other sex friends, he got the same response from each one. He looked at his phone with a confused look before heading into the kitchen. He thought that there must be something wrong with the communications services or something.


Opening the fridge, he surfed through its contents and let out a toothy grin when he found what he wanted. A ham sandwich. Was there anything special about this particular sandwich? The answer to that question is no. He was simply a foodie. Would you like to know the one of the only things in the world that can placate a foodie? It’s not that hard to guess but if you insist, the answer is food. Good food at that.


There was a reason why every foodie was a good cook. Even if the meal was something as simple as a ham sandwich, it was better if it was delicious. While occasionally munching on the sandwich, he went into the living room and sat down on his couch. It looked new, but he knew that it was much older than it looked. His parents bought it while he was in highschool and years later, it was still in top shape.


Grabbing the remote, he flipped the T.V on. Modern technology was so useful. He began to flip through channel after channel, looking for something interesting to watch. Unfortunately, nothing piqued his interest. He searched through every channel that didn’t require him to pay. He completely skipped over the news as usually, they weren’t really doing anything with important news.


Instead of reporting on something real and news-like, they went on and on about how this celebrity did this or that celebrity did that. It was quite annoying to be honest. This time however, he decided to chance it and flipped towards the news channel. Surprisingly, the news did pique his interest, the only problem was that it was a different type of interesting. He looked on slack-jawed as he tried to comprehend what was going on.


“These reported, undeads, have been surfacing all around the world over the past couple of hours. The death toll is in the thousand and seems to be growing with time. If you encounter one of these undeads, try not to be scratched or bitten as you will get infected as well.”


Listening to the newscaster, his stomach felt a little queasy at the prospect of zombies. This report can’t be serious. Zombies? What kind of fantasy book are they talking about? He wanted to call bullshit immediately but what was on the screen persuaded him not too. A chill ran down his spine as he thought of the possible outcomes of this situation.


One, he dies. Not an option that he would like to delve into. Two, he dies and becomes a zombie. This option was even more badly received than the last one if you can believe it. Three, he survives. This option sounded a lot more promising than the other ones to him. However, this wasn't exactly a situation he knew how to prepare for. How many people have dealt with zombies in their lives after all?


All he knew was that he had to either leave, or make his home a stronghold before any zombies came wandering in. He began rushing around the house looking for things to help him survive, searching for things that he thought of as ‘essentials’. That was 5 years ago. Now our protagonist is wandering the streets, looking for any food to eat.


Every day as a struggle, food become more and more scarce as time went on. From the start of the apocalypse until now, food reserves had dwindled immensely. Fresh food was something that he almost never had the pleasure of eating. It could be considered a delicacy if he managed to get some. However, now all he ate were scraps.


He began stumbling through street after street in search of something. Anything honestly. There were zombies in his surroundings but he didn’t care. His hunger was a more pressing matter that he had to deal with. If he didn’t get anything to eat, he would truly die soon. He saw a house with it’s door open and wandered in, going completely unnoticed by the zombies around him.


He scoured the house for any sign of food, and when he finally made found some, it was just scraps off the floor. However, he had to make due somehow. He knelt down and began eating the food on the floor. As he began eating, he let out a toothy grin. He could taste some leg in here, which just so happened to be one of his favorite parts. Oh? You didn’t know? Our dear main character here got turned into a zombie a long time ago. The one thing he kept with him through life and death was the fact that he was a foodie.

 

Spoiler: ”DHN”

The Axe Fiend. A man that had reached the pinnacle of martial arts. The amount of people that could contend with him could be counted without using a single hand. An evil appearance that pillaged, killed, and raped for his amusement. Passing through various cities, kingdoms, empires, and even sects and doing whatever he wanted. Killing everyone, including the women he had been with.


However, a single exception had been made. He had regretted that decision ever since he made it but he never went back to kill her. She was the sole person he left alive in that town, and that was going to be the greatest mistake he had ever made. That sole decision was going to be the death of him. Even after he retired from his evil ways, even after he went into seclusion, even after he separated himself from the world, some things would come back to bite him.

____________________

The town whore, that’s what they called her. That’s what they called his mother. He thought she deserved the title, but never spoke a word about it out of fear. He had just turned 9 but instead of getting a birthday party like some other kids, he was beaten and reminded that he was the biggest disappointment of her life. Times like now, where she was off servicing some fat, rich, pompous asshole were the only times he could have some peace.


He didn’t mind the annoying moans, unrelenting panting, or revolting smell that came from the other room. It was preferred compared to going outside. Not to say that he was a pervert or anything, but the women in this time hated his mother for being a whore, hated her for having her spend time with their men. They treated him like garbage because of it, but never treated his mother with any ill intentions.


Too many of the men in the town had been seduced by her, swindled into buying her body. Even the town lord bought her regularly, in fact he was the one in the room at this moment. So while they could bash on the boy all they wanted, no one wanted to incur the wrath of the town lord by hitting the mother. At first, it wasn’t that bad. Almost all of the women hated his mother, but few of them were going to use full force to hit a child.


However, the behavior of a mother rubs off on her children and when the other kids saw their mother’s hate, they joined in. Unlike their mothers though, the children regularly used anything to bleed the child. The cruelest people in the world were children, they were naive and didn’t think of any consequences. Especially since they never got punished for it. So the bullying gradually escalated to the point where he had multiple scars all over his body.


Oddly enough, they rarely scarred his face. Only a single time and it was only a small scar running down his cheek. It didn’t harm the boy’s look in any way. His mother could be considered beautiful, and although he never knew who his father was, he theorized that he was quite a good looking man too. After all, he could be considered good looking at such a young age, so having two good looking parents made sense.


He dreamed that one day, his real father would rescue him from this place. From this town, from his horrid mother. He knew that such a situation was almost never going to happen, but he still held his hopes. It was one of the only things that kept him going. In fact, it was the only other thing that kept him going besides his strong will to live. He didn’t know where it came from but dying seemed like something he would never want to do. Even after going through such torture from a young age.


A weak, thin young boy, all on his own. Malnourished, wounded, terrorised. He had a limp and one of his hands was oddly placed, no doubt from past inuries. He remembered when he was younger, it was better then. His mother still held the look of disgust when she looked at him, she still whored herself out to men, but she fed him at the very least. She gave him clothes, and a home. Now though, he lived in the same home, wore the same clothes that he’s had for the past couple of years, and scrounged food from garbage cans.


He barely grew over the past couple years, but he was still alive, and that was something he could be proud of. Even when his clothes were torn, even when he was beaten black and blue, even when he was hated by his mother, that sole thing was something he was proud of. He survived. He knew he couldn’t go on like this though and prepared. Prepared for his departure. Not much would change when he was gone, in fact he believed things would be better.


He could spite those old hags and young devils by taking away their source of stress relief. He would escape his mother, who would no doubt be pleased at his disappearance. And he would start a new life on the outside, one that he could control, one that he would build from the ground up. Leaving the house, the clear cold air assaulted the rags he called clothes. He didn’t carry a bag for he had no items to take.


Looking up at the night sky, filled with countless stars, he began his journey. Avoiding anyone he could see, he went step by step, outside the only thing he had ever known. Outside the only thing he had ever considered a home. How could he have known that life was so cruel? After travelling for a couple hours, he ate some poisonous mushrooms. After another 2 days of feeling horrible, he collapsed from hunger and fatigue. After sleeping and eating some familiar berries, he continued his journey.


Things were looking up for him, but he was wrong. After a week of surviving in the forest, he had various insect bites and was being chased by a pack of wolves. They weren’t even chasing him for food, but for fun. Such a small thing wouldn’t even be able to fill up one of their stomachs, why would they try to eat it? He was bitten, first in the arm and then the leg. He could no longer move as he laid there in the grass.


His eyes were dripping tears as he waited for his death, but the wolves lost interest and left. After a couple hours, he started to crawl in a direction. Clothes soaked in blood and sweat, he smelled worse than that room in his mother’s house. His only feeling of glee was that he heard some people speaking a small ways away and he shouted out towards them. However, his glee soon changed when those people turned out to be bandits.


They sized him up with malicious smiles and brought him back to camp. “What should we do with ‘im? Seems like a cute young boy, maybe we should break him in.” Fear dripped off the boy’s body as he heard those words. His only respite was the other man’s words, but that soon turned sour as well. “No. We’ll let the leader have the first taste.”


Both men laughed and the boy was left in tears as he was dragged along. After a few hours of traveling at a fast pace, the boy grew curious. Just how did they move so fast? His curiosity was something that temporarily soothed his fear and he clung to it like it was his last lifeline. “How are you guys so fast?” The two bandits looked at the kid and then looked back at each other but didn’t answer. Naturally, the boy grew even more curious despite the situation but any attempts at getting an answer were ignored. At one point, he asked and was directly smacked by one of the bandits, curbing his curiosity.


For the rest of the way, he was silent. When they made it to their destination, he was quite confused. It looked… well built. Completely unlike the disorganised hideout he had in mind. He was dragged inn, and the horror of bandits set in. Men were tortured and being burnt alive, women were being used to satisfy the bandits. There were even a few men used for that purpose. He saw an abundance of small orbs in a large container connected to a furnace large enough to fit a human.


In fact, there were a few humans in at that time. As they got deeper in, the boy began to feel more and more fear. At the deepest part, he saw multitudes of children being treated as slaves. Something that made him retch was the fact that some of the cuter children were being used to satisfy the needs of the bandits as well. Some children dressed in the bandit’s attire were doing what they pleased as well. Quite a horrid place. They entered a small room, and the two bandits that dragged him here immediately grew serious.


They brought their two arms up in a salute and simultaneously shouted, “Sir!”. The order of it all confused the boy. Since when were bandits this organised? Of course, his knowledge of the subject was limited to the stories so now that he saw it in real life, this would set his baseline between bandits, and a gang. Bandits being the more sophisticated group, while gangs were the groups that acted with no order. There was a single, tall man in the room biting an apple.


He had a fairly lanky build and the boy found it strange that he was the leader. He didn’t look the part at all, in fact, he looked like he could’ve been crushed by the two men that were currently at the boy’s side. If the boy was to use a single phrase to describe him, it would be ‘out of place’. He didn’t have a single scar, he looked like a clean cut person, and his calm face made it look like he was taking a stroll. All in all, he looked very strange in this place.


The leader looked at the three people and sized up the boy before nodding. “Feed him, let him clean himself, and take him to the medical division to heal him. Don’t play with him either.” The two bandits looked at each other with a dumbfounded expression and the leader rolled his eyes and an oppressive aura rolled off of him. “Do not make me repeat myself.” Shaking and sweating visibly, the two bandits dragged the boy out of the room and headed in another direction.


Without saying another word, they passed through another hallway and entered a room. Inside was a beautiful lady, but she didn’t look displeased in the slightest. “Doc, we have orders from the leader to get you to help this boy.” The lady stared at the two men with a disdainful gaze in her eyes, before switching over to the boy. She saw that he was malnourished and heavily wounded. Not so much the visible ones, but there were many things wrong with him on the inside. She saw all of this just from looking at him.


The way he stood, walked, moved. She nodded at the two men and the boy was left alone with the woman as they exited the door. Contrary to what he expected, she was fully clothed and looked quite dignified. The boy backed away a little and the woman only rolled her eyes and beckoned him to come to her. When she saw that he didn’t, she suddenly moved towards him at an incredible speed and grabbed him by the wrist.


At that point, the boy struggled all he could but couldn’t get away or leave even a white mark on her skin. Seeing that he was still uncooperative, she hit on the back of the head which elicited a scream from him. Throughout the entire process, she hadn’t made a single sound. A green glow surrounded her hand and the boy grew even more fearful. However, as the hand met his open wound, he stopped struggling and watched in awe as it closed.


When she was done, he looked at his arm in wonder. Next, she healed his leg and then the bump she had given him. He thought that was about done, and when he started to wonder why her hand was approaching his, she made contact and he let loose a guttural scream. She frowned at the sound and continued her weak, after breaking the bone, she set it and healed it. When the boy was done screaming, he collapsed on the floor and stared at his hand in awe.


No longer did it feel weak, no longer did it cause him pain when he knocked it into something. His awe was short lived when an even more intense pain was felt and he could hear a crack from his leg. He screamed from the pain again, but it was overcome by a feeling of warmth. As the sweat caused by the former pain fell off his brow, he saw the woman doing some odd motions. She put her hands at the bottom of her shirt, and pulled upwards. Of course she didn’t actually take off her clothes but it was what she was telling him to do, or showing in this case.


He looked at her bewildered, and she took at as if he didn’t know what she meant. She pointed at a small line over her threat and did a ‘can’t speak’ motion. He nodded and she once again did the cloth removal motion. The boy was still apprehensive and seeing it, she rolled her eyes and forcibly stripped the boy. Despite his reluctance, he knew he couldn’t stop her and let her do as she pleased.


When he was fully naked, she looked at his body and was stunned. There were burn marks and scars everywhere. Just about every place had at least one scar. Her eyes revealed some pity as a green glow encompassed her hand once more. She put her hand over one of the scars, and the boy felt some discomfort from the tingly feeling. She did this to everyone of his scars and although it took a couple minutes, every single one disappeared and the boy felt better than ever. Of course, he was still dirty and hungry but he was no longer in bad health.


All of his injuries were mystically healed, and the beautiful lady did it easily and barely broke a sweat. His apprehensions towards the lady disappeared along with her actions and he jumped around the room with glee. He was skinny and dirty, but he was no longer injured. In fact, this could have been considered his healthiest state since he was born. The kind lady offered him a small, sad smile before she patted him on the head and pointed towards the door.


He hesitated, but eventually walked out to meet the two escorts. His mood was visibly better but he still didn’t trust anyone here. The only reason he did what the woman said was because she healed him, and he had no way to resist in the first place. The two bandits led him through the hideout and he once again saw the horrid sights but he had prepared for them this time. He was still appalled by them, but he felt a strange numbness to the scenes. He felt that this numb indifference came from within his blood, but he had no proof.


The two bandits led him into a large room that had a bath. Surprisingly, it was empty, devoid of anyone. They pointed him in and showed him the soaps and let him be. Around 20 minutes later, the two bandits were starting to get annoyed at the time he was spending inside. He came out though, fully cleaned and he looked….. good. It was a first for him, being both clean and healthy. The two bandits looked at the boy’s transformation and greed appeared within their eyes.


To them, this kid would fetch a large price at the slave auction, but not wanting to anger their leader, they obediently followed his orders. Next, they led the child to the food halls. When the boy entered, although the taste of the food wasn’t amazing, it was still some of the highest quality food he had eaten. With a ravenous hunger, the boy swallowed bite after bite. When he finished, he had a satisfied look on his face and was led back to the leader of the hideout.


“Give him a room and let him stay.” A single sentence changed his life, a single sentence gave him a home, and although it couldn’t have been said to be the best place, the boy now had a place that he could return too. This place was indeed a place of evil, but to the boy, it was a gift from the heavens.

AN: I have no damn clue where I went with this……

 

Spoiler: ”IDEK”

Taking a deep breath, the boy entered the classroom and it got strangely silent. He could be described as quite good looking despite only being in 8th grade. Unfortunately, such a thing wasn’t something that aided him. He noticed that the classroom was lively as usual, and he quickly found his seat. He sat without his usual flair, in fact, his usual outgoing personality had stopped appearing for a matter of days already. He quickly saw his former friends looking at him around the room, unsure, confused. The entire classroom was, originally, on good terms with him and everyone saw him as their friend.


His personality and kindness served to only increase other’s good will towards him. On top of that, he made no distinctions between anyone and had a strong sense of morals. Any such person would be greatly liked by many people, and his classmates were no exception. However, they had noticed that he started to act strange after school yesterday, but when they asked about it, he had pushed them away. Since then, their attempts of interacting with him had been met with silence, until finally, their attempts stopped. They didn’t attempt to ostracise him after that, but inevitably, it was what happened.


Now, they could only wonder what went wrong from afar. At the sound of the door opening, the kids hurriedly sat in their seats and particularly, the male students perked up. At least, almost all of them did. The boy who was now alone had gained a pale countenance at the sound of the teacher entering the room. The aforementioned teacher was a woman, but she was quite beautiful, arousing many of the boy’s interests despite the ring on her finger. She never went out of her way to accent her appearance and only wore conservative clothing to class, painting the picture of a loyal wife.


This didn’t serve to ward off any of the boys in the classroom though, in fact, it did the opposite. However, with a stern tone, she rejected each one. How could these 13 year old boys peak her interest in the slightest way after all? They were her students, they were underage, and on top of that, she was married. However, there was a single boy in the class that couldn’t look her in the eye as he looked down with a pale face, the formerly social boy. He was never lie the other boys that stared at the woman, he treated her with respect, or at the least, he used too.


Now though, he couldn’t even seem to look at her. Despite this, the session proceeded as usual. It was the last period of the day and all the students were eager to leave. When the bell finally rung though, none of the kids moved an inch. The teacher became silent and surveyed the room, before finally telling them they could leave. At the words, a single boy tried to leave with extreme haste but his efforts were stopped as the teacher called his name, telling him to stay after class.


The boy’s pale face only grew more pallid and panicked at the declaration, he quickly thought up an excuse and tried to use it but the teacher would not take it. She ordered him to stay behind and with a shaky stance, he did. His other classmates noticed this and whispers flew around from mouth to mouth, wild rumors sprouting wildly. It couldn’t be helped, his way of handling the situation was extremely poor. The boy stared at the ground whilst the teacher looked at him, and when the final student left the room and the sound of the door shutting was heard, only silence was left behind.


When the boy heard the sound of heels clacking against the floor, coming closer one step at a time, he balled his fists but stayed silent. A hand rested on his arm and he stilled instantly, like a deer in headlights. If he looked up, he would see that the teacher had a glint in her eyes. Her hand slowly slipped down lower and lower, until she finally grasped his genitals and she started to play with them. (I don’t know another word that would fit here…… outright saying dick and ballz just sounds weird. Also, I don't know how to really deliver this so it’s pretty awk)


The boy just stood silent and pale, not moving an inch. The only movement was the blood flowing through his veins, and the natural response he would have to such stimulation. Still, he stood motionless, like a statue. After a couple seconds, the teacher stopped and told the boy he was free to go. With balled up fists, the boy calmly found his way out the door, but immediately bolted to the bathrooms. He made a dash for the toilet, and with lifeless eyes, puked. Even after it got to the point where nothing came out, he continued to dry heave.


When he finished, he put his head in his arms and sat for what seemed like forever. No one would be here to pick him up, he walked home every day because both his parents were at work. He had no siblings to confide in either. Word got out that he was having sex with his teacher and although they were only rumors, to his relief, the teacher was fired. Someone claimed they witnessed it two days prior, but only said something now. He thought that he could live his school days in peace, but he was wrong.


Students approached him and asked about it, the girls curious, and the guys being guys. ‘It must have been great’ ‘Dude, you’re so lucky!’ and ‘How do you feel about it?’ were phrases that commonly entered his ears. His stress accumulated, until one day, he told them the truth. The teacher raped him, and continued taking liberties with him after that. He hated it, it sickened him, there were only negative emotions because of it. Of course, such comments only served for him to be insulted.


Faggot was a common insult, along with phrases like, ‘It was wasted on you’ or something similar to that. He couldn’t take the harassment so he put on a facade. He said anything that would get them off his back. ‘Just kidding’ ‘It was great’ ‘It was rape but I enjoyed it’. It had gotten to the point where he went as far as to try and convince himself. He had felt bodily pleasure, so of course it wasn’t rape. He wanted it, he must have. He was a willing participant, he never went against what she wanted, so he must’ve wanted it deep down. Even if every fiber of his mind wanted to scream and cry.


When the child molestation was proved to be true, he got a caseworker. Of course, he told her the same things he told his ‘friends’. It wasn’t rape, or true rape anyway. It was completely consensual, and whenever she told him that it was wrong, he got agitated. There was worry in the caseworker’s mind. Once, she tried to put him on the back, but as soon as her hand came into contact with him, he jumped away and started panting in fear. His face was pale, and lined with beads of sweat. It was at this point, that she decided she wasn’t the one for this job, she made an effort to switch cases with a man. She felt that at least the boy wouldn’t be afraid of her that way.


The boy was much more comfortable with his caseworker being a male, and opened up slightly. However, to the man’s dismay, the boy continuously insisted that it was consensual and whenever he tried to press on the topic, the boy went mute. One day, the boy came home from school and entered the kitchen to make himself some lunch. A tuna sandwich, something that had been with him since childhood. Comfort food, as some would call it. He grabbed a glass of water and walked towards the living room before turning on the tv and flipping to the news.


It was a habit, but what he saw made him lose his appetite. It seemed that some female eighth grader was raped by one of her teachers, and she was on tv crying her heart out. The boy’s hands clenched after he set his sandwich down. When people offered their heartfelt concern and and worries, the boy’s hands started to bleed. Picking up the remote, he stared at it for a second, before shouting loudly and he threw it at the screen.


As expected, the tv screen cracked and the picture was lost, the only sound in the house were muffled sobs. After a couple minutes, the boy went to the kitchen again and opened the drawers. Picking out a knife, he went over to the bathroom and ran the bath water. When it got full to a certain point, he stopped the flow and entered the water. It was warm, and served to calm him slightly. He looked at the knife in hand and pressed it to his wrist, but as soon as a thin line of blood appeared, the knife was put on the floor.


He sat with the water running and looked up to the ceiling with tears in his eyes. He supported his head with his arms despite the pain in his wrist as he looked around the bathroom. Sniffles could be heard from behind the doors, which was soon followed by a light sorrow filled laughter. A couple minutes later, and the sounds of someone coughing up their stomach was heard. He had come to face the reality of the situation, he was raped. He didn’t like it, he didn’t want it, and he was by no means stronger for admitting so.


He grew more solitary in the years to come, and he visibly shook whenever a girl entered his sights. During one night, he picked up a piece of paper and a pen and started to write every ounce of his feelings onto the paper. It had been three years since his rape, and this was the first time his feelings came to light. Neatly folding the paper, he set it on his desk and thought about that news show he had watched years ago. He broke the tv after watching it, anger filled at the difference in treatment.


He was ridiculed for not liking it, while she was comforted because of the event. Hers was a big deal that made it into the news, inciting pity from a countless amount of people, while few people even bothered to care about his circumstances. When it was her, she was given the proper help, pity, comfort, and treatment. When it happened to him, he was ridiculed, laughed at, insulted. It all felt so distant now that he thought about it. As he stepped onto the stool he brought into his room, and placed his neck in the rope ring he hung up, he felt strangely calm. Even when he kicked the stool out of the way, he made no attempts to struggle. At 16 years old, he was found dead in his room, hanging from a noose.


His letter was found the next morning by his parents who mourned his death. No friends were present at his funeral, only family and his two caseworkers who were filled with guilt. No news coverage that a boy had been bullied, raped, and then killed himself. No acknowledgement from any other people. There was no one else who would remember him because of the event, no one else who thought about what he was going through, no one else who really cared about what he felt.


(Dont know how to end it…. *shrug* I dont find this as a particularly sad story but meh)

(Brought to you by me, bored and just watched this video -->)

 

Spoiler: ”Shit happens”

Clangs of metal resounded throughout the air followed by wisps of flame and smoke. Common soldiers warring on the ground below, cultivators fighting the war above. Two of the cultivators faced each other but made no movements. When the battle seemed to reach it’s climax, the two unsheathed their weapons, the one on the left holding a sword while the one on the right held a spear. Two unsurmountable auras exploded from both sides, neither giving the other any way.


An aura of water surrounded the sword while prongs of flame surrounded the spear. Both sides unleashed a massive warcry and sped towards each other, splitting the wind apart with each movement. They easily outpaced the rest of the troops and the clanging of metal was like thunderclaps, shaking the sky.


The battle raged on for hours, with neither person nor army gaining a slight advantage. The two cultivators continued their fight even though they were covered in cuts, scrapes, and blood. The sword cultivator had one of his arms go limp while the spear cultivator had one eye closed, a bleeding slit covered his eye lid. They backed up and repositioned their weapons, both of them exploding with auras that outclassed the ones they had before.


Both of them were calm, unnerved at the prospect of death. Their bodies tensed slightly and they disappeared from sight, reappearing next to each other, each disregarding defense and going for the kill. Loud roars came from their mouths and just when their weapons were about to connect, the vision cut into the name of the new virtual reality game.


Continuum Online


The only game that brought the fullest experience of the past, to the future. Yes, cultivation had existed in the past, this was a fact. However, for some unknown reason, the Qi began to disappear from the world. Cultivators who required the Qi, became no less than normal people. Powers were stripped from them, even the immortal cultivators were powerless after the change. They began to age, the Qi no longer keeping them in an immortal state.


The commoners took the world, power was no longer the sole factor in ruling. However, just about everyone wanted to go back to the previous world. Thus, an era of technology washed throughout the world. Years later, and virtual reality had been created. That was roughly 50 years ago, and now everything is a bit more complicated. Virtual worlds saturated with Qi were hot on the net.


You could cultivate, just like your ancestors. Who wouldn’t want that? Unlike the past, everybody could be a cultivator. Of course that was in the game only, so many decided to upload their mind into the game, forever living there as cultivators. The downside to that though, was the fact that they only got one life to live. Many considered this to be a reasonable trade but some decided to continue living in the real world.


Technology had progressed to the point where even if all humans assimilated into the virtual world, everything outside would run smoothly. The game would run without any problems, new unseen content would be generated. There had already been a multitude of planets and galaxies discovered in the game that made those both inside and out astonished with the technological marvel.


As far as anyone knew, the game carried an unlimited amount of space, like a universe. On top of that, new things were added each passing moment so it was as if everything was real. You could have children inside the game. They would be like children, each one with their own unique dna pattern. Everything artificial was real, and thus the lines between the real and virtual blurred. After all, entering into the game was an experience unlike any other.


Many people roamed the game, or was it reality? Nobody could tell any longer. No one cared. Both worlds were theirs to roam. A long lost past had been recreated and everyone wanted a piece of it. Families assimilated into the game and founded powerful sects. Solo players entered the game and became renowned legends. A child could enter the game, age, kill, do anything they pleased. They could claw their way to power with schemes or any other medium.


This entire game was unlike any other. It was real, not translucent. It was promising, not hopeless. It was as if the game was simply a portal to a different world.

 

*posts just to annoy*

 

*Personal 1st place* (subject to change)

Spoiler: ”Birth”

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. The sounds of footwear hitting the floor time and time again were the only things illuminating the silent atmosphere. Through the trees and bushes, a single boy could be found holding a single seed. He was dressed in taoist attire and had prayer beads wrapped around his hands. A calm expression could be found lurking on the boy’s face as he walked through the silent forest, continuing on the beaten path. Somewhere along the way though, he stopped and looked up to the sky.


A deep contemplative look could be seen on his face as he turned to the side, and walked off the beaten-path. He walked through the dirt, water, and mud, but strangely, not a single one of those stuck to his clothing. He came upon a near empty lot, devoid of trees, only filled by grass and earth. Seeing this strange occurrence, a light frown deepened the boy’s eyebrows. He made his way into the strange occurrence and his eyes widened as he stood in shock.


A grin came to his face as he set the seed aside and started digging in the dirt. Not too long afterwards, a hole about two fingers wide was created. Taking the seed, he carefully placed it inside the hole before covering it back up with dirt. Feeling pleased with his actions, a warm smile came to the boy’s lips as he stood back up and started practicing the forms he was taught since birth. Minutes passed by as the forms became more and more elegant, seamlessly integrating the boy into a part of the world.


His presence disappeared as he became one with world during his movements, however, after about 15 minutes, a faint light could be seen in the boy’s eyes as his moves became more aggressive. While keeping the elegance of the slow movements from before, an aura of majesty whirled around him as the wind started to pick up in the surroundings as well. His movements seemed to blend into and spur on nature, as the grass began swaying to his movements and the wind was blowing softly with an ethereal grace.


In the middle of all this, was the boy and the dirt patch on the floor, where the seed was planted. Time passed quickly and before the boy had even known it, his movements came to an end and the natural elements came to a still with him. The boy’s presence had come back and he looked to his surroundings with a fondness that was akin to as if the boy was looking at his most closely related family. Making slow movements, the boy sat down and repeated his taoist scriptures time and time again.


It was unknown how much time had passed, but when the boy finally left, the sky was finally turning dark. The next day, the boy came once more with the exception that this time, he came with some packed food. Much like the day before, the boy went through the forms and meditated, but also threw in some Qigong practice into the mix before leaving. He came once more the next day, and the next day, and the next day after that. Time passed quickly and soon, the small seed had grown into a small tree.


It was not grown all the way yet, but it was making steady progress. The boy, now someone who had just become an adult, had visited once again. This time, he came with a few wooden spikes and some interlocking papers. Around the tree, he planted each spike an equal distance away from each other before tying on the paper and interlocking every single spike, so it cordoned off the tree. Once he finished, he started to meditate, but the session lasted no longer than 10 minutes.


Afterwards, he once more started to go through the forms. When he first started doing them here, nature followed his movements and it was a scene of majesty. By now though, nature seemed to take the initiative and the resulting scene was like a finely painted picture that would last for millennia. Once the boy, now man, had finished, he once again left like any other day. As more and more time passed, the boy, had grown into an old man. With shaky steps, he walked along the path he had committed to memory over the years and came upon a clearing with a single, magnificent tree in the middle.


It reached far higher than those in the surroundings and comparatively looked much more energetic. A smile crossed the man’s face as he passed the cordoned off area he had built so long ago. Sitting down next to the tree as if it was an old friend, he laid on it with utter calmness. Seconds turned to minutes, which soon turned to hours as he sat in silence, contemplating his life. His eyes started to grow weak, and once he closed them, it wasn’t long before his breathing stopped with his heartbeat stilling as well.


The wind picked up and started blowing things in a rage while the grass churned in sadness. Dark clouds filled the sky and the sounds of thunder were accompanied by raindrops. The tree that the man lay on however, was still. It was as energetic as before as a single leaf, drifted from its sea of green. It seemed unperturbed by the raging winds, the water from the skies had no affect on it as it slowly drifted down. After a few seconds, it landed on the old man’s hands.


A bolt of lightning then struck down from the heavens, crashing violently into the tree. However, the tree did not burst into flames. On the contrary, it started to glow a deep yellow. The spikes and paper the man had put up only seemed to boost the glow even further into illumination and nature stilled once more. However, the ground started to rumble as the tree’s roots were uprooted, seemingly fusing back into the tree.


The tree continued to morph smaller and smaller, changing it’s form, but it always kept the man’s body in a peaceful state. After a while, the tree was gone, replaced by a handsome man with sparkling green eyes. He sat down and gently rested his hand on the old man’s forehead. Looking up to the sky, he released a small smile but the single tear that dripped down his face was noticeable. Nature turned silent in that moment. If the one he had planted and cared for since childhood could remain in a state of calm sadness, then nature wouldn’t kick up a storm.


Cloth materialised on the man in seconds as he sat in silence. he gave one last look at the old man’s body before standing up, but he noticed a small bump on the side of the old man’s waist. He took it from the old man and knew it to be a sword. The old man had frequently practiced with it over the years and the man had put it back in it’s scabbard. Tying it to his waist, he looked up at the sky with a hint of gratitude before he started digging a hole. Hours passed and soon, a hole big enough to fit a person was built.


The man lifted the old man’s body with ease and placed it inside before covering him with dirt once more. He had dedicated his life to nature, he would no doubt want to dedicate his death to it as well. As the man stood after he finished the deed, he started reciting the scriptures the old man had repeated throughout the years. Hearing his words, the grass dropped down in melancholy and the wind was but a soft breeze that blew through the lands.


A peculiar spark found it’s way into the man’s eyes after he finished reciting the scriptures. He bowed once towards the grave, and left. His journey would start from here, a long road that seemed to never end. However, his roots remained here, where he was planted, where he was nurtured, and where that boy had grown into an old man.


AN: Went thru and found Sun Wukong’s origin of being a rock that practiced the tao or whatever

DONE uploading the ones already made
____________________

 

show this to your brother. No way he won't think you're a virgin then

 

<>_<> he knows already....

 

these are pretty good *thumbs up*

 

>_> I suggest readingthe first two..... the fourth one.... then the last one...... and ignore the rest

 

some where fueled by drugs desu~

 

No real reason to :T
Doesnt matter if they comment there or down here

 

Tch, Savage Loli Oly