One of them went to sleep and still hasn’t woken up. It’s been two days…

It was easy.

When I say I found it easy to kill the person I loved most, I am not heartless. I do not lack love nor am I happy to kill anyone. I simply ended up in just the right circumstance for this final test, because the man I loved most was my father.

And what a love it was. I remember growing up I would constantly switch back and forth between idolizing and hating him, declaring every time he hurt me that I would leave him behind forever only to change my mind the moment he smiled. God, what a horribly beautiful smile.

I hold all these memories of him, back and forth as time passes. He teaches me to swim, splashing in the water and giggling together as we floated. He yells at little me for not walking fast enough. He gives me his favorite books. He hits me for a reason I can’t recall. He writes with me at the kitchen table. He rips my door off of its hinges.

Again and again and again. Memory after memory. A beautiful, kind, loving father. A bitter, abusive bastard.

He was the man I loved the most. And the one I hated most too.

I hope you understand now why it was easy for me to kill him.

I was okay with the "my hole" story but the one about people having really long dreams haunts me to this day. I think it's called Nagai Yume.

Same here. I can't read Junji Ito, it's too much

"It's because you've only read the first page, dumbass. I showed you stuff 3/4 of the way through"

include the line: The birds haven't scattered yet.

"How much do you need? Hours? Days? Weeks?"

I chuckled at the appropriately time-old joke as she led me to the kitchen. Her house was open concept, and rather than a TV her living room was occupied with a long fold-out table covered in art supplies. She still had a couch. Gotta be comfortable when making art, I suppose.

"Just enough thyme for supper," I responded as she reached the light-colored cabinets of her kitchen. Plates and snacks lightly scattered, otherwise clean, it didn't look too different from my own. Looks like she's well settled in, even if we don't quite know each other very well yet. I hope that changes. It's been a while since I've painted.

She measured out some thyme for me, confirming I had what I needed, then placed it in a little baggy - we both laughed - and handed it over.

"You'd be welcome to come over for supper if you'd like. With the last ingredient," I held up the bag, "there's more than enough for one more person."

She smiled. "I'll think about it. When are you having supper?"

"Just in an hour or so. I can let you know."

"That'd be wonderful. Thank you."

"Of course! Always great to get to know people around the neighborhood. And you got the thyme, after all, be almost unfair if you don't get to eat it."

She laughed at that, and we walked back out toward the front door and said so long, see you at supper.

As I walked back to my house, the air felt a little less chilly.

Good words, Astro! This is awesome. The piece flows really well and I love the language used in sentences like "The harvest festival will get another guest" and "No more easy path, but he will not concern himself with them". The descriptions of environment also really work to ground it while simultaneously reflecting Ackley's feelings, especially in that last paragraph.

There's a couple specific spots that felt a bit weird. The portion near the beginning where it says "One of the links breaks. With all of his spite, he pulls with his leg until it breaks." felt a bit repetitive in the language (repeating 'breaks') and also left me a bit confused as to what happened. I wasn't sure whether he broke the chain or his leg, especially since one of the links had already broken.

This might just be a me thing, but Caldwell's "Can you forgive us" felt maybe a bit too abrupt? It probably would have felt more natural to me if he had been a bit more defensive at first, or even just said some form of sorry before asking for forgiveness, even if insincere.

Also I think you meant "soul" instead of "sole" in "villagers teasing the unlucky sole who had to interact" in the first paragraph.

Overall, really love this piece! I'm a sucker for a good escape/revenge story (The Count of Monte Cristo is my favorite book), and this built up the story and the world really well. Good words!

Good words, Haru! Loved your piece. The dialogue really carries it along.. And of course you had to make it emotional at the end 😭

One thing I think editing could really improve is tenses. This is evident in a few places where you switch between past and present, like "I wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving with my mom ... I want to make things right." You also use "would" in a few places, like "I would walk to the front door and open it" and "I would notice that I was alone", and I think the sentences would (ha) be better without it. The would kinda makes it seem uncertain, like this is something the character isn't actually doing but thinking about doing.

I'd also love to have more context into this character's life and what they're going through with their mom. We get a good sense of how they're feeling that day, but I'd like to have a little bit more into maybe why or how long it's been like this for them. Not a requirement (and I know wordcount is limited), but you got me interested.

Overall, awesome job! These snapshots throughout the day work well I think in developing the story and packing a punch. Good words!

Please don’t make me go home.

Today has been freedom. A beautiful day with beautiful people. A celebration of identity not in some party or special day but in the simple acts of being accepted, the simple “River”s and “ae/aer”s and inclusion.

My favorite part of today was the ferris wheel, because normally I’m scared of heights. But I went with Shruti and she showed me how to look out at the horizon. She took my hand and rubbed it across the carpet of trees in the distance, and all of a sudden I wasn’t a small body up way too high but was a giant crouched down low, and it felt way better.

Though it was a bit too bright and hot at first, the sun faded as the day went on. I saw the shadows move up and up and up the rollercoasters until they were covered. Fareeha pointed out that one of them had looked pink in the daylight but looked purple as the sun set, and I started to see colors all around me. The colors had always been there, but I hadn’t been seeing them.

And if I have to go home I won’t get to see colors again. I will never be a giant, just a small, fragile body. Powerless. Tiny.

It’s just about night now and I’m back on the ferris wheel, this time alone. The sky is purple with low pink clouds and loud orange fireworks from somewhere else in the park. The trees in the distance are soft with darkness. But I don’t feel any of it.

I am haunted by a sense of dread, and it isn’t from the heights.

I peer over the edge of my seat as it approaches the top. I feel dizzy.

I would die if I fell from here, wouldn’t I?

Cyberpunk Frankenstein who experiments on themself

You don’t remember them. Fuck you can barely remember what you did yesterday

I decided to jump.

She closed her eyes and felt wind press the fabric against her back.

Ruby decides to teach some people a lesson after they hurt her friend.

Whatever happened to creative freedom? We all know these prompts are too limiting and overspecific

The day was short and the night was long

I knew who my spirit guide would be by the time came.

There were only two I had ever lost, both within the past year. One was likely to become a guide for her own family, so that left my grandmother. The one family member I missed once she was gone. The one I wished I had known more, rather than less.

Even as I looked forward to the stories she would tell, to the things I’d have the chance to say, I was terrified. I wanted to know her more. But what if I ended up feeling the opposite? Or worse, I revealed myself to be a total mess not worthy of anything better than the rest of my family, the shit ones?

I knew one thing for sure. When the day came and I turned sixteen, I had to be alone.

So here I was at midnight, sitting out on the old swing in our backyard. My favorite escape-place. Eyes resting on the knots of one of our trees, shaped to look like a face. If I stared at the tree I wouldn’t have to make eye contact with her right away, not until I was ready.

But - oh god - my thoughts began to churn.

I had kept my mind forcefully silent all day in anticipation, knowing my own anxieties. But unexpected thoughts rolled in that I didn’t have a prepared defense against. After all, a spirit guide can be anyone and anything. Dead pets. That one bird you used to feed. And trees are alive, right? What’s to say this tree isn’t the spirit guide?

And if the tree is the spirit guide then you’ll truly have nothing and no one, because trees can’t speak. They can’t stay by your side or float in ghostly human form chatting and offering advice. They’re trees.

But it might well be it. Heck, I should give up now, this is certain. It must be. When have I ever confided in grandma? I barely got to see her. There was so much I didn’t know about her, she didn’t know about me. And she was so kind to so many people, the chances of her being my spirit guide are so low. This tree is in my favorite escape-place. It’s listened to countless songs and rants, sat next to me as I watched the road and listened to the crickets at night. Sat next to me as I cried, terrified to go back inside. I’m still terrified to go inside. Every time I leave the house I want to stay away, I don’t want to go home again. But there’s nowhere for me to go, no one who will listen. Fuck, my own spirit guide is probably just this stupid tree because I think it looks like it has a face on it.

The grass crunched. I froze.

Someone’s here. And it’s not the damn tree, the tree isn’t moving, which probably means someone’s come out to see my spirit guide. Even this moment I can’t be alone.

Unless.

Don’t hope. But unless.

I turned around on the swing, and my breath caught in my throat.

There she was.

Grandma welcomed me into her arms, and I could breathe again.

It was a long day.

“Take us to church” is the BEST last line for this hahaha

I'm sure you can just send a modmail, on desktop that's the "message the mods" button on the sidebar

Character A is fully in denial and character B sees it and thinks it's cute

Any magic performed directly on the body is likely to have side effects which cannot be accurately predicted and tend to be harmful.