Time

Time

The day that he died was the day that the day that the ocean wept for him, the waves thrashed and beat against the surf. All the beings dwelling within those waves wept. The week after he had died, the skies poured with an endless rain that never seemed to cease, the skies had become as black as soot and the rain that had been pouring down struck the ground with the force of a meteor striking the earth again and again. The birds cried out their song of mourning, but the rains continued. Pouring like tears that would never stop flowing. Months after he died, the earth itself was wracked with sobs, the ground cracking open heat seething out between those cracks. Lava poured out in droves, catching fire to anything that crossed its path. The screams of the dying animals wailed out as one last siren of the end of days before all went silent. Years after he had died, the earth burned.

As you stepped out onto your front porch, huffing at how bright the early morning sun was, you paused. Sitting on your front step was a large parcel, addressed to you. You couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps you had a new mailman, as the usual one refused to make the difficult trip up your drive to deliver anything, instead leaving it at the entrance to your driveway, in the drop box. Not that you blamed him. It was funny that you hadn’t heard the truck though.

Letting out a thoughtful hum, you set down your mug and fished around in your hoodie pockets, pulling out a knife and starting to cut it open, while trying to figure out what it was you had ordered. You couldn’t remember ordering anything lately, and no one ever sent you things. Maybe you had just forgotten?

A childish cheer escaped you as you managed to undo the box, opening it up and poking around. All joy faded swiftly as you saw what was inside, anxiety and confusion taking its place. You knew exactly what those jewels were, how couldn’t you? They were all over the news. Everyone was freaking out about the impossible theft.

Shakily you looked at the top of the box again, shivering as you saw that it really was addressed to you. Why you?

Writing Prompt

After mastering lucid dreaming you find you have complete control over other people’s dreams too. You can choose what they dream of down to the tiniest detail and even join them without them realizing you’re actually real. Their subconscious is your playground. Hope they were nice to you.

Tag your responses with #wordsnstuff // Ko-Fi

Sorry for this, reiterating, story or dialogue prompts(whichever you like to do more) about a small country’s revolution with spies and the like. No pressure or anything! Have a nice day!

Now you’re making me want to read your story! Well, if you’re okay with a mix of formats, here goes:

- All the roads to the location of the emergency political meeting are closed off, the air is watched by drones, and a full suit of trained guards patrol the Freedom bridge that spans across the political district. The only way in free from surveillance? The underside of the bridge, and a bone-shattering drop.

- “Council, bad news! Prince Shemavri was at their war meeting!“ From the back of the hall, a uniformed figure adorned with a crown separates itself from the rest of the council members and slips quietly through the door.

- “They deported us to this island for criticizing them. If they decided it would be a good idea to group all the rebels together, they well deserve the consequences.“

- A leader, a thinker, a criticizer; the front figure of the revolution has everything. Yes, she literally has everything, because she’s also the supreme ruler of their nation.

- Three double agents are sent on a mission together to infiltrate a suspected base.None of them knows that the others are spies for the ones they’re spying on, too.

- “Don’t be naïve. People know, they suspect and whisper yet nothing changes. Showing people the truth won’t end this regime. So we show them the lie.“

Hope this was what you had in mind, and you have a nice day too!

- Mod C

@gayminhoboi: ..feelings inside. 

(A) gets in a bad accident, and (B) rushes to the hospital. When (A) shows (B) the scars, (B) notices the tattoo. It is exactly like (B)’s.  

//The plot gets more deep, but yeah. There’s one of my many ideas. 😆//

Oh my gosh, that works either way around and the feels are too much!

When you start to stir this morning, you cant help but wonder if you’re having a particularly odd dream, the stats hovering behind your eyelids, making that the only real conclusion. Opening your eyes and blinking a few times, you frown in confusion. Hanging before you in the air, are the same set of stats you could see with your eyes closed. They seem to be gaming stats of some sort, something that confuses you since, whilst you enjoy them, you rarely get the time to play them anymore, so you generally don’t dream about them. Sitting up in bed, you find the stats following you easily, somehow not obscuring your vision. You’re still convinced this might be some kind of weird dream, despite the cold slowly seeping into your feet, now that they are touching the floor. With a sigh, you try to pay attention to the stats again, deciding that you may as well fuck around with them, since its just a dream. 

Over the course of the morning, you mess with all of your stats, finding you can move them around with a brief thought. To your surprise, and delight, they seem to work, but as the day wears on, you start to realise that this might not be a dream after all. 

As you sit there, absently using your increased strength to open that jar you’ve been trying to crack into all week, you contemplate what this might mean for you. Is it permanent? How far reaching can you make this? What will you do with this kind of power? Already you’ve used your charisma to convince the crabby old landlord to give you a few more days to pay rent, a usually impossible task. You’ve used your luck and found a hundred dollars stuck in a hedge outside, and you used your intelligence stats to finish the essay that you had been stuck on all week, because you forgot all the subject matter. Luckily, no one else seems to see the small window of stats. You even figured out how to make the little window fold away to one side, almost invisible, if you weren’t already aware it was there.

A soft hiss of air interrupts your thoughts, the jar opening with surprising ease. Suddenly, your stats glow brightly the numbers increasing on each and the small letters above the stats finally draw your eyes up,something you hadn’t really paid attention to until now. You watch as the simple “Level: 1″ slowly shifts to “Level: 2″, and it dawns on you that this might just be the beginning.