Challenge #02376-F186: So Walks a Spider
Imagine if the Old Pagan gods still walked among us. But the stories from their point of view were slightly different.. and they were only made into gods because of storytellers…
I.E.
Odin: “I started my existence as an ordinary man, and lived a fairly uneventful first life. Then my wife passed and I became lonely so I started to look after all the local lost and orphaned children. The bards started to sing of my generosity far and wide until more and more children started to arrive. That is how I first got the moniker of All-father…” – Adam In Darwin
I Am. I was. What used to be and what is have become a blur, but on good days, I remember. I was… a story. A cunning rabbit. A smart spider. The spider becomes the rabbit and the rabbit becomes the spider and the trickster once had a name. Once had a mother. Once had a home and a family and a life and…
Call me Peter, for now. That is both the name of a spider and a rabbit, as I recall. It is hard to recall. There have been centuries. Years beyond counting. Years beyond recorded history. Years before the time I was a collection of stories. Years… before they believed in me. Years before they called me Brother Rabbit. Years before they called me the spider man…
I was… I was a clever boy who made… cord. String. Rope, sometimes, out of the long grasses. Coils and coils of it. Strong rope, strong cord, too. I was not strong, but the cords I made were. They could hold great beasts many times my size, I remember… the python. It was sleeping by a log and I made a clever series of knots that tied a lot of its length to the wood. When I ran out of wood, but there was still more python, I found more logs. Three of them, not the number the stories say. No python is that long. I did not bargain it into the trap, of course not. Animals do not talk.
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Challenge #02043-E219: Through th' Crack's Mirror — Steemit
Tyr Na'Nog tells stories of Humans. Legends. Tales of the Old Times when the Xenophobia Wars raged and these magic-less apes were the most dangerous creature in the world of many. They had short lives, but they learned fast. They learned from the worst of things that happened, and grew unbelievably strong. They bred fast. They made tools that could work as well as magic.
Some say that the Gods made Humans as a joke. And like so many jokes, they were unintentionally painful. They could not unmake what they had made. They could not eliminate Humans completely from the world. So all the intelligent creatures, large and small, banded together. A type of Pax Humanis. Dragons worked with Dwarves. Elves worked with Gnomes. Centaurs and Gryphons and Faeries grouped their skills.
Together, they made a door. And washed the Humans through it in a gigantic flood. So the stories say. Tan'reath found it unlikely that such creatures existed, and had the gall to doubt his teacher openly. That was when Ul'daath the Wise took him to the Library of Horrors. Where the Mirror to the Otherworld rested.
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Challenge #01988-E164: Here Comes Trouble — Steemit
Hathreon followed the Crowley School of low-grade evil. From little annoyances, big cruelties grow. The demon could count overpriced, slow coffee, constant urban renovations, and the kind of people who insist on going into the backs of crowded elevators when they’re only riding one floor. Someone else beat hir to the kids that press every button on the elevator control panels.
Today is the day that the right demon with the right philosophy ticked off the wrong person. Most humans will, when confronted with a bad mood, spread it around to everyone in their aura. Thus having a ripple effect that can, in certain circumstances, turn into a tsunami of vileness.
But not all humans…
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Challenge #01954-E130: Surrogacy of the Beast — Steemit
“Now. Mister… Scratch,” said the lawyer. “I understand that you wish this particular event to proceed, but my client wishes to have some… guarantees.”
Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies, Angel of Lies, the Fallen, Monarch of Hell, Lucifer, or, as he was currently known, Old Scratch, templed his fingers and said, “A deal is a deal.”
“Under false pretences,” said the lawyer. “My client had no idea that they would be giving birth to the antichrist.”
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Challenge #01948-E124: Who's a Good Dog? — Steemit
In all of creation, there is nothing more loyal than a good dog. Though it was widely agreed that Kerby was one of the truly daft ones. He was a rescue dog, and had some kind of skin infection that made him look dead. Dan, who had picked him up with a shovel as part of his job, got the fright of his life when what he assumed was a corpse woke up and hopped off to start fawning in his general direction.
Kerby, a pun on Kerberos, which in turn was the correct spelling of Cerberus, got his name as a joke. Even the vet said that this hound must have escaped from Hell. But he was the sweetest little angel and everyone’s friend for a bite of hotdog and a pat. He was a living reminder for the Animal Cleanup Crew to check for a heartbeat before flinging a body into the back of the ute. And he was credited with the saving of fifteen far more telegenic animals.
The press nicknamed Kerby the “Zombie Dog”. Especially after he got run over. Twice. And bounced back with minor injuries and an undaunted attitude. Though Dan religiously treated Kerby’s skin with the recommended lotions, bathed him carefully, and fed him the recommended diet, there was nothing that impacted Kerby’s decayed-looking skin, or that would remedy the Smell. Dan and his Cleanup Crew just dealt with it and hung air fresheners from his collar. And gave him a dog-sized jacket that read I ain’t dead (yet).
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Challenge #01880-E056: Truly Heavenly? — Steemit
Everyone knows that Hell is circular. This is because the sins come around to bite a soul on the arse. One way or another. What is less known is that Heaven is a cube. It is full of Angels, a Dragon, and a certain number of virgins chanting “Glory, Glory, Glory,” forever. It’s in the Bible. Look it up. According to the scripture, it is eternal worship, or eternal pain. For the remainder of existence.
The sprits who are deemed pure enough to enter biblical heaven don’t even know what they’re missing out on. They are wrapped in the obligation to worship, because the entity in charge actually likes that. Glory. Praise. Power. All of it. They can never get enough.
And in the other place…
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Challenge #01858-E034: Dialup Inferno — Steemit
“Good day, I represent the technical support department of Microsoft Enterprises. We’ve detected an anomaly on your computer.”
“How did you get this number?” said the gruff, gravelly voice on the other end.
“Could you please tell me which version of Windows you are running on your computer, sir?”
“How did you get this number?” said the person on the other side. “You should not have this number.”
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Challenge #01857-E033: A Best-laid Plan — Steemit
The hero’s welcome was quite a sight. Even though the hero in question still wore their bloodied, stained and battered battle armour. Even though their horse was a common draught horse with their mane and tail and feathers clipped short to avoid trouble in battle. Behind the hero, on another draught horse, was the potioneer. She was part of the team that had saved the princess. And she rode with a majority of the tools of her trade in the horse’s panniers.
Only the Princess, on her graceful white charger, looked like she belonged in a parade. Of course she did. The court had sent a portable salon and some beautiful riding clothes for her and the inevitable parade. The best that they could do for the hero and the potioneer was clean them up and make sure their hair was tidy. Nevertheless, the people cheered. They threw flowers. Flower petals. Paper ribbons. And of course, their cheers and huzzahs. All the way to the palace.
Where courtiers helped the Princess dismount, and the hero helped themself, and then the potioneer to the ground. Where they all paraded in with as much formality as they could muster, all the way to the throne and the Kings’ welcome. Where the hero kelt and presented their blade, and the potioneer knelt by the hero’s side.