quillthemill

[quillthemill]

The Adventures of Scaredy-Kitten, the healer afraid of pretty much everything, but especially blood.

In today’s adventure, Scaredy-Kitten has a chat with a pair of vampires.

Scaredy-Kitten: S-So… you two look rather similar… a-are you related?

Femme Vamp: What? No, no, we’re not related. [turns to Male Vamp] Do we really look similar?

Male Vamp: Hmm… I suppose there’s a small resemblance…

Scaredy-Kitten: Wh-What’re you two mumbling o-over? Did-did I say something wrong?

Femme Vamp: Oh, no no! Not at all! You’re fine, little kitten.

Male Vamp: [Leans close to Femme Vamp and whispers] Say… I’ve got an idea. Might be worth a laugh or two.

Femme Vamp: [Whispering] I’m listening…

Male Vamp: This girl’s a healer-type, yea? What do you want to bet that she’s unaware of the symptoms of incoming vampirism?

Femme Vamp: Oh, I don’t want to bet. Look at her. She’d probably believe whatever we told her about vampirism even if she knew otherwise.

Male Vamp: Then do you want to have some fun?

Femme Vamp: Oh, you bet I do~♥

Femme Vamp: [No longer whispering, turns to Scaredy-Kitten] Say, little kitten. What do you know about vampirism, ‘ey?

Scaredy-Kitten: O-O-O-Oh, n-n-not mu-much… just the basic stuff. Pale sk-skin, aversion t-to-to sunlight--

Femme Vamp: Er--... let me clarify. I meant to ask what you knew about the onset of vampirism. What the symptoms are when someone is going to become a vampire.

Scaredy-Kitten: O-Oh! Well, I once read about them in a book… but it was an outdated one, and I don’t remember much about it…

Male Vamp: Well, we’d be more than happy to tell you about them. I’d be willing to bet we both remember.

Femme Vamp: Oh, I remember it perfectly!

Scaredy-Kitten: W-W-W-W-W-Well, I-I-I suppose you can tell me…

Femme Vamp: Well… the starting symptoms are an awful lot like the common cold. A stuffy nose, headache, some sinus aches… But it lasts for as long or more than an entire week.

Scaredy-Kitten: [listening intently]

Male Vamp: Once those symptoms clear up, the person feels fine… but then about two weeks after that, the cravings begin to show up.

Scaredy-Kitten: C-Cravings?

Male Vamp: Yeah, cravings. Cravings for really… unique foods. Stuff like burnt catnip, mice guts, boiled bird beaks, scalded oil…

Scaredy-Kitten: [beginning to sweat and stammer]

Femme Vamp: Oh, yeah… eventually, the person’ll start to crave blood. Usually, most people begin to freak out around this stage. “Why do I crave blood so much,” they think. Most even develop phobias of blood.

Male Vamp: At that point, yanno… once you’ve got a fear of blood… the transformation is inevitable.

Scaredy-Kitten: [breathing, panting heavily.] R-Really?

Femme Vamp: Oh, yes. They try and resist the call as much as they can. But then, they see someone’s exposed wounds, someone’s sun-reddened neck… and it calls to them. It’s so… alluring.

Male Vamp: And when they first sink their fangs into someone’s blood, it’s intoxicating. They’re hooked, and it’s only a matter of time before they fully transform.

Scaredy-Kitten: [Begins to rapidly hyperventilate] oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no…!!

Femme Vamp: Oh my… whatever’s the matter dear? [Gasps]Don’t tell me--! You’re trying to resist the call of blood, aren’t you?

Scaredy-Kitten: I don’t remember being bitten! I don’t remember!

Male Vamp: You might not… but you probably have been. Don’t worry, little kitten.

Femme Vamp: We’ll walk you through it, honest! Here, let’s dip your metaphorical feet in. [Slits wrist.] See this? You might gag at first, but soon your senses will kick in.

Scaredy-Kitten: [stammers and squeals in fright, before fainting]

Male Vamp: Er… I almost feel kinda bad…

Femme Vamp: Hmph. she’s more of a scaredy-cat than I first thought.

#scaredy-kitten #adventures of scaredy-kitten #aosk #catgirl #healer #catgirl healer #vampire #vampires #conversation #blood

[quillthemill]

Hey, I’m still alive!

#original story #story #short story #original short story

[quillthemill]

they keep telling me to sleep. I hear them. they whisper to me.

"sleep," they coo. "sleep, sleep. youll feel better." but i can't. cant sleep. he'll come. come and get me. can't sleep. must keep eyes open.

sometimes i see them. they're grey. long hair, no eyes. or are they closed eyes? can't remember. but they speak. they hug me, hold my hands, cup them over my eyes.

all they say is to sleep. but can I really sleep? what if he comes. cant sleep cant sleep cant sleep cant sleep

they're angry with me. the tones say so. body as well. hold me down, weigh me down. force eyes closed.

"sleep." but i don't want to.

"Sleep." but i don't want to...

"SLeep." but I dont want...

"SLEEp" But i...

"sleep."

#sleep #original story #short story #nightmare #nightmares #sleeping #no sleep #no sleeping

[quillthemill]

A single tumbleweed rolled across the plains of Nevada. Behind a saloon, a cowgirl was slouched against the wall of the building, plucking various bullets out of a shoebox, observing their bottoms for a few moments, then putting them back into the box, muttering to themselves.

“Magnetised... Spiral-flight... Smoke-cloud...”

The cowgirl took a small break from her counting, and with a shaking hand, took a swig of whiskey from a canteen.

“Hey, Marian. Wha’cha doin’?”

The cowgirl nearly dropped her canteen. She angrily glared to the left while fumbling with the canteen’s lid. She exhaled morosely.

“Ugh, jeez. Don’t scare me like that, Douglas.”

Yes, Douglas. The saloon’s only cleaning staff. He... wasn’t the brightest bulb. He always seemed to think everyone could just hug their problems out. But he was sweet, and he was good at his job.

“Sorry, Marian. But, uh...”

Marian hung her head and sighed, her arms limply smacking into the dirt.

“I don’t what worse. Going into a gunfight or the fact I’m using grandpa’s old Trick Bullets.”

Marian held up the box for Douglas to see. “Trick Bullets” was scrawled both on one side and the lid. Douglas had a concerned look on his face.

“You’ve gotten wrapped up in a gunfight? Why’s that?”

“Apparently I ticked off the wrong bandit while I was drunk off my arse. They didn’t accept any excuses. They challenged me to a duel in some backwater near that place with the excessive amount of cacti.”

Marian went back to counting the bullets for a few moments, while Douglas processed what he had just heard.

“Wh--Why can’t you just bring this whole thing up with the sheriff,” he asked. Marian paused and growled annoyed. Douglas had a point, but it was a point she didn’t want to hear.

“I suppose I’m too prideful for my own good, Douglas,” Marian muttered angrily. “Now, could you leave me be? I’ve only got... I dunno, around seventeen minutes to get ready.”

Douglas made a few panicked stammers, desperately trying to think of something to say. He couldn’t. He hung his head and limped back inside. Marian put the lid back on the shoebox and put a few bullets into her revolver.

She sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

Prompt #6163

“I don’t know what’s worse. Going into a gunfight or the fact I’m using grandpa’s old Trick Bullets.”

#the pendragon writers guild #writing #writing inspiration #writing prompts #dialogue prompt #writing prompt #fantasy prompts #magic prompts #futuristic prompt #scifi prompts #western prompts #bizarre prompts #funny prompts

[quillthemill]

Out-Of-Context Character Bios

The male Jester Twin. Jebidiah is visually distinctive from his sister in that he wears a two-tone fuschia and drab green outfit, and his hat has three baubles instead of two.

Jebidiah speaks in rhyme and semi-rhyme. Jebidiah is seemingly the only one who can understand what his sister is saying, but he oddly refuses to translate it for others, instead preferring for them to infer her meaning from his reactions. He always appears with his sister, and his sister always appears with him. Like all of the other carnival/circus staff, Jebidiah has pure pink eyes with no pupil. Only the sclera and the whites are visible.

Jebidiah is of a jovial, teasing sort. He explains away the various dangers in the carnival as the imaginations of the guests, and often pokes and prods others over precieved fears and weaknesses. However, he's always willing to console the more traumatised park-goers, and his teasing is only in good fun.

-Quotes-

"Welcome, welcome, to this carnival of fear! We hope you'll enjoy your time here, dear."

"What do you mean, 'killer suit of armor'? Are you certain you aren't imagining moving decor?"

"Calm down, child. Your parents will be okay. They'll revive before the next day."

The female Jester Twin. Jericho is visually distinct from her brother in that she wears a uni-colored orange costume and has only two baubles on her hat, compared to her brother's three.

Jericho speaks in garbled, scrambled sentences that her brother claims is a seperate language. While her brother is able to understand her, he oddly refuses to translate, instead leaving others to infer what Jericho is saying through his reactions. She always appears with her brother, and her brother always appears with her. Like all of the carnival/circus staff, Jericho has pure pink eyes with no pupils. Only the whites and sclera are visible.

Jericho is of a judgemental, callous sort. She regularly mocks and insults others over percieved weaknesses, fears, and other characteristics. Jericho often derides guests over their coming to the carnival. She will often suggest that the guests leave as soon as possible, even giving the answers out to some puzzles in order to speed the guests along.

-Quotes-

"Doitsi, hte lot of yuo. Ywh dwuol uoy moce eerh fi you nwok reu'yo gongi ot eb cardes tuo fo ruyo twis? Rae oyu somachitis?"

"Ha, sith zupzle. Yma I esgugt gnilpul het moft-lest relve?"

"Uoyr netsrap rea noge onw kid. Tno'd therob gniksa if reth'ey gonig to ceom kabc. Jsut lveae guohth htat odor htree."

#out of context #character bios #clowns #jesters #clown #jester #death

[quillthemill]

Random Wild West Characters/Ideas: Part 0 of ?

-Ophid-

A being made entirely out of rattlesnakes. These rattlesnakes gained the octopus-like ability to change the color of their scales through unknown means. They extend their “s” sounds and vague rattles can be heard whenever they move. Likes to take on the guise of children, likely so it can hunt humans, which it has developed a taste for. Named itself after Ophidiophobia, the fear of snakes. Delights in tormenting those with such a phobia with its presence. Kind of a prick. Does not like it when someone eats or breaks eggs.

-Laurel-

A young woman who got possessed by several slaughtered bovine. She subconsciously sprouts ungulate and bovine features when angered or upset, but she can generate such features at will if she desires too. Strangely considers eating cow meat to be cannibalism, yet eats cow meat anyway. Likes her greens. Has a preference for nose rings. Irrationally irritated by the waving motions of flags and dresses. Hates being surprised or jumped. Claustrophobic. High risk of getting sick when stressed.

-Ribcage-

A pre-teen kid who got hung on suspicion of being a witch. Brought back to life through necromancy, but all of their skin has decayed away, leaving only their skeleton, now colored a beige tone due to constant exposure to sand and dust. Has a silver tongue, sleight of hand skills, and an encyclopedic knowledge of card games and scams, which they use to earn a living. Incredibly self-conscious about being a skeleton. Has a tendency to fret and panic when plans go awry or when confronted with an uncomfortable scenario with no easy out.

#wild west #random character ideas #original characters #original character #random character idea #wild west idea #wild west characters #wild west character #wild west ideas #rattlesnakes #snakes #ophidiophobia #possession #cow #cows #hanging #noose #necromancy #skeleton #skeletons

[quillthemill]

I wrote an story thing.

#hazmat suits and wave-particle duality #Kyrii #original story #original characters #leader of the hazmat suits #riley

[quillthemill]

Tales from Semi-Reality

User Thaddeus_Rules_Germany said:

Hey guys? The news is saying that I should “bow down to the ringleader” and instead of the president they showed what looks like a stock image of a circus ringleader? Did this actually happen or am I just going insane?

User Olive_Oyl_Sux replied:

No, I saw it too. It came on right after the announcement that Japan became an oligopoly ruled by the most attractive individuals. It’s apparently been a weird night.

User yellow_anonymous replied:

yeah, i didn’t believe it either. turns out it actually happened. d’ya think the ringleader had something to do with that whole scandal about the FBI running that brothel full of aliens from Triton?

User Thaddeus_Rules_Germany replied:

Maybe. I should probably ask the ringleader. The news said she’s touring the entire nation starting next Friday.

#tales from semi-reality #fictional reality #fictional earth #fictional world #fictional usa #fictional japan #narrative #semi-reality #almost real #false reality

[quillthemill]

Time Travel Writing Prompts.

A future version of your childhood friend arrives. They’re an animal-human hybrid and they work for a circus that might as well be a brothel.

The time machine stops mid-flight. The door is ripped open. You aren’t anywhere. Something sounds like it’s crawling on the outside of the machine.

You time travel to see what your mysterious great-great-grandmother was like. You end up in Victorian England, and you see a young woman setting fire to a manor.

The future denizens of Scotland arrive. They’re minotaurs.

The spirit who lives in your magic pocket watch confuses your dead sibling for you. Since the pocket watch is meant to take the user back to the time of someone’s death, the spirit has a panic attack upon realizing that you’re the one using the pocket watch. Space-Time is fractured and the world is now an anachronistic mess.

After many, many manipulations of past events, you have now completed your evil scheme of turning Pangea into a super-continent scale stereotypical high school.

Your arrival in medieval Europe has not been great so far. Mostly because the Pope has captured you and wants to use your method of time travel to crush the enemies of the Church. 

#story prompts #writing prompt #writing prompts #time travel prompts #time travel prompt #Pope #The Roman Catholic Church #pangea #time travel

[quillthemill]

Cake’s here!

   "Ooh! Fondant, the cake we ordered is here! Come down to the living room!"

"I'm coming, Streusel! There's no need to rush. And what happened to eating in the dining room like civilized people?"

   "That would mean I would have to wait longer to eat this! You always insist on setting the table no matter what it is we're eating!"

"It's important to exercise proper manners, Streusel--"

   "Manners waste time."

"Well. You've certainly laid all your cards on the metaphorical table."

   "Blah, blah, blah. Can we eat now? I'm positively starved!"

"Oh, fine. I've been craving dessert as well."

[A Short While Later]

   "Mmmmm! Oh, ye Gods! This is so good, Fondant! Don't you think so as well?"

"Oh, yes. It's very good. Of course, it pales in comparison to anything I've created, but forgive my hubris, would you? My business has been very successful recently."

   "Oh my-- The frosting, it's just so-- Ahhhhhh! I love it, I love it!"

"It's certainly professionally made, I'll give it that. I adore the minimalist design of the whole ordeal; Silver frosting on top of a bread-crust colored pound cake. Sometimes the basics are the best, wouldn't you say?"

   "Yeah! Although... this jelly is givin' me mixed feelings."

"What makes you say that? Does it have an odd taste?"

   "Look at how runny this jelly is! It's nothing to do with the taste --it tastes exactly like strawberry-- but it's just so runny! Is jelly supposed to be like this when it's warm?"

"No, it's not. Hmm... you know, this might be strawberry jam instead of strawberry jelly. I've certainly heard of the practice of using jam instead of jelly, but it's quite uncommon, at least around here."

   "Aren't jams and jellies the same thing--"

"Oh, certainly not! The two are very different, I'll have you know. Jellies are quite a bit stiffer than jams due to their pectin content. Jams are typically looser than jellies."

   "Wowie zowie. You sure know your stuff."

"Of course I do, Streusel, I'm a baker. It's my job to know everything related to the craft. Although, now that you've brought up the general topic of oddities with this cake..."

   "Yes?"

"This texture is rather odd. I don't think I've ever felt or seen something quite like it."

   "Hey, yeah. You're right. This texture is kind of weird. It's like sponge cake mixed with soap bubbles and ice-cream. Just by looking at it, you'd think it'd be light and airy, but it's all heavy and slippery. Weirdest thing, that is."

"That is certainly a colorful way of describing it. I would've gone for a cross between cheesecake and ice-cream cake. While we're on this topic, the frosting has an odd texture to it as well. It feels oddly like hair when I drag a finger across it."

   "Yeah... that's a little off-putting. It makes me think this frosting might actually have hair in it."

"That's absurd, Streusel."

   "Is it, Fondant?"

"Yes. Patently absurd. Now, are you going to eat this slice?"

   "Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

[Another Short While Later]

   "You know, I've been thinkin'... about Delilah."

"What about her, Streusel? The village guards said they would comb the entire woods for her should they find anything that would suggest she's out there."

   "W-Well, yeah, but... I wasn't thinkin' about her being lost specifically, Fondant."

"Hmm? Go on."

   "You know how when she would space out, her skin would get all shiny and slippery, kinda like this cake?"

"That... That is certainly a... strange... comparison to make. But to answer your question, yes. I do recall Delilah's skin gaining an ice-cream-like luster whenever she slept or lost focus."

   "And do you remember when we got really curious and felt her up while she slept?"

"Don't tell me you still feel guilty over that, Streusel. She forgave us, remember? It's like she said: 'Curiosity is curiosity.' That certainly wasn't my proudest moment. I can't believe I let my curiosity cloud my thoughts like that..."

   "Yeah, yeah! Le-Lemme finish, dang it!"

"Oh. My apologies."

   "When we felt Delilah's skin, didn't it feel kinda like this cake? You know, like cheesecake crossed with ice-cream cake?"

"Hmm. Yes, the feeling is actually quite familiar, now that I think of it. Delilah tended to keep her hair in this same silvery color, didn't she? She said it's her favorite color."

   "Yeah, yeah, she did. Weird..."

"..."

   "I miss Delilah, dang it."

"..."

   "I really miss her."

"I miss her too, Streusel."

   "She'll come back, right, Fondant?"

"I'm certain. Now, finish this cake so I can clean. Looking at all these crumbs is driving me round the bend!"

#cake #pastries #baker #bakery #bake #baked goods #struesel #fondant #jam #jams #jelly #jellies #mystery #guessing game #shapeshifter #delilah #implied cannibalism #baked into a cake #turned into food #clean #clean up #crumbs #frosting #silver #pound cake #ice cream #ice cream cake #cheesecake

[quillthemill]

hey here’s a thing i made on my weird interpretation deely-bob of the seven deadly sins.

Warning, contains content made by me, consume at your own risk. Side effects may include disturbing thoughts of making disabled children choke on their own teeth and other related images, alongside an appreciation of thrice-damned memes.

[quillthemill]

Rest in Pastrami, Yellow. We hardly knew ye, likely because you were a massive spastic who never left the house and complained about being tormenting by an omnipotent maid or some #### whenever I called.

The power is out. Am scared. Help. Horror movie.

#a moment of silence

[quillthemill]

#original story #stuffed animals #horror story #horror #short story #horror short story #police #police officer

[quillthemill]

Woah momma, it’s a lore dump!

#lore dump #lore #pastebin

[quillthemill]

Snip, snip.

    Snip, snip.

   I can hear his ragged old lungs try to keep himself supplied with air. I think he's trying to keep quiet, but considering how much he was running earlier I guess I can't blame him for being so noticeable. He's surprisingly athletic for an old man. Maybe it has something to do with those prosthetic limbs of his.

   Snip, snip.

   It's rather easy to track him down. While the breathing helps, it isn't specific enough. He flinches with almost every snip of my scissors. These metal floors and walls amplify nearly every squeak his shoes create when he tenses up. I can't help but snicker. The old fool probably thinks I'm mistaking the noises for the creaks and moans metal buildings just love to make.

   Snip, snip.

   Oh, my... I'm getting all tense! Alright, come on now... deep breaths. I don't want to get too excited. It should only be a few more rooms till I get to where he is. I might as well think of ways to taunt the old man...

   Snip, snip.

   "Ahh... Alright, time to close up! Better make sure all these stations are in order," I announce to the room I just walked into. It was muffled from the echoes of my words, but I'm pretty certain I just heard the old man tense up and gasp. I wonder if he's even aware of the reason this building is here in a roughly ten acre large fenced off area of thick redwood forest.

   This entire area is pretty much a feedlot for me and my fellow shamblers. Most just call us zombies. It's fair, seeing as we're corpses resurrected through a virus. We've got all sorts of creatures here. Orcs, humans, kobolds, kitsune... Some of us just prefer to jump them and chow down, but myself? I like to... "play" with my food. Hence, this building's reason for being here. It's a set. A set based off of a barber's shop. Three guesses as to what I was before I kicked the bucket.

   The room me and the old crone are in is the one that has all the barber’s chairs and stations. He's hiding under one of the stations... I know it for sure. I just need to narrow down which one.

   Snip, snip.

   I walk up to one of the stations and rustle around a few bottles and open a few drawers. When I look underneath the stations, I hear the sound of the old man crawling to one of the other stations to my right.

   Where there aren't any exits.

   Snip, snip.

   "Everything looks good here," I mumble as I move to the opposite station. The old fool should be somewhere to my left now. I repeat the same actions as last time. I begin to hum a slower version of "Shave and a Haircut" over and over again as I move down a row. My muscles feel so tight and my mouth feels like it might give itself a tear from smiling too widely.

   Snip, snip.

   This time, the old man scrambles to the next row down after I'm done with the third station I check. I saw him under there, but... I wanted to keep him sweating nervously for a while longer. It's got a distinctive smell to it.

   Snip, snip.

   Hehehehehehehe~! The absolute fool! He's placed himself under the one station against the back wall! I feel like every part of me is vibrating! I want to run over there and stick my scissors into his jugular-- No, no! Keep calm, keep calm... I've got to keep this little game up. Hehehehehehehehe...

   Snip, snip.

   My fingers twitch as I go through this little routine one last time. As I stare at the old loon under the station I pretend to be surprised. But I don't think he bought it. Oh, well! That's actually kind of what I wanted.

   Snip, snip.

   "Oh, hello there! What're you doing in here after hours?" I don't give him a chance to respond. "Ooh, wow. You don't look so hot," I say as I yank the old man out from under the station. As I stare at him I can see the glimmers in his teeth vanish and move as his expression changes from shock to fear.

   I give him a smile. "Did you get locked in here? I'm so sorry, sir! How about I give you a haircut to make it up to you?" Again, I don't give him time to respond. I sit him down on the chair and place his arms and feet on the appropriate rests. After about five seconds, some restraints automatically lock his forearms, wrists, and ankles in place. Pressure sensors are a wonderous thing, aren't they?

    Snip, snip. Snip, snip.

   Hehehehehe... all this tension in my arms and fingers! I owe myself some release... He's flinching and tensing up almost constantly! Maybe I'll just start with the sides. Whoops, there goes the tip of his ear!

    Snip, snip.

   "Sir, could I ask you to hold still? I nearly took off your entire ear!" I'm beginning to drool. I continue to cut his hair, occasionally lopping off chunks of his ears. This is just so much fun. The old man's holding up surprisingly well. I don't think he's even begun to cry. Well boo! That simply won't do. Maybe I'll just...

    Snip, snip.

   There goes one ear. I'll just leave this other one hanging by a thread. Ooh, what's that noise? Sounds like water dripping onto medical grade silicone. Hehehehehe! Perfect. I think it's about time to wrap this game up. My stomach is screaming...

   Snip, snip.

   It always amazes me how much blood can shoot itself out of the human jugular. I feel all twitchy and my shirt's all wet from drool! I had fun, old man. I'll make sure you won't go to waste.

#scissors #barbershop #barber #zombie #sadism #murder #killing #killer #murderer #short story #original story #blood

[quillthemill]

The All-Consuming Blanket

   Darryl stumbled out of his bed and down the stairs. He wasn't exactly certain what prompted him to leave his room, but something did. Perhaps it was those noises he heard from downstairs a moment earlier. A shuffling and a "whumpf" sound, much like someone throwing themselves onto a couch.

   "Hello? Pen, is that you," Darryl called out to the living room as he reached the end of the stairs. "I really wish you would make more noise when you come home. It's hard to tell if someone actually came in or if I'm just hearing things." In response to his sarcastic quip, Darryl was met with... child-like giggling. Which certainly wasn't what Darryl was expecting. Pen usually responds to sarcasm and the like through teasing and tickling.

   Darryl walked into his living room, confused. As he scratched his head, wondering if he was just hearing things from lack of sleep, Darryl once again heard more childish giggling. His gaze immediately went toward the couch. The giggling abruptly stopped.

   On the couch was a blanket. Darryl's favorite blanket, in fact. It was sprawled out on the couch in such a way as to imply someone was hiding underneath the blanket, but Darryl couldn't see any sort of lump or rough human figure.

   "Jeez, I really need to get to bed. I don't even remember leaving this here..." Darryl sleepily walked over to the blanket. As he reached out to grab the blanket, a smaller hand ripped the blanket away.

   "Boo!" Darryl flinched, startled. Aisha, a small girl he and Pen had been taking care of, had jumped up from underneath the blanket. She gave a wide, teasing smile and looked right at Darryl. "Got you~!"

   "Ai-Aisha? Sheesh... don't scare me like that!" Darryl looked across the room at a digital clock on a nightstand. "On another note, it's way past your bedtime," Darryl admonished, turning back towards Aisha. "Why are you up? Did you have a nightmare?" Aisha shook her head no as she pulled Darryl onto the couch and sat on his thighs.

   "No, I didn't have a nightmare. Usually, on Saturdays Mama comes down to my room at night to try and scare me with stories and tricks and stuff. So I figured I'd--"

   "Wait," Darryl interrupted, concerned. "She does that? Aisha, why didn't you tell me?" Aisha puffed out her cheeks and crossed arms.

   "I didn't say I don't like it when she does that! Let me finish!"

   "O-Oh. Sorry."

   "As I was saying," Aisha huffed, weakly pinching Darryl's stomach. "Mama comes down to my room on Saturdays to try and scare me. So tonight I decided to stay up late to try and get the jump on her! I figured I could practice with you!"

   "Practice what with me, Aisha?" Darryl laid down and pulled Aisha onto his upper chest. Aisha humphed in annoyance as she swapped from sitting on her knees to lie down on her chest.

   "Being scary, dad! What else would it be?"

   "Aisha, it's really unhealthy for you to stay up late like this. It's bedtime. Do you want me to sleep with you?"

   Aisha stared at Darryl with big, round, sad eyes. "Pleeeeeeeeease?" Darryl was simply no match for Aisha's begging and pleading. He sighed.

   "Fine... I'll help you practice," Darryl reluctantly yawned. Aisha's eyes lit up as she squealed happily. Darryl blushed as Aisha gave him a few pecks on the cheeks and forehead. She grabbed the blanket and draped it over herself.

   "Roooooar~! I am the all-consuming blanket!" Aisha waved her arms around as Darryl pretended to be afraid. Aisha threw the blanket forwards as she belly-flopped onto Darryl. The blanket landed on top of Darryl, covering both him and Aisha completely.

   "Oof! Was belly-flopping onto me really necessary?" Darryl didn't receive a response. Instead, he began to feel like several, several pairs of dulled teeth were nibbling at several different parts of his body. The feeling was simultaneously uncomfortable and relaxing.

   "Aisha? Aisha, what are you even doing?" Again, no response. Darryl tried to locate Aisha or at least the largest mass of matter that wasn't made of mouths. It was a bit hard, considering that his arms were being held back by nibbling teeth. Eventually, however, he did manage to place a hand on a lump that wasn't trying to bite him. To make sure it wasn't just his own stomach or his leg, Darryl scratched the fleshy being. He was met with a feminine giggle.

   "Aaa-Aaa-Aaa! No! No tickles," Aisha cried as Darryl continued to scratch the flesh-hump. The mouths disappeared from Darryl's arms, allowing him to tickle Aisha with full efficiency. "Noooooooooooo! Stop it! Don't tickle meeeeeeee!"

   "Ha-ha! I am victorious!" Darry pulled the blanket off of his head. He waited for Aisha to calm down before removing the blanket from her head. She puffed up her cheeks again before burying her face in Darryl's chest, covering herself up with the blankets again. She clutched the blanket tight.

   "Awww, c'mon. Don't be like that, Aisha." Darryl yanked the blanket out of Aisha's grip. "Peek-A-Boo!" Darryl covered Aisha again before she could look up at him. "Peek-A-Boo!" Darryl moved the blanket again. Aisha sat up, crossing her arms.

   "What do I look like, a baby?"

   "Aw, come on. You're smiling!"

   Indeed she was. Aisha was trying to hide it, but she was failing. She broke out into giggling, falling back onto her stomach. Darryl continued to cover and uncover Aisha, saying "Peek-A-Boo" each time he uncovered her. As she was often known to do, Aisha changed her appearance several times. First, she was a firefighter. Next, a butcher. After that, a knight. This continued on and on.

   After a while, Darryl was about ready to send Aisha off to bed. He had expected Pen to have come back by now, but she hadn't. He uncovered Aisha again. "Alright, Aisha, it's time to..." Darryl trailed off. Aisha, for some reason, decided to take on the appearance of an adult woman with glasses and a short, scruffy hairstyle. This appearance was significant to Darryl because he happened to be "into" those two traits if you catch my drift.

   "It's time to what, Dad?" Aisha pulled Darryl into a hug. She noticed Darryl seemed rather upset over something. "Somethin' wrong, Dad?"

   "Errr... Aisha, if you could maybe... shift out of that form, please?" Darryl's voice was uncomfortable and shaky.

   "Why? I mean, I know you like girls with glasses and shaggy hair. I figured I would surprise you! Don't you like surprises?" Aisha leaned onto Darryl, pulling the blanket on top of both of them.

   Darryl gave a helpless whine, confusing Aisha further. Aisha hugged Darryl. "You're concerning me, Daddy." Darryl whined for help.

   "Would you stop whining like that and use your words? Come on, why am I the one who has to tell you this?"

   Suddenly enough, someone removed the blanket from Aisha and Darryl. "Oh, hi, Aisha. Hassling your father, are we?" Aisha looked up at Pen. After a few seconds, she sheepishly morphed back into her original appearance.

   "U-Um... N-No?" Pen laughed, sitting down next to Aisha. That is to say, she sat down on Darryl's calves.

   "I kid, I kid. I do it all the time, Aisha." Pen looked at Darryl, giving him a soft smile. Darryl responded by gesturing with his head towards the clock. Pen looked at the clock, then at Aisha. "Woah. Kiddo, it's way past your bedtime." Pen picked Aisha up by the armpits as she whined in protest.

   "But Mamaaaaaa! I didn't even get to--"

   "Shhhh, shhh. It's nearly midnight. You wouldn't want the witches to find you, right?" Aisha immediately ceased resisting, hugging Pen's neck and shoulder as she was carried downstairs.

   Darryl yawned. While he intended to wait for Pen to come back upstairs, once he blinked, his eyes just wouldn't open again. He quickly fell asleep.

#original story #original characters #shapeshifters #shapeshifting #fluff #family #demon #accounting demon

[quillthemill]

A Quill in Salem

I live in the town of Salem. Not the one in Massachusetts, though. I also don’t live in the Salem in North Dakota. I don’t have a home. The townspeople threw me out, said I didn’t deserve one. They don’t let me go to school or buy things. They say I’m possessed by a demon. When I asked why someone said something about my right arm. They said it moves and writes on its own. I don’t know why that’s a problem, don’t other people have arms that do that?

My only possession is this pen. I think it’s a fountain pen? It’s gold and black colored. When I hold it near paper, my arm goes numb. It starts writing. I think it’s pretty cool.

These two people who run the inn are nice to me. I think they’re married. They let me live in one of the rooms. It’s pretty cozy in here; there’s a blanket, a bed, a pillow, a table with an inkwell on it… ooh, and a stack of paper!

I grab the first piece of paper from the stack and sit down at the table. My arm goes numb. It goes over to the inkwell and dips the pen in it, before heading over to the paper. The pen starts scribbling. It’s funny though… I don’t know any languages aside from English. But the pen writes in these symbols and markings I’ve never seen before. It’s kinda like the letters people in Japan use, only… different.

“I wonder how it does that…” I mutter to myself. The pen stops writing. It goes to another line of paper and…

“You wonder how I do what?” it writes out. In English, no less. Shaky, hard to read English, but still English. The pen stops writing. Does it want a response?

“You… you can hear me?” I ask. The pen starts writing again.

“Yes, I can.” The pen moved back over to its question.

“Well, I-I was wondering about what you were writing up here.” I pointed to the symbols at the top of the paper. “I don’t know this language. So how’re you writing it if I don’t know it?”

The pen takes a few seconds to start writing again. I think I can vaguely hear some wheezy laughter from near my ear.

“I’m not you. I know that ‘language’, as you call it, but you don’t.”

“Then who are you?”

“That’s a good question, isn’t it? What would my name translate to in your language?”

The pen starts listing words on the paper.

“Pin… no.” The pen crosses out the word 'Pin’.

“Pot… nah, Pole… definitely not… Pat… nope.”

“Pen… yeah, yeah. It’s Pen. My name is Pen, in your language.” The pen circles the word 'Pen’. I guess I should call them Pen, now?

“So… can you tell me more about you?” I ask Pen.

Pen flips over the paper. “Yes, I guess I can do that,” Pen writes slowly. “Well, you already know my name… I’m an accountant. I’ve lived to see the Salem witch trials in Massachusetts, the Revolutionary War, and the assassination of Martin Luther King Junior. In that order. So what about you?”

“Uhhh… me? I- I uh… I live in Salem. Not the one in Massachusetts. The townspeople say I’m possessed by a demon… They threw me out of my house and don’t let me go to school.”

Pen starts writing before I’m done talking. “Really? They think I’m some plain ol’ de- That’s awful! They treat you like that because of me?” Pen scrawls out the first part. I dunno why.

“I… I guess.”

Pen draws a big frowny face with angry eyebrows. “We can talk more tomorrow, okay? I have to go… do some things.”

My arm doesn’t feel numb anymore. I think Pen left. I leave the pen on the table and crawl into the bed.

–Tomorrow–

I wake up thirsty. I go outside to find the well. On my way there, a man in an alleyway walks up to me. I recognize him. He’s pretty okay with me, I think. He tells me what goes on with the rest of the town sometimes.

“Hey, kid. Did ya hear?” He asked. His voice is all gravelly and low.

“About what, mister?”

“Mayor Rothschild fell 'sleep at his desk. Said he had a weird dream. Somethin’ about a red figure with a pen and glasses lecturing him. When he woke up, he had apparently written down the entire thing.” I thought that was weird. Did Pen do that?

“The church exorcized both him and his entire office. Well, almost the entire office. They tried to burn the paper with the lecture on it. Didn’t work.”

“That’s kinda weird,” I say. He nods in agreement.

“Not to sound paranoid, kid, but I wouldn’t walk 'round outside today. The townspeople might blame you.”

That’s good advice. I dunno what they would do to me, but I don’t want to risk it. I wave goodbye to the man and walk inside, back to my room. I kinda wanted to ask Pen some things. I grab a new sheet of paper and sit down at the table. I was going to grab the pen, but my arm went numb again. It grabbed the pen for me, dunking it into the inkwell.

“You seem pretty curious about something,” Pen scrawls out. Their English is a little easier to read now.

“How… how do you know that?” The same wheezy laugh I heard earlier came up again.

“I saw you talking with that bearded man outside. Through the window. After that, you came right up here. I assumed you wanted to ask me something.”

“O-Oh. Yeah, I heard that the Mayor had a weird dream…”

“Did he now?”

“…and when he woke up, he had somehow managed to write down what something had said to him in the dream.”

“Huh. Interesting.” Pen scrawled.

“Did you have something to do with that?”

“I dunno~,” Pen writes. I know they only speak in writing, but I felt like Pen was using a teasing tone.

“Come on, tell me,” I plead.

“Oh, alright. I’ll tell you. I didn’t do it.” I kinda feel like Pen is lying, but I don’t want to hit a nerve. “Anything else you wanna ask, kid?”

“Err… are you a boy or a girl?” It’s the only question I could think of.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you earlier? I guess I didn’t. I’m a girl.” Pen draws a little winky face.

We talk for a while. I think we went through a few entire pages, in fact.

–The Next Day–

They found my room. See, I fell asleep in the two owner’s room. When I woke up, they were apologizing a lot. I was confused, and they told me to look in my room. The bed was broken, and the blanket is gone. The pillow is burned and singed. The table’s been flipped, and papers are scattered everywhere. The inkwell’s on the floor, and ink’s everywhere. The pen is in the Inkwell.

I looked at the papers first. Everything… seemed to still be here. I go to pick up the table, but then my arm goes numb. I look back at the pen. It floats up and goes into my hand. I grab a piece of paper and put it on the floor.

“Sorry about your place. I couldn’t do much to stop them,” Pen hastily scribbles. I feel like she’s… slightly sad?

“I don’t think the townspeople took anything,” I squeak.

“You’re wrong,” Pen scrawled. “They took two pieces of paper.”

“Wha…?” I run around, grabbing papers. I counted. Most of the ones that have Pen’s writing on them are still here… except the first two. They took the first two pieces of paper. I walk back over to Pen.

“They took our first two conversations,” I choke, trying to hold back tears.

“Woah-Woah-Woah, don’t cry… We… you can get it back, right?”

“I d-doubt it,” I sniff. A few drops of tears hit the page. I fall on my knees. Pen doesn’t write anything in response. I start feeling really tired, like someone’s holding a hand to my eyes and closing them.

–…–

They beat me up. They dragged me away while I was sleeping and beat me up on the bar counter. Everything hurts… I can’t find the inn owners anywhere… Maybe they’re upstairs? I hobble up the stairs. My legs hurt so much. When I walk past my room, I think I hear some kind of gasp. Soon enough, I feel like someone’s hugging me.

“Ahh!” I wince. I hear some muffled, concerned whispering, followed by something tugging me inside. The table rights itself, and a piece of paper flies onto it. The inkwell and pen float onto the table as well. After dipping itself in the ink, the pen gently floats itself into my hand.

“Oh my lord… what happened?” Pen writes as slowly as possible, but it still hurts. I wince constantly.

“The… the townspeople beat me up. I woke up on– AAAGH!”

Pen had suddenly started writing really fast. She slowed down as soon as I yelled. “So that’s what that racket was yesterday. I’m so sorry! I leave you alone for five minutes and this is what happens…” I hear fast breathing.

“No-no, it’s not your faul–” I feel like a hand just covered my mouth. I can’t speak. Pen starts writing again.

“You deserve better than this. Don’t worry, I have an idea. We’ll get revenge on this entire town! Just give me a minute.”

Pen starts writing in her language. The symbols start glowing red. My arm flips the pen around, so the point is towards me. Then I hear the whispers again, but much more clearly.

“We’re all set. Now, just don’t move, and stay calm.”

My arm starts winding up. I’m confused and scared.

“Pen? Pen, what’s happen–”

Kssch!

Thump!

–The protectors are dead.–

The innkeepers burn in front of me. They were the ones protecting the boy and his demon. According to the crumpled handful of paper a fellow townsman brought to me, this 'Pen’ character is the demon responsible for my dream and temporary possession. They were using paper to communicate with the boy. Since the demon and the boy are close, the only course of action, according to the church, is to kill the boy. This, in turn, will kill the demon. We left him on the bar-counter.

I walk into the traitors’ inn. The boy isn’t on the counter. He must’ve hobbled away. Foolish, thinking he can escape so easily. I check upstairs in his room first. I find him slumped backward in a chair, in front of a desk with paper on it. I walk in and check the boy. There’s a puncture wound right in the middle of his neck. A splatter of ink surrounds it. Ink drips down his chest and shirt. There’s a bloody fountain pen in his right hand. I take it and turn to the paper.

There’s… strange symbols on it. They’re glowing red. I turn the paper over and put the pen to it. I scrawl out some lines. They come out red. Evidently, whatever ink was in here has somehow been replaced with blood.

I flip the paper back over. I notice a few sentences below the strange symbols.

“Hiya! I’ll be borrowing this kid for a few eternities. Don’t worry, I’ll be giving him back soon!”

Suddenly, the pen gets pulled out of my hand. I whip around and back away. It’s somehow returned to the boy’s hand. Then the unthinkable happens.

The boy rises from his seat. He opens his eyes. They’re an inky blob. Ink begins spurting out of his neck. He’s looking right at me.

“Ah, Mayor Rothschild. Do you remember me?” The boy speaks, but that definitely isn’t his voice. It’s feminine and sneering. I get angry. I do remember that voice.

“You! You’re the monstrosity from my dream,” I shout, readying a stake. “Corrupting the boy’s arm wasn’t good enough for you, eh? Had to take over the rest of him?”

“Heheheh… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You’re rich!” The demon sounds angry. “I’M the monstrosity? Your townspeople are the ones attacking a kid!”

“You’ve been in his body too long. He cannot be saved.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” the demon shrieks. “Our revenge begins here!”

Wait. 'Our’? The boy went along with this?

The demon takes a fighting stance, brandishing the fountain pen. They leap right at me.

I dodge to the si–

Kssch! Kssch-kssch-kssch-kssch!

Thump!

#short story #salem #quill #demon #pen #ghost writing #exorcism #villagers