Runaway

You said not to, so I fled anyway.

You birthed me but you never knew me. When I floundered, you blamed my dreams of adventure. The one thing I have fervor for.

You know what that did? Feed the fire!

When you were working, I ran to the tracks and hopped a freight train. Who knows where I'll go? Maybe to a new country, where they speak a language I'm not fluent in…

Or somewhere other than here.

I never cared that I'm fifteen. You never cared to take me on adventures.

So fuck you, I'm going on my own.

WC: 100

Thanks for reading! Felt like writing a drabble, and it turns out that I immediately got an idea for this. I hope you all like it!

You took it all away from me, you know.

All I had ever wanted was to live among humans. The goddess life was never for me, though perhaps that is my personal bias. Even before I met you, I dreamed of nothing but escaping the cage that Okais trapped me in. I could see nothing but the black and inky void surrounding it, but I could hear the humans.

I listened to their voices as they tampered with what were once relics and gifts I bestowed to my followers, objects of eldritch power that they could not fully understand. My relics, which once gave me my powers, were now in the unworthy hands of the children of Okais.

But you… You gave me hope. You gathered all of my relics and summoned me. Your tongue whispered my very name, a name not used for eons! And just like that, the bars of my prison melted away into the void, and I was placed into the world of humans. I shapeshifted myself into a humanoid form, and I got a taste of freedom- a new life, not as a god, but as a human.

And then you betrayed me. It had only been months, and I had just gotten used to my new life and identity. I paid to you my debts for freeing me with service. I did so much for you! So tell me, Ken, why you outed me? “That is Panilies!” you screamed to the town, “The very being of blinding light and evil!” How could you, how dare you! I never asked to be the goddess of light! I never asked to be rescued by you!

So, you turned me into a laughing stock. Many didn’t believe you, but those who did turned their backs on me… Except for a select few. They are not laughing. No, no! They are worshipping me. They stole the sacred relics back from you, and we are now in the process of rewriting what was once my holy texts.

Bit by bit, we are rebuilding what I once had. And when the new moon sets, Panilies will be a name remembered and feared again.

I will once more rival the shadow father Okais.

I came here for a date, not what looked like a convention for eldritch deities, yet here we are.

I glanced around the coffee shop for a sign of anybody human, however, there was none to be found. Everyone there was in many shapes and sizes: some looked like truly eldritch horrors with twisting limbs and thousands of eyes, some looked just like animals, and some looked humanoid but with one thing or another off about them.

I mean… It’s too late now to back out, though, isn’t it?

I sighed as I approached the barista. Their eight spider-like limbs focused on making different drinks of many kinds. Their eyes focused on me, before they asked me with a scratchy voice, “Welcome to the Primordial Cafe. What can I get you today?”

“Yeah, can I, uh…” I paused as I glanced up at the menu that was written out. It was entirely in a language I couldn’t understand. “A large hot chocolate, if you have it?”

“We do, just a minute, sir,” the spider-like barista replied, before turning to fix my drink. To my surprise, the barista was surprisingly fast, and watching them make my drink with their lightning-quick machines and reflexes was almost like magic. Or, probably was magic. One of the two.

Once they were done, the barista passed my drink over to me. “Thank you, how much will that be?” I asked them.

“Nothing,” they replied, “You mortals aren’t even supposed to be here, nor do you have the currency we use. How did you even get here?”

I felt the urge to flee, but stayed in place as I answered, “I, ah… I’m waiting on a date of mine. His name was Calam. Would you know him, by chance?”

The barista’s many eyes seemed to warm as they chirped, “Oh! Calam’s my little brother. You’ll love him, I promise. Have fun!”

“Thank you,” I chirped, before sitting down at an empty table. I felt like I could feel thousands of eyes staring deep into my soul. I took a deep breath in and out, in an attempt to calm myself down.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Calum arrived. At first, his appearance startled me, but I could soon make the connections between the human disguise I saw on our last few dates and the bug-like deity I saw before me.

He still had his pale green eyes, though they were now large and insectoid. His hair was still long and an inky black, though it was now literal ink that somehow managed to remain on his scalp. He had feather-like antennae that reminded me of quills. His moth-like wings were made of paper, and had written words from many languages on them.

“I hope you don’t mind my new appearance,” he whispered as he sat in the chair across from me.

I shook my head, as I chirruped, “Oh, no, no, I don’t mind at all! You look great, really.”

“Okay, good!” he chirped. He passed over an entire book to me, and excitedly squeaked, “I wrote a few love poems for you! Or, a lot… But I’m a literary deity, how could I help myself?”

I like this a lot! Very relatable, besides the weird floor. Makes me wonder if the supervisor knows anything about what's causing the warping, or is just so dead inside that they can't care anymore. Or both!

Hi again! It's me! Ya boy!

Thank you all again for your prompts! My workday is almost over now, and I'm really appreciative of you all keeping me busy on a super slow day. I can't promise I'll get to all of your wonderful prompts. There's a lot, but still, keep them coming. I love to see them! I do at least work tomorrow, so that'll be some more time to kill as well. Also, once I get to my dorm, I'll gather the prompts that I have the most ideas for and at least write my story ideas out in a doc so I don't forget!

I looked down at the newspaper and skimmed the headline. "Freak Accident Involving 7 Cows and a Seagull, 18 Dead."

You would think I'd be shocked at this sort of headline, but no, not really. This was actually… Kind of average. The day before, the headline was "37 Dead In Frog Swarm." And the day before that, it was "Hundreds Injured In Fluffy Tornado."

It was kind of insane, actually. Why did these weird sort of things happen to my sleepy little town, and only this town? It's not like anything super important ever happens here… Besides whatever is causing these sorts of weird incidents, I guess.

Now, I'm not really religious, but I've at least heard of some of the more famous stories from the Bible. This situation kind of reminded me of the Twelve Plagues of Egypt. What plagued my town was a lot stranger than that, though. I wondered, did someone here commit some atrocious sin that required these plagues? Or was this God's equivalent of playing the Sims and removing the ladder from the pool?

I crumpled up my newspaper and looked outside. I could see clouds in the sky. Strangely, these clouds were not just shades of gray and white. They were black, brown, and orange too.

I watched as it literally began to rain cats and dogs. It was upon that sight that I decided that this situation was indeed caused by God being so bored that my town was now his chaotic Sims game.

So that was fun.

The man stared up into the sky, his eyes filling with tears. This meadow was empty, but that was okay. This was his meadow. It was his meadow to meditate in and spend some time away from other people. Most importantly, it was a place where he could cry and scream, and nobody would hear him. 

The stars sparkled brightly as he stared. They felt welcoming and comforting to him. It was as if they were encouraging him to weep.

He listened to the stars' silent encouragement, as the tears finally began to fall. He balled his hands into fists as he wailed to the sky, "I don't understand it! I don't get it! I have worked so hard to get here, but it's never enough! Nothing I do is ever enough for my boss, my professors, my friends… I don't know what I'm doing wrong! Every day is so tiring, so painful! And nobody notices how much I hurt! Nobody!"

He placed his head in his hands as he weeped more. Everything besides him was quiet and still, as if he wasn't even there in the first place.

At least… That was the case for a little while. After a while of weeping, a whisper came: "Oh, Seth… You truly think nobody sees your pain?"

"Huh?" Seth replied. He looked around, trying to find who said those words, but failed to see much of anything. 

"I am up here," the whisper came again. "I am the void and space who you cry to at night. I see you nearly every night, and you think I do not see your hurt?"

Seth stared up at the sky. The stars seemed to twinkle even brighter, as he said, "To be honest, I did not know you were…"

"Sentient?" the void asked. "It's okay. I understand. Few have ever heard my voice, and none know my name. But that is enough about me. What exactly is wrong, Seth? I wish to try and help."

For a long while, Seth was silent. After what felt like forever, he managed to whisper out, "... I feel so alone. Nobody knows me, nobody talks to me. I don't really have friends or anything. And I guess it just kind of hurts, because I want to have friends and go out with people, but nobody wants to hang out with me. I keep asking people if they want to get some food or hang out or whatever, and they're always busy."

"I am not busy," the void replied. "I am hanging out and talking with you now, am I not?"

"Yeah, I suppose you are," Seth answered.

A group of stars that formed a downwards-pointing arch shimmered brighter, as the void chirped, "I am your friend, Seth. You are the only one who has talked to me in millennia. And to prove it, I will tell you the one thing nobody else knows about me."

It whispered, "My name is Eve."

Now that I'm finally done with a prompt so I don't have to worry about the six-hour rule, I wanna say thank you all for the prompts! I'll try my best to do as many of them that give me inspiration as I can.

I tried to focus my attention on the spreadsheet on my computer, but it was nigh impossible with the loud creaking and burbling noises that came from the floor. I glanced down at it as it began to gurgle. "Yeah?" I asked, "What’s up? What are you trying to tell me this time?"

The floor continued to make gurgling noises, before replying, "... I… Kill your family, Lily… Follow you home… Kill…"

I laughed in reply, which immediately got it to shut up. "How many times do I have to tell you? My family is either already dead or I don't care if you try to kill them. If you're trying to scare me, you're failing." I brought my attention back to my spreadsheet. Yeah, the deadline for that is in a few hours, I should probably deal with that. I began to type for a few moments.

Soon, though, a staticky voice came from my monitor. It hissed, "Oh, but the curse! The curse, the curse, the curse! How will you cope with the curse?"

"Curse?" I echoed. "This isn't a damn curse! This is, like, a minor annoyance. Sure, it sucks that mundane objects are threatening to burn my house down and kill my family or whatever, but none of you ever do anything. It's all just threats emptier than my bank account. That witch or whatever from my last job needs to get better curses."

"I will do it, I will do it!" my monitor replied, "I am invincible, I will hack into and delete everything you love!"

"Please do, I need a little spice in my life," I scoffed. "Actually, here! Let me see if you can hack me after this." I pushed the power button on the monitor.

The monitor squealed as I pushed the button, "No, wait! Please, I have so much to live for! So much to live-" before finally turning off.

The familiar voice of the floor gurgled, "God… You killed… Monitor…"

I shook my head, before replying, "No, it could still talk to me if it wasn't so stupid. I've had plenty of turned-off electronics talk to me before. Its motherboard is just too small to comprehend that-"

I shut up as I heard a different, yet familiar voice say, "Uh, Lily?" I turned to the direction of the voice, to see my supervisor. I had never seen a look that confused and concerned on a guy's face before.

All I could say was "Um… Hey, Dave! I can explain."

I love this! I absolutely did not expect this prompt to go the Calvin and Hobbes route, but here we are.

Tell me, how do you think you'll die? Maybe you'll die some poetic death that will be a story told through your family for generations. Maybe you'll die in some boring old way that nobody ever remembers.

Or maybe you'll die like me, in the most ironic and unexpected of ways: a freak accident where your beloved homemade bookshelf collapsed onto you and your first novel hit your head as hard as it could.

I laid there, dying from a combination of blood loss, being crushed underneath the weight of what remained on my shelf, and possible brain damage from that book I spent years of my life crafting crushing my damn skull in. And as I died, I saw my life flash before my eyes. Looking back on it like this, my life was so fucking boring as a story. Nothing bad happened. I had a nice childhood, grew up, and became a lawyer that moonlighted as an author. I always enjoyed having few people know who truly wrote my books, so I always went by the pen name Astrophel Fields. Sounds like a cool name, I know, but it's adapted from an inside joke from my college. I thought it was funny, and it stuck.

As soon as my life got to the point where I began writing my novel, The Fall of All, things seemed to slow. The Fall of All was like my child. It was a tragedy, where a young person goes completely mad chasing down the drug lord leader of a criminal organization that indirectly caused their father's death. I adored it and its concept, and I put so much work into it. My vision began to fade as I remembered the pure joy of finishing the novel until everything was dark.

… And then I opened my eyes again, and I found myself laying out on a bed... Was this it? Was I in Heaven now? Oh, how I hoped I was in Heaven, and not in Hell.

The thing was, the room I was in did not look at all what I would've imagined Heaven as. It just looked like a plain hotel room, with white walls and hardwood floors. The sheets of the bed I laid on were a light gray. It was just an extremely boring room.

I sighed as I got up and stretched. It was then that I noticed how my body felt… Strange. I was more overweight than I had been before my death, and my skin was rougher. I could feel a scar on my cheek. Maybe that scar was from where the book hit me? Though it hit me on the back of the head, not the cheek… Yeah, I have no explanation for any of this.

Out of sheer curiosity, I made my way to the bathroom. Maybe I could investigate what exactly happened to my body there, for privacy. I shut the door behind me, flicked on the lights, and stared in the mirror. The face that greeted me was not my own. Rather, it was a face with bright green eyes and black hair. Faint stubble was scattered on my cheeks, along with the aforementioned scar. I supposed I couldn't complain, as this solved a lot of my gender issues. And besides, I looked pretty damn hot.

Suddenly, a realization hit me as I stared into my own eyes. Wait. Hold on. There is only one other person who had black hair, bright green eyes, stubble, and a cheek scar.

"Oh my fucking God, I'm him," I sputtered out as I backed away from the mirror. "I'm fucking Sopherim, of all my characters!"

Sopherim was the name of the villain in The Fall of All. He was the man who created a new drug that was highly addictive and deadly and used it to build his criminal empire. I was him.

I bolted out of the bathroom and sprawled back out on the bed. What the fuck was I supposed to do about this? I went from a simple author who had a boring life to a powerful drug lord who's being hunted by a grief-driven 19-year-old in literally a blink of an eye!

I glanced over to the calendar on the wall. The date was July 6th, 2018. That means I had two days. Two days until that kid- who called themself the Vulgate- would find me and chop off my head with a fucking axe.

I groaned as I rolled over and tried to fall back to sleep. I still didn't quite know what to do, so instead, questions flooded my mind. Why was this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this? How could I find out?

Finally, one specific thought came to my mind: This is my story, and I can change it.

I sat up as I thought about this prospect. I was my villain, with all of the knowledge of the author. I could, at the very least, avoid the party that the Vulgate killed me at. And then, I could hatch a plan to dispose of them, once and for all.

It was time to rewrite my beloved novel, for my own sake.