・At a loss for words・

Hi! I’m back again, with another awesome prompt by @flashfictionfridayofficial​   ☾

This time I’ll tell you more about my oc Kael: a Pirate Captain, known as “The Throatcutter” for his brutal way of getting rid of his enemies (and even some of his allies), he was killed with poisoned wine. Now he’s back to haunt his murderers, but ends up realizing there can be so many ways to be trapped and caged, even when you’re already dead.

Word Count: 303

Warnings: Mild blood/gore

They keep telling me I'm no longer human.

But what is this pain, if not the expression of the depths of mankind's truest essence?

I've always thought there would be nothing after death.

You end up in the dirt, or in deep sea waters, in my case, and that's all. Just void. Just emptiness.

And even when I was brought back, the taste of the poisoned wine that ended my life still on my tongue, nothing changed. I couldn't feel.

I longed to rip the flesh off my enemies' bodies, sever their heads and watch them as they rolled on the ground, stopping at my feet, just to know I was still there, not alive, I know that, but undead. Yes, that's the word.

But all the blood that splashes on my clothes, all the lives I gather are not enough to quench my thirst.

And yet... it takes just one glance from her, and I feel the now empty cavity where my heart once resided swell again, as if its beat was accelerating.

Her name is Eden, but she makes the line which separates Heaven from Hell so thin and blurry.

I know that weaving a web of lies is all she does, waiting for me to step in it.

I know that, but I can't stop thinking about her, about what I didn't know I was losing when I left my homeland, and found out only when it was too late to do something about it.

It's Fate's funniest joke, isn't it?

I long for her, but I also long to destroy her.

I was so sure I had let her go once and for all, but in reality she's the one that needs to set me free.

There would be no art without aching hearts.

Prompt by  @flashfictionfridayofficial​ ☾

This week’s prompt was really inspiring, and I must admit it was very hard for me to not write more than 1000 words! 

This time I decided to write about my d&d monk, he’s one of my favourite original characters ever.

What does the word “freedom” mean to him? Let’s find out together!

Word Count: 985

The wind was howling, blowing through the trees and through his hair.

Is this what Freedom sounds like?

Drest, sitting on one of the stone walls of the monastery's cloister, was wondering what the correct answer to that question was.

Of course, his brothers had always protected him, since they found him, still a baby, on their doorstep.

But... was that enough?

Everyday he speculated about his parents' identity, and the fact that they might not be human at all: he had two horns growing out of his head and scales on his skin, after all. So it was highly possible that at least one of them was some sort of dragon-like creature.

Maybe there was a place, out there, waiting for him, full of people of his own kind... whatever that meant. He didn't like thinking of the monastery as a cage, it wouldn't have been fair. It was, indeed, his home, and he didn't want to leave it. But, deep down, he just wanted to find himself.

"Hello, brother Kilyan. How are you feeling today?"

The boy, lost in thought, jumped a little bit, as he was brought back to reality.

It took a second to realize the man was talking to him. Kilyan was the name Drest had chosen for himself once he became a monk, but no one really called him by that name, only the other monks did.

"Good morning, brother Herion" he greeted him, cheerful as always, "I'm feeling great. I was just... thinking."

"Thinking about what?" he asked, a genuine curiosity in the tone of his voice.

"You know..." he shrugged " life, and its true meaning: what does it mean to be alive? Is this all we're destined to do, or is there more but we just don't know it yet? You know, normal things we all think about every day. Monk stuff."

Herion couldn't help it: he started laughing quite loudly.

"Yeah, sure... monk stuff."

"What's so funny?" Drest tilted his head in visible confusion.

"Nothing. I like the way you see the world. Like it has in store for you a big, beautiful new surprise each morning. Don't ever lose that" he tapped on the boy's nose with his index finger, turning around and leaving not long after.

The monk's words filled his heart with joy and hope, and he didn't even know why.

Suddenly, a dull, metallic sound: the gate had just been opened, and he knew what that implied.

He stood up immediately, starting to run towards that direction.

"Hey! Good morning!" he yelled, waving his arms in the air.

Her hair was of such a vivid red that anyone would have recognized her even from a mile away.

"Good morning, Elizabeth dear" as he heard one of his elder brothers greeting her, he didn't stop running and waving his arms in order to draw her attention.

She replied to the man with a smile, and then she finally turned to Drest.

"Oh" she giggled "hello, there!"

Her smile could light up a whole room- no, the whole monastery.

"Hi! How are you feeling? How's the city today? What brings you here?" he kept talking and asking questions, hoping that his embarrassment wouldn't be noticed.

"You sure have a lot of questions, don't you?" she looked at him with soft, sweet eyes, not even a hint of malice nor annoyance in her words.

"I'm just... curious" he was definitely blushing "and I really want to know what it's like out there" he pointed at the horizon, where the city was, just down the road that runs along the hill.

"Trust me, you're not missing much" she shook her head "anyway, I was sent here just for a small delivery. One of your elders, I can't remember his name, brother... Heren? Hiron? Oh, gods, it's right here, on the tip of my tongue, and yet I can't seem to remember..." she kept staring at the ground, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers.

"Herion! His name is Herion" the boy muttered.

"Exactly! Thank you! Brother Herion asked us to bring him some more apples, so I just picked some from the tree next to our house and brought them here. Nothing special, really."

"Sounds delicious! So, now what? Are you going back home right away?"

"No, not yet. There's something I have to do, first. Would you mind joining me?" she winked.

"Of course I'll join you, whatever that is!"

They both laughed.

"Just follow me, then."

She exited the monastery, and kept on walking into the woods. It was not a scary place, though, on the contrary: it was very welcoming and calm.

"This is where I come when I want to spend some time alone" she stopped at a particular tree, which Drest recognized to be an oak.

She proceeded to sit down in its shade, pulling out a couple of books from the basket she always carried around.

"Oh, so there's more than flowers in there!" Drest teased her.

"Yes, but don't tell anyone" she put her finger on her mouth "my father cannot know I'm stealing these books from his library."

"No worries. Your secret is safe with me."

As they were talking, he sat down next to her: his bare feet touched the grass, and he could see all the bugs and the tiny animals of the forest moving, getting closer to them. He observed them and embraced all the life forms that lived on the same planet as him. Just like someone that thought about "monk stuff" would do, without any doubt.

There, in the wild woods, alone with her, he felt whole.

To love and be loved, to immerse oneself in nature, holding hands with the most special person in the world, hoping that, someday, life would be made entirely of this, the purest kind of happiness.

Prompt by  @flashfictionfridayofficial​ ☾

My first post ever, and my first fff prompt, I’ll try and be consistent! A short story about my original character Rhyd, a (self proclaimed) scientist, and his way of spending Halloween night.

Word Count: 685

Warnings: Self-Harm, Bullying, Horror Elements

No. Not again.

With the following electric discharge, my body started to shake.

Another night will go by in my laboratory, I already knew that much.

Screwdrivers, wrenches and a multitude of other tools were scattered around me on the floor: next to them, some of what once were the bones that made up my left arm.

Too damaged to keep them attached, I decided to remove all of them instead, replacing them with a mechanical arm completely designed and built by me.

Only its last cable was left to attach, but I couldn't seem to do it properly.

On the last night of October even a self-proclaimed scientist such as me could do as he pleases. All the electricity, the obsessive, ceaseless ticking of the clocks, the ear drumming noise of the gears turning, my own screams of pain, even, would have been justified through the use of a single word: Halloween.

Not that on that awful, completely isolated mountain top on which I chose to live I would have found another person, not to mention a child. Not even a trace.

But that's not a problem.

I work insanely better in total isolation.

Furthermore, that meant more candy for me.

Anyway, all the pieces seemed to finally be in place.

That was the precise moment in which I knew I had to try and do it: there was a specific reason why I built that arm in that exact way.

I opened up my mechanical palm, and a blue light came flashing out. A huge smile appeared on my face.

It worked.

All the noises had disappeared, the static was gone.

The only one that kept on moving was me.

I did it.

I froze time.

Have you any idea of what that meant?

There was no way to predict what my science could be able to achieve.

I could do anything I set my mind to.

I'm sure you're wondering what's the purpose of all the clocks hanging on my walls.

Well, here's your answer: I monitor time.

I managed to build a device that helps me navigate through timelines.

Exactly.

Past, Present, Future. All of them at my disposal.

"It will never happen. Just give it up." I've heard those words countless times, and each time I've shrugged them off.

They don't know what it's like, being pushed against a wall every day, being punched in the face, being spit on.

My only guilt? I breathe. I'm alive. I exist. I'm sorry, Your Honor, I don't think there's anything I could ever do to fix that.

But there are some things I'm sure I can do.

I can try and study human nature, more and more, and learn how to fix them. They lack empathy. They lack feeling. I'm sure that there was a time, long ago, when people lived in harmony, surrounded by love.

I will find that timeline, and do anything that's in my power, and even more, if necessary, to make it stay that way.

Changing the Past in the name of a better Future. Yes, that's my mission.

But if I want to achieve that, I need to acknowledge my own limits first.

So I keep experimenting on the human body, but not any human body.

I would never hurt another living being, even though humans may deserve to suffer, considering all the suffering they inflict on others on a daily basis.

I try really hard to keep all the bones of those I hate in the places they're supposed to be.

But researching on my own ones is fine. They've always been so soft, I've never worried that much. Why should breaking some of them be regarded as a mistake, an act of violence, even? What wrong could a little pain possibly do in the great scheme of things? Myriads of universes, hundreds of timelines and worlds to explore in order to fully get to know mankind and its limits.

That's the only way to succeed.