Writing Prompt Lost things

[RepresentingEnvy]

Following the disappearance of many prolific members of these forums, the goalposts have been moved. The forums are lost without a place to call home. In light of this, your job is to tell me a story about something/someone finding a place where they belong.

There is no rule about formatting, and it can be serious or comedic. Just don't put something like the Linkin Park song Somewhere I Belong.

 

[HelloHound]

Her fingers impatiently tapped on the dead screen of her phone, hoping to inspire the device to show her the rest of the path to her meeting. It was a series of stupid thoughts that led her foolhardy walk to the destination rather than just calling a cab, but it'll be a funny story when she finally arrives at her meeting. Several hours late at her current meandering pace as she continuously tapped at the screen, successful in only smudging it.
With a gusty sigh she looked around for a fellow stranger on the sidewalk and picked one that looked the least murderous before calling out to it,
"Hey, can you help me with directions?"
The kindly stranger nodded and asked where she needed to go, paling when she smilingly said the name of the hotel she's supposed to have her meeting in
Directions given, she waved happily as she walked into the building freely, not noticing the strained smile of the friendly stranger that just led her to her doom, trying to justify their actions by saying she'll be living it up in the hotel California

 

[Sola-sama]

Spoiler: Warlord Zola

I, Zola, is feared by many, loved by a select few. My name is whispered in the shadows of the desert, carried on the winds of fear. They call me a warlord, a bandit, a scourge of the land. But they do not know me, not truly.

My child soldi- *cough*, permanent interns- filled warband are more than marauders. They are bound by loyalty and iron fist as I kidna- early recruit and trained them personally. We roam the vast desert, seeking what others would call riches, but to me, a fun game. Blood diamond, gold, rare earths—these are the spoils of our campaigns.

The sun beats down upon us as we ride across the endless sands, our humvees laden with pillaged goods. I look upon my slav- *cough*, I mean permanent interns, their faces etched with despair and indignance. They are on the brink of mental collapse. Hmph, perhaps it is time for me to train a new batch.

As we approach a small mining village by the river, our presence is heralded by the cries of alarm. We descend upon them like a storm, our Kalashnikovs bloomed flowers of flame under the sunlight, their scorching projectiles stayed true to its target. The villagers put up a futile resistance, but they are no match for us. We plundered what we desire and leave the rest in flames.

But amidst the chaos and destruction, I feel a pang of emptiness. I shouldn't have killed these people so quickly. I have yet to inflict the worse suffering imaginable. I am a man of violence, born of a world that knows only bloodshed. But deep down, I yearn for something more, something greater than mere raiding and pillaging.

As we ride away from the burning village, I look out across the desert. In the distance, I see a pair of adolescent girls, brats. Their most notable feature is the first had dark red hair, while the other, black. Moreover, their eyes are glowing red under the darkness.

Before I could utter a word, my vision turned crimson and my consciousness fade.

When I woke up, my humvee has been turned into a flaming wreckage, my child sol- *cough*, permanent interns, has been murdered, their corpse dried like mummy. All the wealth I've accumulated have been taken away... As I pondered about my actions and where I should continue my life from hereon out, I realized that... is this my retribution? A sign from the one above that brought me salvation and inner peace? Perhaps, I have treated my permanent interns too roughly. I will reflect upon my actions and find a new start...

...or not!!!

Those two brats are definitely vampires! I know not why those bloodsuckers tried to rob me, but I will make them pay! From henceforth... I have renewed my riason d'etre. It was no longer to pillage or plunder, it was to correct vampiric shitty brats who stole my money!

I tried.

 

[RepresentingEnvy]

Her fingers impatiently tapped on the dead screen of her phone, hoping to inspire the device to show her the rest of the path to her meeting. It was a series of stupid thoughts that led her foolhardy walk to the destination rather than just calling a cab, but it'll be a funny story when she finally arrives at her meeting. Several hours late at her current meandering pace as she continuously tapped at the screen, successful in only smudging it.
With a gusty sigh she looked around for a fellow stranger on the sidewalk and picked one that looked the least murderous before calling out to it,
"Hey, can you help me with directions?"
The kindly stranger nodded and asked where she needed to go, paling when she smilingly said the name of the hotel she's supposed to have her meeting in
Directions given, she waved happily as she walked into the building freely, not noticing the strained smile of the friendly stranger that just led her to her doom, trying to justify their actions by saying she'll be living it up in the hotel California

/5
Livin' it up at the hotel California/5

 

[ElijahRyne]

Following the disappearance of many prolific members of these forums, the goalposts have been moved. The forums are lost without a place to call home. In light of this, your job is to tell me a story about something/someone finding a place where they belong.

There is no rule about formatting, and it can be serious or comedic. Just don't put something like the Linkin Park song Somewhere I Belong.

Time allows for changes to all things, and all things change. Like the dregs I used to call friends. Like myself. I do not belong there with them. Senh has become insistent on feeding on the, and creating, anger in others. Jet has fallen to his vices, and Mil is insistent on finding new ones.

Creativity is the domain of sentience, and community a key to humanity. So it was that I created one. A community based on helping others. For now this is where I belong, but with time all things change.

 

[RepresentingEnvy]

Spoiler: Warlord Zola

I, Zola, is feared by many, loved by a select few. My name is whispered in the shadows of the desert, carried on the winds of fear. They call me a warlord, a bandit, a scourge of the land. But they do not know me, not truly.

My child soldi- *cough*, permanent interns- filled warband are more than marauders. They are bound by loyalty and iron fist as I kidna- early recruit and trained them personally. We roam the vast desert, seeking what others would call riches, but to me, a fun game. Blood diamond, gold, rare earths—these are the spoils of our campaigns.

The sun beats down upon us as we ride across the endless sands, our humvees laden with pillaged goods. I look upon my slav- *cough*, I mean permanent interns, their faces etched with despair and indignance. They are on the brink of mental collapse. Hmph, perhaps it is time for me to train a new batch.

As we approach a small mining village by the river, our presence is heralded by the cries of alarm. We descend upon them like a storm, our Kalashnikovs bloomed flowers of flame under the sunlight, their scorching projectiles stayed true to its target. The villagers put up a futile resistance, but they are no match for us. We plundered what we desire and leave the rest in flames.

But amidst the chaos and destruction, I feel a pang of emptiness. I shouldn't have killed these people so quickly. I have yet to inflict the worse suffering imaginable. I am a man of violence, born of a world that knows only bloodshed. But deep down, I yearn for something more, something greater than mere raiding and pillaging.

As we ride away from the burning village, I look out across the desert. In the distance, I see a pair of adolescent girls, brats. Their most notable feature is the first had dark red hair, while the other, black. Moreover, their eyes are glowing red under the darkness.

Before I could utter a word, my vision turned crimson and my consciousness fade.

When I woke up, my humvee has been turned into a flaming wreckage, my child sol- *cough*, permanent interns, has been murdered, their corpse dried like mummy. All the wealth I've accumulated have been taken away... As I pondered about my actions and where I should continue my life from hereon out, I realized that... is this my retribution? A sign from the one above that brought me salvation and inner peace? Perhaps, I have treated my permanent interns too roughly. I will reflect upon my actions and find a new start...

...or not!!!

Those two brats are definitely vampires! I know not why those bloodsuckers tried to rob me, but I will make them pay! From henceforth... I have renewed my riason d'etre. It was no longer to pillage or plunder, it was to correct vampiric shitty brats who stole my money!

I tried.

5/5 storytelling
The crime transpired
Sola's lunch money was acquired
The poor sla- soldiers were fired
But in the end, Sola got Vampired.

Time allows for changes to all things, and all things change. Like the dregs I used to call friends. Like myself. I do not belong there with them. Senh has become insistent on feeding on the, and creating, anger in others. Jet has fallen to his vices, and Mil is insistent on finding new ones.

Creativity is the domain of sentience, and community a key to humanity. So it was that I created one. A community based on helping others. For now this is where I belong, but with time all things change.

Confusion/5
3/5 storytelling

 

[ElijahRyne]

Confusion/5

Good

 

[Reinaislost]

A maid is one female servant who helps with all the household chores and tasks appointed to her by the master or mistress of the house. And it is only luck that helps a maid like me find a good home and, above all, a good master to work with.

Though it is only the affluent who can afford to have maids, not all affluent are the same; some are good and kind, and some are evil and cruel. However, I find myself very lucky in this matter, as God has given me a very kind family to work with.

My master’s family consists of four people. My mistress Lady Evelyn, her two daughters, Lady Alice and Lady Veronica, and one son, Lord Robert. A long time before, prior to even my mistress moved to this mansion about 14 years ago, I heard my mother used to work in this same family as a scullery maid, just as her daughter.

The thought is enough to make me burst into a smile. She isn't dead. There are still people who cared for her and would talk fondly of her and laugh about how melodramatic a person she was. It was nice learning new things about her. Furthermore, she isn't dead!

But she supposedly had died in a terrible accident, as did my father soon after. I must have been four at the time, because my memory of her is quite fuzzy. On that note, I’m a bad girl for not even remembering my father’s face. Please forgive me for this one, God?

After the incident, it was Lady Evelyn who took me in. Nearly seven years have passed since then, and I must say the mistress and her children were very considerate towards me. They have all been kind and caring.

Still, there were times when I'd think about my mother, wondering what kind of life I'd have led if she were here, and then I'd realize how selfish of me it actually was. How sad must it have been for the mistress when she lost the person she was married to? Or her children, who, unlike me, surely remember their father?

Besides, I’ve been given a fine home to serve, clothes to wear, foods to eat, and, furthermore, my own quarter to comfortably sleep in. If it were not for them, I might—no, I'd not even have a roof on my head. Who knew what would have happened if that were to be the case, I shudder to think. Thank God for your kindness to this ungrateful child.


^This isn't completely orignal. I read the essay 2 years ago and the idea popped up.

 

[RepresentingEnvy]

A maid is one female servant who helps with all the household chores and tasks appointed to her by the master or mistress of the house. And it is only luck that helps a maid like me find a good home and, above all, a good master to work with.

Though it is only the affluent who can afford to have maids, not all affluent are the same; some are good and kind, and some are evil and cruel. However, I find myself very lucky in this matter, as God has given me a very kind family to work with.

My master’s family consists of four people. My mistress Lady Evelyn, her two daughters, Lady Alice and Lady Veronica, and one son, Lord Robert. A long time before, prior to even my mistress moved to this mansion about 14 years ago, I heard my mother used to work in this same family as a scullery maid, just as her daughter.

The thought is enough to make me burst into a smile. She isn't dead. There are still people who cared for her and would talk fondly of her and laugh about how melodramatic a person she was. Learning new things about her is nice. Furthermore, she isn't dead.

But she supposedly died in a terrible accident, as did my father soon after. I must have been four at the time, because my memory of her is quite fuzzy.

On that note, I’m a bad girl for not even remembering my father’s face. Please forgive me for this one, God?

After the incident, it was Lady Evelyn who took me in. Nearly seven years have passed since then, and I must say the mistress and her children were very considerate towards me. They have all been kind and caring.

Still, there were times when I'd think about my mother, wondering what kind of life I'd have led if she were here, and then I'd realize how selfish of me it actually was. How sad must it have been for the mistress when she lost the person she was married to? Or her children, who, unlike me, surely remember their father?

Besides, I’ve been given a fine home to serve, clothes to wear, foods to eat, and, furthermore, my own quarter to comfortably sleep in. If it were not for them, I might—no, I'd not even have a roof on my head. Who knew what would have happened if that were to be the case, I shudder to think. Thank God for your kindness to this ungrateful child.


^This isn't completely orignal. I read the essay 2 years ago and the idea popped up.

5/5 I love it!
This was a good read. Thanks for sharing, and I don't mind that it was two years ago. It's related to the prompt, and it's a lovely short story.

 

[Reinaislost]

5/5 I love it!
This was a good read. Thanks for sharing, and I don't mind that it was two years ago. It's related to the prompt, and it's a lovely short story.

Maybe.

Spoiler: Probably better off ignoring.

The long version I wrote goes along like this: the mc's father was abusive to her mother and also, um, basically sa-ed her, which was how she got pregnant. Yes, the father is the mistress's husband. They are the same person—not dead, but in prison. So basically, the text paints a contrast to what she is actually saying. A dark undertone to the wholesomeness.

 

[RepresentingEnvy]

Maybe.

Spoiler: Probably better off ignoring.

The long version I wrote goes along like this: the mc's father was abusive to her mother and also, um, basically sa-ed her, which was how she got pregnant. Yes, the father is the mistress's husband. They are the same person—not dead, but in prison. So basically, the text paints a contrast to what she is actually saying. A dark undertone to the wholesomeness.

Yeah, there is that dark undertone, but the dark undertone doesn't make it not a nice read. It just makes it more Enteresting.

 

[AYM]

Spoiler: Unfinished (1/?)

​

The flight of stairs leading up to the main gate was littered with corpses, haphazardly kicked to the side. And thus it was up there, in front of a broken gate, the man in red robes spoke.

"From this point forward, the Sword between Mountains Sect is disbanded. Never will another sect bear its name for ten thousand years; never will any of you speak of its revival for the rest of your lives."

He coldly sneered as he eyed every one of us, then motioned for a burly man behind him, who was holding onto the sect's signboard. The man stepped forward, and tightly gripping the board with one hand, he clawed a hole through each of the characters with his other.

"Know of this kindness well. All of you would do well to remember it."

Although the man continued to speak, I was not able to register the next words coming out of his mouth. I just dumbly stared.

The mouth opened and closed, the lips moved up and down, and sometimes I could catch a glimpse of the tongue shifting about the teeth. By the laws of Heaven this somehow constructed a string of low-pitched noises, and accompanying this tune were the black birds in the distant that sung promises of a found feast. The periodic shuffling of shoes against gravel and the clinking of steel formed a hypnotic, loosely organized rhythm, and together they formed a cacophonous ensemble probably nobody enjoyed.

How am I supposed to feel when he gestured toward the desecrated corpses of the old masters for a third time? What am I supposed to learn by looking at the severed heads they proudly waved on wooden pikes? I do not know. I really do not know.

For a moment, I swore one of the waved heads blinked at me; I turned my attention toward it.

Among the heads were a few elders or other figures who I ashamedly did not remember, but I recognized the Sect Leader and I recognized the Elder Yao who managed the library. Although both of her eyes were gouged out, I still recognized the Elder She who loitered at Punishment Hall and the Elder Xiong who worked there and bickered with her like an old couple. And then, I saw Master.

Master definitely did not deserve this.

At some point later in time the man finished talking, so they organized us into a line as we were stripped of our belongings in quick succession. One by one, a former disciples of a disgraced sect in the front of the line handed over their removed uniform. One by one, they rummaged through it before tossing it onto a burning pile.

Another man had walked down the line to confiscate weaponry. When it was my turn, he smirked after he seized the sheathed sword by my waist.

"A good sword! Allow me to take it off your hands. As a reward, maybe you can take a nearby broken tree branch with you. Hahaha!" He guffawed at his own joke as he moved past me in the line.

​

 

[RepresentingEnvy]

Spoiler: Unfinished (1/?)

​

The flight of stairs leading up to the main gate was littered with corpses, haphazardly kicked to the side. And thus it was up there, in front of a broken gate, the man in red robes spoke.

"From this point forward, the Sword between Mountains Sect is disbanded. Never will another sect bear its name for ten thousand years; never will any of you speak of its revival for the rest of your lives."

He coldly sneered as he eyed every one of us, then motioned for a burly man behind him, who was holding onto the sect's signboard. The man stepped forward, and tightly gripping the board with one hand, he clawed a hole through each of the characters with his other.

"Know of this kindness well. All of you would do well to remember it."

Although the man continued to speak, I was not able to register the next words coming out of his mouth. I just dumbly stared.

The mouth opened and closed, the lips moved up and down, and sometimes I could catch a glimpse of the tongue shifting about the teeth. By the laws of Heaven this somehow constructed a string of low-pitched noises, and accompanying this tune were the black birds in the distant that sung promises of a found feast. The periodic shuffling of shoes against gravel and the clinking of steel formed a hypnotic, loosely organized rhythm, and together they formed a cacophonous ensemble probably nobody enjoyed.

How am I supposed to feel when he gestured toward the desecrated corpses of the old masters for a third time? What am I supposed to learn by looking at the severed heads they proudly waved on wooden pikes? I do not know. I really do not know.

For a moment, I swore one of the waved heads blinked at me; I turned my attention toward it.

Among the heads were a few elders or other figures who I ashamedly did not remember, but I recognized the Sect Leader and I recognized the Elder Yao who managed the library. Although both of her eyes were gouged out, I still recognized the Elder She who loitered at Punishment Hall and the Elder Xiong who worked there and bickered with her like an old couple. And then, I saw Master.

Master definitely did not deserve this.

At some point later in time the man finished talking, so they organized us into a line as we were stripped of our belongings in quick succession. One by one, a former disciples of a disgraced sect in the front of the line handed over their removed uniform. One by one, they rummaged through it before tossing it onto a burning pile.

Another man had walked down the line to confiscate weaponry. When it was my turn, he smirked after he seized the sheathed sword by my waist.

"A good sword! Allow me to take it off your hands. As a reward, maybe you can take a nearby broken tree branch with you. Hahaha!" He guffawed at his own joke as he moved past me in the line.

​

Junior you dare? Slap yourself a thousand times with this broken tree branch!/5

 

[AYM]

Junior you dare? Slap yourself a thousand times with this broken tree branch!/5

It's not yet finished/5