Weekly Writer's Challenge | Week #11 Addict

Weekly Writer's Challenge | Week #11 Addict


So I recently posted Ch 4 of Foul Play, and I’m dropping by to bring you an excerpt of Ch 5! A bit of context: Grimsley, Nanu, and Acerola return to the Aether House after the events in Ch 4. Shortly after, Nanu has a nightmare and causes everyone to wake up weeee.

Excerpt from Ch 5

Nanu’s arm slammed onto the coffee table the instant he jolted awake. He screamed in pain and cursed as he rubbed his arm. He glanced around to see he was inside the Aether House and that he slept on the couch. His breathing grew heavier with each second. The commotion caused Oranguru to stir from his sleep and growled in confusion. Acerola, Grimsley, Becky, and the kids rushed out of their rooms.

“We heard both you and Oranguru screaming, is everything all right?” Becky asked, panic in her voice.

“I just had a bad dream and I scared the Oranguru, that’s all.”

“That must be a really bad dream if you woke up Headmaster like that,’ Gracie said, frowning. Behind her, the Oranguru growled as if in agreement.

This wasn’t the first time he had that nightmare. It would spring up to him like a cat’s claws digging onto his shoulders. Over ten years now, and it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. He sighed, sat up straight, and rubbed his forehead.

“Do you need a glass of water? You look kinda pale there,” Acerola asked.

Nanu shook his head. “Not thirsty. I’m fine, really.”

Both Becky and Acerola exchanged worried looks at one another.

“We all should go back to sleep,” Becky said. “Let’s go.”

Acerola and the kids followed Becky back to their rooms while Oranguru went back to the reception area. Grimsley, who had been raising his eyebrow at him the whole time, stayed behind.

“Is there something that you needed?” Nanu asked, giving him a vacant stare.

“Oh, I was just wondering something.” A hesitant look crossed Grimsley’s face. He shifted his gaze away from him and scratched his neck. “That nightmare you had, would it happen to be about that late colleague of yours?”

Hearing that made Nanu grimace. He jerked his head and glared at him.

“What I told you back at the desert was all you needed to know.”

Grimsley shot him a funny look, and he sighed. “Fair enough. Well, I’ll be going to sleep now. Good night.” He waved goodbye at him and went inside his room.

When left alone, Nanu collapsed back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. Between that and how Grimsley wanted to have a Pokemon battle with him, he wondered why that man had a great interest in someone as messed up as him. He hoped that Grimsley didn’t plan to stick around too long now.

His thoughts were interrupted when one of his pokeballs from the table burst open and Persian appeared. She approached him with an upset look on her face and growled. Nanu frowned.

“Perry…” he said in a low voice. Usually he wasn’t one for nicknames and was content calling her Persian ninety-nine percent of the time. Perry, short for the periwinkle flower and what Iokua would often called her. Perry was saved for whenever he was his most vulnerable, like right now.

Persian let out another sad growl, had her front paws on Nanu’s stomach, and nuzzled against his neck. Her silky fur was warm against his skin. Nanu couldn’t help but crack a smile and scratch her forehead.

“Just another one of those nightmares buddy, don’t worry about me.”

Nanu continued petting her a while longer until she decided to rest her head on his stomach. He smiled, fine with her company for tonight. He soon drifted off to sleep.


Nina: 50
Kiyotaka_Ishimaru: 20
Astropaw: 20
Flower_Child: 20
Fawful: 10
Bay: 10



Watch the hand - there’s a pattern. Flex, and it smolders; form a fist, see the smoke filter through the curled fingers. And now that’s it alight, back up, be careful. The pile of leaves are a conductor. A snap - a gush of brilliant flame, gone as soon as it lashes over the pile and sets it aflame.



"Good heavens!"

Young and fearless, grin and bear it - this is what you can do. A brand of magic entirely new, delivered and domesticated by your own two hands. So put them on your hips, glow with pride, as the coven wails and cries, because you are its continuation as much as they deny it.

“Put it out! Put it out! Put it out!”

A rake lays abandoned. Morag would have preferred cleaning the yard as quick as she could - it is the first time she has spent out of her library this fall. But you convinced her, today, she would see something transformative.

“Please, put it out!” She’s begging. Her face is pink - she’s shaking.

“For her sake!” Blue-Bottle, bold enough to approach you. She wrings your wrists, with no hard eyes this time, no looking down over her little glasses, no reluctance utterance of truly helpful advice. She is scared pale and pleading with you. "Please."

“Put it out!”

Burning leaves is more effective than flinging them out into the woods - that was your argument before. Because it was ridding this place of the bad without leaving a trail - you can’t look back, and neither will they. Remove the hags, those decrepit and bizaare who simply don’t belong. Turn them to ashes, and don’t look back.

And the family that remains, that is Aunt Morag, is sobbing, and bound to collapse. Blue-Bottle has given in to that deep-seated instinct to run from the flame of judgement. She trounces to Morag’s side as the older coven member threatens to collapse into the grass.

And the hag, the filty pagan, breathes, “Oh, God.

You stand above them, smoke wreathing from your hands, a sensation alight in your upper arms - you’re angry, but in the end, you’re a little girl, still learning, still very small.

You knit your palms together, breathe. On the exhale, the raging, writhing flame poofs, leaving a pile of blackened debris and the stench of burned leaves on still wind.


“They’re coming,” John said to his wife, “It’s not safe here in Salem, not anymore. Sarah Good is in prison now, to be burned in two days time.”
“No, they can’t take me!” The man’s wife whimperingly says, bundling her things in a on an old flour sac.
“Why, of course not,” he says, looking at his wife, “You really don’t think you can make it on foot, do you? Take Maisey, and ride until you get to the next town.”
“No!” She exclaims, insitantly, “I will not take our best horse, how on earth will you plow the fields? I won’t…”
“Jane Marie Taylor,” he comands, handing her a rope, “there are more important things, like your safety! The saddle is in the cellar, I’ll go down to get it. Be swift now, tie your hair, and I’ll fetch you one of my old hats.”
Without time to object, Jane make a hair bun and secured it with some old sewing pins. She knew she couldn’t stop him, he had the will of a boar, and was as protective as a queen with her kittens. She foucused on a few words at a time, that being to only way she could perform tasks.Jane could hear screaming i the distance and can smell smoke.
John rushes in holding a old straw hat with peices falling off it and a saddle. “Go,” he says, I’ll bye you time!" He cringes as he cuts cuts his hand, gasping in pain.
Jane leaves, hoping the cover of nightfall will protect her. She saddles the Maisey methodically, and they leave with impressive speed. A flood of relief spills over her, as she watches the town’s lights fade. She hears a gunshot and is in minor shock, almost falling off the horse.

At the homestead, John walks toward the sherif slowly, knife in hand.
The sherif shot his gun in the air, “Jane Taylor, you are being convicted of…”
John interjects, “I found out she was a witch and killed her straightaway.” He reveals is hands, trying not to manifest the pain.
As the sherif slowly inspected the hands, a piece of grass bumping up and down in his moulth, the dutiful husband searched his face for cues. He hoped the surplus of blood would hide the cuts in his hands. The man’s hazel eyes squint carefully, his small lips arched on his rugged, sunburnt face.
His face softens slowly, then his eyebrowls raise quickly. “What did you do with the body, may I ask?” He cruely inquires.
“Burned it, of corse! Is that not the only way to destory a soul corrupted by the devil?” He answers, almost to the point of yelling.
The sherif smiles and nods, satified. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find another, being so dashing and brave.”
John turns around quickly, not wanting to ruin what he already pulled off. That night, he tossed and turned in bed, missing the comfort of his dear wife. In the morning, he drank bland tea, that only his wife could get right. He missed her smart moulth and hyms on the piano. “At least,” he thought, “she’ll be safe.”


Nina: 50
Albert_Feu: 30
Kiyotaka_Ishimaru: 20
Flower_Child: 20
Piksel: 10
Fawful: 10
Bay: 10


missing u (529)

[09:45]Griffin - hey
----------------------just wanted to lyk how it is
----------------------been in germany about a week and classes start today
----------------------good news theres a shitload of transfer students, so im
----------------------prolly not the only guy here from the states, lol.
----------------------everyone has a different accent tho, its pretty cool

(Managing to glance up in time, he just grazed the heat emanating from three veiled girls chattering in unison. The smell of smoulder followed them down the hall, around the corner.)

----------------------still pretty disoriented tbh
----------------------like the fact im so far away hit me yesterday
----------------------idk how to really describe it, its not anxiety or anything bc …

( He was overwhelmed with chill, as if taking a wave head-on, and thereon found himself half-immersed through the body of a girl. Whipping around revealed her moving leisurely in the opposite direction, face down towards her phone - the screen shone through the back of her head: an eerie white imprint. )

( Liam started: “Vespa, I’m so sorry-” )

( “You’re cool.” And she kept walking - didn’t even look up. )

----------------------… ik people here
----------------------but also like, i dont?
----------------------idk, like i dont really feel like im here, or that i really
----------------------“matter.” i cant describe it well, again. kinda sounds depressing when i type it out

(He saw the collision before it happened - would’ve stopped himself, but Sahem kept on coming. The force shouldn’t have interfered as he ricocheted off seven feet of muscle and crocodilian armor, but it must have bruised something else of the titan’s. There was a silent exchange, one of darting slit-eyes and unspoken self-flattery. Sahem purposefully stood taller than him, looked down at him, and then coasted around him, which he could have done forty seconds earlier - gotten the same result - but, he guessed, with none of the same effect.)

(Liam didn’t want to think about it, really. He had to wrap this up. He was at least a minute late, now.)

----------------------i gotta get to class soon
----------------------gonna go to this study group thing this afternoon with a
----------------------couple guys, so i guess ill see about the whole
----------------------‘mattering’ thing if i get hella overlooked lol
----------------------they seem pre cool tho
----------------------will send pics after class :wave:

He reached the door and pushed into the lecture hall. There he was greeted with the backs of endless heads. The smoky smell gave off one of the ifrits in the hall; someone’s head danced with snakes. He glanced down at his phone, half for the time - he actually wasn’t technically late, to his shock - and half to see the first few responses roll in.

[font=Open Sans]Naga スネーク - :eyes: :eyes:
-------------------------------pics hyyype

[10:06] sturmfleung - dude, look forward to that study group. biggest thing i regret about college ---------------------------was not getting myself out there
---------------------------you got this :thumbsup:

[10:06] Naga スネーク - yeah, dont worry about being overlooked, make some friends :smiley:[/font]

At the front of the auditorium, Dr. Gorgoné scanned the aisles with her single-eyed stare.

“Ellison, if you could make yourself visible during instructional period.”

Shit. “Sorry. It’s… automatic.”

“I understand. Please have a seat.”


I have no idea why the last font tag is broken lol.

Definitely like this one more than my earlier entry! Not sure how hard I nailed down the “missing (a) person(s)” part…


Nina: 50
Albert_Feu: 30
Piksel: 20
Kiyotaka_Ishimaru: 20
Flower_Child: 20
Fawful: 10
Bay: 10


Part of a concept idea I had.

The thread for this dimension was weak. This weakness allowed travel through it to other threads of our multiverse. This was the first time, however, the he found himself in the space between worlds. Thick liquid, moving impossibly forward and back through time stool before him, along with other threads of the same liquid branching off each other, flowing in and out. He already knew of how different threads were created, a decision on if you wanted cold pizza or eggs in the morning. By lunch, this decision was so universally boring that the thread eats the new reality back up. Everything the same, but you swore there was still pizza left in the fridge when you got home. Yet, to see these small threads pull and part and be eaten again by the thick rope, was something else entirely. He was floating, as if really in outer space itself but had no trouble breathing. He felt neither warm nor cold. Wondering, if this was death? No, he moved forward. He could still feel his ability to move dimensions or so it seemed - hopped through these threads. With a push he was back to where he had wanted to go. He swore he could see the movement between worlds this time, if only for a second. He had been corned by some thugs, and his wish to move to a world identical, but where they had left a little earlier was searched for and found. Such a small reason to move, but he’d been doing it for years when it suited him. Yet now, everything was different. He had seen the space between.


s p a c e

initializing EXODUStalk.exe…
opening chat client…
establishing connection…
connection failed.


processing command…
connection to server ignored…
chat client opened successfully!


processing command…
one (1) encrypted message from @ADMINphe detected…
please enter password…

> oooooooooo

processing password…
password accepted.
opening encrypted message…

Janymelle, if you’re reading this, Orpheus has made contact to the Earth, and has destroyed the planet. I’m breaking protocol right now just to say that I miss you so much and I hope you have passed the Asteroid belt right now. I know we fought before you left, and it fucking sucks that I couldn’t even apologize for what had happened between us… Look, before I die, I just want to say I’m sorry, and I know I wouldn’t be able to see you anymore, or hear your forgiveness by the time you receive this. Heck, you might not even forgive me then, but I just wanted to let you know that it shouldn’t have ended the way it should’ve had. Anyways, good luck in repopulating the human race in Arganon. I love you -phelyx

> i forgive you phe… i love you too.

unable to send message [ERROR 1: Connection to server failed]


shutting down EXODUStalk.exe


I like it, very creative and tragic


Nina: 60
Albert_Feu: 30
Piksel: 20
Kiyotaka_Ishimaru: 20
Flower_Child: 20
Salzorrah: 10
Fawful: 10
Bay: 10


I walk into my new school, everyone looks at me funny. “His hair,” “his cloths,” they wisper in low voices. A boy comes up to me, few inches taller. His hair is cut short and he wear a white tank top, which shows off well worked muscles. “I know your secret!” he says in a midwestern accent*. My heart beats in my temples, “So what,” I say back. “So this, says shit,” he says, and socks me in the stomach hard. For some reason, I don’t feel any pain. I wake up, breathing hard and crying. I sit there for hours calming myself down. When I fall back alseep, all I feel in the pit of my stomach is nasty, painful dread.

*is similar to a soulthern accent, but not as extremely twang-ey

Something like this happened the night before my first day of school thsi year, but not quite as bad. It turns out, my new school isn’t that bad. I have a few friends and a lot of nice teachers.


Missing you
This one’s less of a creative peice and more of a sad peice.

I miss Kansas. The flat, tranquil land is ideal for farming, raising animals, and horseback riding. The people are very hard working and friendly, always having a sickle in one hand, with the other to help you out. Our little town of meade is all you could ever need. I taught me to be satisfied with a little, and enjoy the good. I learned how to work hard and ride a horse. It taught me that you don’t have to have the same veiws and someone to get along with them. It taught me that bigger isn’t always better.(don’t take that out of context) The sunsets were divine, makes me wonder if people ride off into the sunset, not because they like eachother, but because they want to get closer to the natural beauty. Alex and Johnney are the cream of the crop, best friends you could ever ask for. Alex did what he wanted, without caring too much about what other people think.
“Haters gonna hate, so fuck them, mind my french”
Johnney was more timid. He attended church and could wrangle a bunch of sheep faster than any dog. He liked all the girls, and probably dated all 17 in our grade. I guess 19 if you count the twins that moved out.
“Don’t do drugs, that’s jus tplain old stupid”

I will forever miss our little home on the range


Nina: 60
Albert_Feu: 50
Piksel: 20
Kiyotaka_Ishimaru: 20
Flower_Child: 20
Salzorrah: 10
Fawful: 10
Bay: 10