《DICE》THREE
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1 P.M.
It takes an eternity to lose the paralyzing numbness in my limbs, but slowly and unwillingly, the pain subsides and a rough sense of clarity returns to my mind. My eyes learn to focus. On the faint cracks in the walls, the growing spot of mold in the corner, the little spider dancing its way up my fingers.
I’m in the basement of my own home. But not quite. The basement I remember was stacked to the ceiling with garbage we can’t seem to throw away, walls brown and peeling.
But I smell the walls before I notice, freshly painted chemical eggshell. It is a small room, not unlike my own. A mattress in the corner, a desk next to it. And above the wall it leans against, there’s a small narrow window. The grate paints over the room with small squares of sunlight.
And it was clean. What had been boxes after boxes of overflowing crap, the basement now left no trace of its once unruly past. I had hated this room. The place where things go to die. When I got too old for Mr. Teddy. My bike. My action figures with one head too little and arms all wrong.
I guess, now it’s my turn. What the fuck.
The only thing I recognize, is the same old staircase and the same old door it leads up to. The red basement door. It’s a stark, angry color, like fury in color-scale, and it seems to loom over the otherwise ashen room, ominous and taunting at once.
I try to stand, but it’s an impossible feat. I’m grounded by a bodily ache I cannot shake. Instead, I rest my weight on my knees, and unsteadily, step by step, I crawl up the staircase. It’s longer than it looks, because by the time I make it to the top step, my chest is on fire and I’m gasping deep helpless breaths.
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I climb up slowly against the door, until my hand meets the cold metal of the door handle. A startling thought rips through my mind, brutal and cruel. They’re going to be sorry for what they did. Then I turn the handle.
But the door stays shut. I hear the shift of the bolts unlatching, but the door does not budge.. I try again, again, and again, until I press my ear against the door and I hear the muffled rattle of metal padlocks through the thick wood and something cold crawls up my spine. It’s trepidation or shock or something of the mix. I’m pulsating with an amalgamation of horror and anger and it makes my fingers shake.
They curl to a fist. “Let me out,” I say.
When there is no reply, I rattle the door handle again. “Is this some sort of sick joke,” I laugh, but a bubble of dread rises to my throat. I twist and jerk and in my wild desperation attempt to rip the handle from its installation, but only to complete and utter futility. What if they can’t hear me? Instead I bang my fist against the door and I yell, “I said let me out!”
My throat feels scorched by fire. But I grit my teeth to scream again. And again. Yet all I am met with is the echo of my own voice, harsh and strangled.
I turn the door handle again, and this time, I push with all my might. My bones strain. My muscles cramp. The door stresses against the padlock, but it leaves a slither of space between the door and the frame. Just enough to get a glimpse through the gap. Immediately, I recoil, jerking back from the door.
They’re standing behind the door. Both of them. Still as a painting. My father stares back at me. Dark blue eyes of my own, like looking into a mirror. Was it the faint smile? The crinkles in his cheeks? The lack of regard in his eyes? In an instant, my surprise morphs to a violence I’ve never known myself to possess.
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I propel myself into the door. Jamming my shoulder into the hard wood. It should hurt, but it doesn’t. I’m numb all over again. And I’m screaming, untamable, unrestrained, wild screeches. “LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT!” I’m kicking, beating at the door, and I hear the metal rattle like my teeth.
But I would not be worthy of a response. The louder I was, the angrier, the stiller everything else was, the quieter. It drains me. My wrath sliding off my slicked skin and saturating the floor. Eventually, I hear their soft footsteps treading away from the door. And I hear my mother turn on the vacuum, her favorite song humming through the house in its sweet muted notes.
I stare at the door for some time, gasping for breath or in disbelief I will never know. My legs feel weak, my head heavy, but my chest is tight, strained by an anger that keeps me upright. Tiny splinters in the door mark my arms with littles holes, and like tiny planted seeds, they unfurl from my body in crimson lesions and red splotches; It turns my tongue poison. I close my eyes to imagine their soulless bodies still hovering behind the door. Their cruel eyes. Their hateful silence.
Then I spit at their feet.
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Lineage Saga (Kingdom Building Fantasy)
[participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge] The continent of Erdenia is in flux, nations large and small move to swallow their neighbors. Roving bands of marauders pillage the countryside, and the seas are choked with piracy. Against this backdrop upon the central island of Syroneika exists the Mercan League, an alliance of city states ruled by the Archon from his seat in the Capital, Merlabria. Yet all is not well beneath the surface. The Archon’s health is waning, while the House of Mercan appears on the verge of conflict. Both princes vie for the Archonship, with the aristocracy close behind looking to settle old scores. In the immediate west the Althai Federation is in a state of civil war, the conflict spilling over the border into the League, while nobles’ squabble over petty slights. In this time of growing conflict, the Archon has summoned the warlord of the southern frontier, bulwark against the horrors of the dark forest, and former Grand Scholar of the court. Behind the scenes pieces are in play, and the Scholar possesses numerous enemies, many still envious of his meteoric rise to power. A simple trip to the capital may be more than it appears. However, the branches of fate are fickle things, a single encounter could change the course of history. Or perhaps that is simply the will of fate, and nothing has changed at all, who could know? Could the meeting between a simple slave and a warlord truly be fate’s bough? And if so, where could that lead? Read this if you like: Army Building Rational Combat War and Strategy Gritty Violence in a Dark unforgiving world Realistic and engaging characters Medieval/Classical Economics and R&D Do not read if: Looking for OP MC (power gain is gradual) Last minute Deus Ex Machina moments Want Evil enemies who are evil just to be villains Can't stand Slow Development and extensive world building You can join the Discord here: Lineage Discord Channel Cover Art created by: Illusstation Check out their work: Illusstation's page Updates Monday-Thursday (Guaranteed) [more chapter releases per week are possible depending on buffer and as rewards for events I announce]
8 289On the Road to Elspar (Book 1)
The year is 1329. The Huntress' War has entered its tenth year, inflaming competing nationalisms and pitting the Confederacy of Caldrein against one of the continent's superpowers, the Tenereian Union. Desperately outnumbered, the Confederacy has relied on the prowess of its famed Caldran mercenaries, with highly-trained and experienced warbands returning from foreign conflicts to the defense of their homeland, and it is on their backs that Caldrein has successfully mounted a valiant defense for a decade. But they are losing, and day by day, with all the grace of a sledgehammer, the vast Tenereian armies take one more bit of Caldran territory, one footstep at a time. Sixteen-year-old Neianne from the village of Caelon has submitted herself to Faulkren Academy, one of the centuries-old institutions established to train the next generation of Caldrein's elite soldiers of fortune, to learn the ways of wars for three years before embarking upon the defense of her country. Her dryad family once hailed from reclusive woodland communes isolated from Caldrein's complicated mainstream society, and her upbringing leaves the shy village girl unprepared to suddenly train alongside other apprentices from backgrounds as low as the dirty slums of Caldrein's cities and as high as the halls of aristocratic power. Yet the war is eroding the norms and traditions that the Caldran people have long considered part of their national mythos, and the tensions within the confederacy that have long simmered under the surface - race, class, community, identity - are slowly but surely dividing its people, and Neianne must grow and discover who she really is, even as the war that she is steadfastly training for comes to its inexorable end... On the Road to Elspar is a fantasy quest - a work of interactive fiction wherein readers get to vote on what happens next at critical junctures - that is the first entry in a story that follows Neianne of Caelon, which first began on July 20, 2016. Originally a three-part in medias res prologue to a larger story titled On the Elsparian Road, it was eventually decided that this section - which covers Neianne's three years at Faulkren Academy - become its own independent story due to length, structural, and accessibility reasons. Despite this being a reader interactive work of fiction, due to logistical and verification concerns, voting will only be counted on its thread on the forum Sufficient Velocity, where this story originally began. As such, the content here on Royal Road serves as a story-only archive. You are, of course, entirely welcome to enjoy On the Road to Elspar as a conventional work of fiction, just as you are welcome to comment, discuss, and provide critique. But if you would like to participate in the voting, then I would be honored to welcome you on Sufficient Velocity. To facilitate accessibility and to ensure the best reading experience, this story-only version of On the Road to Elspar will be updated at a periodic pace, even though further content exists, so as to not overwhelm new readers on Royal Road. If you enjoy this story, wish to binge it, and/or want to participate in voting immediately, you may of course read all additional content via the link provided above. This paragraph will be removed once the content on Royal Road catches up with what has already been posted in its original thread. Cover artwork by DreamSyndd.
8 334God's wrath
"Foolish humans! I gave you the sun, the sky, a planet to live on! I gave you life, food and the ability to procreate and evolve! I gave you all of what you could dream of and yet you continue to kill yourself, to kill animals without reasons, to kill other humans without reasons, to kill your own home THE EARTH!" "I gave you warnings, Adam and Eve, Noa's Arch and others. Now I've had enough. I ban the entiretty of humanity of this planet and forbid any one of you to come back! But, I'll let any one of you choose your destination, choose wisely because you'll only choose once..." ------------------------------------- The story will follow sevreal poeple but only one at a time, I'll change the style with the other personnages. The first one is based on The Elder Scroll V: Skyrim.
8 143Love is not weakness (clexa) book 1
When Clarke gets told she must go to the ground all she can think about is survival nothing else, that is until she meets Lexa the commander of all 12 grounder clans.What will Clarke give to survive? and will that even be enough.As they say "the calm before the storm" well the calm never last long... just to warn you.start: 23rd April 2015finished: 3rd December 2015
8 106Vet Tech Meets The Alpha
Jack's life has always been weird. With the stereotypically snobby rich parents that never pay attention to her and gave her a boy's name, to the mysterious butler that shows up on her front porch, to the two wolves that keep coming to her house. Jack is a Vet Tech at the local clinic up in the Montana Mountains. When the Vet is on a call and two abnormally gigantic wolves show up at her clinic, Jack must take the lead and help them before it's too late. With the help of her best friend Micah and her pet baby raccoon named Critter, her life gets better. But of course it gets ruined when her cheating ex-boyfriend wants her back. ------------------------------------------------River is the alpha of the Black Moon Pack up in the mountains. He and his beta were on patrol when they were ambushed by a giant group of rogues. Lucky for them they made it to a running path. When two runners spot the bleeding wolves, they call the local clinic that Jack works at. When River sees Jack for the first time, time freezes. He knows right then and there that Jack is his mate. And he'll do anything to get her. Even if it means showing up in his wolf form in her backyard every night.Ya. So copying this story will not be tolerated. Fair warning yaHighest Ranking: #9 in Werewolf
8 93MaAn - Tale Of 2005
Story Of How destiny brings Anuj And Anupama again in front of each other after 10 years since her marriage. Will Anuj meet her?Will he be part of her life?will he go back? will She ever be Happy?All these questions answered ahead. please read to Know what happened.....[ This is work of pure Fiction based on the Storyline of Serial Anupamaa. I am not a writer but a diehard MaAn fan and their love made me write this. Avoid my mistakes. please leave your precious comments after reading. Constructive criticism is always welcome. ] HAPPY READING😊😊
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