Writing Prompts

47 + special

Every time you go to sleep, you wake up in a different body, and it usually takes a few tries before you get back to your own. The thing is, the body you posses that isn't yours must not die, whether before it's time to sleep or during. If the body does die, so will you.

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Prompt #44;
The hero fails.

A knee to the stomach. The sound of broken ribs followed by a low grunt before the hero's body fell to the ground, their limbs numb and unable to move. They were a broken doll instead of the brave and mighty. The strong and loyal.

Their breathing came out ragged and heavy, the bruises and hits taken all over their body only worsening the pain. Soon, they'd be unconscious. A prey to the demons to pick and nib at.

Pathetic. Weak. Useless.

They couldn't even get up, nor summon any strength to do so. Fuck the great prophecy. It was all bullshit. Too big of a weight to carry for them and now here they were, lying face first on the dirt ground like some dead beat.

They gripped the small pieces of stone under them. Anger and resentment rising.

No, it's not going to end with a pathetic hero dying on the dirty and broken ground. Not like a coward who dreamed too big and hoped for too much. They fought to get where they were, and they would damn hell and heaven if they were to end as a no one.

They would surviv-

"Stay down, you pathetic fool." A chilling voice rang over the once quiet throne room, a foot had shoved their face down again, and with no hint of gentleness. They let out a groan again, barely visible with how little strength they had left.

"You think you'll miraculously summon the willpower and strength to win? HA! I'd swallow that shit down where it came again."  The voice taunted, their foot now rubbing their face against the hard stone, before suddenly taking away the weight.

The hero looked up, or tried to, only to be suddenly pulled by the hair, forcefully and painfully, into the air. They winced, meeting eye to eye with the owner of the voice.

It was a demon no doubt, with long black hair, flowing against some unseen wind, no strand out of place. It had small stars in them, as if it were a galaxy woven into their head.

Their eyes were black as well, smoke coming out of them along with the mouth.

They looked beautiful, in a twisted way, the hero had to admit with even more disgust. How could they appreciate an enemy?

The demon smiled a crooked smile, sharp teeth in display as the grip against their hair tightened.

"Fools like you really disgust me."

The hero wouldn't give up.

They took ahold of the hand gripping their hair, trying to tug it off, but to no avail.

"Fools like you believe in bullshit the batshit crazy prophets speak of. Blindly following without a second thought. It's so fucking funny until you find out those cocky bitches seem to always win."  Their voice turned sour, distaste visible.

"Let me tell you a few things. THERE ALL FUCKING LIES. THERE ALL FUCKING BULLSHIT AFTER BULLSHIT UNTIL YOU GET A WHOLE CRAP LOAD OF THEM ENOUGH FOR THE PEOPLE TO BELIEVE."

The hero was tossed away, flying so hard it hit the King's throne. They were laying half conscious, sitting lazily on the throne of the now dead King.

The demon came to them in a flash.

"You don't deserve that seat. No one fucking human who has the audacity to call themselves great does."  They smiled the same crooked smile.

"You're pathetic, worthless and utterly useless. And you'll stay as one."

Maybe if the "hero" wasn't so numbed, they could've felt the full effect of the sword stabbing through their stomach.

But they did feel the waves of emotion rushing through them as they meet the demon's eye one last time before their journey ends.

"You're a failure, hero."