Years ago you left. Iâm patient.
Six word story
Fai_Ryy
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Game Changer & Make Some Noise

if i look back, i am lost

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Today's Document
KIROKAZE

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Years ago you left. Iâm patient.
Six word story
Short Story: Pawn
âKnight to E4â
A young man in a checked jacket looked up at me from across a small table.
âYou know, your knight canât reach E4, especially not when youâve pulled him so far out of position.â
His voice was quiet yet powerful, the kind of voice you expected to hear out of a well-liked King or President.
âAh, Iâm sorryâ I replied, âI meant to say Pawn to E4.â
The young man scrutinized the board for a moment before locking eyes with me.
âYou canât do that either. You donât have a pawn that can go to E4â He said.
Damn. He was right. I looked for something else on the board, anything to keep me from losing.
âUm, Bishop to Rook 5?â
He looked at the board and then back at me. He simply gestured for me to make my move.
I moved the piece.
âCheck?â I asked, knowing that it wasnât going to last.
âCheck indeedâ He responded.
We waited for several minutes. Nothing happened. I looked at the young man, questions burning behind my eyes. He looked back, eyes strangely empty.
âI pass the turn?â I asked, hoping to cue him in that he should move.
The young man stood up, turned around, and began to walk away.
âWait! We havenât finished the game!â I shouted after him.
Although he was already fading from sight, I heard him speaking as though he were next to me.
âThe game already ended. You were close, though. Closer than anyone has been in a while. Congratulations.â
âI donât understand!â I shouted to the empty air, âWhat is going on?â
I heard him moving behind me. Spinning around I shouted, âFound you!â
It was him, but suddenly I wasnât in a generic park playing chess, I was in a generic park, standing in a line with several other pieces. Behind me I saw the young man, towering over the chess board I now seemed to be a part of.
âPawn to E4â
My feet started moving.
Short: Tricked
Hillary screamed as the masked man leaped out from behind the bushes.
"Wooga Booga!" He yelled.
Hillary promptly passed out cold, her head falling to rest in the bush the man had just left.
"Ha! I tricked you!" The man's voice became clearer as the mask fell away from his face. "You weren't ever going to make it to the house" Sneered the revealed Donald, "Never ever going to make it."
Answers:
We strive for answers, both to questions we hold in our minds and to questions hidden in our hearts. And looking at the state of the union today, it is apparent that some of us have different answers to questions we werenât willing to talk about before. The key to moving forward is to listen. Listen to your allies, listen to the experts, listen to the opposition, and with an open heart and mind, make a choice.
Staring: Short Story
The New York Times sitting on the newsstand hadn't even been considered by the thousands of people commuting through the train station in Mumbai. Even when people stopped, the one copy of the Times was a novelty, not where a working class individual seeks their news. In the entire history of the newsstand, only one had ever been purchased. That didn't stop Jean Claire from performing his vigil. He would know the second someone even considered purchasing that paper. His eyes hadn't left the headline in hours. "Terror Attack in Bombay, Thousands Injured, More Missing". No, there was too much at stake for Jean to stop staring. Too much to lose.
Me, me and nothing but me, miles and miles of me.
There are several people living in me.Â
Thereâs me as I was: A boy lost in a tumult of change Struggling to find both himself and his place.
Thereâs me as I am: Just as lost, just as scared But with a feeling of self, irreplaceable.Â
Thereâs me as I might be: Proud, confident, and strong Or more lost than ever.Â
And then there is the me yet to be, The one with potential and promise, The one with more to lose.
Each of me comes out when circumstance allows. The me I was is brought out when nostalgia and the past come together. I suddenly lose sight of who I am now in favor of who I was. Or when the future seems bright or covered by clouds and decisions must be made, Me as I might be comes to play. The me yet to be hides behind tomorrow, leaving me with nothing but the me of now.
Discussion: The cost of Magic
Iâm not really sure what to call this. Iâve always had the hopeful dream to write a book. Iâm not even sure that having it published matters to me. I just want the experience of creating a world that otherwise would never have existed.Â
I should also mention that I would most likely write a fantasy novel, as that is my favorite genre.Â
So Iâve often thought of writing a book, and Iâve often considered the unwritten book to be a fantasy novel. But to me, the true test of a good fantasy novel is the magic.Â
How does the magic work? Is it an unknown force that simply saves the characters over and over again until either the book ends, leaving the reader confused or frustrated? Or is it well detailed but essentially overlooked? And most importantly, what does the magic cost the character?
I think a good way to approach the problem is to look at a couple of examples. The magic system in Harry Potter is convoluted and specifically unscientific. âThe wand chooses the wizard, Harry.â But why? Why do the wands have any semblance of sentience? And what determines if a wizard will be more or less powerful? And what is the limit to magic? If you can levitate a feather, what does it take to levitate a mountain?Â
The system is unexplained and largely unimportant. Magic is there to allow things to happen that otherwise wouldnât or couldnât. There isnât a point in the Harry Potter series where being more powerful would have solved any of the problems. In this instance, the cost of magic is largely unknown to the reader, but we give it a pass because without a set cost, the characters are always just able to survive.Â
More detailed forms of magic can be found all over the place. In Eragon, by Christopher Paolini, magic costs the equivalent amount of energy to do the task. If you wanted to lift a rock with magic, you would need to be able to lift the rock without magic as well. There is also the stipulation that magic will either succeed, because the caster had enough energy, or will result in the death of the caster.Â
One of the most detailed systems, or at least intricate, comes from Lev Grossmanâs, The Magicians, and sequels. In these books, the magic had to be tailored to exact specifications of location and time. In the first one, while the characters are learning magic, they spend six months of essentially solitary confinement pouring over all the variations so that it becomes second nature to them. The cost of magic is relatively low, except for the crazy high barrier of entry.Â
A final example comes from Brandon Sanderson. In most of his novel series, Mistborn, Stormlight archive, magic is essentially the art of transferring energy from one thing to another. I donât know if he would agree with me, but a Mistborn turns swallowed metals into an effect by âburningâ it away in their stomach. A surgebinder turns stormlight into a different effect, for the cost of stormlight. Even in other books, Warbreaker for instance, Breath is the resource and the cost of doing magic.Â
So that leads all the way to what is a fair cost of magic? Or even further, what can be accomplished by performing magic? There are always combative uses for non-combative magic, and the opposite as well. So if you want magic to allow lifting objects, you have to also allow for magic to allow throwing things seemingly to heavy to lift at enemies.Â
These are all things that need to be considered when trying to create a system of magic. I think that if you were to create a universe to set a novel in, a fundamental truth must be found in magic. Because magic works best when the rules are explained and have severe consequences. It is a poor system when it becomes a consistent Deus Ex Machina. For example, Dragon Ball Z. How powerful are the Z fighters? Just barely powerful enough to beat the next enemy.Â
Iâm not totally sure where I was going with this. But it did feel nice to finally write something. Till next time.Â
Short Story: How can they smile?
âThis place is full of idiots!â Chris shouted.
âQuiet down Chirs,â Don whispered from the other side of the table. âWe donât want to let everyone know that we know.â
âBullshit! Just look around! Everyone is happy. How can they be happy with whatâs happening?â
â Because they donât understand. Not really. To them, the world has suddenly become more friendly to their cause than it was before. They finally feel justified.â
âBut Don, they donât know. How can they smile and laugh and enjoy the suffering that is sure to come?â
âIgnorance is bliss, Chris. How can they fear what they refuse to see?â
Short Story: Jim the Banker
Jim peered over the rims of his tortoise-shell glasses at the woman standing at his tellerâs station. âMaâam, I cannot simply allow you to withdraw several million dollars in cash right now, itâs just -â
âI need that money now!â the woman interjected.
Jim hated days like this. Tedious, filled with people who refused to listen to basic logic.
âMaâam, weâre a small, regional branch of a larger national bank. Even if our policy didnât require several days notice of a cash withdrawal of the size you are requesting, we simply donât have that kind of cash on hand at this branch of the bank. I would be happy to-â
âNo!â The woman screamed. âI need it now!â
This was going to be a very long day.
For those mending a broken heart:
âTime heals all woundsâÂ
Except it doesnât feel that way. Living day after day, Waking with the pain of a hole in your chest, Struggling to see these moments as the best. Bonnie Tyler says, (trying to sound smart) âTime mends a broken heartâ What if itâs not true? What if youâre supposed to be blue? What I have to say isnât helpful now, Because things whole donât hurt, But youâre not complete, What that hole beneath your shirt.
Time is the answer, Just not when itâs needed, Until one day you wake, Heart unimpeded.
For those seeking a friend:
I like saying that camping is my favorite, and when pressed to build a tent, I can make it. I like saying that Iâm a real involved musician, and when asked to perform, Iâll audition. But when it comes down to me and you, And the activities you do, Iâm just interested in saying cool... And relaxing on the couch.Â
For those struggling to find their way:
Take heart, for what I say rings true Your success in life is entirely up to you. Despite rain and storms and wind and hail, It is your actions that determine if you will fail.
So fight and claw and scratch and bite, Do not go easily away from the light. Struggle and kick, find your own way, Because this is your path at the end of the day.
No matter what happens, no matter who dies, Always remember the sun will still rise. Stand tall, be brave, stay virtuous and kind, It's ok to be scared out of your mind.