I write dark epic fantasy under the name K. J. Curry, but most people just call me Kayla.
I live in Nebraska. Donât believe anyone who tells you I live in North Dakota. THEY ARE LYING!
D&D is a large part of my life and Iâve manage to tie it to my writing by DMing games in the same world my books are set in. Yes, that means readers can read a story from the world one night and play their own character in it the next.
If you want to know more about that, join my discord server at the link below.
Game Review: Punchcard Memories by Mischa D. Krilov
Punchcard Memories by Mischa D. Krilov is a solo journaling ttrpg that is played using a normal deck of playing cards. This game is fun, but it can also be used for personal development or character development.
A little story starter that's been bouncing around in my head for a while...
Word count: 450
Have you ever wondered how long an ancient ritual sacrifice actually takes?
Neither did Iâuntil I became one.
That cold stone slab provided absolutely no comfort. At times, I felt like it was breathingâpulling the ropes tighter with each inhale.
Eventually, when my extremities became numb, I realized Iâd never considered the wait time those before me had to endure. According to my psycho boss, the same guy who sliced my palm so he could smear my blood onto the faces of the two warrior statues on either side of the altar, we simply needed to wait until the moon slipped behind the canyon wall.
While he and two of my insane coworkers tied me down, he explained that the statues would come to life and âconsume my essenceâ before becoming his powerful allies. I fought like hell the whole time, but three men against one petite woman meant I had no chance at getting awayâbut at least I tried.
When they sat back and discussed things in whispers, I fought the urge to sleep. The struggle used up all my energy, but if the statues actually came to life, I sure as hell wasnât going to miss the transformationâand the chance to plead with the ancient warriors to let me live.
The moon finally neared the end of its journey.
My fear morphed into anger. And the anger itself made no attempt to be logical.
Anyone else would be fuming at the fact that theyâd been lured to the canyon under false pretenses, been sliced across the palmâŚwhy was it always the palm? Thatâs just a strange place to cut someone.
Anyway, lured under false pretenses, sliced up, tied downâand all I could think about was how pissed off Iâd be if it was all for nothingâŚif it was some sort of elaborate hazing for new museum workersâŚif nothing happened and my boss had to figure out what to do with me then.
Would he let me go and laugh it off somehow? Would he leave me to die of starvation and dehydration? Would he try to persuade me not to press charges?
Or maybe heâd just kill me himself and walk away. He certainly didnât hesitate to slide the razor-sharp edge of his pocket knife across my skin.
I also kept wondering what my psycho boss would do if the bloodthirsty warriors turned on him. After all, if they were the kind of men that demanded a woman to consume upon their awakening, why wouldnât they also be the kind of men to simply gut my boss the first time he annoyed them?
I've seen tumblr from afar for quite a while and always thought it was cool, but didn't want to dive into yet another social media site. However, after quietly sneaking in and taking a look around, I think the people here are my kind of people. Nerds like me. Awesome, wonderful, and passionate. Looking forward to getting to know you.
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