A Home for Lost Thoughts

I'll not be posting regularly. Just story starters, ideas, and thoughts I'd like to get out of my busy brain. If you have an idea on how to continue something, go ahead and reblog it and keep the creative juices flowing. Count Dooku voice actor extraordinaire. fiverr.com/tempallus

[tempallas]

There i was, lying in bed. The sweet embrace of slumber was rapidly approaching.

Suddenly, however, as my thoughts began to fade, that forbidden word echoed softly in my mind, as though whispered there by Satan himself.

I jolted upward in fear, and whispered to myself the word that had pulled me from my waking dreams:

"Junderwear?"

(Jean Underwear)

[writing-prompt-s]

Other princesses have Fairy Godmothers. You have a Fairy Godfather. He doesn’t exactly grant wishes in the usual way, but the Fairy Mob always has your back.

[tempallas]

As a child, I was quite the fan of the Fairly Oddparents television show. A kid, like me, with two magical entities granting his wishes. What more could a small-minded goblin like myself really want? I was actually so enthralled that I managed to convince my parents to get me a shiny wand, just like on the show. I carried that thing with me everywhere from dawn until dusk. For a while, I kept trying to think some form of Cosmo and Wanda into existence for myself. Sometimes I thought so hard, I thought my head might explode! Eventually, however, my efforts bore fruit. But not in the way that I would have expected it.

When I was 10 years old, and on vacation with my parents, I had just woken up from a nap in our hotel room. They had left a note stating that they would return from lunch at 3pm, and that they’d bring me back some food, so I should sit tight. Glancing at the clock I noticed it was already 2:30. Now, as a kid, the promise of food is ironclad. My mind was dead set on that. Whatever it was, it was going in my stomach the minute my parents walked through the door. Nothing in my life had been as clear-cut. I was so focused on food, in fact, that I failed to notice the mess of a man that had somehow made it onto our 3rd story balcony. My attention was drawn to him when he began rapping on the sliding door.

“Hey, kid...” He called weakly. He had a New Yorker accent, and his voice sounded gravelly. There seemed to be red freckles all over what my parents told me was a tucks-eeh-doe. Whatever that was. “Lemme in, would ya?” Being the obedient crotch-spawn that I was, I undid the lock and let the man in. He stumbled and almost fell as he made his way to the bathroom. Getting a good look at him, he was a short, stout man with bushy eyebrows, and an odd, almost magical golden glow to him. He flicked on the lights and held himself up by grabbing the edges of the sink.

While he was busy checking himself over, I wanted to help him however I could. While I didn’t know much at the time, I did know that something seemed wrong with the man, minus the obvious fact that I had no idea where he came from. Looking around the room, I scoured for something that might cheer the man up. The one thing that I knew always helped me out in a pinch, whether it be a bout of sadness or anger, was my toy wand. A black handle with a star that glowed gold. Nabbing it off my bed, I went back to the man in the bathroom, prodding him gently on the elbow with the tip of the star.

“Wha-” he suddenly turned, seeming to have already forgotten my presence “Whaddaya want, kid?” He sounded tired, and exasperated, but patient. As though he had experience trying to keep his cool before. I gestured to my wand.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” I said to the man. “But you don’t look happy. My wand always makes me happy when I feel sad, so I thought you could have it?” The man looked taken aback. He held out his hand gently.

“I can... have this?” He asked, his voice much more polite than three seconds ago. I nodded. “Can I... keep it?” I thought for a moment. This wand was my single most valued possession I had, and it had been with me through thick and thin. But this man clearly needed it more than I did. I nodded once more, and put it in his meat brick of a hand.

“Promise me you’ll take good care of it!” I said, worried. The man smiled gently and ruffled my hair.

“I will treat this wand as though it was the wand of a sorcerer king, kid. Don’t you worry one bit. And don’t think that you won’t get anything in return. Don Forleone doesn’t forget his debts.” The man snapped his fingers, and his clothes became whole and the red splotches were gone. “Now, show me your arm, kiddo.” 

I held out my arm, and he rolled up my sleeve, tapping on my forearm just under my wrist, where a symbol resembling the wand I just gave him appeared. “If you ever run into any trouble, kid, just hold your thumb on that symbol for a few seconds, and me and my associates will help you out in any way that we can. And er, if anyone asks, you lost your wand, alright?” I nodded one final time, and the man smiled and patted my shoulder. “You’ve done a very good thing for me today kid, and I won’t forget it.” Snapping his fingers, the man vanished. 

Astonished, I looked around the whole room for him without any luck. Shortly thereafter, my parents returned with Mac & Cheese from whatever restaurant they had gone to, and the whole incident had left my mind. I was unaware at the time, but fairies absolutely love anything that’s shiny or sparkly, and they gain immense magical power from a person’s treasured belongings, should they ever come into possession of one, more so if it is gifted willingly to the fairy. Fast forward a few years, and unbeknownst to me, I had an entire mafia of fairies to help me in my endeavors.

At first, I didn’t really understand how it worked. The first thing I ever actually asked for was help with my math homework while I was home alone in my bedroom. A few seconds later, and there’s a knock at my bedroom door. I open it to find two men, one dressed sharply in a three piece suit with the same odd glow as the man I met on vacation, and the second just seemed like a normal man, minus the fact that he had a black eye and a bloodied nose. “You know da deal, Anton. You help out our little friend here wit ‘is math homework, and ya debt with us is cleared. Capisce?”

“Y-yes, of course Tony. I promise you, he’ll have straight A’s - no, A+s!” Anton blubbered. And so, for the next hour-ish I had this man with a very bent if not broken nose explaining my math homework to me in great detail, but also in such simple words that I might easily understand it. Lo and behold, when the day for the test came, I scored a perfect 100 on my test, with the 5 point extra credit question correct as well. He really wasn’t kidding when he said he’d get me an A+. Tony came back to check up with me, and congratulated me on the great score. He informed me that Anton was actually an accountant that had double-crossed Forleone and company, and they couldn’t figure out how to deal with him. It was then that I started to get a feeling for what I really had gotten myself into.

True to form, as Forleone had promised, over the years of my education I essentially had butlers with a criminal record at my beck and call. I of course never misused this power out of boredom. (Probably because I was slightly afraid that they might do to me what they did to Anton.) I was being bullied? Next thing I know the kid gets taken out of school and transferred to a different state by Child Protective Service. Is there a test that I forgot to study for? Miraculously, the teacher lost my copy, and decided that I deserved an A for his slip-up. Small things like that were taken care of all the way through my senior year of high school.

Finally, this year, I received a letter from Forleone and his “associates” in a fancy envelope with a wax seal on my bed when I got home. It read;

Dear Tim,

It has been such a pleasure to watch you grow these past nine years. Ever since you first gave me your wand when I landed on your hotel room balcony what feels like just yesterday, my business has been booming. I’m sure you’re already aware of what we all are - fairies. Giving me such a personal item infused with all your childhood hopes, dreams, and joys has brought us no end of magical power in our many dealings. We went from a small five-man organization to having our influence spread across the nine realms. Can you imagine? Ah, I’m rambling.

Anyways, I wanted once again to sincerely thank you for what you thought simply to be a small good deed all those years ago. You essentially gave us a source of limitless power! Writing that now... that kind of feels a little... ominous. Let’s just say that you did us a favor bigger than anyone else could have provided. Yeah, that works. 

I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to meet you in person at all since we first met, as I have been a very busy fairy as of late. However, I think that you’ll find that the gift we’re about to give you is far more accommodating than a pat on the back. For all that you have done for us, we’ve decided - we’ll be taking care of your entire college tuition for you. Whatever you aspire to be in life you ought to become - who are we to stop that? No matter what path in life you take, or what career choices you make for better or for worse, know that we here will always have a place open for you should you need it. We’re criminals, it’s not like you could get much worse that us. And don’t worry - we pay pretty well for a bunch of organized thugs with morals! Hah! 

So please, take this gift with our thanks, and we hope that in the years to come, you’ll maybe still rely on us for help every now and again, eh? We really can’t thank you enough.

With much love and respect on behalf of all of us,

- Don Forleone

[tempallas]

Dreams can be strange.

A few days ago, I dreamt myself to be in an empty space. There was nobody there aside from me, and a Hawaiian woman. Her hair was dark and was straight, and it went down to her shoulders. She had a warm smile, and I could see for miles upon miles in her eyes. It was like seeing the entire cosmos and more within her eyes.

She then proceeded to grasp my wrist gently and take me through every dream I've ever had. From my prophetic dreams, to the one where I was attacked by a massive centipede, and to even the dream where I'd been dragged through every room I've ever been in throughout my whole life. (Which actually gave my vertigo when I first dreamt it.)

Eventually, we came to a stop at a beach where the golden sun was setting in the distance, the sand was tan and soft under my feet, and tall grass swayed at the edge of the beach due to a gentle breeze. This woman, whoever she was, grabbed both my hands, smiled at me and said, "You're safe here, you know."

Confused, I asked her where exactly "here" was.

She patted my cheek and replied, "Your dreams."

I then woke up.

[writing-prompt-s]

The Grim Reaper has lead every single soul of every single life into the afterlife. They have seen every death imaginable countless times over. Which is why you’re surprised when you see the Reaper staring at you with a baffled expression, asking you how the fuck you died the way you did.

[tempallas]

"As it turns out, lawnmowers are very fickle things. They're hard to work with, require a fair bit of upkeep, and are outright deadly if used improperly. Unfortunately, I got to experience just how deadly a wrongly used grass-eviscerator was firsthand during a bout of drunken hubris.

"After slamming a few shots of mix-n-match alcohol escapades from my corner cabinet of unfinished drinks, I decided that quarantine was far too boring and that I ought to get out some more. Perhaps I'd work on my tan, get some fresh air, and maybe even do a little yardwork here or there. Alcohol was always a good motivator for me.

"Stepping outside, I immediately regretted my decision. Forgetting my shoes, sunscreen, and sunglasses, I was able to experience the true excruciating wrath of a quarantined mother nature. She was stuck at home too, and wasn't having any of it, taking it out on us humans. 80% humidity like it was going out of style, a scorching patio causing my nude feet to scream bloody murder in sheer high-ground-induced agony, and sunlight so ungodly bright you though god punted that orb of burning gasses ten times closer to the earth for "funsies."

"Not discouraged by this obvious foreshadowing by life itself, my inebriated flesh pilot of a brain scooted my patoot right on over to my shed, where all my gardenscaping tools were stored. Yanking open the door I grabbed the lawnmower and dragged it right on out of the shed to the center of my poorly maintained lawn.

"Did I mention I live on a cliff whose dropoff leads to the rocky shores of a sea below? Because I live of a cliff whose dropoff leads to the rocks shores of a sea below. I guess that's kind of important.

"Now intoxicated me is inspecting the lawn mower, tipping it this way and that, obviously paying more attention to the actions taken rather than the mower itself. Seeing the blades of the lawnmower, for whatever reason, little old wheat-for-brains me reasons that these mowing blades are blades as good as any for an impromptu helicopter ride to my neighbors living on the beach below.

"So like a good moron, I start up the mower. It of course takes a good two or three tries to start up because, you know, it's just like that sometimes. Finally starting the darn thing, I hoist it up above my head and scream "FOR THE REPUBLIC!" (As if my allegiance to a ficticious governing space republic matters to the few goats that live in the nearby grassy cliffs.) One full running sprint towards the cliff's edge later, and next thing you know I'm plummeting rather rapidly towards the rocky beach below with no means of saving myself!

"Reasoning that if I went skydiving I'd obviously have a parachute, I let go of the lawn mower and reached behind my back. One thing leads to another, and the last thing I remember is seeing a spinning lawn mower handle come swinging around towards my head."

The grim reaper just stands silently on the beach looking between me, and whatever could be considered remnants of my body on the shore, surrounded by a jumble of lawn mower parts and carnivorous birds. Taking in a deep breath, the grim reaper looks me directly in the eyes and says; "That was the most over the top, dopest, most spectacularly stupidly original death that I have ever bore witness to despite my many eons of existence. You, sir, have my utmost respect."

There is a pause, and both of us stand there on the beach, I reminiscing about my life and death remiscing about some of the more unique deaths he's seen. I then turned to death.

"So, wanna go grab a drink?"

"Oh, you know it."

[tempallas]

King Midas

But his name is King Moldus, and any food he touches instantly becomes moldy.

[writing-prompt-s]

You have the ability to see the number of years a person has left in their life.

One day you’re on a trip to Vatican City. When visiting one of the old catacombs, you see through a tomb wall the symbol ∞

[tempallas]

Infinity?! I exclaim to myself. I whipped out the map that the tour guide handed to each member of our class in case we got separated or lost. Checking the map and my surroundings, I surmised that if I just backtracked a tiny bit, I would be able to find this person with the infinity symbol. Slowing my walking pace, I gradually made it to the back of the line. When the last person of our group passed us, I took off as quickly as possible, being careful to not make too much noise with the sound of my shoes pattering against the old flooring.

Rounding a corner, I came to a crossroads. After cross-checking my map, I took a left and found myself face-to-face with a dead end, the infinity symbol just on the other side of the wall. Confused, I checked the map again. It said there was supposed to be a corridor right here. I sighed, opting to lean against this dead-end wall while I reconsidered my options.

However, upon coming in contact with the dead end wall, I fell through it onto the floor on the other side. “What the frick?” I mumbled to myself as I stood up and dusted myself off. The room wasn’t lit, aside from a single torch on the wall to my right. The infinity symbol was in the dark, furthest corner of the room. Squinting, I still couldn’t make out who or what was there.

I was a little afraid of going on, as the dark was no friend of mine, and knowing that this catacomb could be filled with deadly animals and insects, I opted to turning back. Only, when I got to the wall that had allowed me to fall through earlier, it was now completely solid. “Oh, man... I really don’t wanna be here...” I said out loud. Turning back around, I realized that moving forward was my only option.

I grabbed the torch and, with a bit of effort, yanked it out of its holder on the wall. The infinity symbol hadn’t moved this whole time. Perhaps its owner was asleep? Hopefully? I crept forward, the dust underneath my feet making a loud “SHH!” sound with each step I took. It didn’t help that I was scared beyond all belief. 

As I reached what seemed to be the center of the room, judging by the decorative octagon embedded in the floor, lights all around the room lit up, one by one. To say I wet my pants would be an understatement. I was in full-on panic mode. It was like Niagara Falls down there. From the corner of the room, where the infinity symbol was, came a hooded figure. “Welcome.” It said, in an all-too familiar voice. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Confused, I was about to ask if I knew this figure, when they suddenly pulled back their hood. “K-KEANU REEVES?” I yelled, shocked at both the ideas that Keanu Reaves was here, and was immortal. He smiled.

“I’ve been expecting you. I represent the society of immortals. We’ve been on earth for quite some time now, and I’ve personally dealt with cases like yourself on multiple occasions throughout the centuries. An individual who, from birth is capable of seeing the lifespan of others of their species. Exceedingly rare, and yet nobody knows about this because well, believing it is just silly. Anybody who talks about it in their adulthood is promptly shipped off to an insane asylum, so nobody blabs their mouth about it.” He paused, sizing me up. “None quite like yourself, though. You’re the first one to ever approach an immortal. Most of the others just ran away. Perhaps there’s a chance that you’re just naïve?”

I was too shocked to say anything.

“No matter. In any case, I’m here to deal with you. Whether people believe you or not, online or in real life, we can’t have you talking about having met an immortal. As such, I will be killing you now. No hard feelings, alright?” He smiled a condescending smile. As I took a step back, there was a deafening BANG and a sharp stabbing sensation in my chest. Looking down, there was a large, red wound right where my heart would be. As I toppled to the ground, the last thing I saw was Keanu Reeves hauling over a gas container.

[writing-prompt-s]

For your whole life, you’ve had the gift of finding and befriending cryptids from popular folklore in normal places, whether it’s feeding Nessie during summer camp or playing hide and seek with Bigfoot while on your monthly hike.

[tempallas]

Thinking back on it all, I had thought it pretty normal for kids my age to be casually meeting with fairies for tea after school in the local forest, or rummaging around dumpsters with werewolves to help them find some food to eat, so they wouldn’t prey on humans. I guess ignorance really is bliss.

Whenever I talked to my parents about things like that, they would always smiled at me and said things like ‘Oh, that’s nice dear.” or “Let your friends know I said hi next time, alright?” So suffice to say I thought that everyone was on the same page as me. However, lately things have been different.

At my new job, when talking with my coworkers about what we did in our free time, apparently “building small makeshift houses for well mannered but ill-tempered ghouls just outside of town” wasn’t the right thing to say. The first few times that I had said things like that, my coworkers just laughed it off. But what was so funny? After explaining to them that, yes, I was in fact doing those things, something about them changed.

Whenever I spoke to them, they seemed more reserved. They didn’t hold conversations with me for long, and usually said things among the lines of, “S-sorry, but I’ve got to get back to work!” or “Let’s catch up at a, uh, later time. Alright?” It was almost always followed by nervous laughter. First they wanted to get to know their new coworker, and then they suddenly began avoiding me! I soon forgot about it, as it had become the norm, but things didn’t stay like that for long.

My boss called me into his office one day and sat me down, asking me how my day was going. Thinking I was in trouble, I began apologizing in case I had done anything wrong. The boss smiled at me and sighed before he spoke up. “No, I just want to make sure things are... okay at home. Your folks don’t push you too hard, do they?” It felt like he was looking down on me. Something was off.

“No sir, I’m afraid that they actually passed a few years ago.” I lied. Why did I do that? He’s my boss. I questioned myself. A small voice in my head rang out.

“He doesn’t trust you.”

The boss shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Oh, well I’m sorry to hear that lad. If you ever need someone to talk to, I know this wonderful lady. Her costs are covered by the company of course, and you don’t have to go if you don’t want to..” The boss looked down at his desk, not being able to make eye contact with me. I, being the fool that I was at the time, responded naively. The voice was right. I decided to listen to that voice.

“Well, that’s nice and all sir, but I promised the local wendigo that I’d play some card games with her this evening.” I chuckled.

“A-ah, right. Is that so?” The boss nervously chuckled. “Well, you can go for now. I’ll talk to you soon.” Strange. I thought. The boss is being distant too...

Over the course of the following week, I began receiving increased visits from old friends, relatives, and mental health workers. They were distant. I didn’t feel much connection to them, like they were just puppets, or actors. They always seemed scared of... something. The voice was my voice of reason through it all. The visitors seemed reserved, and didn’t hold conversation well when they spoke to me. They almost always started off the same. 

“How are things with your, um... friends?” 

“Well, the demons finally have a place of their own, and the werewolves are doing good!” I’d reply, enthusiastically. What sense was there in lying?

“Is that... right?” They would always put on a fake smile.

And that would be the end of it. Whenever I made sudden movements, they flinched. When I raised my voice, they had a look in their eyes like a frightened animal. They didn’t like me, and it showed. It was at around that point in time that my mythical friends started acting strange whenever they talked to me. 

“Come, stay with us.”

“Spend more time with us.”

“Live with us.”

“The humans are bad, they want to imprison you!”

“They want to cut you open!”

“Please, don’t leave us!”

“Hurry! Please! You can’t live at home much longer! They’re going to take you away!”

“Why aren’t you listening? COME WITH US!”

Their suggestions turned to pleas. But eventually I understood. My friends were trying to protect me. The voice in the back of my head was like my friends. Just trying to protect me. The humans never expected me to run to the welcoming arms of my friends in the woods.

For the first week that I lived with all my friends, I heard humans running through the forest, shouting my name. In order to protect me, some of my friends had to do really awful things. But that didn’t matter. My friends were they only ones who liked me and understood me. I’m not sure when, but at some point, the occasional screams became... comforting.

After two weeks had passed, I never heard more people calling for me. My friends declared me as the only “good human.” But were humans really good? 

“No.” the voice stated coolly. “They hate your friends. They scorn them, fear them, and demonize them.” The voice was completely right. I was better than them. I was better than humans.

And so, with the help of my band of forest friends, I changed my identity and started an empire. One in which my friends would not be discriminated and prejudiced against in. I was hailed the king of monsters. The voice suggested that trespassers into our glorious kingdom would be sacrificed to help feel my people and get our numbers to grow. I agreed.

As of now, we lie in wait. And as our legion grows, I have been keeping this journal to record the rise of a glorious new country. The voice does all the work for me now. It said that this will all be over soon, and that I could rest. I get to play every day with my friends, just like old times. The voice said something about the town not knowing what would hit them, but I didn’t care. So long as I had my friends, nothing in the world mattered. Soon, the world will know just how great my friends really can be.

[writing-prompt-s]

You are an author, and it’s your funeral. Literally. Halfway through the eulogy, though, a mob of unsightly creatures arrive. Every character you’ve ever written has come to mourn you.

[tempallas]

It was an immense service in remembrance of you. According to your will, your funeral was to be private. But, even still, the amount of people that showed up was staggering. Throughout all the years of your life, you had built an immense reputation for yourself, and even had an extremely profitable business that stood at the forefront of entertainment. Truly, you were loved, if not admired, by millions. 

Watching on from the sidelines before you went on to the next stage in un-life, you smiled happily at seeing such a large gathering of people here mourning the loss of you. You had made so many people happy during your lifetime. A smile grew across your face as you saw few familiar faces troughout the crowd, each one harboring its own sadness. And while sad to see, you were secretly relieved that you wouldn’t be troubling them further with declining health. 

One by one, people made their way to your coffin, each paying their respects in their own way as the pastor continued to speak. Praying, crying softly, or even standing in respectful silence. Looking over the line of people, you suddenly noticed something strange.

Among the winding line of black-clad mourners were people you hadn’t noticed there to begin with. They wore colorful clothing decorated so familiarly. Almost as if they noticed at the same time you did, the crowd began whispering amongst itself.

“No way!”

“Is... is that really...”

“How could this be happening?”

The murmuring grew louder and louder, and eventually realization dawned upon the crowd. “Captain America is here?” You heard someone say.

Another exclamation, further down the line was heard. “No way! Spider Man?” 

Similar sentences sprouted everywhere, until the whole procession came to a halt, people staring in awe at the super heroes who had showed up to your funeral. Almost by instinct, the line of people parted to both sides of the aisle, and cleared a path for all these heroes to take to your open-faced coffin. 

As they progressed, you could swear that you saw them all shoot a glance towards your spectral form while they solemnly made their way down the aisle.

The pastor, shocked, stopped speaking into the microphone, and turned to the immense group of heroes. “I-Is there any reason you’ve all come here today? Would you perhaps like to say a word?”

The heroes looked amongst each other and after some inaudible debate, they nodded, and Captain America stepped forward, taking the mic from the stunned pastor. He cleared his throat, and only spoke eight words.

“Goodbye, and thank you for everything, Mr. Lee.”