The book of one who remembers what never happened

Fantasy, horror, and science fiction and writing blog. Contains horror, body horror, and unreality.

[deepwaterfiction]

Deep Water Prompt #3496

There’s a portal to hell in the tea house cellar, used by winged imps to trade undousable fire for calming blends. I gather the black feathers they drop, to grind into the most illicit brew of all.

[wordsyettocome]

The tea I brew in secret offers great protection: it stops you from burning up in holy light, if heaven should decide to smite you.

The imps know the power of their feathers, and take care to gather any they drop, so I have to be quick and discrete.

I do not often meet those who are fleeing the wrath of angels, but if someone who needs the tea stumbles into my shop, I will give them the tea free of charge. I tell myself these deeds will be worth the torment of hell.

[wordsyettocome]

Real Time

The true passage of time has been lost. Nobody can say for how long. The people are confused and distressed, unable to put their lives in order.

The hunt for real time is a desperate one, searching for the oldest clocks and timepieces still standing, meeting with aging horologists who have long since abandoned their craft.

Nothing can stop the search, and it must ever be forsaken. It is a crucial quest to save the world.

[writing-prompt-s]

Making the body immortal does not mean the mind becomes immortal as well. Today, the mindless bodies of the wealthy from centuries ago haunt civilization.

[wordsyettocome]

The penthouses and mansions of the rich are uninhabited, but they are not empty. Bodies of billionaires still amble within, youthful and strong, but devoid of souls.

They stumble around without purpose, while their children quibble over whether or not they can receive their inheritance.

[youngestdaughtersyndrome-deacti]

my heart is a ripe fruit rotting in my chest

[wordsyettocome]

My heart is young and fresh, grown over many years and now ripe for the picking.

But it is a fruit few people know about. I wander desperately, knowing I have little time, hoping someone will agree to have a taste before it is too late.

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[wordsyettocome]

Long-Distance Cult

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[ghoulchurch]

Lowkey we should create a giant manmade blood device to attract ticks away from humans and its a giant blood container that pumps like a heart and emits phermones that attract ticks and mosquitos and we should call it Mother

[plant-diets2savehumans]

I think you just single-handedly invented Dark Solarpunk

[wordsyettocome]

Like everything else, the bodies of the dead are recycled to further aid society.

Within a vast field of carnivorous plants that ooze poison or stink like carrion is Mother, a towering machine where crimson blood runs through a spiral network of glass tubes.

The sky around Mother is thick with bugs, attracted by the tempting scent. It is a necessary evil to keep the cities pest-free. Within the city, spiders wander freely to hunt for any remaining bugs, protected by law.

[wifi-cloak]

[thisisradioactive]

I’ll have a grieveburger and cries and also two unhappy meals for the kids

[wordsyettocome]

The prospect of eating here fills you with guilt. You hate yourself as you order and pay, as if you have signed your soul over to the devil.

It becomes worse when your order is served, and you feel the first taste of oil and grease. Every bite makes you remember an embarrassment, a failing, or a loss.

None of your food cools, remaining scorching hot on your lips. Your cup of Coke has begun to roil like an angry sea.

The sounds of furniture scraping becomes louder and louder. Other patrons are groaning or sniffling. You will not leave you here feeling full.

[deepwaterfiction]

Deep Water Prompt #3436

I inherit land in a small town up north, where everyone prepares constantly for a Holiday I have never heard of. They say I must let it in, that I won’t regret it, that nothing else will matter after.

[wordsyettocome]

The pride and joy of the town is their enormous orchard. Despite its size, there are seven paths through the orchard, and the inhabitants stick to those paths almost religiously.

They say that on the Day of the Black Hibiscus, the whole town will take the Eighth Path through the orchard together.

On the day of the festival, the townsfolk dress in their best clothing, wear hibiscuses in their hair, link hands, and walk to the edge of the orchard.

I go with them, and miraculously, I can see the Eighth Path before us, gleaming and free of any mud or fallen leaves.

[ghostly-prompts]

Prompt #590

They’re sticking all over; how do we get them off?

[wordsyettocome]

The Post-Its will not peel off my skin. They do not tear, and water will not dissolve them.

My own handwriting stares up at me like multiple tattoos, impossible to ignore or disregard. They were meant to help me remember; now I can't forget.

[wordsyettocome]

These Days Are Evil

Every day rains on you, or buffets you with wind. You cannot take a step without feeling the world trying to push you back.

Garbage blocks your path and roads lead uphill. Your shoes and socks are soaked. You can barely see through your flying hair and blurry vision. Your luck ran out long ago, and you can only endure it.

You may also like 'The Days That Love You'

[mutant-what-not]

[wordsyettocome]

All Gods Must be Kept on a Leash

As a rule, all gods have constraints, laws they cannot break or offerings they cannot refuse.

In many places, believers are asked to control their gods, to keep them from overreaching or wreaking havoc. So they trap the gods within their own codes of honor, and use them for selfish ends.

The gods cannot fight, cannot run. Some of them even become accustomed to these cages, and forget that they once had thrones.

[timelessdreamsprompts]

Prompt #494

The black sea stretches out before me forever. I only notice it’s not filled with water when I put my hand in the waves and it comes back wrong.

[wordsyettocome]

The veins in my hand are no longer blue, but now have a greenish hue that appears to be spreading across my skin. My nails are blackening, and anything I touch with my hands begins to smoke.

Now I know where they call it the Viper's Sea. The ocean was full of poison, and I have become a vessel.

[civvic]

Fuck. Those fuckers at the store sold me No Purpose Flour again. What the fuck do I do with this

[wordsyettocome]

The flour refuses to be used. It will not be mixed into dough. It has no taste and no texture. It scatters and sticks, and just takes up space. It is flour for flour's sake, a blight upon the world.

[wordsyettocome]

Malefactor

Dear Sir/Madam,

We are happy to inform you that your Designated Malefactor has been appointed.

Your Malefactor has been authorized to send you curses, provide inconveniences and harm, and pull opportunities away from you.

Their contract is set to begin on 1 September, and will operate over a 5-year period. You should be hearing from them within 3-5 business days.

We hope you are dissatisfied with their torments.

All the worst,

Bad Intentions, Inc.

[wordsyettocome]

The Ashen Sickness

The Ashen Sea inflicts a peculiar sickness on those unlucky or brazen enough to visit it.

It comes gradually, an slowly vanishing smile, a dull ache in the chest, then turning into an endless, inexplicable melancholy, leaving the victim mourning for someone they never met.

There is a cloud of misery hanging over the whole sea, as if the millions of souls beneath the waves are crying out for someone to remember them, to feel their pain.

Almost nothing can banish the wretched memories, and those who can no longer bear it walk into the sea, with no will to live anymore.

Those trapped in the Ashen Sea throw raucous parties to keep the misery away, or pass the nights in desperate prayer, as a quiet death sneaks up on them all.

[wordsyettocome]

Frown Clinic

Do your cheeks hurt from laughing? Does the sound of your laugh annoy you? Do you want to exercise more of your facial muscles, but are unsure of how to begin?

If all this makes you upset, click the link below to book an appointment at our Frown Clinic. Learn to turn your smiles upside down, spit venom, and make everybody's day a little worse.

So book an appointment now. Or don't. If you not interested, don't waste our time.

[writing-challenges-and-prompts]

Writing Prompt

Blank eyes. Empty eyes. A doll's eyes. Eyes more dead than death.

[wordsyettocome]

The girl's did not light up when she saw a puppy or a new toy. She did not smile when her friends came to visit.

She was not evil or cruel, but she simply had no heart. She did not hate, but she also could not love.

The girl could feel the hollow in her chest. She knew something was missing, though she could not put it into words.

So one day, solemnly, without explanation, she left her home, and went on a quest to find her heart.

You may also enjoy 'The Lake of Frozen Hearts’