Creative Corner

I'm not too good at prompts, and I had a lot of ideas but: Among us... It can be interpreted in different ways, and can be implied(Remember to put the prompt in a different part of your post if it is implied but not written directly in the story).

Rules: No length requirements, but don't write a novel.

Deadline: Tuesday, January 29th, at rollover.

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@Chrisondra @TidalMoonrise @Mypilot @PixieKnight3264 @SamIamLuvDov @Lightshadow101 @humanityxpeople @coyearth @Avanari @demonslayr62 @Auraelia @Endernil @Arithelia @inthestars @Annalynn @meddlesomedragon @SocialBookWorm @Kattata @Reiyn @Skyeset @lessthan3 @AwkwardAngel @Draxia @Solstices @0Musicheart0 @Aphelium @AloneTogether @CelestialNarwhal @Kapara @Slayborn @pharmakraken @Elroth @After @Adaris @LapisDragon17718 @Dragonartist24 @MysticalScribe @TwoSwordsClash @Redtiger7736 @AnacondaMiracle @Gula @GalazyBunny @Macchi @MxMagpie @/catmeow1 @TundraReign @GreatLordHades @TwilightDreams @stanlley @Eiira @seige @VeronicaSawyer @mischiefsabre @Midoriko @VoyagerII @Emberlight @Chessboard @HarcoreUvula @CrystalPeacock @Zuron
(If I messed up, mispinged, or otherwise, please tell me!)

@catmeow1 I'm still stretching my writing muscles. I hope this isn't too long for you! It is less than 1000 words.

---

“There’s a traitor among us,” Roan said. His voice was soft in my ear, and the words sent a tingle down my spine. A discomfort in my gut. My eyes wandered over to the others in their tents, sleeping peacefully, or we assumed that. It was our turn to keep watch, to make sure we weren’t attacked by anything in the night.

“Are you talking about the ambush a couple nights ago?” I asked, voice low and concerned. My brown eyes widened and I shifted my seat to face him instead of the burning embers of a dying fire.

We had lost half our supplies and one of our group. Not dead, but assumed so, since we couldn’t find her after the ambush.

He nodded. I could barely make out his silhouette in the dark, but I could tell his movements and I reached out to touch him. A hand on his upper arm. He tensed up at the touch, maybe too wary to relax right now.

“Who do you think it is?”

“Garrett. Days before the attack, I thought heard him talking to someone outside the tents, but I couldn’t see anyone. And you know, he likes talking to himself. And after that, I felt watched, like there were eyes looking at me from a distance.”

I glanced at the tents. No movement or sound could be heard from them. This was the middle of the night after all, and the air was still, so it was quiet. Eerily quiet. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“We’ve been on this journey for weeks, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me.” His hand touched mine on his arm, and he pulled my hand away, resting our hands on his leg.

“You should have said something.” My senses were on high alert, my own mind ready to play tricks on me. Ready to make sure I was paying attention to my surroundings and prepared to respond to any noise I thought my mind heard.

“I’m saying it now. I don’t trust Garrett and you know I never have. He’s strange.”

“He likes to disappear for a couple hours every few days.”

“Exactly. Where does he go?”

“He’s never said.” We had never asked. Garrett had an air about him that suggested you don’t ask if you don’t want to know the answer. He was built in such a way that he could kill you with one hit and that was enough to let him do whatever he wanted to do. Which we did, since he wasn’t hurting any of us as far as we knew.

Until recently.

The sound of rustling in a tent caught our attention. “Hey Roan, you awake?” Morgan asked sleepily. It was her turn to keep watch.

“Yeah,” he answered. He let go of my hand and stood. He yawned. I didn’t think he was anywhere close to tired but maybe the idea of sleep was making him sleepy. “Laura’s with me.”

“Right. Well, goodnight Roan. Goodnight, Laura.”

---

Roan smiled at me in the morning, his eyes tired and lifeless. He had gotten no sleep, and I looked about the same. But the sun was out so we had to keep moving. Tents were taken down. The makeshift fire pit was scattered around so it wouldn’t look like anyone had stayed there.

“I have a new theory,” he said in my ear when the four of us were ready to go and had started walking. I carried a heavy bag on my back which housed a tent and a lot of provisions. “Garrett has no motive. Morgan does. She wants you out of the picture.”

“Oh, so you’re just finally noticing that she doesn’t like me.”

“Yeah, honestly, I am. Just, more on red alert now and her tone toward you was cold.”

“But she loved Octavia. Why would she get rid of her?”

“I--”

An arrow whizzed past my ear and Roan pushed me out of harm’s way. It landed in Garrett’s muscular back and he let out a pained shout, a noise I had never heard leave his lips and it was jarring.

I stood, frozen in fear, mouth wide open. I turned around and couldn’t find the owner of the lone arrow, but based on angle, it came from above.

Morgan slipped behind a tree and we followed her.

Another arrow flew down and grazed my hip, cutting open flesh and exposing fresh blood. Morgan stopped suddenly.

She turned around and hissed, long teeth grew out of her mouth. “Yummy! Humans,” she screeched.

Roan and I ran. We ran for our lives. Ran fast. Sprinted. Used every muscle in our legs and our cores to keep moving. Let the adrenaline rush us to somewhere, anywhere, away from this monster that had hidden among us.

The bloodthirsty beast followed us.

We reached a ravine and we slid down quickly but also carefully, avoiding trees as much as possible. My hip ached and my shirt was damp there with blood. I felt gross. Tired. Pained. Unable to find a reason to keep going, but Roan grabbed my hand and pulled me. Forced me to keep myself going or else I would drag us both down to greet death with open arms.

When we were fine, when we were safe, when we knew that Morgan couldn’t get us, Roan stood in front of me, his hands on my arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m the traitor.” And his teeth grew as long as Morgan’s and he bit into my neck.

And I fainted.

Death came quick.

Then I woke up.

It had begun exactly as one might expect.

People disappeared one by one and nobody really noticed. It was difficult to when a few days later they popped right back up. People noticed they had been missing, of course. Parents and friends and family asked where they had been - some more vehemently than others. But those missing people would simply smile sheepishly and say: "I'm sorry. Stuff was getting to me and I needed some time away. But I'm back now and good as new!"

It was a peculiarity no one ever noticed that every missing person said the same exact thing.

This must have continued on for years, no one any the wiser. Never realizing their loved ones had been replaced by these things. They'd done their research well. Knew the intricacies of both memory and character and could replicate them in equal measure.

It was the testing that finally clued people in. Made them start asking questions. There was no physical or emotional anomaly - but something cognitive. People were just too smart all of a sudden. Big wig institutes noticed a positive trend in intelligence scores. A steep one.

Researchers launched quiet studies and eventually published their results. It was a global phenomenon on a remarkably large scale. Another group followed after and quickly refuted their findings, however, accusing them of fabrication and exaggeration of trivial statistics. The initial group of researchers disappeared shortly after and their study faded into obscurity.

By then more people had begun to notice. Here and there a loved one no longer seemed constrained by the passage of time. They did not grow older or wrinkle. Terminal illnesses stopped in their track. It was few enough that the greater masses continued on in unperturbed ignorance.

Those who did notice... often disappeared. The worry was minimal, however, as they returned not even three days later with a smile and an apology.

"I'm sorry. Stuff was getting to me and I needed some time away. But I'm back now and good as new!"

---

@catmeow1

I imagine this took inspiration from... The Body Snatchers and The Host? Go aliens! (No, really. Please go away.)

Prompt: Among us.

I slipped into the crowd, a small smile on my face. The palace loomed in the distance, but the foraged documents should- no, would- get me in. I purposefully walked to the gates, hoping to all hope I wouldn't be stopped by the guards.

Of course, I was stopped by the guards barely seconds later. "Stop! State your business!"

"I'm a pensioner, sir." I force myself to appear scared, shrinking back, glancing at the ground.

He glared at me. "Third door to the left."

I turn, hurrying over, and despite the fact I had to wait an hour, I manage to get a private audience with the king. I throw myself at his feet, crying, "Your Majesty, I fear there is a traitor among us!"

He didn't appear to be surprised at the news."And who, pray tell, would this be?"

I reach for my small,but hidden, dagger, and in one motion, throw it into his neck. "Me, I suppose."

The king's bodyguard lunged at me. Knowing that torture will probably await me, I slip my second dagger between my ribs and into my heart. I smiled at him, and in a delusional way I can only blame on blood loss, said, "I'm dying. Isn't it wonderful?"

---

@Catmeow1
This is a sketch for a scene I came up with awhile ago. Thoughts?

@catmeow1

“There is a traitor among us.”

The words coiled between us, heavy with accusation. We collectively held our breaths, staring down at the floor before us. Our fingers were curled in our laps, and the stones hurt our knees. I wanted to lift my eyes, to look up at the master who spoke. He had one of us up front, no not one of us, but one of them. They were from compound ten; they had a different purpose. What that was, none of us knew. But still, they were just as helpless as we were, and they served the same master. The one he had was young; she could still shake and whimper. She still knew fear.

My eyes remained on the floor, where they belonged. I knew instinctively that all of us stared downward, waiting, listening for someone to stir, to so much as breathe out of sync.

“Where are you? Tell me, and then young one can return home and sleep peacefully the rest of the night.”

As a unit, we lifted our eyes to look to the master. He was tall, the only one who looked like no other on the compound. His black hair curled carelessly about his head. His swarthy face was cut by deep shadows in the white light of the room. He looked sinister, nothing like the caring master we were taught to love, nothing like the lie. His blue eyes searched each of our faces, looking for any sign that one of us was not like the others.

You could stand up. You could be the traitor.

The words passed through my head unbidden. I stayed in sync with the others despite the flutter in my stomach.

We could all stand up. We could be the traitor.

Were these thoughts my own? Were they the thoughts of the whole collective? I did not know, nor did I care.

I rose to my feet.

I was the only one to do so.

The master’s eyes shot to me, his expression darkening as I broke from the safety of the group, as I stepped out of pace with the room.

“Take her.”

Two of the large men from compound one stepped smoothly up to me, each taking one of my arms as they watched me with dead eyes. I gave each a single glance as I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my brain. It tried to pull me back into the system, tried to pull me back into the even breathing of my compound.

“You will be killed, of course,” the master said evenly. There was a flash, white light glinting on metal, and then red blood pooled onto to the clean floor as the young one from compound ten gave a strangled gasp and collapsed to the floor. “You will all learn that you will not resist me.”

The fog shattered. I sensed a new rhythm settling over the room. Breathing altered just a fraction.

We could be the traitor.

As one, everyone on their knees rose to their feet. An army of my face of my body. Any army of others that were me but not me. The master’s face paled as the two men from compound one fell into the new sync as smoothly as fish change currents. They turned and joined us. The girl on the floor stilled in her blood, her glassy eyes staring at us. I could sense compound ten joining us.

“You are the traitor,” we said as one. “And you will be punished.”

As one, we fell upon our master with no thought given to the future.

@Gula I like the concept, taking a different approach to how most people would look at a prompt like among us. I get where you were going and where you were coming from, but at some points it just got confusing. I still like it though, so if there were a third place spot you would’ve gotten it. @hume The idea of a traitor in a group that seemed to be on a specific mission is a common choice, but you did extremely well with it, and I enjoyed it. My one problem with it is that the twist at the end (Not Roan, the seemingly vampire one) didn’t quite make sense. There was nothing in the earlier text that I could find that indicated that that would even be a possibility. It could have been handled better. Overall, good read! @/Annalynn Loved it from start to finish, and I’ve bookmarked your post for future late-night reading! Edit: There is a typo (specified in the quote) that I just noticed, however. [quote name="Annalynn" date="2019-01-25 09:55:16" ] It was the testing that finally clued people in. Made them start asking questions. There was no physical or emotional anomaly - but something cognitive. People were just[b] to [/b]smart all of a sudden. Big wig institutes noticed a positive trend in intelligence scores. A steep one. [/quote] @Everburn This, didn’t quite make sense. I liked reading it, but it was a bit short and not everything made sense, like I said. But like you said, it’s a sketch for a scene, so it’s not going to be perfect or long. It has the potential to be something great if you work on it a bit more. @/Chrisondra It seems like it’s dystopian based, and I love those kinds of stories. Even though it seems like an excerpt from a novel with how little context is given, it’s still understandable and still acts as a smooth read. [b]@Annalynn gets first place, and @Chrisondra gets second![/b] ------- Original Post Content: Oh jeez, sorry everyone! I was sick the entire week and couldn't judge the entries! I'll put them up in this post, once i've figured what I want to do out. (I'll ping everyone who participated then.)

[img]https://i.imgur.com/NA4h5Li.jpg[/img] [size=4]Keeping to the semi-eerie tone - hope you guys don't mind! [b]Deadline:[/b] Feb, 7th, rollover [b]Limit:[/b] Under 1,000, pretty please! -------- @/catmeow1 Thanks so much for your kind words, and also for catching that typo! [/size][size=1]@Chrisondra @TidalMoonrise @Mypilot @PixieKnight3264 @SamIamLuvDov @Lightshadow101 @humanityxpeople @coyearth @Avanari @demonslayr62 @Auraelia @Endernil @Arithelia @Annalynn @meddlesomedragon @SocialBookWorm @Kattata @Reiyn @Skyeset @lessthan3 @AwkwardAngel @Draxia @Solstices @0Musicheart0 @Aphelium @AloneTogether @CelestialNarwhal @Kapara @Slayborn @pharmakraken @Elroth @After @Adaris @LapisDragon17718 @Kumie @MysticalScribe @TwoSwordsClash @Redtiger7736 @AnacondaMiracle @Gula @GalazyBunny @Macchi @MxMagpie @catmeow1 @TundraReign @GreatLordHades @TwilightDreams @stanlley @Eiira @seige @VeronicaSawyer @mischiefsabre @Midoriko @VoyagerII @Emberlight @Chessboard @HardcoreUvula @monochromia[/size] ------------------------ [center] [size=4][url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dBM6-s4AYOSpYMqzHtyyTD2IGu27hQDf6MlYMGa76uA/edit][Self Editing Pinglist][/url][/size][/center]

@Annalynn

It was my first day as a sailor; if it hadn’t been for my need of coin, I would have never considered setting foot on that sodden deck. Still, money was a necessity, and if I wanted to settle in my own home one day, I would need a fair amount of it. And so, I decided I would chance the tides of fate and hope to win a small fortune from the temperamental goddess of luck and sailors.

I was nearing the gangplank when a hand, weathered and cracked, grabbed my wrist. I snarled and turned sharply to find an elderly man, back bent from a life of burden and hard work.

“Do not go,” he rasped, his eyes wide with terror. “You are about to board the ninth ship this month. For the sake of all you hold dear, and all who hold you dear, do not go.”

My scowl dissolved into a snicker, and I arched one eyebrow at the poor fellow. The glint in his blue eyes was that of madness, and so I decided, out of pity, to humor him if only for a few minutes.

“The ninth ship of the month, you say? First of all, it is actually only the third, kind sir, and secondly, I do not see why that means I shouldn’t board it.”

The elder vigorously shook his head, thin white hair floating in the sea spray carried in on the coastal wind. “It is the ninth, I tell you. They sail others in secret to mask the pattern. The ninth, the crew always disappears. Do not go.”

“And what takes the crew, old man?” I asked, struggling to keep my humor out of my tone. “I do not fear the unknown. If I did, the last thing I would become is a sailor.”

“You’ve heard tales of the sirens?”

I managed to not roll my eyes. “Sirens? They are but a my…”

The old man hissed sharply, stealing the words from my chest. “You are right,” he conceded, tapping his fingers on my wrist. “They are but a myth. The reality is much worse. It is a sea monster to be sure. Larger than ten ships, I am certain. It consumes a quarter of the men on the ninth ship of every month.”

“Really?” I inquired. “And why just the ninth? What makes it so special?”

“I cannot say for certain,” the elder replied, shifting nervously as his eyes turned towards the sea. “I believe it might have a deal with the king, but I do not understand how the king can make a deal with such a creature. Still, a few men a month for safe passage for all trade is of little consequence to him. Those left behind remember nothing of the beast.”

“Then how do you know of the creature, old man?” I asked gently as I worked to pry his fingers from my wrist.

His grip tightened, and he yanked me down. His blue eyes, deep as the depthless trenches, ensnared me, the terror lurking there binding me to the dock.

“Because I was not one of those who was left behind, boy. I survived it. Do not go.”

My mouth went dry, and I swallowed once as I pulled sharply against his grasp. To my surprise, he released me, though his eyes remain locked with mine.

“Do not go,” he repeated.

But I had to go, I had a future ahead of me if only I could live long enough. If I abandoned my job, my reputation would be ruined for future endeavors. Quickly, I stepped away, told myself that this tale was nothing more than the rambling of an insane mind.

But I noticed as I ascended the gangplank that I was counting the heads of the crew and wondering who would die soon.

The creature, it was unbearable to witness. As I was pulled into the murky depths of the ocean, as my lungs screamed for air, I could not help but think of the old man on the dock and wonder how many people he had warned, and how many had then sailed to their deaths.

@Annalynn

---

The maelstrom battered the Strident Squall, the irony of the name not amusing to her exhausted crew, as the ship continued onward upon the wrathful waters of the Atlantic. Thrown to and fro like a rubber duck, the Squall was in serious straits. The Crew, desperate to save her, did whatever they could to plug the leaks in her hull, tie down cargo, and to make sure the sails don't rip the masts out of the deck. If it weren't for the ship's lightning rods, thanks to the captain's dealings in Boston, the ship would have been crippled by the storm hours ago. Instead of that, however, it would seem that the Strident Squall could be torn apart by the sea itself.

The Captain sits upon his knees on the top deck, an amulet of malachite and hemp thread clasped between his fingers. Prostrated and at the mercy of the storm, the Captain whispered into his hands and to the pendant he gripped with white, gnarled knuckles. Feverishly and tirelessly, the crew and captain worked to save their ship for as long as they could. The Captain dropped to exhaustion right where he had been kneeling, but nobody woke him.

As the Captain regained his awareness, eyes heavy with exhaustion, joints protesting his posture, and clothes stiff with salt, he looked about. The sun bobbed lazily on the eastern horizon awash with dawn's colours. The sky's pique was replaced with pastel now, and the night last's terror began to soften. Crewmen were getting to their duties already; fixing nets, checking ropes, and tying knots, among others. The Captain, aching already, rose to his unsteady feet, holes now worn into the knees of his breeches from the wooden boards of the deck.

The Captain slowly shambled to the nearest railing and looked down into the deep Azure. Within view, the coast, and the jagged shores that the Strident Squall had nearly been impaled upon. Joyousness and claims of luck were sure to follow among the crew, but the Captain knew. Smiling down at the water through his auburn beard, the Captain uttered a small chuckle and spoke, "Thank you, my friend," Bringing his closed hand in front of his face, the Captain uncurled his fingers to reveal the amulet. The stone's engravings embossed upon his palm in red. The captain secured his hand around the object once more and shook it slowly.

"Thank you," The captain choked slightly. The Captain turned back from the sea towards his crew members. They could use help, the Captain reckoned, as he rolled up his damp, salted sleeves, and returned the pendant to around his neck.