Ya don't gotta do nuttin for me

[b]Prologue[/b] Long ago, there once was a bright and beautiful city, with singing birds and blooming flowers, and the prettiest sights one could ever see. It was truly magnificent, and it's existence alone was enough to make many a person happy. But one day, as with all things in life, the signs of corruption and dark forces began to seep in. It started as just a rumor at first, but things seemed to evolve and shape into something that got out of hand dangerously quickly. New people began to replace the old people, the younger generation began to grow more restless, and life there began to reflect that of many other places, in an eternal struggle for wealth. Most people lost their sanity easily, and these were the ones deemed 'fit' to rule over things. Everyone in power was corrupt, and many people without power had found themselves in the same state. Murder became common, and innocent children would often be kidnapped, and a ransom demanded for them, though the children were never given back, or ever seen again. The story begins in the eyes of a young child named Ilia, who as a result of the corruption that had taken over the once peaceful city, lost her parents to the new criminal following the city had developed for itself. [b]The quiet of the lake[/b] Ilia sat in silence, alone, down by the lakefront not far from where she lived alone. Life had never been easy for her, not since her parents passed on, anyway. Life was like eternal suffering for her, but yet she still clung on to hope. She stared at her reflection. It was normal, unlike the horrible monsters she would see when people walked by. She couldn't help but judge everyone because of their status, because that's all she knew how to do anymore. She held a rock tight in her hand, staring at it for a moment. She pictured the peaceful city that once was, or at least what she knew of it from the stories people once told her. Picturing this, she let her hand go from the rock, skimming it across the water before watching it plummet right to the bottom, just like the beautiful city that once was. She had so many questions she had to ask herself, but none of them she could answer. Only the poor old spirits knew the answers now. Perhaps that was how it was meant to be. Time passed by as she stared at her reflection in the lake, before the darkness began to set in, and staying out anymore would be considered now fatal. There were many horrible people lurking outside on a night. She picked herself off the ground, dusted off her clothing, and picked up a butterfly from the floor, putting it into a jar, as some sort of symbolism. Just like her, it would be trapped in a world it could not escape. Not without help from someone much larger, at least. Her and this butterfly were not much different. As the sun set, she rushed off into the distance, heading towards the old, ramshackle hut she knew as home. It was all she really had anymore, besides the butterflies she had accumulated on her many trips to the one last source of beauty the city had to offer. [b]Memories of home[/b] Sat down on a chair with uneven legs in the pile of rubble she called home, Ilia had gone from staring from her own reflection, to staring at a photo on the wall. It depicted her and her mother, smiling, outside their old house in what looked like a neighbourhood blooming with nature. The memories it brought back were beautiful, but also heart wrenching. She would often be found outside, playing some childish game with her friends. Thinking about her friends, she remembered all the happy memories they had made together, and couldn't help wondering how they were getting on with life wherever they were now. She also remembered the cooking her mum made for her. She could almost smell the fresh stew she would have on a Sunday afternoon, and could almost taste it too. It was her favourite food, back then. She had forgotten it's taste almost, by now. Then, the bad memory she had. The corruption had been around for some time now, and had worked it's way into her neighbourhood. Her old neighbours and old friends moved away, and were quickly replaced with people mostly spouting a criminal record of some kind, whether it be something petty, or something serious. There would often be arguments and fights taking place in the street, and the inhabitants of the neighbourhood never seemed to get along with each other, often attempting to steal from each other stuff they didn't already own. One day, their house had a knock on its door. It was someone from just across the street. They were infamous for the time they had ended the life of a child in a different city. They had come to take something from them. She didn't know what, and she was sure her mum did not either. Something was worrying her though, and for good reason. She ordered Ilia to go to her room, and without hesitation, she did, locking the door behind her. Sitting in silence for what seemed like a while, listening to the argument between her mother and this man, Ilia was horrified when she heard the screams from her mother as a gunshot rang out in her ear. She never saw her mother again, but the noises she heard told her all she needed to know. Her mother was dead. Snapping out of the memory, Ilia began sobbing to herself, though there would never be anyone there to comfort her. She desperately hoped that, just one day, someone trustworthy would turn up and comfort her tears. She fell asleep on the rickety chair, crying up until her last minutes of consciousness for the day. If she woke up tommorow, it would be a miracle, knowing how much people liked death and murder in this city. She wouldn't consider it that though, as she would not care if she was embraced by death. She would welcome it with open arms. [b]Hope at last?[/b] The city saw a near endless amount of traffic this one day, as many people who had once lived in the city were beginning to return, hearing the news that there was someone out there looking to bring back the beautiful nature the city once had, and it's old inhabitants with it. The noise of many passing cars woke Ilia up early, and she went to investigate the sudden increase in cars on the road nearby her lonely hut. To her relief, and surprise, one car seemed to come to a halt upon seeing her, and the window opened slowly. The car was that of one of her old friends, who had moved away. She couldn't believe her eyes. She was offered a chance to come live with them, accepting it in desperation for a better life again. Getting in the car, she was escorted to a new site in the city she had never seen before. Upon arrival, Ilia was overjoyed to see almost all her old friends there waiting for them. She had not expected this reunion, but it wasn't at all bad. This was what she wanted above all. People she knew and trusted there to comfort her. She was directed to her new place of living. It was so neat and tidy, like the old place she lived in with her mother, before the incident forced her out of the house. With her friends, she was able to make herself happier again, playing in a group all the childish games she used to play with them, and having a little bit of a laugh, all until the sun set. [b]Shortlived[/b] One night, after things seemed happier for Ilia, and after she had managed to bring all her possessions back to her new home, there was a noise in the centre of the street she was now living in. More people were here, and they didn't look friendly at all. They began to harass the inhabitants of the street and threaten them, forcing them to obey orders they would obviously normally deny. Ilia, not wanting to let any situation happen again like this, rushed out to try and help out the people she relied on so much for comfort, rushing at the people with her friends, using their exceptional co-ordination and teamwork skills to retrieve weaponry from the hostile people there, using them to allow themselves the opportunity to fight back. There were no children casualties so far, but quite a lot of fatal blows had been struck to the people opposing them, as if they aren't even trying. [b]Final Breath[/b] The children had managed to eliminate all but one of the people who had been harrassing them and their families, before at last it seemed there was any sign of fighting back. The man had pulled out a knife, rushing towards one of the children with plans to stab them fatally, but to no avail. Before he could do anything, a bullet had been fired into his heart. But, he didn't seem to be done just yet, using his last bits of strength to pull out a gun and fire it in the direction of one of the children. Seeing this, Ilia rushed to protect her friend, jumping in the way of the bullet, letting it strike her through the heart, before both collapsed to the floor. The man died quite quickly after the strike, but Ilia still had to suffer, her eyes slowly closing as the pain of the bullet seeped in and she lost consciousness for the last time as her life faded. [b]End[/b] Staring at the body of their friend Ilia in silence, the people of the street gathered around her, placing items that would remind them of her by her corpse, shedding a tear from the loss of a valuable friend. They stumbled upon her vast collection of butterflies, standing by her body, all taking one jar and opening the lid of them, and letting them free into the world, free to spread their light. Just as they were free, Ilia too, was free. Free to live on in her friends' hearts, forevermore. [spoiler]Well, I tried.[/spoiler]

Bumping this is from a good story

[i][b]The lonely little B0I[/b][/i] [i]Once upon a time, there was a little N1gg3r boy, he loved to eat watermelon and KFC, and drink grape Kool-Aid, then one day... HE GOT SHOT theend[/i]

Today I was insulted on tumblr for being I true feminist!1!!!!!1 I don't understand why the cis male regime wont accept the fact that I'm OTHERKIN!!!!!!11!! UGH ITS SO ANNOYING HOW THE CIS MALES GET EVERYTHING THEY WANT! [i]Little did our precious He/She/It/Xe/Xhe/Xir/Otherkinbullshitter know she would do something very bad.[/i] I DONT WANT TO LIVE ANYMORE!!!!11!! [i]She said as she slammed her greasy palms upon the keyboard, She grabbed her 44. which she kept in case the Cis Males invaded her house and aimed at her head. But she was too weak to do it so she got her brother, Chad to do so.[/i] "Aw haeellll naw I ain't getting thrown back into jail for First Degree Murder!" [i]Of course Chad was really a adopted gorilla named Hara-im not getting bant for a joke, so our little Feminäzi was so angry she finally killed herself with the 44. Therefore ending this very, VERY tragic tale.[/i]

Never forgetti. That's what was said as we got on the train. They had stripped me of my name; I was left only with a number, 207459. As I sat on the train people were going crazy, some even started hurting themselves, but the worst part was that we didn't even have room to sleep.

An elderly man in Louisiana owned a large farm for several years. He had a large pond in the back. It was properly shaped for swimming, so he fixed it up nice with picnic tables, horseshoe courts, and some apple and peach trees. One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the pond, to look it over, as he hadn't been there for a while. Before he went, he grabbed a five-gallon bucket to bring back some fruit. As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee. As he got closer, he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his pond. He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end. One of the women shouted to him, "We're not coming out until you leave!" The old man replied, "I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the pond naked." Holding the bucket up, he said... "I'm here to feed the alligator!"

[i]"I don't want to die,"[/i] that was the last thing I thought before my life changed. I can't say whether it was for better or for worse but it sure as hell changed. 'Twas dark and I could see naught but a small light at the end of a corridor. I felt a hand grab my shoulder from behind and then even that light disappeared. I awoke upon a metal table- bound, afraid, and numb- I could not move. As of yet I have not thought of the rest; if you want it you shall have it. What say you?

What's with everyone making stories that involved guns?

3rd prize is 2 $

Not really a good story but I was entertained making it. My friends and I are doing a pathfinder game and my character is a warlock vigilante, I'll share my backstory because I enjoyed writing it. Rytlov was an aspiring musical artist that first traveled from the far away land of Sorthland to make his fame within the nation of Nostintine. Traveling from town to town, he was frequently found playing in pubs throughout the country. Soon after entering the country the tension between the king and many of the citizens reached is peak as a rebellion was sparked. One night whilst playing in a pub a fight broke out between rebels and soldiers of the King. Caught in the middle of it all, Rytlov was captured along with the rebels and put on death row. While waiting for his inevitable beheading Rytlov met an old wizard named Sir Locke Yorholmes. Sir Locke took to Rytlov and for the days before his execution, taught Rytlov about his magic powers and as a parting gift imbued him with the ability to learn magic and cast it. After sir Locke was executed, Rytlov continued to experiment with his new ability to learn magic in secret. On the day of his execution Rytlov concocted a plan with the little magic he had taught himself so far. While being escorted to the guillotine, Rytlov used his powers to shock his captors un conscience and through a convoluted series of events, managed to escape his death and disappear. No one knows where he is but soon after his disappearance, a masked vigilante going by the name of Professor Wattson gained infamy among the citizens of the the country as a gentleman and hero to those he helps.

Arsh, thanks!

Where are the money prizes

And he looked upon the burning city and screamed his abysmal hate to the winds, but none could hear him amongst the blackened bones and clouds of smoke.

Original stories eh? You're setting me up for stardom, OP. [quote]2.Keep it PG-13.[/quote] Sonuva… Actually. I discontinued a thing from forever ago when I was a bit of a weeboo and tried writing my own story. I'll put it in a spoiler as a reply to this because it's kinda embarrassing as much as it is long. It's also a little… unfocused because back then I just threw in exposition wherever.

"You son of a bitch! I'll kill ya!" [i][b]A deep, truly menacing voice shouted from behind me. It was accompanied by the heavy sound of footsteps running across the forest floor, and the noise of tiny twigs and branches snapping under the weight of my hunter. So, I started to run as well. I slid the wooden longbow back onto my body, the bowstring pressing tightly against my chest as I locked the weapon in place beside a quiver containing seven arrows, each with the black feather of a raven protruding from the back of the ammunition. So when I started sprinting, it felt slightly like a burden on me, but that's always the case when running with weaponry. The air rushed past me as I took great strides away from the man hunting me. I could feel the wind against my bald head, skimming off the surface like rocks on a lake. Although hell, my beard didn't feel a thing, probably because it was such a bushy, light brown monstrosity of one. I entered a clearing only moments later, completely devoid of all trees or signs of life, save for the occasional bird that rushes past me and into the nights sky above. Clouds were starting to fill the skies, casting an eerie shadow over the lands. When I turned to see how far my pursuer was, it struck me then that he was just behind me. He had his sword raised high in the sky, and he swung downwards with all his might, curving the blades path so that if he missed, the weapon wouldn't be stuck in the dirt that we stood on. I stepped once to the side and barely out of harms way, and I pulled my dagger. The weapon was small, maybe a foot long, but it was the best I had in my scenario. When the man spun himself around again to face me, I took multiple steps back. [/b][/i]"I don't want to fight you!" [i][b]I called out to my opponent as I brought the dagger up. He looked at me intently and with the eyes of a killer. It came to me in that one moment: My primal instinct to defend myself. [/b][/i] "You thieving son of a whore, I'll slaughter you!" [i][b]The man cried outwards at me as he stepped forward, his knuckles white from gripping the swords hilt so hard. He went from a slow trudge to a speedy walk in a matter of seconds, and within the moment he swung the broadsword at me. It was a simple slash sideways and to the neck, though he was slow and sloppy on the execution, so it gave me time to duck under the hit. [/b][/i] "I didn't steal the damn watch!" [i][b]I shouted to the attacker as he spun, though he faced me and didn't bother to attack when he came full circle. Instead he stood tall over me, glaring into my soul with the anger befitting of the gods themselves. His brown tunic was stained with dirt and a hint of blood, but bore the insignia of the golden bear on the sleeve. This man was of the royal family. I didn't steal his watch like I typically do, but I robbed this man of everything he had. In my moment of shock the figure stepped back and brought the blade behind him, so the tip could rest gently at his ankles. I knew what was happening but I couldn't move a muscle. The Kings son had tracked me all the way from Antres for what, revenge? Who knows. He swung. The blade found its mark just as I came to. I attempted to jump back but I only had the time to flinch. The sword dug into my ribcage like it was a butchers knife, soaring through the air and finding its mark against the flesh. The weapon travelled a different course, eventually setting itself into my solar plexus with ease. Everything faded away. [/b][/i]

It won't leave me alone. The pain should be over, but it's still all here. It's still in my head; not literally of course. Why can't I escape it? It's over, there I am, slightly tilted, blood from one side and a gun on the other. To think that I'd be left in a transcendent state, frozen in time at the moment of death. Yet my mind carries on. Why would I be tortured like this? My life was pain and I'm cursed to face the same afterlife, dear God, what have I done to deserve this? I went to church every Sunday, went to youth group, I volunteered at least once a month. I'm a good person, yet You made me to hate myself. I hate myself because of You! I hate You! And now I'm frozen here with eternal regret for this awful choice I have to liv- well... Exist with. I can't even see what happens next; what they'll say when they see my body. The tears. The eulogy. What my parents will say. My brother. If Jack will be there. God dammit, why would I do this? What was I thinking? That stupid gun, why would my Dad keep it in his nightstand? This is his fault! He never truly loved me! I was just the mistake that forced him to stay with Mom. He left it there for me, he knew what he was doing! That piece of shit, he's to blame for this! I didn't deserve the life I was given. He didn't deserve me. I didn't deserve to die... But I pulled the trigger. I acted out. I snuck out at night, and I went to parties with alcohol. Why wouldn't he be mad? This is my fault, and now I'm forced to exist forever with this burden I've given myself. The pain, It's intense. I thought the bullet would end it but here I am, unable to fix it. And the pain won't go away, no matter what I think. It's as if my mind is free to think, but can't heal. But I can see my brain! It's right there. I can see it... But I can't fix it. It won't leave me alone.

Yesterday was a nice day at least that is what I thought. Because it was one of the days I felt like a member of society, you probably are a little confused by know so let me explain the situation a little more. My name is Eugen Rodriquez. I'm a 20 year old college student trying my best to pay my bills and have some money at the end of the month. Since I moved out the only person I really care about is my cat Amy because my in the moment my relationship is pretty complicated. It's not that I don't have friends but I just don't know where my life is going right know. But the real problem is that the ghost of my grandpa is living in my mind Dayron Rodriquez and believe me he's not making it easier but that doesn't mean I'm not happy that he's in my mind because I never got to know him he died one month after I was born. But let's move back to topic so he's a pretty interesting guy and has a weird way of showing his love to me he always calls me a " autistic -blam!-" with his Cuban accent but that doesn't bother me because I'm a friend of the internet where I get called that every time. He's also pretty funny he always is a little racist and likes to make fun of everything. He was a rich guy made a good living through cigarettes. I would call him the typical old grandpa but the best old typical grandpa. But that's it for now I probably confused you even more sorry about that.

This is just like school ugggggg😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😞[spoiler]CANCER YO GOT IT THE END!![/spoiler]

bump for later

[spoiler]Eleanor is fed up. She is fed up with life, with her parents, with school, and with many other things. Her fragile mind cannot bear the stress any longer. After another long miserable day, Eleanor decides she is done being fed up with life, and that she is done with life in general. Eleanor has made up her mind: she will take the quick way out. Late one night, as her parents drunkenly argue, Eleanor slips daddy's handgun from its drawer and sneaks into the woods behind the house. She crouches down and slowly, but surely, places the gun against her right temple. A small twinge of sadness creeps into Eleanor's mind. Eleanor lets out one last tear, then pulls the trigger. [i] [/i] [i] [/i] [i] [/i] [i] [/i] Nothingness Infinite nothingness Eleanor feels no difference, she can still feel a tear slowly roll down her cheek. It is soon accompanied by silent sobs as Eleanor realizes she has not freed herself from the pain. After a while, Eleanor gasps as a cold, bony hand grips her shoulder. A thousand deep, raspy voices whisper in unison: "little girl, why have you done this?" Eleanor cannot answer out of shock and fear. "You seek relief, love, care." Eleanor listens but is still incapable of action. "Such a poor soul, perhaps we shall gift it." A light appears in the distance. Eleanor's terror is suddenly overridden by an overwhelming urge to go towards it. She gets up and begins to run, but is suddenly restrained by more hands. The voices take a more sinister tone as they whisper: "Or perhaps those who suffer are doomed to the fate forever." The light turns red, attraction turns to repulsion. Eleanor manages a weak reply. "No, please" she sobs. The voices growl. "We shall grant you a new life, but if we find that you become ungrateful; We will drag you back here by your teeth and you will return to suffering." Suddenly the pain is gone, Eleanor can remember nothing. She forgets her name, her past. Her eyelids flutter closed. [i] [/i] [i] [/i] [i] [/i] [i] [/i] Her eyes open again, as if for the first time. She sees a handsome face hovering over her, she hears noises, exclamations of joy. She raised her eyes and sees that she rests snugly in the arms of a beautiful woman. She feels happy as her eyelids drift close again into restful sleep...[/spoiler]

"[i]When would it all be over...[/i]" the cold barrel of the .44 rest in my hands. Remembering all is done, who is wrong, why'd of done it. All for my own greed. Sure I've got it all now. A Ferrari, women, my mansion. Every man's dream. Only with everything I do, everything I own, I think about it all again. Those people I murdered in cold blood. The mother who's kids were only five. They'll never forget what they saw. The man who I first started this chain sending me spiraling downward. On the pier it was dark and foggy. No one noticed the splash of the man's lifeless body sinking to the bottom of the ocean, Only me. I see them in my sleep. But this would end it all. One pull of the trigger, and boom. It would all be over. The meadows with trees of green, butterflies of every color, a little house, flowers. Where I really belonged. My hand shaking I clenched my eyes closed and put the gun to my head and whispered two words, maybe my last two words, maybe just two more of thousands of words. It all depends what happens after these next few moments. "[i][b]My Meadow[/b][/i]" P.S. Just a little something I whipped out while trying to fall asleep. Would love feedback, thanks!

Story [spoiler]do I win?[/spoiler]