A Note of Death An Unofficially Unlicensed Short Story

Hey, Ry. Is that what we should call you now? Ry? asks G. Yes. And I shall call you G from now on. I find it rather fascinating and though a bit confusing, yet fascinating, says Ry. Why do I get a letter but you get two now? asks G. R sounds boring, Ry sounds more mysterious. I like it more, says Ry. Say, Ry, have you ever thought of diversifying the places you visit? asks G. What do you mean? asks Ry. Have you tried the old continents? asks G. Hmm… Never really thought of it much. Used to have a lot of fun there a hundred years ago or so. Brilliant idea, G. I shall bring you a golden apple or maybe one of those green ones, says Ry as he takes off. Did you really have to do that? You know what may be waiting for him, says De. Oh look at you, two letter brothers holding out for each other, says G as he too takes his leave. You know you can simply not play the game if you do not like it, G, says De.

Some months later…

Tsk, he says as he leaves. With a frown on his face he looks down at the ground and in front of him a booklet seems to appear. The black cover, the text on it seems unreal. Pick it up, a voice commands him. As he leans down he sees the weird text and picks it up. Opening the notebook he sees a bunch of rules written down. He starts to flip through the book as he sees torn pages, names, Japanese writing he does not understand, some ripped pages. Well, what do you think? asks Ry as he stands in front of him. He looks up to see those wicked eyes, those long arms, the weird wings, and a smile to not be forgotten. Is any of this real or did I finally lose it? he asks. Why aren’t you freaked out? Usually people do not find my particular style appealing, says Ry. I don’t have an answer for you that won’t sound depressing, so let’s just say I’ve seen some stuff, he responds. So, what does a failed… Everything… Have in mind with that notebook? I have been watching you for a while clicking your tongue at this and that. You are rather fascinating. Smart enough to know when someone or something is wrong, but not smart enough to know how to use it to gain the power you seek, says Ry. So you are giving me a chance at wish fulfillment with this, is what you are saying, he responds. Clever, knew you’d understand. Yes, that is exactly what I am giving you. Now give me a show, I can see the gears turning inside that pretty little head of yours. It’s all I can ask for. Well, that and apples, says Ry. We’ve got a deal, he says as he rips an empty page from the notebook and stuffs it in his pocket.

I have some questions, he says to Ry. Can’t you simply use it and find out exactly what it does? asks Ry. Do you want a show or a whimper? he retorted. Fine, but you better give me something great in return, says Ry. Does anyone else have this type of notebook right now, right here on this planet? he asks. Not that I know off. Right now it’s only me, says Ry. You know, I heard about this notebook. It was all over the news here too when things went down in Japan. That must have been a fun time for you, he says. Mmm, yes. So it was, says Ry. I have a question about you. What are you? A god of death? You look different from the gods I read about. And what are you powers? Can you see my lifespan? Can you kill me? Or do you just observe? he asks. Yes, you could call me that. And let’s just say I can do lots of interesting things, responds Ry. So, I’ll take all that as a yes. Good, let’s get you some apples and let me buy some stuff to test what writing is, he says. Aren’t you ever going to ask me for my name? asks Ry. Why? I’ll make history, you’ll have your show and besides, you’ll be gone soon either way, he responds. So quite a grand plan you must be having to be done with this so soon, says Ry. Well, if what I think works, then yeah. It’ll be short, but it’ll be a blast, he says smirking.

Here are your apples. Bought a few kilos, hope they’ll keep you satiated for a while, he says as he sits down at his desk. What’s that weird glossy paper for? asks Ry. You see, with this paper you can write on it, put it over another piece of paper and it will nicely copy everything from one to the other, he explains. Oh, now that’s impressive, says Ry. You see, when things were happening over there I always thought he was inefficient. Of course you are going to get caught with pinpoint precision if your scope is that shallow. But then again, he was a teenager. Maybe if he had time to mature a little his scope would’ve broaden. That’s why I promised you a big show with a loud bang, but with a quick sendoff, he explains. Well consider me intrigued, says Ry as he bites an apple in half. He takes a pen, writes down a name and presses then the paper to the notebook. Oh, an actor. That’s very brave of you as a first death to note down, says Ry. Well, I have to see if it works quickly, he responds as he opens Twitter. Interesting strategy. Glad to have picked you, says Ry. That’s high praise. Thank you, he responds as the name of the person pops up and is trending a few minutes later. Bingo! Now onto the next test, he says with pride.

What’s that? asks Ry. A printer. But more specifically an ink printer. So, let’s see if this works, he says as he prints on that thin paper and then applies it to the notebook. This is what you meant to test what writing is, says Ry. Exactly. And if this works, we’re going to be doing this tonight and when the sun will shine, tomorrow morning, you’ll probably be leaving me with a changed world, he responds. As he finishes that sentence that name starts to trend as well. Perfect, he says. So what now? asks Ry. Now I am going to get a VPN, setup a virtual machine, start an excel sheet. And then write the name of every politician, every criminal that is known right now to have caused death or any harm to people and that is pushing and marginalizing large groups of people. But, they are going to be randomized on each type of this page and then put down in this notebook. And when the sun rises, we’ll have thousands of criminals dead. Not that I’ll know what will happen afterwards. Not that I’ll know how the world will react to it all. Not that I know if this will change anything for the better. But sure as hell this will send a message out there and some form of wicked justice will prevail for now, he says. You know, you could do this over and over again, if you wished so, says Ry. No, once is enough. I just might kill the wrong person or dig myself into a hole. I don’t want that. I want to see what effect this will do, if any. If there are other dictators to rise out of this situation, if the people do not take charge of this opportunity, then there is truly no hope for us as a species, he says.

After a long night, the skies slowly start to lighten up. So, are you ready god of death? he asks with a bunch of freshly printed papers ready to press them down in the notebook. As ready as I’ll ever be, says Ry with a devilish smile on his face. Well, after testing how many names on a page will work, I think this will be smooth sailing, he says while laughing after turning on the TV on a news channel to see the chaos unfold in real time with Twitter also opened on his monitor. Slowly but surely the news starts to come out that dictators, government officials, police officers, prime-ministers, oligarchs, corrupt news show presenters and every type of other criminal starts dying. One after another, the news cycle and the internet can’t keep track of the many deaths that are occurring. Whether it’s accidents or suicides, it seems chaos is completely taking over the world. Ry starts laughing. Incredible. You are truly incredible. So much death. So much confusion. Oh to think someone could pull all of this off, says Ry enthusiastically. Well, here you go, he says after scribbling on the piece of paper he ripped out from the notebook. What? asks Ry. I promised you a show. You got a show. Here’s your notebook. I have to burn this papers together with my laptop and printer. Enjoy the chaos, he says. Ry remains baffled at everything that is happening. As he throws the papers into the fire, together with it is the paper from the notebook which states that he should die 15 minutes before his lifespan is to end in sleep.

Hope you liked this longer short story based on a popular story for which I do not have the rights to, which is why I changed names and never really named anyone directly from that series. But Shueisha, if you wanna do a collab on this, I’d love it. Because I can easily expand this story in a manga format, if you can borrow me some talent that can draw. I wanted to write this because I had this idea while thinking what I’d do, if I had that coveted notebook and it seemed like a cool idea that remains very open ended in a way.

Hood: A Dead Man Walking - The Pilot Program 2022

A gunshot is echoing in the warehouse. Silence… Then a scream of a man followed by even more gunshots. Where is he? Don’t let him escape! screams a burly man. You must be mad to get yourself in this warehouse alone with us, says a tall man with a beard and a gun in his hand. The lights go out, a man starts screaming. The two start shooting. They see a shadow. The tall man follows the shadow with his gun shooting at him. Without realizing, the tall man shoots the burly man. As the burly man falls, from behind him jumps the man in the hood onto the tall man, throwing him on the ground and disarming him. Who are you? asks the tall man. They say justice is… Blind… But I’m not justice. I’m vengeance… With bloody fists, a heavy breath and a dozen man downed, the man in the hood said as he walked away from the warehouse with police sirens getting closer and closer. Log 045. The warehouse by the docks was a bust. Only drugs and small arms, nothing related to the location of Death’s Head. The info we got last week was correct, yet it was not what I was looking for. Note to self, find better informants, says the hooded man as he closes his audio log and gets on his bike. Years in the fucking FBI and all I could get was this lousy informant and a warehouse full of drugs when that mad man is killing thousands and gaining power by the minute, the hooded man thinks to himself as he drives home.

Morning, Craig. What happened to your hands? asks John. Well, you know sparring, training and I blew off some steam, says Craig. Looks like you blew out a fuse not just some steam, don’t you ever take a break? asks John as he leans on the desk. This is me taking a break, says Craig jokingly. By the way, have you heard about the news? It seems a lunatic in a hood went in Death’s Head’s warehouse, beat up like fifteen guys, then called the police on the whole operation. James and Chuck are down there right now taking on this case, says John. Man in a hood, huh? says Craig as he touches his bruised knuckles. Craig, I have something for you, says Arthur. This is my cue to leave, says John. Here, says Arthur as he hands me a folder. Craig opens the folder and starts looking through it. What am I supposed to do with all this information? asks Craig. That’s exactly your job now. We must find a way to find the fuckers that planted those bombs in the subway stations. You have there locations, firms, names, addresses and we need to get a lead on this. Any lead, honestly, says Arthur. What the rest of the squad doing? asks Craig. They’re still interviewing people from the scenes. Workers, people in the vicinity, cameras, forums, the usual, says Arthur. Why me? asks Craig. You always had a broader perspective and we might need that, if we’re to find who’s behind this, says Arthur. Understood. Thank you and I’ll get on it, says Craig.

Ten thousand dead and many more injured as the major New York subway stations were targeted with bombs by a terrorist attack. Black smoke from the underground is pouring into the surface as police try to evacuate the zone and first responders prepare to go down. We go down to our live correspondent… Craig… Craig… John pulls on Craig as he thinks back on what happened in early February. What? Sorry, I was thinking, says Craig. Can you believe it? James let those fuckers down at the docks go. It seems they had contracts that stated that they shouldn’t go inside the warehouse unless it was an emergency, so technically they weren’t involved in the drugs that were handled there, says John. That sounds like fucking bullshit to me, says Craig. And guess who I have to go after? The hood, says John. What? asks Craig as he touches his knuckles. Yeah, it seems they deem the hood worse than literal fucking henchmen for a drug and arms dealer, says John. Motherfucker… says Craig as he gets up from his desk and leaves. Where are you going? asks John. I have something to do, says Craig. As Craig gets to the parking lot, he opens the compartment of his bike, takes out the bloody hood, changes into it and leaves. James, you corrupt piece of fucking shit. You wanna throw down? I’ll be there to take you and your whole operation down by force, says Hood.

And if you liked the short story, want to read more of it. Then you can comment, like and share it, that way it can be read by more people and it can become the story of 2023. And want to support the blog and keep the short stories free, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

Kaiju: A World of Giants - The Pilot Program 2022

Would it be better if you weren’t born in the first place? she asks. Yes, absolutely! This is a nightmare. I live in a country whose giant monster is a dog-headed bat that lives in a black sea that is actually blood. The neighboring country has a giant black crow that spews green bile acid and in that other half of the world there’s a giant plasma breathing lizard. And I don’t know if you noticed, mom, but we live mostly underground out of fear of those giant creatures. I’d love to see the sun sometimes, you know? I ask as I take my leave. My watch rings and I answer it. Where are you going? asks Tomiris. Out. I am tired of this, I respond. Cinane, please don’t. You know what happened last time. You need to find some other way to vent your frustrations than running head first into danger, says Tomiris. And what exactly should I do? I did the survival thing, I did self-defense, I even wanted to try the military and they wouldn’t let me join. And I can’t leave this place, since my life has been predetermined ever since they knew my gender. And if I get out of line, I’ll just get punished, which you know it’s bullshit, I keep ranting. Have you tried knitting? she asks while laughing. You know I can’t stay in one place for too long, I tell her. Please Cinane, don’t make us more problems, she says. I’m not making you any problems, I lash back as the call stops abruptly. The earth begins to shake, a screeching roar is heard thundering the earth and skies.

The alarm starts blasting throughout the city. Beware of the giant Please evacuate the surface area and retreat underground! The alarm system blasts and repeats itself as the ground shakes with each step the giant takes. It shouldn’t be so inland, I tell myself as I look at people calmly coming down from the above areas talking and going about their day like nothing is happening. I can’t believe that these assholes got so used to live underground for thousands of years that they treat this so lightly, I tell myself as I start going the opposite direction of the crowd. Where are you going? someone stops to ask me. I forgot something a level up, I respond. It’s dangerous, he says as he turns and leaves like it’s none of his business anymore. What a weirdo, I tell myself as I go up the stairs. Something must be wrong for it to be here, says a man dressed weirdly. Maybe it feels threatened by the neighboring kaiju, says a man dressed in a nice suit. Why would it be? asks the weirdly dressed man. I don’t know, I’m not a scientist, you are. You tell me what is it doing here, says the man in the suit. I don’t know yet. We have yet to interpret its cries. And unlike a certain empire we’re friends with, we have not started yet experimenting trying to have biometric tech on it, says the scientist. And why not? asks the man in the suit. I am not going to say anything, because I do value my job here, says the scientist. Fine, do as you please, but figure this out, says the man in the suit as he leaves.

What’s going on here? I ask myself in a whisper. I start running trying to get past the scientist. Wait! Where are you going? he asks in a panicked tone. Up! I respond as I run past him. No, you’re not, he says as he catches me by the hand. Shouldn’t someone as handsome as you be doing something else then catching ladies in distress trying to escape their hellish lives? I ask in a sarcastic tone. No, I don’t wish to be an accomplice to a suicide, if you don’t mind, he responds. I do mind, I tell him as I try to yank my hand out of his grip. Where do you want to go? he asks. Out. I want to see it. I want to see the proper outside world. I don’t want the life they chose for me, I tell the scientist. And you think dying out there is a better alternative? he asks. Yes, but I won’t be dying. I did train to survive, I do know self-defense and one of my idols is Belane, the woman that roamed the four continents alone. So, I’ll think I’ll be fine, I tell the scientist. His face turns sour after hearing what I had to say. Listen. You do not know what is out there. We have discovered but 5% of what this planet has to offer. There are things out there might out of stuff of nightmares. Why do you think in two hundred thousand years no man left the tunnels and caves we live in? We’ve been sending drones to gather stuff for us, they brought back unimaginable things. I have no idea what’s out there and I work for a living studying the out there. You’ll suffer a faith worse than death, he says. Then that’s why I’m going, I tell him as I take his arm off mine. At least let me come with you, he says. I smile as I let go off his hand. Sure thing, I say with a smile as the ceiling of the cave crumbles near us and the dog headed bat screeches shaking the earth beneath us.

And if you liked the short story, want to read more of it. Then you can comment, like and share it, that way it can be read by more people and it can become the story of 2023. And want to support the blog and keep the short stories free, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

RanKing - The Pilot Program 2022

My parents! My parent’s parents fought for me to be your king! I have fought to be your king! My birthmark shows it, their birthmark showed it. We are born with our destinies on our backs! We are made to fulfill our destinies! And there is no shame whether you’re upper rank, lower rank, a worker, a cook or a dish washer! My great great great grandfather was sweeping the streets, anyone can meet their destiny. I memorized his whole speech, says Edwin. And thus the golden age began, says Dante. Exactly! Rancore, the strongest man to have ever lived had managed to bring peace to a world at war. A world without a strongest contender, says Edwin. My guy, we know. We have heard it so many times coming from your mouth. I wasn’t encouraging you, I was just showing you that we know what your next word is going to be, says Dante. Do you think he had some kind of magic? It was a few hundred years ago when he managed to roam the world to bring it to its knees, says Edwin. I don’t know. Are our birthmarks magic? asks Dante. They’re not magic, says Arthur. Then what is it? asks Dante. It’s genetics. Each person has it’s DNA, that DNA leaves an imprint in the skin. It’s that simple, says Arthur. Then how do you explain the symbols? That’s a language, right? It has to be something special? asks Edwin. It’s you. It’s your noggin. It’s how your DNA reacts to your brain impulses. Read a book, you two, says Arthur as he leaves. Always the smart one, says Dante.

What do you think his ranking is? asks Edwin. I don’t know. Never asked him. He looks average, says Dante. And you don’t? asks Edwin. Listen, I’m in top 5 strongest and I’ll probably get in top 4 soon enough, says Dante. Yeah, top 5 billion, maybe. We’re still teens, there are so many people that could simply crush us like we’re watermelons, says Edwin with a grim look on his face. Ever the courageous man, aren’t you? asks Dante. Take a seat everyone, says the teacher as he enters the classroom. Oh right, history. Great, says Dante as he takes a seat. Today we’re gonna continue on with our lesson on armed conflicts. As you know, weapons aren’t really used, since they’re quite often useless against the higher ranks. So when we are talking armed conflicts, we do mean literal armed conflicts. Massive conflicts between people and their bare hands. And we have detailed stories of many of our ancestors battles along the years before the golden age Rancore brought with his might. So today we are going to talk about a few of those armed conflicts before and after the golden age, says the teacher. Edwin raises his hand. Yes, Edwin? asks the teacher. Why were there conflicts after the golden age? asks Edwin. Because Rancore was told to have had many children. Which only sparked a lot of conflict. Sadly not much is known since he was a very private man, says the teacher.

But that doesn’t make sense. What about his birthmarks? Couldn’t they have looked at that? asks Edwin. No. Rancore was never really seen in a state of undress. He was mostly alone during his travels. And after his conquest he never really bothered with politics, leaving these decisions to the people. So he was less seen once the golden age began. Even so, the most we have are pictures after descriptions people had of him. A big smile, a glorious moustache that couldn’t be rivaled. Kind eyes yet a fierce looking body that would make him feel menacing. But that’s the extent of his description from our history, says the history teacher as the classroom door is kicked down. Everyone stay calm, says a man with a black beard. We’re here for Arthur, the young man of legends, he says as he puts his goons to detain the class. The teacher raises his fists, and so are the rest of the students. Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you guys, says the bearded man. The teacher jumps to punch one of the goons, only to get knocked down and break the his table. The rest of the student body jumps to Arthur’s defense only to get easily pushed and kicked back down. Told you. Now, Arthur, we can do this the easy way… Or the hard way. But either way, you are coming with me to do what your great great grandfather did before you and bring a new golden age.

And if you liked the short story, want to read more of it. Then you can comment, like and share it, that way it can be read by more people and it can become the story of 2023. And want to support the blog and keep the short stories free, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

There is NO ME - The Pilot Program 2022

For those that don’t know how I choose the short stories for each year, I don’t. You do. Every year for the first eight-nine months I post one extra story part of The Pilot Program where you read, share, like and comment on the stories. The most popular becomes the short story series for the next year. The winner of The Pilot Program 2020 was The Horrorscope, the winner for the 2021 was JACK and now you have the chance to choose the short story for next year. Hope you like There is NO ME.

The Ship of Theseus ponders if you replace every wooden board and every single piece of a ship over the years. Is it still the same ship? But what of me? Am I me? I think to myself looking at the ceiling right after waking up from a nightmare. I hear an explosion as I get up from the bed. They are still going at it, I tell myself as I look for my cat. There you are, I say as I watch it stretch. Are you still you this spring now that you shed your old fur? Or are you some other mischievous little guy? I ask him as I pet him. I hear another explosion followed by my windows shaking, as I look at my cat going to its food bowl. You aren’t even scared anymore, brave little guy, I say to him as I reach for his food. I put food in his bowl and turn around to turn on the air filters as the black smoke from the explosions and fires reach the apartment. I hear a knock on the door, I go to look through the viewfinder. I see two burly men dressed in black holding something behind their backs. What the fuck, I whisper as I reach for my airsoft shotgun. Who is it? I ask. We’re with the insurance company, says one of the man. Fuck off or I’ll blow your fucking brains off, I scream at them. Fucking bitch, I hear them mutter as they pull out their baseball bats and leave. It’s the third time this month they came to this apartment complex, I know them by their stench now, I mutter to myself.

Raiders, vigilantes, rioters, protesters, cops, military and then the politicians are fueling the fire that is burning this city down slowly, but surely, I tell myself as I turn on the stove. I can’t remember the last meal I had where the food didn’t have a slight taste of ash or iron, I mutter as I look at the eggs I made without any appetite to eat them. My phone buzzes and as I pick it up to look at the notification another explosion shakes the city. Great, my skin cream arrived, I just need to pick it up. I can finally patch this skin without the need to staple it back together every time my windows explode into pieces, I say as I get up happy to have a motive to get out of the apartment. As I get dressed I remember my mother, so I reach for my phone to call her. Hello? she asks in a raspy voice. How are you, mom? It’s been a bit since we talked. Do you need anything? I have to go out and get my cream for the skin. Thought if you needed something, I could drop it off by you, I tell her as I hear her cough. I think we need a new air filter, it got really bad here with the fires and bombs. And your father can’t move as well until he receives his new muscle tissue next week, mom explained. Okay, I’ll get you some, since I think I’ll have to replace mine soon too, I tell her. But don’t you have work to do today? she asks. I do, but you know with the daily power outage, I can’t really do much until later. So we had our schedules changed, I explained. Oh, okay dear. Be careful and take care, she says. Will do, I try to reassure her.

Little Darkness, you take care too, I tell my cat as I step out of the door. Helmet, on. Keys, money, concealed gun, check. I forgot the bubblegum, so I guess I’ll have some ass kicking to do, I tell myself as I start laughing. Girl, you are crazy, I hear my neighbor lady say as I pass by her door. Morning, misses San, I say as I go down the stairs still laughing at my own joke. The ash would stick to the bottom of my shoe, like snow used to before this whole ordeal started. I miss snow and being able to walk around without a helmed, breathing the fresh air, seeing the sun clearly on the blue sky. Being able to go out whenever you wanted, not just when it was necessary. I tell myself as I reach the ground and look at the bike I haven’t used in a while that seems to be falling apart. So, on foot to the postal office it is, I mutter sad at myself. Weird how all these crazies decided to agree that the postal service, hospitals and grocery stores shouldn’t be touched, but the rest is free reign, I tell myself as I see a man approaching me. What a lucky day we have here, he says as he pulls out a gun. I pull out my gun and start shooting him. Oh baby, how nice it feels on this brand new body. Your rubber bullets ain’t going to do shit against me, he says as he puffs his chest out. Let’s just hope my backup brain is still synced and working, I tell myself as he starts running towards me. But just as he runs towards me, an explosion blows us both away

And if you liked the short story and want to support the blog and keep the short stories free, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

The Next Short Story: 2022

Hello everyone, this year has been interesting. Wild, disappointing, frustrating, weird, but when it comes to the short stories on Nobody The Blog it was a good year. I am very proud of all short stories I’ve written this year, especially those in The Pilot Program 2021. As you know, The Pilot Program is where I write one pilot story every month for eight months. And where you decide which you liked the most. That’s how The Horrorscope came to be this year’s weekly short story. And it’s been fun writing The Horrorscope, down right thrilling, considering the end. While personally this year has been challenging when it comes to finishing the other projects I have lined up. Like that fifth book I kept teasing, which is coming along very very very slowly. But also a few other projects I’ve been planning in the past two years. But, do not worry, they’ll be announced this upcoming year, if all goes well.

But, let’s get back to The Pilot Program 2021. We had quite a few interesting stories this year. Starting with:

Jack - Anthology of a Young Wizard. Which is a re-work of a previous Pilot Program short story, The Fallen Tower. But this time we have a central focus point in our protagonist Jack and his experience in the 13th century London.

Colored - A story about destined love by the color of the eyes. A cool concept that I might re-work in the future.

New Arc - Inspired by anime like Neon Genesis Evangelion, Eureka, Gundam and kaiju movies like Godzilla. New Arc is a story about limits, burnout, depression, anxiety and our responsibility and burdens as a part of society. Speaking of society…

Society is EVIL - A short story about a dystopian future where every household is their own country. Each lives by their own rule. And the complications of such a life.

Souless Society - A short story about a world where people have no souls, and those fortunate enough to have souls are seen as a danger to society.

Hafhorn - The Forger Elf - A different type of fantasy story about an Elf that feels constrained by tradition, the people around him and his need to learn, grow, and leave the place he was born in.

Procaryote: Scum Sold Out For Money - Is a short story about each person’s value, trust and horrible people.

agrypnia: Every Dreams is a Nightmare - Is a re-work of another Pilot Program short story from 2020, just like Jack. About dreams, parallel realities, the supernatural and survival of the fittest mind.

These were the short stories part of The Pilot Program 2021 this year. And I am honestly, very happy with the concepts this year and how most of them turned out. But there are a few that surely would be better with a bit of work. But, there were some favorites this year. So, without further ado, this is the order of the stories by popularity. Meaning views, likes and comments. The winner being announced at the end.

8. Souless Society

7. Procaryote: Scum Sold Out for Money

6. Hafhorn - A Forger Elf

5. Society is EVIL

4. agrypnia - Every Dream is a Nightmare

3. Colored

2. New Arc

And the short story for 2022 after all your views and likes is.

Jack - Anthology of a Young Wizard

I hope you are ready for a wild ride with Jack. Because all the stories that will be told in Jack, will be based on real, documented events from the 10th to the 16th century London, of course with a bit of mix of a few surprises. After Attropolis, this is going to be a new return to historical fiction, but this time with a bit more fantasy. When? 7th of January will be the first chapter of Jack - Anthology of a Young Wizard.

I am glad you took the time to read the stories, to like them, to share them. And hopefully next year, I can give you even better stories to choose from and make it harder to find a favorite. With that, I hope you enjoy the end of The Horrorscope and see you next year with Jack.

If you liked this episode of The Horrorscope then don’t forget to like, share and comment. If you want to keep the short stories free and want more of them, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

agrypnia: Every Dream Is A Nightmare - The Pilot Program 2021

Sleeping is dangerous, you never know what psychopath awaits you on the other side... There are no good dreams, there are only lucky ones. And once your mind can dream, the only one you can rely on, is not your friends, not your family, but only on yourself.

Hello, I hear in the darkness. How’s life over there? The voice asked.

It’s horrible. I can’t find my parents. I can’t find any of my friends. Food is getting scarce since no one can really work well. And I have no idea where I live. I’m sleeping under a bridge right now!

Oh how pitiful. But, you know, I know that you are lying to me. How? I can hear it in your voice. Yes. That’s right.

I hate my own voice.

By the way. Have we met before?

I don’t know? How could I know? I can’t see you. It’s pitch black right now. I hear him start laughing.

Oh no. How did you survive all this time, Theo? He continues to laugh.

What do you mean? Why are you laughing?

We are not that stupid, now are we? This is a dream, isn’t it. You are conscious within a dream, aren’t we?

Yes, I shout loudly.

Around my neck I feel two hands tightening and squeezing hard. It’s suffocating.

You see... You can feel everything, it’s like magic, he says whilst squeezing even harder on my neck. Yes, and you get to make those horrible noises and suffer at your own stupid hands.

I try to scratch my way out of his hands as I start to flail trying to kick him. But, he starts to punch me in my sides, in my stomach, in my ribs, over and over again with his hands still around my neck.

Don’t worry. I won’t kill you. I’m just curious. He says while he keeps punching me. I have to wonder, dear Theo. How did you get to have such a nice life, he says as he drops me. So, why don’t you stop lying to me and get to the truth. There’s no way you were lucky enough for 26 years. There’s no way you didn’t run into some atrocious monster in this vast pool of infinite infinities and have not lost to at least one of them. So, what’s your secret? What do you bargain with? How did you beat the rest? I ask, because I don’t know about you… But, I use this time more for unloading all my anger issues at myself and at this cursed world we live in. It simply keeps me happy and motivated while awake. You can call this some form of therapy. Why? Because like you, I barely got to know my parents. Who knows how lost they are and in which hellhole they are. So sometimes, like now, I meet someone interesting. Which means, I got to know how you survived and why are you so calm about this?

Because there’s nothing I can do about it, can I? I can’t help but fall asleep. I can’t help but be dragged into these nightmares. And there is nothing I can do about it. So, if I’m lose and am beaten or even killed. Who cares? All the friends I make change, disappear and die. I don’t have a family. And even if I did, I wouldn’t know where to even find them. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, I don’t know shit about fuck all. So, I try to live wherever.

Well, that’s boring. You’d think someone that grasps the general pieces of this would understand the concept behind it all. Guess I was wrong. Now, I have to wonder if you are even worth left living, he says as he cracks his knuckles. So, I’m going to do you a favor. And trust me when I say this, it is going to be a favor to kill you. I’ve seen nightmares which you can’t even comprehend. I’ve heard stories which haunt me to this days. So, if you think your place in this universe doesn’t matter. If you take whatever life you have for granted. If you reduce yourself to something less than a roach. It is going to be my pleasure to reduce you to atoms. That way, at least, you’ll have a purpose again. You’ll literally matter, he says as I hear him walk towards me.

Wait! I shout at him. You said you wanted to know how I survived all these 26 years, right?

Yes, he says as he stops.

Kill me, try to take my place. Do anything to pull me out of the place I am in right now. And you will die.

He starts laughing.

What do you think I am? Fucking stupid? That’s clearly a bluff, he says whilst getting even closer.

No. No, I am not. There is a timer and an alarm. If I don’t wake up within 8 hours and 15 minutes after I have fallen asleep, a stake will pierce my heart. If you’ll take my place, you will die. Why? Because there is a fine way to getting out of the bed without setting off the contraption. Tempt me, and I will take you down with me. I might not be as strong as you. But, what I do have, is no fear of dying. You wanted to know how I survived. This is how. Like a coward, even if I have to kill myself over twice.

You fucker… Fine… But, don’t think you’re out of the woods yet. You might’ve survived tonight, but, you never know what’s waiting for you next time you’ll fall asleep…

If you liked this short story and want more of it, like, share, comment and re-read it. That way, you can make sure to cast your vote for it to become the short story series for 2022. This is the last of the eight yearly short story pilots, which means, one of the eight will become the short story for 2022. And you choose which. And if you want to keep the short stories free, you can always donate at https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

Prokaryote: Scum Sold Out For Money - The Pilot Program 2021

Yesterday, I wanted to kill myself. Today they’re trying to kill me. And for some reason… I ran.

- Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Where even am I?

- I swear, if I catch him I’ll stretch his innards like bubblegum, says one of the men.

- What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you say something like that? Asks another one as his puts his hands on his hips.

What’s wrong with these guys?

- You have to be more menacing than that… I’ll split open his fucking head… Something like that.

- Like it matters. He’s vermin. Worthless. He doesn’t deserve such quality threats. So, if I want to say that I’ll chew him up and spit him out like the trash and tasteless chewing gum that he is, that’s what I’ll do.

Worthless? Why would he say that?

- Fine. Let’s just kill the useless piece of shit before the boss finds out he escaped.

What? Useless?

- Come out! They scream as they point their guns upwards and shoot a few rounds into the air.

I look around me trying to find some way out. Surrounded by wooden boxes, small carton boxes, large carton boxes, a few weird metal boxes and as I look up, I realize I’m in a giant metal box. A weird warehouse that is cold, sterile yet feels damp at the same time and on one of the walls has a big green sheet on it. A few bright lamps hang off the ceiling and illuminate the place as the men keep looking for me. My eyes try to wonder and find a way out. A way past the men and into freedom.

- Yo! Aren’t you guys done yet? What are you doing diddling around like that?

- We’re searching for the fucker.

- Searching? You let him escape?

- It’s not me. It’s Jack.

- Don’t use my name, you moron!

- Oh, I’m am sorry JACK… ASS… For you letting him go. You should’ve tied him up.

- But, he was unconscious and we had to unload the van. You asked me to, DICK!

Where did the third guy come from? Is there a door around them? Or do the doors blend into this warehouse? Why though? What do I remember? Two of them took me here, put me down and went out to the car. I woke up and instinctively ran and hid. But, I can’t for the love of me remember how I got here in the first place. I’d reach into my pockets to find something, but I’m afraid to make any noise.

- You guys sure he didn’t leave this place?

- Yeah, we sure, man. We were at that door, unloading the damn van. We would’ve seen him or heart him, at least, says Richard.

- But, you two know that this place has at least two more exists, right? Richard and Jack look dumbfounded at the third man. One’s there, in that corner. And one’s that big thing. How do you think they move these big and expensive things in and out of here?

Right. But that means we’re in an industrial park. Somewhere with many warehouses, probably. I can’t run faster than bullets, so trying to make a dash for it is irresponsible, probably. Wait… What am I saying? I was ready to shoot myself in the head yesterday.

- What’s this guy’s deal?

- Well, from what I’ve heard he’s scum. Pushed all his friends and family away. Everyone at his job despises him to the point that everyone only talks through emails with him. He hasn’t had a girlfriend in over ten years and spends all his time at home after work, doing jack all. And apparently his best friend sold him out to our boss, says Richard.

- Damn… Imagine your best friend selling you out like that. Must hurt, man.

I remember now. I was out with that fucking traitor, Alex. He sold me to the fucking mob? What the fuck?

- I wonder what the fuck must be wrong with guys like that to get here. How fucking bad must you be as a person for someone to fucking sell you like you’re just a bag with organs.

Fuckers. How dare you talk about me like you know me. Like you know what I’ve been through. The things I’ve suffered through.

- No wonder he wanted to kill himself, damn, says Jack.

I’ll show you motherfu… I push a stack of boxes towards them and start running towards one of the exists!

- There he is!

- Shoot him! Screams Richard.

I’ll show that fucker! I’ll show them all! You can’t fuck like that with DRAKE like that!

- Catch him! Screams Jack.

I’ve never felt more ALIVE!

If you liked this short story and want more of it, like, share, comment and re-read it. That way, you can make sure to cast your vote for it to become the short story series for 2022. And if you want to keep the short stories free, you can always donate at https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

Soulless Society - The Pilot Program 2021

In this world, we are born without a soul. For centuries they tried to artificially create souls and imbue them into people. Baptizing doesn’t work, prayer doesn’t work, science doesn’t work. Those with souls are said to become something more, as they are special. Which is why no one knows of their existence anymore. Sometime after the second world war, those that were special slowly disappeared from the public eye. Conspiracists still think they’re hidden somewhere inside the Pentagon, controlling the world. Yet, from what I understand, they were supposed to find themselves free after the war. Yet, with the Cold War they found themselves used again. Finding themselves in this situation, they fled. One by one escaped and were deemed the enemy of the public by both, the Soviets and the US. I don’t even understand how this whole thing works, in all honesty. From records it is said that some got a soul when they were born, some when they were teenagers and some only later in life. And that the one thing they all had in common was that they were exceptional people. Yet, we drove them all away into obscurity. We only discover them after their deaths. And only then we celebrate them.

Have you heard? I turn around to see a colleague looking at me with a big grin. He leans down to whisper. Your best friend might actually be special. I push him off and get up quickly looking for Adam. Yeah, he’s not here today, Dean. Supposedly he was almost hired as chairman and you know what that means, when one of us takes such a big leap forwards. I pick up my phone and get out to the stairs. I’m just telling you the truth, you don’t have to be such an asshole about it. I quickly call him. Straight to the voicemail. Damn. What is even happening? People usually exaggerate this stuff. So many were falsely accused of being soulful and had their lives ruined. Only to what then? Do nothing. They can’t even determine who has a soul or who doesn’t. They keep promoting less than stellar people to lead us because if he is capable, he might just have a soul and we don’t want that. These unremarkable, hateful, envious pieces of shit, I start kicking the wall in frustration. I need to go find Adam, I think to myself as I quickly make my way back to my desk to get my things. Where are you going? They’re looking for you, says the same colleague. In a panic, I pickup my things and run out.

Fuck this wicked world. Fuck these people. Fuck not putting any effort or being any good at something or you just might get lynched. These thoughts keep repeating in my head as I drive towards Adam’s place. I hope that moron was wrong and Adam is just out with a cold or something. Who was looking for me? Why would they want to have anything to do with me? I’m just a glorified secretary. Just as I arrive at Adam’s place I see police and a crowd gathered at his door. As I make my way towards the entrance to his apartment I hear people whisper that he is special and that they never knew they were so close to someone so dangerous. They bring Adam out and I can’t help but reach out. Is it true? Adam! He raises his head and turns around. Dean, no! I don’t know what’s happening. I haven’t done anything, I swear! Before I can say another word, I am hit over the head and fall down. I wake up later to a foul stench. Good, you are up. We have some questions about your friend. And, if you are good enough, you just might get to live and tell the tale of what happens with those that protect the soulful…

If you liked this short story and want more of it, like, share, comment and re-read it. That way, you can make sure to cast your vote for it to become the short story series for 2022. And if you want to keep the short stories free, you can always donate at https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

Hafhorn - A Forger Elf

Wake up, boy! It’s 4 AM, time for work. My head thumping with a headache as he keeps shouting. I shouldn’t have stayed up and read all night about tales of magic and miracles. And then you wonder why I’d want to leave this hell. He starts laughing. This is heaven, my boy. You wake up erry mornin’ to work and that’s how it always been for us elves. Be it dark, blood, fairy or human elf, we all work wherever we are. That’s how they respect us. We are immortal beings that can do more than anyone. Unlike dwarves that sit on the top of their mountains smoking pipe and making laws, we have to do what is needed for this world to be the way it is. I sigh as his morning routine as he likes to remind me of our ways for forever. All I hear is that you don’t know better, which makes this hell. As I put my pants on he comes grabs me by the silk shirt and pull me to his eye level. We live forever. We’re old as the dirt we step on. We know everything that ever was and we make everything that will ever be. It is a privilege no one else has. Not the goblins, not the sapiens, or any other race on this face or under it that can do what we do. He gently lets me back down. Be grateful. You could be dying fighting stupid wars or dying of old age and achieving nothing. You’re the smartest elf I met, and I can’t believe you’re also my son. So quit your yappin’ and let’s get working. We got a big one today…

Manorn, Hafhorn, y’all are late. Why do they all love screaming so much? The goblin nobility sent us a letter with a request, he says as hands it to me. Hafhorn, read it. What do they want? I sigh as my eyes gloss over the paper. They want us to make for them farming equipment. 100 plows and 100 cultivators, whatever that means. If we want the job, we need to send back word with however much gold we want for the job. They say here that if we accept, they’ll send half the gold we ask for with some nomad sapiens. Father starts laughing as he yanks the letter from my hands. Botin, what do you think? Two hundred complex machines for the goblin royalty and their settlement. How much work and gold we gonna need for this? Botin scratches his head. We’ll have to check whatever iron ore, coal and rest of the stuff we have. We might need to order some from one of the fairies and their mines. So, I’ll go check on that. Hafhorn, better be prepared to write that letter back, he says as he leaves laughing. I hate you for giving me this name. Father starts laughing. Why couldn’t you give me another name? Like Walkorn, Writhorn, Workorn, why Hafhorn? He continues to laugh. Because you’re no a Fulhorn like your grandpa used to be, and you’re not manly enough to be like your father. You’re Hafhorn, your own wonderful being. Now let’s go… We have work to do. The forges don’t light themselves up on their own.

There’s only a handful of us, fully literate elves and they call us engineers. Which means that the rest are what the dwarves call functionally illiterate. And that makes me wish I was somewhere else doing something else. Whether it would be learning magic of any kind, philosophy with the dwarves on top a mountain or roaming the earth with the sapiens, living as a nomadic species. It all feels so wasteful when you are immortal to do the same thing over and over again without an end in sight. Just as that thought flies through my brain one of the forges explodes. The screams of terrified elves echo through the forests as I rush through the trees from one for to the one that went up in flames. Under molten steel, burnt elves now died after millennia of living. Were lucky enough to escape the steel only to be cut in twain by pieces of metal flung from the furnace. They let the pressure build up too much and I had warned them about this. Botin, what happened? He looks at me. Hafhorn, you are here? Then that means your father… I look across the facility, on a wall pinned by a piece of metal through his head. Father! Botin holds me back. There’s nothing you can do! You can’t bring him back. There’s no potion that heals anything like that. I push him off. No! But there’s magic! Necromancy. I’mma learn it and I’mma bring him and those you can salvage back to life! So, don’t burry ‘em! I hate being right…

If you liked this short story, don’t forget to like, share and comment on it, as this story is part of The Pilot Program that is how you choose what will become the short story series for the year of 2022. And, if you’d like to help keep the short stories free, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO