“Thanks again, deary.”

“No problem, ma’am I am always happy to help,” said a young lady, who was helping an old white haired woman put her groceries in her car. “Let me know if you need anyth–”

Her words were halted dead in her mouth as she was knocked to the ground by a wooden beam. Stooping over like a vulture over a corpse, the old lady stared at her gleefully.

“Yes…your skull will make a good cornerstone for my little bitty wall.”

What’s going to happen? Well I don’t like the horror genre mainly because the good guys don’t win most of the time. I am going to change that up this time, however. 


Self-imposed Fall Break

Will he ever stop talking? Wondered a young women who stared blankly at an old grey haired man who obviously was a professor of some sort. The professor seemed not to notice her angry glares pointed in his direction, but continued to instruct in his monotone voice.

I would rather be doing anything else beside this, the young lady sighed as she stared outside to the colorful, vibrant fall trees outside. Suddenly she bolted straight up off her chair and calmly walked over to the professor, who stared at her askance.

“Consider me on Fall break,” she stated as she walked out the door to the outside world.


You may be wondering where my third part of my little story is. Well, I hope to write it soon, but writer’s block is a fickle beast.


What’s Your Name?

Blood poured grotesquely from a wound on a hardened warrior as he fell to the ground. The cloaked man deftly stepped over him and dodged a blow from a double-bladed axe. A bearded warrior who was a good five inches taller than his opponent looked at the shadowy figure in glee.

“I see my job is almost already done!” he spat maliciously as he stared at the cloaked man’s missing arm. While he gloated over his small opponent, the cloaked man kicked him in the stomach, throwing him back a few feet. Snarling in anger, the bearded warrior charged at him as his opponent held his sword to his chest and took a deep breath.

Everything around him slowed as he reminisced about a day but six months ago. It was the kind of morning where even the wolves huddle together in their dens from warmth. To the chagrin of the poor man, however, he could only pull his rags closer together.

While he was rubbing his one hand on his leg to warm himself, a young woman about his age passed by wrapped comfortably in thick furs. Looking at the person who was more rags and bones than human, she stopped and inquired, “You look cold, do you have a place to stay?”

He stared at her with a look of shock, “If I had a place to stay I would be there.”

“I guess that is obvious,” she replied quietly. “I shouldn’t do this, but you can come to my brother’s estate. This is not charity, and I will expect you to help our other servants in their duties. What is your name?”


We both changed so much, Trek thought to himself as he dodged the tip of the axe blade. The warrior charged him ferociously swinging left and right. Trek flawlessly dodged every attack as fast as an arrow. However, he quickly became tired of the dodging game and ran up the side of a nearby wall and sliced the warriors head off.

As he rose, a soldier of the city came to him and yelled breathlessly, “Thank you for the help!” Suddenly he froze and stared at Trek. “You’re the guy who killed that woman who owned the estate!”

The next part will come out soon. What will happen? Who knows. Heck, I don’t even know yet. 




If Not For Her

Smoke curled lazily up from the burning gates of civilization. At least, that is what most citizens of Elesia thought as warriors armored to the teeth stormed thorough the streets to the the center of the city.  Murdering everyone in their path, these barbarians wouldn’t stop until every single person lay murdered at their feet.

One man cloaked in grey stood upon a two-story building. His tattered cloak covered him like fog covers a forest, and his face was worn and scared. A curved, thin sword rested on his hip with rags as its only sheath. Quietly, he watched the slaughter with a grim face.

I shouldn’t help them, he thought bitterly. They have never showed me any kindness. His eyes looked far away as he recalled the years of him begging on the streets for the smallest crumbs to sate the burning hunger clawing at his insides like a lion claws against a prison. He begged but only received harsh looks. After years of being a soldier in their army, and his only thanks was a place to sleep in the muddy alleys. I lose my arm, and then they take away my humanity. The man stares down to where his right arm was that had been cut off so many years ago. I don’t know if I would help these people if it wasn’t for her. 

Shakily he pulled his sword slowly out of its scabbard of rags and jumped from the building to the invaders.


2nd part comes out this Friday. 



Imagining Heaven

I figure before I go into more serious stories, I will make something more cheerful. Additionally, this will be the first post I write in second person.


You take a deep breath as you absorb the warm sunlight that you feel both outside and inside. Taking a deep breath, you smell the most satisfying things on the face of this universe from the ocean to the forest. As you feel everything that ever pained you in the world start to fade away into the abyss, you start to stroll down a path toward a unending ocean in the distance. Suddenly, you find that you can no longer become tired, so you run.

A few minutes later you step into the ocean. Sparkling seductively at you, you dive into the water and swim peacefully to a coral reef. Fish of ever species and color swim around you as you find that you no longer have to go up for air.

When you finally come back to the shore, you stare into the distance and see a city on a hill, shining like a beacon to all. This is where I belong, you think as you start to walk into eternity.


Mario Kart: Way Way Dead

“No, no, no, no!” I often find myself yelling as I play a Mario Kart game. Considering I have never mentioned video games on Aqua’s Flood, this may come as a surprise to many of you. I like video games! In fact, the reason why I haven’t posted that often lately is probably because I was utterly consumed by Zelda: Breath of the Wild, which is now my favorite game of all time. 

What is the point of all these ramblings? I like Mario Kart. Nostalgia consumes me whenever I remember playing Mario Kart as a kid with my neighborhood friends (even though I was too small to ever win). Therefore, I consider myself fairly good at the game after years of practice. However, I realized earlier today that just going through the game once would kill my character off a lot. Drive off a cliff, dead. Get hit by a blue shell, dead (Have you seen the blast radius of that thing? It is like a mini nuclear bomb!). A high speed collusion with an obstacle, dead. Going through the campaign once, I probably would die in real life over ten times!

Get to the point, I hear many of you thinking, so I will acquiesce to your request. If Mario Kart was in real life, it would be a deadly career choice. In fact, it would probably be as illegal as street racing. The deceivingly beautiful Rainbow Road would be deconstructed or blown off the map due to it being the most dangerous race course in racing history! In conclusion, behind the fun filled exterior of this fun loving game, lies a monster which craves for Mario’s blood!

I bet you didn’t expect me to write about this!




A Confectioner’s Calamity

“Alright, here I come!” snarled a young brown haired girl with a determined look on her face. Sugar, flour, salt, butter, and other nefarious ingredients were pulled out of shelves and pantries.

Hopeful, she started reading instructions and mixing ingredients with vigor. However, soon a look of despair crept over her face as she put too much salt and spilled too much vanilla extract in the batter.

After a few heated moments of desperate whisking and mixing,  sh
e put a tray of cookies in the oven and sank to the floor in utter despair.

“There is no way they will be good. I messed up everywhere!”

However, it seemed the fates had different plans, for soon she smelled a most delicious aroma. Jumping up and taking out the cookies, she let them cool before popping one in her mouth. It was delicious. It seemed that even though she didn’t make it perfectly, she made something to be proud of.

Reaching for Hope

“We did it my friends,” Beamed Duke, “We pushed back the soldiers!”

It turned out that the soldiers were horrible fighters, and the fear that used to fight for them disappeared like the wind itself. After Duke started fighting back, other villagers jumped into help until a good thirty villagers were pushing the villagers back through the town. As the soldiers saw that they were outnumbered, they cowardly ran, throwing their weapons on the ground as they did so.

“All we needed to do was stand up against them, and we did my friends, we did. Earlier today we were crushed with no hope, but I have found that hope is just around the corner and you just have to reach.


I am sorry for not getting this out sooner, guys.




“You think you are smart, you little fool?” Sneered a fat and lazy soldier as he pushed Duke into the thick and slimy mud.

Duke bit his lip tightly and resisted the urge to kill the man. If he was only strong enough to take these soldiers and throw them out of their once peaceful town, he would. Miserably, Duke looked up into the stars and thought I need a hero. 

At the same time Duke thought he heard someone whisper, “You are the hero.”

Startled by this phantom, Duke thought about what was just said. He can’t be the hero. Heroes are strong and brave. Stalwart under pressure and determined to see anything to the end.

No, he suddenly thought, heroes are everyday people who take a stand against something that is wrong. I will stand up to this tyranny. 

Asking for strength from the reassuring whisper through the dark, Duke stood and punched the ugly soldier in his ugly face.


The conclusion next week.

Don’t Give In

“We need to just give in,” sighed a thin man with dark hair. “Nobody will come to help us.”

“We can’t give into this tyranny, brother!” Growled Duke back. Duke was a light haired man in his early twenties. “We cannot give in!”

For over three months, soldiers from a rogue battalion had taken over the town where they lived peacefully. Since that day, many people had mysteriously “Disappeared” whenever they spoke out against the harsh taxes and treatment of the townspeople. When the soldiers were asked, they denied any involvement in the disappearances, but the townspeople knew that if they spoke out they would be quickly and ruthlessly dealt with. Therefore, they endured under the tyrannical rule of this rogue battalion.

“We must give in….”

“What did you do?” Screamed Duke’s brother a few days later. “You talked out against them?”

“Know one else was going to,” Returned Duke, “So I did.”

A strong knock on the door interrupted their agruement.

“They have come for you!” Hissed his brother, “And I cannot protect you.”

We need a hero. Thought duke desperately.

Continuation next week.