[dedicated to my friend ethan's hatred of oil-burning cars.]

“God, I hate rotary engines,” Rally bemoans, waving a hand through the air as he lists against the balcony rail. He feels something snap under the heel of his gear, and he tries to look down, but then he gets really dizzy and it kind of makes him want to throw up. So, instead, he continues, “It’s a Dorito spinning in a tin can, dude. A _tricycle_ has more torque than a car with a rotary engine.”

“Uh huh,” Dallas says, turning his head to stare at Rally. He has zero clue what the hell his driver’s talking about. “Why are you complaining again?” He asks, looking between his friend’s clearly drunk face and the Jägr he’s currently got in a death grip. “What did Mazda ever do to you?” 

“Th- hnph. The Mazda driver who won three times ahead of us. I hate him,” Rally whines. “He’s annoying and stupid and if he won that many times it means my driving was bad that many times. It’s a Miata! It’s got its own dirt-track subgenre for a reason,” He mutters, tossing his head back. The stars look really weird right now, woah. 

Dallas snorts, because Rally had said that out loud. “That’s ‘cause you’re drunk off your ass, stupid,” He says, plucking the bottle out of his hands. “Wouldn’t want to piss yourself in your racing suit, would you?”

Rally quirks an eyebrow. “You call it a _racing suit?”_

__

“What else would I call it?”

Someone else pipes up from behind them, a tiny “Excuse me?” but neither the navigator nor driver hears him.

“A freakin’ fire suit, idiot. They’re called fire suits.”

“Just because they’re fireproof doesn’t mean they should be called fire suits-”

“Well, nobody calls it a racing suit-”

“I call it a racing suit if that’s any help,” the voice says again. Both Rally and Dallas jolt, snapping their heads around to see, of all people, Tyler Voraček. The Mazda driver.

Dallas regains composure far quicker than his friend, so he says, “Rally was talking shit about you,” and just. Walks away. Back into the building.

“Uh,” Rally blurts. “No I wasn’t. I mean. Yeah. I was? But-”

Voraček gives him this sheepish half-smile and waves him off. “It’s ok. You are, uh, standing on my phone, though.”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry, god, do you want me to pay for a new one?” Rally asks, as he takes a wobbly step to his right and Voraček squats down to pick up the mangled black rectangle. “I’m sorry, man.”

But Voraček just looks up at him, smiles for real, and says, “I have others.”

-

“Well damn, Dallas, you’ve managed to make me rethink my thoughts,” Rally says, halfway to a yell, once they’re back in their hotel room.

“Not like you’ve ever had any,” Dallas mutters, then adds, “That’s good. What did you-”

Rally snorts. “I hate him even more.”

Nathan Everett was a man of conviction. He prided himself on his logical mind, his ability to separate fact from fiction. A financial analyst by trade, Nathan had spent years making decisions based on hard data, leaving little room for doubt or ambiguity. So, when his younger brother Mark mentioned something strange about their father’s death, Nathan dismissed it without a second thought.

Their father, Robert Everett, had died a year earlier from what the doctors had called a heart attack. Nathan had accepted it as tragic but straightforward—a common cause of death for a man in his late sixties with a stressful job and a history of high blood pressure. But Mark couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

"You know Dad was in perfect health just a month before he died," Mark had said one night over drinks, his eyes darting nervously around the bar. "He had that check-up, and the doctor said he was fine. Doesn't it seem weird to you that he'd just drop dead like that?"

Nathan had sighed, brushing off his brother’s concerns. "People have heart attacks all the time, Mark. There’s no grand conspiracy. It was just his time."

But as Mark continued to push, Nathan found himself feeling an uncomfortable twinge of doubt. It wasn’t like Mark to fixate on something like this—he was usually the laid-back one, content to let life’s mysteries remain unsolved. Yet now, he was certain that something had happened to their father, something that went beyond a mere heart attack.

Weeks passed, and Nathan’s irritation with Mark’s obsession grew. But so did a gnawing curiosity. He began to think about their father’s last few months—how Robert had seemed unusually stressed, mentioning something about his job that he couldn’t talk about, how he had started locking his office door at home, something he had never done before. Small details that Nathan had dismissed as unimportant now loomed large in his mind.

One evening, after another tense conversation with Mark, Nathan decided to do something he never thought he would—he began investigating. He started by going through their father’s office at home, looking for anything that might explain his behavior in those final weeks. He found nothing unusual, just the normal clutter of a man who had worked in corporate finance for most of his life.

But then, in a drawer beneath a pile of old documents, Nathan found something odd—a small, black notebook. Inside were cryptic notes, strange symbols, and dates that seemed to correspond to times when their father had been particularly on edge. There were references to meetings with people Nathan didn’t recognize, and what appeared to be a series of transactions that didn’t add up.

The further Nathan dug, the more he uncovered a web of strange connections. He discovered that some of his father’s clients were tied to shadowy corporations, companies that seemed to exist on paper but had no real presence. There were mentions of offshore accounts, shell companies, and code words he didn’t understand. It became clear that Robert had been involved in something far beyond his usual work in finance—something that had made him paranoid and, possibly, a target.

As Nathan delved deeper, he began to feel the walls closing in. He noticed unmarked cars parked outside his apartment, strange clicks on his phone line, and people following him when he walked down the street. What had started as a search for the truth about his father’s death was quickly turning into a nightmare.

He confided in Mark, who was alarmed but also vindicated. "I knew it," Mark said, his voice shaking with both fear and excitement. "I knew there was something going on. What do we do now?"

Nathan didn’t have an answer. For the first time in his life, he was unsure of what to do, unsure of what was real and what was imagined. The more he uncovered, the more it seemed like he was being pulled into a vast conspiracy, something much bigger than his father, something dangerous.

One night, Nathan received a package in the mail with no return address. Inside was a single flash drive. He hesitated, staring at it for a long time before finally plugging it into his laptop. The files on the drive contained financial records, emails, and documents that pointed to something far more sinister than he had imagined—evidence of a covert operation involving not just corporations, but government agencies and powerful individuals who operated in the shadows. There were names he recognized from the news, people in high places who shouldn’t have been connected to his father at all.

The last file was a video. In it, Nathan’s father appeared, looking haggard and frightened. "If you’re watching this, it means I couldn’t stop them," Robert said, his voice trembling. "I tried to get out, but they’re everywhere. I’m sorry, Nathan. I’m sorry, Mark. Stay away from this. Please, stay away."

The screen went black, and Nathan felt a cold sweat break out across his skin. He wanted to stop, to listen to his father’s warning, but he knew it was too late. He was already in too deep.

From that moment on, Nathan’s life became a game of survival. He and Mark were drawn into a world they didn’t understand, pursued by forces they couldn’t see. What had started as a simple search for the truth had spiraled into a dangerous conspiracy, one that threatened not just their lives, but everything they believed to be true.

In the end, Nathan wasn’t sure of anything anymore—not of what had happened to his father, not of who was friend or foe, not even of

[𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙏]

𝚃𝚆 ~ 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢

Imagine if you lived in a world where every hundred years there’s a major pandemic. Every hundred years there is a point in time where you are scared to leave your house and go outside. Every hundred years you are taught to live in fear until you forget about it. Or until one day everyone just magically moves on, or you are told not to worry.

Could you imagine living in a world where people try and convince others that it is a normal thing to be strongly depressed or to be crippled by anxiety or other mental health issues? That it is common in certain age groups so you’ll be just fine. People ignore the warning signs and play it down.

Living in this place for so long the only way you know how to deal and/or cope with problems and bad things happening around you is to find ways to forget. Pay attention to other things, and lose yourself to those things so you are no longer aware of your true surroundings.

Now imagine if you live in a place where society is meant to respect all religions, only to have people subtly attack it. Like a non-Muslim wearing a hijab or a non-Christian wearing a cross or hanging a cross upside down.

What if you live in a society where it is considered that it is horrible to be racist yet each race attacks the other claiming the other to be racist?

When put this way it almost sounds nonexistent this weird world, you imagined, built up by certain observations and facts…

What a peculiar world we live in. Almost doesn’t sound real.

[NOT THE PROMPT]

“Checkmate.”

I say to my opponent, the returning answer a look of pure disbelief.

He squints at me, then at the chessboard.

In a rushed movement, the losing player stands and throws the board to the ground, the pieces scattering around. He walks away, fuming.

I drop down and begin gathering the pieces.

“Holland, you mind helping?” I suggest firmly, looking back to the guard with a scowl.

“Your Highness, my job is to protect you, not pick up little chess pieces,” he responds, “plus, I’ve never seen you actually help anyone.”

I nod my head in forced agreement, standing up and taking care of the game.

“You know I can protect myself, right?”

“Oh, yes, you can. But, as far as I recall, you asked for help picking up chess pieces,” Holland assures.

“Weren’t you supposed to deliver a message? You rudely interrupted the game,” I remark, glaring my trademark daggers at him.

“Ah, yes,” he announces, “you have been requested, along with your brother, to meet at the library for a discussion about ruling.”

/ Finally! A discussion worth discussing. /

“What about Jasper? He’s not even awake at the moment,” I retort, disgust laced heavily in my voice.

“The news will be delivered to him as well. Don’t rely on his presence to go to the meeting, Your Highness.”

I scoff.

“Mother and Father won’t do a thing if Jasper isn’t present. He won’t wake up for another few hours. It’s still six A.M, Holland.”

“You know you can call me Marcus, right? It is my name.”

“I know. Holland just sounds cooler,” I insist to the guard, smirking as I touch his shoulder and push him away.

“Ouch,” Marcus complains before continuing, “anyways, maybe if you were to go early, your parents would simply choose you.”

My smirk fades to a grimace.

“He’s the ‘prince’ of Forestye, Marcus. He always came first.”

The memory of Jasper and I at the beach nine years ago floods my brain.

_Water flooded my ears and nose, and my eyes squeezed shut. I inhaled the clear liquid before I could do anything about it. _ __ _The wave pulled me up long enough to shout. “Jasper!” _ __ _Nothing… _

I clench my fists and close my eyes.

Marcus stands at my side.

“Caroline, are you okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I’m just… remembering the beach,” I respond, my voice strained.

He gives me a small smile.

“I know, Your Highness, I’m sorry.”

I return his smile and shake my head.

“Let’s go to the range,” I exclaim, “I have a new trick to show you.”

Both smiles grow bigger.

“This is why I became a guard.”

“No, actually you became a guard because you needed something to do. Speaking of, how did you manage to become head guard at 18?”

We laugh.

“I was a guard for six months before they promoted me a three months ago. I have no clue, still.”

We walk off into the sunrise, talking and laughing.

“You’re going to be Queen when you’re 18 in four months,” Holland points out.

This is why he’s not only my guard but my best friend.

My eyes opened as I mentally checked my condition. __ There’s no longer any water in my lungs or my nose or my ears. How? Jasper didn’t save me…? __ My eyes adjusted to the sunlight, a sense of unease washing over me. Am I dead? Disoriented, I sat up, blinking several times. Finally, I manage to make out one of our knights’ son crouched in front of me. It’s Holland. Marcus Holland. The nine-year-old. He saved my life when Jasper couldn’t. __ __ __ -/-

This one is formatted different because I copied it from Notes because I use the app on my phone

This is the prologue for Trials of Twins!

In The womb, there were a set of twins, a boy and a girl. They rested happy there, but soon it was almost time to be born. Brother turns to look at sister. “Hey sister, are you scared?” She looks at him confused. “Scared of what brother?” “Birth, y’know, being born?” His sister looks at him again and chuckles “Why would I be scared of birth? Noting bad is going to happen.” “Well that’s kinda the thing I’m worried about sister, I’ve never doubted for a second that there is life. But now that I’m so close to it. I just- I don’t know! What if it just goes black! What if there is no life after birth?” Sisters mouth went from a humours smile it a blank line. She thinks for a second before turning back to Brother. “Well, we won’t know will we? Birth is apart of our existence, who knows! Maybe it will go black, but what if there is life after birth and we can see mother.” “But what if mother and father aren’t real?” “But what id they are? We can’t spend the rest of our time here wondering what happens next. We just need to hope for the best.” Brother thinks for a moment then nods “You’re right.” It’s almost time. “Are you still scared of birth?” Sisters says with a smile “A little bit, but I’m ready for whatever happens.”

Warning: This may not fully fit the prompt. It is an excerpt from a short story of mine. It is really dark-themed.

YESTERDAY:

“Do you trust me?”

I was suddenly immobilized. No matter how smart a person is, there is still a question that ranks number one in difficulty. I held my breath, trying to figure out my words.

“Yes. I do trust you, Tanner.”

His breath came out heavy.

“Are you sure?”

———————————————

Tanner looked me dead in the eyes, my reflection glinting off his eyes as he backed up towards the Apocalyptics and pulled out a gun. His eyes staggered over to Haven. I was suddenly hyper-aware of the distance between Haven and me. I heard a pop, and I reassured myself I wasn’t dead. The bullet didn’t shatter off my porcelain skin, but of the skin of the woman I called my best friend.

I should have said no.

Romingo follows Corin down the streets of Windsor Central they pass the main entertainment, and the streets where crowded with tons of people. as they were walking Romingo sensed someone was tailing them an unsettling feeling rested on Romingo's shoulders he tried not to make it obvious but spoke to Corin slyly "Sir, someone is following us."

Corin gripped his staff tighter they continued to walk as if nothing happened "I noticed, they have been following since we passed the shops, No sudden moves,"

Romingo slid his hand to his blade staying close to Corin. he felt his chest constricted, his nose smelled something foul a small grow settled in his throat. "Sir, I think I think it's a vampire."

Corin thought of vampires he'd read about in King Stepane's restricted library section. they weren't like the sexy vampires most people think of. they were savage beasts and if that was the case all these people would be in danger. "Romingo, are you sure?."

Romingo glanced back causally and saw a figure moving inhumanly quickly to the right behind a bookstore wall every ten paces he slinked closer. Romingo responded to Corin "I'm sure Sir, there's one twenty paces behind us."

Corin crossed the busy street onto the other side. starting to walk in the opposite direction “We need to get away from all these people, Romingo can you—.”

Corin was cut off by a person running with a dagger he rammed into corin slamming them both onto the cobblestone street. Romingo pulled out his sword he bolted into the person they went tumbling a little ways The person kicked Romingo in the groin and then hooked his fist into Romingos jaw he fell off the person Romingo gasped in pain and then went to swipe his sword when another person jumped on his back kicking him in the shins he toppled on top of them. By now corin was up, and people were fleeing the streets. Romingo broke the man's grip around his neck and threw him off The vampire that was tailing them Ran at an inhuman speed toward Corin the vampire tackled him they both hit the ground. Romingo grabbed the vampire that came in with fangs bared and threw him towards Corin, he hit his vampire companion the rolled down the cobblestone road they were no longer interested in getting revenge they were attacking each other. Romingo ran to Corin “are you alright Sir?!.” He asked

Corin got up from the road brushing the dust off “Other than a few scratches I’m fine. We need to the vampires get out of here.”

The roof was highest in the city, the blinking lights of the helipad that adorned it his only companions and at this time of night all there was silence as all the ground noise died before it could reach him. Pierre sat on the edge of his helipad, feet dangling into the abyss the people living below him not knowing his existence.

He felt above it all, this empire he had built for himself after his parents died, proving that through sheer will and tragedy you could build something, but then came along Clara, how she entered his life, that remained a mystery, but the encounter had changed them both and they had become partners in crime for lack of a better word.

He pulled his coat around him, as a combination of the night chill and a heavy gust of wind discouraged him from dangling his legs over the side. Pierre stood up, turned around to see Clara standing in the roof access doorway, smiling, he padded over, wiping his eyes on his coat sleeve. Clara with arms wide, embraced her husband, wiped his cheeks with her own sleeves, cocked her head and asked;

"Why do you come up here, night after night?"

Pierre pushed away gently, hands on her shoulders searching her eyes and only finding concern as well as empathy. "you come here ever since our son was born", she continued. Pierre tried to begin a sentence but the words got caught in his throat, he sighed and looked again out across the city.

"I feel this world", he swept his arms out encompassing the city, "no longer exists". Clara shook her head, grabbed his wrist. "you know that is a lie". Pierre relaxed his arm in her grasp and she let go. "Your perspective has changed that is all, your priorities also", she smiled deeply, kissed his nose, "do not let what has happened change the love you have, please" .

"Promise?" He mouthed.

"Promise"

...

Love You R

I won’t give in again I’m not dumb enough I won’t let the world hurt me I keep it in its cuffs

I don’t want to open up Thats when people hurt you the most The tell you they care and you’re loved But they’ll stop the act and reveal the foes

I’ll keep my heart locked away You can’t have it in your possession “But I’m nice” I’ve hear that before I think I’m going to dodge this lesson

I’ll push away my friends They lead me on dark paths I don’t want them to teach me wrong I don’t want to change how I act

I’d rather die than let you near You caused my pain and left me alone I wish you best wherever you go You’re a weight that I have to hold

My father God I understand I’ve done my wrongs And butchered your plan

This isn’t who I’m supposed to be But isn’t my pain validated They hurt me lord I didn’t hurt them How am I to be unsaturated

How could I forgive like you I gave them kindness But they let it fall through Why am I such a mess

How do you forgive the people that do you wrong I’m insecure in all areas because of them They laughed, they taunted, they outcasted me How do I forgive the ones that sin

Wait… No… I… They’re just like me If all sin is the same Then they’re just like me

But mine are mistakes God I didn’t know any better I’ve bullied and hurt But I didn’t know any better

They had to know what they were doing Those jokes, those hurtful jokes Wow… I’ve done the same But I didn’t know

I said things I shouldn’t Hurt those who didn’t deserve it Isn’t every bad action a mistake Because we are always learning

I seen what you mean father Everyone sins We don’t know any better but you teach us Thats why you forgive…

Even if we rebel as a choice Its a mistake in reality Because we’re still dumb enough to make the choice Maybe thats why I hear your voice

To let their actions go And move on I’d want them to forgive my mistakes So I was it the wrong

I’ll still stay protective My trust isn’t a toy But I’ll care for your creation Even if I’m annoyed

You’re teaching have shown me there isn’t a point to fighting Love them and forgive Because they’re just like me…

The past is the past Don’t look back Focus straight head No regrets nothing said

But the past informs the future It’s part of the present and culture History defines us Consider it a must